X-COM Season 4 Role-Play Journals

[inhumanehuman]

"Video Essay #2 - Christopher Cole - #05789341"

Alrighty folks, I got the hang of this fancy toaster/camcorder now so let's try to be a little more formal with the start here.

My name is Chris Cole, the date is March 10th, 2015, my official title is VISITOR INQUISITOR (oh well, the decorum was nice while it lasted). You can call me "Big Guns Big Funs", "Chefpants McGoo", or pretty much anything as long as you call me for dinner! (heh)

Let's get to the bones of this beast, shall we?

First and foremost, I'm damn proud of these boys and girls that have gone out on a couple of spectacular missions already. We are far from done here, but if half this crew holds the water that this first class does, then these green bastards ain't got a snowball's chance in hell of taking this Earth. I just hope I get my chance to crack a few skulls too (they do have skulls, right?).

Secondly, in just a couple weeks, our crack team of scientists and engineers have begun making life-changing advancements in their fields. I'm not as privy to some of that stuff, but from what I hear there's going to be some awesome toys to play with in the near future. All I know is that my DVD player doesn't blink '12:00', so that pretty much puts me 20 years ahead of where I was several days ago.

Thirdly, I'll leave whoever watches these things with a bit of 'Uncle Chris' personal information. Got a call from the wife today, actually. Says she's doin' good; worried about stuff as always. Even got to meow at the cat over the telephone for a bit too. I don't know what the hell that even does for either of us, but I hope he doesn't miss me too much, because I damn sure miss them and it sucks that we have to be apart. Maybe once this is over and the US makes me a made man for my contributions, we can finally take that trip to Savannah we always dreamed of. Bed and Breakfast it up a bit.

Retirement is truly going to be a blessing for us all. Man, I can't wait to blast these Martians a new one and get back home.

Anywho, before I get outta here, I wanted to mention that I may have made a friend right here on base. In the mess hall, no less. I mean, I thought certainly the bar would be the place for bonding in this rig, but I digress. Anyway, as I was picking away at 'last weeks' clam chowder, I made a mental note to 'never make the soup taste like spoiled milk and sneakers'. Apparently, my typical 'asides' must have been blabbed out loud because I saw a female soldier snickering in agreement. As I am not a man whom outs a lady on her "colorful language", I'll let it be known that she whole-heartedly agreed. Quite the attitude on this one. I like it. The world could use more of that snarky gumption. Caroline Southway is her name. I think I'm gonna look out for this one.

Well guys and gals, I reckon it's time to put down the speaky-box and get me some much needed shuteye. They have us moving around so much in here between the testing, training, and planning, that this lab rat needs some R&R. See ya'll on the flipside.

"End Transmission"

 

[Taugaunt]

March 24th 2015
Personal Log
Name: Abbygail Penhallow
Position: X-COM Mechanical engineer

Ok! Diary I haven't been able to make an entry in a while but work has been stacking up The commander has us working on another satellite and we only just got the first one finished. Also the science team sent over the schematics for the Nano-fiber vest, to be honest I think it should have been a Nano-fiber suit but they said it would be a waste of alien materials.

Well Anyways haven't had much of a chance to talk to many people around here, but as I said its all work, work, work. If I am not in engineering, I am working on twitchy.

Speaking of witch I think I found the problem. I think some of the wiring was faulty so I replaced them. So I am now recording this for the record, that I Abby Penhallow has just fixed Twitchy so he can return to his post on the constriction arm.

Ready! Set! Test Run!

(sounds of mechanical parts moving)

Its working! Its working!

Oh! No! No! No! No!

(sounds of crashing and metal objects falling)

Come on turn off! Turn Off! TURN OFF!

(More crashing followed by the sound of the machine shutting down)

Ok note to self next test will be in a larger room less shelves. Well test is a failure I guess its back to the drawing board and cleaning up general maintenance. Well most of the stuff in here is already broken so I am sure no one will mind that some stuff is still broken or crushed or welded to the wall.

Sigh

Update you latter diary.

 

[Discopanda]

Journal 3
Dennis Largo
Squaddie
Soldier

4 AM. Going to sleep in a minute. Didn’t die on my first mission. Killed alien instead. Zero injuries. Extremely drunk. Celebrated at bar. Many new friends. Wrote their names down somewhere. Sleep time!

Just woke up. 9 AM. Slept in my helmet. Sore neck. Hangover.

Just ate lunch. Hangover going away slowly.

3:00 PM I think. The mission was eventful, but I think we’re the first guys to get in and out without any injuries. Could be good, could be building up bad karma. Apparently I’m no Hemingway, being drunk doesn’t turn me into a brilliant writer.

I killed one alien on the ground. Grey, evil-looking humanoid with some kind of green laser gun. Very stereotypical. Scary as hell. Filled him full of bullets at about twenty feet away. Aliens aren’t bullet-proof. Good news for humanity.

Kuklinski. Nice guy. Likes his helmet. Polish? Sounded Polish. Hell of a drinker. Blows stuff up.

Ritofuto. Japanese. Doesn’t lack discipline. Was on board with movie night. My kinda guy.

Gorefest. Dutch. Apparently that’s his real name. He’s a killer for sure. I wonder if we’ll be BFF’s.

Tariq doesn’t drink. Maybe movie night will loosen him up.

I feel hope for the first time since starting this op. And hungover, still. Shit.

 

[Cpt. Lokken's Moustache]

Name: Tariq Hassan
Occupation: Soldier
Rank: Rookie

My bunkmate has apparently returned alive. Ridiculous creature that he is, he fell asleep with his new helmet still on. I understand that he's disproportionately proud of it, but that's just illogical. There were no injuries this week, but I refuse to underestimate the threat. We've only seen their infantry so far, and we have no idea of their numbers.

Hit the range again, today. Hit the range every day. The food is better than most bases I've been stationed on, but base life is mostly average. No other extensive contact with the rest of the base thus far.

Just cleaning my weapon. Waiting.

 

[Brian]

Name:Jym Samty
Occupation:XCOM Scientist
MECs?Genetic modification?According to the research,Meld will make these two possible.Think of the possibilities! Also,unfortunately 3 council members have decided to discontinue their support for the XCOM project. Which means less funds. Which means less anything,really. Also, the solider Steve decided to host a type of work out session. Thinking about the workout may help,I decided I'd attend.
It was 50 minutes of torture for me. For one,I felt like leaving 10 minutes in. But I knew I had to push myself,so I stayed. And it was hell. I had trouble with everything. I left before the session ended,but I was still rather proud for staying that long.
Back to the topic of research,we have began researching some of the aliens technology. Hopefully,we will find out how to use this technology to send the aliens back where they came from. For all I know,I'll die before that happens.Maybe some aliens carry a disease that will make humans have the disease. Perhaps I shall end my journal here.

 

[PrismaCube]

Soldier Name: Caroline Southway
Rank: Rookie
Class: None

This is the Story of a crowned ruler named Caroline Southway and how she dies. Caroline had an interesting life, all the way from growing up in a royal family, to fighting off alien waves attacking earth. Her goal was to overtake the thron of England one day. Maybe she will achieve it maybe she won't. There is only one way to find out by keep reading this. So join me in reading all about Caroline's life her lovers and friends her rivals and enemies. All about her Family and how her life ended.


Caroline Southway a young female British, in her twenties joined the X-Com team to fight off the advancing wave of aliens attacking earth on the first of March. Yet there is still a lot to know about Caroline's past, there is a reason to why she is here doing the things she does. Reasons that you may only be able to find in her past. Let me start by her best childhood friend and Bodyguard Alexander Ruflier. Alexander was hired by Caroline's father to sitter Caroline for him, you see Caroline's Father is a busy one, being royal has it's up's and down's. You have to money and fame but you need to work hard to keep it too. Caroline hated Alexander from day one, she always thought of it as a silly excuse from her father not to spend time with her. Which was exactly what it was. Ever since Caroline's Mother died in a fire, he hasn't been the same. Caroline was hit harder thou, but more about how the death of her mother affected Caroline some other time. You see Alexander once saved Caroline's life by literally breaking his bones for her. One fine evening Caroline decided to climb a tree out of curiosity. What a mistake that was. She slipped and feel. This is where she died and our story ends. If it weren't for Alexander who caught her just in the slip of time. Though the catch broke a bone in his arm. Nothing harsh, but he won't be able to hold a gun ever again. Which was fine by him. To this day Caroline respected Alexander and became friends quickly. Later on Alexander and Caroline's German Grandfather Colin even taught her how to handle a gun. But not for the reasons you'd think. But more to that some other time. Let's skip ahead to Caroline just near the end and during her first month at X-Com.


We all love that feeling of butterflies in our stomach, it's a great feeling. Whether it's the feeling of happiness or Love in Caroline's case it might be both. You see upon birth Caroline had a Illness that made her eyes clouded. This poor girl had a hard time growing up with that. Always hearing people asking her if she was blind. It made her mad. Until one fine day in the X-Com bar where Caroline was enjoying a wine, a British man named James Nightingale commented on the beauty of her eyes. Our young lady was about to smack him round with a wine bottle, but stopped when she noticed he commented her eyes. For the first time ever Caroline was flattered. The man left, but his mission to make Caroline curious about him was a success. But then again there were a bunch of fellas in the base seeking Caroline's attention some more than others. Let me tell you about how Caroline got to meet Poor ol' Roger. On her way to her Quarters a American-Asian man who was a little taller than Caroline talked to her. His name was Roger Straten, one of the Engineer's here at X-Com base. Roger saw Caroline on TV last year during the Winter Olympics in Russia, where she won Gold in the Olympics' biathlon. He praised Caroline for winning gold. Out little girl was charmed. This man has remembered her face and who she was for over a year. Surely Caroline was scared that he might go walk about telling people that Caroline was royal, but she trusted him for he seemed like a nice guy. The two went on about their life. Roger was an orphan, his parents sold him into labor so his sisters and brothers could be feed. Shocking! Caroline never realized life was this unfair. She pressed for Information, wanting to learn all she can of the life she never lived. How other people saw the world and grew up in it compared to her. She probably made Rogers feel pretty uncomfortable. She respected Rogers for that for she knew she would never be able to live a life like that. But Roger also had his up's in life, for he is a smart man. He managed to move to America and get a lot of PhDs. This is something Caroline could relate too. For she went to Oxford University early on in her life. The two even later on found out that Roger helped build The Orion Space Station that her father helped to fund. What a small world this is. Caroline was amazed at how many different kind of people were here at X-Com. The Question are you blind then came up, but Caroline didn't hesitate to tell Roger all about her eyes. For the First time ever she was actually happy that someone asked, could it be that James has something to do with this? None the less it's great to see Caroline and Roger being such close friends. They said there goodbye for the day and left. Let's hope these two will meet again.


There seems to be always this one person in your happy little alien killing club who is, what do you call it? Ah yes! Crazy! It just so happens that this crazy girl is Caroline's newly found Roommate. This Person is called Rebecca Robinson here. To this time she has the largest amount of Sectoid heads hanging from her furnace. Not literally, it's just a way of saying she killed the most. How came this to be that Rebecca and Caroline came to be roommates? Well it all started at the shooting range with three little words, yes you've guessed it. "Are you...deaf?". Wait what? that's not what I expected...or Caroline in that matter. Caroline turned to face this mysterious stranger and in front of her stood Rebecca Robinson, Caroline felt a small connection when she noticed Rebecca's left eye was yellow and her right eye dark brown. Rebecca on the other hand must have felt nothing at all, for she was awaiting an answer. Caroline being all royal she is did the mature thing and ignored her...Pff yeah right, Caroline obviously responded with sarcasm by stating that she wishes to be death so she wouldn't here the next stupid question coming out of Rebecca's mouth. For Caroline expected her eyes to come to question next. To her surprise Rebecca started talking about how dogs never ask stupid questions. Which I call bull, I mean my dog always asks me stupid questions. Umm back to the story. Caroline stopped her before Rebecca could say too much, it seems like Rebecca is quite the talkative one. Caroline introduced herself and the continued shooting. Rebecca's introduced herself too and then went on about dreams. This affected Caroline greatly she stopped firing and got lost in her thoughts, hearing the word dream, for Caroline dreams often of her Mother. Quickly Caroline snaps back to reality and responded that she does dream a lot of her mother. But it was ever so quite not even I could hear it, and I wasn't even there when this all happened. Ok that makes no sense at all right now. The two then started talking about roommates and since none of them had one and both seemed to be really lonely at this point they agreed that Caroline would move in with Rebecca later on that day. But careful Caroline do not mess with Rebecca's bed he belongs to Rebecca not you. You got your own bed to befriend. Beds are evil people. So this could be interesting, it will be a weird friendship between Caroline and Rebecca for sure, I wonder how it will turn out. Speaking of how thinks will turn out. Let me tell you how Caroline meet the first ever Cyborg .


Have you heard about that war over Canada between the French and English. Some of you might some might not, it was a long war, later it was just British between British then one of the British side became America and the other Canada or something along those lines, I don't know it's been a while since I learned about the History of North America. But you probably heard that Canadians are very nice. Yet I bet you haven't heard of the famous French-Canadian named Arsène Lamarque who became the world's first Cyborg to ever be created through the discover of meld. Well Caroline got to meet him personally before he turned into one. The two were actually talking about Meld, and other stuff too. The two got along well, Lamarque even noticed that Caroline might be Royal. They both spend some time together before parting ways, the next couple of days Caroline was searching for him, but little does she know he is currently being ripped to shreds. I bet he didn't ask for this. Ah yes and let's not forget about McCraig the pilot of the Raven-1. He got into his second fight, and only managed to get out of it with a ship that looks like junk now and probably a memory that will stay with him forever. He was probably never this close to death. I bet Caroline would love to talk to this guy again. Anyway that's all for today. Next week we will speak some more about Caroline Mother and who she really was and how she was a big part of Caroline's life. Oh and Caroline will also meet her Rival next week. This should be exciting. I wonder if Caroline will ever see action by this point. The Commander seems like he would rather not go down the list but choose randomly now. Let's hope Caroline won't find this out, I'm sure she would get angry.

 

[Rosen0x5]

Name: Richard Kuklinski
Class: Heavy
Rank: Squaddie
Confirmed Kills: 7
Journal Entry #4 / April 5th, 4:10 AM

Its been a few good days since I've seen action, but my time for resting is over. I only have a few minutes to prepare as I am going to visit yet another crashed alien ship. Our pilots are incredible at what they do, the commander sounded quite proud when they shot down yet another UFO. Anyway, I've got time to spare while waiting for Largo, Gorefest and the new recruit, Chen, to get ready, I think Largo lost his helmet. So yeah, It was a nice vacation. I've been drinking with Largo, man. That guy is just a magnet for a good time anywhere.

But about the slogan idea I had, before I managed to slip it under the commander's door, I bumped into Ritofuto. We exchanged ideas and he had a pretty cool one aswell, "Home Team". Now that was quite clever, after exchanging a few positive remarks about eachothers ideas we parted ways. I look forward to working with him on the slogan or any other future projects. Oh, and he got awarded a medal aswell as Elizabeth Grey. That's made me more determined than I've ever been! I WILL have a reason to brag! I WILL have a medal even if I have to kill a sectoid with my damn helmet!

As for my training session on the 30th of March.... well, a few rookies showed up. And frankly, I was impressed. I didnt bother asking names however, it was silly not to but it didnt really come to mind. It was more of a "heres how its done, why its done, how it should not be done" kind of session and after I said and showed everything I needed to, I noticed they were already doing it with no problems whatsoever. I parted ways with a "Congratulations, thats all I can really teach you", packed up and returned everything to the requisitons officer. The entire thing only lasted 30-40 minutes, much less than I expected. Well.. Im just glad someone came, otherwise it would have been quite awkward.

Its pretty damn early, but the time has come. We will be boarding the Skyranger at any moment now.
Good luck to all of us.

 

[MarineAvenger]

Name: James Nightingale
Rank: Rookie
Status: Active Reserves

Audio Journal 4

Things are slightly less gray at the XCOM base, no pun intended when all the lab guys are complaining about the commander selling their resources for money. Anyways I met the most interesting girl the other day with red hair and these cute cloudy looking eyes. She looked down and I complimented her. She seems like a potential friend or maybe something more but with everything going on maybe this is the wrong time to thing of those sort of things. On the bright side of things my requisition has come through, and boy has it come through. The commander is to good to me, I got a full carving tool set and all the wood I could need. There was even an unused room that was originally supposed to be an extra bedroom for the troops so I have some privacy. I haven't been this happy since... well I can't remember. I am gonna try to sleep on this and when I wake up see if I am not dreaming.

There is a foul smell in the air. Like a gas station. James is holding a standard issue M-16 rifle. There is screaming in the air and the haze of smoke is straining on the eyes. He is running towards two men who bear a striking resemblance to him. He screams their names but it is drown out by the sound of gunfire. The two men are gunned down. James tuns around at the sound of a panicked soldier screaming get down as a near by tanker explodes next to him and James is thrown into the air as fire burns his flesh and feels the soothing relief of death fall over himself.

That dream has haunted me for the past 5 years. I woke up an hour ago to that dream and I decided to write it down. No one knows of my past. During deployment on a Middle Eastern oil rig with my two brothers we came under fire by enemy forces. My brothers were gunned down by an enemy machine gun nest and a RPG struck an oil truck that was next to me while I was running to them. My entire right torso was burned bad beyond repair, a fractured skull, seven broken vertebrae, and both my ear drums burst. I had a plate put on my head, metal supports into my back to try to help my spine, and i constantly have to wear hearing aids after an intense surgery. I'm sorry I have to get away.

Two hours later and things get better. I decided to get out of bed at 2:30 in the morning to get away. I grabbed my old guitar that I brought my first time to the base and headed to the dark bar. I grabbed a stool and started to play an old favorite of mine, an acoustic version of "I'm Shipping Up To Boston". By the end of the song a few of the scientists and engineers that were up for late night projects gathered around to listen. It was a great moment when they all cheered for me.

 

[Hokucho]

Log Entry #4: 06:00 April 6th 2015 of Squaddie Hokuchiyo "Hoku" Ritofuto. Sniper Division.

It's nice to fill this out on my own schedule for once, a little early, but no matter. The downtime was nice here at the base but I can't help but want to get back out there into the thick of the fight, I'm used to it so far, these reserve soldiers, not so much. It isn't that I don't have confidence in them, but I'd rather rely on someone who has experience in fighting the aliens then ones who don't, regardless, I am writing this journal just after the away team has taken off to defend our doorstep. Kuklinski, Gorefest, Largo, and a new recruit, Chen, not to be confused with the head of the engineering team, was sent out.

I'm feeling like I'm now the 'backup' sniper, as Gorefest seems to be performing better then me, which is fair. Why send out someone less capable of getting the job done? The good news however is the the Commander has awarded me a medal! It was a great honor to recieve it. One of the rookies in the base recieved one as well. I made sure to congradulate her when I was able to locate her. I introduced myself and got her name... Sadly I can't remember her first name at this time but I remember her last name was Grey, like the color, so that made it easiar.

I want to visit Lemarque, see how he is doing. I understand he was the first one to be tested for this new cybernetics lab that was built near the upper elevator. They are... Going to turn him into a cyborg. I find this... Fascinating but also highly concerning. We are stepping past medical, engineering, and scientific limits never fathomed until recently. I hope this doesn't go to out of hand and force us to lose our humanity. I heard remarks from the science teams in the mess hall about the Commanders choice to go with mechanizing soldiers rather then augmenting them with alien tissues... I'm not sure which option is more desirable...

I wasn't able to find Caroline anywhere recently. It may be the family-matters part of me, but not being able to keep tabs on her is concerning me. She didn't take up my offer for cover and handgun training sessions, nor did anyone else. It was... Dissapointing to say the least, but it gave me an excuse to practice alone at the very least. I am still willing to give lessons however, if anyone simply asks me and I'm not in the middle of something.

I knew I was alright for duty, the psyche tests proved it. I can understand Bradford's concern, but I believe he should look into circumstances a bit more if he doesn't already by now. Speaking of non-military training and interaction, the first movie we saw was a nice change of pace! I also decided to make myself useful around the base. Excersize and military training is good, but it helps establish a more synchronistic team when everyone helps everyone else, so, I have been volunteering to help the retrieval teams and other staff, including the eggheads on Engineering and Science devisions as much as they would let me. This way I can meet some new faces and get their view on things. People overlook it sometimes but comraderie is important in any situation, something I plan on doing, even if I am overworking myself.

I hope Lemarque will be alright as well as the team sent out to handle that larger UFO that MaCraig shot down. The man is a hell of a pilot. He came back in little more then a tin can after engaging that thing! I'll get him a drink sometime. We aren't getting broadcasts from most of Africa now... What happened?

 

[Gahlo]

Name: Quincy Fuller
Occupation: Research Assistant
OOC: This section is for week3. Looking to expand upon it later for week4 as more responses filter in and possible co-op develops.

Quarters​

I can't say I'm all that happy right now. The project is being heavily scrutinized of late. Is it warranted? I don't know. I'm not out there. What happens if they all leave? Does XCOM just becomes this wounded animal that violently lashes out at the world? Too many questions, not enough answers.

I'm spending over a week staring at what looks like tang jello with fancy metal shavings in it. They could be put to such great causes. Instead? Genetically modified super soldiers and mechanized strong arms until the invasion is over. If it's ever over. If XCOM decides to share. Haven't the scifi and anime genres already produced enough content for people to realize these are bad things? But such is the way of the military industrial complex. The boots keep marching and the vortex of fear and control expands.

Apparently the nano-fiber vest came back all kinds of busted today, which is great! Treated properly, the material can be remolded and it'll be good as new. Also, it apparently took the entire brunt of the shot. At least my time down here helped save at least one life, so I can take solace in that.

Still, I wish I could be doing more...

Oh, nearly forgot. Can somebody get that pompous ass out of the labs? Captain of the Wrench Brigade walks in like he owns the place, gets in the way, and then chides me for him causing a problem like he's some kind of big damn hero. Don't see me walking into K'nex ville and disrupt people soldering solar panels on and make them accidentally use a glue gun. The nerve.

 

[Thenlar]

Ryan Chen, Rookie.

Events of March 24th, as seen through Hangar Security Cam Footage.

As Johan walked towards his Chinook transport helicopter he noticed a rookie standing around in the hangar.

Realizing that he's been seen, Ryan casually walks over. "Hey, you're Johan, right? Doing the clean up for the messes we make?" He glances at the empty Skyranger hangar slot. "I'm Ryan. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

"Sure thing." Johan said, "What do you want?"

"Listen, I'm sure you've noticed the food around here is just... okay. Not great. Utilitarian. Et cetera."

He glanced around and then nodded at the transport helo. "You're off to LA, right? I used to visit there and they have these street carts that usually cater to the night life. They sell these bacon wrapped hot dogs, just to die for. I think if you happen to have a little extra space, maybe you could borrow a cart and bring it back. It'd be good for everyone here to have a little tasty surprise, don't you think?"

"Have you even tasted the Meatloaf last Tuesday?" Johan asked "I think it was pretty good. But anyway, bacon wrapped hot dogs do sound very tasty. If we come across one of these street carts I'll make sure that it has some alien blood on it, we'll be forced to take it with us than."

Ryan laughed. "I like the way you work, sir. I'll see you after you get back!"

Shoving his hands in his pockets as if it were some display of defiance, he sauntered off.

Personal Log, March 25th.

Johan came through. So did Leroy. Leroy picked up the drop a buddy of mine left near LA, so we have a whole new supply of booze, and it's actually good stuff. Little bit of wine and beer for those who like that, but I've never seen soldiers or Marines turn down the hard stuff. The bar's got a brand new street dog cart, full of greasy hot dog and bacon goodness. Just gotta figure out how to operate the burner. I also liberated some cheese from the cafeteria while I was at it, so we can go even further. Now I just gotta get some real Texas chili delivered here, and we can have some good times in the bar. Ooooh, I should snag a projector, too. Videos, movies, video games, whatever. Yeahh.... okay, time to make some plans.

Personal Log, April 1st.

Hm, I was thinking about pranking someone bad for April Fool's, but turns out that it's really more of an American thing. Oh well.

I was going through the hangar the other day to talk to Chief Williams, but he was busy. They were loading all these crates onto a transport jet. I recognized them, they were the ones that Johan came back with from LA, full of battlefield salvage. And corpses. I think I remember him saying the green striped ones were bodies. These ones had those same stripes.

I took a stroll by the lab and snuck a glance inside the glass. Where the boxes used to be stacked? Gone. Vahlen looked a little peeved too, I think. But maybe it was just an assistant screwing up. Anyways... I noticed not long after the plane left, the Commander started on some expansions. Did he... sell those? Body parts? Hm.

That tells me there's a market for these things. And why shouldn't there be? We've got the monopoly on actually winning fights against aliens so far (I've been watching the news... things didn't go so well in Germany, Egypt, and Nigeria when we kinda ignored alien activity there).

I oughta see if I can convince someone to nick some little souvenirs, body parts, alien tech, whatever. Right, next time we send some bullet sponges out. Guh, the hell? Why did my neck just go all tingly?

Personal Log, April 4th.

Word is that the new cybernetics lab is constructed, and we're ripping off some limbs to make someone a cyborg. That lucky someone is my buddy Arsène from the med bay. He's still got that USB stick, but I dunno how booze is gonna affect him now. He'll have less overall meat to absorb it, so he'll probably get drunk faster... plus I bet they'll make sure to confiscate any while he's recuperating. I oughta get something for him to commemorate this.

I got it, I'll leave my copy of Ghost in the Shell for him to watch. Heh.

Personal Log, April 5th.

Whoa, daaaaamn. I was watching the intercept of the UFO over Japan in the observation deck in Command. That pilot dude is BALLSY. His plane was practically falling apart when he knocked that big UFO down. Bigger than any we've seen so far. Whoever gets to go there is gonna have a helluva mess to pick through. I think I'm gonna run down to the range and just kill time practicing with my pistol, I haven't used sidearms ve-

"-en to the Ready Room."

Wha? I thought I heard my name-

"Repeat, Ryan Chen to the Ready Room."

... Shit. So that's what that tingling sensation was.

 

[Johnny Asakawa]

Name: Buster A. Bradford
Rank: Central Officer
Date: March 24th, 2015

This is the audio log of Central Officer Buster A. Bradford regarding Operation Driving Grave in Los Angeles, US of A. This audio log is to be accessed only by those who have the necessary clearance and on base. Any attempts to download this audio log to an external source will carry an automatic ten-year sentence in a federal prison.

We had three distress calls hit central command and the Commander has decided that the abductions in the United States was the most pressing. The same squad that did so well in Japan was selected to go out on this mission and I sincerely hoped that they would not come back injured; the last time the Commander had sent the same squad on its second mission, every single one of them had returned with serious injuries.

The squad dropped in near a garage of some kind and quickly ran into a three sectoid squad behind the garage near one of those canisters that everybody seems to be calling ‘meld’. The squad managed to take them out without any casualties and the general mood at command was that we chalked up another one. The Commander was the only one who did not share the sentiment and order the soldiers to enter the garage via the roof.

After Largo opened the back door to the garage, all hell broke loose. Nine sectoids took up defensive positions and momentarily, our squad was on the backfoot. Luckily, the Commander was able to rally his troops and sustained no casualties even though Robinson took a plasma shot right to her chest. She's one lucky soldier.

Robinson and LeMarque got promoted to Corporal and we held a small ceremony for them when they came off the Skyranger to jubilant cheers. The Commander has seen fit to award two medals to Ritofuto and a rookie by the name of Elizabeth Gray; if we were going by military exploits alone, I would have selected Kuklinski and Robinson to get those medals. But hey, I’m not the Commander.

<End of Audio Recording>
Time stamp: 0520 25.3.15
<Begin Audio Recording>

I’m not going to bother with the warning message anymore; just a waste of my time and probably a waste of your guys’ time as well. Nobody can hack our radio encryptions anyway; not even the aliens. Actually now I probably jinxed it.

I got woken up from my sleep by an excited technician to tell me that Dr Shen and Dr Vahlen had completed with their research with the alien materials that had been in those canisters we had been finding. What interested me more was why the Aliens brought the canisters to our engagements rather than what was in them. If the canisters weren’t of military significance, then why would the Aliens bring them to the battles? Perhaps they are of a religious importance.

According to Shen and Vahlen, the canisters held some sort of nano-machines that looked like little hexagons. They told me that with the right research, they could be applied to further our military. Vahlen seems more concerned with augmenting the soldiers’ genetic tissue; so far, Vahlen has come up with potential augmentations for the eyes of our soldiers, helping them hit the targets more frequently. Shen advocates choosing certain soldiers into the MEC program and given them Mechanized Exo suits to combat the aliens. After seeing our men on the back foot against these Sectoids with our inferior weaponry, its good to see that the Doctors have come up with a way to level the playing field.

I failed my science classes at Punahou but I understand the just of going on. If you want detailed scientific reports, access Dr R Shen and Dr C Vahlen’s files on the matter. It makes for a pretty interesting read if you understand what they are saying. Which I don’t.

<End of Audio Recording>
Time stamp: 1030 30.3.15
<Begin Audio Recording>

We’ve been receiving a few strange transmissions from ‘Commander Straker’ about ‘Shadow Operatives’. I had Rodrigo Mimura and Michael Nakajima from Operations find out what on earth he was talking about. They submitted their report to me just a few minutes ago. I’ll send the complete report to you guys when I’m done with this audio recording, but I’ll give you a basic synopsis.

Commander Straker, born Ryan Arthur Jarvis, is twenty-five years old and is currently living in New York City. He graduated from Manhattan College with a bachelor’s in forestry and it appears that he has spent time in several mental institutions. My recommendation is that while he has been getting some press about these mysterious shadow operatives, the press understand he is just another nut case and don’t take anything he says seriously.

<End Audio Recording>
Time Stamp: 1730 4.4.15
<Begin Audio Recording>

I still can’t believe that Nigeria, Egypt and Germany have left the council. Sitting in on that meeting was a mistake; the amount of abuse thrown at me by the three delegates nearly made me break down into tears. I don’t blame them though; Nigeria’s comment about how they had been neglected was particularly hurtful because it was true. With just one Skyranger to respond to the Alien threats, we had to triage and choose the places where we felt we could make the biggest impact. Germany didn’t buy that excuse and promptly left the room shouting about how the death of Germany would be on my hands.

Well, construction crews have been extremely busy over the past few days; we just finished the Cybernetics Lab where Dr Shen’s Meld creations will be made and we’re building a new Satellite uplink center so we can get more satellites into orbit. Hopefully that commitment will show the other council members to stay on and not desert like Germany and Co. did.

Arsene LeMarque has been selected to undergo physical augmentations so that we can have a mechanized soldier in our ranks. I hope that it all goes well for him and if he does emerge from this alive, he’ll pack one hell of a punch next time we run into those aliens.

I’ve been seeing a disturbing amount of alien souvenirs circulating amongst the crew of the base and I’ve sent out an XCOM-wide email warning everybody to stop taking souvenirs as valuable material is being diverted from the research labs. I’m sure Dr Vahlen would approve. I’m not sure if there’s one person ‘handing’ out these souvenirs or a whole group of them, but I’ve asked two of our base security guys, Robert Chang and Phillip Aquino to investigate and find out who the hell is giving out bits of aliens to people. It’s disgusting and not to mention, slightly unsanitary.

<End Audio Recording>
Time Stamp: 0308 5.4.15
<Audio Recording of Mission Control>

Mimura: “Sir, I’ve got something!”

Bradford: “Commander, we’ve got another contact. The Signature is a little bigger this time though. Mimura, track the contact. Nakajima, get McCraig on the radio and tell him to suit up immediately and bring his A-game. Johnson, sound the alert alarm.”

Klaxon: Contact Alert.

Bradford:“Mimura, put it on the Globe. Nakajima, how far is McCraig from Contact?”

Mimura: “He’s about twenty seconds out.”

Bradford: “Mimura, how long does he have until contact is lost?”

Mimura: “Fifteen seconds sir.”

Bradford: “How’s his fighter holding up?”

Nakajima: “Armor’s holding out at sixty-five percent sir!”

Mimura: “Ten seconds remaining!”

Nakajima: “Armor’s at 28%, recommending pullback!”

Bradford: “He can do it!”

Mimura: “Five seconds!”

McCraig: “We’re getting eaten up here!”

Nakajima: “Armor’s at 8%. Pullback recommended!”

Mimura: “One second!”

Commander: “Good job McCraig! McCraig is the shit!”

Bradford: “McCraig, this is Bradford. Good job out there; the Commander saw that and said, and I quote ‘Good job McCraig! McCraig is the shit!’. Your fighter’s been a bit banged up; we’re reading 8% right now so ease your throttle and get home safely. I’ll get you some officer grade whiskey when you return.”

McCraig: “Acknowledged. Over and out.”

Bradford: “Mimura, get recon satellite alpha and find out where it crashed. I want a visual of the crash sight in the next five minutes. Nakajima, keep in radio contact with McCraig and make sure he gets home safely.”

 

[Meaningofbread]

How to Survive an Alien Invasion

By Elizabeth Grey - Rookie

Chapter Three: Is anyone feeling watched? - How to get over feelings of impending doom.

When returning from medal ceremonies, the proper etiquette is to walk with your head held high, chest out and proud as hell. I'm just way more confused than before. Right before the bing of the speaker going off telling me that I had won an "A for effort" award, I was actually enjoying my leisure time here. But now that I have my participation ribbon, I'm pretty sure that I'll have to go out to the field and do some dirty work. And by dirty work, I mean shoot stuff. Lots of stuff.

Think about it. Why in the high hell would they give me, worst soldier in the barracks, a medal? Certainly not because I'm made of sunshine and rainbows and bring Joy and Happiness to every other person on base. I'm going out, whether I like it or not. Maybe I can just sit in the back, lobbing grenades, while the actual soldiers do the real shooty-bangy stuff.

In response to this sudden, random, show of recognition, I've taken to meditating and spending a lot more time at the shooting range, hopefully to calm my worried nerves, and maybe letting me shoot straight for once. There was a man named Hokochitadodadidlysomething (Authors note: Find name!) who also got an award, but I he actually earned it seeing that he has combat experience. He gave me a slight smile as he walked out of the room, him beaming with pride, me slightly confused, wondering if I was going to get sacked.

So the plan is thus:

1. Spend more time at shooting range. Maybe I can work on my abysmal aim before I get sent out into the field.
2. Find a training partner. Once again, Ryan Chen seems like an optimal candidate, but he just left for the latest mission.
3. Continue meditation. Find Zen. Transfer my corporeal form out of the XCOM headquarters.

I just need to get the nerves of steel that fighter pilot has. Apparently he managed to shoot down a UFO with him on fire, and it miliseconds away from flying away. Kudos to him. Maybe he should get my medal.

- End of Chapter Three

 

[too_spooked]

(This is a collaboration between too_spooked or 'Roger Straten,' Prince Zarek or 'Arsene Lamarque,' Taugaunt or 'Abbygail Penhallow,' Psilon or 'Cerise Vahlen,' and BMPixy or 'Raymond Shen')
(Collaboration with Prismacube in his post)
(Collaboration with Suryce is TBD)
(Collaboration with Sarge-Pepper is TBD)

Name: Roger Straten Occupation: Engineer working with the X-COM Project
Age: 38 Current Whereabouts at the beginning of this journal: The engineering bay
Date: April 5th, 2015
//Begin Journal

Cybernetics. Until now, this technology was unreliable at best, with the ever looming threat of life-endangering rejection outweighing the potential benefits that it would give. But the discovery of a substance whose name, Meld, was adopted from an unofficial moniker for a crystalline suspension housing billions of nano-machines, each which the ability to construct mechanical structures with unparalleled efficiency, or to fuse foreign tissue with our soldier's own flesh, would change all that. The Engineering Team has prioritized the highest potential application for this material; Mechanized Exoskeleton Cybersuits, or simply abbreviated to MECs. These MEC's are an alien's worst nightmare, and being directly linked to the operator's brain, can almost seamlessly blast them to hell.

The Cybernetics Lab went up only a day earlier, and my team and I were busy constructing the solar panels and the DLRDs (Distorted Light Ray Detectors) for our latest two satellites to be involved with the actual construction. The word for my transfer to the Cybernetics Lab hit me by surprise, and one of the veteran engineers that came in the first batch succeeded my rule as satellite manufacturing overseer. "Dr. Shen, great to see you!" I beamed, enthusiastically shaking his hand. Dr. Vahlen was in the room as well, face furrowed in concentration as she clattered on that tablet of her's. I didn't pay much attention to her. "Ah Roger, glad you could arrive so quickly! Welcome to the new lab, for the time being, this is where you'll be working. I assume you've heard about your role adjustment from satellite manufacturing overseer to head of cybernetic enhancement?" he reminded me. "That I have, Raymond. I'm glad you're making use of my talent, so, walk me through this place." I asserted, Raymond pointed at a circular tube with various mechanical arms extending out of and within, with glowing lights and a button-based interface on the front end of it. It resembled quite closely to an MRI scanner. "This machine is where our candidate will have his limbs surgically removed so that his replacements can be fitted. It requires almost no physical input aside from the initial settings that Abbygail will be inputting. You will be providing emotional encouragement to volunteer as he enters surgery." He clasped his hands together as he turned to face a circular stand, which I assumed was the location where we'd be constructing the actual MEC. "Doc, I'm sure you've read my files over and over, but you know that I'm not really the emotional bonding, lovey-dovey type guy, correct?" I inquired. Dr. Shen smiled softly as a pulled a slip of paper out from his work-coat pocket, "Roger, you underestimate how much we know about you."

"February 5th, 2007. It was a chilly, winter day in Canada. You were visiting friends from work..." My eyes opened widely. How does he know about this? It was just me and her! "You were all tired, as they stayed up late waiting for you to arrive, and you suffered from jet-lag. You offered to buy coffee from Tim Hortons, which wasn't too far from your friend's house. Driving down the road, you noticed something, a barking dog in an alleyway, growling seemingly at nothing. You investigated. You went down the alley, and found a women, in the midst of labour, crying softly to herself." How... how do they know all this? "She begged you to help her, but you didn't know how to. So you began crying too. You never learned how to love someone or help someone in times of trouble. So this woman, she told you to help her anyway you could, just not to leave. So you did. You eased her through, helping her breathe, push and give birth to her child."

"Raymond, please... stop. I've moved passed this long ago..." "You helped her give birth, Roger. And it was the first time in many years that you cried tears of joy. But when the news came... the news the the child died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, you feel into a deep state of depression. Roger please, I know it isn't like that at all, but I know from your files that you are an expert at providing support, and you most certainly can form attachments. For the sake of this project, someone who can help a woman give birth in the midst of no where most certainly can help a soldier deal with the loss of all his limbs."

"Fine, I'll do it. But for the sake of us both, I like to keep things from the past, in the past."

It was hard, moving past that moment. But I really do try to keep the past from interfering with my present life. Well, anyway, Shen informed me that our candidate for cybernetic augmentation was Arséne Lamarque, one of the soldiers I had acquainted myself with several weeks back. He was Canadian, coincidentally, not sure if Shen used that specific story based off of that variable. Like Bradford's my job in the cybernetics lab was now two-fold. Preparing him for surgery and giving him encouragement prior to the operation, and assisting with the construction of his Mechanized Exoskeleton. I spent several minutes with my small team of engineers, which included a couple veterans (like Abbygail) and some newer engies, reading over Dr. Vahlen's notes that she had recorded earlier today. After reading the notes thoroughly, I signaled for and awaited Abbygail's calibration of surgical unit.

Abbygail was a skilled engineer, so it only took several minutes for her to fine tune the apparatus according to the instructions from Vahlen. She gave me the thumbs up, and I trotted over from the surgery machine to the door, to brief our volunteer. I inhaled softly, what we were about to do has never been attempted to such measures that we were going to today. I poised myself by the door, knowing that these screw-loose scientists would be the last thing he'd see with his old limbs.

Arsene lumbered in, and for moment he looked somber, staring down at the ground with gawking eyes and a pitiful expression. He panted slightly, I gave him credit, for a man that has been exercising and taking tests for nearly an entire day, he wasn't as exhausted as I expected. Anyways, I'm assuming he immediately covered up his weakness with a nonchalant acknowledgement of us so we wouldn't doubt him. I know I never did.

"You called?" he spoke, addressing his senary of guardian angles. "Hello, Arsene. I'm glad you're approaching this lightheartedly." I returned. "I'm just hoping you guys know your way around a wrench." he chuckled cautiously. "Ah don't worry, if you hear a 'boom' then we'd all be dead anyway." I quipped, maintaining the laid-back approach we apparently were taking with this. "That we will be, Doctor. So, I guess I better kiss goodbye to my only amours. Arms, legs, voyez vous dans un autre vie..." It was pretty depressing actually, I'm brave, but not getting my limbs hacked off by crazy scientists, brave. "You may be losing your limbs, Arsene, but by doing so, you will become humanity's most powerful saviour. And if it makes you feel any better, the cybernetic limbs will feel no different from your biological limbs, aside from being remarkably lighter." I reassured him. "You don't need to tell me twice Doc. Now you gonna drug me and get it over with or what?" he urged, curling his look of impatience into a cheeky half-smile. "Prepare the anesthetics. Let's get this show on the road, people!" I announced. The engineer under me passed the drugs, which I inserted into Arsene's arm slowly, making sure every last drop of the sleepy sheep-sap entered his bloodstream. "Now Arsene, count slowly to five, and then you should be unconscious." I said, prompting the countdown. His eyes began drooping and his mouth opened and closed slowly, he muttered something softly as he went under. "Ugh, doc... I don.. feel good. Veron.. I ... I'll be with you... so-soon..." and he was gone.

Arsene was inserted flat onto a stretcher, pending placement into the surgical machine. Abbygail awaited my signal, I turned to her, and gave the thumbs up. "Abby, you and Vahlen do your thing. My part in these shenanigans is finally over, I need some beauty sleep." I chirped. I completed the first half of my job, which was the easiest. After he emerges from a long and fun suspension, new limbs and everything, I'll be the one handling his calibrations and his adjustments to the state-of-the-art robotic extremities he'd be wielding. His limbs-to-be rested on the side wall, in a day or so from now, I'd be fine-tuning them and adjusting them. Until then, guess it's back to smacking satellites with my wrench until they can help with shooting down some aliens.

Speaking of which, our pilot McCraig has once again blammo'ed a visitor from the stars, giving em' the old one, two from humanity. Good one, Tex. I'll have to congratulate him in person, but before that I need to head to the lounge to check out how Robinson, witness of my invention's ingenuity, fares after it SAVED HER LIFE. Or at least prevented her from going to the sick bay for a couple days. Maybe I'll run into some familiar faces along the way? Hopefully the engineering crew completely independent from our expeditions in cybernetics or constructing those satellites can get the second up-link up before the unveiling of our brand new sputniks we're building. When I get back, the race is on, rival engineers. Better get to it then, Roger Straten that is in a very optimistic mood, over and out.
//End Journal

 

[Sarge-Pepper]

Name: Steve Maltus (Co-Op with Prismacube, Suryce, and Too_Spooked)
Rank: Rookie
Job: Drunk

“Oh Jesus, Steve…” Roger said, walking into the bar area where the large black man was currently clutching a bottle of Maker’s Mark that was half filled. Steve's deep brown eyes were glassy and hardly focused, the uniform he wore ruffled and splotched in places.

And to top it off, the bourbon had a bendy straw in it somehow, giving a comedic effect to the whole situation if it wasn't such a dramatic departure from Steve as everyone knew him.

The whole sight that Roger took in was a sad one. Another bottle was close to his chosen perch on the bar, sideways and long empty. Wadded up paper napkins lay everywhere in the abandoned bar area, mostly around a wastebasket that was placed askew on one of the tables. Somehow, the bar had been empty when Steve had walked there, and it seemed to have stayed that way.

Steve grabbed one of the nearby balls of paper and regarded it closely, examining each wrinkle and fold as thought it was a crystal ball that held the secrets to the universe just below its creased facade. Suddenly, he snapped up, tossing the ball like a basketball, tongue out in concentration as he summoned all his will to make the shot. He overcompensated for the toss, throwing his already ridiculously off center of balance to the wind, nearly falling off of his bar stool. The paper ball went straight upward and landed with a soft thunk on his head.

The large man collapsed on the bar in a fit of giggles that reverberated from the walls.

Roger nodded his thanks to the security rookie that grabbed him from the Cyber Ward to come get his friend. This was going to be a challenge. Roger has never seen Steve drunk before, as the large man usually show quite a bit of self control around alcohol before, In fact, Roger couldn't remember Steve having more than one drink before, even on some of their more rambunctious pool nights.

He decided to go with the Trojan Horse method of handling drunks. "Steve fucking Maltus, gulping down with good old American piss-water I see? Don't have too much fun without me, even though I SHOULD be working on those satellites."

“ROOOOOOOGER! WOOOH! I am SO glad you came, Buddy!” A huge smile split his lips as he grabbed the bottle in front of him and starting making some ridiculous faces trying to get the straw into his mouth before giving up and laughing like a hyena.

"The Bar has been fucking boring without someone here to chat with."

"I'd bet. But whose else would lighten the mood better than me? You sound a bit, uh, inebriated though, I'd lay off the booze, man. Why you don't you shoot some hoops instead? Alleviates boredom more than the soft stuff, personal experience talking here. Net's right there by the way."

“No WAY! I am having SO much fun here. Here, you wanna try? I'll take it easy on you, considering you suck at basketball.” The ball he extended to the engineer was completely soaked in alcohol, the edges dripping their contents onto the floor. Steve didn’t seem to mind as he tried to hand it lightly to Roger's left, eyes not able to focus on his friend too well. Roger eyed the unsavory item in his friend's hands.

"Y-you should probably show me the ropes then."

“Well, that’s okay too, I guess. I'll just have to show you how it's done!” He drunkenly took another basketball shot to the basket, watched it soar through the air, and land with a wet splat against the wall.

"You alright buddy? You seem a bit off, probably the booze. There's always a point where you got to get your ass out of the lounge and ask your COs what to do."

“No Roger. I said I’M Fine. Besides, if I go out there, they’ll just cut me up too. Not like I’m any different from Lamarque. Dude's probably got a family or some SHIT like that. Me? I’m dead.” Something reflected in Steve's eyes that hinted that this might be the reason he was here.
Steve hazily remembered the last few days as he grabbed the bottle and took another swig from it. Watching the cybernetics lab being built over the last few days was hard to bear as it was. It really drove the point home that they were not in control of their lives, that they were a combination of Pincushions and Lab Rats.

“All for the good of mankind.” Chen had said in a speech opening the Cyber Lab, or Dr. F’s, as some dark humored soldiers began to call it amidst the rumors of what the design was for. But Steve had already known. It’s all the engineers and scientists could chat about, this mysterious ‘Meld’ substance. A new era of cybernetics, this missing link of future science.

It was bullshit to Steve. The face on his Canadian friend when he was told that he was volunteered to be a vanguard of humanity, the darkening of his well humored face, the steeling of his will to accept that he was forever going to be changed from what he was to what X-Com wanted him to be.


"Corpses don't talk, Maltus. You look pretty lively to me."

“No, seriously. I’m dead. D-E-A-D.” A pointed finger into his friend’s chest drove the point home.

“US declared me KIA. Wreath to my mama and everything. I’m stone cold, bitch, 9 feet under.”

"Calm the fuck down man. I'm not trying to be the instigator here, and besides, your family will be safe because of your services to humanity, if you die at least they won't have to mourn you twice."

“Man, Fuck you! You are safe from this shit. They need smart asses like you, runninn the calculations and calibrating the whatzisz. They don't need soldiers. Even the best of the best come a dime a dozen, apparently."

Before Roger could retort to that, and his slightly reddening face told of the choice words that would be said, Rebecca Robinson and Caroline Southway walked in. Beauty and the Beast, so it were. For the record, Rebecca was the beauty in Steve's eyes. He'd heard too much about Carlione's prissy attitude around the base to think too highly of her.
" Well would you look at that, seems like we are already too late, this poor arse is already half dead, finishing himself of before the aliens can...way to go big shot." Of course, her sharp tongue and hefty sigh didn't help his opinion of her at all. He turned to the women in the doorway, eyes not quite tracking right before settling on her.

“Hey fuck you too, princess, I don’t remember asking for your opini—opinny—excuses.” The irony that he just called a princess, a princess, in a derogatory manner didn’t seem to faze him at all from his oncoming diatribe.

“You think you are better than us? Jesus. We’re next. Shit, it already looks like they got to you with them cloudy eyes.” Caroline looked like she could slapped Steve right there.

“You’ll be lucky though. We might get gills, a fucking eye in the middle of our heads, or a tentacle for an arm or some weird science shit. AND WHY?” He suddenly roared, bottle falling off of the table as he tossed his arms out wide. Silence reigned as Steve looked around, bloodshot eyes suddenly very clear and very hurt.

“Because they fucking can.” Silence as Steve stood up for a second. He wobbled on his feet, but managed to stand firm against whatever his inner ear was trying to tell him.

"We don't mean anything to those guys. We are faces on a sheet, pictures on the memorial, names on a GODAMN LIST. PLAYERS IN A VIDEO GAME. AND NOT ONE OF THOSE ASSHOLES GIVES A SHIT." His voice was reverberating off of the walls around him.

“Because our humanity is worth nothing next to the world. Our sacrifice, our blood, our tears, and limbs, and whatever the fuck else they’ll take from us will never be known but to each other. We will die, we will have our very flesh torn from our bodies AND NO ONE GIVES A SHIT.” A single tear rolled down his cheek as he turned and slammed a chair into its table, the crash making everyone jump

“NO ONE.” He turned to his party of people, disgust apparent on a few of their features. Rebecca's face was contorted into a grimace, her distaste for his appearance and words apparent, and Caroline looked like she was either going to snap and kill him, or snap and seriously maim him. He knew that he'd lost his audience from the looks on their faces. Even Roger wasn't too pleased with him. He grabbed the bottle and took another heavy swig from it, tossing the remaining empty husk in the trash bin on the table as he walked by it.

“Fucking no one.” He muttered, starting to stumble off toward the exit. Each person parted to let him pass, the stumbling mass of the man suddenly worn and beaten, eyes searching for something in each of their faces, but never finding it. He left the trashed room, leaving his occupants. Roger was the only one to stir, standing up and excusing himself, making sure Steve made it to his room.

 

[Psilon]

Collab with BMPixie, too_spooked, Taugaunt and PrinceZarek
14:00 Zulu, first of April, 2015, Vahlen’s personal quarters
“Undisciplined, idiotic, shortsighted…” Vahlen was chanting under her breath, as she went through the day’s reports. For well over a month now she had been the glorified babysitter of the ragtag science-team that the council had managed to scrounge together. No, that wasn’t accurate. “…bloated, and complacent…” They were a good team that for all their weird lack of specialization was working along with the engineers to great results in time frames that any researches this side of the hemisphere would gladly sell a kidney for. “…ineffectual…” Her problem with them was, that she didn’t much fit in with them, since she was the only one with a soft-science background, and minimal knowledge of physics and chemistry “…useless…” which saw her taking the position of an organizer, and overseer, that occasionally summarized their findings to send to the council, and in a much more concise form to the commander “…corrupt…”. And now that she finally had something she could work with, it would amount to nothing, because the commander had jumped onto Shen’s childish idea. “…bitter old…” Maybe next they’d just throw ninjas or pirates at the aliens. “…government pigs!” Most of her ire was reserved for the German government, of course. How could they withdraw from the projects like this, after but a month of alien activity? She feared to think what she’d come back to.
4:30 Zulu, fourth of April, 2015. Vahlen’s personal quarters
A beep woke her up. Her personal workstation had come alive of its own volition, with a priority message indicator on it. Surprised she stumbled towards it, sleepily, hair getting in her eyes at every step. She clicked it twice, to see a mere sentence occupying the space between a picture of doctor Shen and a rotating X-com badge, as could be found on the sweater that was currently protecting her back from the chair’s cold surface.
“Cybernetics lab will be up in an hour.” She leaned forward and smiled. There was a glint in her eyes. This day could very well turn for the better.
An hour later Vahlen was where she needed to be, looking like she'd been planning to be here now anyway.
“You finished your project before schedule, doctor Shen!” She said, enthused. The man was sitting on a lengthy table. It looked a bit like an fMRI scanner, though darker in color and integrated with the wall. The old man looked up at last. “Is this where the operation will take place?”
“Yes. Yes it is. This is where the amputations will take place. And we already have our subject, as well.”
“Already?” Surprise was obvious in Cerise’s voice.
“The commander just left a minute ago.” His eyes were bloodshot, and Vahlen first realized he seemed exhausted. Still, he got up with an effort. “We have our first subject.”
“Oh?” She asked, as a file was put in her hand.
“He seemed to hesitate for a little, as to which one we should operate on. This one was the one he settled on.”
Vahlen’s eyes skimmed through the file. “Seems adequate. When can you have the device ready?”
“I won’t.” She looked at him, a hint of disbelief in her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I can’t oversee this project personally anymore. It’s taken me away from the rest of the ever-growing engineering crew for long enough. I’m assigning some of my best to you, for the duration of this project.”
“You presume…”
“Nothing. You’ve been complaining about the lack of meaningful work for you in the lab for the last three weeks.” His interruption shocked her. The old man had never struck her as this determined. “Plus, you’re the only one qualified to lead this endeavor. You’re the one who knows brains, not I. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to see how the boys are doing back in engineering. The engineer who’ll help you with the measurements will be up shortly.” Without leaving her an opening to speak he was out the door. She was left…well not quite with her mouth open, but close to it all the same. Shortly afterwards a woman walked in, green eyes wandering around in a frenzy before they stopped on Vahlen. Her red hair hardly combed.
“Hi. I’m Abbygail Penhallow.” The woman offered her hand. A few scars on it caught Vahlen’s eyes for just long enough to miss the opportunity to take it. “Not one for shaking hands then?” Surprisingly, the younger woman didn’t sound offended.
“Eh…not much, no.” The scientist replied, awkwardly. “I’m Cerise Vahlen, head of the research team. Are you the one that will be responsible for the measurement device?”
“The measurement device?”
“Yes, the neuron response measurement jumpsuit.” Blank eyes for a moment, then revelation.
“You really need a name for that, you know. But yeah, I’m the one that’s going to be taking care of the suit. You can watch, if you want.” With that she headed to one of the nearby consoles…and then moved to another one…and another, until Vahlen realized she didn’t really know which one she was looking for.
“Do you need some help with this?”
“No, I just need to find the right console. I didn’t think to give it a distinctive visual design, when I was sketching it out.” She said with a smile, hand resting on a computer monitor. “But it’ll work perfectly.”
“I should hope so; this would be a very delicate procedure, even if we weren’t doing it for the first time. We can’t permit even the slightest production fault.” A slight twitch in Abbygail’s hand.
“Don’t worry, I don’t allow production faults.” Vahlen was impressed with the younger woman’s resolute tone. A dedication to precision she could appreciate.
Precision, however, wasn’t a strong suit of this Lamarque, because it was another hour or so of waiting, before he finally showed up in the lab. Cerise got up from the operating table, as the man walked in, but before she could say anything he stopped her with an uplifted finger.
“I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is “You’re welcome!”.” The man said with cheer one wouldn’t expect from one in his situation. Didn’t make his words make sense though.
“I fear you must have me mistaken for someone else.” The ‘s’ in that coming out a bit off.
"Well, my comrades and I have been grievously injured for this... 'Meld', so I'll accept your gratitude for aiding the scientific community. After all, my name is going down in history alongside yours. Arsène Lamarque, at your service." He said offering a hand. Vahlen shook it.
“Cerise Vahlen, head of the research team. And I highly doubt either of our names will be going in history. If you’d follow me.”
“Why’s that, Doctor?” He inquired, following her without a protest.
“The ethics of our work here is what you might call…dubious.” A snort from one of the two medical doctors that were on hand to assist. A young woman, maybe two or three years Cerise’s junior. The other attendant was an aged man, no younger than sixty – unsurprising considering Vahlen had read his books during her medical studies– these four people alone would preside over Arsene’s change. They stopped in front of a slab, overarched by over a dozen mechanical arms with various ends, controlled by the console Abbygail was occupying. “Now if you’d remove your clothes, we can begin.” There was a pause. He was staring at her, disbelievingly for a moment.
“I thought the ethical problems were of a different variety.”
“It is necessary. In the next day we’ll be measuring your body’s neural activity, and to this purpose we’ll dress you in a special suit. If you’d get started, I’ll tell you more.” Vahlen failed to notice the woman behind her taking a deep breath, before exhaling it and giving up on a protest.
“Okay then…” He said, sounding like he had been waiting for a punch line, rather than an explanation. He did comply, however.
“Very well, so once you’re ready, you’ll lie down on this, and our engineer will begin the construction of the neuron response measurement jumpsuit …”
“Troodon suit.” Abbygail corrected. Vahlen looked at her, eyebrows raised. “ It’s a suit with more computation power than your average robot, and much less of its weight.” More silence. Vahlen looked like she might burst out at any moment. “And Troodons, as far as dinosaurs go, have more brain power to unit of weight than any other species.”
“I’d wear something named that, and nothing else.” Arsene said, lightening the mood as he removed his last piece of clothing, save his underwear. Abbygail flashed him a smile, that may very well have been behind his blush. Vahlen’s shoulders visibly slumped.
“Okay then the…Troodon suit will be built over you. The process will involve the insertion of several clusters of electrodes at various points along your limbs and body. Without anesthetics, since we can’t have that corrupting our results. There will be one set at the limb’s start, and several others at various muscles so we can best tell what pattern of neural activation leads to what limb movement. ” The man’s face lost the redness that had crept up on it, and was growing pale fast as he lay down. “These will be connected to cables that will be woven into the fabric of the suit, and will then exit the suit to connect with a four kilogram backpack that will gather all the data, and send it to my laptop. The suit will also keep track of your body and limbs’ position at all times, as well as neural afferents from your limbs with active field potentials and single neuron activation measurement. After this suit is grafted onto you, you will perform various exercises in the gym and shooting range, at the medical staff’s advice, so we can get the best data possible, in terms of selective muscle activation. Integrating of this will permit us to make the MEC suit you’ll be wearing feel as natural as possible at all times.”
“So this is all for my good?” Arsene asked, eyes closed, limbs restrained as a machine arm’s extremely thin edge pierced his skin.
“Undoubtedly.” Vahlen replied as more hands got to work.

 

[Choppychop]

NAME: Alexander McCraig
OCCUPATION: Interceptor Pilot
KILLS: 2
Sorry I haven't been picking up your missed phone calls commander but being "The Shit" around base is quite the energy drain! Yeah, so I heard what you said over the comms. And I blushed like a schoolgirl. But enough about your undying worship: let me tell you about that fateful encounter with the biggest damn UFO we've seen thus far.

Unlike last time a UFO came in I wasn't in the shower. I was...erhm...taking some private time and moisturizing the more dry parts of my body...if you get my drift. Regardless, being the only fighter pilot on base I had my flight suit nearby and ready for anything! And just as I was...well...finishing up, the alarm sounded! Commander, I have dreams about that alarm. Sometimes it caresses me as a lover would their companion, other times it beats me like a abusive parent, and this one time- Enough about the alarm! LET'S GET TO THE DOGFIGHT!

I attended one of the optional PT sessions that one of the infantrymen had set up, and I was quite exited to see that the exercise had rejuvenated my legs back to their mediocre Track and Field days. Sprinting down that hall to the hangar I felt like a combination of The Flash and a kid running towards his momma (speaking of mothers, I hope that the 55% of my paycheck has been meeting its recipient). Hooking up to my G-suit was even faster this time (even though one of the assistants squeezed my butt, PT really helps out in all departments it'd seem) and I jumped into my fighter just in time to hear the brief.

It was a medium UFO. A thought began to form in the back of my mind, "You're going to get so F----'ed up!". Naturally I pushed this out of my mind and accelerated out of the base and into the airways above Japan.

When I first saw the damn thing Commander my jaw dropped. I was dumbfounded. The first UFO had been large but this one...MY GOD. I could only recall that one scene in Jaws: We're gonna need a bigger boat. Regardless I started getting into that battle trance I so adore. But before I even entered that rhythmic state of mind in which the only thing you hear is the dull thumps of your warheads colliding with the alloy of the enemy, I was hit.

And by hit sir, I mean HIT. As in a babe as a solid 10 who just walked into the Confident Nerd Course (if this hasn't happened to you sir, then you're not going to understand). Salvo upon salvo plasma collided with my ship and any shots I got off were not going anywhere. I bet you thought I was gonna lose it sir, I know you thought I was going to have to eject. But as the UFO began to speed up and my hand began to hover over the ejection button, it clicked. I fired the perfect missile straight into their engines and it was down, and that's when I heard your praise sir.

The way back was both sobering and exhilarating. On one hand: I had almost died. And on the other hand: I HAD ALMOST DIED! For so a while after the first UFO I thought that the aliens were simply going to not show their faces again and that I would be soon sent packing like an outdated video game. As these thoughts rolled through my head I landed at X-com and began to get out of my craft, which is when I noticed.

Sir, I'd just like to apologize for not greeting the crowds as I did before. You see my private time had somehow ended up on my flight suit and the only way to save myself from eternal embarrassment was to run screaming to the nearest bathroom. It was an honest mistake and won't happen again.

...please don't laugh at me.

 

[Grelite]

Name: Tarrmis Gorefest
Rank: Squaddie

Tarrmis paced back and forth in the barracks. He would move one object from one side of his bunk to the other and later move it back. Though his behaviour was one that might spike curiosity, his mind was set to different matters. Around the base he had heard himself be referred to as 'that Dutchman', a title he felt uncomfortable about. He questioned the nature of this 'accusation', as he would call it. How did they know? Sure, he knew he could hide nothing from X-COM's intelligence office, but had they leaked his personal information to all the staff, including the soldiers? With an unsure smile he would not at the notion when he heard it, but inside it triggered worry.

In the past nineteen years he had not set foot in the Netherlands; it was strange how something that had been home for so long was now foreign. What little he wanted to remember of his youth seemed distant and alien. A life long left behind. A story he had not repeated in his mind in years. It certainly was not the first time he had changed his identity, nor was it the last. For now he repressed the memory, yet worried what else would be known about him. This time they would not judge, this time he could redeem himself. Perhaps he was already too late.

Eventually he dropped himself on the bed. A loud thud followed by a spine-chilling creak would have indicated the end of any lesser bed, but Tarrmis was lucky enough to have this one hold. Maybe it was his height, maybe he still retained some sort of accent. That is how they knew he was Dutch. Yeah. That was good enough for him. Accepting it was pointless to worry further, as it would only drag him further into a whirlpool of memories, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The rude awakening of alarms was of little bother to Tarrmis. He felt better getting on his feet. Once out of the Skyranger, into the alien-infested streets, he felt more refreshed than he had in over a week. This time he felt in his element, he was focussed. The Commander had put him in charge of the squad, a choice he figured fitting; leading a small squad through an urban location to take down armed hostiles. Even when the squad had spotted a bigger group of Sectoids than ever before, he remained calm, picked his targets and made sure his squad-mates used their abilities to their full potential. Sure, it wasn't all smooth, but the team returned alive and successful.

With his recent worry of becoming noticed too much, he felt glad to be left out on promotions and awards. For now, he would try and lurk in the shadows. Be as effective as possible, but avoid the praise. He would spend the two weeks or so keeping up with his exercise and training, speaking to his fellow soldiers whenever they had a question and setting up a resting system that would keep him focussed and ready any time the alarms could sound. Overhearing the stories of Arsène being hauled to the new Cybernetics Labs and loss of funding to X-COM, but he knew little of their validity and figured it not enough of a concern for him to invest more attention into. Trust, he figured, is a two-way street.

 

[PrinceZarek]

The following is a collaboration with Suryce 'Rebecca Robinson'

Personal Log 004
Name; Arsène Lamarque
Rank; Corporal
Current Status; Under MEC Trooper Augmentation
Confirmed Kills; 8 Sectoids

It felt good to be in the Skyranger again. This time the mission went much smoother than the last time I went out. When I got back to base, the Commander called me to his office, and told me of the purpose of the new lab they had been working on. He told me that I was to report there in the morning and to begin the testing process under the supervision of Dr. Vahlen. I saluted and made my way into the rec room, still trying to accept what's going to happen.

I noticed Rebecca sitting at the bar, drenched in sweat. I hadn't seen her since we both got promoted. She deserved it more than I did, all I accomplished was keeping the enemy off of everyone else. I pulled up a stool next to her, "This seat taken?"

Rebecca looked up at me with a sly smile, "Hey, bro! No seat is taken for our new corporal!" She patted the stool for emphasis. "How does it feels to be able to boss people around?"

I chuckled, "I don't know about you, but I'm not one for all that ceremonious stuff. I'll try not to abuse it too much."
I reached into my pocket, taking out the flask that Ryan had given to me while I was in the med-bay.

Taking a drink, I continued, "I heard Ritofuto earned a medal, along with one of the recruits. If you ask me it should've gone to you. You're the one who goes all out in a fight. Of course, I usually help somewhat, I kept them busy in Los Angeles. I managed to add a few more notches on my rifle, but I'm nowhere near your record."

I set my drink down, "But I think that'll change in a few days. I don't know if you've heard it through the grapevine, but I'm going to be turned into a cyborg in a few days."

Rebecca hesitated before replying, "So, rumors are true, eh? They are making giant robots down there? With something like that, I wouldn't need any medal to brag back at home! And it probably helps not getting burned by this damn plasma too, I bet!" she chuckled, "... Do you feel lucky?"

I thought about it for a moment before I replied, "Yes and no. I'll be in the history books as the first human cyborg, if we even survive this whole conflict, but at what cost? I know I signed my life over to X-COM, I did it in the past when I joined the Legion, but... this is different."

I took a big drink, thinking back to a time before X-COM, before aliens and everything else. I touched my locket and sighed, "I've lost so much already... why not my arms and legs as well?"

Rebecca shuddered, "And to think that they call me a badass!"

She regained her composure and let out a big sigh, her eyes back to her glass, fiddling with it with her fingers.

"I... was kind of deceiving you right there, brother, to see your reaction. I find none of this sexy or exciting, and as for home... well, whatever, point is, I was silently praying I wouldn't be picked for that stuff. I tried to reassure myself, 'I'm already their best soldier, aren't I? They don't need to augment me, and the operation could have risks. I'm kind of precious, they wouldn't risk losing me for the sake of a prototype, would they?' Kind of pathetic, anyway..."

She raised her hands to look at them.

"For me, those limbs are a part of my story, of myself. My fingers have been wet from blood, their palms modeled by the weapons I have held, my arms are covered in scars." She smiled faintly. "I still have the scar on my shoulder from the plasma shot. I always ask the docs to leave some kind of trace. I don't know if it's for pride, or as punishment, or whatever, but I just do. And if I ever were to lose them for some replaceable pieces of metal, then what is there to remind me of what I did?"

She finally turned her gaze back to me. With a sad look that probably nobody would usually expect from her.

"Do you really have not much else to lose anymore? Aren't you scared?" She gave a look to my locket. "I have seen you fiddle with that thing when we were both at the medbay, is that your own memento?"

I didn't how to respond, could I trust her with my dark past?

We've fought together, we've bled together, she deserves to know...

I took a deep breath, "It is all I have left... of someone very important to me."

Memories came flooding back, teasing me with the life I could've had.

No... I can't dwell on the past... but Rebecca should know the full truth... why I fight in her name...

Véronique...

I braced myself, "After I left the Legion, I became a mercenary, a very successful one at that. I had everything I ever wanted at my fingertips... but it wasn't enough... I wasn't happy. Until I met her."

I opened my locket, showing Rebecca the picture inside of Véronique and I...

"I was walking along in Paris one night, and I heard a crash. I looked up and saw a couple arguing. I went up there and intervened. The woman was actually a prostitute, who was fighting her client who wouldn't pay. I scared him off, and the woman thanked me for helping her. After that, we started seeing each other. I helped get her away from her previous 'employer', and we moved in together in Marseille. I retired from the mercenary business, and for once, life was peaceful. At least it was... until my past caught up with me..."

I took another big drink, "Being a mercenary earns you many friends and even more enemies, some very powerful. They were opium smugglers in Afghanistan, operated by the Chinese triads. I had shut down their main facility and had eliminated many of their best men. They ambushed me while I was visiting my parents back in Canada. They beat me, tortured me, and once they had their fun, they planned to kill me. I was able to escape... though I wished I hadn't."

I placed my hands on my face...

I... have to tell her... I must...

My eyes watering, I continued, "They followed me home. I was inside, working on renovations to our house. Véronique was expecting our first child. She had went to her doctors appointment to find out if it was a boy or a girl. She was walking up our driveway when... when..."

I started to weep openly, "A black sedan drove by, and started shooting at our house. I managed to duck, and got ready to return fire with my pistol. I looked out the window... and saw Véronique lying there... motionless. I rushed to her... trying to help, but there was nothing I could do, she was losing too much blood. I cradled her in my arms... reassured her that I was there. She muttered something, I didn't know what. I leaned in closer to try to hear better, 'oy... it was... a boy'. That was the last thing she said to me. She died... in my arms. The baby didn't make it either."

I began to dry my eyes, "I knew what I had to do. I used up all my favors and all my contacts to find out where the main triad headquarters was. I went in with small team, and massacred everyone inside. Every... single... one."

My eyes turned from sorrow to pure rage. "I took my time with their leader, making sure he knew personally what pain they caused me. After that I moved to Havana, and planned to start my own mercenary company and fight all the evils in the world. Unfortunately, our extraterrestrial 'friends' had other ideas."

I grabbed my locket, "This is all I have left of her, this is all that I have anymore."

I looked Rebecca in the eyes, "So when I said I have nothing to lose, I meant it. I have no comrades, no friends, I can't visit my family. I can't allow myself to get close to someone, only to lose them again. Its... just the way it has to be..."

Rebecca's gaze shifted forward, expressionless. She seemed to be thinking, and did so for what felt like an eternity. She finally looked back at me and asked:

"Who decides that? This 'way it has to be'? I honestly doubt it's you. You know, you're not the first to have lived with nothing, and who tried to keep things the same. Other human beings have this weird tendency of wanting to socialize with people. Especially if you become a hero, or the harbinger of a new kind of soldiers, people will gather around you like flies, and will try to socialize like bees, whether you like it or not. What are you going to do then?"

I didn't know what to say. Was what she was saying true? Could I really inspire others? Could I leave the past, and start anew? I looked at Rebecca with a sincere smile, "I guess... I can learn to live again. I will do my best, for you... and everyone else."

I removed my locket, placing it on the counter.

"I have a favor to ask of you. I've always had my locket with me, wherever I went. I'm supposed to not wear anything metal during testing tomorrow. I want you to hold on to it for me, until I'm done. We've both been scarred, physically and emotionally. You're one of the few people I can trust here."

Rebecca was shocked, but picked up and examined the locket. "Are you sure about this, bro? I am a clumsy person, I may sit on it and break it... and gain a new scar on my butt from it, but that would be kinda secondary I guess."

I gave a reassuring look, "You told me yourself, I need to leave the past. If you do break it, I guess I'd have no choice but to move on without it. It would probably be for the best anyway. I'll always have my memories."

I made a slight chuckle, "Of course, if I don't make it through the procedure I won't have much use for it anyway. Here's hoping I make it out in one piece... well... not literally."

Rebecca grabbed the locket with confidence. "I will return you this.", and waved goodbye.

I raised my glass, "Don't worry, I'll be back out there soon enough kicking ass with all of you." I headed off to the barracks to rest, with everything going on tomorrow, I'll sure need it. As I headed off to the Cybernetics Lab, I prepared myself for a long day.

 

[Suryce]

Corporal Rebecca Robinson (Assault), Journal 04, recorded on April 3th, at 21:23
Hunting Collection: Sectoid

Am I losing the bet?

Or is it too soon to say so?

The last mission went very well despite the sheer number of enemies. I got promoted and those Sectoids are still really fun to kill. Their plasma pistols are dangerous but it’s easy to corner the little guys and once my shotgun is right in their face, it’s a joy to see their expression before I blast their big skull open. As I was jumping on the last one, he managed to shoot me in the chest in desperation but this time I was well-equipped. The plasma shot easily burned through my body armor once again but the vest I was wearing underneath absorbed the rest. I met one of the engineers later, Roger... Straighten, and he seemed really proud of his work. Apparently, they made it from alien material and stuff, that’s why it’s pretty resistant without weighting a ton. I told him I was grateful for it, especially since it probably avoided me getting uglier by losing a breast.

Now that I’m getting used to this new environment and routine, I’m opening a bit more to other people. I have also met that girl with the shady eyes at the range, Caroline, and I tried to chat but I guess she was trying to concentrate on her shooting and instead she proposed we become roommates. Which was a pretty good idea, it’s good to have someone else I can blabber to other than you diary. Now, don’t be jealous, I’m going to tell a secret: in the deepest hours of night, Caroline snores. But it’s a secret to everybody, okay? It doesn’t really bother me anyway, I’ve slept with worse background noise before.

So, the first few days after that mission, I was feeling pretty happy, but recently, things have gotten messier.

I have received no answer to my letter as of yet, and I wonder if I should expect one... From what I could gather blocked down here, things are pretty bad in Africa, if not super bad, and my country is not even part of the Council. Is everybody okay? Does that woman protect them like she said she would? She said they would never risk anything, but obviously she either didn’t expect a world-scale invasion, or she outright lied to me… I wouldn’t put it past her.

If I lose everything, will I become like Arsène? I spoke with him a moment ago and I tried to cheer him up (I guess?). It looked to me as if he was… a beast, or something. He is not afraid of tomorrow’s operation, or not much at least, because he apparently has nothing to lose. I have lived a similar life before, alone, perceiving everybody else as either a target to get off killing or a mean to help attain that end. I told him what happened to me: people aren’t like you, they will see you as a human being they can socialize with and will not hesitate to try. Living alone is not hard for the reasons one may think. At my own surprise, it seems to have convinced him to move forward and he gave me this locket, to hold for him while they are… doing their thing. It’s a memento of his late wife, I have attached it to my arm to always have it on me.

It reminds me that I should be strong too, in order to be ready to take things as they come. The news and rumors about the Cybernetic stuff clearly had a serious impact on the soldiers’ mind, I saw Steve crying drunk at the bar over Arsène’s fate. I have greatly appreciated the workout sessions with him, but the more he spoke, the more I felt angry at him rather than sympathetic. I thought his words were pretentious and self-centered. Everybody is making the best of the situation while he is busy wasting himself… But now I’m an officer, I can’t just mutter in my mouth if something doesn’t fit right with my own standards. I should consider it my responsibility to keep the troops in good shape. I’m used to dealing with youngsters but this may not be so different. Once Steve has sobered up, we will need to talk.

And if I’m unlucky, I may be in need of a new companionship once again.