"This is Austin Brown, sir. Served three tours in Afghanistan, retired at age 40 as a Captain in the Marines. Official psychiatry report determines him 'mentally fit for civilian life with little to no supervision'. Skilled military tactician too."

"That's all well and good, Bones. But does he have… incentive?"

"We checked the hospital records, sir. He will be compliant."

"Hm… He checks out. Put him in our recruitment list."

"…"

"Is there a problem, Bones?"

"We've detected an... anomaly headed towards Waco, sir."

"Simple enough. Go get him, I suppose."

"Yes sir."

"And Bones?"

"Hm?"

"Please bring him back alive, this time."

At around 11 PM, the UFO crashed in the middle of Waco, Texas. Its path pulverized the concrete streets, crushing several sedans and cars. A few minutes later, the purple disc came to rest in front of the local bar. Austin Brown emerged from there, along with several others, as they stared in wonder at the impossible.

"Jesus Christ," murmured Bill Waters, the bartender. "A bo-na-fide U-F-O, right in my own backyard." He wiped his hands on his apron, and turned to Austin. "Is there anything still alive in all that?"

"Doubt it," muttered Austin, although his mind flipped back to the charred bodies and broken buildings left behind in Russia and Australia. He wasn't going to chance with something that had no place on the Earth.

The rest of the crowd shared his sentiment. When one works the night shift, they gain a laid back, no-nonsense attitude that rewards foresight over action. A few of the more adventurous (and unemployed) souls dared to edge closer to the craft. From what Austin could see, the whole thing was mostly intact, although a huge chunk of one of its "doorways" was lying five meters away from it. Fuel, or some equivalent, spilled from the ship in large, flaming arcs, while patches of concrete were set alight.

Minutes passed, and not a single thing stirred within the giant ship. Some of the more drunk and bored persons among the crowd went home, but the rest, like Austin, remained enthralled. Those few that had approached the craft seemed to savor the opportunity of grabbing a few souvenirs from the seemingly deserted wreck, and began to edge closer with renewed bravery.

One of these was Mort Simmons, a drifter working at the nearby warehouse. His ratty jacket and jet-black hair was always a sign of trouble, and nowhere did trouble appear more obviously than now. But now, Mort had hit the big time. Already, he did a thriving drug business, but he had never gotten his hands on alien tech. Some of his fences had bragged about making millions on gutted flight consoles, and alloys – for Mort, this meant that whatever he grabbed now could buy him a nice, early retirement.

He started to walk faster, trying to outpace the other prospective scavengers who were following him towards the UFO. It's gotta be empty Mort thought to himself. You don't just take a nap after crashing at a thousand miles an hour.

"Unless it's a dirt nap," Mort chuckled. Besides, if he came across a "Grey", as the news media put it, he'd probably put it down with his handy switchblade. The things looked half-starved and were the size of children, basically no big threat to anyone with a brain.

"The fuck?" Mort said. He could have sworn that something moved out of the corner of his eye. He looked around, but all he saw was the scarred purple hull and the orange embers of the fire. Yet as he stared, a conglomeration of orange dots and purple seemed to be wobbling in front of him, as if it was alive. But that wasn't possible, was it? Scenery just doesn't move like that, right? As if in answer, the purple and orange background surged towards Mort.

"Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckfuckfu – " Mort started to chant, a litany of curses that was soon cut short as the purple shadow charged at him. It ripped through the muscular flesh of his neck, and sent five elongated claws into his stomach, spilling his insides. Those watching stared in dumb amazement as they saw a man being disemboweled by what appeared to be a giant insect, before fleeing as other orange and purple blobs ran out into the twilight night.

Several people were caught in the devastating "outflow" of the UFO's inhabitants, the chitin-plated insects leaping onto the backs of the runners and tearing into their flesh. At this point, the crowd had dispersed, everyone running for dear life as hell began to erupt around them.

"Cut and run, Brown!" Bill hissed, grabbing Austin's arm. The Texan shook himself back into reality, the horrifying image of the aliens burned into his mind. Then, another horrible thought: the hospital. Those things were free in Waco, and they seemed to delight in the taste of human flesh. He had to get to the hospital.

"Bill!" Austin caught up to the lithe bartender. He breathed hard between each of his words as the flames of the ship receded into the distance. "We need to get to my car!"

"Good idea," Bill said. "We oughta put fifteen miles between us and Waco. You packin' iron tonight?"

"Always," Austin huffed. "But the hospital, Bill! Samantha!"

As soon as the two had gotten a fair distance from the wreck, Bill turned to Austin. "Are you insane? Do you see how fast those things are? Chances are the hospital's overrun with the fuckers by now."

Austin grabbed the bartender by his shirt collar. "We are going back, NOW," Austin growled. "If you're not coming, then you're not getting in my car."

Bill chewed on that for a moment. Then he muttered, "Alright, let's go."

The two continued to run before they made it to Austin's pickup. As Bill opened the passenger seat and clambered in, Austin reached into the pickup's rear and retrieved his hunting rifle. As he checked the firing mechanisms, he noticed that Bill had already found the revolver he kept in his glove compartment. Bill looked back and winked.

A minute later, the two of them were driving down the street, headed for St. Mary's Hospital. While Austin was usually a textbook driver, he ran several red lights and swerved across the lanes. After nearly running across the concrete sidewalk, he slapped his head and set his eyes on the road. Despite this, his mind wandered away from the view, his thoughts swarming around his mind like a school of fish, each single one repeating "Go, go, GO," in an endless cacophony.

Thankfully, and perhaps frighteningly, the streets of Waco were completely deserted. Not of cars, but of people. As the two Texans drove on, they noticed that every car they passed was missing its occupants. Even a sobriety check stop, surrounded by police vehicles and blinking yellow barriers, lacked the familiar sight of officers.

After they passed that scene, Bill turned to his longtime friend and said, "Maybe we ought to turn back, Austin. What if they evacuated the hospital?" Despite the pleading in his voice, it failed to penetrate the school of fish in Austin's mind.

"Hell, maybe one of those f – "
"Bill, kindly shut the hell up," Austin replied in a tone that surprised himself. He and Bill had relied on each other's advice in life, all the way back to the sands of the Middle East. From Austin's brief stint with heroine, to Bill's continual battle with alcoholism, the two men had always sustained one another in words and support.

Until now, thought Austin. Hopefully he wouldn't have to strain his bonds with Bill anymore than he had to.

But as they edged into the hospital parking lot, Austin knew that it would be hard, if not impossible, to get Bill to agree. The fires within several of the abandoned vehicles had already scorched their metal frames to a crisp, while much of the pavement was torn apart into glowing green chunks. Even more ominous, an orderly dressed in a green uniform lay in front of the charred ruins of the entrance. Austin stared closer, and realized that the green color came from the glowing burns on the man's body.

Thoughts flickered through Austin's mind, military facts about biological and radioactive threats bursting from his temples. Whatever had been here was wielding weaponry of extreme lethality and unknown origin.

"Fuck me, they've got guns too?" Bill whispered, breaking the silence in the pickup's cabin. Austin lifted up his own hunting rifle in response.

"Whatever came this way went in the hospital. All the more reason to go in, eh?"

"The hell are you so casual for?! You think this," Bill shouted, waving the revolver in his hand. "This piece of metal here can kill whatever the fuck those things were? Space spiders, I can believe. Space spiders with guns are another fucking thing."

"Fine," Austin replied. "You can stay here while I go in."

Bill paled even more. While the thought of the aliens frightened him, the thought of facing them alone scared him even more.

"Hell no," Bill said. Then, as if to recover his confidence: "If we're going to die, I want to be within arms reach to slap the hell out of you."

Austin cracked a hollow smile. "Deal. Let's go."

Like most hospitals, St. Mary's had a somber atmosphere, wrought from the beeping of life support machines and the constant movement of orderlies and doctors. The lack of activity accentuated the hospital's already negative mood. Equipment was strewn across the floor, and the all too familiar green glow was spattered along the walls. Austin checked the hospital directory, which was intact amid the melted ruins of the wall.

"Floor 4," he said, savoring each word. "Elevators?" he asked Bill. Bill simply shrugged, and pointed at the elevator doors, which were open and revealed the cold, black inside of the elevator chute.

"Stairs then." The two went up. Each step they took was a lonely metal clatter, causing Austin to wince. At this point, anyone (or thing) still alive knew about their presence. Several flights of stairs later, the two managed to reach Floor 4.

Austin made to walk into the hallway, before Bill reached out and dragged him back into the stairwell. Austin gave Bill a look of frustration, but his gaze faltered as he saw Bill point with emphasis outside. To underline his action, a loud roar came from the other end. Austin listened, but there was something odd about it. The roar had a tinny undertone, as if it were coming from a miniature jet engine. He listened further, until the roar dissipated. Satisfied, he moved back into the hallway, making sure to see that Bill was backing him up.

As his head was turned towards Bill, Austin didn't notice the IV pouches lying on the floor. As his foot landed on one of the bags, the pressure caused it to explode, letting loose both a torrent of donated blood and a loud pop. As if on cue, the roaring returned, screeching closer and closer to Austin and Bill's location.

Austin froze, his arms and legs tensed as he waited to fight against whatever abomination was speeding its way toward him. Luckily, this confrontation was avoided when Bill grabbed Austin and dragged him into one of the adjoining rooms, where they waited in in silence. While Austin caught his breath, he looked up and saw Bill squatting next to the doorway, his forehead slick with sweat. He held the revolver in both of his hands, but failed to steady either one. Meanwhile, the roaring continued, moving closer and closer until it stopped just short of the doorway.

Austin watched the hallway become illuminated with a green glow, followed by a hulking shadow. For Austin, it was impossible – the shadow had an upper body, arms and all, but lacked any legs. In his adrenaline-addled brain, Austin thought it looked like his CO, who had his legs blown off during his second tour of duty.

The shadow moved back and forth with an odd, twitching motion, while its long, lanky hands gripped what appeared to be an oversized gun in its hands. The silence was maddening, and Austin felt tempted to yell "Hey, you", just to fill in the void.

Before long, the shadow began to shudder, issuing hoarse, bristling coughs. Then, an arm reached up to its chest, and pulled at something. A sound like fluid draining issued from the hallway, and the creature left down the stairwell, its machine roar fading into the distance.

When it seemed that the oddity was out of earshot, Bill leapt to his feet and whispered, "Now what in hot hell was that?!" He looked into the corridor.

Austin got to his feet, watching Bill kneel onto the tiled floor and press two fingers against it. Bill then lifted his hand towards his face.

"Jesus!" Bill cursed. "Smells like cat piss."

"What do you think it is?," Austin asked.

"Don't know, don't fuckin' care. What I do know is that we need to grab your kid, and get the hell out of here."

"Agreed."

Bill smiled. "Glad to hear that from you, finally," he said. As the two of them proceeded down the hallway, he added "When we get out of here, let's get a drink. Been a long time – and Samantha's old enough, right?"

Austin grinned, and felt warmth grow in his chest. Bill was beginning to act like himself – or at least the version of himself that existed before the UFO.

"I mean," Bill continued. "She's only got a heart condition. I'll give her a shot of whiskey, that's all."

"Bill," Austin replied. "Let's save it for when we actually get my daughter."

Bill waved at him. "Leave it to Cpt. Austin to end the banter and get to business."

As they approached Samantha's room, the warmth in Austin's chest faded. He couldn't see into her room, causing his mind to go on a million wild tangents regarding what they would find. Would she be gone, spirited away like every other occupant of the hospital? Would they find a burnt corpse, or worse, one of those, things, feeding off of it?

These fears were dispelled as Austin looked in the room, only to find his daughter crouching behind her hospital bed.

"Samantha?" Austin called out.

"D-dad?! Is that you?" cried Samantha. Her head rose above the side of the bed. Austin smiled. Even at 19, even in times like this, Samantha was keeping the straight face she had done as a toddler. Her "brave face", she called it.

"Baby girl! Come on, Bill and I are here – we've gotta go, quickly!" Austin urged. Samantha began to get up, but she stopped. Her brave face faltered.

"Dad, is t-that," she started. After swallowing, she continued: "That thing still there?"

Austin ran up and embraced her, his tactical sense replaced by fatherly instincts. "No, no. It's gone now, baby girl, it's gone."

Bill walked in, looking left and right.

"Hate to break up the reunion," he said. "But we oughta get going before the, uh, thing gets back."

Austin and Samantha looked up. "You're right," Austin said. He motioned at his daughter to follow them.

In Austin's mind, he was safe. He had found his daughter, and that monster, the steel, legless dragon, was gone – nowhere to be seen, given the sound it made. The aliens were gone, and freedom and safety lay around the corner. His paternal instinct crowded out his military mind, which kept insisting that he check the hallway, that he listen, listen, for the stealthy, low humming outside the door.

Unfortunately, Austin did not follow on his tactical sense. The group walked out of the room, only to come face to face with the beast.

Happiness curdled into fear as Austin gazed at death's messenger. The thing was uglier than its shadow declared – the flesh that was visible was pink and raw, with purple veins streaking across its skin. The rest of it was a patchwork of metal and wires, electronics stuck in areas that didn't make sense. Two large engines were slapped onto its back, like a child who was trying to imitate a butterfly using scrap metal.

The machine monster howled, a disgusting, phlegm choked sound, and raised its weapon. Austin saw a large, silver barrel and glimpsed a green "mist", for lack of a better word, swirling within. It was like the lazy hand of death, asking Austin to come closer so it could embrace him.

Before the creature could fulfill its grim duty, Bill stepped in. He raised his revolver with a snap of his wrist, and loosed six shots at the alien. At close range, all six hit home. Five bounced off of the metal carapace of the alien, but one struck the center of its face. Yellow pus spattered against the walls of the hospital, while purple brain matter seeped out the gaping hole in the back of its head. Austin watched as the alien, deprived of its nervous system, began to flail about, the body reacting in panic to its inevitable death. It flew about, smashing into walls and letting loose sparks before flying over the heads of the group and crashing to the floor – a miniature version of the UFO that had brought death and destruction to Waco.

Austin and Bill looked at each other in disbelief, while Samantha stared at the wreckage behind them.

"Well, it seems like they can – " Bill started, only to be cut off by several other mechanical roars. Apparently that floating beast had friends.

Bill, always the quick thinker, pointed down the hall. "Go, you get Samantha out of here!" He waved his gun towards the other end of the hall, where the roars were getting closer. "I'll take care of these fuckers. If I'm not here in ten minutes, go. Get the hell out of Waco."

Austin nodded, realizing that there was no other option. He handed Bill his hunting rifle, and shook his hand. Not wanting to prolong the tortured moment, he turned back and began to escort Samantha.

Before he got far, Bill called to him.

"Brother?" he said. Austin looked at him. "I'm going to slap the hell out of you when I get back."

Austin cracked another grin, but this one was hollow. Then, he turned and ran.

As the sound of gunshots echoed from the hospital, Austin and Samantha sprinted towards the pickup. Both of them were crying, both for different reasons. Samantha out of fear, and Austin out of sadness. The pickup lay, silent, before them, an eerie witness to the bizarre and brutal events occurring in front of it.

Just get to the door, Austin thought. The scene played in his head a million times, where he would load himself and Samantha into the car. Bill would walk out, and they'd drive off, fine and dandy. But before either of them could reach the pickup a loud screech called out from behind it, followed by several others. Like cockroaches from the woodwork, the purple and orange blobs from earlier appeared. From such a close view, Austin could now see the spindly legs of these spider creatures, the drool that spilled and clung to their mandibles before falling to the asphalt. As one, the creatures screeched and charged at the two.

For Austin, it turned into a dream. The creatures moved in slow motion, to the point where Austin could see the muscles bulging underneath their chitin armor. The clatter of their legs sounded like the slow, repetitive fire of a machine gun in his head. He listened to it, a perverse, soothing melody sent to calm him before his last moments. He mentally embraced death.

But death did not come. The machine gun chatter came, but Austin did not feel the terrifying claws of the creatures on him. He looked around, and saw the purple spiderlike beings crashing to the ground. The staccato of gunfire was real now, the sound of ballistics weaponry spitting iron into the bodies of the aliens.

Two creatures neared his daughter from behind, but were cut down in short order by the low chugging of a SAW. A lone bullet flew from a nearby building to smash into the mouth of another creature. Before long, the aliens were dead, crushed by the strategic fire.

Two men emerged from the shadows. They carried a military air about themselves, but wore unusual clothing. They certainly weren't US soldiers. However, from their walk to the way they unloaded spent rifle casings, these men were clearly professionals.

"Mr. Brown," one of them said. "You and your daughter are to come with us."

"W-what?"

"Quickly, Mr. Brown. We're here to escort you and other civilians to safety."

The man then pulled out a portable radio and spoke into it. "Compound, this is Bones. We found him. Send the craft over here."

Austin fainted, his body spent from the adrenaline and the unbelievable string of events. However, he could hear the whine of an aircraft as his eyes closed.

XCOM AFTER ACTION REPORT IN: WACO, TEXAS

OPERATION CRYSTAL SERPENT

Personnel on sight:

14 Civilians (9 KIA, one critically wounded)

2 Police Officers (2 KIA)

XCOM Personnel Onsite:

Pvt. Richard Menendez (wounded)

Pvt. Alfred Brunswick (KIA)

Sgt. Julia "Fury" Sanchez

Maj. Salvador "Action" Guzman

Lt. Joseph "Jojo" Smith (critically wounded)

Pvt. Daniel Chen (gravely wounded)

Artifacts Recovered:
8 Weapon Fragments

9 Floater Corpses

12 Chryssalid Corpses

40 Alien Alloys

1 Damaged Flight Computer

1 Damaged UFO Power Source

19 Elerium

Equipment Expended:
1 Set of Carapace Armor

5 HE Grenades

2 Antipersonnel Grenades

1 Battle Scanner

Special Note #1: One civilian, ID'd as Bill Jack Waters, a local bartender in Waco, Texas. Waters was noted as the one critically wounded civilian; but it is not his wounds that are of note, but how he received them. Waters was found in St. Mary's Hospital, critically injured and surrounded by 3 dead "Floaters" (military designation). He apparently expended most of the rounds in his Taurus revolver, which was found to be the weapon that killed all 3 of his assailants. Officially, Waters does have a military background – but this event is unprecedented due to the fact that he downed three extraterrestrials wielding advanced weaponry. Due to the recent losses in XCOM the past months, I personally recommend offering Mr. Waters a place here at XCOM.

Special Note #2: Two civilians were seen escorted away from the Terror Site. However, the men escorting them were not one of our own, despite the fact that some of them were wearing standard issue XCOM armor (check with Engineering for more info). From our imaging of their weapons, and the craft that the two civilians were escorted in, we can only assume that these individuals are part of the unknown rogue organization encountered in Operation Portent.