Two weeks passed since RWBY's promotion to Specialists, and only three days since their promotion to Lance Corporals. Even if their Aura failed to empower them with their usual superhuman abilities, something was enhancing their performance just enough so that they stood out as some of the best recruits XCOM had seen in recent memory. Ruby decided to credit all the martial training the four of them went through during combat school at Signal, Beacon, and wherever Weiss attended back in Atlas. As for Blake… Ruby assumed she had her own brand of combat training where she learned to fight during her time with the White Fang.

The day after their latest op found Strike Eight relaxing in the rec center's lounge with a few other operatives and base techs that were friends of either Vance, Yang, or both. Those old enough (and Yang) were enjoying alcoholic drinks from the commissary, courtesy of the Major. For those who weren't keen on the hard stuff, the commissary had a range of other options as well. Ruby happily munched on a plate of cookies accompanied by a container of milk, Weiss sampled a bowl of blueberry ice cream, and Blake nursed a cup of tea. She developed a taste for Shen's jasmine flavor ever since her meeting with Vahlen.

One of the base personnel, some Irishman named Conor MacAuley, took a swig from his bottle, hiccuped, and then broke the temporary silence that had fallen over the group.

"Y'know, it's about time that you lot got your nicknames, don't you think?"

Ruby looked up from her plate of cookies, curiosity twinkling in her eyes. "Nicknames?"

Conor nodded. "Ayup. All the operatives get one, provided they live long enough to earn it." A cheerful clap of his hands startled the four huntresses as he looked from one to the next. "At this point, I'd say you've all lived long enough to earn it."

Ruby's attention shifted from Conor to Vance, who was sipping his beer with a bemused smile. "Does Major Vance have a nickname?"

"Claymore." Vance responded. "And so long as you nerds don't start suggesting pop references that would go over their heads, I'm fine with you coming up with their nicknames if they're cool with it."

Conor rubbed his hands with excitement, and the other operatives at the table (and the lounge in general) began to put their heads together. "Right, let's start with Miss Ruby over there. What would be a good nickname for our little marksman?"

"Alright, Three, talk to me."

"I'm in position with Four and Six. Two and Seven are on the other side. We're ready to breach."

"Numbers?"

"I can hear six or seven contacts moving around in there."

"Can you confirm that, Seven?"

"I can confirm, Actual."

"Alright Eights, here's the play: Three, Four, and Six will breach first. Three, do your thing and take the fire away from Four and Six while Six flashes the contacts. Two and Seven, wait until the flash is confirmed before following up with your own breach. Four, be ready with your rocket if the situation gets bad. I'm outside with Five, ready to tag any runners. Any questions? … No? Good. First breach begins on my mark."

Ruby readjusted her rifle and let out a slow breath. "Mark."

She braced herself for the muffled bang that usually came with a door breach before reminding herself that alien tech was… different. Vance had to explain to the newbies in Strike Eight that alien ships had "holo doors" that you could either tap to open or simply run through. Running gave you the element of surprise, but meant you were running blind into a dangerous situation. In any case, Ruby was only made aware of her team's actions when she heard Six's professional voice on the comms.

"Flashbang deployed."

"Two and Seven, you're up."

"Roger, moving at the speed of death."

Ruby smiled. Apparently one of Weiss's new Assault buddies told her that cheesy one-liners brought good luck when charging into danger, which was something that Assaults do a lot. Whether Weiss was just humoring her new colleagues or she actually believed it wasn't really important.

"Actual, four Outsiders just powered up inside the command room. It seems like they managed to dodge Three and Seven's spidey senses."

Ruby cursed. Outsiders weren't impossible to handle, but they were certainly dangerous. Impressive accuracy, tough armor, and regenerative capabilities meant that they had to be focused down quickly or there would be casualties. Also, considering that they were literally crystals until powering up for combat, Ruby wasn't surprised Blake had missed them.

"Six, get some Psi Panic going in there. Four, do your thing."

"On it!" Came Yang's cheerful reply.

The back end of the downed craft disintegrated in a spray of twisted metal and fire, leaving Ruby with a rapidly clearing view of the action as the smoke and ashes disappeared.

"Well, that's what I get for not waiting until after I sneeze before firing off a rocket. At least you've got a clear firing lane now."

Ruby heard Vance sigh beside her. "We're going to have a talk on the ride back about common sense, Four. Right now, we need to keep those Outsiders locked down."

Ruby watched the firefight unfolding down below, taking a moment to nail a Muton trying to take cover from the pair of Assaults sweeping through the room. The pair dashed through the large room, a flurry of lasers blasts cutting down any Muton unfortunate enough to get caught up in their storm. The pair certainly pressed the advantage of their initial surprise strike against the aliens. Despite their success, the Outsiders still posed a very real danger to the safety of the team.

"Five's right. Two and Seven, keep the pressure on the Mutons. Six, I want acid on those Outsiders. Three, get some holo targeting up so that the rest of us have a clearer view."

"Copy that, Actual."

Off the comm, she muttered to Vance, "I probably don't need to tell you, but disabling the Outsider weapons would probably be useful."

Her partner chuckled. "You're right, you don't." With a snap-fizz, he shot the Plasma Rifle out of the hands of one of the aliens below.

The two Assaults faced no challenge in fulfilling Ruby's orders. Weiss's training after Run 'n Gun entailed mastery over the intricacies of a Close Combat Specialist, whose potency Seven easily demonstrated to the rest of a squad. The sight of a charging Assault closing to point-blank range tended to scare aliens into retreating for better cover. This provided the Assaults with easy shots to the alien's back as they moved to their next victim.

"Chem Grenade out," warned Six. Ruby turned her attention back to the Outsiders. The one Six panicked was still hunkered down in the corner while the second scrambled to grab its rifle off the floor. The other two, however, took cover behind a reasonably defensive wall. Eight-Six seized this golden opportunity to spray both of them with the caustic acid that exploded out from his second grenade.

"Shred 'em, Four."

While Ruby waited for Yang to prep her rocket and ruin the armored hide of the Outsiders, she took several shots at the Mutons retreating from the whirlwind storm of Weiss and her Assault buddy. Ruby had to admit, Bradford did a good job slating Weiss for Assault work. Her fencing skills played surprisingly well into the mobile, in-your-face style required for her current class. Ruby focused as she spotted a Muton peek out of cover and line up a shot at her friend.

Not fast enough, you dumb alien. Her Pulse Sniper Rifle discharged and seared the alien through its throat. It gurgled as alien blood sprayed from the gaping wound before falling over to the floor, lifeless.

The roar of Yang's launcher firing again (and the rocket hitting its intended target this time) pulled Ruby's attention back to the Outsiders.

"Targets shredded. Let's party."

"Three, pick one and throw down some holo. Everyone else, concentrate fire on Three's target."

Blake stood up from behind her console and took careful aim at one of the aliens with her Marksman Rifle. Her shot struck the Outsider square on the skull, but the hardy alien soaked the wound without flinching. Regardless of whether the hit was damaging or not, Blake's holo targeting mod lit up the Outsider like a Christmas tree.

Ruby didn't need to prompt the rest of her squad to hit the marked target. Blake and Yang peppered the Outsider with laser salvos from their rifles while Ruby and Vance snapped off shots from high above. Even with its multitude of biological advantages, the Outsider didn't stand a chance. Blake tagged the second outsider, and that one went down even faster with the assistance of the supporting Assault team.

Nobody seemed to notice the panicked Outsider had finally recovered enough to pull out a grenade. Nobody, that is, except for Ruby.

Time slowed down as she watched the grenade begin its arc through the air towards the pair of Assaults. Despite the overall success of their sweeping advance, the two had definitely suffered their fair share of hits from enemy plasma. Ruby knew a grenade going off at their feet would be bad. Very bad.

Without so much as a thought, Ruby snapped her rifle into position, took aim for a fraction of a second, and fired. Everyone looked up in surprise as the grenade exploded in a shower of plasma mid-air.

"Christ, Actual, how the fuck did you do that?"

One of Conor's friends grunted. "I saw the vids after the op. That was some Max Payne-level shit right there."

Ruby blinked. "Max… Payne?"

Vance punched the operative. "No pop references."

Conor snapped his fingers. "I've got it!" He looked around the table, all smiles. "No-Scope!"

A sigh escaped Vance's lips as a palm stretched over his face. "Tell me you're not thinking what I'm entirely certain you're thinking."

The XCOM tech glared at Vance. "Major, if there was ever a real-life feat of sharpshooting that came close to the infamous 360 no-scope, that was fucking it."

Vance stared at Conor for a long time. However, he also was able to hear the other techs and operatives muttering in agreement with Conor's reasoning. "One. You get one pop reference, and that's it. So if you're planning on sticking Lance Corporal Rose with No-Scope, you're done."

Conor held his hands up, as if he was surrendering. "Understood, Major. Loud and clear. Now… who's next?"

The tech rubbed his chin pensively as he peered at the three remaining girls before he finally settled his gaze on Yang. "Alright hotshot, what can we do for you?"

Yang was in trouble, and she knew it. She'd gotten cocky, and it looked like it was time to face the music.

Quite a few factors stacked together to leave Yang in her current predicament, some older than others.

Factor number one: She swapped out her Carapace Armor for Phalanx Armor shortly after she realized that some of XCOM's defensive gear was sleeveless. Prioritizing the chance to show off her "gloriously toned" muscles, she had deemed the loss of extra protection was an acceptable sacrifice.

Factor number two: She swapped out her Pulse Rifle for a submachine gun (or "Pulse Stengun", as Shen's nerds called it). It was lighter, and Yang figured she'd be spending most of her time shooting aliens in the face with her rockets, so having a good rifle wasn't that important. Except, of course, for situations where she's facing off against a whole pod of aliens with only a single rocket in the tube.

Factor number three: She decided to "creatively interpret" Ruby's orders when her sister asked her to "find a good spot to set up". While the roof of a nearby building provided a good vantage point, it also meant that her squadmates on the ground wouldn't be able to support the Rocketeer if trouble found Yang.

Factor number four: She decided to dash off to the building's roof with a salute and an "aye aye" before Ruby had decided upon an operative to accompany her. The fact that nothing had gone wrong during the entire operation seemed to give Yang the idea that nothing would go wrong. It seemed like she had forgotten one of the most important adages at XCOM: "There are only two kinds of missions operatives go on: ones where shit has hit the fan, and ones where shit is about to hit the fan."

And so the mission found Yang in her current predicament of stumbling upon a new fireteam of Mutons getting into position on the roof. There was a brief, almost comical moment where all six fighters on the roof just stared at each other, too shocked by the absurdity of the situation to do anything. It was brief, however, and Yang quickly dove behind an AC vent to avoid the spray of plasma.

"Ow! That hurt, you brutes!" She gingerly touched the burn on her arm where one of the Mutons got lucky with a shot. She winced both from the pain and the sound of her cover getting chewed up faster than she liked. She picked up her Stengun and fired blindly from safety, hoping she'd get lucky and hit one of her assailants.

"Four? We're hearing gunfire down here. What's going on?"

Crap. I'm never gonna hear the end of it from Ruby if I tell her about this.

"Oh, uh… nothing. Just found a-" crash "Sectoid or two. Give me a minute to-" bang "clear them out."

The AC vent splintered, and Yang suddenly found herself without cover. The next closest obstruction was a good twenty paces away.

"Oh, not good." Spraying her Stengun as if her life depended on it (because it did), Yang dashed as fast as she could towards the lip on the roof. For once, she cursed the rocket launcher on her back and the weight it added to her kit.

"Tssss oww! Ow! Holy mother of- QUIT SHOOTING ME." It was almost like her bare arms were magnets for the stupid plasma flying her way. Her Phalanx armor ate a few of the bolts, but fortune seemed to be favoring the Mutons and her beautiful skin soon had more scorch marks than she would have liked (that number was "zero"). Granted, they were all superficial burns, but they still stung like crazy. As one final gift before Yang managed to reach her precious cover, a plasma round cut clean through the side of her armor and lanced her waist.

A single tear of pain escaped Yang's eye, as she took a moment to catch her breath. Those aliens were going to pay for their transgressions, oh yes. Vengeance would be swift, painful, but most of all: fiery.

"Eight-Four, you sure you don't need support?"

Yang managed to respond with a strained, "Yep! No support necessary. I'm, uh… putting the finishing touches on these guys."

She peeked over her cover and cursed. The Mutons had advanced forward while she was catching her breath, and blocked off the ladder she came up as a possible means of escape. Yang's options were dwindling. Of course, she always had her last rocket, but…

She glanced at the ledge behind her, the launcher in her hands, and once more at the Mutons. This idea was going to hurt. It would be awesome, and she'd have a story to brag about back at the rec center, but it was going to hurt. Yang's grip tightened on the alloyed metal and she steeled herself to the crazy plan she was about to go through with.

"Might as well go out with a Yang," she muttered, sad that nobody but herself was there to bear witness to her terrible pun.

"Four…"

"Alright you brutes! You want a light show? Here's your damn light show!"

She dashed out of cover, vaulted off of a small AC unit to gain some height, and twisted herself around to get a good view of the Mutons. Luckily, the small size of their battlefield did not favor Yang's foes . Despite their best efforts to fan out, the Mutons had clumped up enough during their advance to be a nice target for a rocket. She wouldn't even have to spend time lining up the shot to hit all of them. Which was good, because she didn't have time to line up a shot anyway, what with the fact that she was mid-jump and all.

The kickback from the rocket knocked the wind out of Yang's lungs and tossed her like a ragdoll off the side of the roof. She clutched the rocket tube like her life depended on it as she watched a pillar of flame erupt from her shot, and braced for (painful) impact.

The next thing she knew, her eyes fluttered open to see the members of Strike Eight peering down at her, a mixture of questioning and concerned looks on all of their faces. Yang managed a weak smile and a feeble salute to her sister.

"X-rays on the roof have been neutralized, sir."

"The craziest part of all that was you were only in the med bay for five days before Vahlen cleared you for active duty."

Yang shrugged in her usual nonchalant manner and flashed a winning smile.

"What can I say? I work out."

Conor wasn't really listening, too deep in thought trying to come up with another nickname. Vance's eyes narrowed when he saw a sly grin spread across the tech's face.

"Mac…"

Conor clapped his hands in a display of theatrics to get the attention of those seated at the table. "Okay, so hear me out: Xiao Long's got an addiction to explosives…"

"Obviously."

"… and the bigger, the better…"

"Duh."

"Then it's a no-brainer! The obvious choice is BFG!"

"Goddammit Mac, I told-"

"What's a BFG?"

It was now Conor's turn to throw up a nonchalant shrug and smile. "Only a Big Fuckin' Gun that specializes in making Big Fuckin' Explosions."

"Conor, that's not even-"

"Well I'm sold."

Vance's head hit the table. Then he lifted it up about three or four inches and dropped it back down.

Conor, either oblivious to this or simply pretending to be, turned his eyes on Blake, who stared back at him with an unreadable face.

"Lance Corporal Belladonna. You… may be a bit trickier. But fear not! Little Mac is a crafty one. I'll think of something for you yet!"

Blake decided that she hated this EXALT group. While gene modded soldiers were a common sight around XCOM's base, the level of modifications EXALT performed on its operatives unnerved her. Say what you will about Dr. Vahlen (and most of that was just stupid rumors, apparently), but she made safe integration of the gene mods her top priority. EXALT apparently viewed its own soldiers as expendable, so the terrorist organization had no qualms about doing things "quick and dirty."

And it showed.

While the operatives were certainly human, they seemed… wrong. Her friends only noticed the orange glow rippling just underneath their skin, but Blake's senses let her detect more. And "more" meant "rapid deterioration on multiple levels." It almost compared to hunters snorting powdered Dust: sure, it provided impressive immediate effects, but the long-term destruction to the user's constitution was never worth the risk. These soldiers could rapidly regenerate combat wounds, see farther, jump higher, wore hardened skin, and could pack a serious punch, but only in the short term. Frankly, the idea of slowly decomposing on a genetic level creeped out Blake more than she cared to admit.

So now she really regretted her decision to agree to Bradford's request that she fill in for a wounded Scout on Strike Four's Cover Extraction mission. On the bright side, her quiet request to Dr. Shen paid off. While Blake's teammates seemed to accept the fact that "XCOM operatives don't engage in melee", this was not a notion Blake was willing to agree with. She asked the friendly Chief Engineer earlier to slip her something, anything that she could effectively wield as a last resort in melee. Before Strike Four left on the extraction op, Shen pulled Blake aside and discretely handed her a small combat knife.

"It's not much," the aging engineer had told her, "but I had a few of my guys make it out of recycled materials. 'For a fun challenge' I told them. It has a low-powered laser firing mechanism in the handle's core. Since the least resistive path for heat diffusion is through the blade itself, you can activate the laser to give yourself an advantage over the average knife."

Which brought Blake to her current situation of carefully picking her way through a warehouse. Now the squad's scout, Blake snuck around an alternate route with the intent to catch any EXALT operatives bold enough to try an ambush on Strike Four while they picked their way through the back alley. After a careful-yet-efficient sweep, Blake found no operatives waiting to flank the extraction team as it progressed past the warehouse.

She keyed her mic and reported to the squad leader. "Actual, this is Four. Sweep completed, no EXALT contacts. You're clear to -"

Blake cut herself off, narrowing her eyes and tuning her ears to her surroundings. She felt certain that she didn't miss any rooms on her sweep, but she also felt certain that loose concrete didn't just kick itself. Carefully, quietly, she pulled Dr. Shen's blade out from its pocket on her armor and held it at the ready. All her senses shifted to high alert. Evidently, somebody succeeded in out-stealthing her, and he probably didn't want to chat. She backed herself up against a wall, tuning her hearing to pick up every little noise.

There. Again she heard the slight sound of concrete scuffing. It sounded closer than the first, but gone almost as soon as she heard it. Blake narrowed her eyes. Whoever the infiltrator was, he possessed considerable skill in staying quiet. Only her faunus senses allowed her to detect her foe's movements. Any other operative would have been caught completely unaware. As it was, Blake struggled to track the intruder.

She peeked around the corner and toyed with the idea of contacting the rest of Strike Four. Just as she was about to toggle her mic, a figure materialized directly in front of Blake. Her eyes shot wide while her lightning reflexes kicked into motion, throwing her out of the way as the EXALT operative swung a lead pipe down where her face had been a moment before. She tucked herself into a roll, coming up quickly into a fighting stance and pivoting to face her now-revealed assailant.

As she ducked under another swing and brought her knife up to counter, her mind reeled. How did she fail to see him? He just appeared out of thin air. Even with his obvious skills in remaining silent, he literally materialized out of thin air. Silent movement does not render someone invisible, and yet Blake didn't doubt her eyes. The EXALT agent's downward strike flowed into a spinning swipe, which she dodged with a backstep before darting forward and stabbing him in the leg. She continued past the assailant as he reflexively dropped to his wounded knee just to make sure she wasn't in range of a feint.

She reversed her grip on the knife and gently toyed the trigger powering Shen's upgrade, feeling the hum of the power cell as it reacted to her touch. Blake fully squeezed the grip and watched the metallic blade glow red.

Better not touch it by mistake.

The operative staggered to his feet by this point, and Blake could hear his heart pumping loudly when he saw the colored blade and deduced what it meant. He reached back and pulled out a small handgun he tucked under his shirt. Blake cursed when she realized it wasn't a handgun, but a sawed-off shotgun. The close-quarters weapon boomed and several pieces of the buckshot grazed her hip while she spun out of the way. The pain burned, but she didn't have the luxury of surrendering to it now.

Blake dashed at the operative, dropped into a skid, and slashed at her foes legs as she slid past. The EXALT soldier howled in pain, and Blake could smell the pungent scent of burning flesh. It only lasted a moment, and Blake's eyes widened in surprise when she turned around to see the raw tissue bubble and grow in response to the wound she had opened only seconds before. She watched as the dermal layer sealed shut while the flesh beneath continued to writhe as it stitched itself back together.

Damn. If I want to put this guy down, I can't slowly chip away at him. My first blow has to be deadly.

The operative brandished his pipe and advanced on Blake. His advance shifted into a sprint, and Blake watched him raise his weapon in preparation for another downward attack. She waited until the last possible moment before bringing her knife up to her chest and rushing inside the effective reach of the operative's weapon. As she did so, the heated blade easily pierced the operative's body armor and plunged itself deep between his ribs. The soldier screamed even before Blake twisted the knife, yanked it out, and re-buried it into his back. She felted his knee give out when she kicked it from behind before grabbing his head with both hands. With one swift motion, Blake snapped his neck.

The rest of Strike Four came racing into view to see a panting Blake standing over the EXALT soldier's dead body. Despite knowing that her recent melee presented a grisly scene, Blake began to grow uncomfortable as her XCOM squadmates continued to stare at her.

Four-Actual finally found his voice. "Uh… Four?" He slowly brought a hand up and made like he was tousling his hair. "You've, uh… you've got a… um… thing… well, two things, actually…"

Blake froze as she finally caught the squad leader's meaning. Her eyes darted around the hallway and found her precious ribbon laying on the floor. It must have come loose during the surprise melee. She covered her ears with one hand and dashed forward to snatch up the ribbon. Her eyes rapidly shifted from one soldier to the next as she set about re-tying her ribbon into a bow.

"Easy there, Four. You look like you're contemplating murder because we've seen too much." Four-Actual let out a nervous cough before giving Blake a wary look. "You're, uh… you're not contemplating murder because we've seen too much, right?"

Blake stopped half-way through the process of putting up her bow. She stared at the squad leader for a good ten seconds before sighing and pulling her ribbon back down.

"I suppose there's no point in trying to hide it, is there?"

Four-Actual shrugged. "Cat's out of the bag now, I think." He laughed at his own joke. "You want to keep this between us?"

Blake looked up, surprised. She knew extraction ops mandated the absence of standard body cameras: EXALT figured out how to tap into those on an early op, resulting in the mission ending horribly. The squad's willingness to keep her secret shocked Blake.

"You're… not reacting how I would have expected, Actual."

"Kid, I've seen civilians get stabbed to death, rise up and strangle one of my men, and then shit out a Chryssalid minutes later. You learn to roll with the punches in this line of work." Four-Actual rubbed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "Listen, we've got to get to extraction before any more of those EXALT fucks show up. Why don't we talk about this on the ride home?"

Blake nodded before reaching down and yanking her knife out of the dead operative's back. "We should bring this guy back with us. Dr. Vahlen will want to poke around at his insides. Caught me off-guard with some sort of cloaking tech. Might be a gene mod, considering how much they love jamming that stuff into their systems."

Four-Actual nodded and motioned for one of his squadmates to grab the body.

"Alright, kid. Let's get out of here. I know a story when I see one, and we've got a long flight back to HQ."

Blake sighed. Evidently, Vahlen would be getting more than one gene mod out of this op.

"Yeah, not gonna lie, I'm impressed you managed to keep that a secret for so long." Conor laughed, "You'd be surprised how nosy these assholes are when it comes to… well… anything."

Blake kept her gaze down at her tea. After talking with Bradford and Vahlen, she agreed to keep her bow off. They promised the utmost respect out of XCOM's personnel, but Blake expected a far less welcoming reception than the one she received.

"Seriously, Blake," added one of Conor's friends, "You need to spend a week in Japan after we give the aliens their walking papers. You'll be a fucking celebrity over there. Just ask Colonel Zhang!"

"The Colonel is Chinese, dumbshit."

The tech waved off Vance. "Whatever. Now the important thing is… what nickname should we bestow upon the Lance Corporal?"

Conor tapped his chin thoughtfully, though Major Vance couldn't tell if he was actually thinking or simply putting on another show for the rest of their company. It didn't matter, because his eyes lit up with their usual "aha!" expression that Vance had seen twice so far.

"Sabretooth!"

His exclamation was punctuated with a loud sigh from Vance.

"You know what? Fuck it. I don't care anymore. If Blake is okay with it, then it's fine by me."

Blake looked up from her tea, curious about Conor's suggestion. "Why Sabretooth?"

"Glad you asked! Three reasons, Miss Belladonna. Number one: It's a cat. Number two: It's a really fucking terrifying cat that will tear you to shreds if you piss it off. Three: The X-Men are awesome."

Blake blinked in confusing. "X… Men?"

"Ignore him." Vance said through his facepalm. "Honestly, though, I'm actually okay with this one. The sabretooth is a badass feline from Earth's history and, if what I heard from Strike Four is true, your melee skills easily live up to the name."

Blake mulled over Vance's words, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

Conor, satisfied with his handiwork, turned his attention to Weiss. "Oh, yours is easy."

Weiss raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Uh, duh. Ice Queen. Trying to think of anything else would just be wrong."

Weiss threw her hands into the air. "Why is that always the first thing that everyone thinks of?"

"First thing for what?"

The table grew quiet and all heads snapped around to see Dr. Vahlen standing awkwardly in the doorway to the lounge.

"Doctor… Vahlen? Can we help you?"

Weiss sighed when she saw the doctor nervously grip the tablet in her hand. "Doctor… didn't we agree that you would leave your work behind in the lab if you decided to join us in the recreation center?"

With a quiet "oh!" she hid the tablet behind her back. "So… what were you talking about?"

Conor, who recovered enough from the sight of Vahlen to begin formulating words, answered. "We're, uh… upholding the time-honored, ah… tradition of giving nicknames to operatives and coming up with ones for the new guys in Strike Eight."

"Oh, that's… nice." Vahlen turned to Weiss, the only anchor in her sea of uncertainty that was the rec center. "So why did you sound upset?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Because it seems like you're not the only one stuck with a dumb reputation, Doctor. I guess everything about me screams Ice Queen." She jerked a thumb at Conor. "He would be at least the fifth person to entitle me as such."

Ruby leaned over and whispered to Vance, "She is pretty cold."

Vahlen frowned, tapping a finger to her chin. The uncomfortable silence seemed to stretch on for a long time, unnoticed by the doctor, while everyone waited for her to finish whatever train of thought she was on. Much to the table's relief, she eventually looked up again with a smile. "I know! You can take that name and turn it around. You don't like it because it implies you're a mean, cold-hearted person, right?"

Weiss nodded slowly, unsure of where the doctor's logic was headed. Vahlen continued, "Well, you could just use the name of an ice queen who was a really nice, wonderful person!"

All of the non-Remnants quietly sighed once they realized the implication of Vahlen's words. Weiss, completely oblivious, shrugged. "Alright, who?"

Vance thought he'd never see the day that Dr. Vahlen was giddy with excitement, and yet here he was.

"Elsa!"

All of the XCOM operatives let out a collective groan, while the huntresses of Remnant, who never had to suffer through the oversaturation of Frozen in Earth's media, blinked in confusion. Vance, who had been watching Vahlen's expression, saw it fall considerably at the reaction to her suggestion. Evidently, Weiss did too.

"Well I like it. Short, simple, and now I know the story behind it." She smiled at Dr. Vahlen. "Thank you, Doctor. It's a lovely nickname, and I'm sticking with it."

For the first time since he could remember, Vance saw a genuine smile cross Dr. Vahlen's face. He'd have to thank Weiss later for pulling the Chief Scientist out of her reclusive shell. Everyone, even Vahlen, deserved to have at least one friend.

"So, a round of drinks on me?" Vahlen looked around curiously at everyone at the table. "That's how this works, right?"

… And Vahlen would likely earn a few more before the day reached its end.