LCpl. Connor Walker
After we'd suffered our first KIA during what everyone's been referring to as the Green Goo Factory Raid, the Commander gave a wave of promotions. Ostensibly to "increase our strategic core and improve our flexibility in asymmetrical combat", but realistically to keep morale up. After all, the last thing you need is for people to begin thinking about their monthly chance of death. Despite not being on the raid, I got one too, for "valor under fire". If spraying at a hill and getting cut up by an insane purple track athlete counts as valor, then I suppose so.
We'd also received some upgrades to our fighting capabilities. The engineering team had managed to reverse-engineer the ADVENT plating, and much of the alloy had been retrofitted to new suits of armor. Meanwhile, the Skyranger's capacity had been bolstered to six. And Shen had made some new laser weapon prototypes. All in all, we were looking like a much more respectable fighting force.
I'd been assigned to the new Menace-2 squad, which was mainly made up of all of those soldiers that had joined up with XCOM after we got them out of a jam in one way or another. I think the Commander had a stroke after doing the audit and realizing how few combat-capable individuals we actually had. Our squad leader was to be Skirmisher Basilisk, and with most of Menace-1 out with injuries we were on standby for operations.
The Commander wanted us to have a "team onboarding session", and so two days after I received my assignment, the six of us were bundled into the cramped bar to "get to know one another." Of course, I knew Basilisk from our mutual encounters with the thing that Central had become accustomed to calling the "Assassin", but the rest of the squad was foreign to me, and from the awkward silence that our formerly ADVENT friend had been letting hang in the air for the last couple minutes, foreign to her as well. I sighed, and decided to bite the bullet.
"I'm Connor. Heavy gunner, been with the Avenger crew for the last couple months." Nobody took up my offer of conversation. Turning my head to our new squad leader, I asked her, "So, Basilisk, anything you'd like to share about yourself?"
"No." Well, swing and a miss. I looked around for any other volunteers. No dice.
"Look, sooner or later we're going to be in a situation where we'll need each other to not get our heads blown off. It would be good to at least know each others' names." The redhead at the other end of the seats finally decided to give me a reprieve.
"I'm Specialist Carpenter, and this," she pointed to the tall man next to her, "is Reeder. We're from a cell in the Rockies, met up with this crew about a month ago in Boise." This, at least, got the wheels of conversation greased, and so the other two also gave their quick backgrounds. The grizzled asian lady spoke next.
"Vivian Chu. Been with the North American Resistance intelligence network for a while, and now I blow shit up." The last to speak was the long-haired man wearing a black gaiter, despite the somewhat cloying heat in the small bar.
"Name's Johnny, but everyone calls me Cherry. Can't remember why. Was with the Canadian FOB for a while, and before that I barely remember."
With the introductions all handled, I tried to get us into some form of conversation, for the sake of "team chemistry" or whatnot. A futile task, but I might as well have. No matter, I thought to myself. The fire of, well, gunfire was sure to forge the bonds you'd want to see in a well-oiled combat team. That is, if we survived.
-xxx-
Our first mission was to say the least, audacious. We were to assault a factory on the outskirts of the ADVENT-controlled sector of New California, and eliminate a visiting ADVENT executive in broad daylight to send a message and embolden resistance efforts, while simultaneously dealing a blow to our enemy's talent pool. We were dropped at a friendly resistance camp, and they had provided us with a pre-war technical truck, and authorized us to bring it back in more than one piece if necessary.
I was given the driver's seat, because apparently nobody else actually knew how to drive. I hadn't the time to tell them all my sum total of driving knowledge was taking an old sedan out for a spin when I was still a child, decades ago, but how hard could it be, I thought to myself. As it turns out, quite. The roads into ADVENT territory were, to say the least, not well kempt, and there were the tell-tale grooves of ADVENT troop tractors cut into the dried mud, which apart from giving all of us a vague sense of foreboding was doing a number on both our suspension and my back. After hitting a particularly nasty pothole, I glanced back to make sure no one had been flung off the back. Vivian was sat next to me in the cab, with the other four holding on for dear life in the bed of the vehicle.
"So, how's your spine holding up?" I asked to my right.
"Well, I'm not getting any younger. Though this might give me a herniated disc." I chuckled.
"So, where you from? I got picked up from down in Texas, born and raised resistance. It's in my blood to fight aliens, or so my pops used to say." I saw Vivian roll her eyes.
"I'm old school. Halfway through my training with the CIA, right out of uni, when the invasion happened. Bunch of us weren't too happy with the regime change, and you know how some of those patriots can get. Been running counterintelligence with some of the more high-level cells for the last decade or so, mainly extraction ops. Last one got a bit messy, and I was glad when XCOM hot-dropped in. Less stoked about the Lost they dragged, but it worked, so hey. I've been in worse situations, but I don't think I could have lugged a geriatric with a broken ankle out of there. And my last escape from the Lost… well, let's just say it didn't smell great." She shuddered.
"Haven't seen any of these Lost, but given what some of the others have said I'll hope that continues. You got any intel on this asshole we're here to kill?"
"Just what Central told us. But based on what I know about the collaborators I know, you don't get high up in ADVENT's administration without being both a talented SOB and also breaking everyone's fingers on your way up. And out here? He probably knows how to shoot as well. So don't let him trick you, just blast him as soon as you see him. The Commander isn't asking for him alive."
I nodded, noticing that the pavement had gotten smoother. No ADVENT patrols or guards, but we'd been told as much in the briefing. The local resistance had been picking up steam, especially with the images of the Blacksite that we'd been helping to spread. The ADVENT in the region were in no way prepared for all-out war, especially not in the under-equipped fringes, so they'd been stretched thin to deal with all of the dissident activity. I had no doubt that they would probably be able to crush the resistance elements as soon as they got their full forces in the area, but that hopefully wouldn't be for a while, and in the meantime we would be ready to strike at the vital organs of the aliens' infrastructure and command. We couldn't afford to worry about the deaths if we wanted to win this war. I just prayed that it wouldn't be in vain.
Even as we began to enter the industrial sector, there was a shocking lack of enemy activity. Plenty of factory workers, who were too occupied or tired to give more than a cursory glance, and certainly an abundance of automated production robots, but nobody actually armed. I wondered if this would really be as easy as Bradford was saying it would be. "In and out". I knew better to trust those words, but I let myself dream. However, there would certainly be enemies when we got to the factory, which we were fast approaching.
"We'll have contact within the minute! Get on that gun, and get ready to fire!"
I heard the fire before I even saw the guards, their black uniforms blending in with the dark shade of the fencing and ground. In fact, I saw the blood before I realized what it was coming from. Basilisk evidently did not miss. I swung the car to the right, right into the thin metal of the gate, hoping to maintain the element of surprise. The good news was that the truck easily plowed through the metal gates, and they swung open with speed. The bad news was that I was both surprised and carrying speed, as I saw the front of the building far closer than I had anticipated.
I slammed on the brakes, which proved to be a very bad mistake. The truck was not just pre-invasion, but possibly also pre-everyone here being born, and as such did not come with any sort of advanced safety features. The fact that the ground was still slippery from recent rain did not help matters. Because of this, my attempt to halt the car resulted in all four wheels immediately locking, and the truck careening into the front wall of the factory. I heard the front give a hefty crunch as it crumpled against sturdy brick, and I braced against the wheel. No airbags also meant my face slammed right into my arms, and I was glad I had a helmet on. Not so much for Vivian, who had a gash cut across her cheek.
"What the fuck was that?" I heard a pained yell from the back, followed by gunfire. Two ADVENT guards approaching the vehicle fell to the ground as I heard the disapproving voice of Cherry.
"Wheels locked. Let's get a move on before we get flanked." I replied. Basilisk had somehow managed to stay on the gun, despite the crash. The other three were not so lucky, Carpenter having fallen off the bed of the truck and the other two knocked flat. Nevertheless, we were working on a tight schedule. I called for Reeder to grab the crowbar from the truck, and for Basilisk to watch our left flank. I covered our right, as another two guards approached. A quick sweep of laser fire from the new "LaSAW", as I had nicknamed it, took care of them quickly. The crack of metal shearing rang out as I finished off the two troopers, cueing us to enter before we got caught between three angles. At least inside the enemy would have to funnel through the doors, if they could even get in. I melted the seams of the door shut with a quick blast from my weapon after we'd all entered, as Basilisk took over command with an authoritative tone.
"Space out and sweep the place. Resistance should be holding the back exit, Command hasn't told us otherwise. He's somewhere in here. Comms clear, and don't hesitate when shooting. ADVENT's not going to let unvetted personnel near an executive. That means they're collaborators, and likely armed."
I took the left side with Vivian. The factory was large, but very limited in standing space. It appeared to be a massive foundry, with cauldrons of molten metal dangling from conveyors above. A sparse catwalk made up most of the floor, with machinery extending both up- and downwards, taking up most of the floor space. The delivery bays were closed, and I could hear faint gunfire from the other side of the building.
"Well, I'm hoping they can deal with the grunts until we can get there." We dispatched a handful of ADVENT as we swept our sector, but came up short when it came to our target. The radio messages as we finished up weren't much better.
"Got nothing on the rafters."
"Ditto with the right."
"So that means that they're in the basement. Great."
I hadn't even realized there would be a subterranean floor to this complex, but Basilisk and Cherry had found the solitary door on their sweep. After meeting up with the remnants of the Resistance, who reassured us that they had cleared out the ADVENT in the area, we prepared to enter the breach.
Basilisk went in first, and I followed after. Our torches on, as we didn't expect any light. As it turns out, it wasn't needed. The entire basement was lit up by several rivers of red-hot and liquid metal, languidly flowing to and fro between the various machines.
"What the hell…" Said Reeder.
"How is that even possible? Shouldn't it be solidifying? And radiating a stupid amount of heat? It's barely above room temperature in here!" Carpenter exclaimed.
"Shut it. We're about to take fire. I can feel it." And barely five seconds later, we did indeed take fire. I took cover behind some sort of press that had just slammed onto the stream of metal scant seconds ago, splashing metal all over the floor. I took a prone position, and pointed my machinegun straight at the machinery. I heard a whirring, and aimed down the sight. The trigger pull came right as the press hastily retracted, and a burst of laser fire struck down an unaware Sectoid, and sent another scrambling for cover. I rolled out of its sight line towards a retaining pillar to prevent its psionic retaliation, and sent another wave of suppressing fire towards the troopers taking potshots at the rest of the squad.
"Watch out, Walker!"
I barely had time to process the message before a stun lancer, blade extended, entered my sight. Backing up, I whacked the stun lance away from my body with the barrel of my unwieldy SAW moments before I would have been struck by it, the sound of electricity crackling as it bounced off a nearby railing. Undeterred, the lancer went for a quick jab at my gut. I gripped my barrel and slammed the body of my weapon down to parry the blow, hoping to disarm him. This, unfortunately, had the opposite effect, as the electricity surging through the stun lancer's blade began to conduct through the weapon casing, and I had to drop it before he could get in another shot while my arm muscles were busy involuntarily contracting. Now disarmed, I had to deal with this before I got attacked again, or I'd inevitably get hit and likely killed. As the lancer raised his blade for a powerful downwards slash, I rushed him down and football-tackled him. The blade made contact with my back as the lancer folded at the stomach, but I was already carrying too much momentum. Its back slammed into the railing, and the lance fell out of its grip as the impact registered. I quickly reached for the legs and tipped him into the stream of metal, and backed off from the inevitable splash.
"That's all of them, keep moving. He's in here somewhere." I heard Basilisk from over the mic. I went to reach for my gun, and took a moment to catch my breath.
"Any injuries?"
"Chu took a shot, but she's living. Get up here ASAP, we need to move."
As I broke into a jog to catch up, an explosion from above rattled my bones.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Spart-2, what was that?" I heard Basilisk yell over a different frequency. She kicked a piece of railing, and then tapped back into our channel.
"Resistance is taking heavy contact, and they've backed up around the basement door. ADVENT brought a drill to get their man out. We need to hurry up, backup for our support won't be here for a while."
We pushed through the factory, picking off the occasional straggler. Then a glimpse of green caught my eye. Then a much brighter flash of green nearly caught me in the eye.
"That's plasma!" I yelled. We traded fire with the new enemy, but these ones took proper cover, and made effective, if inaccurate, potshots from behind where they hid. Then Bradford came over the mic.
"Those are Mutons! You need to push them, or they'll flush you out with-" A bassy explosion came from beside me, followed by the sounds of tearing metal and a scream of pain.
"Grenades."
I kept my fire up, but I knew that I'd be out of power soon, and then we'd be exposed to all of the Mutons' fire. I glanced towards the scene of the sounds. Carpenter's face was shredded by metal, and her armor had plasma burns all over. Meanwhile, Reeder's leg had been crushed under a large piece of equipment, pinning him down. Their agonized screams meant they were alive, but we had to deal with those Mutons quickly, because if they ever got the chance to peek around the corner, our squadmates would probably be immediately killed.
"I'm running low, you've gotta think of something!" I said. A near-lethal pause later, Basilisk came over the mic.
"Cherry, if this hits, shoot it dead." I heard the noise of the Skirmisher grapple, and then a very ugly roar. Basilisk leapt into the air, and began flying towards the Mutons. She disappeared behind cover, but I could see alien blood, and then laser fire in that general direction. A couple more shots from the Skirmisher mag rifle and the room fell silent. We caught up with the hero of the moment, out of breath and with a fallen Muton on top of her.
"Go finish this! I'll be fine." I told Cherry to go tend to the two wounded, as I took Vivian to confront our collaboratore. He was curled up in the far corner of the roof, and we could see dust begin to fall from above him. The sounds of the drill were near, but not near enough.
"P-p-please don't shoot! I have a wife! And children! I'm only doing it for them!" I felt bad, but only in the abstract. Everyone was fighting for those they cared for, but most of us weren't selling out humanity to do so. I aimed right at his head.
"I'll come with you! I don't care about ADVENT, I'll help!" Now this did catch my interest. Having a double agent could perhaps be quite useful indeed. I began to lower my barrel by just an inch. An inch too far, it turned out, as the man slipped out a mag pistol from his boot, and pointed it at Vivian. I quickly brought my gun back up and shot him to a crisp, but not before he had managed to land two decent shots on her armor.
"Shit! Are you okay?"
"You should have shot before he said a goddamn word, dumbass. I'll live. But fuck, it hurts. And we're going to be out of medkits until we get back to the Skyranger. Ugh." She whacked me in the elbow with her rifle. I definitely deserved that. The ADVENT forces finished with their drilling moments later, but their VIP was dead, and if they wanted to get to us they were dropping into a dark killzone. A few tried, and then I supposed whoever was in charge realized it was a waste of manpower after all of them got instantly eviscerated by the two of us waiting in the darkness. It wasn't like they could even send more than one down that tiny chute anyways. So the next twenty minutes or so involved us waiting for our resistance contacts to clear out the remaining ADVENT as Basilisk came over the radio to inform us that everyone was alive, if extremely beat up.
We were eventually relieved, and while we slowly made our way back out, I took a couple moments to investigate what the factory here was even for. Some sort of metalworking, clearly, but to what purpose I had no idea. It wasn't like they were making cutlery. But the scale is what amazed me the most. Sure, I had heard tales of pre-invasion factories and what humans had done, but even if I took those stories at face value, this was far bigger and more automated than anything Dad had ever talked about. I got to wondering what we would do with stuff like this if we ever actually won the war and kicked the aliens off of our planet. We'd have access to so much that the aliens left behind, but would we even use it? Especially after all that the aliens had done, how would we make sure that it was used for good? Well, I wasn't paid to think about these things, now, was I. I hoped whoever would be in charge after the war would have it all figured out.
-xxx-
The next month and a half was eventful, to say the least. Menace-1 was still out of the picture, their personnel either injured or out with the Skirmishers to hunt down this "Assassin" that had cut me open all those days ago. Therefore, it fell to our squad to carry out all of the guerilla activities necessary to keep us on the offensive. With both Reeder and Carpenter out for an indeterminate amount of time, I was glad the Commander gave us a bit of help. Our first was a member of a group that called themselves the Reapers, that we had met up with after they had heard about the Blacksite and what XCOM did to it. The rumours of them being cannibals aside, the one they sent to us seemed by all accounts a very nice man. He called himself Dove, and showed no cannibalistic behaviour whatsoever. We all got along fine with him, though he didn't really talk. Except for Basilisk, who absolutely despised him for what I can only assume are deeply personal reasons.
We also got Jack Walls, from Menace-1. He had convalesced from the Blacksite at surprising speed, and the Commander had decided to put him on combat duty with us. Jack was an absolute godsend. Calm, cool, collected, and incredibly capable. He also seemed to take quite the liking to me. We hit ADVENT where it hurt, stole their supplies, and protected our own, all without a single injury or death. Chalk up 4 for XCOM, 0 for the aliens.
After Menace-1 recovered, and our squad finally returned to second-string, Jack offered me the vacant position of Menace 1-4. Of course I accepted. What type of person would I be if I shied away from combat, especially with the best of the best? I'd miss Vivian, but Dove, Basilisk, and Cherry were all solitary creatures, and despite being with them for nearly two months I still barely knew them at all. Two hours later, I was fast-roping in the suburbs of Montreal, and cutting down surprised ADVENT troops.
It was there that I realized that this was a squad full of Jacks. I guess that XCOM training from decades ago stayed locked in their memories, because they were killing machines. Our job was to rescue a VIP from ADVENT custody, and I was shocked at how efficiently we made this happen. We dropped onto a building that the Lieutenant described as "a perfect killzone." He was right, because after Sahara and Sparrow cleared out the two-storey shop in less than a minute, the ADVENT came crawling out of the facility, only to get mowed down by my CO and I, perched atop the roof.
"Too easy." He said. " Jack, get the cells open. Karl, blow open the doors, then get out the back. Firebrand's getting impatient." I was also surprised at their liberal use of explosives, as Sgt. Wentz casually blew open two holes in the ADVENT facility and the six of us strolled in as if we had nothing more to do than order a pizza.
"Dr. Yunkowski? The door's open!" Sgt. Walls yelled, as he kicked open one of the cell doors. Inside was a scared looking and disheveled man, still in ADVENT prison garb. "Come on, we're here to get you out." The prisoner quickly complied, and we walked out the hole on the other side of the facility. Several ADVENT soldiers made their way towards us, but they stood no chance, and were instantly vapourized by quick spritzes of laser fire. We grabbed onto the ropes, but before we left, Jack stopped us.
"Hold on, I want to take a photo."
"Now? In a hot drop zone?" Lt. Luo replied.
"It'll be fun, and only take a second. Plus, good propaganda!" The Lieutenant grumbled, but knew it would be faster to just get it over with. We gave our best smiles and poses, nudging our newly liberated acquaintance to at least play along. The GREMLIN quickly snapped the picture, and we left before any more ADVENT could interrupt us.
"Jack, that was stupid! We could have gotten killed by a stray patrol!" Said Luo.
"Nah, don't worry. I scanned right before I mentioned it. Nobody in sight range of us with a gun. Trust me, I thought of all the dangers. It's good propaganda. Makes us seem daring and brave, when really it's essentially staged, or at least close to it." The Lieutenant's frown warmed, and he nodded.
"You might be a ballsy son of a gun, but at least you're not idiotic. Thank god for that." He let out a soft chuckle. "Thank god for that."
-xxx-
After our recent successes, much of North America, at least the parts outside of the ADVENT metropoli, were in semi-open revolt. That, plus our recent victories, had all of us in a celebratory mood, so when the 6-month anniversary of the Avenger's first flight came upon us, we decided to throw a bit of a party. The Avenger had precious little space to host any sort of event, so we set up a bit of a buffet outside. One of the finer inventions of the aliens was certainly effective anti-insect fields, and so we would be enjoying our food without the infestations of mid-summer Canada.
I grabbed a seat with Sahara, Vivian, and Jack, after grabbing a large portion of freshly grilled lamb, with some steaming mashed potatoes alongside it. It had been a while since I had any real meat, it being rather rare after ADVENT's crackdown on certain old-world lifestyles. Still, ADVENT kept some farms around to make luxury foodstuffs for their most important citizens, and after our supply raids it was certainly the fruits of our labours.
"So, Connor, what did you think of your first mission on Menace-1?"
"Shocking, to be honest. Y'all are true professionals, I can tell. Are all of you old XCOM, like, from the original pre-war days?"
Saraha piped up. "Riley and I aren't, but we got some lessons from the Skirmishers. I'll just say that being around them might as well be the equivalent of boot camp."
"Neither is Karl." Jack chimed in. "Though if I recall correctly he was German something-or-other before the invasion. Don't have any clue what though, I can't speak a lick of the language."
Vivian piped up, turning to Jack. "And what were you doing pre-XCOM? If you'll pardon my bluntness."
"Analyzed chemical weapons after university for the military. Then I got poached by the XCOM project as a chemical weapons specialist, but they didn't end up needing me so they put me on security detail for whatever concoctions would come out of the science lab. Guess they thought that I would have a better chance of fixing it." He grinned. "Though I doubt a rifle fixes many things that try to kill you unless they're alive. And even then."
"Tell me more about the pre-invasion world. I've always been curious, I remember absolutely nothing from it. I guess I was 3 when it happened, but still." I said.
"Well, it was nicer. In some ways, I guess, though I can't say much about what life in the city's like. Never went. But from what I've seen and heard, ADVENT may have the better tech, but they still got some of the same issues. Poverty, violence, addiction, it's all still there. And they've added in a healthy dose of authoritarianism to the mix on top of it all."
"And the culture? To be honest, that's what I'm most interested in."
"It was weird. We were just getting used to the internet, if you know what that was, and nobody really had a good handle on what was popular with everyone. Our music was half-depressed, half-cocaine-high, the shows were violent and gritty, and so were the movies. I suppose that in hindsight if we'd known what would have happened we might have wanted to make some happier stuff." He chuckled.
Sahara turned to Vivian. " So what's your deal? No offense, but you look old as dirt. And yet you're still more capable than some of the twenty-somethings playing soldier whenever we need them to blow up the patrol vehicles."
"None taken. Constantly working in a field where you're getting shot at will do wonders for aging gracefully, as long as you're willing to take a couple scars and a good chance of death. Though I have to say, the alien anti-aging medicines don't hurt a bit for it."
"I can't take those, unfortunately. Or at least, I don't know what'll happen if I do, and I certainly don't want that coming back to bite me."
"Ah, right. Cat bones, and those calcium density things probably aren't the best. How's it feel, at least, in relation to whatever you had before?"
"I'll be honest, I don't remember much from before I changed. Vague bits of how I got there, voluntary if I recall. But no memories, just information, if that makes sense. A couple of glimpses from being suspended in a tube, before I changed. Obviously, the weightlessness makes it difficult to say, but I guess it's lighter? Nimbler? Of course, my bones are awful, but they heal at a strangely rapid speed."
"So is that why you took up the sword?"
"Partly. Lt. Luo was the one who suggested it to me, but I just thought it was cool. You have to understand, my mental state for the first couple years was that of a child, and it took a while for me to recover my bearings. It was weird, because I had the thinking capacity of anyone else, but I just didn't have the experience, I guess. Having to relearn everything that you thought you would just know, or people expected you to know. It's humbling, and it's embarrassing, and you feel like an idiot for so long. It's probably part of why I tried so hard to impress everyone. To prove that I wasn't just a child in an adult's body, and that I was just as capable and dependable as anyone else. Well, I suppose I did in the end, and all the better for it. It let me mold myself into who I wanted to be, consciously and purposefully."
We sat there in the quiet for a bit, enjoying our food and mulling over the words Sahara had said. It was an interesting thing to say. To relearn and rebuild yourself from scratch, but this time with an idea of where you want to go. I pondered it in the context of what would happen after the war. How we would be rebuilding our society, with everything left behind. What we would do with it.
"Here's a question." I suddenly said. "What was the original thing that made you decide that it was worth it to fight for humanity?"
Jack spoke first. "They tried to kill us. I've been holding a grudge ever since."
"If they'd never attacked, I would still know who I used to be, for better or worse. But they forced us to make monsters out of ourselves." Said Sahara.
"The aliens broke the society that I lived to protect. The institutions, systems, and ways that we valued. And I'm fighting to bring those back." Said Vivian.
I nodded. "Me? I'm fighting because I think it's always going to be the right thing to do to try and make the world better, no matter what it costs for me. Even if it costs my life."