Hey there, everyone. Sorry to those who might have shared the link to this a few times, though I don't have enough self-esteem to believe it happened personally. This is only my second fic (the first so horrible it shall be hidden forever as long as I have a say in it), not to mention the first time I use this site. It's taking a while to figure out what everything does and getting used to the UI.
Anyway, this is a fic I made based off one of my characters in my XCOM 2 game, which was based off my character in a now canceled game called Triad Wars. I wrote his bio as a really paranoid person that really doesn't trust XCOM, and pointed to various things that people in his situation might be suspicious of.
This fic really wasn't supposed to happen at all. It started out as something I long forgotten, but a friend convinced me to turn what I had into an XCOM fic, so here we are.
I had a lot of fun writing this, and I only hope everyone has as much fun reading this. The part where no one really cares about ends here now, enjoy my hopefully good story and my definitely bad naming ability in the form of XCOM: Splinter.
XCOM: Splinter
Chapter 1
~ A Day in Hell ~
Sometimes, I forget I'm actually being paid for this.
Because really, who in their right minds would take any amount of money to put up with THIS?
It's not as if the streets or, hell, the fucking military was exponentially better, but THIS? I'm sitting in a ditch somewhere on mother earth and it smells like socks stuffed with mud, shit and old coins. Mag-bolts are whizzing over my head and where they hit mud splatters everywhere. Someone over the radio is saying something I can't make out over the sound of explosions and random mouth noises from every direction. I know this can't last, but I'm just really missing my bunk right now.
Obviously, if i sit here, I'm not moving any closer to my bunk, so there's my motivational speech.
Gunfire over my head is dying down a little. A frag should work. Pin out, lever off...two...now-
Bang!
"ON YOUR FEET, SHITBAG!"
I groggily opened my eyes and grumbled, "The fuck…?"
Wrong answer, apparently. Drill Sergeant Asshole Supreme kicked me right off my bunk and I fell flat on the floor.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he marched around the bed, M9 pistol still in hand, "did I interrupt a nice dream?"
"Uh…" I mumbled, clumsily standing up to attention, "No, sir...just...killing aliens and stuff…"
He leaned in even closer. I could smell his breath, and good God, what the fuck did he eat? "Still asleep are we? Need me to wake you up?"
And he started to slap me, again and again, "Hey shitbag, wake up! Wake the fuck up! Come on, wake up!"
"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"
I forced my eyes open, and I was still in hell, and hell still stank of mud, shit and old coins. Only difference was that it was a lot quieter than before, save an annoying ringing noise.
The date is December 28th, 2033. My name is Ryder Lynn. I was a petty criminal from the slums until an overambitious little heist left me with the choice of years in prison or less years than that in military service. When I left the military, I got right back into the business and climbed way up the ladder. 2015, aliens invade and my empire is completely destroyed by the time ADVENT really came around, which was sometime '16, '17-ish. Joined a resistance group mainly to get back at ADVENT sometime late '17. That group did pretty good until it fell apart sometime around '24 when a bunch of dudes suddenly exploded into blob monsters just as 3 dropships of troopers and MECs came in on top of us. Me and a few other guys managed to escape and formed a small splinter group that barely scraped by for a good few years. We thought we were some of the few still "resisting" in the world, till we managed to form up with this big resistance network under XCOM '30-ish.
Personally I'm very skeptical of this lot. They literally take their orders from a Shadow Man. So far that guy hasn't made any overtly obvious moves to fuck anyone over, but it's not exactly an ancient mystery the best way to betray someone is to earn their undying trust first. I try to avoid getting involved with them as much as possible, even telling them we're a mercenary group instead of a resistance splinter, though I'd be lying if I said the support of the wider resistance network was unwelcome, and that the occasional actions of the actual XCOM fighters didn't achieve something half the time. I just try to give them as little info about our group as possible, so in the event the entire thing comes crashing down, we'd be able to escape again.
Well seems like most of my memory is intact, I thought, noticing I forgot what I had for breakfast (assuming I had breakfast), only question now is…
"Stop slapping me, for fuck's sake, I'm up now. How long was I out? Fuck happened?"
The guy, Randall, his name was, turned to me, "Hell you saying? You got a concussion? Please don't get a concussion, we're still in the shit. Anyway, stray shot caught that nade of yours and the damn thing fell back into the ditch. I think I have shrapnel in my leg, you?"
I checked, "I think I have some in my right shoulder and hip. Vest caught most of the 'shrap, I think. Where's my rifle?"
He waved in the vague direction to my left, "Somewhere around thataw- " he didn't finish, a mag-bolt caught him square in the jaw and his head was blown right off at the neck. Those weapons could punch holes in cinder block walls.
"Fuck," I grumbled, before pulling out my radio, "This is Ryder, talk to me, over."
"Ryder?" It was Yuriel, muffled by static and background gunfire, "Thought you finally kicked the bucket back there."
"I did, Asshole Supreme was the receptionist down below and he told me to haul my ass back here," I said.
She chuckled, "Yeah, if that guy told me to come back from the dead, I would, too. Give me a second here..." gunfire was the only thing out of it for a bit, then, "Ow, I think they gave me a new piercing back there. Anyways, there are 2 troopers moving on your ditch, South-Southeast-ish, once you're done with them help us out here. We're holed up in the hideout still. Can't miss it, it's kinda the only building 'round here and it's on fire."
South-Southeast-ish. They're either heading straight for me or going around to get on both sides of the ditch further down and work their way up. And if I had to guess, I'd say they were confirming the kills, but who really knows what goes through these things' faces. It's what I would do, and it's kinda basic strategy to send more people than you expect to fight, even if your own guys have automatic railguns, high-tech, full-body armour, and a helmet so fancy it has no visor. Chances are I'm right though. I can hear stomping in the razed mud. From the movement sounds, it seems like they're doing the classic sprint-and-cover routine.
Again these freaks reminds me how creepy they can be. They're about as talkative as rocks, the only time any noise comes out of their apparent yaps is when you shoot them, and whatever these guys have for vocal cords, it makes their voices take nosedives down that uncanny valley thing, not to mention they don't speak Planet Earth. And yet they have almost perfect coordination, and get their orders without a word being passed.
I just don't get it.
They're almost to the ditch. The next sprinter runs up and stops some ways before the lip of the ditch, and I grumbled inwardly.
Clever, I thought, if there was something alive in here, you'll present two targets with two guns ready once the next sprinter comes up, too.
I had dragged Randall's body over my legs, and sat slumped over, eyes open and blank, and I was already covered in blood. At first glance I would appear dead. If I'm lucky a first glance is all these things would take, they do have a skirmish going on behind them still, after all. And then they'll decide to rejoin the others and turn their backs around to face me.
But since I'm unlucky, the freaks decide to hop into the ditch to make extra sure, at least they didn't just put a mag-bolt into each of us and be done with it, I guess.
And suddenly hell seemed to freeze over at the crack of a mag-rifle, and I wondered for a moment if it was all my blood draining from a gaping hole in my chest.
But there was no hole in my chest, and no further mag-shots, Next thing I heard was something tumbling down into the ditch.
The thing fell into view, and I saw it was one of the troopers. I didn't hear the other one move, and figured it must be dead, too.
Looking up corrected that guess. The trooper was standing there, rifle leveled and ready, and I realised the feeling before was the chill they say goes down your spine, except that it goes up and down everything.
It wasn't as if I was unprepared for something like this. I had a revolver in my hand, hidden under Randall's body, but I had intended to catch them off guard, not have a fucking shoot-off with them, and I just lifted my stupid head right in front of one of them when I was supposed to be dead!
No time to think, I grabbed Randall's body and raised it in front of me as a shield with one hand, and raised my gun hand at the same time.
To my surprise, the trooper lowered his rifle and raised a hand, "Stop," and I was so dumbfounded I did.
"I am no enemy," it said, "I am free of the Influence."
Oh great, I thought.
Unsurprisingly, even if everyone in the "resistance" hates the aliens and ADVENT, we still manage to find differences in each other enough to form rival factions. Some things just don't change.
The faction it could be said I belong to is the largest group, the sane and the idiots. We just pick up a gun and shoot the enemy, and are all maybe-sorta-not really under XCOM.
There are three other factions. One is made up of survivalists that eat the aliens they kill - which may seem resourceful on the surface, but has to be incredibly dangerous not to mention disgusting - called the Reapers, cuz apparently they are also emos.
The second is made up of complete maniacs that dive into this alien magic thing that is inside everyone or some such nonsense. I hear they even organise themselves like a religious cult, and call themselves Templars to boot. I'm honestly surprised the entire group didn't all end up brain-dead on conception.
Then there is the third faction, made up of "free ADVENT". Story goes that these guys are actually under mind control, and sometimes they manage to free themselves of it (or more likely, the ones already free go about freeing others), and these guys all end up in the Skirmisher faction, since no one else wants them, and for good reason.
Now correct me if I'm wrong, but if there was someone capable of controlling your thoughts and your actions, that someone can also make you think you are free of such control and that you have to join these resistance movements and get real close to these guys and have a few strings in as many of its operations as possible.
The other factions have a tendency to distrust each other, but NO ONE trusts the Skirmishers, fucking no one. XCOM seem to be cautiously optimistic about the group, and that's the closest anyone has gotten far as I know. They're probably really desperate for any help they can get.
And maybe I'm desperate, maybe I didn't think it through, maybe that frag knocked some common sense out of me, or maybe I'm just plain old stupid, but I decided to believe the damn freak.
Not completely, mind, I wasn't that out of it. I decided not to pop the guy for now, but I wasn't about to holster the weapon and go frolicking in the flowers with it just yet.
"Well," I said, slowly standing up, weapon still pointed squarely at the little gap in their helmets, "aren't I lucky, to run into a Skirmisher wannabe this fine day."
"We have no time for this," it said, "they are breaching into the stronghold even as we speak."
Just wonderful.
"Lead the way then," I said.
It nodded and marched off, and after a few seconds and wondering if I should just shoot it, I followed.
"The stronghold has surrendered," it said, "the prisoners are to be executed by firing squad."
"Any more good news?" It was a little while before that I realized I left my rifle in the ditch. All I had on me was the revolver, a combat knife and two frags I pulled off Randall(If they didn't kill me back in the ditch I damn well wasn't about to be taken alive.).
"Yes," it said, I don't know if it was being sarcastic. "The execution is only after all prisoners have been rounded up. I have reported you as my prisoner. They will wait for your arrival."
"Brilliant, the guys can live for a few more minutes, then." I said, my anger rising, "You want me to shoot you now?"
"Remain calm. We can save your comrades still," it said, "Their guard will be lowered. We can kill them all"
"This is unexpected," it said.
"No shit," I rasped.
We were approaching the building the others were holed up in, and there were more than a few troopers and a captain hanging around the place. There were more troopers and 3 captains, for one. There were even 2 MECs there, not to mention a few dropships hovering overhead.
"This isn't a normal raid. What's going on here?" I wondered out loud.
"I do not know," the trooper said, "we troopers were only told to assault this stronghold, and we were completely prohibited from using explosives."
That WAS odd, I thought, these guys chucked frags like nothing. As soon as a stand-off type situation comes up, the pin and lever of a frag comes off.
"What's that?" I asked.
2 more MECs came out of the building. They were carrying a metal box between them. I recognize that box, we pulled it off a truck a few weeks back on a convoy raid. It was locked up tight, but the other boxes had enough food and water to last a while, so we didn't try opening it too much. Some of us thought it had some weapons or equipment, so we didn't just ditch the thing, either.
"I...do not know..." it said, confused for the first time, "We were not told of anything we were supposed to find. This will not be the first time we weren't informed of the main purpose behind our operations, however."
One of the dropships came and landed to my right, putting us between it and the building, the troopers, MECs, and comrades, and the box-carriers started heading towards the dropship.
As we got closer, I could hear some arguing coming from the captured guys, all with their hands behind their heads. Specifically, one of the captains was saying something to Pavle, and he was shouting back, again and again, variations of, "English, motherfucker, do you speak it?"
"The captain is demanding who provided the information for the power converter," the trooper said.
"Converter? That's what's in the box?" I said, "We thought it was a weapons crate or something."
It shook its head, "Weapons do not need to be placed in a secure container. They have genetic locks that trigger when held by an unauthorized individual. It is to prevent dissidents and known deserters from using them."
"Good to know," I mumbled, "You got a plan?"
"An incredibly primitive and risky plan, yes."
"Funny. That's what I would call my plan."
By now, I had my hands behind me, seemingly bound, and the trooper was marching me ahead of it, angled to intersect with the MECs heading for the dropship.
The troopers' and captains' attentions was still focused on trying to speak gibberish to Pavle, frustration clearly boiling, and the shouting captain was trying to get the message across by gesturing at the box, and the other guys are struggling not to laugh as Pavle became increasingly offensive and nonsensical as time goes on
"What, the box? It's my collection of dildos and used syringes, what the fuck do you want about them?"
We had a plan. We might as well didn't considering what a horrible plan it was, but between a horrible plan that will probably get everyone killed and no plan and definitely get everyone killed, I think I'll go with the former.
"So you're policing dildos now? What's next, you gonna tell us that shoelaces are against the law and everyone has to wear velcros? Are you from the Velcro Conglomerate!? Are you!?"
We were almost on top of the box carriers by now. The MECs paid us no mind, they weren't supposed to, it's not their job to. One of the troopers noticed us and shouted, but we ignored it and kept walking. The others seemed to neither notice nor care, but time was running short now.
I mentioned earlier how it was basic strategy to bring more men than you expect to fight, and that holds true in most cases, but surprise and good planning can even up the odds.
Now I didn't have a good plan, I knew that already, but I'm thinking one of your own firing at you and his supposed prisoner turning out to be unbound and armed would be enough of a surprise that my sorry excuse of a plan might stand on that alone.
The MECs were immediately confused. They turned to face the newfound enemy only to find a friendly instead, then turned the other way, possibly thinking there was another enemy that it was shooting at. Meanwhile, I chucked the frag as close to the troopers as I dared hopefully harming as little of my guys as possible.
The troopers reacted much the same way as the MECs did, turning away looking for an enemy that wasn't there. The guys saw me toss the frag and took the hint, all of them flattening themselves against the dirt.
The explosion took out about half of the troopers, disabled one of the MECs and injured and stunned more troopers. The captains were pretty far away from the frag, though, since they were the closest to my guys, and most were confused at best. They tried to rally the troopers still alive, but my guys rose as one then and attacked them in melee, some even pulling out knives and shivs from hidden pockets.
The MEC that was still operating turned on my guys, and there was this moment where I thought I might have made a mistake, but the MECs didn't fire into the hodgepodge of fighting people, they were programmed not to hurt friendlies after all.
My trooper got a few good shots off and finally caught the MEC at it's neck, blowing it off, much the same way as Randall went, and the MEC went into standby. Seems the trooper knows a thing or two about how to deal with them.
I turned to face the last 2 MECs, but saw that they were busy loading the box into the dropship, the other dropships hovered uselessly overhead. Seems they were only transports and didn't have side-mounted weapons or anyone left in them to fire outwards anyway.
Now, I didn't want anything to do with the genny. I think we weren't even supposed to have gotten it in the first place, it was only luck we managed to get it at all, and it probably had a few tracking devices that lead ADVENT to us anyway. But I damn well wasn't about to just let them have it back.
I pulled the pin on my last frag, and hurled it at the lifting dropship. It landed right in the troop compartment and exploded, blasting away a part of the box, maybe damaging slightly what was inside, and knocking one of the MECs out of the dropship. It fell flailing out of the ship and landed with a loud klank on the dirt.
A distant crack of a mag-weapon pulled my attention back to the fight still going on. The guys were having trouble finding weak spots to jam they knives into, and some of the troopers and captains were beginning to break free. One captain drew it's mag-pistol and blew the head off one guy before a guy jammed his shiv right into it's mouth. Some guys managed to wrestle the trooper's mag-rifles free and tried to shoot them with it, only for it to backfire and blow their shoulders off.
"DON'T USE THEIR WEAPONS!" I shouted, "THE THINGS HAVE PERSONAL LOCKS ON THEM! THEY'RE BOOBY-TRAPPED!"
Nikolas looked up from the trooper he just killed, and had an idea. The guy always sticks out his lower jaw when he has an idea.
He reached down to the dead trooper and grabbed it's hands, using it to hold the rifle. He then pointed it to one trooper that had turned on one of the guys and was trying to beat him with the butt of it's rifle, and used the corpse's hands to pull the trigger.
For once, the sound of a mag-weapon going off didn't come with a feeling of dread, and the trooper fell messily to the ground. The fight turned then, more started using the trick, and me and my trooper arrived to help out too.
By the time I shot the last captain with my revolver, we had lost a good number of our own, and the dropships took off, deciding it was better to cover the box-carrier ship than stick around. Only ones left were me, the trooper, Pavle, Nikolas, and Yuriel. It took a little convincing for them to not shoot the trooper, but they came around.
The trooper removed it's helmet and collapsed on the dirt. "Is it always this exhausting?"
Pavle chucked, "Sometimes. Be glad you weren't here last Thursday." Nothing in particular happened last Thursday.
"Say, boy," said Yuriel, "What's your name?"
"My designation number is FT- "
"Stop right there," interrupted Nikolas, "We don't want to know your designation whatever. Give us an actual word that can be your name."
The trooper looked puzzled for a bit, then he said, "Beltar."
"The fuck?" I asked.
Beltar looked at me, "You wanted a word. That means 'run'."
"Feh, it'll work," I said, and reached towards him. Beltar grabbed my hand and I pulled him up.
"Only one rule here you need to know," I said, "You fuck us over, we shoot you. Got it?"
"Clearly," he said, nodding.
Then we all looked up, having heard it at the same time. The sound of jet engines approaching.
A few minutes after, it came into view. It wasn't another ADVENT dropship, but the Skyranger. I saw it a few times, when it ferried XCOM fighters into combat zones.
The Skyranger turned around and landed, its rear doors falling open and four armed fighters pouring out. One ran up to us.
"Where is the converter?" he asked.
"Hey man," said Pavle, "Nice of you to come and help us deal with this little ADVENT raid. We couldn't have done it without you. No, really. Without your gallant rescue, where would we be now?"
The man looked a little sheepish, "We only just received word a half hour ago about an ADVENT attack, we got here as fast as we could."
Pavle ignored him, continuing, " Extraterrestrial Combat Unit, XCOM. Our first and last line of defense against possible alien threats. Protectors and saviors of humanity. And has the WORLD'S BEST TIMING. No wonder the Earth was saved."
He was getting a little annoyed now, "Okay, look, that-"
"Shut the fuck up," I interrupted, "The box is in a ship heading for the horizon over that direction." I waved in the general direction the ship flew to, "Again, you're late."
"Dammit," he said, then walked off for a bit and said a few things into his radio.
"Hey, you. Yeah, you," I said to one of the fighters, "You got a smoke?"
He fished around in his pockets for a bit, then passed me one and lit it.
"Thanks," I said, and took a pull. The man walked back, having finished his talk with the radio.
"Okay, I explained the situation to Bradford," he said, "and he invites you to join us at XCOM."
Yuriel looked at him, then at us, "Well, why no-" "Because then we-" "What will become-" "Look here every-" "All of you, PLEASE-"
Listening to them argue, I took another pull of the cigarette. What a long fucking day it's been.