Hey everyone!
For those wonderful lot of you who've followed what little works I've put out since I came to this site, I apologise if for leaving my previous titles unattended for so long. But College sure is a thing and a half.
And now, a new all encompassing muse has saddled onto whatever free time I've earned. It's one that had already sunk her teeth into me since Autumn of last year, and with the release of it's even-more amazing sequel, I can no longer ignore the pull to finally put my pen back to paper, so to speak.
I am of course talking about the XCOM series, and more specifically a the moment, XCOM 2!
However, my first foray into XCOM Fanfiction won't be about my own people just yet. Instead what this is, is (an attempt at a version of) a novelized interpratation of the first (and at the time of this writing, current) Full playthrough of the game by a Youtuber named Christopher Odd.
"*Gasp*" There are XCOM players on Youtube other than Beaglerush?!" Why yes, yes they are, and he's pretty damn good to. Check him out if you haven't already.^^
Full on Disclaimers first though:
1) I do not own XCOM 2. The game is the full creation of Firaxis Studios and published by 2K.
2) I do not own this playthrough, this is a novelization of the storyline as experienced by Christopher Odd.
3) Finally, I own absolutely none of the characters in Chris' Character Pool, and thus none of the Characters that appear in his Roster. The only thing of my creation is my personal take on each of these soldiers' personalities and struggles as I present them here.
A final note: The urgings of my muse sadly only hit critical mass around the events of episode 14 of Odd's playthrough, so I'll be moving forward from there. Perhaps eventually I'll retroactively write up the events of the preceeding episodes, but we'll see.
Whew! But for, I hope you enjoy my attemps to chronicle the trials and tribulations of Odd's people. Or as I like to call them:
An Odd Bunch Of Soldiers
Jahana Locksley slumped down onto the bench in the armory, shoving her head into her hands and letting out an explosive breath.
Two missions. Two goddamn, heavy as all hell missions in a row where she'd been next to useless. Maybe even more if you stretched the definition enough.
No one said anything. At the very least it was a small mercy that the rest of the team and crew weren't so petty as to even insinuate that she was in any way, god forbid, doing it on purpose or not giving it her all. Just that her all just wasn't good enough.
Her eyes were still good enough to see it though. The sideways glances, the slowly mounting sense, not of distrust, but simply lack of faith. In her abilities. In her.
She couldn't pretend it didn't affect her either. Her (now supposedly barely earned) nickname wasn't Fire for nothing. When she'd FINALLY dropped that target during the last mission, it was impossible to stop herself from just bitterly biting out into the comms "Happy Now?!"
Again, no one said anything, but that didn't help the sense of shame that burned her chest, both at her continued streak of incompetence and her thoroughly unflattering lapse in attitude.
Without thinking, one hand lashed out behind her, fist banging the metal wall behind her.
"GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!" Hey, at this point, even if the rest of the armory wasn't empty, the rest of the squad long gone and leaving her to stew on her own, it's not like she had much reputation or credibility left to ruin.
A few moment ticked by like that, fist still pounded against the wall, head still in her hand, breathing growing heavy and her eyes squeezed themselves shut.
No. No no no no. She wouldn't let herself sink that low. She couldn't remember the last time she cried, but she certainly wasn't going to start over this.
But it was no one around, she had nothing left to lose and it was just starting to sting so much, to hurt so bad...
A hand closed gently around her fist.
Jahana whipped her head around faster than she could draw her pistol, glassy eyes coming face-to-face with bespectacled ones beneath a carpet of neon fuchsia.
"Hurting your hand isn't really going to help your shooting." Nora told her, not unkindly.
She could have said it as kindly as Mother Teresa, Jahana would have simply been incapable of not scowling something fierce as she turned her head away.
"Yeah well, pretty sure not even you'd be able to tell any noticeable difference at this point. Or does the Commander have your oh so much sharper eyes and steadier hands employed in some other job of such greater importance you haven't been reading the field reports?" Jahana growled out.
None of this was anybody's fault but her own. It was not Nora's, despite what some might think, and she certainly didn't deserve her spite. She knew all of that, but right now, didn't care anymore.
Suddenly she felt the bench shift as Nora sat next to her, Jahana's hand still in her as she brought it forward to hold between both of hers.
"What I've read is that you've been out there, doing your part, making sure as many of us come back as possible. That's more than a few of the others on this ship can say with absolute honesty. Including me at the moment" Nora replied, tone soft.
Jahana barked out a laugh. "Riiight. And how exactly has that been working out for everyone? Me being useless, people getting hurt, and everyone and their grandma practically BEGGING the Commander to let you take my place on the squad. Fuck, I'M not even sure why the Hell he doesn't! Maybe if I join in on the begging he might finally reconsider! Or is it going to take me getting Tom, John, Polo and Skinner killed before he finally fucking gets it?!"
"Jahana." This time Nora's voice was firm, her face resolute. "Stop RIGHT there."
"Why should I? You're twice the shot I've ever been or ever will be, and you wear glasses! GLASSES! Just what the fuck does that say about me, huh?!"
"It says that you're not some infallible super-sniper with diamond nerves and aim like a lightning bolt. And you know what?" Nora intoned as she squeezed Jahana's hand a little tighter, trying to keep her full attention, to make her listen to what she had to say, and what Jahana needed to hear "Neither. Am. I. No matter what the nimrods might like to think or say. Sometimes you're good enough, sometimes you get lucky. Other times you're just short, other times your luck runs out. True for you, true for me, true for every single soul onboard this ship and out there fighting those alien bastards, up to and including the Commander. And if hitting me right now helps you in anyway, then go right ahead, straight in the kisser." Nora demonstrated by showing her cheek to Jahana for a second, before turning back to stare her right in the eyes.
"But get this through your head Jahana. Nothing of what's gone wrong so far is your fault. ANY of it. And if anyone DARES to so much as insinuate otherwise, then they'll be getting a very personal demonstration of the skill they love to praise so much as I put one right between their eyes."
She brought up Jahanna's slightly bruising hand, still held between both of hers, stroking her thumbs lightly against the knuckles. "Sound good, Spitfire?"
For a bit, neither woman moved. Then Jahana's head hung down, the fight going right out of her, eyes shut again and a sniffle choking out.
Nora put her hand on Jahana's shoulder and brought her close, letting her lean in to bury herself in the crook of Nora's neck as she wrapped her arms around Jahana, letting the blond-braided woman finally let out all the grief and frustration that no one else would be willing to understand right now.