RP XCOM2: Liberation of Earth

[MarineAvenger]

Under the Sun

North American Continent
Former United Mexican States
Specifically, Baja California Sur
La Paz, May 17th, 2038
1721 Hours, Local Time

A searing heat wave was enveloping the city of La Paz, one that was a surprise with the news weather reports saying it was supposed to be twenty degrees cooler just a week before. However, even in the oppressive blanket of sweat and scorching heat, the city did not cease its movements, people still going about their day as if it was any other. In the downtown market, chickens clucked as they moved about the crowded area, and among the crowd were two young people, the first being a man with slightly long blonde hair, his tan hood pulled over his head as to protect him from the sun’s rays, and the other was a woman with a large brimmed hat, her waist length hair swaying behind her.

“Leeeeooon… I’m hoooooot…” The woman complained, holding his arm like small children would their mothers so they would not be lost.

“For the hundredth time Gwen, complaining about it does nothing. What am I supposed to do, turn off the sun?” Leon rebuttled her, although he found her behavior irritating, he would never deny her the secure feeling.

“...yes…” His adoptive sister mumbled childishly, which caused Leon to sigh and tap her shoulder.

“Come on, the place we need to be is not far. And it will be inside. Though with the heat as it is… I am sure the bar is packed.” The older brother said as he lead her on, moving a bit more briskly as his want to get out of the sun was just as great as Gwen’s.

When they finally reached the place they were intended to, it was proven that Leon’s hypothesis was correct, and indeed the bar was packed, but at least as soon as they entered in, air conditioning blasted them with a rush of welcome cold air. Gwen’s entire body rolled with goosebumps and she sighed in relief. “Remind me never to complain about Canada’s weather again.”

“I’ll put that on the remainder list.” Leon said as he pushed through the group of patrons till the crowd parted a bit near the two pool tables that sat on a far side wall of the joint, one currently in use and the other being used for people’s drinks. It was said the place they were in was once a sports bar where people would watch futbol games of international teams regularly, but now it only showed some Advent programming of some mediocre show that no one seemed to pay attention to.

Leon had swiped a stool from someone who had unfortunately gotten up and set it down in the corner for Gwen who accepted the chance to get off her feet happily, and she looked around skeptically. “This is a pretty crappy place to hold a meeting, don’t you think?” The native french girl noted with her tone a bit hushed.

Leon looked around and he chuckled, keeping his hood up so he just looked like another street punk. “Quite the opposite. They made us wait a long while… and this is the reason. Think about it. Extremely hot day, everyone flocks somewhere cool, makes for a large crowd where faces are harder to spot. Ingenious really… makes sense why the long wait.”

“I think it is just disrespectful. We offer our services to them for nothing… you think they would give us some sort of… courtesy?” Gwen said with a shake of her head.

“We need them more then they need us. So when our contact does arrive, please try and remain silent and let me do the talking.” Leon told his sister.

“You’re being a bully.” Gwen complained in her girly tone again, something she only did for Leon as well.

“No, I am being smart, now hush. Enjoy the cool you overheated baby.” Leon smiled, rubbing her head as the two waited in extended silence, Gwen sitting back and closing her eyes as Leon watched the T.V. without much care.

A half hour seemed to pass, some people going, some coming in, and Leon wondered if their contact would even show. However, someone finally did approach them and it seemed to be one of the players of the broken up pool game, a kid who looked to be in his mid teens. “Wanna smoke?” He asked, holding up a cigarette box.

“Sorry, I only smoke vapors.” Leon said, hiding his excited expression as he took a cigarette and the kid lit it. He didn’t smoke regularly at all, just did it as a once in a blue moon thing to keep himself calm. “So…” He blew out some smoke away from their contact, and away from Gwen. “How does this work.”

“Outside the city’s west end at 3:23 A.M. precisely. A truck will come to pick you up and take you to where you need to go. Other then that, things are on the down low.” The kid said, then started to walk away.

Leon leaned back next to Gwen and tapped his foot. “Seems we are going to have to be up early.”

“I hate mornings…” She glared at her adoptive brother, Gwen scoffing. “Must you?”

Leon looked over at Gwen and smirked. “Hey, it is this or I find myself a girl.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Never.”

“Then deal with the smoking.” Leon responded as he put out the cigarette and pushed off the wall, walking away with a pouting girl behind him to get ready for their trip.

***

As opposed to the hot day that had enveloped the city before, the night was a cooler time, with the wind giving a cold chill whenever it blew down a side street or main road. From their small motel room, Leon moved to the side of the room where he picked up a mug of coffee and he drank it black with a lot of sugar, whereas the one Gwen was drinking was very creamy and sweet. While Leon’s attire remained unchanged, Leon had gone out and bought a black raincoat for the girl, her last pair of dark clothes unfortunately having gotten snagged on barbed wire when they were running to the city, and just hadn’t had the mind to buy new ones to stay hidden as much as possible.

“So the west end, huh? Isn’t that part of the city like… really populated with crime. It seems to me these resistance guys just throw darts at a map to pick their pick up locations.” Gwen complained, setting her mug down as she continued to braid her hair up so she could tie it around her neck as to not have it get in the way later.

“Come on, I think they have their reasons. Behinds, I think they use throwing knives instead of darts. More unpredictable.” Leon jested as he reached into a bag and pulled out a small handgun, taking out the clip, as well as others that were in the bag for extra ammunition, and started loading in the individual bullets.

“You know… I gotta ask, why don’t you give me a gun?” Gwen questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember what you did in the Dallas area? You forgot to leave the safety on, nearly shot your own foot, and not only that but you alerted Peacekeepers to our location.” Leon took a towel and threw it at Gwen’s face, causing her to squeak in surprise. “That’s why.”

Gwen sourly pulled the towel off her face and glared at Leon. “That was one time…”

“Then there was that time in Ohio where somehow you forgot to change out your blanks for actual bullets.” Leon began again.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault those jack offs didn’t label their crates properly!” Gwen protested.

“And then there was the time-” Leon started but was soon cut off.

“Fine, fine, I get it, alright! So what will be my job while you blast away anyone who tries to stop us?” His adoptive sister asked in a defeated and annoyed tone of voice.

“You my dear…” Leon reached into the bag and pulled out a small black cylindrical object and tossed it at Gwen. “Can hold the flashlight.”

Gwen caught it and stuck out her tongue at Leon, putting the flashlight to the side as she angrily got to work on her braid again.

 

[MarineAvenger]

Sum of All Fears

Southwest of La Paz, Mexico
0800 Hours, May 17th
Onboard the Avenger
Floor 6, Central Block
Command Quarters

Kai lightly snored in his bunk, one of the few luxuries he was allowed due to being some of the first ones to inhabit the ship. Besides him, someone that was invisible to all but Kai stood fists on her hips and she leaned down, poking the doctor’s cheek. “Wake up Kazuko. Time for work.”

“Noo… I don’t wanna. Five more minutes…” Kai grumbled as he turned in his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

The Kami stood up and rubbed her chin, wondering the best course of action to take, and upon coming up with that course, immediately threw it out of the window for the funnier route. “If you don’t get up I am going to flash you in your dreams.”

The reaction was almost immediate as Kai quickly sat up, striking his head on the top of the bunk and fell down again, rubbing the red spot on his forehead. “Fine, fine, I’m up… you freaking devil woman…”

“See, was that so hard?” Sukuna asked, crossing her arms and looking to the side. “Drama queen.”

The japanese man let out a sigh as he threw off his covers and hopped to the ground, scratching his head and yawning. “Need I remind you that it is most likely you who is the reason for my phobia.”

“Oh please, you know how many young men would dream to have a hot goddess who helps give them super powers?” The goddess asked with a sly smile.

“I have a hot goddess in my head? Didn’t get that memo. Maybe you should introduce us.” Kai grumbled as he reached into his bag and began pulling out his work clothes.

Sukuna got a hurt look that was totally mock and she leaned down, ‘pressing’ against his back. “Don’t tease me like that Kai,”

Of course, moments later Kai had to pinch his nose as some blood slowly came out and he looked back at Sukuna angrily. “Don’t do that!” He said nasally since he had to pinch his nose because of her.

“Oh please, stop demanding that of me. You know it is never going to happen.” Sukuna got off him and sat on his bunk as he dressed, and when he was done he yawned once more.

“You know… If I had to count the number of times I got beat up because you forced a nosebleed on me every time I even walk past one of my female coworkers, only to have to run before getting my ass kicked because they think I am looking them over like some kind of pervert, I would be counting for a damn long time.”

Sukuna said nothing for a long while until she finally leaned forward with a smirk. “Ba… A… By.”

“Screw you.” Kai said with a roll of his eyes and he walked for the door, Sukuna disappearing with a laugh. As Kai walked down the hall, not able to resist one more yawn, he closed his eyes and rolled a sore shoulder. “So what is the occasion?” He mumbled.

What do you ever mean? Sukuna responded in Kai’s head, her tone seeming to always hide her true intentions.

“I mean you rarely ever come out, so what was the purpose?” Kai asked again. “Kept you hidden this long, so it is sort of strange that you would just pop out to see me hit my head.”

You know I have feelings of my own my boy. Sometimes I would like a little freedom here and there to stretch the arms and legs. After all, I do work ever so hard for my master. Sukuna said as if she was in desperation, taking strides to make it sound like a dramatic soap opera.

“Yeah, you do work hard, and you have my thanks for that Sukuna. If you wanna chance to come out once in awhile, tell me. I can find private areas you…” The doctor informed her. “Don’t you dare take that out of context you witch.” Kai snapped.

Poo… Sukuna thought with a chuckle before she sighed, her tone turning serious. So… are you going to talk about it?

“Talk about what?” Kai asked, rubbing his eyes.

Your dream last night. She responded worriedly. You really do miss them, huh?

“We all know what happened in the Antarctic. I just hope… they survived.” The doctor whispered.

Sukuna remained silent and inside his head, she put her arms behind her head and smiled. “It had been years since then Kai. You can’t let it haunt you.”

Easy for you to say. I am all the family you know. Kai responded back.

“Be that as it may, you cannot allow yourself to be eaten up by this fear of yours. I am sure your family is fine back home. Just try and distract yourself. Work, books, baseball… wo-”

Don’t you even suggest it. Never going to happen. Kai cut her off.

“Haven’t you wondered though? You could try some therapy you know. Slowly get over your phobia.” Sukuna suggested.

Real good idea. “Hi, my name is Kai. I am a complete wuss around women and am physically and mentally impaired by them, please help me get over this extremely embarrassing phobia of mine!”

“Enough of the snark. You sound more like a baby now then you did before.”

Kai stopped rubbing his eyes and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. It isn’t like I want this stupid thing around, but I just can’t get rid of it. When this is over I will become a hermit in Japan. Maybe run a hot spring… err… on second thought no, not a hot spring. Maybe... something. Clinic maybe, I don’t know.”

Kind of early to be thinking of the future, is it not Kai? The Kami of Healing asked.

“I don’t think so. I think looking towards the future is a good thing. Keeps me sane.” Kai mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Well Kai… I wish us luck. After all… there is no going back from this with the time we put into XCOM. The dangerous risks we took. Sukuna warned.

As Kai stepped into an elevator and turned, he let out a deep sigh. “I know… but what other choice do we have? Too late to go back at this point. Damn you Robert…” He said as the doors closed in front of him.

 

[MarineAvenger]

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You More Distant

Southwest of La Paz, Mexico
0800 Hours, May 17th
Onboard the Avenger
Level 2, Front Block
The Computer Room

In the very early morning on the Avenger, a small glow came from one of the consoles of the ship's computer room, a part of its communication and information network. The glow washed over a particular man, his eight glowing red eyes coming from his facial interface glowing in the darkness of the room as light was not needed for the man. Artyom Reznov, codenamed Rasputin, sat at the console and brought up his program he used to help improve the network of the ship. His hands flew across the keyboard, something in his mind telling him where to type was, and he could do it without even thinking. More and more windows opened up as Artyom was able to multitask with the most efficiency possible, his eight photoceptors allowing him to operate as a human computer.

A small light crept in as the door open. The head of intelligence peaked in and, spotting Artyom, Joe hesitated. He suddenly came to the realization that he had been avoiding this man for some time now, mostly out of an objection to him working here, but that would have to change. So why not now? He stepped into the dark room, slowly approaching the Russian man.

If Artyom seemed to notice the man, he did not show, his face firmly plastered to the computer screen he was looking at, not even the light at his back seeming to grab his attention.

Joe cleared his throat as he walked up. "Ahem. Reznov, was it? Or do you prefer your codename?"

There was no response, the man thoroughly into his work.

Joe laughed a bit nervously, and tried a more direct approach, grasping the man's shoulder. "Mr. Reznov?"

After a bit Artyom stopped his typing, but didn't look to the side.

Joe bit his lip. "My name is Joseph Andrews. I'm the head of XCOM's intelligence department. I felt it was high time you and I met more than in passing."

Artyom's head turned ever so slightly, then moments later a very rough voice said a simple, "Hello..."

"Ah! So he speaks!" Joe grinned and grabbed a chair. "Can I pull you from your work for a few minutes?"

"I would rather you not... But technically... You are the boss, so I am forced to accept your orders." Rasputin told the man, though barely turned his head to look at the man.

Joe's grin dropped a bit. "So... what you're saying is, if I wasn't the boss, you'd just ignore me?"

Rasputin nodded. "Most definitely."

"Well... don't you think that's a bit rude, Mr. Reznov?" Joe asked, thinking he had an idea what the answer would be.

"No. The only ones who matter are my superiors. Everyone else is just a hindrance or serve a purpose that does not concern me." He answered. "Whether it is rude is irrelevant to me. Frankly there is little to care what others think of my thoughts."

Joseph slowly nodded. "I gotcha. I see your point. Problem is, this is XCOM. Everyone matters. Everyone is relevant to everyone else. There are no islands here." He shook his head. "Well... maybe there is one, but I'm hoping to do something about that."

"I would not be so certain. Other then my superiors, An-Yi is the only one who seems to like me. Even then... She is a superior to me. She deserves the respect."

"You make it sound like it is other people's fault no one else likes you." Joe looked at his face piece for a moment. "And... while I'm sure that is partially true, you don't make any effort to associate with others. You would probably have a better, easier time here if you made a few more friends."

Artyom turned his head from Joesph. "Wrong. Things are less complicated without friends."

Joseph leaned back in his seat. "Why don't you try? Having people here that I enjoy spending time with helps me. It could help you. But you'll never know if don't try. Are you... afraid you can't?"

"Nothing scares me anymore. I just refuse to get close to people who will one day be irrelevant to me. Or who will end up dead. More likely the latter leads to the former and vice versa." Artyom told the man. "It helps dull pain."

Joseph let out a long sigh. "You mean like your parents, huh?"

Artyom visibly recoiled slightly, turning his head from Joesph and went back to work.

Joe placed a hand on the man's arm. "I know how you feel. Most of us have lost someone to them. But surely you don't regret the time you spent with them. You don't regret the friendship you have with Lily, do you? Do you think one day she will become 'irrelevant' to you?"

"Yes." The Russian man said honestly. "And I would very much like to forget anything and everything about those... people."

The information officer sighed, and stood up. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll let you get back to your work."

"That would be best." Artyom told Joesph as his hands started moving swiftly once more.

Joe walked to the door and looked back. "I look forward to working more with you. And... I know you never will, but if you ever change your mind, I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I even know some people on the ship you could relate to."

Rasputin offered nothing in response, merely seeming enveloped into his work.

"Well... at least I tried," Joe muttered to himself, and walked off.

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

Resistance Compound
Outside of New York
0300 Hours, Local Time

"Hey O'Brien!" Gimley yelled down the excess hole, not even bothering to step onto the stairs. "You finished down there yet!"

"Shut it, git!" Morrigan yelled from the bottom of the small, cramped room used as the armory. "I have three more rifles to clean! If ye took better care of them..."

"Then what work would we have for you?" Gimley countered with a smile. "Oh, yeah. Packing field rations. Hurry up down there so you can do your next job. And make sure you clean up real nice so the rations aren't covered in grease and sweat."

"Oh, good. Nice for you to actually give me an excuse to bathe." Morrigan wiped her brow, the armory easily 95°F. "I don't suppose I'll be getting to use these weapons or those rations any time soon, will I?"

"Not a chance," Gimley answered. "You broke everyone's trust. You pay the price. You're lucky we let you and your little brat stick around."

"Then why not just cast is out, then?!" Morrigan yelled, her voice echoing in the small chamber. "I am a fighter, yet I am left off the field. I work well with electronics, and yet I am kept away from sensitive equipment."

"Sorry. I don't make the rules." Gimley grinned. "All I can do is suggest to the boss that you are kept off the field as long as possible."

He quickly closed the hatch before the wrench Morrigan threw could hit him. "Fuck off, you bloody shitebag! I'll punch your face so hard you'll be crapping teeth for a month!" Morrigan let out a long sigh, and continued her work in silence. She knew it was her fault, but she felt their punishment was extreme. Not for the first time, she realized she was their servant. They knew she couldn't leave as long as Brigid need a safe place to sleep at night. She would do it all again, as long as it kept Brigid by her side.

Once her work was finished, Morrigan headed over to the showers. She was quick, and not out of fear of the male members coming in to watch her. Few were awake at this hour anyway. She was quick for the same reason most of the men avoided watching her; she didn't like to look at the scars covering her body.

She snuck back into her shared bunks, knowing she could get away with another few minutes, and wanted to see her daughter. She smiled down and Brigid, the girl conked out after a day running messages across the base, the face dirty, her hair messy, but her pretty features still showing through. Morrigan adjusted her blanket, and kissed her on the forehead.

She stepped out into the hall, and Gimley grabbed her arm. "What are you doing! Come on!"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "The ration packs aren't going anywhere."

"Not that!" Gimley pulled her along. "Some suit just showed up outta no where! Boss is deciding whether we kill him or not."

The walked to the main entrance of the small base, most of the crew gathered around a man in his forties, dressed in a fine business suit. Everything about him was clean and business like, save for his messed up hair and the fresh bloody lip and nose from a few blows to the head. He was sitting on a chair, Bonnie, the group's leader, sitting backwards on another chair across from him. "You sure know how to take a punch, fancy boy."

"I've gotten used to it," the man responded, sitting a mouth full of blood to the side. "Honestly, this is how I am usually greeted. Must be the suit. Maybe I should go for a more 'down to earth' look."

"It sure don't make you look like a member of the Founders. Don't make you look like nothin' but a spy."

The man slowly shook his head. "I wear this because a spy would want to look as much like you as possible. I am from the Founders. And if you would just..." One of the man punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him for moment.

Bonnie pulled out a knife, and held it to the man's throat. "Maybe I shouldn't give you a chance to spy on other people." A wide grin spread across her face as she tossed the knife back and forth between her hands. "You think we're stupid enough to believe..."

The man suddenly surged forward, snatching the knife out of the air with one hand and grabbing Bonnie's arm with the other. He twisted her arm behind her back and held the knife to her neck. "Wow... gotta tell you, it usually takes me forever to talk myself out of that situation diplomatically. But than, my arms are usually bound. And my legs. And my mouth once, which made talking them out of shooting me difficult."

Everyone tensed, several rebels raising weapons, though Morrigan simply watched curiously. "What do you want?" Bonnie asked angrily, fidgeting.

"Well, not to kill you all," the man said. "If that was the case, I would have come down here with a whole bunch of ADVENT troopers. I'm not even armed, unless you count this knife. My name is Joseph, and I am here to recruit someone." He let the woman go, and gracefully handed her the knife back.

Bonnie scoffed. "I don't know what you think you can trade, but we really don't have anyone to give up, so piss off."

Joe frowned. "Surely there must be someone you're willing to let go. Anyone will do."

All eyes turned to Morrigan, and the Irish woman snared. "Bunch of ungrateful pricks..."

"Do you mind if I speak with her in private?" Joe asked. Surprisingly, or not so much given Morrigan's reputation, Bonnie motioned for everyone to step out. "Joseph Chambers," he said, offering his hand to Morrigan.

She ignored it, sitting in one of the chairs. "You're being played, you know? No one wants me. They'll probably give me away for free."

"I'm counting on it, Ms. O'Brien," Joe responded, sitting in the other chair. "I'm afraid of how much they'd ask if they knew I was here specifically for you."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "If you know who I am, then you should also know..."

"Yes, Morrigan, I know all about your reputation here. I also know what a great asset you are, with your fighting, shooting, and computer skills. You are wasted here. Come with me. My group will give you the opportunity to strike back at the people that tortured you."

Morrigan shifted uncomfortably, put off by the stranger with so much information on her. "I... I'm not going anywhere without my daughter."

"Of course," Joseph assured her. "Brigid is welcome to come along. I hear she has quite the pockets of energy. We could use her help to, and I am sure she'd be much safer with us than here."

Morrigan leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Who did you say sent you?"

----------------------------------------

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

"I didn't," Joe said, in a different base in another part of the country, this time with a fresh black eye. "I'm afraid that's confidential."

Jack Irons shifted in a similarly uncomfortable manner as Joe's last recruit. "Well, who do you work for?" he asked in his booming voice.

""That's confidential." Joe stated, still smiling.

"Where are you based?"

"That's confidential."

"What kind of organization..." Jack frowned. "You're not going to give me any information unless I agree to join you first, are you?"

"Listen, Jack." Joe folded his hands. "You'll be working on the same side you are now, doing the same thing, but with a better chance to stick it to the people that had you in that work camp the last four years. The people that brought ruin to this world. The people that... were responsible for the death of Brian Irons."

"You knew my father?" Jack asked.

"One of the best damn detectives ever, back when detectives and cops and the like existed," Joseph answered. "One of the smartest men I ever knew. I didn't find out until recently that he had died. I was looking for him. He's gone, but I come to learn his boy is a chip off the old block. You're the kind of man that can turn a handful of broken parts, two rubber bands, and a plastic cup into a plasma rifle."

"You have a talent for exaggeration," Jack commented, but smiled. "Tell you the truth, I was getting tired of sitting around here. Okay... I'm in."

"Great!" Joseph stood up, and motioned for him to follow. "Let's go."

Jack followed him out of the small base towards a drop ship. "Wait! I can't just leave. The rest of them won't be happy..."

"Payment has been taken care of, and all your stuff is on the plane. Come on!"

The pair took off, heading south. "Are we going far?" Jack asked. "And aren't you supposed to blindfold me or something?"

"Not far, and no, unless you really want me to." Joe leaned back, pulling out a little black book and crossing out a name. "Our base is mobile. We'll be moving once we get there."

Twenty minutes later, the pair were stepping off the dropship into the much larger ship that was the 'mobile base'. "Whoa," Jack muttered quietly.

"Welcome to the Avenger!" Joseph said triumphantly. "And welcome to XCOM!"

"This is XCOM?" Jack asked with a laugh. "Really?"

Joe grinned. "You've heard of us?"

"Only rumors," Jack answered. "Supposedly, you were the first resistance group that was destroyed twenty years ago.

As Joe led the man through the ship, he said, "I'm afraid we didn't exactly win, obviously, and news of our destruction was nearly accurate. There are very few of us left from the early years. But we have never given up, and acquiring this ship has put us in a position to finally pose a significant threat to ADVENT and the aliens."

"This ship must have cost you quite a bit." Jack looked around in wonder.

"Cost the Commander an arm and a leg," Joe answered grimly as they stepped into their destination. "You'll need to do some things here and there, but you'll primarily work here in engineering. I know you expertise is in weapon making, but you'll have to learn to do practically everything in engineering."

"I'm a fast learner," Jack said confidently. He grinned at the various machines and equipment he had previously only dreamed about having. "I think I'm going to like it here."

Joe nodded. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

Jack held up a hand. "If it's alright, I'd like to look around. See what I'll be working with. Who I'll be working with."

Joe pointed down the room. "Your boss should be right down there." He patted the man on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Despite his initial rough exterior, Jack had the smile of a child on Christmas morning, something he could appreciate being old enough to remember Christmas. He made his way to the back, but not before gawking at every piece of equipment along the way.

--------------------------------------

Joe let out a sigh as he fell onto his bed, beat after a full day's work. With Morrigan and now Jack along, things were looking up, but there were plenty more bunks to fill.

"Hey, dad. Nice shiner."

Joe opened his eyes and smiled at his purple-haired daughter. "Thanks, Alexis. I'm glad you like it. I'm sure the guy that gave it to me is a fan of it too."

"Do you want me to get you an ice pack?" asked his green-haired daughter. The two were a year apart, but other than the hair color and style, they could almost pass for twins.

"I'll be fine, Jennifer." Joe sat up. "I heard you were going to be in charge of autopsies and dissections once we have some aliens to do so with.

Alexis grinned. "She just wants to pay them back as much as possible, even after death. Sis has a really nutty revenge plan."

"It isn't anything like that!" Jennifer folded her arms. "But I'm not going to shy away from it either. I knew I would have to get my hands dirty when I started studying biology. And I'm eager to help the Commander any way I can. I look at this as an honor and a privilege."

"As you should." Joseph's smile dropped a little as he looked at his older daughter. "As for you..."

Alex sighed. "Stop being so butt hurt over this, dad! I'm twenty-three. I could have been a soldier years ago. And if I was there when we got this ship, maybe more of the Commander would have come back."

"You were fifteen. I don't care how desperate we are, I would never have allowed it. And I'm sure the Commander wouldn't either. It must be killing her to let her own daughter fight."

"But she is. And you should let me." Alexis knelt down in front of him. "I'll be fine. We all will be. It's not like we have enough people for Atka to be careless with. Trust her. Trust me. Please."

Joseph lightly kissed her forehead. "I will. We'll make quite the family team. I'll find 'em. Alex kills 'em. Jen dissects them and studies their tech."

Jennifer held out a hand. "For... for mother."

Alexis rolled her eyes at the cheesiness, but put her hand over Jen's. "Yeah. For mom."

Joseph joined them. "For your mother. She would be so proud of her darling angels."

 

[BMPixy]

“Scarred Face, Scarred Past”
Tijuana, New Mexico District
1234 Local; 25 May, 2038
Plaza Real, Ciudad De Olores

José sighed as he finished off his meager meal in the small plaza that marked the center of the district he called home. He found it nice to get out from the cramped quarters of Vasile’s shop for his lunch break, and the plaza did provide a breath of fresh air, plus - provided he found an out of the way spot - a lack of curious stares at his scars. Still, with his meal finished the boss would expect him back soon enough. Though, from a quick glance around the fairly deserted plaza, the Mexican mused if he could maybe get away with a quick siesta, even if the Romanian he worked for looked down on the concept of a midday nap.

José shook his head to dismiss the idea. No, last time he was caught napping had caused quite the chewing out, best not risk it. As José began packing up his trash, a light-skinned man dressed in simple clothing sat next to him - though not much mind was paid to him until the other man began to speak.

“The goal of war is not to die for your cause,” the man said in fluid English, glancing over at José with an expectant gaze.

“Hm? What… are you talking about?” José replied, in his slightly slower take on the tongue.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” the man said, hastily raising his hands defensively. “I thought you were someone else - I was supposed to meet a comrade here.”

“A… strange way to start a conversation, señor,” José noted, furrowing his brow in concern.

“Well, we’re a strange lot,” the man said with a shrug. Offering his hand to the Mexican, the man added, “You can call me Dali.”

“José,” the scarred man replied in turn, shaking the extended hand with a cautious grip.

“So, random observation, José,” Dali said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “but the fact that you’re out here in what’s left of this city says to me that you aren’t that fond of our overlords, eh?”

José cautiously glanced around, making sure that they were not being listened in on by any ADVENT towers before replying. “I… am not of good opinion on them, señor Dali,” he said meekly.

“Clever answer, kid.” Dali chuckled lightheartedly at the response, shaking his head slightly. “Now, how far would you go to enact those… not good opinions, José? What’d you be willing to stake at hitting back?” José was silent for a long, long minute as he pondered that. Flashes of memory poured through his mind - a stray round catching his mother in the throat, watching her drown upon her own blood as his siblings rose up against those responsible, and then being cut down with contemptuous ease by the mag bullets.

“I… I would die for that chance…” José shook his head. “No, I would… I would kill for it.”

“Well, how ‘bout a little offer then, José,” Dali said leaning in close. “You wait here with me to meet my comrade, we head off to my employers, and you get the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

With a rapidity that completely contradicted the contemplation the Mexican had replied to the last statement, José answered - a dark glint in his eye as he did so. “I accept.”

“Good, good. Welcome to the Founders, José.”

 

[BMPixy]

“The Daze of Our Lives”
Ruins of Bel-Air, West Coast District
1623 Local Time; January 3, 2036
The Crown Princes’ Base

The serene tune of a soundscape filtered through the small maintenance hall, through the small collection of technicals, smaller vehicles, and a couple of big rigs being torn up for scrap. Only the sound of wrenchwork disrupted the peaceful music, as a man lay underneath one of the technicals, toolbox at his side. A blue denim jumpsuit covered his slight girth, and a scraggly beard extended from his mouth down onto his neck - grey hairs beginning to peek through the mess. For a long minute, everything was peaceful, before a single utterance disturbed him.

“Oi, Giorgos, you in here!?” a deep voice shouted down the bay. Caught off guard, the man in question raised his head - and smacked it straight into the vehicle above him, prompting a heavy string of cursing at the pain. “Ah, there he is,” the voice added. With a sigh, Giorgos roughly shoved against the floor, the mechanic’s creeper sliding out from under the technical, bearing the Greco-American, a small welt beginning to form on his forehead from the impact. Looking out, he saw two figures approaching him, one familiar, the other less so.

“Nrgh,” Giorgos muttered, rubbing his head slightly as he stood up. “What’s going on, Jann, who’re they?” he asked, looking between the two individuals with an arched eyebrow.

The dark-skinned man on the left replied, “Right, I don’t think you ever met our contact - Giorgos this is Marie, our connection to the outside world. Probably for the best that she explain why she’s here.”

The woman nodded appreciatively, red hair bouncing as she did so. “Recently got a priority one signal from the top - they’re putting out a recruitment call, looking for anyone qualified,” Marie explained.

“The top?” Giorgos asked. “I thought us resistances were decentralized.”

“We are, technically speaking,” Marie answered, “but who do you think set up the network we use? Hell, who do you think even kickstarted pretty much every resistance this side of the Atlantic?”

“Don’t tell me you’re saying…” Giorgos asked, worry crossing his face as he pondered the implications.

“Yep, The Founders are starting to come back,” Marie said, her features lighting up with a grin, “and more importantly, Jay and the rest of your leadership have been doing a little talking on who - if anyone - they’re going to send to join ‘em.”

“I’m it, aren’t I?” Giorgos responded, sighing heavily.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Jann offered, leaning against the technical Giorgos was working on a short while ago.

“No, no, it’s probably for the best that I do,” the Greco-American said, rubbing the back of his neck depressively. “After all, you guys chose me, and I do as I’m told. When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Marie answered, a cheeky grin crossing her face, “though I recommend you pack first - don’t want to get too excited and forget something, Mr. Melancholy.” If Giorgos had a biting comment with which to reply to that, he didn’t share it.

------

Aboard the Avenger, New Mexico District
2100 Local; May 27, 2038

“Seriously, that’s why you joined?” Marcus asked, setting down his beer to look the Maintenance Chief in the eye.

“Not all of us have stories of romance and adventure, Mark,” Giorgos replied with a shrug. “You asked for why I joined XCOM, don’t complain if it doesn’t match your expectations. If you want those kind of stories, go ask the soldiers. I’m just a man with a forgettable job and a forgettable life.”

“Alright then, I guess,” the other maintenance tech said. “How ‘bout another question - why’d you join that resistance in LA?”

“I had nothing left,” Giorgos answered. “My wife left me, I lost my job, and I was content with just dying then and there out in the Ruins. The Princes found me, helped me back up, and so I started doing maintenance for them - least I could do, I figured.”

“Jeez, you’re a real downer, aren’t you?”

“You asked for it,” Giorgos said, taking the time to knock back a long draught of beer. As he set the glass down with a satisfying clink he took a quick look at his watch and muttered a curse. “Should get going, need to see if that converter down in the labs got fixed or not. Later.” With that, the Greco-American pushed himself off of the chair, and slowly made his way out of the bar.

 

[BMPixy]

“The Burgers of Alfons Van Der Akker”
SW Beijing, East Asia District
1317 Local; 30 May, 2038
New Dawn Bar & Grill (Franchise No. 2143), Yímínzhèn

The New Dawn Bar & Grill was a rather popular locale among the local ADVENT soldiers - at least the human ones, though occasionally a curious Viper might slither by - mostly due to the generous discounts and the wide variety of international dishes appealing to those troopers stationed far from home.

And because of all those glowing recommendations from his staff, Alfons found himself entering the building, all bright colors, shiny chrome finishes, relaxing music, and carousing of men and women glad to be off-duty. And all that came crashing to a stop as soon as he was recognized.

“Lord Commander!” a soldier barked, snapping to attention and striking a salute with a speed that nearly knocked his comrade’s drink over. Throughout the room, men and women, troopers and officers, stun lancers and shieldbearers alike, all raced to get to a respectable state as quickly as possible- though some were foiled by the food still hanging from their mouth, not even having the chance to bite into it.

“Well, so much for subtlety,” Alfons murmured to himself. “At ease everyone,” the ADVENT commander ordered with a wave of the hand. With that, the bar settled into something resembling the state it had been prior to the Lord-Commander’s arrival - though there was a noticeable tension in the air regarding his presence. However, if Alfons noticed the change in atmosphere, he did not comment on it. Instead, he took a seat at the diner’s counter, and just a moment later a large, balding man with a prosthetic arm approached him, ready to take his order.

“What can I do you for?” the man asked, readying his pen.

“Hmm, let me think...” Alfons said, glancing up at the multi-lingual menu that stretched across the wall. “I would like some water… and give me your best hamburger, if you would.”

“As you wish, sir,” the man replied, scribbling down the order and sliding it into the kitchen. As the waiter poured the man his water, Alfons raised his voice slightly.

“That’s an old prosthetic you have there,” Akker said, nodding his head at the limb. “You could probably get it upgraded to a newer model with the money you make here.”

“As acute as your observation is sir, there are… reasons I have not adjusted it,” the server answered.

“Memories?” Alfons asked, leaning forward on the counter slightly as the man nodded somberly. “Let me guess, you were one of us, no? And probably from the early days as well, too.”

“How’d you guess?” The waiter folded his arms as he leaned against the rear wall, waiting for the Lord-Commander’s answer.

“The prosthetic, the way you move, the generous discount, and that photo tucked behind the ketchup bottles,” Alfons replied, gesturing at each in turn.

“Huh, was wondering where that went,” the former soldier replied, glancing over to spot the hidden photo. “I’ll have to talk with the wife ‘bout hiding my stuff away like that. But yeah, you have a good eye for detail, sir - though I expect that comes with your position.”

“Yeah, one of the traits I’ve had to pick up the hard way,” Alfons replied with a shrug. “So what’d you do in your time?”

“Me? I was a code talker - back before our superiors all had translators, they had me. Priorbus and Seripan could usually get along just fine, but you ever see a Balmadaar try to speak French?” the man asked, an amused smirk on his face.

“I can probably have it arranged for me, but that’d be a waste of resources,” Alfons answered. “Though I imagine it isn’t the best for PR, right?”

“Nah, actually helped with the big, bruiser image they’re shooting for,” the waiter replied. A small bell rang on the window behind him, and he turned to grab the burger that slid out. “Well, here you are, one ADVENT Burger for the man behind the best part of ADVENT.”

“I look forward to seeing what you have done to it,” Alfons replied with a hungry grin as the plate was slid in front of him. However, at that moment his commpiece began beeping madly. With an annoyed grunt, the Danish-American tapped his earpiece. “What is it?” he muttered.

“Lord-Commander,” the voice on the other end replied, “you told me to alert you when the prisoner came to, and well, she has.”

“Right, gotcha, I’ll be there in… ten minutes. Akker out,” the ADVENT leader said, not waiting for a reply as he tapped his commpiece once more. “Guess I’ll need a box,” he murmured dejectedly at his meal.

------

“John, James, and Judas, this burger is good!” Alfons murmured between bites as walked down the halls of the ADVENT facility, burger in one hand and a napkin in the other. “I should see about going there again.” As he ate, he took a turn, went down a flight of stairs, and slid through a key-card secured door to a place that most of the people on the surface didn’t know existed - the interrogation cells.

“Ah, Lord-Commander, you are here!” a Captain exclaimed, snapping to attention along with the troopers to his left. “The prisoner is prepared for your visit - do you, ah, wish to finish your meal before seeing her?”

“Nah, let’s just get this over with,” Alfons replied with a shake of his head. “Open the gate.”

“Understood,” the Captain replied, punching in a combination into the keypad to his right. With a pneumatic hiss, the alloy-reinforced steel door slid open, and Alfons stepped in, followed closely by both of the troopers. Inside was a simple cell that took up the back half of the room, though the gentle glow between the bars indicated that there was more than metal keeping the prisoner in her cage. Inside the cell huddled a small, petite woman, who glanced up at the new entrants with terrified eyes.

“Please… no more... “ the woman whispered, burying her face in between her knees.

“You’ll have to speak up to make any requests, friend,” Alfons replied, taking a bite of his burger. After he chewed thoroughly and swallowed, he added, “Who knows, if they’re reasonable suggestions, I might just see about getting them implemented.”

“Just, just please stop it,” the prisoner said, stronger this time. “I-I can’t take it anymore… I’ll do anything you ask! J-just please stop the torture!”

“Torture’s a strong word, y’know,” Alfons said, pulling up a chair. “I prefer ‘compliance assurance’, to be quite honest. Don’t you guys agree?” he added, looking between the two troopers, who nodded uneasily. “Well, majority rules, that wasn’t torture,” Aflons said, taking a bite from his burger.

“Y-you… you a-are m-monsters…”

“Really?” Alfons asked, arching an eyebrow. “Huh, I can’t remember the last time ADVENT blew up civilians to get at someone who wasn’t even there, or killed a whole bunch of troopers just for doing their job, but hey, apparently you’re the expert on who is and isn’t a monster. I mean, when was the last time your precious rebels opened up a medical clinic?”

“B-but w-what about those p-people…? A-all th-those missing?” the woman replied. A cruel smirk crossed Alfons’s face as she said that, and he took the time to finish off his burger before he answered.

“Well, some of them we press into service, others we kill. Some we keep for information, and a lucky few get sent off to our glorious masters for whatever it is they do,” he said with a shrug too casual for the situation. “But you? Well, you’re just here for shits and giggles - and once we’re finished with you your buddies in Taiwan will find themselves with a rather severe mole infestation. But don’t worry, by the time that happens, well… you won’t care what happens to them.”

 

[Dahlexpert]

Carrying a legacy

North American Continent
Former United States of America
Resistance Base in Alaska

Lilith sat in front of Luke wondering to herself how her nephew is doing. “So Luke how does it feel to be a part of something bigger than yourself?”

“It feels weird, I mean the guns, the training, taking orders, doing the same thing over and over and over again… I’m not sure how to describe it. I want to say I like it but I’m not sure, our leader said that I’m a natural born solder - like I was born to do this.”

“Well that’s not surprising you’re a Van Dam after all. Fighting is in our blood we were made to fight and so were you. I’m just glad that the alien influence hasn’t made you soft. You know, if the aliens didn’t win the war back then I could see you joining the old military. You don’t seem like a mercenary type.”

“Yea about that… um Aunt Lilith, what was our tribe like? You keep mentioning that we were this band of warriors and hunters what were they like?”

“Well we used to be a band of hunters originally, then we joined the outside world and joined the military and eventually became mercenaries, but we took our training from the military and applied it to how we trained. Hell we used to survive out here in Alaska - our home much further north than this. We used to take any environment that we were in and use it to our advantage we made bows and arrows out of wood and vines. We could survive anywhere and if they were still around they would give the aliens a good fight and give the resistance many victories.”

Luke looked intrigued about learning more about his tribe. “So what happened to our people? If they were so great - I mean the way you talked about them they sound like people this ‘Founder’ people can use - they sound like great guerilla fighters. Ones that according to you could be placed any wear and could give the aliens an actual fight. So what happened to them?”

Lilith looked at Luke with pain in her face. “After the aliens defeated XCOM they saw our people as a threat as one that would not go down willingly. They saw us and said ‘this is a race of people that will not believe us they will not surrender so there is only one course of option’.”

“They killed them didn’t they, they killed all of them huh why did our people fight instead of surrender? Why not just join the aliens like so many others?” Luke asking wondering why his people were so bull-headed.

“They fought because, they would rather go extinct then live in a world were not only humanity showed how pathetic they truly are but they would never let the aliens take our home not without a fight at least. Look, Luke… our people were bullheaded, stubborn, and loved a good fight. You may not understand it but you will one day. One day you will become a great fighter like those before you like your mom and dad and many others in our tribe.”

“That sounds like a lot of responsibility for someone that knows literally nothing about their own people. How am I supposed to fix our people create a tribe? I’m no leader.”

Lilith put her hand on Luke’s head almost to calm him down. “Honey you don’t have to be a leader, I’m not even asking you to lead. I’m telling you to be strong - stronger then you ever been in your life. I’m asking you to fight with everything you have to never surrender like the rest of those soft blooded fools out there. I want you to fight even when there is nothing lef.t I want you to tell the aliens: ‘Hey those tribe of hunters you killed? You missed one.’ I want you not to fight for revenge for the death of my sister nor your mother and father. I want you to fight because you’re the last true warrior of our species. Am I clear?”

Luke nodded his head, agreeing with his aunt.

“Good.” Lilith reached into her pockets and wrapped dog tags around Luke’s neck. “This is your mom and dad’s dog tags; they wanted me to give these to you before they went on their last assignment. “They would have been proud of you. Now then we should get back to training.”

Luke watched his mom leaving and looked down at his parent’s dog tags. “You know I may not have known you two long, but I will try to make you two proud. Hell, I’m probably doing you proud right now huh? I’m not sure about the rest of my people, but as long as I’m here and fighting well that’s better than nothing.” Luke feels someone touching his shoulders and hearing someone say ‘we’re proud of you’ but when he turned around there was no one there.

Luke began to smile and put his parent’s dog tags around his neck. “Heh alright you two I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

 

[Frostlich1228]

European Continent
Former Federal Republic of Germany
Specifically, the Berlin Megacity
Afternoon of May 14th, 2038
1631 Hours, Local Time

The blue lights of the city center bar in Berlin cast an unnatural hue over the people inside. There weren't many affected by the glow in all truth, as Virtual Reality Capsules were the mainstay of this particular nightclub. The few that were actually having a drink were too somber or not sober enough to pay attention to the young woman that walked in.

Catherine looked down at the time, place, and date, that had been written on the card her parents gave her. She was in the right place alright, she just needed to find out where her contact was. The most logical place would be the bar, the person running it must have heard something, Catherine concluded.

The young woman didn't feel all that uncomfortable here, Mary and Sarah had snuck her out of the orphanage quite a few times to sneak into places like this, through vents, usually, but as soon as they ran into someone sober enough to realize the children obviously didn't belong there, they were removed. As she walked to towards the bar, some of the drunks gave her a long look, but she just took in a long breath and kept walking. Maybe she shouldn't have thought about not feeling all that uncomfortable here, because she was certainly getting there now, her trips with Mary were years ago, after all.

She put on her usual smile as she rolled up to the bar, which helped her forget her growing nervousness, "Hello sir! Uh... I heard uh... Rumor I could come here to help... Make a difference... Do you think you could help me find out how?"

A black gloved hand waved over at her from one of the padded lobby chairs. "Over here," a man in a black citizen's jacket and a gray and white uniform called out quietly to her. "Catherine Thomas, right?" The native German asked, seeming to size her up as he rubbed his scraggly beard in thought.

"Yep, that's me all right!" She replied as soon as she reached him, "Ooh, you look fancy, you must be a secret agent!"

The man raised an eyebrow incredulously. "I may be... what exactly can you do, Miss Thomas?"

The young woman takes a seat opposite to the man, her smile growing, "Well, I can cook like nobody's business! Just give me a knife and a cutting board and I'm at it like a kitchen ninja! Oh... Uh... And my mom taught me a bit about taking care of people, you know, medicine and stuff."

"Well... the former is only so useful but the latter will make up for it." The man eyed her seriously. "You have a long way to go, but the Resistance needs everyone they can get." He folded his hands together. "I can get you out of the city. I'll give you a train ticket to the Outskirts and my man there can take you to a ride."

He cleared his throat. "People that sent me aren't part of some normal outfit. I doubt you're aware, but the people that founded the Resistance Communications Network are nigh-legendary. And apparently they need recruits. So that's who you'll be going with, to where even I don't know. But if you're willing to contribute in the fight for freedom, I'll send you on your way."

"Well... What about my parents? Will... Will they be safe?" She swallowed, her smile fading.

The man sighed. "That is the question, isn't it? There's a high probability you'll be listed as a suspected terrorist after this, and they might be interrogated for it. So you may want to have them get out of the city if you want to be sure. No one in these places is safe."

Her smile quickly dropped and her mind filled with doubts about going through with it, "Can I do that? Can I help get them out? Or into a safehouse or something?"

"I can have them leave Berlin with you, and go to one of the towns outside the direct reach of ADVENT. If they can't easily locate your parent's they won't waste their time trying to track them down."

"You can!?" Catherine reached forward and briefly wrapped her arms around him, "Thank you! You really did make me worry for a second there!"

What is with this woman? "Anyway," continued, gently rebuffing her and handing her three tickets. "These should get you out of the city. Once you get off at the train station my associate will meet you there and guide you out of the Outskirts. Just don't act suspicious and work with us and this will go smoothly. Most of all, do not talk to any ADVENT soldiers you run into. If they demand some sort of explanation let my friend handle it."

"Right, thank you!" Her eyes perking up.

"Oh!" She exclaimed as she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small sugar cookie nestled in a plastic bag, and passed it to him from the other side of the table, "I made this for whoever was here to meet me, you know, as thanks."

"Well... Thank you then." He chuckled, and said earnestly, "If nothing else you're going to be moral support for the old dogs in that group. Good luck."

"Thanks..."

Catherine said, giving him a wave as she stuffed the ticket into her pocket, heading out of the club and off in the direction of the local train station with a excited skip in her step.

 

[Frostlich1228]

Part 2

After a few close calls with ADVENT, Catherine arrived with her escorts to some sort of overgrown building. The place looks like it had been unoccupied for years, with vines crawling up every wall and plenty of broken windows, however as they closed in, she could hear talking and movement from the inside.

She stood outside the door on the porch, as her escort casually walked up behind her.

"Well, this is the place," the woman in black covert ops gear said. "I think some Russian guy we picked up is due to arrive in a few minutes... Once we have him you and the others should be good for takeoff."

"Takeoff?" Catherine asked, visibly shaking with excitement, "TAKEOFF?! ARE WE GOING TO FLY IN A PLANE?"

"Quiet...! Do you want the entirety of the Coalition to hear you? Go inside, you'll see in time," the woman said irritably before going off to wait for the truck carrying a 'Marx Tvarnov' to the area.

A truck pulled up to the area after a few minutes, grinding to a halt and ripping up dirt from the ground. The driver turned and spoke to the men in the back, "Here we are..."

After a few seconds, a Marx pulled himself out of the truck and walked towards the derelict house, he was familiar with such crumbling establishments, living in the ruin of a former town. He stopped in front of the woman, holding out his hand in greeting, "Marx, you?"

"My name? Emmeline," the covert operative answered. "Welcome to the staging ground."

Marx looked the structure over once more, "Reminds me of home..."

He quickly abandoned that painful thought and looked back towards the woman, "So, if this is a staging ground, I'm guessing its not the actual base, maybe more like a pit stop, right?"

"You could say that, yeah. Follow me, I've got an announcement to make." The woman straightened her black ponytail and walked inside the decaying building.

She addressed the gathered people - about eight Europeans and two people with Middle Eastern origins. "You all are here because of one primary reason. You might be skilled, or have a lot of potential, but above all else you have the guts to act in defiance of ADVENT and leave what you had behind for the promise of making a difference. I just want to remind you that while you may have already unwittingly passed it, this is the obvious point of no turning back. Those of you from the Megacities, you can never return without being investigated and arrested or mindwiped. Those of you from the Outskirts and Shanties know you're already under some level of suspicion."

A woman in a flight suit wearing a customized pilot's helmet with an air-cooled mouthpiece and gold goggles hopped down from a creaky stairwell to the roof. "What Emmy's trying to say is there's no returning to your old lives. Thanks for joining the Resistance." She bowed slightly. "Name's Danielle Slater. Go by the callsign Firebrand. I'll be your airbus pilot for today. Just follow me up to the roof. Any quick questions before we go? Got long ones? Save 'em for the flight."

Catherine raised her hand, "Uh... Miss, what exactly is a Mindwipe? That sounds pretty bad..."

Marx simply shook her head, "They wipe your mind, that's the jist of it..."

"But like... How?" She replied slowly.

"Psionics," Emmeline answered. "They advertise getting tested in Berlin all the time. Though if you just ignored all the ads I wouldn't really blame you."

"I never really left my house much... Guess I can thank my Mom and Dad for that one..." She rubbed her neck.

Another hand flew up, this one from an elegant looking woman with polished nails and long, flowing hair, "Well, now that that's out of that way... Where exactly are we going now?"

"HQ. Location Classified for Now in the general vicinity of You'll See," Firebrand said with a grin beneath her helmet. She motioned for the recruits to follow, and then went back up the stairs. There didn't appear to be anything on the roof as first glance had previously discerned, but then Danielle pulled out what was essentially a set of car keys, clicked a button, and an experimental dropship faded into view. "Viola, say hi to the Skyranger Mark Two."

Marx nodded, clearly impressed, "That's a hell of a ship, you guys make it yourselves?"

"Not the whole thing, didn't have the resources at the time," Firebrand explained as she opened the hatch and went in. "Stealth tech is totally our addition though."

As the soldiers followed her inside, Cathy had a massive, wondrous smile on her face. Marx seemed sincerely impressed by the interior, but it didn't show externally.

The elegant woman walked in last, giving her thoughts aloud as she entered, "I'm beginning to get the impression that this isn't any run of the mill resistance group..."

"We're not." The pilot opened the door to the cockpit as a few sat down in the row of four seats on either side adding up to eight. "Two of you can come in the front seats up here, we've got a full flight."

Catherine gladly took the offer, mostly wanting a better view, whereas Marx took the seat as a result of his charity towards the other passengers, giving the seats he could've taken to them instead.

The young woman smiled a Firebrand, "It's great to meet you Miss Slater! You can just call me Cathy, my full name can be a little to formal sometimes."

"Suits me," the pilot replied, getting ready for takeoff. "And you don't need to be all that formal with me... pretty sure you're older than I am. Just make sure to keep with protocol with the boss. She can be a stickler for the rules."

Cathy leaned in, "Ooohh... The Boss! Who's she, what's her name?"

Firebrand finished her preparations, and began kicking the ship's plasma engines into action. The craft slowly rose into the air. "That would be Commander Atka Ipiktok. Don't worry if that doesn't ring any bells; there's no way it would. None of the founding members of this little band of renegades technically exist."

"So..." Catherine pondered, "You're ghosts!?"

Marx chuckled slightly with a dead tone, wondering if she was kidding or she was really that stupid, "They made themselves disappear you idiot, not much else you can do when just about the whole damn world wants to kill you."

Cathy pouted, "Hey! What's your problem with me, huh?"

He sighed, "This is going to be a really long flight..."

 

[Frostlich1228]

Part 3

Catherine sat in the Skyranger, amazed at the sights around her. She could easily see outside from where she was sitting, but she had plenty of time to take it in already, the interior of the ship was a dull metallic grey and she had no idea what any of the gadgets inside even did. Instead, she was looking at the people. It amazed her to see all these people, gathered here to help fight off the alien forces and reclaim the world as it was. Even though almost all of them were European, the fact didn’t seem to quell her internal amazement. Meanwhile, Marx took a look around himself, catching the elegant woman from before staring lustfully towards him, but he paid her little mind.

As the ship slowly docked into the commandeered alien vessel, Catherine's excitement bubbled; what would the interior look like, she wondered. However, as the door opened her heart was hit with a twang of disappointment. The interior of the ship was the same sickly grey as on the transport vessel, the layout was very practical, caring little for decoration or flair of any kind. The entire space just felt somber and almost unsettling for the young girl, with the only patch of color being the bright blue that shined off a huge display of the planet that she had noticed while a soldier kindly offered to help her locate her new quarters.

Catherine smiled brightly at the man, who gave her a grin back. "So, how long have you been here?" Cathy asked with a friendly tone.

He replied quickly, "Only a few days, but that's plenty of time to get used to the lay of this place, it isn't that big yet."

"Well, I look forward to getting to know you... Uh... Mr. Guard!"

He chuckled, replying, "It's Damien, and I’m not a guard, we don’t have guards here.”

"Not anymore," Catherine smirked slyly, " Your name's going to be Mr. Guard from now on..."

He rolled his eyes at the woman, "Alright, but only if I get to call you Miss... Doctor? Right?"

"Good guess, but that's only my secondary position, I'm mostly going to be in the cafeteria."

He nodded slightly, "A cook huh? Well we could always use more of those, lunch is me and my friends favorite time of day, especially on this ship."

"Then I promise to do the absolute best that I can for all of your friends!" She replied energetically.

"I'll hold you to that, Ms. Chef."

As they reached the room, Damien opened the door to a rather small space with four bunk beds squeezed to fit perfectly on both sides, allowing easy access to the lockers in the back of the room, one for each bed. Adjacent to the lockers was a sliding door that was the same grey as the rest of the ship's walls. Cathy didn't expect anything different after walking through some of the others rooms in the ship on the way here, it wasn't exactly a shock that the room was the same grey. She turned towards the man and quickly asked about the door and where it led.

"To the changing room, no where special,” Damien replied, "They had to combine them with the main rooms to save space, and you can’t exactly walk all the way down to the showers or a bathroom every time you want to switch outfits.”

"So... I'm going to be bunking with only other girls? I've never roomed with another-" She said, cutting herself off after she saw him shake his head.

"Oh..." Catherine replied slowly, managing to keep her smile on her face.

"Hey, don't worry," Damien reassured her, "There are... curtains between the different rooms... And most people only use it one at a time anyway, so... It's not that bad..."

"I'm okay..., It may be different than what I'm used to, but I'm not going to let a co-ed changing room upset me now that I can finally help change the world, I'll be a'okay!" She said, hopping up on the top bunk of the bed closest to the door, claiming it as her own.

Mr Guard's smile returned, "Well, I’m going to go show some other people around, I hope you enjoy your time here, alright?" With that remark, he left the girl in the room alone.

Catherine laid back, looking all around the room, a million ideas flying through her head. She closed her eyes slowly, falling asleep after the long trip. Right before she succumbed to the long journey from her home to here, she spoke quietly to herself, "I'm going to paint this entire place rainbow..."

She giggled, "This is gunna' be great..."

Meanwhile Marx took a stroll through the ship with some of the other soldiers he rode here with, including the elegant girl from before, other soldiers joined the group as they all walked and talked, heading in the direction of the shared bunk area. Of course, the elegant looking woman gravitated towards him, eyeing him up and down. After a while of ignoring this, he finally spoke, “Can I help you?”

She backed off a second, “No need to be so hostile, just admiring the view…”

“I’d much prefer if you didn’t… I’m not here to flirt and get with women…” He rolled his eyes, responding.

“Well, that’s hardly very fun… I’m Krystal, and you’re Marx right? I heard them say they were expecting you back at the staging ground, but I certainly didn’t expect this…”

He sighed, figuring if he didn’t answer the woman she clearly wouldn’t go away, “You’d be right… Now, don’t you need to find your room?”

“Okay, big guy, no need to get pushy with a lady... “ She said, turning back towards the room numbers on the wall.

As they passed more and more, he finally found what he was looking for, his bunk number, but as he was about to set up, Krystal walked up behind him.

“Well, I guess that’s fate, huh?” She smirked, looking down at the number she had written down.

Hopefully his other bunkmates would be a little more bearable, he thought to himself, but that hope was trounced as he saw Catherine accidentally roll off the top bunk and onto the ground in front of them, giving them a lighthearted ‘whoops’ from the floor.

 

[Taxor_the_First]

No One Expects the Elder Inquisition

“Ranenny Glaz” (Wounded Eye), Shanty in the vicinity of Moscow, Russia

18th May, 2038


Samuel cursed, the screw he had been fumbling with falling down the back of the bench. “Blasted…” He crouched down and began running a hand around beneath the table, searching for the screw by touch.

His adoptive father ceased midway through playing his guitar to chuckle at the display. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be affected by this bloody cold,” he said. “You’re the native here, not me.”

“I’m human,” Samuel said, grunting as he extended his hand further. “Besides which, I’m handling cold metal. You’re handling…” He paused. “What are guitar strings made out of again?”

Isaac shrugged. “I dunno. Light metals. Some synthetic material. Depends on the make.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling when his ‘son’ withdrew his hand, screw clasped within. “I’m glad you’re learning about weaponry with hands-on dismantling and reassembly, but I will admit it’s… somewhat worrying.”

“What, you think I’m going to go join Chloe? Follow Alan into the Resistance?” The Russian scoffed. “Not likely. I’m not throwing my life away struggling against ADVENT. Not unless we have a decent chance of winning.” He turned back to the rifle he was working on, replacing the screw with a few twists of the screwdriver.

“Good,” Isaac said. “I… well, I wouldn’t be distraught if you did. If I was, that would be a little hypocritical, wouldn’t it? At least you’re making your own decision about the matter.”

Samuel lifted the rifle, an assault rifle from a time long gone. A time when ADVENT didn’t exist. A time when the concept of visitors from the stars was the stuff of fantasy. A time when he had a family. This was as much a relic of the past as the man sitting behind him. “Yeah, well,” he said quietly. “We both know how that worked out for Alan’s mother. Is she still…?”

His father shifted awkwardly. “She still won’t talk to me,” he said. “At this point I think she just wants to keep her head in the sand. Pretend nothing’s happening. If her son dies out there, that’ll be the day she moves to Moscow.”

“Mmm.” The Russian replaced the weapon in its case, clipping the locks on and stepping back. “Do you think he will?”

Isaac remained silent. “Unless something changes,” he said after a moment, “yes. Regardless of what they’ve done before, or who’s in charge of who, or what tech they have… they’re fighting a losing war. Have been since the day I found you.”

“All the more reason to stay safe at home then, isn’t it?” Samuel said with a smirk. He turned back to the bench, this time pulling a shotgun up and beginning to dismantle it. His father watched him for a while before picking up his electric guitar again, attempting to resume playing. He glanced at the screen on the table before him briefly, and froze, an icy hand winding its way up his neck. He swallowed, and lowered his guitar again.

A small convoy. One single prisoner transport, with two cars escorting it. As he watched them through the lens of the camera set up a street away, the cars and truck stopped, the convoy grinding to a halt in the middle of the snowy street. In that moment he knew for certain. There was no one else worth their attention nearby, after all.

Slowly, resigned, he lowered his guitar and picked up another, acoustic this time, and settled it across his lap, resting his hand across its strings. With the finality of a judge’s gavel slamming down, he strummed a single chord. People interested in music some time ago would have recognized it as the opening chord to the song Roundabout.

Samuel’s back immediately tensed, and he turned around, an odd expression on his face. As he continued to play, Isaac stared back at his ‘son’, etching the details into his mind. “Shit, you’re serious,” Samuel whispered, before hurriedly making his way over to a closet on the wall, opening it and revealing it to be empty. He took one last look at his adoptive father before entering the closet’s confines, closing the doors and sealing himself inside.

He watched through the slit in the door, breathing heavier than normal. That particular song was a signal, one to hide within the house somewhere. There were a number of songs Isaac had assigned for certain purposes, this one being for when there wasn’t enough time for either of them to escape the house without being seen or followed. And so Samuel waited, trying to regulate his breathing.

The door to the houses’ entrance, a room or so over, could be heard being busted down. Isaac stopped playing, placing the guitar next to his other one and standing, though he remained behind the table he’d been seated at. He stared forward as the door before him was also kicked down, an ADVENT trooper sporting a rifle with a searchlight on it moving through with the weapon raised. They shouted something in whatever language they spoke, a strange jabbering that drew the attention of another trooper. Isaac sighed, shaking his head. “I thought I was worth more than just you two,” he muttered, before kicking the table before him up onto its edge, instantly converting it into cover. He ducked beneath it as magnetically accelerated bullets whizzed over the top, and then attempted to punch through the wood.

He smiled, safe, as they kept firing at the table itself. “I knew that alloy undercoating was worth the trouble,” he said, before rising with the old LMG attached to the underside in his hands. He sprayed a number of bullets at his foes, killing one after a few finally broke through their armor. The other backed off, firing a few parting shots before taking cover in the doorway. Isaac grunted in response, taking the time waiting for reinforcements to rest the LMG in his hands on the edge of the flipped table. “This is hardly fair,” he called out, taunting the ADVENT forces presumably waiting outside. “At this rate I’m easily going to win!”

Two troopers burst in, one surviving the onslaught Isaac sent at him. A Captain followed, calling out directions and pointing. Cursing, the fugitive ducked back behind the table, grabbing a revolver sitting beneath his couch and waiting. “I mean really, I would have thought you’d send more after me. This is barely even a token effort!” he shouted.

Do not think you seen your enemy’s hand, a voice echoed within his head, for we have yet to play it.

Isaac’s blood ran cold. “… an Elder?” he asked himself, bewildered. Poking his head above the table, he was forced back down by reactive fire. But he’d confirmed it – standing in the doorway, flanked by two more troopers, was a robed Elder. “Alright, maybe that’s worse than a few troops and a Captain.”

You were correct, the Elder stated. Someone of your… profile warrants more than a simple squad.

“Hence why you’re here.”

The Elder inclined their head, though Isaac could not see the motion. Indeed. You may no longer be the human Overseer, but someone of your caliber is more my domain.

“Your domain?” Isaac glanced to the sides, making sure the troopers weren’t trying to distract him while they flanked him. “And who are you, exactly? I thought the Elders were leaders, the kind that don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

If the Elder was offended by the remark, they did not show it. I am Coatl’Promethoth, Elder Inquisitor. I have… lent my services to the ADVENT Coalition in their enquiries to find prominent dissidents and assist in the weeding out and capture of various important members of your ‘Resistance’.

The former Overseer scoffed at that. “Prominent? You’re wasting your time here, then. I don’t involve myself with anything like that anymore.”

Yes. I’m certain you are a model citizen, the Inquisitor responded. However, a few questions from myself will confirm that.

“Coatl’Promethoth…” Isaac murmured, running the name through his mind. “I know of you. Resistance calls you Azazel. Well, they did a few years ago. Not sure if they call you something more insulting now.”

‘Azazel’ did not react to the comment. As I said before, I will require you to come with me. I have a few questions I wish to ask you regarding the identities of members of the Resistance, as well as a few other details I suspect you may be able to help me with.

“So you’re placing me under arrest? What, so you can kill me in your own home?”

The Elder was silent. Explain yourself, he said after a moment.

“I’m not stupid. My options here are limited to two – either I die here resisting you now, or I die elsewhere by a firing squad later. Neither is looking particularly appealing to me.”

My superiors would prefer you brought in alive. You can still be useful to us. Azazel shrugged, an odd action for a being such as him. But it matters little to me where you chose to dig your grave. This choice is entirely yours to make. The nearby ADVENT Captain looked at him, and he stared back.

 

[Taxor_the_First]

Isaac, however, missed the exchange. “And why would I prolong the inevitable, as it were? What’s in it for me?”

The Elder broke his gaze from the Captain and moved it elsewhere, seemingly gazing off into the distance. Samuel, still locked in the cupboard, shrank back a little. It was like he was looking at him. Of course, it would be much harder for me to take you alive, Azazel mused, as if he had not heard the question. You are a dangerous individual. Even if you surrendered, I would need to take the majority of my loyal enforcers with me to ensure you did not attempt to escape on the way to the vehicle.

The fugitive’s gaze switched to the cupboard, resting there for a moment, before nodding. “Aye, that you would,” he said. “You never know what I could have up my sleeve.” He sighed. “Alright. I’m coming out, hands up, guns away.”

That would be optimal, the Elder replied, though he did not seem in any way elated by the resolution.

True to his word, Isaac toppled his two weapons over the top of the table before standing up himself, arms raised. Two ADVENT trooper rushed forward, rifles up, while another brought out a set of handcuffs, restraining him in the process. The captive glanced over at another bench along the far wall, where two picture frames rested. “I don’t suppose I could take those with me?” he asked. One of the troopers poked him – hard – in the ribs with their rifle. “Take that as a no,” he muttered, stepping out from behind his cover at the insistent pushing of the trooper holding his arms.

He took one last look behind him before he was pushed out, disappearing from Samuel’s life with an odd finality. Behind him, the Elder resumed his staring match with the ADVENT Captain. Was there some aspect of my negotiation you took issue with? he asked, his gaze level. The Captain merely saluted and walked out. Azazel watched them go before turning his gaze to his two bodyguard troopers. Search the building, he instructed. He was not meant to be alone here. If there is someone else, take them into custody and hold them until I return. He turned his head again until his gaze rested on the cupboard in which Samuel hid, before he moved away with a swish of his robes, his shadow seeming to linger in the doorway before following.

Samuel did not relax. There were still the two troopers in the room. ADVENT troopers were hardly geniuses, however. Hopefully an opportunity would arise…

The troopers began browsing the room, doing things like checking under benches and moving the couch away from the wall to check behind it. Intelligent, maybe not. Methodical, however… Samuel’s breath hitched slightly as one passed in front of him, plunging the inside of his cupboard into darkness for a moment. The trooper did not seem to hear him, however, passing by to check the back of the room. As he did so, Samuel’s eyes alighted on his father’s surrendered weaponry. It was that or nothing, really. Previous experience had taught him that attempting to use ADVENT made weaponry was typically a bad idea, considering the electric shock usually associated with such an action.

He heard footsteps approaching again, and tensed. A plan was made, one that relied on the element of surprise. The LMG would slow him down, which left the revolver. Six shots, but with the armor these troops were wearing that could mean anywhere from six to no kills. He’d break out, tackle the nearby trooper, dive for the revolver, shoot the other, shoot the first while they recovered, then make a break for it. He would have preferred a shotgun, but how hard could using a revolver be?

The closest trooper passed in front of him again, this time seeming to register the cupboard as a potential hiding place. Samuel breathed in as they approached. Out of time.

He burst through the door, crashing into the trooper and bringing them to the ground. The trooper gibbered something in alarm, and the other trooper swung around. A few mag-accelerated bullets smacked into the wooden floorboards, but Samuel was already diving away. He grabbed the revolver, rolled to a stop, and fired, the bullet piercing through the trooper’s helmet and killing them. Huh. So that’s why he likes these so much.

The other trooper began to stand up, retrieving their own rifle and aiming it. There was no time to take aim and attempt to shoot back, Samuel realized. Only time for one thing.

Run.

So he did, tearing out of the door with bullets following him. He moved sideways, away from the front door, which hung by one hinge. This was precisely why Isaac had chosen a building with more than one entrance.

By the time the trooper had called for reinforcements and made to follow, Samuel was long gone, the side door wide open and footprints in the snow outside.

*

By midnight, the search had been called off, the ADVENT forces fading away into the night like nightmares in the morning. Samuel, determining that it was now safe to return to the house, did so, trudging through the snow. He expected Isaac to be waiting for him. After all, they’d been planning for something like this for years, and they hadn’t even come close to discovery once. Plenty of time to refine an escape route, to know exactly when to break free of his restraints and escape into the derelict buildings around them.

But when Samuel did return, the lights were off. There was no sign of life in the house, no sign of a scuffle in the snow outside, not even an ADVENT helmet on a pike. Just silence and darkness. Worried now, Samuel pushed open the door, noting that it was unlocked. That was most certainly not normal.

As soon as he took a step in, he froze. There was a faint… was that rustling? Yes, it was. Like someone was rummaging through trash. His eyes hardening, he fingered the revolver and crept forward, into the main lounge room. Sure enough, there was a figure, silhouetted in the gloom, pouring through the contents of one of the storage units beneath a bench, removing the objects within and placing them neatly into piles according to what they were. The Trooper corpse had been removed. Angry now, Samuel aimed the revolver at the figure’s back. “Hands off. That’s our stuff.”

The figure chuckled, but didn’t stop. “I believe the rule is ‘first come, first served’,” he replied, their voice tinted with an old, upper-class English accent. The kind that identified them as a pretentious asshole before they’d even really said anything. “It’s no more yours than it is mine.”

Samuel growled. “This house is mine, scavenger. Get out of here before I make you.”

“I’m sure it is,” the figure said, still sorting through the materials. “And I’m sure you’ve lived here for twenty years. Listen, I haven’t survived this long by taking everything at face value. I’ve heard all the excuses before, and I’m not going to start believing bullshit like that anytime soon. Like I said, you no more own this house than I do.”

The Russian primed the revolver, making sure the sound of him doing so was clearly audible. “Last chance, scavenger. Out.”

The scavenger finally stopped at the noise, unmoving. “I… really would not recommend that,” he said quietly. “Not unless you want a date with the devil.”

Samuel scoffed. “What are you going to do from there, your back to me? Face it, I’ve got the upper hand he-“

There was a click behind him and a humming noise, what sounded like a weapon loading combined with a handheld power generator turning on. Samuel stopped at the noise, suddenly aware of a presence behind him. His breath caught in his throat. How the hell had someone gotten behind him without his noticing? And so close?

The scavenger chuckled at the Russian’s sudden silence and rose, dusting off their hands and turning around. In the gloom Samuel could make out a handsome face, and what was probably blond hair under a hood. The scavenger was smiling, the smile of someone who is absolutely confident that they had won. “I did warn you. Now you’ve met Lucifer.”

Samuel’s eyes flicked sideways nervously, but he refrained from turning around. “Lucifer? What is that, some kind of nickname?”

“You could say that,” the scavenger replied. “This is your last chance to walk out of here.”

The Russian growled. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said defiantly. “You’re the trespasser here.”

The scavenger sighed. “Now, you’re very unlucky. Normally at this point I would let you off easy with a smack on the arm and a warning never to threaten an honest man again, but I’m in a bit of a foul mood tonight. Things haven’t exactly gone as planned.” He looked behind Samuel. “Lucifer, ki-“

 

[Taxor_the_First]

The door opened to admit another figure, and both Samuel’s and the scavenger’s heads whipped around to look at the new intruder. “I checked it out. Just a large rat that was sitting on the food sto-“ He stopped upon seeing the standoff. “Lester, what the hell is this?”

‘Lester’, presumably the man before Samuel, scowled. “We cannot afford to take chances here. You want this one crawling to ADVENT, or the locals?”

“I resent that,” Samuel muttered. “Do I look like a traitor to humanity to you?”

Something in his voice made the second figure straighten. “… Samuel? Is that you?” he asked, voice tentative.

The Russian hesitated. The voice did seem somewhat familiar, but without seeing the face… “Yeah, that’s me,” he said cautiously. “Why, do I know you?”

The second figure stepped forward, removing the hood from above his face, black curly hair springing out from under it. “Yeah,” Alan said, smiling. “You do.”

Samuel stared at him. “You… how are you here? You were in America last I heard!”

Alan chuckled, turning to his partner. “Call off your drone,” he said before returning his gaze to his friend. “That’s what I wanted you all to think,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Hold on, go back a step. Drone?”

The presence behind him whizzed forward, rounding the Russian’s head and taking its place by Lester’s shoulder. Indeed, it was a drone, floating in the air next to its master. “Yes,” Lester said, his voice having now taken on a miffed quality to it. “So you know this one then?”

Alan patted Samuel on the shoulder. “’course I do,” he said. “He was only my unofficial little brother, way back when I used to live with my mother. Before I joined the organization.” His face turned grave for a moment. “And he’s the adopted son of the old Overseer.”

Lester raised an eyebrow. “So this really is your house. I apologize. I’ve been fooled by that one far too many times.”

Samuel glanced at his friend. “When did you get here? And have you seen my father anywhere?”

“Where was he when you last saw him?” Alan asked, suddenly intent. Lester too seemed interested. “This is important, Samuel. Where was he?”

The Russian looked at him. “He was being taken into an ADVENT convoy. Prisoner.” He shrugged. “He’ll be around. We had backup plans for backup plans. He’ll have gotten away. He always does.”

“Not in my experience,” Lester said. “If someone gets taken by ADVENT, they don’t show up again. And they certainly don’t escape in the meantime.” He glanced at Alan. “Looks like the neighbors were telling the truth.”

Samuel shook his head. “No, he would have gotten away. He… he planned for this sort of thing. We both did. I got out, why wouldn’t he?”

“Was there an Elder in the vicinity?” Alan asked, seemingly ignoring Samuel’s insistences.

“Yeah. Why?”

Lester grimaced. “Shit. I was hoping that one was hyperbole.”

Alan grabbed both of Samuel’s shoulders firmly, but somewhat comfortingly. “Samuel, this is going to be hard for you to swallow. But no one – no one – has ever escaped an Elder. Not without psi powers anyway, and especially not if it’s the one we think it is. Your father is… not coming back here. No matter how long you wait.”

“No. Bullshit. He had to have gotten away. He can’t just… be gone like that…” The gravity of the situation suddenly seemed to press on Samuel, squeezing the hope from him. “He wouldn’t just… let himself be taken like that.”

Alan glanced at his teammate, who shrugged. “Listen, Sam,” he said, turning back to the suddenly very worried Russian. “This may sound cold, especially coming from me, but you can’t just sit here mourning, waiting for ADVENT to come back looking for you. They gave up for a night. That’s a gift most people don’t get. You need to be as far away from here as you can get before they get back.”

Samuel glared at him. “Why are you still here then, if ADVENT is coming back? You’re as much on their shit-list as I would be. Probably more, since you joined… what was it, XCOM?”

How does he...? "That’s exactly why,” Lester butted in, leaning against the wall. “We were doing a supply run, until we get this urgent communication from the higher ups. Come here, they said. Retrieve any useful data or materials from the house, then get out as soon as possible. No mention of any escapees, though. I suppose they weren’t expecting any.”

Alan gave him a pained look. “I can’t just leave him here,” he said.

Lester’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve said about four sentences so far and already I’m not liking this new, more generous you, Bandit. What would you suggest? Take him back to base with us? Oh, I’m sure the Commander will love that.”

Samuel began chuckling, a noise that surprised them both. “Actually, yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. I want to join XCOM.”

The two scavengers glanced at each other. “Well, we are recruiting…” Alan said.

“What? No. Unacceptable. We can’t just let some random civilian-“

“I’m hardly ‘some random civilian’,” Samuel snapped. “I can fight. Very well, in fact. And you guys hunt aliens, right?”

“Hunting aliens is a very broad and very inaccurate description of our activities,” Alan responded nervously.

“But you do?”

“If you’re thinking about going on some revenge-fuelled crusade to hunt down that Elder, then think again. We’re nowhere near that stage yet-“

“Then I’ll stay until you are,” the Russian growled. “What the hell else am I going to do? That Elder took my father away from me. Took my life away from me. I only want to return the favor. It’s revenge-fuelled crusade, or nothing,” he challenged, glaring at Alan as if daring him to stop him.

Alan sighed. “Fine. You can come with us, but we’ll be talking about this when we get to base.”

“Oh, give it up,” Lester said, rolling his eyes. “He’s set on this. I can tell when someone’s so determined they won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and this is one of those times.” He moved away from the wall, his drone floating with him. “Still, let it not be said that you never knew you were asking for. You know that it’s very unlikely you’ll get to find that Elder, let alone kill them, right?”

“Do I look like I care right now?” Samuel asked.

Lester folded his arms. “No,” he replied simply. “That said, we still need to search this place. And you need to pack. Clothes, food, souvenirs. Everything that you think you’ll need. And if there’s anything you think we should know about…”

“I’ll let you know,” Samuel said darkly before moving off to find a bag. Part of him wanted to stop and consider exactly what he was doing, but the rest of him refused to. Alan was right. Dad isn’t coming back. In his own bedroom now, he hauled a bag onto his modest bed and began packing objects into it.

And after tonight, neither will I.

Some time later, as the sky began to lighten with the approach of the sun, the three made their exit, Samuel hesitating on the way out and turning to take one last look at the loungeroom. His eyes caught on two picture frames sitting on one of the benches. He stopped completely, gazing at the images, scenes frozen in time. There was one of a pregnant woman Samuel had never met, a woman that he had surmised was probably Isaac’s late wife. The other was more familiar. Slowly, he picked up the picture frame, gazing at the three figures on it, the picture taken on the day of his own 18th birthday. In the middle was Isaac himself, a scruffy beard growing on his face from months of living out in the middle of nowhere. On the right was a younger Samuel, standing proudly with a grin on his face, an assault rifle leaning upright on his leg. And on the left was a slender young woman, slightly taller than the newly adult Samuel but still shorter than the man in the middle. She too was smiling, black hair coating her head, eyes a shade of brown that you’d swear was red.

Despite himself, he quickly stuffed the picture into his bag, and began walking out of the house, rejoining the two XCOM operatives. “Just needed a reminder,” he said quietly by way of explanation. Lester looked like he was about to question, but after Alan shook his head decided against it. And the operatives left, their salvage on their backs and walking beside them.

 

[DarkGemini24601]

Southwest of La Paz, Mexico
1000 Hours, May 24th
Onboard the Avenger
Level 5-6, Central Block
Command Central

Commander Atka Ipiktok stood before the hologlobe, glancing one last time over her roster. All the recruits had arrived. It was time to begin the final preparations. Taking a deep breath and then exhaling a sigh of relief borne from decades of waiting, she called out to all the staff around her. “Pause what you are doing.” With that, she activated the ship-wide PA system and began her speech.

“Attention. This is Commander Atka Ipiktok. I’m in charge of this outfit. Welcome, all of you, to XCOM. If you haven’t heard of us, don’t feel bad. For the last two decades the organization has been officially dead and its original members wiped from history. Now it is time for us to step back into the light - at least long enough to start waking up the world.”

The Commander paused for a moment before continuing. “You’re all here because in some way or another you realized that ADVENT is a lie. They don’t keep the peace - they oppress all who oppose them. They don’t bear gifts to humanity - they pacify us with lures. They don’t offer equality - they use their promises as a means to an end. Their extraterrestrial masters are no different. The Ethereal Protectorate exploits humanity for ends they don’t even share with their puppets. But we’re going to find out where all the abducted are going and expose the truth. And we’re going to take back the Earth from the occupiers and their illegitimate government.”

She was quiet again for effect. “You all have something to offer the resistance, even if you don’t realize it yet. Whether you’re a doctor or a scientist or an engineer or a mechanic, you can contribute to the fight. You can fight with words like our intelligence department, or you can fight with armaments like our brave combat department will.”

“Now,” Atka interjected, “I am aware that it isn’t easy to simply trust each other just yet. We come from a lot of different places and there’s now way to be 100% sure everyone here is totally devoted to the cause.” Aside from reading everyone’s mind, Atka added as a personal afterthought. “However, I will not tolerate McCarthyism or witch hunting of that sort. For now, put aside your differences and give each other the benefit of the doubt. Only through working together do we have a chance at succeeding.”

“Additionally,” the Commander continued, “I’d like to reassure our combat division of something important. The Personal Combat Sims implants you have received are indeed technology adapted from ADVENT, but they do not function in the same way. We have no psionic network or way of controlling your actions through them, and they are removable at any time. They are merely a creation meant to increase your combat effectiveness.”

Aiming for a conclusion, she finally brought her speech together. “In short, trust in each other. Trust in the Resistance. Trust in XCOM. And together we’ll take down ADVENT and evict the alien occupiers from Earth. We’ll be launching our first operation against the enemy soon, the details of which will be known closer to the target date. Prepare yourselves, and do our world proud.”

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

ZombieSplitter53 and DarkGemini24601
“Interview with the Commander: Morrigan O’Brien”
[Part One]

Southwest of La Paz, Mexico
1437 Hours, May 24th
Onboard the Avenger
Floor 6, Central Block
Command Quarters

Atka tapped a finger against her desk, looking intently at the person on the screen of a run-down laptop in front of her. "No word on the patrol patterns yet? Surely with less than a week until their celebration they would have assigned guards..."

"Likely a mixture of overconfidence and secrecy. From what I was able to ascertain they're only going to select the unit to oversee the festivities the day before. Even if they don't smell a rat they're being cautious for something this big," the covert operative in a run-down Outskirts town told the Commander. "Oh, and it sounds like the Speaker will be protected by alien bodyguards."

"Not surprising. He's not the target though. I fully expect him to be evacuated before we get close to the target position," Atka said dismissively. "Head back into the city in time to catch that information via the data tap. Good lu-"

The screen was replaced by a gold XCOM symbol, and a static-ridden automated voice announced, "Visitor at the door."

"Christ! We'll talk later." Atka exclaimed, turning down the volume on the machine secretary. "That needs a color other than gold," she mumbled, more than a little irked by the system Lily had set up. Pressing a button, she spoke through the small speaker above the door. "Come in."

A skinny, young red-head walked in, and spoke with a slight Irish accent. "You are the Commander of this organization, right?"

Atka looked over the recruit for a few moments, trying to place her. "Correct. My name is Atka Ipiktok, though obviously it would be proper to call me Commander, Commander Ipiktok, or Sir. Have we met before, Miss O'Brien?"

"No..." Morrigan paused for a moment, having to think for a moment to be sure. "I... don't think so. I would probably remember if we did.

Atka's feeling of deja vu felt no less diminished by the answer, but she put it aside for now. "Regardless, I won't beat around the bush. I've brought you on board because I need fighters. But I need to be sure I can trust you. From what I understand, you were formerly a combatant in the resistance cell we recruited you from, until you defied orders and took perhaps-excessive risks for a personal matter." The Commander looked directly at Morrigan with icy dark blue eyes. "I need you to convince me that you won't repeat that sort of insubordination. We may not be an official military organization but I still expect proper conduct from my men."

Morrigan looked like she had heard this before, but that it was no less distracting. "Commander... I took that risk for my daughter. I apologized over and over for it. And I truly am sorry for the danger I put my group in. But... that doesn't mean I regret it, or that I wouldn't do it again."

"The past itself is not my concern. It's what it portends," Atka replied, narrowing her eyes. "Let me ask you a hypothetical. If your daughter was captured would you disobey direct orders from me not to attempt a rescue?"

Morrigan was clearly conflicted. "I... don't see how that would ever happen. Sh-she is safe here after all, right?"

"Nowhere is safe. The Avenger may be one of the less at-risk places in the world but nothing is for certain. Don't dodge the question. Would you put your own desires before the larger needs of not only XCOM but the world at large?" Atka pressed.

"Brigid is my world!" Morrigan cried out. "You aren't being fair! What if our roles were reversed? You have a daughter, don't you? How would you answer the question?"

"I would pick the greater good," Atka replied coldly. "Yakone of all people would understand that."

Morrigan was caught off guard by that answer. She balled her hands into fists."Y-you... you don't have all the facts. You don't... understand."

"She was in an orphanage, correct? Children rarely disappear, it's not as if she was in dire danger. You were afraid they would brainwash her, I would guess. But the entire goal of the Resistance is to expose the public to ADVENT's lies so they will rise up with us. You're impatient and impulsive," Atka concluded.

"And what would have happened if she said the wrong thing!?" Morrigan yelled. "What if she asked why her parents were suddenly gone over night one too many times? What if they just wanted a test subject?" She walked over to Atka, arms out in a begging manner. "I tried to do it the right way! For over a year I begged them to help me save her. They kept putting it off, saying they would first chance. It was dumb luck I found out the mission my team was assigned to would be near her orphanage. Do you know how I found out? I overheard the boss talking about it, and how they weren't going to tell me! They strung me along for over a year and never intended to save her!"

Atka raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I just tell you I don't care about the past? What I want to know is whether or not you'll follow orders now, not why you disobeyed them in your previous capacity. If someone else in your family were to be marked down as a captive, if an ally you fight alongside is captured, I need to be certain you won't throw away your life and quite possibly the squad's doing something idiotic."

Morrigan shook in anger and despair, and slowly sighed. "I... I-I will follow orders like a good little soldier. Don't worry. If you order me to leave someone, I will."

"I want sincerity, not surface compliance." Atka leaned forward. "Understand that I ask you to make difficult promises now and will ask you to make difficult decisions in the future for not just the betterment of mankind but for the sake of your comrades and you personally. To win we have to survive, and we can't do either of those things if we let one loss lead to many more."

Morrigan scoffed. "You talk as though I don't know loss. Trust me, I do. But what you need to understand is that, as I said, Brigid is my world. And as long as she is safe here, I will do everything that is ordered of my. You order me to kill someone, or something, I will. I will go on any mission, face any enemy, and if need be, sacrifice others for the sake of this organization. But if I lost Brigid... my world would be shattered. There is no 'getting over her loss' with that."

"Then in the unlikely event that something does happen to her I would have to remove you from a combat capacity and ensure you weren't going to make a bad move." For the first time in their conversation Atka's features softened slightly. "And believe me, that won't happen. I think I speak for the majority of the combat staff on this ship when I say we'd protect the civilian staff with our lives in the event of a disaster."

Morrigan turned her head away. "And don't worry about me doing something to get myself killed. I know what kind of danger Brigid would be in if I died."

Atka raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

 

[ZombieSplitter53]

ZombieSplitter53 and DarkGemini24601
“Interview with the Commander: Morrigan O’Brien”
[Part Two]

"I know that her position here counts in me being useful. It is obvious that, with the need for efficiency and the greater good, a sickly girl would just drag you down. That is why I would never betray you. You could ask me to donate my legs to the labs of you wished. Anything to keep her somewhere safe."

Atka got up from her desk with anger flashing across her features. The Commander grabbed Morrigan by the collar of her shirt. "What do you take me for? Do you honestly think I would just hurl a child off this ship or put a bullet through her if you stopped being helpful?! And for the love of God stop it with the melodrama. I expect loyalty! Not zealotry!"

Morrigan chuckled grimly. "You seemed to have no hesitation when you told me as impatient and impulsive because she would have been safe enough in an orphanage. What reason do I have to believe you won't sneak her into the city and leave her for someone to drop in an orphanage? It would be one less mouth to feed, less of a strain on your medical resources, and she'd be 'safe' until everyone rises up. Just hope she isn't adopted and taken to the sight of one of our missions, or she isn't brainwashed into joining ADVENT."

"You're a paranoid moron," Atka growled. "Do you know how hard it would be to 'sneak' a child into a Megacity? Caution is to be expected from everyone at first but your thought process reeks of lunacy."

"Motherhood, especially with a daughter as sickly as Brigid, comes with a bit of crazy." Morrigan shook her head. "But I would expect a mother who would so quickly abandon her daughter for 'the greater good' to understand. I mean... you didn't even hesitate when I asked. From where I stand, that is lunacy."

"Don't lecture your commanding officer. And the difference is Squaddie Ipiktok is old enough to make her own decisions and take her own risks," Atka told her.

Morrigan adjusted her jaw angrily. "Yes, sir. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, sir. I will follow your orders as promised... sir."

Atka was silent for awhile. "The way I see it, you have two options. Either you dislike me and the way I lead and you leave, or you deal with this animosity here and now. If you pick the latter, I'll give you this one chance to strike your commanding officer without repercussion."

Morrigan looked down at Atka's hands, still on her collar. "Let me go..." Atka released Morrigan, seeming to have forgotten she was holding her in the first place. Morrigan adjusted her shirt. "So... I can hit you now? And you won't kick me out, or turn it against me later?"

"Go ahead," was Atka's simple reply.

Morrigan grabbed her by the collar, and pulled her fist back, but hesitated. She got ready to throw it again, but hesitated again, staring angrily into the Commander's eyes. "I... I don't... understand..."

"I don't expect you to understand my family situation or my thought process. What I will not abide is you holding your Commander in contempt. Resolve that now."

Morrigan glared at her, pulling back her arm. After holding it for several seconds, she sighed and let Atka go. "I... I don't hold you in contempt. I just... Brigid... I have to protect her." Morrigan's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I will be a great asset to you, I swear it. Though I understand if you can't trust me." She shook her head. "I won't hit you. I can't. No matter what the reason... you have brought Brigid somewhere relatively safe. How could I ever feel contempt when that is the case?"

"She'll only be truly safe after we've achieved a measure of victory. So work with me." Atka sighed, and extended her right hand. "I believe we've got off to a bad start. I hope we can rectify that."

Morrigan nodded, taking her hand. "Me to. Though this probably won't be the first time I piss you off."

"Well..." Atka paused. "Can I say this? Consider it a compliment rather than an insult, but... you're Irish so that's to be expected."

Morrigan chuckled, than laughed loudly. "Yer got dat roi. 'ere's 'opin' oi scram de enemy even more. Ain't dat roi, me commander?"

"That how you normally talk? Have you been straining this whole time?" Atka questioned with the ghost of a smile.

The Irishwoman shrugged. "Dis might be me normal manner av yammerin', but so'tiz naw strain ter blather al' 'normal loike'." She cleared her throat. "After all, the people in the Megacities weren't a fan of people being different."

"I've never set foot in one, but believe me, I know," Atka replied.

Morrigan waved her hand. "You're not missing much. Kinda dull. I think the best word to describe them is... sterile."

"From the pictures I've seen they do seem set up like hospitals..." Atka murmured.

Morrigan lowered her head, and said, "They will have to be jazzed up a bit when we liberate them, huh?"

"Right... but that's down the line. We've got a ways to go. Though the time to strike is very soon, I can tell you that much, O'Brien," Atka responded with a deadly energy.

 

[DarkGemini24601]

Dahlexpert and DarkGemini24601: “The Two Lineage Warriors, Part 1”

Southwest of La Paz, Mexico
1351 Hours, May 26th
Onboard the Avenger
Floor 5, Central Block
Living Quarters

“Well, Luke, I’m going to go to engineering, I’m guessing I could probably help some of the specialist with hacking into ADVENT. Or at least show them some of it’s back doors anyway,” Lilith announced.

“Yea, get people to trust you… I still think people think you're with ADVENT with the gray skin and all. I think they’re just waiting for you to do something to prove you're a traitor.”

“I don’t care what people think Luke, regardless They could use any advantage they can get so I’m going to go help out the engineers - you be good alright?” Lilith left the room leaving Luke on his bunk staring at the ceiling.

A few minutes later a young woman walked into the lounge area, wearing black jeans, a white shirt, and a dark blue set of attire consisting of a jacket and a baseball cap. With her she had a plate of food - a late lunch - that she carelessly set down on a table beside a couch opposite from Luke as she sat down on the couch itself. She glanced over at Luke, up at the ceiling, and then back at the Grenadier. “You see something I don’t?” She asked with mild amusement.

Luke looked opposite of him seeing seeing a young girl, with a plate of food in her hand. “Well I see a very cute look woman with a pile of food in her hand, so I’m looking at something interesting now.”

Yakone raised an eyebrow as she speared a piece of steak with her fork and ate it. “Am I in the presence of a flatterer?”

“A flatter lover jackass, and a stealer of all women's hearts .” Lukes says jokingly. “Hi. Let me be serious, names’ Luke, Luke Van Dam; who is this lovely lady in front of me?”

“Yakone…” the Ranger said hesitantly, before sighing in defeat. This is too small a ship to try and hide my last name, huh? “Yakone Ipiktok. The second Ranger, her only senior in taking up the mantle of that class being it’s creator itself.”

“Ranger huh? Well I’m a grenadier; I like blowing stuff up and big guns… wait, Ipiktok? You’re the Commander’s kid.”

Yakone nodded with a sigh. “Yep… man, I need some title for myself to be known by other than ‘the Commander’s daughter’,” she muttered to herself.

“Well I have a lot of mothers angry at me, what’s one more? Although the girls mom has never been my boss, should be interesting.” Luke couldn't help but notice the hat Yankone is wearing “Nice hat, is that old world?”

“Yep. Was a gift from Kevin,” Yakone answered. “The Yankees shall rise again, this I swear to you. Down with whatever crappy team ADVENT has in New York City now.”

“You have no goddamn idea, the baseball, basketball... hell even hockey - they are all terrible. Trust me you would fall asleep after about five minutes, or overdose on knight quell.”

“So you lived in the Colonies at some point then?” Yakone paused. “For the uninitiated in Resistance lingo, that’s the Megacities.”

“You could say I lived in the colonies, it was more like a slum then anything pretty crappy living.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. They only really clean up the City Centers rather than the peripheral zones of their bastions of power,” Yakone replied with a nod. “By the way, what’s knight quell?”

“You can call it sleep medicine, the only thing that actually survived the old world shockingly. Don’t worry too much about it.” Luke looked at his right arm. “ Oh, right, now that I’m in the clear I don’t need this sleeve any more.” Luke took off his sleeve revealing his tattoos.

Yakone leaned forward slightly. “Cool...” she said with a small coo. “Where’d you get those?”

“The slums have their benefits; my right arm is more like a memorial than anything else.”

“For some sort of organization?” Yakone pressed curiously. “Are they tribal? Or from some military? Maybe even a gang?” She questioned.

“Well two out of three you’re right on, although I was a troublemaker when I was in high school.” Luke point to the tattoo on his shoulder “This wolf tattoo represents my tribe, my mother told me that this was our symbol. I really couldn't tell if it is or not.”

“Wait… so your tribe is also a military organization?” Yakone asked. “That’s unusual.”

“Well my tribe according to my aunt, we lived in Alaska. There, we were military and also mercenaries. Apparently my people loved the military for a few reasons. They loved to fight and it was good training.”

“Well, I can understand a thirst for battle… I’ve been waiting my whole life to kick some alien ass,” Yakone stated with a fire in her tone. “It’s been unbelievably tedious waiting for the moment when I can finally get out there.”

“I get that. All I’ve done was train as well, I can’t wait to get my hands on those alien bastards for the three reasons that’s on my arm.” Luke pointed to the last two tattoos on his arm. “The one on my bicep is old world Marines, which represents my mom; the one on my wrist is also old world and it’s the Rangers which represents my dad.”

“I’ve heard a bit about both… did you know there are still some Marines out there? They’re a small resistance group that goes around helping other North American groups like the South Marauders, the Crown Princes, and the Red Hearts.”

“Well it’s nice to know that there are still some old world soldiers out there. Though that still doesn't help me with my own problems but thanks for that.”

Yakone tilted her head slightly. “Getting into the field? Revenge?” She wondered aloud. “You’re often vague you know.”

“You could say it’s revenge, the aliens after the war was over went after my tribe and killed all of them. My mom and dad were there trying to defend the village but they perished as well.” Luke says while looking at his arm.

“Jeez… I guess you could say my tribe had a similar story, though I only know it from what the people from the original X-COM told me. Apparently my family’s tribe got attacked by an abduction UFO and the ones that weren’t scattered were taken to some base as test subjects. Some of them got rescued just before everything went to hell, but… my grandparents were lost when the X-COM base fell,” Yakone explained, seeming angry even if she was detached from the situation by her age.

“Heh sounds like you and I have kinda the same stores, only my whole tribe died because they would rather go extinct then serve under the aliens or be captured by them. I just wish that I could have seen them before they perished.”

Yakone nodded. “Yeah… certainly sounds like they’d be my type of people as far as fighting spirit goes. I suppose your story might be more tragic than mine… you’ve got that up on me in addition to the tats.” Yakone growled irritably. “Make that two people I know that have badass points over me…”

“Hey you will earn your badass points at some point, hell I also have a criminal record if that counts. Even though there minor crimes.”

“That would count.” Yakone chuckled. “It must be a strange world to anyone above the age of 26 that being a criminal in this day and age is a badge of honor rather than a negative stigma.”

“Well crimes were fun, I mean I stole a car when I was 16. Did about 30 donuts in front of the person drove off and accidentally set his car on fire… along with an abandoned house, and another car and my old home.”

“Sounds like someone will enjoy using our incendiary grenades,” Yakone guessed. “Unleash your inner pyromaniac on our foes.”

“Yea being a pyromaniac helps too.” Luke says while snapping his fingers and a small flame is on his index finger and thumb. “It took me years to do this by the way, and hours of training.”

“Shit, you’re a psion?” Yakone said with wide eyes. “These are the things people leave off their resumes for some reason… I am too, though I’m the opposite color from you.”

“Really, I met a few psions when I was in school. I met a green orange and purple, all great friends of mine so sweety what’s your special gift what color are you huh?” Luke asked genuinely curious.

“Well, I’m a green psion,” Yakone began. “I have biokinesis and imbuing, so I can heal myself, charge up my weapons, or combine the two to become a living tank.” Maybe not that strong but it sounds cool. “Plus, I have an ability I like to call Override.”

“Override, huh? what can that do? Is it something you made up or is it part of your psi powers?”

“I dunno if it’s unique to me or not, but it basically lets me possess people,” Yakone succinctly replied. “Like that mind control thing the Sectoids do. Sorry, ‘Priorbus’,” she said sarcastically, using the ADVENT name for the bulbous-headed aliens. “Except for me it’s more like an out of body experience, and I have more precise control.”

“That sounds awesome, The only thing I have is pyro powers for now. And what I can do is not just make fires but and control existing fires. Though my fire is a little more tough to put out then normal flames. But your ability to exit your own body sounds pretty cool, but doesn't that leave you vulnerable?”

 

[Dahlexpert]

Dahlexpert and DarkGemini24601: “The Two Lineage Warriors, Part 2”

Yakone rubbed the back of her neck. “Well… yeah, but I can always just protect it with my borrowed body, right? Controlling a big strong Muton kind of covers my bases.” Not that I’ve ever gotten to.

“Well then, that just means I have to protect that cute little bum of yours huh. Well that’s my job any way to hold the line apparently.”

“Well, and the new class Lily and her new friend dreamed up,” Yakone responded. “The Chief’s working on a ‘Juggernaut’ that can use a deployable alloy shield, so that should beef up our defensive forces. Though obviously I can take a beating myself.”

“Yea I would rather have my minigun and grenade launcher any day of the week, but that doesn't sound so bad to have. I’m sure that once we piss off ADVENT enough that class will come in handy.”

“I’m still wondered how that is…” Yakone sighed, leaning back on the couch. “What the first operation entails - and who’s gonna go on it - are things the Commander hasn’t really shared with any of the new recruits yet. Or me.”

“Hum, you would think a mother would tell her daughter that she’s going on a mission. Me I’m new here so I expect no one to tell me much.”

“Well, if the fact that I don’t like being associated with her doesn’t set off any alarm bells, we don’t exactly… get along,” Yakone replied. “Reason? She’s a spiteful harpy that expects me to mind her when she’s done practically nothing for me growing up.” She waved her hand. “Not that it’s your problem, just figured it deserved an explanation.”

“Wow, my mom is dead but even she was alive she did care and loved me, not put me to the side. And both her and my dad were in the military when they had me. Sorry am I making you upset?”

Yakone shook her head. “No, that’s just her. Not your fault,” she insisted. “You’re pretty cool in my book.”

“Oh great, because at this point girls would have either slapped me or give me their number by now. But I’m not heavily flirting with you that much.”

“Well, I’m not most girls, though I doubt many in the Resistance would fall under the prissy archetype anyway,” Yakone mused, laying on her back. “Romance isn’t too much on my mind right now. Might be nice, but I’ve got battles to fight, and there are a lot of hot guys on this ship anyway. Too many choices can be a bad thing, and it’s hard to decide on which interest me when that’s not my focus.”

“Yea i’m sure most guys would stop flirting with you once they hear you're the commander's daughter, me I just don’t care. But there are a lot of woman on this ship as well, I’m sure I will get slapped at least once while i’m here.”

“You should be focused on getting slapped at all.” Luke turned around to see his aunt at the door.

“How long have you been there, and what have I said about spying on me.”

“You’re my nephew you have no privacy.” Lilith looks at Yakone “Who are you?”

“Weren’t around long enough to hear my name were you?” Yakone said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m Yakone.”

“Nice to meet you, name's Lilith. You can call me Luke’s aunt or his mother whichever you prefer. Hell even Luke calls me mom from time to time, anyway I just came to get something and I will be gone.”

“You know you have really crappy timing right, just like a mother.”

“Luke, I raised you from when you were a baby, be thankful i’m not showing baby pictures and embarrassing you.” Lilith grabbed a small chip from her bag. “Ah there we go anyway Luke I will leave you to it. Also, Luke, you share this room with other people so don’t make too much noise with her, and know where to aim,” Lilith said while leaving the room.

Luke slaps his forehead. “My aunt she does not care what she says.”

“Hey, hold your horses! Don’t get ahead of yourself you nutty bitch!” Yakone called after Lilith. Something else seemed to register to her. “Uh... why the hell does your aunt have gray skin?”

“She used to be with ADVENT, and the gray skin is a part of the genetic splicing she had.”

“You… sure we can trust her? Was that thing she was carrying her real ADVENT chip? Or is she a spy…”

“That was an ADVENT chip - a real one. It was lodged into her brain so they could easily mind control her. The resistance in Alaska helped get it out of her head and it was really painful. Plus when I told you when the aliens destroyed my village she was there fighting them off, so she probably hates the aliens more the Commander.”

“No, I don’t think you could beat her in a contest of detesting the aliens. They took away her family and friends pretty much wholesale and blew off her left arm and leg, screwed up her left eye, so she’s as passionate about taking them down as I am at the very least,” Yakone explained. “As for your aunt… if she did fight against them initially why the hell did she join up with ADVENT?”

“That’s kinda my fault. As you can predict the slums didn't have good doctors. I got sick was in really bad shape so she did the one thing she hated to do. She joined ADVENT to cure me, then when I got older we realised my sickness was my psi powers kicking in. So her joining was for nothing. So I got powers and she became a slave. Great trade off right?” Luke said with some guilt.

“So she fell into the same stupid trap as a lot of other people like a common idiot,” Yakone growled. Sympathy did flash in her eyes though, and she took a deep breath, hardly calming herself down but at least letting her think of something to say that was a little less unkind. “Though… at least she cared enough to do that. And not force her idea of never surrendering onto her family.”

“Yea, she saw what ADVENT does to people and psions. She didn't like it so the second the resistance came to her she took the opportunity to strike and get some small payback. Hell the reason why i’m here is because she seen what ADVENT did to people with psionics, and she would not let that happen to me. So she’s here to fight like me and to keep me safe.”

“Yeah, I guess it works out in the end… now you’re both here fighting with the Resistance, whereas if she hadn’t joined up initially you might not be here now.” Even if she couldn’t have known things would work out at the time.

“Meh I’m happy to be here, and trust me she’s happy to be here to. She’s hopping that she can redeem her sins in ADVENT. She’s looking to forgive herself more then anything.”

“Well, she’ll get her chance whenever we start making our strikes.” Yakone hopped up from her chair. “I’ve got places to be, but I’ll catch you another time Luke.” The Ranger gave him a nod and a wink - making it unclear if she meant anything by the latter - and ran off.

“Heh. Cute girl, can’t wait to work with her. Now I got some sleep to catch.” Luke got back to his bunk and tried to sleep.