Chapter 18: Operation Resupply

Adam Clarke had been working a part time to keep himself in coke and pot noddle while he studied for his mechanical systems degree course, fitting his shifts in around his course for about a year now. That was how he found himself working the night shift at a petrol station just outside Cromer in Norfolk, UK. Most people he worked with hated doing nights and it's not hard to see why; lonely, depressing, hazardous to your sleep patterns, a wreck to your social life and increased chance of being on the receiving end of some kid with a kitchen knife and withdrawal symptoms.

Despite it all there were still some benefits; less oversight by management, fewer customers, more relaxed atmosphere and night tended to be when one witnessed the oddities and farfetched tales that got passed down as stories from part-timer to part-timer. Case in point, tonight.

It wasn't every night your business played host to a group of people in armoured suits and openly carrying heavy machine guns, unless you lived in the US. One look told him those were not the usual cosplayers on their way back from a con, despite what it might seem he was sure this was genuine military gear they were carrying.

At first it was just one of them, a woman with flaming red hair and a dark beret bearing an insignia he didn't recognise. The woman patrolled through the store with a strange looking rifle ready in her arms, seemingly searching for anything she might take as a threat. After she completed her sweep, satisfied that there were no lingering threats lying in wait, she motioned for the others to join them inside. Well, except the one in the giant robot suit. They couldn't fit through the door and were limited to shouting their requests through the opening.

"Alright people, let's make this quick" another of the group, a woman with long brunette hair tied in a neat ponytail. "Big Skys waiting and the meters still running. If Central decides to audit the fuel bill for this trip we'll all be stuck in it"

At her command, the group dispersed throughout the store. One moved towards the side of the door, browsing the sunglasses display. Another of the two started perusing the aisles, throwing a seemingly random selection of drinks and sweets into a basket mounted on the turret of a small, treaded robot. All the while the one giving the orders, presumably their leader, kept close to the counter and maintained a watchful vigil over Adam still behind the desk.

Before they arrived, Adam had been checking the news on his phone and had noticed the internet had been buzzing about some strange occurrences happening up in Edinburgh. Some amateur feeds, some including shaky camera phone footage, even claimed to see aliens fighting humans in armoured suits. What were the chances this lot had something to do with it?

Another of the group, a woman with short black hair, came around the edge of the counter with a handheld computer, raising it up to the camera they appeared to be doing something with the wireless network. Seemingly satisfied with their work they glanced at Adam. "Sorry kid, got to make sure we don't leave any evidence behind". In spite of the rather sinister undertone to that remark, and the arsenal of weapons, the group didn't seem to give off any ill intent.

Further down the shop Adam could just make out a conversation between two of the group, an Australian guy with close cropped dark hair and the larger Russian guy with a mop of bright blonde hair.

"Come on Charge, don't get your snickers in a twist" the Australian remarked.

"You know, I really miss the days when they were called Marathon just so people couldn't make that stupid joke" the Russian replied.

"What about these?" the Australian retrieved a packet of Tim Tams. "You ever try them? Let me guess 'We have no need for your decadent western biscuits, in my country we enjoy Russian treats such as snowball and icicles'"

"Why are people so quick to assume Russia is just snow and turnips?" the Russian asked. "We're one of the world's leading economies"

"Well next time we visit Vladivostok I'm sure you'll be able to prove us all wrong" the Australian replied.

"Can we please save this discussion for the three-hour flight back to base" the leader interjected into the conversation.

At their leader's insistence the group picked up the pace. They hefted the basket from the robot onto the counter laden heavy with sweets, biscuits, drinks, luxury toiletries and entertainment magazines.

"Any fuel with that?" Adam asked. He hadn't meant to sound snarky, it was company policy that he had to ask.

"Just this lot" the leader replied.

Adam began diligently passing the items through the scanner. "Would you like a bag with that, its 5p?"

"I think we can handle it" the leader assured him.

Scanning the final item through the till he checked the amount on the screen. "That's £139.14"

"Alright" the leader turned to her assembled team. "How much we got guys?"

The soldiers began searching their belt pouches, each producing a seemingly random collection of foreign coins and notes. "Pesos, Yen, Roubles. Pounds, here you go" the leader handed across £150 in assorted notes. "Keep the change"

As the assembled group started carrying out their purchases the leader continued to linger beside the counter. "One last thing" she leant over the counter, her gaze never faltering from his own. "If anyone asks, your shift was entirely normal. Nothing odd about us at all, right?"

Adam nodded vigorously in reply.

"Good" she reached into her pocket and removed some kind of chit with a symbol like 2 entwined S's, sliding it across the counter towards him. "Make sure you keep this safe, that's going to pay for your tuition someday" with the final word she departed after the rest of her team.

Not what one would call an entirely conventional shift.

XCOM Rule 476: Operatives are forbidden from making unscheduled diversions for snacks or souvenirs during operations.

Next time we see XCOM attempt to order drive-thru chicken in a Firestorm.