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Post by Thenlar on Mar 1, 2016 15:20:52 GMT -5
Use this thread to post RPs that involve multiple characters. Collaborated RPs are generally what goes here (Posts hashed out over PM and then collected together into a single post).
In-character posts ONLY!
Please try to at least note a general timeframe when the post is happening (Takes place sometime at night after the VIP rescue, etc) if not a more specific date/time stamp.
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Post by Laughing Wolf on Mar 6, 2016 14:47:52 GMT -5
Wed Feb 28 2035 - After Operation Gatecrasher-- After Claire's Breakdown-- And After Claire's Second Breakdown
*thunk*thnk* *tht-thunk* *thhhht- Kyaaa!-THK* *thunk*thnk* *tht-thunk* *thhhht- Kyaaa!-THK* The pattern repeats with little variation. *thunk*thnk* *tht-thunk* *thhhht- Kyaaa!-THK* Again and again, as Sadie nears the room hastily set up for physical and tactics training, the staccato beat of flesh on flesh analogue repeats itself. If the soldier shows any sign of slowing down, it's not found in her voice. Sadie casually steps a little harder coming around the corner, to avoid surprising her. *thunk*thnk* *tht-thunk* *thhhht- Kyaaa!-THK* It seems to be for naught, though, as Claire doesn't notice her immediately. The dummy she isn't pounding mercilessly has a combat knife thrust cleanly from hyoid bone halfway through to the skull. She repeats her routine once more before catching sight of Sadie. The unexpected audience startles her in the middle of a head-grab to knee, and she ends up slamming her thigh into the harder bottom edge of the bust. "Mmf!" She stifles a cry of pain and turns to face Sadie, favoring her left. She's been vigorously punishing the dummy for some time without pause -- at least a half hour -- if the bruising on fists, elbows and knee tell true. "Hi...""Bridges. You got a moment?"Claire steps away from the dummy, showing more and more favor to her left side as her right leg begins bruising half a hand above the knee. Her lips part, and for a moment, linger at the edge of an excuse. An explanation why she lost her stomach just in from her first mission. Bad sushi. Radiation poisoning. Bitten by a mutant snake. None of them come out. Instead, she stands straight, hands at her side, as if addressing a superior officer in a manner learned watching too much TV. "Yes, sir."Sadie crosses over to a bench on the other side of the room, by a whiteboard covered in assault tactics notes, and takes a seat - motioning for Claire to do the same. "Let's do away with rank for now. Out there, it matters. In here? Not so much."Claire nods and limps over to the bench. With an aching sigh, she eases herself onto the bench and looks across at Sadie. But the day has been long, and the week longer. From living homeless just inside ADVENT walls, to getting picked up in a running gunfight, and then volunteering the next day for a dangerous distraction operation. No matter how she tries to sit up straight, her shoulders slouch. The teen is worn. The young woman takes a breath, running through a speech she's given - in one form or another - too many times, to men and women even younger than her. "So this was your first mission. You did good, kept it together, made it back. You lost it a little, maybe, out there just now. Don't let it shake you. The others will expect certain things of you, but going from what you are now to hardened veteran, instantly, isn't one of them. You understand?""I think so." She doesn't sound so certain of her answer. "The others, the original XCOM soldiers, they're not as good as they were - time and the aliens have worn them down. They need people like you, like me, to patch up their weaknesses. They need us and we need them."Claire nods. Those excuses struggling to escape her lips, to take flight on strained voice and demand that everyone understand why the day's events took such a toll on her, so that those soldiers would look upon her with a newfound respect for her strength and bravery ... those excuses shrivel into the empty words they always were. Instead, she bites the bitter pill of truth: "I need help."Sadie exhales, letting her posture slide a little, too. She still needed to write up the after-action report, and the senior staff all seemed to think the Commander would spearhead a increase in the frequency of missions. She let the moment stretch a little, then smiled. "Sure. Anything I can do?"
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Post by HSAR on Mar 6, 2016 15:01:26 GMT -5
Thu Mar 01 2035 - After Operation Dragon Song
Ziv is at the outdoor firing range with a newly-acquired sniper rifle, taking shots at the most distant targets available. His accuracy is good, but he seems annoyed at his performance.
Sadie arrives from the Avenger with a large box slung from one shoulder, breath clouding in the cold air. She hesitates when she sees Ziv, but proceeds over and unpacks a shotgun, inspecting it carefully. After a moment, she slides a long magazine into the weapon - slug rounds today, the magnum shells longer and more powerful than she's used to.
The first group are satisfying, the pump-action shotgun kicking up only a little after each shot. With exaggerated care, Sadie guides the muzzle back down during the back-and-forward motion of the pump, ready to fire immediately after.
At an interval during which both soldiers are reloading, she speaks to break the silence.
"Logistics finally green-lit the use of the long guns, I see."
"Indeed."
Ziv glances in her direction, his orange eyes briefly scanning her face.
"Keinitz, wasn't it? Good work on the last mission. You're much better with a shotgun than a rifle."
"Affirmative... Adler. Drew first blood in close quarters, the Berlin slums. Doors and corners."
Satisfied with the next set of shells, she puts them downrange in a flurry of buckshot.
"You always been familiar at range?"
"Yes. Six years as a sniper in the IDF, then eighteen years as a Mossad assassin."
He looked back downrange. "Unfortunately, I'm a bit out of practice."
Sadie nodded, but mostly to herself.
"Always preferred mobility. Did you ever see any action in Tel Aviv? The Resistance had some great action in the New City skyscrapers."
Ziv shook his head. "Mostly in the West Bank, and I hardly visited Israel once I left the IDF. What about you? You look too young to have served pre-war."
"Never did. Still a child when it all happened. The Berlin cell was maybe... seven, eight years ago? Moved around Europe a lot, saw some action in Africa. I hit Tel Aviv only a year or two ago for a big run on a Sectopod facility, but it fell apart before it really got going."
She set the shotgun down, running a hand tiredly through her hair.
"Can get to you, sometimes."
"I'm sure it can, but at least you've still been fighting. I've been hiding since the Mossad purges ten years ago."
Something happens, then, in her expression. Sadie pulls out her battered canteen and drinks deeply, buying a moment to calm her nerves.
"No, you're right. Got to keep moving, keep fighting - that's my world. What a life it is."
After a long moment, Sadie puts the canteen back down. Her focus is lost in the distance. Adler hasn't moved.
"Sometimes I wonder about what'll happen if this ever ends. What I'd do, you know? I can barely remember a time when I wasn't fighting."
"And then I think about the possibility that we'll never be done fighting. Would that be worse?"
"I'm sure this fight will end eventually. All we can do is try and ensure we win it."
Sadie's expression hardens.
"We gave up so much. If we don't win, I'm going to die pissed."
"So make sure we do win."
Ziv picked up his rifle, aimed, and planted another bullet half an inch from the bullseye.
He frowned. "Still too slow." He muttered to himself.
Sadie hesitates, again, and pulls her sidearm from its holster. It drives up, she unleashes a burst of five rounds, and lets the weapon drop.
"I used to work with a man like you, while I was out in the Netherlands. Always training, always drilling down that extra hundredth of a second."
"Sounds like a smart man. More time spent training means less chance of making mistakes."
Sadie nodded, sadly.
"A Viper pulled him right out of our extraction vehicle a month later. Sometimes no amount of training will save you."
"Perhaps. But then I've always preferred to avoid situations where luck is a factor."
Sadie laughs mirthlessly.
"Luck is always a factor. What's the saying? Luck is just the Reaper with another face."
Ziv turned to face her again. "In over two decades of fighting, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in immediate danger, and I consider all of them mistakes on my part. If you have planned correctly, bad luck is impossible."
Sadie considers this for a long, long moment before tidying her weaponry and ammunition away neatly.
"Good to hear your thoughts, Adler. Thanks for your time."
"Anytime, Keinitz." Ziv said, returning his attention to his target.
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Post by medievalman on Mar 7, 2016 12:25:03 GMT -5
Sitting at the comms console on the bridge of the Avenger, Devlin lazily twisted a knob back and forth, listening for the tell-tale signs of hidden resistance communications. It was always a bit tricky to single them out, especially since the resistance had almost twenty years to develop their technique. A deft hand was always needed to find their messages, but Devlin eventually grew accustomed to finding them. Tonight, though, everything was quiet.
He turned the knob again and flipped a switch. Nothing.
Another few flicked switches. Still nothing.
Devlin sighed, his eyes drifting out to the open window and the forests beyond.
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20 years ago…
Talia groans and opens her eyes. Her body ached terribly and when she attempted to move, it shot back with sharp pains of protest. She stared up at a concrete ceiling, then began to look around.
She lay in a small room on what appeared to be some sort of old mattress. No one else was in sight, though she thought she heard voices coming from beyond the door. She noted that her armor had been removed and she was dressed in little beyond a blanket and her undergarments. Much of her torso and left arm were wrapped in bandages.
She sighed, laying her head back and closing her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't think about where I am..."
Beyond the walls of Talia's room, muffled footsteps and quieted voices reverberated from the walls. The noises drew closer and closer, the concrete doing little to hush the approaching intruders. The noises stopped just beyond the doorway to Talia's room and an eerie silence took over.
The building started to shake and a low hum replaced the silence. It hung overhead for a few seconds, eventually breaking the old windows on the side of the building. The hum grew loud but then mysteriously faded, replaced again by the silence.
The door opened and Sarah walked in. She looked down at the mattress and her eyes went wide. "Devlin! Look!"
Devlin quickly followed Sarah into the room and nearly dropped the case of medical supplies he was carrying. "Talia! You're awake!"
Talia's gaze, though momentarily drawn towards the window by the familiar hum of a UFO, shot back to the doorway. She lifted her head and sat up slightly, careful not to put too much stress on her wounds. "Sarah? Devlin? Where are we?"
"We're..." Sarah looked back at Devlin, who shrugged. "In a relatively safe place. The UFOs have been searching this far, but the ground troops have sorta stayed near the base."
Devlin set the medical supplies on the ground and crouched down. "We've traveled quite a ways away from the airbase. Been about a week or so. I... was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up."
"I told you she just needed the rest, Devlin," Sarah said as she popped open the medical crate and retrieved a fresh IV bag. "Her blood levels—" She bit her lip and looked down at Talia, but gave her a weak smile. "Were dangerously low, but you would make a full recovery. Well, mostly..."
Talia nods a bit. "What happened to everyone else? Are we, um... alone?" She lays patiently at Sarah changes her IV bag and the two check up on her.
Devlin unwrapped a used bandage from Talia's arm and tossed it to a corner of the building. "Well, besides the three of us, there's Kelli and Colonel Ivan. They're keeping watch for any alien patrols coming our way. As for the rest of the base..." Devlin sighed and wrapped a fresh bandage around the open arm wound. "We have no idea. The evac trucks all sped off in different directions. The aliens were giving pursuit but we were able to get away, thanks to Marina. We're all scattered right now."
Talia nods slowly again, falling silent for a few seconds as she thinks. Finally, she speaks again. "Where are we now? Roughly? Which direction did we go in?"
"Uhm... north? Northeast?" Sarah asked aloud. "We did exit at the north side of the airstrip and just kept driving."
Devlin pondered for a moment. "Yes we did exit to the north, but I'm not sure we kept going that way after the accident. That UFO cut off our escape route, remember?"
"Yes, but I do remember we were aiming to keep going north once we got out of that town," Sarah replied. "If we went south, we would have run into the death squad again."
Talia frowns at that but doesn't dwell on the subject, looking to Sarah specifically. "How long until I am well enough to get around on my own?"
"Well, you had severe burning all across the right side of your body that will need to be treated daily until they heal on their own, which could take weeks," Sarah began. "You also had several ribs and your right femur broken from having that Berserker fall on you, as well as the deep puncture wound from it claw in your abdomen. I did the best I could to set the bones and stop the bleeding, but we'll need to get you to a proper facility to make sure you stay stable."
"I'm sure you'll be mobile again in a few weeks, but..." Sarah sighed. "Without the base medical ward, it... could take months before you'll be back to your old self again."
Talia nods, this time seeming more sure and energized than before. "Okay then. Find me a hospital and leave me to recover. I'll make my way back to Israel somehow."
She smiles weakly to the two of them. "You two shouldn't wait around for me to get better."
Sarah and Devlin looked at each other with worried expressions. Sarah nodded slowly.
"We will first have to find a hospital where you will be safe," Sarah said, gathering up her medical supplies and heading for the door. "That... might be difficult."
As Sarah left the room, Devlin gulped down hard. "We picked up a radio broadcast just yesterday. The bastards are offering a peace agreement with the UN." He crossed his arms. "I've got no idea what they're planning, but I doubt they're going to let any of us escape. It's going to be hard for us to lay low for the time being."
He sighed. "I'm not sure there's gonna be a safe place to put you up in."
Talia's smile faded and she pulled her lips to the side, thinking again. "Mm... hm..."
Talia looked around the room briefly, then back up at Devlin. "If you leave at a quiet hospital in Poland, I don't think they will find me. They will focus on the big cities first... New York, Beijing, London, Paris, Moscow, Tel Aviv... if they're trying to win peacefully, they will be slow to get through less important countries and cities."
"That does make sense." Devlin replied scratching his chin. "It'd take them time to get that kind of search organized. Well, hopefully. It is the best shot we have of gettin you back on your feet. We'd have tae come up with an explanation for your wounds, but it seems doable."
Devlin slid a nearby crate beside the bed and sat down on it, crossing his arms. "Though, I'm curious. What do you plan on doing in Israel once you're fully healed?"
Talia shrugs lightly, careful not to aggravate her wounds. "I'm not sure. See my family, I guess? And tell them what's happened? If the aliens can find out who I am from the base, they may eventually find them... I should warn them about that."
"Yes.. that..." Devlin began. "That would be a wise course of action."
Uncomfortable silence prevailed for a few, painstaking seconds. Devlin cleared his throat. "I'm not so sure what I'm going to do. X-COM was really all I had left. And now that the world is being taken over by aliens..." He fished a hand into his pocket a produced a small flask. He unscrewed the lid and took a small swig. "It's enough to drive a man to drink."
Devlin waved a dismissive hand. "Bah. I'm sure the Colonel will come up with something. No use worrying about the future right now, given the circumstances. I'll figure something out."
He leaned forward and offered the flask to Talia. "After all, there's still a need for angels in this world, eh lass?"
Talia sat in silence as she listened to and mulled over his words, staring at the flask for a couple seconds before ultimately shaking her head in rejection.
"You want to keep fighting? Do they?" She frowns and lays back, tired of holding herself up. "Aren't you tired of fighting?"
Devlin's face sank and his outstretched arm drooped into his lap. "Tired...?"
He bent over and hung his head low. "Of course I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, tired of bleeding, tired of running, tired of praying..." He stared at his flask, twisting it over and examining it in his hand. "I'm tired of this goddamn war. I would like nothing more than to finally have some peace. Retire these aging bones. Go back home."
He screwed the cap back onto his flask. "But there is no home. Not anymore."
With a slight flick of the wrist, Devlin tossed the flask toward a distant corner. He looked back up at Talia, a stern look on his face. "There's no refuge for me anymore. No house on fields of green. No vine and fig tree. No bonnie lass to come home to. No bright future of security. I've lost everything to those bastards. My homeland, my comrades, my career. They've taken everything I've fought to protect." He sighed. "And now... I've even lost what I've been fighting for." He clenched his fist tight. "But if I'm to hold on to something, anything just to keep me going in this terrifying new world, it's the struggle I've bled and killed for."
"I won't let it be all for nothing. I won't sit idly by while our future is taken from us. Not while I still got life in me."
Talia smiled lightly as he finished, his words spurring enough strength in her for her to sit up. She moves gingerly to minimize her pain. "You're brave, Devlin... and fierce. You've lost more than most people, even people from XCOM. But you channel your pain better than anyone. It's uplifting to see."
She glanced towards the door, pausing for a few seconds as she regathered her thoughts then lowered her voice and turned her gaze to the wall across the room. "... Why did you risk your life for me at the airfield?"
Devlin's face grew a bit red and his eyes shifted back and forth, searching the room for an answer. He smiled weakly and scratched the back of his head. "W-well... uh, well you see lass, as we were all getting ready to leave, I saw you fightin' all by your lonesome. And when you went down, I... well, I didn't think anyone would else would come to your aid. Everyone was in sort of a panic to get away, and the aliens were advancing on your position, so... I just... saw an opening and..."
He let out a nervous chuckle.
Talia looked at him curiously, having expected a different tone. She said nothing of it, however, opening her mouth before hesitating, then seeming to say something different. "You-, uh..."
She trailed off and chewed her lip as she tried to decide what to say and how, leaving the room in silence once again for another few seconds. Finally, she spoke. "I knew what I was doing... but thank you for saving my life."
Devlin gave her a small smile. "T-Think nothing of it, lass. I was happy to help..."
Another hum passed overhead and the door to the room swung open. Sarah rushed into the room quickly followed by Ivan and Kelli. Ivan looked down at Talia on the bed and gave a surprised smile. "You're awake. That's good news." He turned to Devlin. "One of the UFOs dropped off a patrol. We need to leave." He pointed at Talia. "Is she mobile?"
"Not quite, sir." Devlin responded.
"Then you'll have to carry her out." Ivan charged his gauss rifle and pointed toward another exit. "Kelli, take point."
Kelli nodded and proceeded toward another doorway with her laser rifle readied. Ivan followed suit, similarly alert. Sarah gathered up everyone's equipment and slung it over her shoulder, following the two to the exit.
Devlin crouched down toward the bed. "Ready?"
"I guess. As ready as I'll ever be. Be gentle." Talia offers a half-forced smile. "Where are we going?"
Devlin slid his arms as gently as he could under her upper back and knees. He hoisted her up into his arms, careful not to make any sudden moves. "Outside of the range of that patrol for now."
The blanket fell off of Taila, but Devlin caught it as it dropped. He gave her a nervous smile and did his best to cover her bare skin with the blanket as he held her. "But afterword, we'll find a hospital to treat you at. We'll probably head north, away from HQ and the alien death squads."
Talia inhaled sharply, trying to manage the pain shooting through her body as she was lifted. "R-right... okay..." He did her best to help balance the blanket long enough for Devlin to catch it, again much at the expense of her own comfort. She offered him a thankful smile, but quickly averted her gaze and let the expression fade.
"That sounds great. Thank you."
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“Devlin, are you there?”
Devlin shook himself from his thoughts and and pressed a button on his console. A little red light lit up next to a speaker and he leaned toward it. “I’m here. Go ahead.”
“Meet me down in the Training School. I think you and I should go over the fundamentals again.”
Devlin chuckled. “Just like old times?”
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Post by HSAR on Mar 11, 2016 15:08:57 GMT -5
Wed Mar 14 2035 - After Operation Spider TowerJulia slumped into the seat next to Sadie and poured herself a glass of whiskey. "I remember you," she remarked. "You were one of the soldiers that picked me up. Not sure if I caught your name, though." Sadie turns to her, putting down her beer.
"Keinitz. Sadie Keinitz. Berlin cell originally, then London, then... wherever I ended up. You?""Julia Shepherd. From Toronto originally, moved to Minneapolis after Canada went dark. Chicago cell mostly, but did a lot of touring. New York, San Fran, Vancouver, even a few runs into Mexico City. Saw an awful lot of action." "Shepherd. Good name. Were you there in Toronto when they started the crackdown? I worked with a radio guy who just about made it out. He had some damn scary stories to tell."
"Shit, yeah. The Canadian government was fuckin' brutal towards the end. Still think ADVENT is using the footage from the riots." Julia sighs. "I was in a hospital though, dying of leukemia. After the aliens swooped in and ghosted half the city, they left me behind. Probably because of it. Ran into an American patrol doing refugee runs and they hauled me back with them, and what do you know, America falls dark a month later. There was the whole Civil War, round 2, but I didn't see much of that either. FEMA and the Army started calling themselves 'ADVENT', said they were backed by the aliens, and the rest is history." Sadie remains quiet for a moment, taking a pull from her glass instead.
"From what I heard, the German government went down fighting - not that it made much difference. Aliens bombed everything to shit and started fresh anyway. Still, in my early days you still met the occasional ex-Bundeswehr veteran kicking around. Survivors. I was even medivac'd once by a group from the old Army Aviation Corps, flying out of Fritzlar - what an experience that was.""Holy shit, you were at Fritzlar? That's the shit legends are made of! I dated a girl, for like three months, right, and her cousin filmed that recruitment video, The Siege at Fritzlar. She made me watch it at least four times, and I never got tired of it. Those three soldiers, taking down a 'Pod with nothing but cable wire? That was pure unadulterated badassery." Sadie puts her glass down and, after a moment's thought, signals for another.
"Damn fine it was, too. Trial by fire for sure - I was just a kid, running with Kreuzberg. The aliens punched a hole in the outer wall, so us, Steglitz and Tiergarten stayed to hold it while ten squads held the front gate. We didn't get any Sectopods, but holy shit did they throw Sectoids at us. Wave after wave... fuck me. It was just as well they gave the retreat order when they did, because we were about to fold. Wasn't even ten of us left, and I was shooting a handgun... caught a mag round straight through the shoulder and that was that, they dragged me out on the same helicopter as the commander and I was under for the next two weeks while they fixed me up."
She grins, wryly, a little for the glories of past battles and a little for the folly of her younger days.
"What about you? Don't tell me you got this far without getting into a few scrapes worth telling over a drink."Julia's eyes widen with excitement behind her glasses. "Where to start? Second Battle of New York, Tijuana Raids, Siege of Portland, Last Stand of Las Vegas... man, those were the days. Real, unrelenting resistance, day in and day out. Felt like the fighting never stopped back then. It's a miracle I've made it as far as I have, honestly." She emptied her drink and wiped her mouth the the back of her hand. "Man, did I hear about some of those. The Return to New York, huh? The one where ADVENT fired on the Statue of Liberty to bring down a supposed sniper nest? Where were you in that?"
"Oh, Christ, yeah I was in the thick of that. My job was to sneak behind enemy lines and take out ADVENT commanders; ended up celebrating my nineteenth birthday by putting a machete through General Elizabeth Tyler's head. It was some of the scariest experiences of my life too. They managed to catch me once-" Julia pulled her shirt up a bit to reveal a patchwork of scars across her back "-which was the last time I made that mistake. My squad busted me out before they got around to offing me, but at the time I would've probably preferred it. Nasty people, ADVENT guards." Sadie considers her glass, seemingly deciding to take her time with this one.
"Affirmative. I was on the other side of an op like that, about three years after Fritzlar - we busted into one of their prisons in Egypt looking for our CO. He was long gone, but damn will I remember the shit I saw in there. Can't have been any worse than living through it, but at least my experiences in ADVENT captivity have been short. Mind you, you should have seen the way we went into that prison - snuck into the freight yard, opened up a Sectopod, ripped all the guts out of that head and had a party in there. When the engineers in the prison opened it up to see why it wasn't powering on..."
The young woman smiles. What a fight it had been.Julia snorted with laughter at that. "Classic Trojan horse maneuver." A few moments of comfortable silence passed while Julia tossed her glass from one hand to the other. "Say," she mused, "How'd you end up with the Archangels anyways?" "That's a name I've not heard for a long time. It was pretty recent, I guess, maybe just a few weeks before Early Harvest - your op. I was on a cargo ship the Paris cell were using to haul supplies across the ocean, hopped off around Massachusetts when I heard the cell there were having a tough time of it. We were extracting from a raid on an ADVENT storehouse when Sherman squad came by and raised such a goddamn ruckus the dropships chasing them caught us in the act. We ended up in the same firefight, so they picked us up in their extraction. About half of us joined up on the spot, and here I am."Julia nodded. "Funny how things work out. My brother, Ryan, was with XCOM during the war. He died fighting the aliens. Dogovich and the other old survivors seem to have had a lot of respect for him. Look at me now, twenty years down the road, serving with the a lot of the same people he did." Sadie closes her eyes for a moment.
"Sorry to hear about your brother. My father never worked with XCOM, but he died fighting the aliens too. You think it would bother you, if you went out doing the same?""Nah," Julia shook her head. "At this rate it's probably a best-case scenario." "Yeah, you've got a point there.""Well," Julia stood and slammed her glass onto the bar. "It was good talking to you, Sadie. You're a cool gal, y'know? I'll see you around." Sadie nods, looking into her half-empty glass.
"You too, Shepherd. Glad we met, you know?"
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Post by KiloCubed on Mar 19, 2016 18:54:42 GMT -5
Sadie finds AT-3156 inspecting one of the assault rifles in the armoury. The weapon is broken down on a workbench, the upper and lower receivers separated and the operating mechanism in a state of partial disassembly. He seems mostly absorbed in the work, and doesn't turn around until she speaks his name.
"AT-3156?"
"Reporting."
"Do you want to spar?"
"Spar? Interrogative: please clarify."
"A fight, but for training only."
"Adversarial combat. Affirmative. Interrogative: armour and weapons?"
"Neither."
"Affirmative."
The ADVENT trooper - former ADVENT trooper, she reminds herself - puts down the mechanism he was working on and steps away from the workbench. Even up close he looks like every other ADVENT trooper Sadie's seen, killed or been shot at by in her years, and it's only with an effort of will that she suppresses the urge to find a real weapon. He presses unseen latches and shrugs off the various plates that comprise his armour, and nods at her in a gesture that seems too human to be coming from that helmeted head.
Sadie steps in instantly with a strike to the neck that AT-3156 blocked, driving her hand outside with his left and throwing a straight punch with his right. Sadie threw herself forward, absorbing the trooper's hit before it could gather speed, driving her shoulder into his chest. AT-3156 took a step backwards to absorb the momentum, but kept initiative and knocked her over with a solidly-placed leg. Sadie was quick enough to drag him down with her with an arm around his neck, but still ended up underneath with his forearm placed gently at her throat. After a moment, she grunted and nodded at him.
3156 helped Sadie up and stepped back. She'd displayed typical action; trying to get him down quickly and avoid his heavy hits. However, she hadn't really counted on the fact that he was unnaturally strong enough to simply knock her over and hold her down. He blinked under his helmet.
"ADVENT troops fight heavy. Trained in knocking down, holding down. Not in dealing with maneuverable target. Cannot deal with that in field. If possible kill quick."
Sadie nodded, thinking. "Again?"
AT-3156 affirmed. He opened, moving quickly left and forcing her to reposition - leading with a sharp left jab going high, obviously intended to force her to drop their primary weapon were she holding one. Sadie ducked under it and rolled to avoid a kick that was slow to come out, coming up behind him and re-engaging with a vicious elbow jab to his ribs. Against all her instincts, she reached around with her right arm, hooked his upper body and tried to roll him backwards over her knee. He was surprised, going over, but reacted quickly to throw his knees up and control the movement. Coming back up, the trooper caught himself on one booted foot and sprang straight back at her in a frighteningly powerful lunge. She dropped into another roll low and right, letting him sail over her, kicking to knock his legs out - pushing him just far enough out of balance to send him sprawling. Flipping up far enough to dive after him, she pinned before he was able to twist away and it was his turn to give the nod.
Sadie got up off him and extended a hand. His attacks were fast and very very powerful, but he seemed to have some difficulty with precision - and he tended to overcommit to attacks.
"Fight hard, but not with more force than you can recover from. Don't let them knock you down with your own attack."
There was a crowd starting to gather. Sadie nodded quietly to herself and made eye contact to more clearly indicate her intention to speak.
"Last one. Full armour and weapons."
"Affirmative."
Sadie stepped away, picking up her armour and bracers, strapping them on. She checked her knife was in its holster on her chest rig and opened up her locker. After a moment's consideration, she chose her long-bladed katana and clipped it snugly to the back of her vest before picking up her shotgun and looping its sling over her head. The closer she was to combat load, the more valuable it would be.
The pair faced off in the centre of a growing crowd.
"Let's make this quick."
"Affirmative."
By unspoken agreement they started close enough to each other that shooting would be unwise. Both soldiers opened by lashing out at each other with their weapons, simultaneously stepping backwards. Sadie saw him go for his knife and decided she had insufficient time to draw her katana. She ripped her own from its sheath with her off-hand, driving low to interrupt his footwork, trying to grab his knife arm and neutralise the threat. He stepped smartly away and swiped at her grabbing hand, driving her back. Sadie took the moment, stepped further away and reached over her shoulder for her sword - forcing AT-3156 to close range and be the aggressor. AT-3156 pulls back, instead, and grabs for his rifle as Sadie finishes the draw. She leaps forward and slashes with the flat of her katana, knocking him sideways, but there's an undeniable click from the primed weapon. Outcome: both dead.
"Draw?"
"Affirmative."
The crowd murmured to itself, starting to disperse. Some continued to stand there, still discussing and going over the finer details of the fight, while others had only been watching for entertainment. Sadie wasn't worried; she'd fought well, tested several experimental moves, and learned more than enough to make it worthwhile. She saw a familiar face and walked over, unclipping her chest rig and vest as she moved.
"Bridges. See anything useful?"
Claire was paying attention. That was plain to see by anyone casually looking her way, as clear blue eyes dart from blade to knee, from fist to gun. But the question still takes her by surprise. "Wh-what?" she stammers, eyes now startled wide. The few chuckles mixed in with the murmuring, whether directed at her or not, don't help.
"Y-you're both dead," she says abruptly, retaking her confidence by force. "There is no draw, you're just dead."
Sadie chuckles. "You're probably right, Bridges. But I didn't ask you who won, I asked you if you saw anything useful."
A nervous frown plays across Claire's lips as her eyes dart among the troops nearby. She swallows, turns her eyes halfway to the ceiling, then jams them straight ahead and stands rigidly upright. "Yes, sir! ADVENT troopers move heavy and hit heavy. Step and redirect. Sir!"
"Excellent observation, soldier. Engage without committing to draw them into an attack, then make use of the opening and aggress them to maximise the advantage."
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steam50's OOC note: 3156 either speaks military-radio-style (sentence intention given first, to prevent misinterpretation) or in the fashion of an RTS unit (every single one of those "Affirmatives" had the exact same pitch and tone) in the English language.
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Post by HSAR on Mar 19, 2016 19:46:50 GMT -5
02:03:23 Mon Mar 10 2035 - After Operation Dragon Song
The Guerilla Tactics School at 0200 was completely empty, which suited Sadie just fine. There were times when she didn't mind - welcomed, even - the critical eyes of her fellow soldiers. With Claire, she preferred the presumed authority and silence offered by an empty training room.
The two of them stepped away from their latest face-off. Sadie grabbed a water bottle while Claire wiped her forehead with a towel. She's shaping up very well, Sadie thought.
"Do you understand what I mean, now? Being aggressive is not the point. Applying pressure until they make a mistake is the point. One last time, show me you can see the mistake. Show me you can make it into an advantage."
A frustrated grunt is all the warning Sadie gets before the girl slams bodily into her side. Water flies from the bottle, loosed as much by the gut-thumping impact as by reflex. Before Claire can take advantage of her position, the veteran twists, tenses and brings her elbow down. A soft crunch drills deep into muscle, spreading from below the shoulder blade through the ribcage. With wind and fight knocked from her, Claire cries out feebly, signalling yet another hollow victory against the younger girl's unchecked aggression. To end the surprise bout, Sadie needs only shift her weight and let momentum send the teen crashing to the ground.
Claire lies where she fell, motionless except for constrained breathing and seemingly defeated once and for all, until a cough wrenches a pained whine from lungs too sore and weary to care how badly she wants to hide how beaten she really is. "You said look for a mistake," she says weakly, conserving her limited breaths."You looked away. Again?"
Sadie doesn't say anything, at first, instead taking Claire's wrist and checking her pulse: it was as she expected.
"No, I think we are done for now. Sit up and we will move on."
She took a seat beside Claire, leaning back against the bench slowly - as much to give Claire time to catch her breath as to gather her thoughts.
"I worked with a cell based in London for a while, callsign Mountbatten. The leader, a man called Yaxley. He taught me that life in combat is all about kinetics, but also that life outside of combat is about statics. Explain that to me."
Claire sits up reluctantly, letting slip an involuntary squeak as bruised muscles begin to clamor louder than the fading adrenaline. She shakes her head once she's set her back against the wall. "I don't know what it means." In the silence that follows, her mind revs into gear. Thoughts tumble like stuffed hamsters in a washing machine, screaming for help as rinse cycle whirrs up to full speed. "Does he mean life should stay the -- but that doesn't make sense. Life isn't the same as before. It can't be."
Sadie nodded slowly, motioning at her to keep thinking. "Yaxley and his kind are the people you want in a firefight. The quiet ones, those are the most dangerous. You see what I'm getting at now?"
"C'mon Sadie, I'm tired." She isn't even bothering to try and disguise the whine in her voice. "Can't you just tell me?" But when Claire gets thinking, she keeps thinking, just like when she gets training, she keeps training until she's ready to fall over. A wounded flush spreads from cheeks to moistening eyes. She brushes roughly at her face, but the hurt still trickles into uncertain words. "A-are you saying I should just shut up and d-do my job?"
Sadie's eyes are closed, her voice calm. "When you're downrange, never stop moving. But when you get out, it's good to slow down. To take a moment. Someone that clearly sees when to relax and when to be serious - that was the man Yaxley was, and he was all the more devastating in combat for it."
Claire sits silently for some time, wiping her face clear of sweat and grime, clear of tears and a trail of drying blood leaking from a split eyebrow. Only the tears come back again and again. As she sits against the wall, facing an empty room, Claire wipes at her eyes again, and a third time, before the emptiness turns her heart inside out. A pair of tears slip when she speaks, her voice empty, yet full of every fear and worry she'd drilled away in the past week -- every regret she replaced with a bruise, and every plea for help that she drowned in sweat. "I had a life. A boyfriend. We ... we watched movies and we played games... I don't know how to slow down. I - I don't know how to stop, 'cause when ... "
Emptiness gives way to the tide, emotions constrained in the quivering floodgate of inadequate words. "We ... And ... I wanna go back. I - I want to be dumb again. Ignorant, I don't want to know nothing."
"I wish I'd never hacked, I wish I'd never looked, and I just can't. I can't go back. I had a life ... I don't know what I'm doing." By the end, the girl's words are unintelligible, wracked with sobs and poured into knees drawn tight to her face.
Perhaps surprising both of them, Sadie put an arm around her. The older woman's voice voice was steady and quiet. "The world... is what it is. We need to keep looking forward - the past is lost to us."
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Post by HSAR on Mar 20, 2016 14:59:29 GMT -5
02:51:38 Sun Apr 01 2035 - After Operation Little Prince
The infirmary was dimly lit in soft blues and whites when Sadie struggled to consciousness. From the lack of corridor lights and activity outside, it must be night-time. For a moment, the disconnect between her current surroundings and her last memory - taking a stomach hit from an ADVENT Stun Lancer that had been just a little too fast for her - overwhelmed her, and she was forced to damp down a rush of adrenalin. She looked around, assessing her surroundings, but everything seemed normal. A small pitcher of water sat on the table between beds, and in the next bed along was Campbell. Despite a slight tingling in her fingers that made her a little clumsy, Sadie managed to pour herself a drink of water.
"Hey, Penny. They get you, too?"
Penny stopped staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above her and turned her gaze slightly in Sadie's direction.
"You could say that," she said. "I mean, for all I remember after the mission started, I may have come home without a scratch and fallen down the stairs on my way to the barracks."
She tapped her forehead.
"I vaguely remember someone saying I had a concussion. Apparently my helmet stopped the bullet but not the trauma."
"That's a hell of a fall down the stairs, Penny. Well, you were at the peak of health when that Stun Lancer jumped me, so it must have been exciting after that."
"Probably," Penny agreed. "I remember bits and pieces still, and I think there was some sort of pink slime monster or something."
Sadie fills another glass and tried to hand it to Penny, but is forced to leave it on the side closest to her instead. Stun lances are technically non-lethal, but the nerve damage they cause can be crippling without careful attention. She'll need to spend a lot of time in the gym working on fine motor control once the doctors let her go.
"Slime monsters, huh? Heard about them a lot, but only saw one once, from real far away. Nasty."
"Thank you." Penny said, taking a sip from the glass. "That Adler fellow, the sharpshooter... he says they can shapeshift, too, which is a scary thought."
Sadie raises a brow at that, before relaxing back into her bed.
"Well, isn't that something. Cure for cancer, mind control and now shapeshifters. Think the aliens have anything more in their bag of tricks?"
"Probably. Whatever it is, I don't like to think about it. We're already outgunned."
Penny sighed and looked back at the ceiling.
The two of them are quiet for a moment.
"I was in a huge firefight with ADVENT, a few years ago, out in Europe. Small town called Fritzlar where - well, it doesn't matter. I took a mag round to the shoulder and they medivac'd me out - flew me away in a real, flying machine made before Unification, flown by a pilot who'd trained to fly it all those years ago. After they patched me up, I went to thank him, and he told me his bird was never going to fly again. Not enough parts, not enough knowledge, not enough fuel."
Sadie has to lie back for a moment, momentarily winded by the force of recollection.
"We've always been fighting a losing war, Penny. Always a little less support, a little less manpower. I haven't seen a rocket launcher, let alone fired one, for years. But I've got to keep fighting, and so do you."
"Yeah, of course, I just..."
Penny took a deep breath.
"When you're out there," she said. "do you ever have moments of...?"
She trailed off, turning her head slightly in Sadie's direction.
"Moments when you suddenly realize what you've gotten yourself into, y'know?" she said.
She paused again.
"It was something about... about what they were doing out there," she continued. "just... gunning down unarmed residents -- people who couldn't defend themselves -- without so much as flinching. I was raised to think the aliens cared about us, but... "
She remembered news broadcasts she had seen boasting the destruction of some "terrorist stronghold" or "enemy outpost." How many of those had been humble villages like the one from which she had just returned? How many gallons of innocent blood had been spilled at the hands of humanity's so-called saviors?
"I guess I should've known better."
Sadie doesn't hesitate to lock eyes. Her gaze is tired, but the energy that drives her is still there, smouldering under the surface.
"No, I get it. It's helpful, sometimes, to step back a bit."
Her expression darkens without warning.
"Innocent blood's a terrible thing."
"It is," Penny said - her voice small.
There was a long pause before she spoke again.
"Did I ever tell you why I wanted to join XCOM?"
Sadie considers.
"Don't think you ever did. It's not something the Resistance, at least, talks about much. You want to?"
"I suppose so," Penny said. "I... uh... lost my sister at a gene clinic. I mean literally lost."
She sat up and tried to stifle the pain these memories were stirring within her.
"I brought her there for a regular checkup and never saw her again."
She took a deep, shaky lungful of air.
"I think my parents blamed me for it, too. I... I've spent... Christ, almost five whole years at this point... trying to find her, hoping that she was still alive."
She bit her lip to suppress a sob she felt building up in her throat.
"But after seeing what little regard those... monsters have for human life, I... I..."
She drew in a sharp breath and brushed a tear away from her cheek. Her mouth opened, but the lump in her throat that had been building since the start of the conversation was too large now to permit speech, so she just let her face fall forward into her hands instead.
Sadie feels a faintly alarming absence of any emotion at all.
"Sister, huh. How did you wind up here?"
Penny turned her head to the side and rested it on her knees.
"All the digging I was doing caught the attention of some underground XCOM recruiters,"she said. "and, well...you know the rest."
"Funny, the places family will take you. Further than duty or friends, often."
"I suppose so," Penny said, resting her chin on her knees.
After a long, long stretch of silence Sadie speaks up.
"For me," she began and had to start again, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.
"It was my father. He wasn't XCOM, or Resistance. But he was military, back when Germany had one, and because of the aliens I'll never see him again."
"That's... " Penny said. "that must be tough."
She wasn't sure what else to say. As much as she'd grieved over her sister, she'd never had to console someone else who'd lost a loved one before.
Sadie had to take a moment, fighting through a drugged haze that threatened to descend.
"He gave me my fighting spirit. Sometimes, out there, I can hear him. Feel his approving smile. They say people never die as long as they're remembered."
"Yeah," Penny said. "that's certainly a good way to look at things."
She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
"Better than bawling over it, anyway," she said with a half-hearted chuckle.
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Post by Random Commander on Apr 24, 2016 22:33:01 GMT -5
April 2nd, 2035. 0535 hours Avenger Living Quarters A bit before Winfrey finished Specialist Training ----------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael flicks the curtain surround Rebecca's bed a few times, making a dull thumping sound and waving it slightly. "Hey, Winfrey. Want to grab a drink?"
There wasn't a moan or a groan or even a growl, but a whimpering sound from behind the curtain. It seems Rebecca may be having a bad dream again.
Eventually Rebecca did respond, pushing the curtain aside and poking her head out. From what Michael can see, she was wearing her fatigues still, she was just hiding herself because of insecurity reasons, probably.
"Er... what again?" she questioned with weary eyes.
Michael's eye widened a bit. "Oh shit, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
He thumbed over his shoulder. "I was going to grab a drink, if you wanted to come. Figured we could catch up a bit, but uh... you seem a little busy." He flashed Rebecca a brief grin.
"No, no, it's alright. In fact you did me a service, I was getting to the worse part of my nightmare."
Rebecca took a moment to study Michael, and then something clicked. "Um... Sure! I'm up for a drink! Yes, anything to get my mind off of aliens and bandits!"
She got up and out of her bunk and seemed eager to follow, a cross of desperation and trauma in her eyes contrasts the upbeat demeanor that the rest of her is showing. Times indeed were tough for her.
Michael's bright smile faded somewhat as he noted her eyes and listened to her response, but he chose not to address it directly and began to walk. The doors slid apart with a smooth hiss as they exited the barracks and headed towards the bar.
"I know I said it before, but it's good to see you're alive and well. The familiar faces around here have been one of my biggest reliefs in years."
"Oh, likewise!" Rebecca replied, managing to hold her stress in. "Especially you and Adler, it's always nice to have old friends back. And some members of Charlie Squad, too!" She sighed, "too bad Adler is the only capable leader from the days of old. Dogovich is practically retired, Ovdat is missing and Saunders is insane. Not to mention dead. But, I hope I can have good faith in some of the newer faces to rise in the ranks."
"Don't forget de Korte," Michael adds as he paces down the hall beside her. "But yea. It's still good to see MacGael, Park, and the Averills around."
He looks to her. "So what ever happened to you after the attack on the base? How did you escape?"
"Well, I was with Delta section at the time. I was still traumatized by the whole thing, especially with... her..." She shuddered as she remembered.
"Who was her?" Michael frowned with concern.
"No, no, Hearne." Rebecca corrected. "She nearly blew my entire arm off, shooting me in the shoulder like that. I realize she was under mind control, but she didn't even apologize afterward! Just... avoided me, and ended up running away."
Michael blinked in surprise. "That sounds awful. She must have been ashamed, or, something... if she was avoiding you." He exhaled slowly and looked forward again. "I guess it's good that you're still alive, if nothing else."
"Yeah... best not to talk about that. Long story short I traveled with Ivan until he dropped me off at my old refugee house in Great Britain. Said he had a resistance force to take to the Turkish border or something - I don't remember exactly - and was sorry that I couldn't join with him. Then I helped turn the refugee center into a speak-easy from ADVENT rule, and ran the thing until... yeah..." The troubled look in her eyes was momentarily back, but then she remembered something. "At least my shoulder had healed..."
Michael chose not to push the subject, looking back to her and quickly offering a smile. "It sounds like you've been plenty productive then. Probably changed a lot of peoples' lives for the better."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Rebecca suddenly frowned. "What good that did..." She stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to holding back tears.
Michael frowned and stopped, opening his mouth to speak but failing to find the right words as he watched her tear up. He looked to his left briefly, then to his right, before finally moving to hug Rebecca wordlessly after a brief hesitation.
She was startled at first, but she definitely started feeling better after Weisman's embrace. Eventually she wrapped her own arms around Michael, squeezing tightly. She sniffled a couple of times, but overall she managed to maintain her composure.
Michael holds her until she regains her composure, then gives her a brief squeeze before letting go. He offers her another smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's go get a drink."
"Yeah, let's-- wait..." Rebecca quickly checked the time before making a decision. She smiled again, "yeah, I got plenty of time before classes, so I guess I can have a drink!" Then she chuckled, "good lord I sound like I'm back in university!"
Michael grins at that and turns to walk. "Just like old times. You might as well call me Mikey... and it's called college you Brit."
Rebecca giggled this time as she followed Michael once more. "To each their own, Mikey. Excuse me for liking my country the way it was back then!" She did seem to have calmed down quite a bit.
"And, if it isn't any trouble, you can call me 'Becca. Most of my friends shorten my name, anyway."
"Alright Becca. I like it. Is that new?" He looked to her curiously, smiling in satisfaction with the direction the conversation has taken.
"Well, people liked calling me that, so no I guess it's not new? I kind of like the nickname 'Mikey' too, your friends call you by that often?" Rebecca smiled back, color seeming to return to her skin.
Michael laughs briefly at her question. "Only you. But I like it that way. If anyone else called me Mikey I'd probably blow a fuse. Makes me sound like a kid."
"Oh, I must be really special then, huh?" Rebecca chuckled, "It must be the fact that I take after my mum on being... well... motherly? Kind of like the 'you do anything to my child and I will smack you with a rolling pin so hard you won't be seeing straight for the next week' type of motherly, but still motherly." She was now grinning.
"Oh so I'm your child now, huh?" Michael grinned and shook his head. "Guess it makes sense. I may have needed one too many of your medkits during the invasion. I must have been annoying as hell for you to look after."
"If anything, it was Nikole doing all the bickering. But with her out of the picture, I guess I have to pick up for her, huh?" Rebecca began to actually laugh this time. "I kind of like you, so I don't want to scold you too much, if that's alright."
"Fuck, right. You just had that rifle... look at me, getting senile in my old age." He rubbed his forehead with an embarrassed grin. "Sure, yea, I'll appreciate that. I guess we'll see how patient you are when it comes time to remove a mag round from my leg or something."
"Hey, just because we're older doesn't mean we kick less arse than we did back then. Just picture it..." Whether it was some freak fit of euphoria or just Rebecca's age getting to her, she still looked really happy being lost in her own world as she wrapped an arm around Michael, dragged him closer to her, and outstretched her hand dramatically.
"If we can somehow get most of the elements of Alpha squad together - You, me, Adler and whoever else - we could be well-respected soldiers and blindingly outstanding role models for the younger generation of resistance fighters. ADVENT and the aliens will practically wet their collective trousers when us veterans are at work!"
Now it was Michael's turn to laugh as Rebecca shared her prophecy with him in dramatic fashion, watching her hand wave across the air in front of them. "It's definitely been doing me some good, being back in the field. Makes me feel young and useful again."
The two of them make it to the bar and Michael moved to sit in a stool with an open seat next to it. "What do you drink these days?"
Rebecca took her seat beside Michael. "Usually, it would be my standard Newcastle ale, or if I'm feeling special, a fermented apple cider. But showing up to Guerrilla Tactics School in the morning all piss-drunk isn't very good character, so I'm just going to have a latte. Pretty please?"
"Oh, come on. One beer won't hurt." He offered the bartender a smile and a shrug. "I'll take a beer. Whatever you've got a lot of, I'm not picky. Surprise me."
Rebecca looked at Weisman for a moment, then rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Oh, very well, but just one, okay? Your finest ale available, please."
The bartender noted that Rebecca seems a bit more cheerier than usual today, and disappeared in the back to ready the drinks. Michael grinned in triumph and nudged her a bit with his elbow. "'atta' girl. I'll take the heat if you get in trouble."
The bartender returns with their drinks and Michael takes a sip, tasting it carefully before setting it down with a small, approving nod before turning to her. "So what are you doing down there anyways?"
Rebecca took a sip of her own drink, setting it down and giving a small "hmm" of satisfaction. "Well, they are pretty much programming tips and tactics on how to use an X-COM issued GREMLIN in combat situations. It's really quite intriguing. GREMLINs can specialize in keeping the squad in prime condition with medical equipment or disrupting the enemy as a secondary, dynamic weapon."
Michael lifted a brow, taking another sip as she spoke before replying. "Yea? That's cool stuff. I was always interested in tech and gadgets and stuff, but I never really got around to looking too much into it." He shrugged. "Maybe in another life."
"Oh, you never know. The aliens have all this brand new crap that we can play with when we manage to pry it off their dead bodies." Rebecca grasped her drink thoughtfully, "maybe Shen can still make something pretty cool that we can put into use?"
"Maybe," Michael pondered. "We used to do it all the time. Maybe Tygan and her will figure out enough of their tech to come up with something like that old SHIV we used to have."
"Oh lord, at our current state, that would be a godsend!" She proceeded to drink to what Michael said.
Michael grinned and drank with her, then continued to ponder as Rebecca's wistful outlook started to rub off on him . "Maybe Shen can reverse-engineer their plasma grenades, too. Those things got the job done better than the grenades we manage to scavenge."
"You know what? I'm not even sure ADVENT troops are allowed to have grenades in the first place. They're supposed to be peacekeepers... well, emphasis on 'supposed to.'"
Michael nodded in agreement. "I've heard about some of the officers carrying them around, but that's it. I guess it makes sense that they want to minimize collateral damage if there's ever an engagement. Blowing shit up makes everyone look bad."
Rebecca gave the topic a little more thought as she sipped her drink once more. "I don't know, it seems like ADVENT is starting to get a little more aggressive with their peacekeeping approach. Think of it, we're not the only resistance group. We're the biggest, but there surely are others. In the aliens eyes, there's too many resistance groups at the same time. The security was therefore increased and strategies tweaked to more inhumane standards."
She raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't put it past them to start employing grenades against resistance forces like us."
"Sure, but they'll probably be pretty selective about it. I mean, they don't want to go around blowing up their own city centers in front of civilians, right? It'll probably be more of a last ditch effort type of thing, or maybe isolated to more wilderness-type areas."
"True, then they resort to MECs within their megacities, those damn clankers with the grenade launchers and such. They have finer targeting than just lobbing an explosive pineapple, but they are more destructive." Rebecca sips the last of her ale and double-checks the time. "Oh, bugger! I better get going!" she exclaims before she hastily sits up and puts her glass down.
Weisman swirled what's left of his drink and decided he'll stay and finish it at his leisure, giving her a wave. "Enjoy your training. And tell Dogovich I said hi."
((OOC Note: This was very, VERY late. I just forgot about it. But now I remembered it and so here you go. Sorry for the long time rewind!))
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Post by Random Commander on Apr 27, 2016 1:02:12 GMT -5
MAY 25, 2035 APPROACHING GUERRILLA TRAINING SCHOOL 2220 HOURS -------------------------------------------------------
"No, seriously, those Faceless blobs of horror are going to be there again."
Sparkplug was circling Rebecca worriedly as she babbled on about her fears of the next mission. "They're unarmored, so the best way to deal with them would be shotgun-type weapons, but what if that's not enough?"
G-R-E-N-A-D-E-S-?
"Um... possibly, but Weisman's in medbay. And Devlin - while he's good with explosives as well, he can't hit the broad side of a dropship at point-blank. I believe that clutch shot with the Faceless escorts was Irish luck... or was it Scottish? Bugger it all..."
She approached the gym that's near the Tactics School and stopped short before going in. "Alright, thank you for your input. You can go... uh... Install important Portals XP updates or something! " N-O-S-U-C-H-O-P-E-R-A-T-I-N-G-S-Y-S-T-E-M
"Whatever you have for a computer nowadays! Just, I need to exercise my stress out."
Sparkplug finally went on its way, and Rebecca stepped through to the gym. There were a few soldiers already working out, but what caught her eye was that Adler was jogging on the treadmill - unusual since she practically only sees him either asleep or at the range. Come to think of it, I saw him in the range more than in his bunk. Whatever, I know he has experience leading squads, maybe I can ask him for advice...
Rebecca took a deep breath and mounted the treadmill next to Adler. She glanced halfway in his direction for a few seconds before setting the treadmill.
"Hello, Corporal," Ziv said, not turning his head.
"Sergeant," Rebecca replied and nodded her head in greeting. She started at a easy jog.
"The last retaliation mission I headed was an unsatisfactory success" she began seemingly out of nowhere. "Now I am supposed to head another one, and two of my go-to candidates are not cleared for active duty. What's worse, I am the only trained medic active in the roster, so there is almost no room for error. I know high-speed, high-intensity missions are not your thing, but I would like to hear your input regardless." Instead of the cheery, caring expression she used to show 20 years ago, she now expresses near-constant anguish, thinking fruitlessly on ways to avoid the inevitable. Rebecca knows she should act better than this in front of a superior officer, but in the Avenger, there is no room for a full military structure, and therefore no one is totally superior to another.
Ziv doesn't answer immediately, slowing his treadmill down slightly before replying. "I overheard you talking to your Gremlin. If you're worried about more Faceless, bring Bridges."
Rebecca, too, slowed down her treadmill down by a bit. It took her a moment to see where Adler was going. "Scanners! But... it's best used inside of a great lot of civilians, where aliens are sure to be. Keinitz should be good for clearing the way beforehand... but I'm hesitant to consider that Devlin would be a good choice for crowd control."
"You could bring both him and Vaughan. More grenades means less relying on MacGael's marksmanship."
"Ah, splendid idea. Perhaps... Oh bugger, I wish we still had those Battle Scanners from the old war, they would certainly be useful here."
Rebecca cleared her throat, "One more thing: last time I made the mistake of not having powerful weapons like Sniper Rifles, which would really help ease a bad situation when the right shot is taken. And I think some of the buildings and objects could be good vantage points for a Sniper in the heat of the moment. Though you are the best of that expertise, you still don't handle well in quick, close encounters. Though I do not know if our other Sharpshooter, Windwell, would be taking the same sit-and-shoot path or go specialize in pistols in case the longshot is threatened for close-quarters attack."
"So I would like to know: Should I take you and hope your experience outweighs your vulnerabilities, or should I take Windwell and hope he handles well in a situation like this?"
"Windwell is unproven, and taking both him and Vaughn leaves you without enough experienced troops. But if you're expecting a close-range fight, why do you want a Sharpshooter at all?"
"I'm not expecting the Sharpshooter to be WITH the squad as they go and rush for the poor civvies, Adler. A Sharpshooter is the fire support I need when the heavy MagCannons keep whiffing. And since Sniper rifles are usually more reliable, the squad cannot risk losing the ability to have a clutch shot and save what was otherwise a doomed soldier's life."
Her worry and fear became apparent as Rebecca talked on, "Because when we failed to kill the Muton when it mattered the most, Campbell almost got stabbed through the heart with an energy bayonet. ALMOST. I don't want to lose a soldier under my limited leadership, and we should not lose too many if I could help it!"
Ziv said nothing for a moment, unsure how to respond. Eventually he said "I don't think tactical advice is what you really need. I doubt I can tell you anything you don't already know. But you don't think you can protect your squad, so you're asking for help anyway. Is that about right?"
It was Rebecca's turn to be silenced in thought, as this question caught her off-guard. She eventually exerted a short, silent chuckle. "It seems sort of counter-productive when you put it that way. No, I just didn't want another close call. With your tendency to constantly train and better yourself, I had assumed you are a man of efficiency, and I guess that's why I came to you..."
She glanced in Adler's direction, "I need to be better, but I'm not sure I'm doing it the right way."
Ziv smiled. "A good attitude to have, but don't sell yourself short. You wouldn't have survived this long if you didn't have a solid grasp of tactics already."
Rebecca was not expecting Ziv's reaction to be that full of praise. Regardless, she did feel slightly honoured. "Well, I do have a tendency to somehow pull a hail-mary out of my arse at the darkest of moments. Alright," she nodded, "I'll keep an open mind."
A couple of minutes passed, as neither soldier had quite finished their run on the treadmill and there wasn't much else to say on the current subject. Then a thought popped into Winfrey's mind.
"You know, you used to be looked up to 20 years ago, but now the old faces around here have mixed feelings about you, and I haven't the slightest idea why. Is there something I'm missing?"
Ziv's smile vanished. "After 20 years, I find it hard to believe you haven't heard."
"During those 20 years I was heavily traumatized and losing friends that I end up forgetting about anyway. Now that I'm seeing them again, so much has bloody changed about them. Did you know MacGael of Old Charlie has miraculously improved his aim somehow? And Dogovich, I find it hard to believe he stopped fighting due to his age..."
"I don't think any of us expected to live this long."
"This is true. But I have to know, what's the fuss with you? I know you had some shady backstory, but I don't think it came back to screw old XCOM over. I'm pretty sure the aliens did a pretty good job of doing that by themselves."
Ziv stopped his treadmill. "That's... not entirely true."
Rebecca swallowed and her eyes went wide. Well, it shouldn't be too bad. Not like letting your entire community of good people get killed by ADVENT while you use the only escape route available - an escape route that also costed people's lives to make. I guess there really was a reason she... Serrana Mc-something... was paranoid about Adler.
"Well, don't hesitate" Rebecca cautiously coaxed, "it's not like it's the worst thing in the world to happen - we know what that is already."
"After we assaulted the alien base, I was concerned that they might try to wipe Xcom out for good. So I came up with a contingency plan. When we were attacked, I triggered a virus that brought down the base security system and hijacked it's communications, then sent all Xcom's research data to the Mossad. But it also left the network crippled, so Xcom couldn't recover the data itself, and couldn't call for help. Then I made sure I evacuated with the truck carrying the artifacts they managed to save, so the Mossad could steal them when they extracted me."
He sighed. "Xcom could have regrouped after the evacuation, but I left them with no way to keep fighting."
Rebecca took the time to truly feel the momentum of what Adler just said. She turned off the treadmill, took a deep breath, and pondered some more. Somehow, she couldn't tell if she was supposed to be afraid of Adler or understanding of him. He thought he could beat the aliens with his own team, on his own terms. And XCOM, without their research data and vast supplies, were forced to...
Rebecca gradually laughed. What seemed like mania to anyone overhearing was actually irony in her perspective. "Adler, I am beginning to question my morals on a day-to-day basis, but this I know for a fact: Despite what everyone else thinks you did, you have actually done the right thing by taking away XCOM's Data."
Ziv gave her an odd look. "I agree, but I'm guessing your reasons for saying that are different to mine."
Rebecca shrugged, "probably. If XCOM still had that data and tried to continue the fight against the aliens, we all would've been killed. We just simply don't have enough firepower to defeat an entire alien fleet! But since you took away that data, and forced us to pretty much go into hiding, we preserved our beliefs and our tactics, and we have reemerged to fight again!"
She turned serious and stared directly at Adler. "You did something I could never have done 20 years ago: You saved us, Ziv."
"I don't think Bradford would have been that careless. XCOM would still have gone into hiding, but could have re-emerged sooner. ADVENT would be less established, and we wouldn't be racing against this 'Avatar Project'. Assuming we can win at all, the war would probably be over by now."
"But the Commander was captured, remember? Without his guidance, we were not as effective as we would be. Bradford would've believed he could do it without him, but - with all due respect - judging by his own understanding of 'tactics,' I presume that the war would indeed end sooner - but not with us as the victors. I'm thankful he still isn't careless and didn't become too brash this time around."
"Perhaps." Ziv conceded. "Not much point in speculating now."
"Indeed," Rebecca pensively agreed. She blinked and gave an idle smile to Adler. "I think I know what to do now, so I'd best send a roster to the Commander within the next few minutes. Thanks for the talk, sir-- I mean, Sergeant." Rebecca looked away in embarrassment at the mistake, then started walking.
"Any time, Corporal." Ziv replied, restarting his treadmill and returning to his jogging as if their conversation hadn't happened.
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Post by Ziv Adler on Apr 30, 2016 8:52:42 GMT -5
May 24, 2035
The cool breeze whistled through the trees as the two heavy trucks made their way towards the location of the supply cache: A small, decrepit hut with a porch in front. Inside were a wooden table and chair, just as rotten as the building itself. On the table was a plate with a half-eaten sandwich and a half-full cup of coffee, as well as a note that was pinned to the table with a knife. It read, "Be back in 5 off running an errand." The man who would normally be around to oversee the supply drop was nowhere to be seen.
The trucks pulled up outside the hut, and four people got out. Three members of the Avenger's crew to finish collecting this month's supply drop, and Ziv to keep watch.
"Hey! Jacobs!" One of the crewmen shouted, noticing their resistance contact was nowhere to be seen. "Where the hell is he?"
Ziv shouldered his mag rifle. "Klein and I will check inside," he said." Start the trucks and be ready to leave."
Klein drew his pistol and followed Ziv to the front door. It was already ajar. Ziv nudged it open, and the two entered the hut.
Klein read the note on the table. "Back in 5? We're in the middle of nowhere! What, is he off taking a shit?"
"He would have heard us calling for him." Ziv replied. "We're leaving."
"What? You think it's ADVENT?" Klein asked.
Ziv was already headed back outside. "No, but something is definitely wrong. Let's go."
The two of them exited the hut and jogged back towards the trucks.
As the two of them left the hut, there was a large crash from inside, caused the both of them to stop and turn around. There was a moment of tense silence before another crash was heard, followed by a loud grunt of exertion. The door slammed closed, then was pushed open again by a man covered in blood. He promptly fell to the ground after getting off the porch, showing off the large shards of mirror glass protruding from his back.
Klein started to go back for the injured man, but Ziv grabbed his arm. "Leave him!" he said, and the two of them turned and ran back to the trucks. Not bothering with the doors, they jumped into the back of the rear truck "Go!" Ziv shouted, aiming his rifle back at the hut.
As the two drivers hurried to put the trucks in gear, another man appeared in the doorway. He was bent over slightly and was holding his gut with a bloody hand. He wore a white shirt and green coat, and his face was sagging slightly. He stared at Ziv with bright orange pupils, before giving a small smirk and advancing on the man in the dirt. As the trucks started to pull away, he grabbed the man’s legs and pulled him back into the hut.
Ziv banged on the truck cabin behind him. "Stop!"
"What are you doing?!" Klein exclaimed, as the trucks came to a stop and Ziv dismounted.
"I know him. He's probably alone."
Ziv trained his rifle on the front door of the hut. "Fisher!" he shouted, "You can come out now, or we can come back with a full squad! You have 20 seconds!"
Ten seconds passed before a large crack was heard from inside the hut, followed by some shuffling around. Finally, as the 20 second mark came, Fisher emerged covered in a huge amount of blood and carrying a large knapsack slung around his shoulder. He put something in his hand into the bag.
"Long time no see you fucking traitor," he said to the man he knew from so many years ago.
"Drop the bag, and tell me what you're doing here." Ziv replied.
Fisher looked straight at Ziv as he carefully placed his bag on the ground, making sure he didn't bump the contents.
"I'm guarding the supplies that you just picked up,” he said. “As you just saw, I've done my job."
"Where's Jacobs?"
"He was busy. I’m his replacement."
Ziv looked skeptical. "We were told to expect Jacobs. We haven't heard about any change of plans, and that note inside was obviously not written by him. Try again."
Fisher looked back towards the table with the note stuck to it, then turned back to Ziv. "I wrote that note. I was dealing with that man you saw right there and it took longer than I thought it would."
Klein stepped forward. "What, you expect us to just take your word for it?" He asked. "I say we off this guy and bail. He's probably cleaned out the cache already."
Fisher looked at the extra person in the conversation and replied "Killing me is one of the stupidest things you could do, and Ziv would also know how difficult it would be to kill me."
Klein turned to Ziv. "Is this guy fucking for real?"
Ziv didn't answer. "What's in the bag?" He asked.
"My laptop, my revolver and some ADVENT chips. But you probably guessed the former two."
"What are you waiting for?" Klein asked. "Are we killing him or not?"
Ziv thinks for a moment before answering. "We'll bring him back with us. Find something to tie him up with."
Klein headed back to the trucks. "On the ground, Fisher." Ziv said.
Fisher squinted slightly. "I'll come with you, but do you really need to bind me? I mean, why would I try to kill an entire truck full of people armed to the teeth? Whilst I see them as allies?"
"I'm not asking again."
"Well good to see you still act like the alpha," Fisher said, laying on the ground. The dust made him cough slightly. "By the way, the guy back there might not actually be dead - I did bash his head open but I'm not sure what was in that syringe he used."
At this point, Klein returned with a length of rope and the rest of the team. Klein started tying Fisher's hands behind his back.
Ziv turned to the other two crewmen. "Check on the man inside. Be careful, he might be hostile."
Fisher was dragged to his feet by Klein, but he squatted to pick up his bag with his bound hands. "I'd be careful if I were you, it might have been Berserker hormones - makes the subject very difficult to put down and makes them hit like a truck."
"Then you can get back on the ground until we're sure he's dead." Ziv said.
Klein unceremoniously pushed Fisher back down, then grabbed his bag and tossed it a few feet away. Ziv still had his rifle trained on Fisher's head.
"DON'T FUCKING THROW THAT YOU MONGREL!" Fisher spat at Klein. "The intel I've been collecting on that is worth more than your fucking life will ever be!”
At this point a commotion could be heard inside the hut. A gunshot rang out, then a series of crunching sounds.
Ziv turned to Klein. "If he moves, shoot him." He said, before running towards the hut. Before he could reach it, the door flung open and with such force it nearly flew off its hinges. Stood in the doorway was a man slightly shorter than Ziv, dragging his right arm along the floor. In this stance, the open crack in his skull was clearly visible. His eyes were dark and bloody, and he gave Ziv a primal stare. As if he were prey.
Ziv didn't hesitate, opening fire just as the man charged. Most of his shots found their mark, but the assailant nearly managed to reach Ziv before collapsing, his torso turned to mulch by the high-velocity rounds. Ziv put one more in his head before turning back towards Fisher.
"Gee that was quick,” Fisher said. “I thought you would at least take another 5 seconds." he gave Ziv a blank stare as he rubbed his wrists, one foot on top of his unconscious guard. "Also I thought Klein would be of some use to you. Don't tell me to get on the ground again Ziv."
Ziv considered this for a moment, then shot Fisher in the leg. His tibia broke with a sickening crack as the impact knocked it out from under him.
Fisher grabbed his leg tightly as he went down, wincing slightly. "Damnit, shoot that bastard in the heart!" He shouted to Ziv. "Shots to the head won't stop him!"
Ziv circled around Fisher, keeping his gun pointed at him, until he could see both him and what was left of their attacker. Seeing that he was still not moving, he spoke to Fisher.
"I'm curious. What did you expect to happen there? Did you think that incapacitating the last member of my team would make me suddenly decide to trust you?"
"You know how I don't like being told what to do, and to be fair all I did was touch him and he went down." Fisher said, sitting up looking curiously at his wound. "It's funny, I forgot what it was like to be shot." He bled a very discolored red, forming a small puddle under his leg.
"It doesn't seem to be bothering you much."
"10 years of MELD testing would do that to someone. So here's a tip for you: Don't get sent to an experimentation camp. Kill yourself, it's a much better option."
Klein groaned and put a hand to his head. "What happened?" He mumbled, before opening his eyes and seeing Fisher beside him. His eyes went wide and he pointed his hand at Fisher, before realizing he was no longer holding a gun.
"You alright Klein?" Ziv asked.
"I... I think so." Klein replied shakily.
"Then get some more rope and tie him up properly this time."
Klein slowly climbed to his feet and staggered back towards the trucks.
"We still keeping to that? Oh well, at least I tried." Fisher laughed. "Oh, but before we end up not seeing each other for a while: How did the whole 'stealing all the tech and giving it to the Israelis' go? It went pretty well didn't it?"
Ziv didn't answer, but his grip on his rifle visibly tightened.
Fisher closed his mouth and gave a small 'hm' as he continued to stare at Ziv. He ripped a part of his shirt off and bandaged his leg with it so the bleeding would slow down.
Klein, now more steady on his feet, returned with more rope as Fisher finished tying the makeshift bandage. Fisher obligingly crossed his wrists behind his back, but Klein simply wound the rope tightly around Fisher's torso, pinning his arms in place.
When he finished, Ziv said "Check the hut. See if the others are alive."
Klein nodded and headed inside. He came out again almost immediately and vomited on the front porch. After he finished, he looked back at Ziv and shook his head before rejoining the group.
"Can you still drive?" Ziv asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up." Klein responded, rubbing the bruise forming on the back of his head.
Ziv repositioned again, putting Fisher between himself and one of the trucks. "Help him up, and put him in the back. I'll ride with him."
"Grab my bag as well guys,” Fisher said. “I would hate to leave that behind. Oh, and do be VERY careful with it."
Klein finished helping Fisher into the back of the lead truck, then turned to Ziv. "Could have a tracker in it." He said, pointing to Fisher's bag.
"So could he," Ziv replied. "Take it, but check the contents first."
Klein nodded and fetched the bag, opening it to find exactly what fisher had claimed: A laptop, a revolver, and a few ADVENT cranial implants. Satisfied that there was nothing dangerous, he closed the bag again and put it in the truck's passenger footwell, before climbing into the driver's seat as Ziv got in the back with Fisher.
"I think this will be an eventful war, don't you think Ziv?" Fisher said as he sat down in the truck.
Ziv didn't answer, and kept his rifle trained on Fisher as they headed back to the Avenger.
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Post by HSAR on May 2, 2016 9:53:54 GMT -5
15:46:01 Wed May 16 2035 - After Operation Devil's Spear
Julia tossed the stick she'd been using as a mock sword aside and collapsed to the dirt. "Fuck," she groaned. "You're better at this than I thought."
Sadie stopped, feeling her breaths come in hard and fast, and dropped her mock weapon as well.
"You have some excellent reactions. Did anyone teach you?"
"God- oof, uh, no. Not a lot of people know how to use swords, y'know? Did you?"
Sadie thought of dark corridors and a cramped metal cabin dropping through the sky.
"I learned a little, here and there. A knife isn't always good enough."
"That's usually how it goes," Julia got to her feet and cracked her back. "I uploaded the video we took at the blacksite, but ADVENT took it down within the hour. They aren't having any of that, I guess."
"They're concerned. That and the golden enemy we fought on the last mission - do you think the Commander is on to something after all?"
"Yeah, for sure. There's something going on that we don't know about. Have you been keeping up with the news recently?"
"It's not something I focus on. What happened?"
"A girl got shot in Iran during protests and the video went viral. They're trying to keep it all quiet, but half the cities are in open protest."
She didn't respond for a moment, her expression hard and inscrutable. The were thoughts passing by behind those eyes, but very little disturbed the calm surface. Behind the shield of stillness she flicked through memories of burning settlements, of black-armoured ADVENT troopers shooting in schools and bars and clinics. She saw dead bodies crumpled in the manifold positions of death - men, women, and children. More recently, she saw the vile green substance of rendered human beings. In older times cultures had imagined death to be a god, or a collector of souls, or even simply a bridge to be crossed - but Sadie knew the cold truth. Death had come from beyond the stars, and it reaped its grim toll every day.
"Good. Our extractions will be smoother if ADVENT are distracted elsewhere."
"It's something. I wish more people could've seen the shit they're doing in the blacksite. Boiling people down into- what? Goo? Christ on a stick." Julia punted a small rock across the dirt. "Everyone did well though. In the mission, I mean."
The younger woman nodded, though to which statement it wasn't clear. In the distance, long grass shifted with gentle sursurration. Her gaze was focused at that distance.
"Indeed, and yourself included. We were decisive and thorough. We are winning on the ground and, if the men in white coats are to be believed, we are making progress in the other areas too."
"Good. I'm glad Claire is getting better, she's a tough one. Pity the dude who tries to pressure her into prom sex."
Sadie nodded.
"She has improved a lot. However, do you feel that she lacks - confidence?"
"Obviously. She's seventeen, Sadie. Every teenager lacks confidence." A defensive bite in Julia's voice hinted that that may not have ended in adolescence for her.
If Sadie appears not to notice the edge in the other woman's tone.
"The aliens will not ask her age when they shoot her. Uncertainty becomes doubt, leads to hesitation. You see my point."
"And hesitation leads to the dark side, yeah, yeah. I still can't help but worry about her, I mean, look at her, Sadie. She's not even old enough to buy e-cigs, but here she is anyways, putting her neck on the line, wasting our hot water, and probably in love with a woman old enough to be her damn mother."
This, at last, nets a raised eyebrow from Sadie. She backs down.
"Indeed. She'll be a fine soldier one day. But you remember the beginning was always the hardest, perhaps."
"If that ain't the truth. Wanna know the first time I killed an alien?" Julia mused. "It was one of those tall, gangly fuckers, in the lobby of a Toronto hospital. I was sixteen, practically bald, skinny as all hell. I did it with a scalpel."
The corners of Sadie's mouth twitched upwards, which spoke volumes of the woman's tightly restrained emotions.
"I was ninteen, if you mean my first actual alien kill. It was a Kalashnikov, and I fired until the clip was dry. My sergeant congratulated me on some superb recoil control." "What kind?" she asked with a smirk.
"Viper. It had my sergeant at the time, you see. Forty 7.62x39mm rounds and not a scratch on the man."
"Not bad. Some might call that divine intervention."
"You see, I might be tempted to agree with you. My eyes were closed."
Sadie's normally impassive expression was tinged with amusement.
"Enough about my first and last experience with an RPK. Tell me about the scalpel."
"So I had cancer- remember cancer? Leukemia, if you wanna get to the nitty-gritty. So when Toronto got ghosted after Canada fell, I got left behind. I guess the aliens didn't want anything to do with someone slowly dying. I broke out of my room, found a scalpel. Go downstairs, this ugly sonuvabitch is standing there like a dumbass. I run at it, it shoots and misses, I stab it in the throat. Its skin was like paper, so even with my little stick arms I rip him open adam's apple to the gut. Second worst smell I've ever had to experience, somewhere between vomit, piss, and unwashed feet."
Any hint of a smile disappeared from Sadie's face, though very little else changed. She continued to look out across the long grass, contemplative.
"I've been in some unpleasant places in my time. Some smelled bad - decomposing bodies, or human filth. But I tell you, after a while one can get used to those. The smell that you can't get used to, that works its way into the core - the fear. I worked with men and women who broke under the fear, and I can still smell it. Rolling off them like a vile stench."
Her nose crinkled a little.
"It's a horrible thing."
Julia laughed hollowly. "At some point you just stop noticing. Or stop caring. Y'know what I'm talking about? I left a seven year old kid- a fucking seven year old, for Christ's sake- to die in order to save my unit. Nobody ever talks about that kind of shit, but it happens all the damn time. After twenty years, you either die or you become something less than human." She paused and sat cross-legged in the dirt. "Part of me hopes the war doesn't end. There won't be a place for us in the new world, you know that, right? I can disassemble and reassemble a handgun blindfolded in less than a minute, I know all the weak spots in ADVENT armor like the back of my hand... I can't even fucking cook, or clean, or do taxes! We're fighting and dying and bleeding all over for a future that we can't be part of, Sadie."
"Dangerous thoughts, Julia. Of course there is no place for us in the world we dream of. But I suspect the terrible reality is that there will always be a need for violent people to do violent things. I do what I do in the hope that there can be a better tomorrow, someday, although it may be in vain."
She shakes her head, wistfully - regretfully.
"It does not lessen the horror of what I have done."
The regret remains for a moment longer before it, too, is scrubbed away.
"Speaking of which - what do you think about the Commander, Shepherd?"
"Fine, I guess. Haven't seen much of him. He's younger than I expected."
"You know about his extraction operation, though. You know he was captured by ADVENT, held by them for a long time."
"Imagine being sealed in that suit for twenty years. I wonder if he can even walk anymore."
Julia shifted uncomfortably.
"Not to un-change the topic or anything but... Sadie, what do you want to do after... all this?"
There's no sign of disappointment or frustration in Sadie's tone, but for a moment - just a moment - Sadie's eyes flickered over to lock with Julia's. Then they unfocused into the distance behind her.
"I rarely think about afterwards. I don't think there will be an afterwards, one way or another."
"Yeah." Julia took Sadie's hand. "I guess that means we have to make enough of the now."
In the face of something altogether more mysterious than anything she had ever known, Sadie's hesitation was but a hitch in the smooth flow of her hand closing around Julia's. Sadie's stare snapped to Julia's, too, and held, less scrutiny and more - watching, perhaps, a conscious decision to wait and see.
Julia met Sadie's gaze for an instant, then broke it and let their hands slip apart. "I'm- I'm sorry," she muttered, standing to leave.
Sadie watched her go. In times like these she wondered if her implacable calm was more than stillness.
Is this cowardice? Is the deadness here, too?
She leaned back, letting the sky fill her vision, and after some time those thoughts drifted away as well.
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Post by HSAR on May 4, 2016 18:52:59 GMT -5
02:49:31 Tue May 15 2035 - After Operation Devil's Spear
The engineers had done a good job with the kill house, Sadie observed. Smoke poured from windows and doorways, flashbangs strobed and pulsed, but the hastily-constructed structure remained steady even in the wind and rain. She wiped the peak of her baseball cap with one gloved hand, keeping an eye on a slate held in the other. Instead of camera feeds, text scrolled rapidly - a representation of Claire's performance in cold machine analysis. Flashes of gunfire caused vast dumps of information on the screen, but Sadie watched with a well-practiced gaze.
Inside, Claire's primary weapon jammed in a simulated catastrophic failure. Claire smoothly dropped to prone while bringing her pistol up, destroyed her targets and cleared the room. Sadie watched Claire assess the situation, switch back to the primary, roll the weapon up, rack it twice, drop the magazine, reload and - critically - fail to check the status lights before moving off. In the next room the gun failed to fire, but Claire was smoothly back on her sidearm and moving on.
The action continued, but Sadie was satisfied. The months of drilling and training had done the job, settled the right instincts into her muscles and thoughts.
On this level, she is ready. But there is more to a warrior than the operation of their weapon. The moving of the brush does not the artist make.
In front of her, plywood walls held back one last thundering flash before Claire stepped out, into the rain, smoke billowing cinematically from the doorway. Sadie nodded slowly while Claire removed the gas mask from her face.
"Your performance contained no fatal errors. You may stand down."
Claire's face pinched. She wasn't done. It was sitting right there on the thinning stretch of wide lips, and flashing from bright blue eyes squinting against the rain and floodlights. Muscles aching and pummeled into leaden weights, bones bruised or pained breaths struggling to crawl down her throat, none of it mattered. Claire always wanted more. She'd always asked, if not demanded, more. It was a pattern established from the first time Sadie found Claire slamming her fists and knees into a stiff training dummy.
And Sadie always held firm. When she said they were done, they were done. Except once.
After a slow, deep inhale, held several seconds and pressed against her thumping heart, Claire nodded and slogged heavily over to a crate upended to make a serviceable bench. Despite the late hour, the mud and the accumulated hours of training bearing down on the girl like a dozen soggy blankets, she held a deliberate, steady hand as she laid her weapon on a wet towel and began dismantling it. It would have to be cleaned and dried again, later, making the exercise a pointless display of routine. "The rifle malfunctioned," she said, giving no weight to the extra work or the inefficiency of her actions. "I knew it when you triggered a jam, but then it malfunctioned ... again."
Claire let all of the night's pains and mistakes and struggles bear her down, turning to sit in the mud with her back against the dismantled rifle. "Status light." With a tired sigh, she identified and took responsibility for the real malfunction. Claire frowned as she looked up at Sadie. "I'll ... I'll do better next time."
Sadie remained standing, looking down at Claire. "The probability of such a failure occuring in the field is not high, but not all stoppages are easily fixed. That is why the status light exists. You are credited for a smooth switch to your secondary weapon, but it should not have been necessary."
She looked away, out into the rain, folding her arms behind her. From within the stillness at her core, Claire was just another problem to be held, tilted one way and another, to be understood and dismantled and solved. Unbidden, disturbing momentarily her calm, the face of a man long dead came to mind. It was lined with age and pain, the expression grave. There was a stateliness to it, she had observed, a remnant of another time when officers were gentlemen first and warriors second. They had shared a look.
Run. Run and live a normal life. You deserve better than this.
He had been right, of course. Sadie looked at herself and she saw a weapon. A tool, devastatingly effective in its purpose, but ultimately only capable of fulfilling one function. Everything she had seen and done, all that she had lost and given up and carved away from herself - it had made her into a weapon, and weapons had no place in peacetime.
The rain continued to fall. Sadie turned back to Claire, once again locking away her doubts behind an impassive blankness.
"Why are you here, Claire? Why do you fight?"
"Don't really have a choice." The words fell from her mouth like rain from the sky, the product of a mindless process. Air takes form, words fall. And, like the rain falling from the clouds above, her words sank into the thick mud, mired there with the sticks and the worms.
It wasn't true. Especially with the training the had absorbed in the past months. She would have to keep on the move, but Claire imagined she could live in the city again. She knew what and where to avoid. She could hack their network and set up early warnings. Or she could live outside the city. It would take less time to learn how to survive among the trees than it had taken her to learn how to survive a charging Muton.
Perhaps she could even settle into a distant resistance haven. Claire could help train them, teach them how to detect an attack. She could just live among them. Nobody needed to know she could shutdown an ADVENT mech or pick apart an officer with just a ballistic pistol. Or knife.
Claire could be a teenager. Have a boyfriend. Get flowers. Listen to music. Watch movies. Get fucked.
In the background of her thoughts, the rain drummed a pattering beat, each drop careening helplessly to its doom in the murky water. Those drops didn't have a choice. Claire did.
"There isn't any other choice," she corrected, staring at a puddle.
The soft patter of rain was a melodious background to Sadie's thoughts. She nodded, slowly again, as much to indicate her continued attention as in agreement. Her cap dripped with rain, but her stare remained locked on to Claire. She'd heard those words, and variants thereof, too many times from too many soldiers.
"And why is that?"
Her answer was simple, yet weighted with such finality it could sink into the mud a hundred thousand voices deep if not held above the water by the pain-streaked struggle of a few brave soldiers. The puddle was murky, and the mud below it sodden with the blood of all those lost. Every day was another shower; every drop, another human mulched in the pursuit of the aliens' ultimate plans. Something inside of her saw that when she saw a man gunned down in front of his boy. Knew to look beneath the surface of the muddled waters. Something inside of her knew she couldn't not fight.
"If we don't fight... who will?"
It was a good answer, as answers went. The question elicited half-truths, misdirection and dishonesty like nothing else in Sadie's experience. She had heard glib replies about the next meal, grandiose statements about the greater good, even straight lies about a just cause. Sometimes, however, when the answer had an edge, she could sense the hard shapes of the truth. Nervous glances at a significant other, perhaps, or a tightening from pain of loss.
Claire's answer had that ring of truth. It was indistinct, as the truth ever was, but there was no deceit to it. Sadie maintained eye contact for a moment more, then loosened her shoulders with a look Claire had come to associate with satisfaction.
"What drives a soldier is very important. It determines what they can take, and more importantly what they are willing to do. Do you understand?"
"I ... think so." Claire shrugged as she pushed herself to her feet. "If I don't, you know I won't stop thinking about it. I just ... I never thought about it before. Now that I am ... there just isn't another right choice."
"Good. We are moving beyond the small things, Claire, and this part of soldiering is darker than what came before."
Sadie paused for a moment, following Claire's gaze to the puddle that seethed as the rain turned it to mud. Real war was like this, she thought. There was a time when it had been just water, but this war was not like that. In this war the purity of combat was muddied by necessities - the need to stay fighting, to kill more aliens, to complete the mission. That was the way this war worked, and she had come to terms with that.
"Know the people who fight beside you. Know when they will fail you. Know so that you do not go with them."
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Post by Ziv Adler on May 5, 2016 16:42:19 GMT -5
May 26, 2035
Fisher was sitting in the corner of his cell when the door slammed open. Bradford stormed in, a scowl on his face. He shut the door behind him and turned to face Fisher.
"We finally heard back from the resistance." he began, "Amazingly, you weren't lying to us. You're just an idiot who got two of our people killed."
Fisher looked up from where he was sitting to face Bradford. He shuffled slightly in his spot before replying.
"Well, nice to meet you after all these years Bradford; good to see you haven't changed either so I'm guessing no-one has changed from that time." He stood up from his seat and folded his arms behind his back. "I had nothing to do with their deaths, I was only protecting the supplies. I was attacked and that is why they died. It wouldn't have been different if it were me or anyone else guarding those supplies apart from me fighting the attackers off."
"Nothing to do with their deaths!?" Bradford exclaimed. "You let Adler send them in without telling him what they were up against! You left that... thing inside without making sure it was dead! You wasted time arguing instead of warning us about it! And you have the fucking nerve to claim this wasn't your fault?"
Fisher stared Bradford up and down with his vibrant eyes before continuing. "Adler gave me no time at all to explain what was happening, and he sent those two men to their deaths. Adler will try to put the blame entirely on me, as he doesn't trust me in the slightest for some reason." Fisher squinted his eyes slightly. "And let’s not forget that I did in fact defend the supplies, it was down to Adler's poor judgement and his dislike of me that those men died. My only crime was not finishing the job; but an old man with a heart condition can't do everything can he?"
Bradford scoffed. "Poor judgement? What, was he supposed to just take you at your word? I would've killed you on the spot, but then your friend would have caught us off guard. Adler may be a bastard, but he made the best of a bad situation. You only made things worse."
Fisher started to respond, but Bradford cut him off. "I'm not here to argue with you. I'm here to tell you that we're handing you off to the resistance. They'll be here to pick you up in an hour."
"Well," Fisher started, "As a parting gift I'll leave you with those head chips of mine and I'll give you some intel off my laptop." He paused, "But I would very much like my laptop back afterwards and please, for your own sake, don't try to bug it with anything. You'll probably just end up messing up your entire network if you did that."
Fisher turned to sit down but he snapped his head back toward Bradford. "I know we are nowhere near friends, but I have to at least ask: Do you own or stock any of this heart medication?" he said pulling out a small red bottle with ADVENT wording written all over it.
Bradford didn't even look at the bottle. "You're asking for a favor." He shook his head. "I don't know what goes on inside your head Fisher, and I don't think I want to know."
He turned to leave the cell, and Fisher walked back to his seat in the corner.
"Why do you all hate me so for no reason, even after bringing you the Meld doctor through the old war and by causing large amounts of collateral to the Advent landmarks- hell me and a friend even toppled an entire labor camp. But still you trust Ziv Adler, the man whom sold all your technology to his corrupt government and dug through all your files with his computer. Why do you still trust him?"
"I don't trust him." Bradford replied, stopping at the door. "He could bring me the Speaker's goddamn head on a spike and I wouldn't trust him. But that doesn't change what you did. You keep saying Ziv is trying to pin this on you, but his story matches up with both Klein's and yours. He doesn't have to lie to make you look bad. Now stop acting like everyone is out to get you and accept responsibility for your own fuck-up."
With that, Bradford left the cell and locked the door behind him. Fisher brought his hands up to his chin and started to tap his fingers together.
"Password to my laptop is freakshow$389 by the way. Take whatever you want from it- but do not go into folder 590." He looked at Bradford through the window in the cell door as if was looking into his soul. "Please, just do not go into that folder. Everything else you can have."
Bradford didn't answer, but he changed course and headed for Tygan's lab. He had no intention of respecting Fisher’s privacy.
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Post by Laughing Wolf on May 11, 2016 15:31:44 GMT -5
Sat Jun 02 2035 - After Operation Steel Queen
Claire had run the scenarios time and time, to be certain of herself. There was no way Shen hadn't already patched the holes. It was unbelievable that the aliens hadn't already exploited the flaws. Yet, there she stood, her laptop's screen cluttered with evidence of the impossible. Simple batch processes, administrator and security authentication bypasses, infinite irrecoverable logic loops. All run to termination in isolated environments. Claire hadn't seen a collection of security failures so potentially catastrophic since the Skype Bomb Scare of 2032.
And there was Shen, staring at her like she'd told them the Avenger was going to start shooting fluffy, pink marshmallows from the vents. Claire cursed her choice of words. "Simulated -- I- I know what a simulation is. That doesn't mean it can't -- doesn't mean it won't happen!"
Shen looked at Claire with an arch expression. "Look, Claire, we're aware of the problem. It's just not a priority. Our computers are kludged together with the ADVENT systems on the Avenger, the interfaces are wonky enough as it is. Adding firewalls and table filtering and all that other stuff will probably just make everything fail at once."
She gestured around the workshop. "Plus, it's not like we're swimming in qualified computer engineers. I'm managing power distribution in addition to overseeing our engineering staff and construction efforts and upgrading GREMLINs and building powered armor suits and a million other goddamn things. I just don't have time, okay? Look, ADVENT doesn't even bother with hacking old human computer systems anyways, it's just not their thing."
She started shooing Claire towards the door. "I'm busy, alright, we've got these new bluescreen protocols I have to somehow cram into a goddamn BULLET, what the hell does the Commander think I DO down here?!"
Claire let herself be ushered to the door, then turned, eyes plaintive and unrelenting. "Because you're looking in all the wrong places! All these old people know is the human systems. We need -- I- I can do it!" It was a bold claim, marked with hesitation from thought to breath. Claire wasn't sure she could back it up, but she was damn sure Shen had noted her uncertainty.
Shen nodded placatingly. "Okay, Claire. I'll send it up to Bradford and see what he thinks, okay? Now go, go work out or drink or something."
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