Ladies and Gentleman. Boys and Girls.
Welcome back to the unparalleled adventure that is Sword Art On... wait... crap wrong story
XCOM. Yes. Right. Got it.
Welcome back everyone, to the world of Enigma!
I hope everyone is doing well. I know it's been a little while since the last update, so I hope this small offering is enough for now.
Good news though, the planning stage is officially complete, and we are going full steam ahead once more! Meaning potentially more chapters in a hopefully shorter time! Maybe! Hopefully!
Also in other new's , I published a small one shot Called Whispers On The Wind. It's about the death of my highest organically leveled DnD character. So kind of heavy. Read with caution.
Right that should cover everything for now.
Really hope your all doing well, and that life is being good to you.
Also don't forget to Review. I love me some reviews. Love them!
Anyways. Cheers for now.
Alex Lee
Friday, September 18th, 2024
1400 Hours 21 Minutes 45 Seconds
I would love to say that our assault on ADVENT was a hard-fought victory.
That despite heavy losses, we still found the resolve to fight on to the bitter end. Claiming victory from the snapping jaws of defeat, in the same manner our forefathers did, many wars ago.
Tales of how the honorable men and women of XCOM stormed ADVENT bases with guns blazing would be told for generations. Their thunderous war cries a stark reminder to the enemy of why we were to be feared, and why humanity had survived for so long.
But that would be a lie. A big, fat, bold faced lie.
In truth, It wasn't even a fight.
I know this, because for something to be a fight, there has to be strong opposition on the other side. Yet upon practically strolling into the Kazakhstan base, there was none of that to be found.
Most of the enemies we did find were already torn to pieces, courtesy of the thirty millimeter canons that had hit the base mere moments earlier. Anything we did find still standing, was mowed down in similar fashion by a hail of smaller caliber gunfire.
It was so one-sided ABBY barely even made her presence known the entire time.
Sure, one or two of the men took a bad hit from aliens here and there, but in comparison to the massacre that took place on the enemy side, they were token losses at best.
Once the all-clear sign was given, whatever resources the soldiers could find were packed up in short order, and hustled back to the ranger. Meld canisters, alien materials, even the destroyed weaponry we couldn't use. All of it was stripped or taken for future use.
Ace and I then planted the X1 charge as ordered, primed it, and hauled ass back to the ranger for take off. The trip back took significantly less time due to us being fifty pounds lighter than before.
The moment we hit the ramp, the entire mission was radioed as complete, and we took off. A total victory for us not twenty minutes after the operation had commenced.
To say I was ecstatic about this success, would be a vast understatement.
The stunned looks on most of the men around me offered similar insight. The confusion of how utterly ADVENT had been defeated. It was far more than any of us could have ever hoped for.
Twenty men had walked into the skyranger that afternoon. Eighteen had returned. A number so high and far-fetched, that even those who had lost friends or comrades could not seem to find it in themselves to mourn their loss just yet, but choose instead to embrace the hope that came from this resounding success for the time being.
If we were a movie, there is no doubt in my mind that this would be the moment the scene cuts to some massive celebration of our success. One complete with several of us passing out from sheer alcohol consumption, and making fools of ourselves in front of the rest of the base.
Reality however, is nothing like the movies, and all it took was one push of a button to take whatever happiness or excitement we all felt about that day's success, and shatter it to a million tiny pieces.
The resulting explosion that we heard off in the distance was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Much more muffled and bass filled that normal. Mixed in with a long deep tone rather than the normal short sudden clap of conventional explosives.
Several of the other soldiers whooped and cheered as the explosion echoed, riding high off the massive rush of adrenaline and dopamine that this mission had instilled in them. All of them blissfully unaware of the thoughts floating through Ace's or my own head, even as the lights in the ranger's bay began to flicker and spazz out.
Unknown explosive signature. Volume indicates a large shockwave. Tone indicates large area of coverage. Possible airburst type explosive. Light fixture failure indicate electromagnetic interference present. X-one charge, potentially prototype electromagnetic explosive. Check weapon optics to verify.
Quickly looking down my weapon, I was greeted with a completely empty sight picture.
ABBY was spot on as usual. Yet even as the thoughts passed through my head, I knew deep down her answer to be not entirely correct.
"Ace..." I turned to face the older man with a unfamiliar ball of regret now forming in my gut. "What the hell was that?"
He looked older in that moment. More weathered than I remembered him being. Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was the mission, but I could have sworn I saw the smallest hints of regret also forming in his eyes.
"That," he began, heavily dropping down into one of the rangers seats. "Sounded a lot like a low yield nuclear detonation."
Several of the soldiers around me stopped talking as the heavy, almost taboo words that he spoke registered.
"How do you know?"
"Simple." He stated, tossing the now useless detonator to me. "If it was high yield we would be dead by now."
I rolled my eyes, glancing down at the detonator briefly. "Obviously. But how do you know it was nuclear?"
A small shrug was the only answer he gave at first, choosing instead to wait patiently for the other soldiers to get bored and go back to their own activities, before patting the seat beside him.
Placing my weapon on the ground, I took the offered seat; hanging my head down a little so i could hear him better.
"I know that sound because I've heard it before," he muttered quietly, rubbing his eyes with one hand, before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Way back, when this god forsaken war started."
Memories of the news report I had listened to when the first attacks had occured filtered slowly back into my mind. Nuclear options being a topic of considerable discussion at the time.
"You'all probably heard the news on how they fired a few different nuclear missiles at the alien forces, but found them to ineffective." He continued to rub and pinching the bridge of his nose with increasing force. "What you probably didn't hear about was the fact that the aliens had already managed to infiltrate several of the launch silos via psionically controlled personnel, and ended up detonating or redirecting several of the missiles before they impacted the intended targets."
He was correct. I had not heard about that. Though I highly doubted anyone outside of the classified information circle had.
"Not many people talk about it anymore, or hell even seem to remember that it happened at all with everything else since… But mark my words, that fuck up was one of the key events that show cased just how powerful psionics could be in the right hands."
Elevated emotional statues. Potentially classified information. All signs indicate a personal tie to story. Possible survivor of one or more accidental missile redirections or detonations.
"That loss more or less kick started what is now the Psionics division of XCOM. Made fucking monsters out of people like Lock, and more importantly, made us wise to the trickery of our adversary." Slamming his palm against his leg with almost each word. "We survived this longer because of their sacrifice, of that much I am certain."
"Did..." I fidgeted, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands in the face of such a passionate speech. "Did one of those missiles detonate nearby you?"
A small nod was all the confirmation I needed on the subject. Whatever rouge missile he was referring to, it had destroyed something very important to him. Something that made his fight against ADVENT all the more personal.
"The radiation alone makes several miles around the detonation site inhospitable for thousands of years. Just as I will never be able to ever go home, we will never be able to go back to that base in our lifetime."
Home. Such a foreign concept to me, after having almost all memories of my own home erased. One could say XCOM and the squad had become what one could consider a family, or a home, but to hear Ace talk about losing his... The heart wrenching ache that seeped into his voice as he no doubt reliving his days before the war. It made me want me remember my own, if only to sympathize more with his loss.
I shook my head as the reality of what we had just done finally began to register. The sheer amount of destruction, charnage we had just wrought on the world finally being made perfectly, painfully clear.
And yet even as those thoughts echoed through my mind, ABBY was busy reminding me of an even more disturbing fact.
"The other teams have the same charge as us…"
Ace nodded along side me. "This was more than just about sending a message. More than just a show of force."
"It's a fucking declaration of war."
Even amidst the loud soldiers around us, those words struck me to the core.
I still sometimes wake up and wonder, what in god's name had we just done….
"To the newest member of the family! Claymore!"
Even as all the glasses were raised in my honor, I couldn't help but smile and cheer alongside everyone else. The somber events of the day, long since forgotten amidst the drinking and celebrating that had since taking place.
Truthfully I was well past the point of being able to think coherently at all. The vast number of drinks in my system due to Lock being late, plus the toast to my successfully joining of Lockdown, all playing a part in making me no doubt look like a red faced fool.
Yes, sadly not everyone had made it home unscathed like myself and Ace.
Lock had dislocated her arm, and Holly was sporting a nice series of stitches over her eye. Nothing that a long night of drinking, and a good night's rest wouldn't fix, and nothing even remotely as hardcore as our previous encounter with the aliens, but still enough to make them late. Something which as promised, Ace punished me for immensely.
Many other soldiers and XCOM personnel had joined us in our small christening affair, complimenting us on the victory over ADVENT, and of every single squad member making it back home in one piece, before inevitably joining us for a drink or two.
Slowly, but steadily turned a small, seemingly innocent drinking session, into a rather impressively sized party.
Soon enough the lights got turned low, and music was blasted out of someones boom box. An impromptu dance floor quickly opening up beside the bar, allowing men and woman, drunk and sober alike, to go make fools of themselves.
I watched many of the dance partners leave hand in hand. Rushing out of the room like horny teenages on prom night. Ready to get frisky with who ever their chosen partner. Not that anyone really cared to much.
Not when this may well be the last party that XCOM ever saw.
Downing the last of my cups contents to the sound of cheers, I would have been content to sit back down in my seat next to Lock, and listen to the plethora of stories my comrades in arms were sharing with one another.
Would have been, if someone didn't have other ideas.
"More rum?" Lock asked innocently, a bottle and mix in her hands ready for use.
Laughing, I shook my head in response. "Maybe in a minute or two."
"Awwwwh." She teased, dropping the items back on the table with a series of loud thunks. "Is the new recruit having trouble keeping up with the woman?"
Hoots and choruses of laughter followed suit, as more and more of the squad picked up on Locks teasing.
"Yah come on Claymore!" Psycho seemed to yell, his cybernetic arms banging the table with inhuman strength. "Bottoms up!"
A series of teases and taunts that would have under normal circumstance, been brushed aside, echoed out. The booze imbued words hitting their marks well, and wounding my pride as a former functional alcoholic.
As a man, I could simply not let such a challenge slide. It was unacceptable to say the least.
"Alright, Fine." I growled. A feral smile breakout across my face. "You wanna go? Let's go shot for shot then."
Several stunned faces stared back at me as my words registered.
"Owh shit!" Holly shouted, slinging an arm around Lock as she stumbled forwards. "The Newby's got some balls!"
"Don't mistake foolishness for bravery Holly," She chuckled back. "He has no idea the mistake he's just made."
Locking eyes with my competitor, I felt the ice cold edges of her gaze sharpen to a razor point. Clearly she was not about to go down without a fight.
Fine by me. I had no plans to back down either.
The table was cleared off in record time, leaving only two chairs, two shot glasses, and a bottle of rum as it's contents.
Taking my seat, and continued to stare down my commanding officer, I reached out and poured the first round of drinks.
"One." I stated, knocking back the amber liquid with zero hesitation.
"Two." Lock smirked right back, refilling and downing her own glass instantly.
Back and forth we went; trading shots equally, as slowly our table was surrounded by more and more people.
Soon enough bets were being made, and the crowd was counting alongside us.
I jokingly stated one of my shots was for my first destroyed pair of socks.
Lock replying in kind that hers was for the death of her first sports bra.
The crowd hooting and laughing along with us only egging us on towards potentially lethal amounts of alcohol.
Before long, we had reached double digits, with Lock showing no signs of stopping. The cheering and shouting of the crowd around us faded into the background as we poured another round.
As with all things Lock barely looked phased. Her posture was still immaculate despite the mind numbing amounts of booze we had consumed. Her movements were still just as quick as when we had started.
Whether it was an elaborate act or not was was beyond me at this point, as unfortunately, I was nearly at my limit. To much more of this game and I would easily be down for the count.
Of course my stubborn pride would not let me give up without a fight though. Not without at least putting in a last ditch effort.
Realistically, I knew I couldn't beat her straight up. Hell, I had yet to beat her in anything, least of all drinking. No, I would have to go for something underhanded in order to win. Something sneaky. Something that would catch her off guard...
"To all the sexy ladies." I smirked, winking at her as she quickly downed her own shot.
Bingo.
A series of small coughs, mixed with a spray of alcohol erupting from her as my words and action no doubt registered.
The alcohol she was drinking no doubt going down the wrong hatch. The burning sensation, mixed with the sudden spitting of liquid, hopefully enough to make her quit.
Sadly however, her tush never left the seat.
To my dismay and growing amusement, she somehow remained rooted, and after cleaning up a little, simply poured another shot, and downing that one instead.
"You asshole!" She coughed out having finished it. A vicious smirk on her face showing me exactly how much malice she felt towards me in that moment. "That's fucking eleven!"
"All is fair in love and war, darling." I joked, downing my own shot with only another moment's hesitation.
Rolling her eyes at me, she poured the remnant of the bottle into our two glasses.
"Suppose it's almost ironic in a way…" she muttered so quietly, I doubted anyone but me heard it.
A flash of sadness amidst her smirks and smile caught my attention as she raised her number twelve shot.
"To those we have lost." She stated, downing the alcohol in a practiced flourish. "And those yet to join them."
The shift in her mood was so sudden, and so drastic, that it slapped me across the face with enough force to make me feel sober.
I damn well forgot about the drinking game altogether, and much to the shock of everyone present, stood up.
"Claymore has forfeited! The winner of this match, and still reigning champion, is Lockdown!"
The sudden yell, accompanied by a series of cheers and hollers was all but lost amongst the maelstrom of emotions that abruptly tore through me.
It was right about then that my body suddenly remembered it had enough alcohol in it to open up a small bar, and a wave of dizziness slammed into me; shaking me off-balance, causing me to stumble forwards.
Two sets of strong arms shot out, catching me just before I hit the floor.
"You alright there Clay?"
Turning towards Ace, I could see a small amount of worry mixed in with his usually stoic expression.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I blinked heavily a few times, the alcohol having now taken full effect. "I think I might just call it though..."
A round of chuckles seemed to emanate from everyone as I staggered back to my feet with their help.
"I think you're right about that," he chuckled, leaving me to lean fully on the other person who had caught me. "Best the both of you head back to your rooms then."
"Thanks man." I waved, stumbling towards the door with the help of my crutch. "Niiiiight!"
A melody of laughter and goodbyes echoed out as we nearly colliding with the bars doors, staggering quickly out of the room and into the cool, quiet hallways of the base.
"Well, I'll give you credit," my crutch muttered. "You certainly didn't go down without a fight."
Glancing over, I was greeted with a head of white hair, and a bemused expression.
"Oh, hey there Lock…" I smiled back. "You seem lot happier now that you won."
"I am," she nodded back, a small smile emerging as we stumble forwards. "Just don't get use to it."
"Do ya wanna talk aboot it?" I asked, chuckling at the old Canadian slang.
"Not right now, but thank you," she smiled back. "Rest however, will no doubt do us both some good."
I could only nod in agreement as the winding hallways seemed to shift beneath my feet.
Progress was admittedly slow, but eventually we did make it back to my room; idle chatter and joking intermittently breaking up our long slog back home.
The door to my room being unceremoniously kicked in, as we both ditched our shoes and collapsed onto the bed.
Clearly the alcohol had affected her in some manner too.
Rolling off the bed, I grabbed my bag and began stuffing a few shirts and soft things into it.
A small, calloused hand grabbed mine as I tried to zip it shut.
"What are you doing?"
Glancing up at Locks confused face, I chuckled at how cute she looked while tired.
"I'm making a pillow so you can take the bed."
Finally finding the zipper, I closed the duffle and fluffed it a few times to get it comfortable. The same hand from before grabbing mine once again before I could lay down on the floor.
"You're an idiot." She stated, pulling harder on my hand. "The bed's big enough for us both."
Confused, I let her guide me back onto the bed and watched as my large frame easily took up well over half of the damn thing.
I was even more confused when instead of moving to the other side, she simply flopped down on top of me. Curling into my side, with her head using my shoulder as a pillow.
The sudden warmth of her body seeping into mine despite the clothing between us.
"You sure this is alright?" I breathed, my eyes halfway closed already despite the unusual arrangement.
Instead of an answer, she simply snuggle in even close to me.
"Night Drew."
….
"Goodnight Abby."
