"Security check and psi screenings are clear, 'Vampire'; I'd say that concludes the debriefing on our first encounter with the Gatekeeper." Bradford gave a welcoming grunt. "Welcome home, Javier."
Javier Lopez exhaled as he slipped off the old gas mask, stepping into the quiet little cove of the Avenger that he called home. The newer staff that whispered rumors of XCOM's "Vampire" would probably be shocked to find that the only things of value he had on his makeshift desk were an old cookbook and a vase filled with white magnolias.
Seeing those flowers always brought forth a dry chuckle from his throat. His fellow squadmates at XCOM, particularly one Tao Deng, had insisted on buying him "the most anti-creepy desk ornament" they could find. Apparently, he needed something to talk about besides alien anatomy discussions that made a green recruit duck towards the bathroom.
He'd kept them well watered and cared for, but admittedly he wouldn't have had them as his first pick. As he took off his worn patch-brown uniform off and grabbed a green t-shirt, his mind drifted back to a time 30 years past, when he had only been a child.
"Mama, what kind of flowers are those?"
"They're heather, Javier dear."
"But why would they be purple, Mama? Is it good for dye?" Little 5-year-old Javier had recently found a book about the meaning of flowers, and ever since then, had become convinced that their colors were a special science of sorts.
Her laugh caused the brown-haired boy's face to scrunch in confusion. "I think they may have been used for tea."
"But how can you drink flowers, mama? And would the tea be purple?"
Another airy laugh, as chocolate brown eyes meet his confused hazel ones. "I think it's more like they were soaked and used for flavor. To me they're a good luck charm, though."
"How? Flowers can't protect anything."
"Oh, but maybe they can." His mother winked at him, a coy look on her face. "If my patients want to grow a garden, I always tell them to plant them for that lovely shade of purple."
"Is that because they're those flowers that live a very long time?"
"Yes, Javier." She smiled. "I tell them that the heather represents admiration and good luck, and that they should always be proud of themselves."
"So heather can grow for a long time. Just like people." He whispered those words quietly, leafing through the cook book absentmindedly as he looked in the metal reflection of his desk, illuminated by the faint purple glow of his eyes.
His crew cut head was starting to grow back patches of light brown here and there – nothing the gas mask couldn't hide, but he supposed the Psi had to take a toll on something with his rude awakening to the gift. While he certainly didn't envy Tao's hair being scorched a permanent chalk white, he at least knew that within the confines of the lab the young man wouldn't have to risk discovering his powers the hard way.
If anything, he expected Tao to soar much farther than he could with the refined tools at his disposal. Javier had heard rumors that the Chinese operative had recently learned to control minds, but it wasn't under his first mission out with Tao that he has witnessed how much of a game changer it was. Be it through using a hulking Berserker to toss its former Muton comrades about like rugby balls or forcing ADVENT Troops to scatter from constant Archon Bombardment, XCOM's first official Psi Op of this generation had been one of the many signs of a slow but steady turn of the war in their favor.
Like a disposable point man. Javier mused grimly to himself as he headed towards the lab. The tactic wasn't exactly unsavory, in his opinion – while cruel, it completely paled in comparison to an enemy that performed mass genocide to fuel some sort bizarre scientific cure for alien old age. For all their intelligence, the aliens couldn't figure out how to make a human, let alone care for one's corpse.
To Javier, every alien that was forced to serve them, dead or alive, meant one human life saved.
"Are you sure you're doing okay, Dad?" 18-year-old Javier Moreno frowned and leaned into the screen placed on his bunk, staring intensely at the older man's shadowed hair and unshaven black beard. "You look like you're being worked to the bone there."
"Oh, I am." His old man laughed nervously, blue eyes twinkling with a fire he had never seen before. "The kind of surgeries we're performing here are revolutionary. Improved optics, regenerating skin with wider pigment ranges… one could say we're creating the X-Men."
"Switch around a few letters and it's not hard to guess who you're working for." Javier chuckled, though his mind whirled with the possible implications of what his father implied.
"To be fair, we are selling these technologies covertly to as many nations as we can manage." The senior Moreno stifled a laugh and looked directly in the camera, smirking. "Not going to ask me about the procedure this time, Javier?"
"I would, Dad, but I can't even imagine the kind of work you do. At what level do you even start with altering the human body that way? Lab grown muscle transplants based on alien muscle fiber?"
"Not close at all, but you should be briefed on it in a few weeks, thankfully!" Gustavo Moreno puffed his chest out proudly and grinned. "Can you imagine it, son? If all goes well, I'd love to get out of this war with a pair of elastic legs!"
"Sure thing, dad." Javier rolled his eyes – whatever this semi-covert UN research division had cooked up this time, it had apparently resulted in invisible snipers and covert ops breathing fire, if the rumors in Argentina were to be believed. He'd reserve judgement until he was certain his training wasn't going to be extended by a few months to accommodate for someone's third limb.
"Ah, Javier!" The rough, hearty voice of Duane Patterson, eight years his junior (but eight times better a killer) greeted him as he strode towards the lab. "Just as expected, going to stick your divining rod in the Gatekeeper, no?"
"I'll get a divining rod the same day your codename becomes 'The Salesman of Death'." Javier retorted. "How's Gabrielle doing?"
"As well as a madwoman that can fill a magic floating golf ball with bullet holes should be doing."
"You're just sore you didn't get the final 'Big Shot' in on it." Javier snorted. "Is everyone uninjured trying to sneak a peek at that thing's insides just because of the Psionic rift it tried to open?"
"Well, not all of us are Doctors of Death, so the next time we see it, it'll likely be Tao's fancy new Psi-Pistol."
"Amp."
"You get the idea." Duane laughed, reaching up to push his messy puke-green hair out of the way. Javier wondered sometimes how he'd manage to keep it that way for so long. Hair dye wasn't exactly the easiest item to find on the Black Market, though he suspected the rather…underwhelming color had driven any Resistance teens with a shot at luxury item towards something more fashionable.
Not that Duane had exactly kept up with fashion, anyways.
"I-i-it helps me blend in with the grass!" The panicked 16-year old blurted out as he shakily held the pistol at 24-year-old Javier "Lupin" Moreno, who slowly lowered his AK-47. "I swear I'm not with them, please don't kill me!"
"By the name of the L- loose-legged shepherd, kid." Javier almost snarled, causing the young Duane to try and back up – emphasis try. His twisted leg certainly didn't help his case. "What was a kid like you thinking, charging those ADVENT troopers with some family relic?"
"My dad, my sister, they killed them all…" Duane was half-sobbing now, as Javier signaled for Kalia to come over. "I wanted to show them-"
"Kid, if you're gonna 'show them', don't shoot straight into their goddamn chest plates." Javier grunted, motioning for Duane sit down as he grabbed a few nearby sticks and began unwrapping some bandages. "If I were you and was that close, go for the mouth next time. It's the only part they leave exposed."
"Let's worry about that later, 'Lupin'." 16-year-old Kalia Kadam's voice interrupted them. "Or are you going to tell me to buzz off and get the truck full of alien metal ready?"
"No, I need an extra pair of hands here, actually." Javier replied. "He's bleeding regularly from the scratches on his face, definitely not another goddamn fleshbag-shifting thing." Ignoring Duane's hurt look, he continued. "Since we know he's not an alien, let's get to the bigger issue, internal fracture at the lower left leg. Need you to hold my stuff while I make a splint."
"There's a perfectly half-broken cart right there." Kalia grumbled, but she complied, looking around to make sure the other resistance soldiers had them covered.
"Hey, uh." Duane spoke up again. "Will I be able to kill those ADVENT bastards like you guys did someday? What kind of stuff do I need to learn?"
"One thing at a time kid." Javier interrupted, carefully trying the splint and slowly twisting Duane's leg into the proper position. "And if you're going to ever shoot again, I think I'd rather you were at the back. That, and you better unlearn whatever Hollywood taught you."
"By the way, you never did explain to me why you changed your last name to Lopez, old man." Duane chuckled as Javier emerged from a nearby changing room, now dressed in one of the lab coats typically used by the research personnel.
"Ah, yeah, that." Javier grumbled. "They apparently made some poor sap cry enough with their Psi to have him leak a bunch of key figures in the Spanish Resistance cell. Somehow an ex-military private who never finished his combat medic training was on that list."
"You ever make any of them cry like that?" Duane mused. "After all, you were making troopers piss their pants long before Tao passed the Psi screenings."
"Don't quite think so." Javier replied thoughtfully, as he checked off all the tools present from Tygan's previous dissection of the creature before slipping on his mask and stepping inside the cell. "You don't exactly get to peer into someone's mind when you're just forcing their bodies to choke them alive with every neurotransmitter you can think of."
It had been less than a week since Operation Gatecrasher, and 35-year-old Javier Lopez was starting to worry that just being a good shot with his AK-47 wasn't going to cut it for his position on board the Avenger. Kalia had proven a natural with the heavy machine guns in the armory, opting to even carry a grenade launcher – he had to admit, the 24-year-old woman had put on a lot of muscle with the heavy lifting she'd done over the past years in helping the resistance. Daichi Matsumoto, a slightly older Japanese man and fan of radio gadgetry, had taken to operating a Gremlin like a natural. And of course, Duane, bless the kid's heart, had wisely decided to stay in the back and make himself less of a target by staying down and taking long shots with a sniper rifle (though he insisted on keeping that old relic of a revolver as a memento, much to Javier's amusement.)
While Javier had always been decent with treating standard injuries, he couldn't exactly compete with the bio-repair gel in a Medikit in terms of speed on the battlefield. They were no longer just facing against the riot control idiots that ran at them with stun batons, either. Being in XCOM put them at the front of the strongest the enemy had to offer – professionally trained soldiers firing high speed magnetic slugs that he'd seen tear apart other resistance veterans in lower profile operations before he could even blink.
Magnetic slugs that they were in fact, hiding from right now in some shantytown that apparently used to be part of Arizona. They'd only touched down and if not for the Commander's orders for them to sprint to cover 5 seconds later, the first Advent patrol would've melted them to puddles.
Then the Sectoid came. The fresh faced Saudi Arabian recruit – Gharam, apparently – lost her nerve at seeing the alien walk up and tried to fire a few shots, only to scream for help seconds later as the Sectoid had…extended some web of purple energy over her, much to the group's horror, pulling her around like a puppet on strings.
A puppet that conveniently now had its gun pointed at Javier's face even as she screamed in terror. Thankfully, the Commander's crisp orders echoed through their comms in that second and Daichi's flashbang had hit the damned alien square in the face, blinding it and forcing it to lose concentration.
Javier, however, didn't notice any of that. His attention had been drawn to the Sectoid's muscular twitches, the limbs and joints it'd seemed to prioritize while attempting to force Gharam to turn around and pull the trigger. So concentrated that he hasn't noticed the Sectoid reaching out and firing a purple beam in his face.
For a moment, it had felt like he was everywhere, then nowhere, then submerged in a pool of water that was rising to consume him – one that never finished as he felt the Sectoid scream in pain and fall dead, as Daichi's Gremlin swerved around him.
"Hey, Javier!" Kaalia yelled. "You sure the X-ray didn't get you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" He yelled back. "Tell me next time if that fucker breaks my own leg, though, I don't want to give Duane any more material."
"Yeah, pretty sure he's got his wits on, Commander." Kaalia sighed in relief as she surveyed the area, heavy cannon at the ready. "Do you want us to advance?"
The Commander's attempt at a response was cut short by a very loud screech of "MOR BALATEN" as another group of troopers kicked down the doors of the shopping mall and opened fire. Javier didn't even have time to see if anyone else had made it – he dove back behind the brick wall and cursed. Panicked cries echoes in all directions, and many of them did not belong to the three other voices he heard over the comms.
ADVENT was shooting through civilians to get to them. The pieces of shit. He thought back to the Sectoid, clenching his fist in anger as adrenaline rushed through his brain, mixed with rage. If they could play with muscles and neurons to make meat puppet fools out of good men, then why shouldn't he? Just because he wasn't "Gifted" enough?
"I'm out of grenades!" Kaalia's voice crackled through the comms. "Daichi, do you have enough juice left in the Gremlin for a shock?"
"Negative!" Daichi's voice rasped over the comms. "I don't know how much more ammunition we'll have if we just keep shooting back at them!"
The Commander's orders might as well have been static as Javier slumped down in defeat, hidden from the magnetic rounds flying at the rest of squad huddled behind metal crates. It wasn't fair, damnit. He'd finally found out the truth about his dad, a man who had given his body and soul to this best black ops squad in the world that lost due to some bigwig crying to the aliens about their base's location. He'd finally thought, for the first time in his life, that with whatever little advanced technology and training XCOM could provide, that he'd found a purpose again – not just rescuing dumb ass kids and bringing them home, but to stop the alien tyrants, once and for all.
Javier punched the brick wall in frustration. He didn't want to die here, in his first week of really making a difference in this godforsaken world.
The brick responded by cracking with purple electricity…no, that was his hand. His hand glowed the same color as the purple of heathers and violets, flickering with energy that bored into his eyes.
It was the same energy as the Sectoid's, yet he knew it was his own.
Javier's brain whirled into action. He didn't know jack about messing with someone's brain, like all the stories of the Sectoids claimed they did. But if Psi could be used to manipulate the muscle, then maybe…
He thrust his right hand out desperately at the corpse of the ADVENT trooper slumped against the door of the shopping mart, ignored by the trooper standing over it that was still shooting at Kaalia.
"Move. Fucking hell, MOVE!" He yelled, waving his arm frantically.
Nothing changed…and then much to his shock, the corpse's arm flew out at a speed he didn't even think was possible, slamming the unsuspecting trooper's entire body into the pavement with a sickening crunch.
By the time the other troopers had looked back, the rest of the squad had put bullets in their heads. Javier stood up and groaned in relief – only to realize the corpse was also standing up, hunched over like a man with a severe spinal defect.
After several seconds of silence, the Commander's cold, intrigued tone broke through the commons once more. "Javier. How many hits do you think that… zombie can take, with its armor still on?"
Javier smirked. "Plate's fine, that particular one bled out. Since it won't feel any pain, it just needs to keep its head low and take shots."
No casualties were reported by XCOM personnel for the rest of Operation Night Wolf.
"Ah, Mr. Lopez." Tygan greeted him with a familiar tone as he walked in. "Here to see if the Gatekeepers are susceptible to reanimation?"
"I doubt it, Doctor. I couldn't get the hang of keeping a Viper balanced on its tail; what makes you think I'll do any better with what seems to be a giant eye?" Javier grumbled, setting a scalpel down on the table. "The electrical contractions were surprisingly like a human's, though."
"Yes, indeed." Tygan noted thoughtfully. "I wonder, did these organisms perhaps, at once time, sustain most of their bodily functions through Psi, not unlike an Elder? With optics this large, they could maximize their use of Psi by directing at very specific targets like a lance of sorts."
"Would certainly explain the aliens giving them a giant, unwieldy beam cannon in that area instead." Javier chuckled. "What a damn waste."
"Indeed, such an observation would be consistent with their difficulties of aiming such a weapon and a reliance on a large, several meters wide void rift, as opposed to a precise strike." Tygan nodded. "Perhaps we could replicate the focusing design in a Psi Amp, though."
"Think so, yeah." Javier nodded, thoughtfully holding his right hand out as he attempted to force at least part of what remained of the Gatekeeper's eye to react. Much to his surprise, it began to contract.
"Hm." Javier turned to look at Tygan, who was also carefully studying the movements. "Doctor Tygan, these contortions are quite similar to a human being's, and you know quite well that I've started to study specific muscle movements and body chemistry so that I'm not just raising shambling cannon fodder."
"Indeed." Tygan jotted down a few more notes, before motioning for Javier to stop moving the eye. "Mr. Lopez, are you suggesting that your reanimated corpses would benefit from better eye sight?"
"I highly doubt it, Doctor." Javier chuckled. "Rather, if I get a proper understanding of what electrical signals to send and the right amount of adrenaline, maybe I can give our living soldiers a boost to their eyesight."
"It'd be quite intriguing to see our resident 'Necromancer' supporting our live personnel for once." Tygan gave a small smile.
"Don't jinx it." Javier grumbled. "Next thing I know, they'll be calling it a 'Spirit Guide'."
Hey everyone, FrostedMelody here! I hope you enjoyed this story of XCOM2, which is inspired by the modded Necromancer class created by Ekscom and BTernaryTau. You can find this class for both the vanilla game and War of the Chosen on the Steam Workshop - If you have the game, I really suggest giving it a try!
I wanted to try and keep the class consistent with the ingame lore for those who aren't familiar with the mod, so I styled the Necromancer as a sort of "imperfect" Psi-gifted soldier that had to invent their powers on the run (as opposed to a specific training regimen in a Psi Lab). I hope you enjoyed reading it!