The return from the warehouse was relaxing in a sense, the steady thrumm of blood rushing through Archer's head was subsiding along with the surge of adrenaline, he noticed his arms and legs slowly steadying from their frantic, jittery pace. The occasional bump on the road rocking his body from side to side in his seat. But not in any way that was abrupt or jostling, on the contrary he'd go so far as to call it soothing. Despite that, he chafed from head to toe, itchy in his gear and aching for the first opportunity to ditch it at Base. When the APC reversed into the door of their seemingly run down Headquarters Archer let out a sigh of contentment.

Exiting from the vehicle, he felt a familiar sense of deja-vu sweep across him. Thinking back to his first day as he watched the other agents exit the APC, their gear singed and beaten. Maybe that was why Torque was polite to him, or as close as she could be. He wasn't just somebody the Agency threw into the squad now. He had experience in the field and proven he was someone she could trust with her life. He knew for a fact he could trust her if her stunt with the MEC was any indication.

Stepping down from where the APC was parked he made for his spot in the armory. Discarding his body armor before sitting down to unfasten the straps connecting his elbow and knee pads to his body. Placing his armor into his locker he sees Torque move within his periphery. Leaning her SMG up against her own locker as she removed her own body armor. Archer keeps his attention focused on his own gear, brushing a few flecks of cement off of his shoulders as he rests his DMR inside the locker.

"You kept it?" He hears her ask. Turning his head with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Kept what?"

"The doll." Torque says, pointing a scaly finger to what was pinned to the inside of Archer's locker door. A stuffed monkey, it's dark brown fur and light brown face stained by some unidentifiable liquid, it's smile and bead eyes stitched in black fabric, staring back at the both of them with an unrelentingly happy grin.

"Oh, the monkey. Yeah I kept it. Thought it'd make you mad if I didn't throw it out or whatever. The thing reeked, though. What did you do to it?" Archer asks.

"Pfft. I found that thing walking through a flea market in Renova Heights. I got it and found a puddle of the filthiest stuff I could, then I just tossed it in, let it soak and stuffed it in your locker." She says with an unrepentant smile in her voice, the recollection giving Archer the impression she'd do it all over again, if given the opportunity. "It smells almost as bad as you." She adds on for emphasis, flicking her tongue out devilishly.

Archer only cocks a brow at her, and her smug, delinquent look softens a bit, she lets out a huff and rolls her eyes. "Ok, not as bad. But pretty close. Eugh, you Humans look so weird when you do that thing."

The practical joke or her incessant jabs at him wasn't exactly what his look was in response to. The duplicity of Torque's behavior from the mission onwards was sending mixed messages, and Archer couldn't determine whether the Viper was open to them being friendly, or maybe if this was her idea of friendly, and it would just be something he had to work with. Not that he was adverse to the idea, his Sister had teased him plenty of times, her constant wisecracks her own personal way of alleviating tension and expressing her own affection. As Torque expresses her dislike of him cocking his brow at her he smirks and shuts his Locker, securing it and lightly rapping against it twice with fist out of habit, making sure it was sealed up.

"Well, weird hair-worms on your face aside, today's been a good day. I'm gonna go catch some hours." Torque says, shutting her locker as well before turning to proceed to the sleeping quarters, Archer had learned very early on it would be a liability to have agents seek their own housing while operating. So soon after the acquisition of the Base a brief remodeling had taken place to provide agents with their own sleeping quarters. Checking his watch Archer had realized it was close to Midnight. And resolved that he ought to get some rest as well, as far as he was concerned, he had earned it.
_

The next day Archer awoke to the harsh beeping of his alarm clock, his limbs trapped in a tangle of bedsheets. Feeling around the end table and stopping when he heard the familiar click that meant he shut it off. After a few more blessed minutes of languishing in his bed he finally finds the strength to yank his head out from his drowsy haze. Throwing first the sheets, and then himself, out of bed before he dresses himself. In the mirror, sure enough, is a purplish mark in the center of his bare chest, touching it he winces a bit, the tender and bruised skin still sensitive. He sighs and gets on with the rest of his day, washing and dressing himself before proceeding to the common room he shared with the rest of the Squad.

The common room was a sort of a three-way mix between a Kitchen, Living Room and Break Room. Replete with a fridge, microwave, stove, a few tables and an appropriate number of chairs, the soft overhead lights occasionally flickering, a ceiling fan in the center of the roof whirrs innocuously. Shuffling over to the counter to a coffee machine plugged into the wall, it's extension cord snaking over a few sealed containers of multi-species sugar. With a yawn Archer rubbed his eyes with a hand as he opened up a cupboard. Rifling through it he pulls out a few bags of coffee ground, flipping over the backs to figure out if he could actually consume them as a human. He had heard stories of people accidentally ingesting the hypercaffeinated strains of coffee beans meant for Mutons and literally having their hearts stop, and he hadn't survived a warehouse full of Hybrid terrorists just to die to his morning cup of coffee. He pulled the human-compatible bag of beans out and closed the cupboard. Loading the machine and leaning against the counter as he waited for the grinding of the machine to stop.

He looks over to the common room and notices Cherub seated at one of the tables, his short sleeved shirt exposing a splotchy, discolored mess of welts and bruises walking their way up his right arm, creeping up his forearm and over his bicep, along with some minor burns which were smeared over hastily with some kind of cream. Nevertheless, he enthusiastically shook some cereal into his bowl, the words "BIG CRUNCH" plastered across the box in big, blocky lettering. A small cartoon of a hungry consumer with a look on their face that bridged the gap between toothy grin and ravenous hunger, the holographic shifting ever so slightly between Human, then Hybrid, Muton and finally Viper, though the Viper's appearance was stretched a bit to fit the rather small holographic, the smile on the box matched Cherub's as he shook the small nuggets of what Archer thought looked like cornflakes. Cherub spots him as he's waiting for his coffee, smiling as he goes to grab a carton of milk from the Fridge.

"Hey Archer!" He says, only getting a mumbled hey in reply and a light handwave from the still drowsy human. "Want me to make you a bowl?" He offers, extending the box to him. To which Archer declines with a shake of his head.

"No thanks, I'll probably just make some eggs and bacon. Thanks for the offer though." He replies, to which Cherub nods and fetches the milk out of the fridge. Smiling down at the bowl as he poured the milk, grinning like he was about to see his favorite part of a movie. Archer felt his nose wrinkle up in disgust as he saw the fat, lumpy nuggets begin to wriggle in the bowl. Within seconds the entire bowl of cereal looked as if it were alive, squirming and writhing like maggots. Archer gags for a second, feeling like he's about to spill the contents of his already empty stomach before the urge recedes and he turns his head away.

"Are you surhe you donh wan aneyh?" Cherub asks again after horking up a spoonful of the wriggling cereal.

"I-I'm sure." Archer repeats.

"Awh, buh ish tuh CEREALH THAT WRIIIIITHES!" Cherub says, echoing the cereal brand's slogan. Archer nods his head without another word, leaving Cherub to his cereal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Cherub."

Archer turns his head to the doorway, his expression softening when he sees Torque, his Viper comrade dressed in a light shirt and nothing else. Her slitted eyes scan over the common area, first to Cherub with his cereal and then Archer still waiting for his coffee, by now the grinding of the machine peters out and he looks down to the pot, then up to Torque.

"Hey, Torque." He says, offering a smile. He's returned by her slithering up to him and then reaching over to take his pot of coffee. Eliciting another, more annoyed "Hey!" out of him.

"I was making that for myself." He continues, watching as she pulls a mug from the sink, rinsing it out before pouring out her cup. Taking it as she leaves the pot behind, to which Archer takes. "Ingrate." He mumbles under his breath as he pours his own cup of coffee.

Adding his milk and sugar he blows off the small halo of steam that had been forming on the surface of his coffee before taking a sip, practically sighing with relief as his wake-me-up flowed through his body.

With his coffee in hand, and after a filling breakfast of bacon and eggs he had rested a hand on the steel handrail, looking down onto the ground floor. Furrowing his brows at a black truck which had backed up into one of the garage doors, a shifty looking Viper with sandy-colored scales resting a hand over one of several crates. Off to the side was the tall, lithe Sectoid, walking off in a dignified manner, hands clasped behind his back. He recognized the Sectoid as the only Sectoid in the squad, Verge. Across the gap Archer could see Whisper and Godmother hunched over the holographic map of City 31. The Frenchwoman seemed up and alert, as if it weren't 6 in the morning and she wasn't just in a firefight the other day. Whisper on the other hand rested a hand on the edge of the table, coffee in hand.

Archer went downstairs. Taking the early morning opportunity to get to know a few of his fellow squadmates. Starting with Verge.

He caught the sectoid proceeding towards the exit, continuing on in a steady, yet insistent stride. Moving with purpose towards the front door of their base.

"Hey, Verge." He says in a neutral tone, a bit louder given the distance he was working to close between them, but not outright shouting. The Sectoid turns to give him an inquisitive look. Something about the familiar but not-quite human features turning to scrutinize him giving him a slight feeling of unease. Something he wondered if the Psionic Alien could pick up on.

"Ah, Archer. Congratulations on a successful mission." The Sectoid began in a polite tone, his hands clasped behind his back as he turned down to look at the slightly smaller human. While Archer was by no measure a short human, the Sectoid was a good half foot taller than him. Mostly lithe and slender, he looked like a pink telephone pole. A comparison that brought a small smile to his face.

"Thanks, Verge. Where are you going so early in the morning?" Archer asks, looking up to the alien.

"Ah, that is actually related to your previous mission. I have been deployed to the local 31PD precinct to help conduct a thorough ahem questioning of the hostiles you apprehended." He replies, his decorum never failing to exude politeness. Archer didn't need him to explain why he in particular was going. He had encountered enough Sectoids to understand their immense psionic ability. Having Verge in charge of interrogating the captured Sacred Coil would make collecting any information about their operation laughably easy. If they knew anything, Verge, and by extension Chimera Squad, would know it as well soon enough. With their brief greeting concluded, Verge made his way to exit the base. Leaving Archer to venture off to the next point of interest, the black truck that had backed up into their base.

Coming closer, he saw a pair of disinterested aliens offloading one of several crates onto a nearby table, a Viper dressed in a black leather jacket and red neckerchief crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the underlings, a muton and sectoid, laying a black, rectangular case gently down.

"Sasko, Vinnie. Be gentle. Pretend it's your Mother you're laying down on that table. If your Mother was capable of leveling a building. Well, Sass, you're a Muton so that may be the case, I dunno." Archer hears the Viper's voice clearer and clearer as he comes closer, by the time he arrives at the table her slitted eyes meet him and she slithers off from where she rested inside the Truck, coming down to meet Archer.

"So, you're the newest egg in the incubator, right?" She remarks, her tongue flicking out at him.

The expression baffles him for a second, his brows furrow and he leans forward onto the table. Looking first to the other two Alien workers, and then the Viper woman. "Excuse me?" He says.

The Viper grins and her fangs catch the light. A predatory leer that makes Archer's grip on the table tighten. The moment felt eerily similar to when he and Torque first met, the tension between him and the alien building, until finally she smiles, claps her hands together and elaborates.

"You're new." She reiterates in a clarifying tone. Pulling her hands apart to wave a scaly appendage over the wares her underlings had laid out with such care. "I'm Xug, proprietor of the Viper's Nest. Plenty of ADVENT gear is still floating around after the War. I simply accrue this equipment and resell it back to those who would use them towards more benevolent ends. See anything you like?" She says with an entrepreneurial flair.

Laid out on the table was a trio of boxes, two smaller black crates flanking the longer one in the center. With a nod from Xug, her employees undo the latches and open the crates. The leftmost and rightmost crates held a small collection of high quality, military-grade weapons attachments. Right away he could see the advanced foregrip and stock poking out, in another were plasma grenades, and at a glance Archer saw that there were nearly a dozen.. But the centermost crate, clearly a weapons crate by the size and shape of it, was what really grabbed his attention.

Inside was a beautifully crafted beam rifle, the barrel capable of extending and retracting back into a cylindrical chamber tucked inside the assembly. The sleek curves of the casing clearly identified it as an ADVENT rifle, and a high-powered one as well. Archer looked over the craftsmanship of the piece of alien gear. "I've...never seen a gun like that."

Xug smiles, knowing she's piqued the human's interest. "Not that many people have. Was an experimental design meant for ADVENT Headhunter teams. Some fancy dual-configuration rifles. Good for medium and long range engagements and capable of switching it's configuration from DMR to Sniper Rifle on the fly. Not many survived when XCOM torched the ADVENT R-and-D labs after the war. Far as I know, this is the only one in existence." She said in an alluring voice, silky and singsong as she watched Archer's hand slowly move towards the crate.

"Agents! Form up!" He heard a female voice bellow from above him. Bringing him away from his interest in the rifle to look up to Godmother, fully geared up and calling to the other Reclamation Agents milling around the base. Indicating the start of their day. Almost reluctantly he turned away from the rifle on the table, with Xug giving a small, sympathetic shrug.

"Maybe next time, Egg." She cooed as he pulled himself away, turning to jog up the steps to the Briefing room.

"Yeah, maybe next time."