X-COM Season 2 - Journals

[ShadowlessWanderer]

Personal History Audio Log 1
Name: William Davin

Fuck it. If I'm one of the ones that end up dead (there will be deaths. Its to be expected. I don't want to discourage anyone, but seriously. You are delusional if you think nobody's gonna die.) I want these logs to be released to someone. I honestly don't really care who ends up with them, I just want the story to get out there.

When I was growing up, I lived on the coast. Sun, sand and sea. My father was a fisherman, and my mother worked for a restaurant as a cook. She ran the bar a couple times on slow nights too.
My weekly schedule consisted of going to school, riding my bike to the restaurant, waiting for my father to come back from fishing and go home, eat dinner spend a little time talking about my day and off to bed. Rinse and repeat. Week ends weren't really different. Go play in the yard, do your chores, the usual child things. I never really had too many friends. it's not that I didn't want them, its just I never really knew how to start a conversation. I've always been content with staying in the background, just another face in the crowd. I really think it all changed after I got out of elementary school when I was 9. That moment will always haunt me. *wipes forehead and waits for almost 3 minutes before continuing* I remember being assaulted by two high-school students on my way to the bike rack after school. I was never much of a fighter so I got my ass handed to me. Broken arm, black eye, cracked ribs, I mean I got my ass handed to me. Somewhere in there I guess I just kinda snapped. I don't really remember much about what I did, but the next thing I know I'm holding a rock that's covered in blood, one of them is on the ground with his head split open and the other one is just staring at me in horror before running off. I....*breathes deeply*..I killed someone. But what really scares me more than anything is the knowledge that somewhere deep down, I enjoyed it. There's blood on my hands and it can never be washed off. Thing like that isn't easy to lug around. Everyone assured me it was self defense, but I'm still not sure. I promised myself that day I wouldn't harm another living thing if I could help it. Got into college, taught medical school for a bit, volunteered at the local shelters, and then met my late wife, Kristina as I was taking a break at the public library. Hell of a woman. Quiet, but willing to speak her mind when she wanted. Smart but had an amazing imagination. I don't know how many nights we spent just telling stories and discussing our thoughts on just about anything. Soft brown hair, beautiful sea-green eyes that you could just get lost in for ages. *A few minutes pass in silence* I......I'm gonna finish this later on. I.....I need a drink.
*The sound of a chair scraping the floor and footsteps are heard*
-Audio Log auto end initiated-

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

Name: Ayame Kasagi
Rank: Trainee

Historical Account #1:

As I face the possible end of my shinda jinsei for the first time in centuries, I can't help but feel that it would be a waste if I passed without accounting my pas (that was kinda redundant). I don't think I deserve a book or anything, but with no real legacy to pass on, my stories are all I have.

My first tale, I suppose, should start during my childhood, before I found myself in my current state. Thanks to a rather talented man I met ages ago Bangladesh, I know a special Dhyāna that allows me to recover even these early memories.

I was born to a poor farmer and his poor wife in the poorest part of China. They met when my father fled Japan after he racked up too much debt gambling for him to handle, and my mother found him, half dead from starvation. She saw good in him where others did not, and begged her father to take him in. He proved to be a devoted worker and a loving man, and my grandfather gave my father his blessing to marry his only daughter.

I was the youngest of five children. Such large families were common back then, as help was needed on the farm, and child mortality rates were high. If anything, our family was small. The harvests weren't the best, and my father often had difficulties with dealers not wanting to trade with a foreigner, but we got by. I helped as much as I could, though I was never pushed, and my sister, who was six years my senior, always tried to do my work for me, much to my protest.

My father was so loving. The opinion of women was quite low back then, especially in both Chinese and Japanese society, and it was not uncommon for a man to treat his wife like little more then an object. My father? He cherished the ground my mother walked on, and treated my sister and I as good as he treated my brothers. They would have their fights, of course, what married couple doesn't, but they would always make up, and he never raised his hand to her.

My mother had a smile that could turn the darkest soul pure. I remember when I would hurt myself playing, or when my brothers would push me around, she would hold me in her arms, stroke my hair, and tell me everything would be okay. She would then sing to me in that beautiful voice of hers. I would sit there, wrapped in her loving embrace, lost in paradise. My brothers said she spoiled me, and they were probably right.

Naturally, I got along the best with my sister, Guì yīng (obviously, she had a traditional Chinese name while is was given a Japanese name). She spoiled me almost as much as my mother, and I loved her for it. We would spend almost all the time we had off from farm work together, gathering flowers, playing with our straw dolls (simple by today's standards, but I loved them), and singing the various songs we learned from mother.

It was the best childhood one could ask for. In a way, I wish it hadn't been, because that only made it harder when it was over, a mere seven years into my life.

 

[Frostlich1228]

Forgive me for copying, but this is too clever of an idea for passing time with our four hour restriction, I can't help but try it myself.

[Go Ahead ]

 

[svenska]

Later, someone named Svenska. We bumped into each other, but she kept walking. I got a quick glance at her, though. I've seen those eyes before. She's definitely been put through the wringer

Uh i'm a guy... but dont worry i've been mistaken for a woman many times so i'm used to it... it's probably because i look so good from the back.

 

[Gahlo]

Name: Rick Warren
Current Rank: Rook
NCL#2

Location: Gym

The treadmill's motor churns at it lowers the elevation and the band slow down, cycling through its interval. Green eyes watch through the glass panes over the billiards , though his mind is far from the leisurely activities below.(1) His earphones chatter on with their recording, inaudible to those around him...

"Good, you've made it into the clinic. Be thorough but ready to move at a moments notice. You've got some distance but the drone is picking up a herd nearby. Remember, we need penicillin, gauze, and all the hydrogen-peroxide you can safely carry. You're better to everybody alive and with a light load than full to the brim and dead."

A few minutes go by, spent at a light jog, doing mundane task like wiping sweat off of his face and taking a swig of water. The motor revs up as both the pace and incline slowly increases.

"They're onto you, get out! Take a right onto Valley, they're closing to 50 meters...40 meters. Take the under pass to the other side of the tracks at the train station. 30 meters and closing... 25, 20. Get the hell out of there!"

By now Rick is on running at an all out sprint.

---------------------------------------------------
OOC Section:
A decent time to jump in and socialize with him if you so desire. I come from a co-op fanfic background, so I'd be more than happy to work with somebody on a tandem followup.

(1) I like to think the gym cuts off and overlooks the billiards area. It gives the people on the treadmills something to look at and makes it feel more organic than the "ant-farm" design aspect the game has for the HQ.

 

[BMPixy]

Hello! Welcome to the Famicom Audio Log Recorder Log Database (UNPF)! What would you like to do?
>Load log.
What is the log date?
>2015-02-17
Loading log now!

Name: Richard Foulke
Current Rank: Lance Corporal
Mission Name: N/A
Mission Objective: Investigate area for insurgent activity.
Status: Phys. Healthy? / Psych. ?????
Journal Entry:

--February 17th, 2015--

Dead. They’re all dead. Grabovsky. Amir. Dae-Hyun. No. No. Not all dead. Taken. Some. Unlucky not to receive death. Gonna cut them up. Pull out their entrails, feed on them, gonna destroy us all. Four days have passed. They did not see me. Have not seen me. Will not see me. Memories, foggy. Feel like observer, not participator. Base approaches. Oh thank a deity.

'UN Peacekeeping forces, put your hands in the air!'

Yes! Yes, whatever you say! Anything....

'Hurensohn! Foulke, is that you? What the hell happened!?'

They came...from above. They’re all dead. Or worse. No hope.

'Hey, you lazy bastards, get me a medic, we got a survivor from the patrol! Alright Foulke, just keep calm, you're gonna be alright.'

They have cast their eyes upon us! Our lives are forfeit, they will take everything! We cannot hide!

'Jesus Christ, Foulke, calm down. Hey, over here! Get him to the medbay!'

No! You cannot fight them! Death is certain!

'Gonna give him some tranqs to calm him down.'

'Alright. Whatever you need to do.'

--One hour auto deactivation.--

 

[ChristopherOdd]

_________________________
PAUSE
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Quick idea I'd like for all of you to implement. Can you link to your BIO PAGE in your signatures? That way, when reading the journals, people can go to your bio page quickly and easily to learn about your back story. THANKS!


_________________________
UNPAUSE
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[Grelite]

_________________________
PAUSE
_________________________

Quick idea I'd like for all of you to implement. Can you link to your BIO PAGE in your signatures? That way, when reading the journals, people can go to your bio page quickly and easily to learn about your back story. THANKS!


_________________________
UNPAUSE
_________________________

The link to your bio can be found by going to the post in question and clicking on the date and time at the bottom of the post.
Example: My Season 1 Bio

 

[svenska]

May 27, 2013

Look! it's my bio!

 

[ChristopherOdd]

May 27, 2013

Look! it's my bio!

Great, just paste that into your forum signature please

 

[ChristopherOdd]

Name: Christopher Odd
Rank: Commander

Journal Entry #1:

This morning I met with Parker again. I've resisted his advice long enough. I can't imagine this helping, but what else am I going to do? It's not like I'm going to fraternize with the troops. I've been doing this long enough to know that they will come and go, and emotional attachment will only make it more difficult. They are my soldiers. Nothing more, nothing less.

Parker disagrees though, and told me that it's probably a good idea to make some friends. I rather enjoy my alone time. What's so hard to understand about that? Sure there's Vahlen and Shen, but I can only handle them in small increments. I wonder if I start ignoring their comm blasts while I'm on the field if they'll take the hint?

I was hesitant at first, but it turns out that it was a great idea to bring some books with me. The paper kind. There's nothing like the feel of a book. The musty smell, the texture of the pages, the familiar motion of licking your index finger to turn a page, always from the top right corner... I never want to forget what things were like not long ago. When this team was assembled and the Council reached out to me, I was honoured, but I felt anxious more than anything. The feeling that overdosing on caffeine gives you is starting to become second nature for me. And I don't drink coffee. They told me I had 15 minutes to gather my things and bring whatever I wanted that would fit into the black metal trunk they provided to me. Now, as I look at it in the corner of my room, I've realized that I've used a physical lock to store away memories of what I left behind. Perhaps this is what Parker is referring to when he says I should stop harboring things that remind me of home. When I accepted this role, I've acknowledged that there is no more home.

I don't see how this is helping. It's just making me feel worse. Sure, on the battlefield I can pull myself together, and the recruits are none the wiser, but I really need to pour myself into these books if I have a hope of surviving it mentally out here. I have developed another hobby though. I like to watch the recruits parade around the base between missions. I have eyes and ears everywhere. It's almost like those reality shows back home. I expressed my thoughts about Scruffson's son being a potential distraction for him, but it seems that he's keeping it together. As the senior officer on the field, he will most likely be my go to soldier, if I do require some additional contact with the front line. They look like ants out there, running around aimlessly, not a care in the world and with the weight of the world on their soldiers, albeit, without a queen to serve. I suppose I fit that purpose, but most of these soldiers seem to be here for their own personal reasons too. As long as that doesn't interfere with the mission, more power to them.

Something I want to get off my chest is that I KNOW some of the recruits are not following the contraband rules. Do they not get it? They need to be in top physical form out here. The diet provided by the nutritionist is supposed to be followed to the letter. Everyone has an individualized meal plan, and I expect it to be followed. Alcohol, although not forbidden, is only to be consumed post mission, if at all. There was some type of party that occurred before our first mission, and from what I can tell, some poor choices were made. That better not happen again. I know that these recruits are young, and green, but they have talent, and I do not want them wasting it by drinking themselves into a dark hole of forgetfulness and shame. The alcohol isn't even the worst part. As I was doing a post mission review of the RAVEN-I, I could see that she had taken a bit of damage. But what angered me most was the wrapper I found. Covered in mud and stuck on the bottom of the cargo door. A Milky Way wrapper. Who the hell is sneaking this filth onto my ship? I may have to start questioning more. It just pisses me off that people can't follow rules. NO unauthorized foods on the ship. Someone must have snuck it in here. And why the hell are they eating on the battlefield? I guess it's less likely to get caught that way. I'll get to the bottom of this. My guess is that Nukey guy. I ran into him in the bathroom after the last mission and he didn't even look me in the eye. Maybe it's just because I didn't bring along last time, but whining about it won't help his cause. Or maybe he knows I found his Milky Way wrapper... who knows. I'll be watching...

At the end of my session this morning, Parker mentioned that he would like to prescribe some medication for Andrews but apparently the request was denied by Medvedev. I want Parker to have the clearance he needs in order to prescribe what is necessary and do his job correctly. After speaking with Medvedev, he reluctantly agreed to order whatever Parker needed, so it shouldn't be a problem in the future. I can't believe I have to step in on this stuff. These people are doctors, you'd think their fancy PhD's could afford them some common ground to start a friendship on. But who am I to judge?


Maybe Parker was right. This helped. It appears I have more on my mind than I thought.

 

[Meaningofbread]

Name: Aribeth Dusk

Status: Wounded

Non-combat log 07:

Log format: Audio

(Hour 2 of 4)

(sigh)

This log is going to be depressing isn't it? I can tell already.

Every second I lay here, I feel closer and closer to my inevitable death. I got lucky that time. Will it hit me square in the face? How will I go? How will people react?

(sigh)

All right. Enough depressing bullcrap for now.

It seems that XCOM is getting crowded as ever. I can hear people coming and going. In. Out. Back. Forth. Wherever they need to be.

I think I heard the CO walk by the med-bay a little while ago. He was mumbling something about the Milky Way. Are there other planets in the same situation as us? Or are we the last holdout left? What does he know that we don't?

Anyways, I think I'll grab my crutches and take a walk. Try to meet some new people.

Where's my medallion?

(sounds of personal belongings being scooped aside)

Ah! Here it is.

As always, Aribeth out.

 

[ZombieSlayer85]

Name: Joseph Andrews
Rank:Trainee

Written Log #11
98 minutes after Operation Devil's King

After talking to the base shrink, I am relieved he didn't take me right off the active list. He said I have OCD and depression, which I could have told him. He did show great concern, and said that I need major medication. Higher ups were blocking him, though, so he just gave me something for my sleep and said he'd talk to Commander Odd about getting me some better stuff. I said I was worried that it might interfere with focus on the battlefield, but he assured me that it could only help. Whatever. All I care about is that he said he'd make sure I get to talk to Jessica more often, maybe even within the next few hours.

He did make me set another appointment for a few days from now. He'll probably want me to go into more detail about my past. Maybe if I write some of it here, things will go more smoothly.

Well, I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. My father left us when I was a baby, and my brothers' father died when I was pretty young, so I never had a strong male role-model as a child. My mother was strict, demanding As and Bs in school, never shy to grab the belt when we were out of line, and boy, did she like to lecture. She was strict, but fair, always there when we really needed her. She worked hard to raise us by herself, and she somehow managed to spoil us despite what little money we had. She sacrificed everything for us.

Home life was good, but school was a nightmare. Truly, the great grades I had came not only from my Mother pushing me, but because my lack of friends meant I had plenty of time to study. I remember that, in second grade, I enjoyed a brief moment of popularity when I befriended the most popular kid in class. Unfortunately, he was also the class' biggest bully, and I fell in line behind him. Then one day, after bullying a classmate on the playground, we went our separate ways, and I rested against the wall. I just happened to see our victim talking to one of the attendants, crying hysterically. Upon seeing the sadness I brought to that poor girl, I felt like the scum of the Earth, and I vowed to never act that way again.

Of course, my choice to never victimize again turned me into the victim for the rest of my childhood. It got worse every year, and they targeted everything; my looks, my cloths, how poor I was, my glasses, and in the later years, the bullying became racially motivated (I was one of the few Caucasians in my school). I never let it sway my resolve, though. I never let the bullies turn me into a bully, and I never let the racists turn me into a racist. I centered my life around the Golden Rule: always treat others the way you want them to treat you. Empathy was my primary guide through life.

Of course, my high morals did little for my depression. I contemplated suicide on more then one occasion. No one at school would miss me, and though my Mother would grieve my loss, at least it would be one last mouth she had to feed.

Then Jessica was born. My Mother's relationship with her abusive, alcoholic father only lasted about 16 months. It ended the day I cracked and stood up for my mother, knowing I didn't stand a chance. My mother was always willing to take the abuse and cover her bruises with makeup, all for the sake of his financial support, but the moment he put his hands on one of her children was the day she called the cops. The only good thing we got out of him was Jessica, but I'd take a hundred of his beatings in exchange for her birth.

I was already fourteen when Jessica was born, but that didn't stop me from forming a bond with her. I never got very close to my brothers, but it came so naturally with her, despite our age difference. My Mother's two to three jobs left me in charge of raising her for the most part, and while it may seem odd to others, I always saw her as my own daughter. She was the sweetest child you'd ever meet, and I will challenge anyone who says otherwise.

Unfortunately, her father left a lasting impression on her, so to speak. His abuse of my mother while she was pregnant led to many health problems for Jessica, starting with a premature birth she almost didn't survive. She gets sick all the time, and was slow to develop mentally. To this day, her health has to be monitored closely, and she has short-term memory problems. She especially has issues with remembering names. She also has a bit of a stuttering problem, though she has worked hard to get rid of it, and it usually only comes to surface when she's upset. But for every flaw she has, I only love her that much more. She's the reason I'm here. The world be damned for all I care, the only reason I'm here is to protect her, my one true reason for going on.

After I graduat I just received a message that I can contact Jessica soon. I suppose I'll work on the rest of my back story later.

 

[Frostlich1228]

Name: Anna Stone
Status: Happy (That I am Able to get off my ass and do something)

Low Priority Mission Journal 1 :

Well I am on my way back from My first low priority mission, optional, easy to do things that the recruits can do other than sit at base all day, I left as soon as I felt better from what I did with Ayame, I just couldn't be in that room with that painting anymore, me and Ayame talked a little on the way to see if Aribeth was ok, telling me that when she looked at the painting she saw Artur (The man who has betrayed her a long time ago), this painting is just so bizarre, perhaps I should try and get Commander Odd to look at it and see if he can try to explain what is happening to all of us (More than likely though he will just direct me to the psych ward of the med-bay).

Aribeth had just finished one of her journals and was drifting between a state of Extreme Pain and a state of Drug Drunkenness (Where she could barely form a coherent sentence and slurred most of her words, I don't think she could actually tell she was slurring her words so bad though) so me, Ayame and her, all had a bit of a discussion (sort of lost what it was about half way through, with the word slurring and such)

After that they called all rookies in training to a meeting talking about the Low Priority Missions and if anyone would like to do some to pass the time, not a lot of takers honestly, the people who did say they wanted to (I was one of those people) were each sent on little missions to the sites of abductions with some of the faculty (The Scientists mostly) to go and collect rock samples from the ground at sites where people had reportedly been seen getting abducted (because going there and stopping the abduction while its happening is considered a High Priority Mission), I was out there with my assault rifle at the ready making sure the Scientists did not get jumped by something unpleasant (Good thing that did not end up happening) they got their rocks and we are heading back now.

I Heard that more abductions are taking place and Commander Odd is sending some guys to go and do that but that is the extent of my knowledge, going to have to find out who he sent and so forth when this thing finally lands back at base.

*End of Recording*

 

[Eekthebear]

Name: Tyler Prohaska
Status: Preparing
Time: an hour after Operation Devil King

After running around to talk to some of the team members(found Joseph but not Ayame or Anna) I went to the gym. I realized that this is the first time since my family died that I have sat down to think about the past. Not the fluffy, sappy past with Anna but my past...I spent most of my application bio talking about my family dying but not about who I am. I ..... am very bad at this, because it is hard for me to sit down and think about the times before the Prohaska family opened their arms and took me in. It was always easy to call Jon Prohaska and his wife Virginia my parents. It was easy to not tell anyone about the times away from the small town of Hiawatha, where you could see the stars at night with no city lights or smog. This journal is the first time I can just be me without fear of being judged or pitied which is worse than others blind judgement.

My real name is Tyler Regier, my mother was the Prohaska's daughter ...... who aganist their wishes had run off to Fresno, California to marry my father. What little I remember of my father is his temper and the sobs of my mother through the thin walls of our little apartment.......and the sounds of his hands hitting her. He got bored and left when I was about 6, my mother said he went to find something better than a "broken down ho with her little runt". I wish I could say that my mother went the straight and arrow became a hard working lady who took care of me ........ but this isn't a fairy tale and real life is terrifyingly evil at times. My mother took to turning tricks with most of the bangers who lived around the apartment complex and in the other neighborhoods. She always told me to go hide in my closet when she was "doing work" and close my eyes so the angels could protect me. One night as I huddled in that closet I heard her gasping and choking as a man's voice screamed "TAKE YOUR MEDICINE WHORE". After what seemed like days I crawled out of the closet to see what had happened to her, and found her with the bed sheets wrapped around her neck ....... a needle still stuck in her arm. I wanted to cry but couldn't, I just sat there and looked at her in that sheet, her eyes staring at the ceiling ....looking for the angels.

Thankfully rent was due that next day or who knows what would have happened to me. The manager came banging at the door and then opened it when she didn't hear any answer thinking my mom had skipped out to avoid her. Her screams when she saw me sitting on the bed next to my mother, holding her hand with tears drying on my face were something that sometimes I can still hear. The Prohaska;s were contacted and they flew out the next day to come and try to get me to come home with them. To their credit they did just that staying for months as the red tape was worked through by the civil services people. I was offically adopted by my grandparents making me their son, now this is where the story gets good I guess. When we arrived to their home in Hiawatha I finally had my own bed and peace. But somethng happened to me that day in the small, dirty apartment when I held the hand of my dead mother.

I walked around feeling dead all the time, like something was turned off inside of me. I liked my new parents, I liked being taught by Jon how to hunt/fish, being taught by Virginia how to cook and read. But at the same time it wasn't the same and I knew it. Wrestling and football gave me the outlet to be horribly violent without getting in trouble which I relished. I felt better with Anna because then I could actually feel something. I am sure that if the Commander or anyone else found out I would be subjected to tons of tests and be asked a good amoutn of questions while sitting on a slightly uncomfortable couch. But they loved me so much it hurt it seemed, Jon said his proudest moment was watching me win the state wrestling tournament my junior and senior year. With Virginia saying she cried for hours after I called to tell them I had propsed to Anna on a trip to Plaza in downtown Kansas City.

I miss them because they made me feel safe and with Anna I felt alive for the first time since I had huddled alone in my closet with my eyes closed praying for angels that didn't come. But now once again I am all alone, trapped in a small corner of my mind with my eyes closed ....waiting for the angels to come

END

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

Name: Ayame Kasagi
Rank: Trainee
Status: Hang, wait, how do you say it, hangin' in there?

Audio Log, Post Devil's King:

I'm on route to XCOM HQ after investigating an abduction site in Argentina. These jets are impressively fast, but even they take a while to cover the 36000 km round trip. I was hoping to get a mission with Anna, maybe compare some tips with one another while actually on the field. After all, now that she knows my secrets, I don't have to hide my unusual amount of experience, and I'm still looking for someone to give me some pointers with these firearms; give me a kusari-gama, a katana, a gao jie bien, hell, even a tetsubo (not that I'd get away with using it in public), and I will, how do the Americans put it, appu tare o dainashi ni, but when it comes to modern day guns, I'm as green as they come.

Alas, there were surprisingly few recruits that volunteered, and to cover every mission, we were each sent alone with the investigation crews. I would have thought there would have been more soldiers willing to pop their battlefield cherries on a mission with a less then 10% chance of encountering hostile (hence the reason these are low priority), but I suppose after we had our first battle damage, the first of many I'm sure, everyone's a little on edge. I don't even know if Joseph volunteered, or if he was even at the meeting. Come to think of it, I didn't see him when Anna and I went to visit Aribeth, and I know he wouldn't have missed a chance to wish her well without good cause. I thought I saw him, but when I checked outside of the room, there was no one there, only a beautiful bunch of origami flowers. I thought I heard someone say they saw him in another part of the infirmary before I left. I hope he's okay.

Speaking of Aribeth, she's doing fine, though she was heavily medicated and a bit on the incomprehensible side. Despite getting hit square in the chest, the armor took most of the damage, and she said that the doctors told her there shouldn't be any scaring. I asked her if I could see the wound, for the sake of giving my assessment of course, but she just laugh and rolled her eyes at me. What? It's not like....I mean, I have studied some...I, I only wanted a peak...maybe its time to change the subject.

Anna and I talked about her unusually strong energy and her strange painting. She mentioned possibly showing it to the Commander, and having thought about it, I'm not sure that would be wise. I mean, I know Anna has done nothing wrong, but I'm afraid if she did show it to him, people might accuse her of having some link to the aliens, or even working for them. Conspiracies run rampant in times like these, and the last thing Anna needs is to caught up in some kind of McCarthy Trial. She is a wonderful person, and I will not stand for anyone slandering her name.

.....of course, word will get out that the painting exists eventually. Maybe she'd be best off just destroying it.

Word came in that another mission started while I was gone. We just shot down one UFO, and three more appear all around the world in a matter of hours. Could this be a planned strike, a retaliation, or some combination of both. At any rate, not being on base meant I missed hearing who was sent out. I'll just have to wait until they come back. After talking to Anna, and checking on Joseph, I'll probably kill some time writing more about my past. I have a lot of time to cover, and I haven't even gotten to my death.

 

[ZombieSlayer85]

Name: Joseph Andrews
Rank: Trainee

Off Base Two-Way Video Feed, Audio Recording

Video Feed [1]: (Joseph Andrews) Hey Jessie! Thanks for talking to me so soon.
Video Feed [2]: (Jessica Andrews) That's okay, Joey. I know you don't get many chances, because you are so busy fighting the monsters.
[1]: That...that's right.
[2]: So what did you want to talk about?
[1]: Oh, uh, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to talk. You always cheer me up.
[2]: A-a-are you okay? Is it you friend Ari, uh Ari...
[1]: Aribeth.
[2]: Is Arabeth gonna be okay?
[1]: Don't worry, she's fine. I, uh, I saw her...a while ago. She's gonna...gonna be fine.
[2]: Then whats wrong?
[1]: I, I guess I'm just tired.
[2]: Are y-you having bad, b-bad dreams too.
[1]: Yeah, I...wait, what do you mean! Have you been having nightmares?
[2]: S-s-sometimes.
[1]: Can you remember them.
[2]: Its the monsters. I-I-I think th-they're mad I hurt their f-friend, and they are coming to take me away.
[1]: Do you see, uh, I, I, do you ever hear a voice? Not in your ears, I mean, not in your ears in the dream, but in you head, telling you to do things, or to find something?
[2]:.....no.
[1]: Are you absolutely sure, because you can tell me.
[2]: Yes, I'm sure.
[1]: Good, good. Uh, lets change the subje (female voice) Hey, Joseph, I just wanted to come by to make, oh, I'm sorry. (Joseph Andrews) That's okay. Do you mind if we talk later? (female voice) Of course, of course. I'll see you later. (Joseph Andrews) Sure.
[2]: Who was that?
[1]: That was my fri... my friend Ayame.
[2]: She's very pretty. I can see why you have a crush on her.
[1]: I do not have a crush on anyone! I'm twenty-three years old, I don't get crushes!
[2]: You say that, but your face is turning red.
[1]: Ahem, anyway, who, (cough), ahem, how's McKayla?
[2]: Good. Her mom is taking me and her to the movies tomorrow. Oh, hold on...(rustling, frustrated meowing) look, Chichi's doing good to.
[1]: I'm glad they let you keep her. I got her when she was a kitten, and now she's older then you. I'd hate it if we had to give her away.
[2]: Me too. She reminds me of...of home. Brian s-says she's too old, though, and she'll be gone soon. Just like mommy.
[1]: ...what did you just say?
[2]: B-b-but her f-fur is so soft, and th-the v-vet said...
[1]: Jessie, what did you just say?
[2]: ...n-n-nothing.
[1]: Jessie, what did Brian say to you?
[2]: I s-s-said...
[1]: Jessica!
[2]: .....
[1]: I can see the tears, Jessica. Has he been pushing you around? Has, has he been saying things about Mom, and Shawn and John?
[2]: No.
[1]: Jessica, look me in the eye and tell me you're okay.
[2]: I am.
[1]: Look at me. I want to hear you say it.
[2]: I-I-I g-g-gotta f-finish my home w-w-ork. I-I'll talk to you l-later.
[1]:Wait, Jessie, I'm sorry. Jessie please, talk to me, don't...
[2]: *END TRANSMISSION*
[1]: Jessica! FUCK!!!!!....damn it! Typical bully asshole. Wait until I get me hands on the little bastard, I'll make him pay for every tear on her innocent cheek. *END TRANSMISSION*

 

[Jesse Cooper]

Name: Jesse Cooper
Status: Healthy
Date: March 8th, 2015.
Time: ~2300 hours
(approximately 2 hours after Operation Devil's King)

I was hanging around in the hangar - God, that sounded stupid - when the alarms went off. The first UFO had been detected. Raven-1 was scrambled lickety-split and the damn jet blast knocked me on my ass when it did that crazy vertical takeoff. I gotta admit, it was pretty cool seeing the footage of the first UFO getting shot down. Damn thing managed to stay intact despite hitting the ground at supersonic speeds.

Heard the mission went well; five aliens dead with only one injury. When the Skyranger touched down, I saw them unloading some of the little alien corpses. Command gave them the reporting name of "sectoids." Creepy little buggers had no mouths or anything, and that raised a lot questions for me. If they had no mouths, could they eat anything? Do they poop? Do they even have butt holes? If they didn't have butt holes, could I still kick their asses? When I pestered one of the nerds about these questions, he just told me to screw off. What a jerk, I definitely could've kicked his ass.

Whatever, it's been a long day and I need to catch a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. Later.

***RECORDING ENDS***

 

[BMPixy]

Name: Richard Foulke
Current Rank: Trainee
Mission Name: N/A
Mission Objective: N/A
Kills This Mission: N/A
Total Kills since joining XCOM: N/A
Status: Healthy
Promotion?: N/A
Journal Entry:

--March 8th, Two Thousand and Fifteen, 2347 Local Time--

Strangely tired, but not quite able to sleep for some reason. Figured maybe I just needed to work off some stress, so I headed down to the training room. Found a staff on the weapons rack out near the mats, so I grabbed it, found a secluded part of the mats, and started messing around with it. Back in my youth, I had picked up the staff as a weapon, it was one of the few that I handle with my relative lack of co-ordination, ironic because the things were usually larger than me and needed a bit of strength to heft around to perform that ‘ninja scheiße’ as my Dad called it. I was relatively proficient with it, though I never went formal with my education. Mostly it was just me and my brother swinging at each other in the backyard. Kicked his arse or ass, depending on your preference, quite a few times with it, ‘fore he had to assume the mantle of responsibility, and not the one the Precursors made.

I was ‘bout twelve at the time, my brother was seventeen. My Dad didn’t take much care of his health, so, eventually, he developed congestive heart failure. He died a year later, day before his birthday, too. He was forty-seven at the time. Before that my brother had plans to head back to the States and get a degree in law, but with that, his plans were shattered. He had to stay here with Mom and I and help win bread. Bro eventually did get into law enforcement via Interpol, but he still wishes he could have become a lawyer.

Damn, didn’t think something as simple as screwing around with a staff in the training room would lead into more of this backstory revelation stuff I hear is going around. Lucky people have ‘nough sense to not say what said backstory is.

So yeah, been screwing around with a stick for the past hour. Fun. Still can’t sleep, and here I am, dictating another audio log to likely be overheard by some passerby. I just hope nobody has been going through my logs, found that the February 17th log had been accessed, and I don’t remember doing so. Maybe I should start carrying it around with me, so nobody is sneaking into my room and snooping around in my past.

Whatever, gonna see if the barkeep has anything that’ll put a man to sleep quick.

Foulke, out.

 

[sunscent]

Uh i'm a guy... but dont worry i've been mistaken for a woman many times so i'm used to it... it's probably because i look so good from the back.

... well, frick. (I was in a rush, trying to include the lesser-mentioned names around here, and I guess there was a mix-up.)

Although, I agree--from my quick glance, I must say you sure as heck brought aboard one very stunning asset!