Phillip Dreyfus gazed into the near ink black darkness of the Normandy coast as the small convoy went to pick up the supplies for their next strike against ADVENT. They only had their fog lights on, so as not to draw any attention to themselves from any aircraft patrolling. Pulling out a silver lighter, the aging Frenchman flicked it on, the small flame barely illuminating his face as he lit a cigarette. "Monsieur, aren't you supposed to stop smoking?" the driver asked, concerned. Phillip huffed as he took a drag from the rolled up tube of tobacco.
"Son, at my age, and with ADVENT, my health doesn't matter," he countered. "And besides, I'd rather die on my terms, don't you agree?" His driver shrugged and nodded before focusing back on the road. Sighing, Phillip took a long drag and exhaled, a small cloud of smoke filling the air in front of his face. Rummaging through a jacket pocket, he pulled out a worn photo and gazed at it nostalgically.
It was a ten man team, barely a squad, clad in mish-mashed Kevlar and scavenged ADVENT armor sections. He himself was situated off to the side in the photo. Beside him, the grim face of Fury glared at the camera as Rook pressed her shotgun behind her head. On the other side of the photo, Zero stood, stoic as ever as a skull masked young Sergeant sat beside her, his left hand 'hanging loose,' as he had learned about the odd hand gesture.
In all, it was a reminder of another life.
Before Phoenix died.
Putting the photo back in his pocket, Phillip quickly spotted the buildings where the supplies were stashed. "Ten minutes," he stated as the convoy came to a halt, the freedom fighters quickly dismounting. Stepping out into the slowly creeping pre-dawn light, Phillip took another drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. Phillip pulled out a phone as the soldiers began bringing out crates of explosives to the trucks while their sole M2 Bradley IFV stood guard.
The phone rang.
Phillip flipped the top open as he answered the phone. "Oui? Yes, we're at the store," he said as he spoke to his contact in Paris. "I know, but my daughter is a bit… well, she doesn't play nice with her dolls. She puts firecrackers on them, and then puts them all over the house! The garage, the kitchen, why, I even found one of those dolls shoved in a first aid kit once! ...yes, I know, I need to reign her in, but ever since her mother died…."
A snap of twigs behind him forced Phillip to end the call early as a lone soldier stepped out of the bush close by, the soldiers under Phillip's command releasing the safeties of their varied weapons. The stranger was clad in an older woodland uniform, likely American in make, with painted over ADVENT armor sections on the chest, arms, and legs. Then there was the XCOM model ballistic helmet, the macabre skull on the front faceplate-
Wait, it couldn't be! But there was no mistaking it as anyone else. After all, he had seen Zero herself train Pup in her craft, and the evidence was there in his slow and careful gait, along with Zero's old S3 Special Applications Rifle. "Hold fire, hold fire!" he shouted, forcibly holding his hands out as he looked at the stranger before him. "Gabriel, is that you?"
The helmeted soldier nodded as he held out his arms in a welcoming manner. "Oui," he answered, his tone confused. "It's me. How long's it been, Phillip?"
"Too long!" the Frenchman replied, ecstatic that Pup was still alive and present. "When did you get into France? I thought you were still in America with your lovely wife and daughter!" It didn't go unnoticed by him that Pup tensed up at the mention of his family. Just because Pup had gone underground didn't mean that Phillip didn't keep track of Gabriel Hopkins.
"They're not with me anymore," he stated solemnly. "But what about you though? I thought you left all this behind you when you had Armand?" he asked, referring to Phillip's youngest son. Phillip shook his head as he walked towards Pup.
"Gabriel, you know better than anyone that ADVENT, it's not what the news says it is," he said. "Despite what they've done for us, they are still no better than the old world they claim to replace! A world where my sons must simply obey a government they cannot see is a world I cannot stand for them! And… and you betrayed us, working for them."
Pup huffed as he shifted Zero's rifle onto his back. "Oh come on Phillip, there aren't a lot of places left outside ADVENT control where I can get hired, much less be of use without getting slagged by ADVENT, you know that," he explained in an attempt to placate Phillip. "You have to understand Phillip, everything I do, is to protect humanity. Even from itself if I have to."
Phillip paused as he finally noticed the patches on Gabriel's uniform. "...you're too well equipped to be a mercenary," he said finally, his tone growing resigned. "And you do not have the livery of XCOM, which means-"
"I'm sorry, but I have to take you in," Pup said as he pulled out his revolver, seemingly ignorant of the platoon of rebels behind Phillip. "Stand down, please, I'm begging you, think of your children!"
"I cannot," Phillip said coldly as his troops aimed at his old protege. "There is far too much at stake here for me to simply let the likes of you from saving my country!"
He could almost see Pup grimace from his body language and through his helmet. "Then… I'll freeze to death in Hell with you." The next second, all hell broke loose as gunfire erupted from the buildings beside them, catching the rebels off guard as Phillip dashed into the bush, Pup closing in behind him. Moments later, the Bradley exploded, likely from a rocket launcher of some kind as the two former brothers in arms crashed through the wood.
"Phillip, stop where you are!" Pup commanded, firing a shot off from his revolver, gouging out a near fist-sized chunk out of a tree in front of Phillip. The aged soldier came to a stop, panting as he faced Pup. "Phillip, please, if you come quietly, I can make sure the Special Tasks Force won't get you," he pleaded, his revolver still up. "I don't want to tell Armand and Jean that their papa isn't coming home."
Phillip thought of his children, of his wife waiting at home, believing him to be in Paris for medical help for his cancer. He thought of his brief chat with the Informant, and how he had arranged for Phillip to have one last chance at glory. "You know that won't happen," Phillip said as he reached to a pocket behind him.
Pup wordlessly chambered a new round for the handgun.
"Don't make me do this. Please, don't do it. Please, Bishop, I lost Zero, and I lost you once, I can't lose you again!"
Phillip chuckled sadly as he realized Pup's true loyalty. "Ah, and you show an old man your true colors. Very well. From one soldier to another, it has been an honor. Vigilo Confido!" he cried out as he pulled out the object from his pocket.
He didn't hear the thunderclap of the revolver going off.
Phillip didn't feel the pain of the .45 Colt Hollow Point entering and destroying his chest cavity.
The last thing that XCOM Lieutenant Phillip 'Bishop' Dreyfus saw in his life was the regretful form of one Sergeant 'Pup' Hopkins rushing to his side.
[][][]
Marielle Dreyfus was humming to herself as she washed the dishes, her youngest son Jean back in the dining room finishing his homework from the local ADVENT trade school. It had been several days since her husband Phillip had left for Paris for the treatment of his cancer, and the normally doting father had not yet made a call to them. And a small part of her was dreading what it could possibly mean.
"Jean, could you turn the television on?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the plate in her hands.
"Yes Mom!" he cried out, stepping away from his homework to turn on the aging device, only to stop in confusion as he looked out the front door. "Mama, are we expecting any visitors from the Administration?"
Marielle looked up and saw the small black armored car coming to a stop in front of their home, a pair of soldiers inside talking. A moment later, the driver stepped out, revealing an older man, his brown hair starting to silver under his anachronistic Sergeant's cap.
"Jean, get away from the door," she commanded, letting the plate fall back into the sink. Slowly, she made her way to the door as the soldier came to the door, an envelope clutched in his grasp.
"Mademoiselle Dreyfus?" the soldier asked, his body tense in trepidation. Marielle nodded.
"Oui," she answered. The man gulped.
"My name is Sergeant Major Hopkins, with the Peacekeeper Corps., may I come in please?" he asked. "I… I would rather you sit down for what I'm about to tell you." Marielle stepped aside and let Hopkins inside. Stopping by the table, Hopkins pulled out a chair for the lady before looking at the letter in his hands. "Ma'am, I… I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…." He sighed as he handed her the envelope. "Your husband, Lt. Phillip Dreyfus, was killed in combat several days ago in the Normandy area."
Marielle opened the envelope with shaking hands and slowly, fearfully read the letter inside. "How… how did he die?" she asked him, tears forming in her eyes as Jean looked at Hopkins in anger.
"Lieutenant Dreyfus was found in collaboration with a rebel element operating out of the Normandy Beach area," Hopkins explained hesitantly. "ADVENT forces intercepted him and his men in preparations for a strike against strategic targets, and… he was killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest. He didn't suffer Ma'am."
"You know too much for some clerk," Jean accused, glaring at Hopkins pointedly. Marielle snapped her gaze up to her son in anger.
"Jean Claude Dreyfus, behave yourself!" she snapped, pointing at Hopkins. "He is a guest, no matter… no matter how grave the news he bears!" she added with a sob.
"Missus Dreyfus, your son… your son is right," Hopkins admitted as he took his cap off, his head hung low. "I… was there when Phillip died."
Jean was quiet as he pieced the pieces together. "You… you killed him," he stammered before shaking in rage. "You killed him! Tu es un monstre!" Jean screamed in French before moving to attack Hopkins. Marielle was expecting Hopkins to retaliate as her youngest son swung his fist… only to gasp as Jean's fist collided with Hopkins' cheek, sending him stumbling back with nary a word spoken.
"I know I'm a monster," Hopkins said as Jean panted from the swing. "There has not been a single moment that has gone by where I wish I didn't pull that damned trigger. But I did, and now, I have to live with the fact that a man I considered an uncle is dead by my own hand. Your father was the bravest man I know. If you want to respect his memory, then do something with your life to change the world." Hopkins paused to put his cap back on.
"For what it's worth, I begged for him to stop for you," he said as he reached behind him to pulled out a folded French flag. "I never wanted us to meet like this," he added, setting the flag reverently on the table. "Goodbye, Mademoiselle Dreyfus, and Monsieur Dreyfus." The two of them watched as Hopkins exited their home, and the moment the door shut closed, Jean stormed up to his room, his homework forgotten as his mother began to sob in grief.
Later that night, as Jean looked through the ADVENT Network for information on Sergeant Major Hopkins, his scowl deepened. Hopkins was an engineer before joining the Peacekeeper Reserve, and he was now attached the 77th Human Volunteer Group.
"Mark my words Hopkins, I will make you pay for this one day!" Jean hissed as the moon shone through the scattered clouds.
A/N
That was another chapter of Xcom-the Other Stories, generously submitted by Dr1ft3r0I. If anyone else wishes to submit a chapter for this story, feel free to send me a PM, and we'll iron out the details, till then, this is Spartanrex10 signing off!