XCOM: United Front (IC / DEAD)

[Beiarusia]

Mason Reid
XCOM HQ, Groom Lake, Nevada, United States

The report was concerning to say the least.

Colonel Reid threw the file atop his desk with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted, and feeling the strain of another long day building up behind his eyes. He may no longer be a field agent but by no means was he free to relax, and if anything the workload had increased. Case in point, the file sent to him by Dr. Ashon concerning the autopsy of the alien encountered in Guatemala, codenamed ”Strider”. A predatory creature that had claimed the life of one soldier and likely more if not for the heroics of Corporals Konayama and Ramirez, and even then their success had come as a matter of luck. Reid had seen the helmet feeds. At range the Strider was a perfect hunter, the perfect sniper, but up close it still posed a significant threat even when disarmed, and one-on-one the alien outclassed the human in practically every way. More damning was that its existence had come as a complete shock to XCOM. Whispers within the Council alluded to a leadership and infiltration caste, but the Strider matched nothing that was rumored. A sobering revelation.

What else had XCOM yet to encounter?

The only good news to come from Dr. Ashon’s report was that the Strider wasn’t invulnerable. Better yet the genetic structure contained no human DNA. Knowing that the Sectoids had been altered using their own DNA had been hard enough to understand, but for now the Strider presented itself as something more simple. In war simple was good.

Reid fell deeper into his seat. He cast a glance to the office that had been his ever since coming to Groom Lake. Utilitarian, functional, and with only enough embellishments to make it appear lived in. One wall was dedicated to a LED screen which currently showed a map of the world; the other was dotted with cabinets and shelves. The wall behind him held a few plaques, medals, and awards given to Reid during his tenure in the United States military and CIA. The darkwood desk was cluttered with various files and papers and a tablet computer. No pictures were to be found. The floor was carpeted and the lights dim yet bright enough to see without issue. Standard fare for XCOM as far as office space was concerned.

There was a solid knock on the door. Reid straightened in his seat and barked for whoever was outside to come in. With luck it wouldn't be any sort of bad news.

[Ubaria]

Samir 'Eight Ball' Malik. AKA - 'Bravo 6'
Groom Lake, United States of America

“My first combat experience?” Samir paused mid chew and gazed toward the nearby wall in a moment of recollection. His first taste of combat was a less than pleasant experience, then again no part of combat was a pleasant experience. For most people, war was a less than enjoyable affair, being forced to take lives and watching others simply drain away and soak into the charred dirt, the images and memories one took away from such a place were something they would carry for the rest of their life. Samir glanced back to Vasily with a slightly dour expression.
“My first taste of battle…well…I was practically still a boy. A boy that was no stranger to conflict though…”

---

Private Samir Malik.
Outskirts of Nahr el-Bared, Lebanon
June 11th, 2007

“Command…do you read?...Our APC hit an IED and has been disabled. We have several walking wounded but are still combat effective, has second platoon reached their objective…over?”
A burnt out M113 APC sat smouldering at the roadside with a heavy coat of building debris almost completely burying the ruined vehicle. Dust from the blast still lingered heavily and stifled the air with fine particles of vaporized concrete and plaster, the fine white powder coated the street, the soldiers and their weapons. The explosion itself had knocked everybody about in the vehicle something fierce, there had been no fatalities but many of the wounded were exhibiting symptoms of overpressure and small scale bleeding. Samir was uninjured though could not escape the ringing still seemingly reverberating inside his skull, one hand had been clasped over his right ear whilst the other clutched at his weapon.

The platoon sergeant, Najeem, who had been in the vehicle at the time had also escaped unscathed and was currently shouting into a radio piece trying to ascertain the location of other friendly units, their situation and proximity to the objective which was the a refugee camp under the control of Fatah al-Islam, extremists who had occupied the camp a few weeks prior, they had met the Lebanese Army with ferocious resistance, rigging the roads and buildings with improvised explosives, one of which their APC had unfortunately ran into, disabling the right track and igniting the various ammunition bins strapped to the exterior.

"Private Malik. You can take your hand off your head now" The Sergeant forcefully peeled away his hand and guided it to the grip of his rifle. "Check weapons and ammo. We move out in two. Second Platoon is pinned down trying to take the high ground"

“Yes Sir” Came the simple response.

Samir quick adjusted his hand positioning on the M16 and gave it a visual once over to ensure no damage had been sustained during the blast, other than a little dust coverage the weapon was in working order. After the rest of the platoon had done the same, they began slowly filing back into position.

"Ok. Alpha and Bravo squad will proceed two clicks east and support the main attack along with second platoon. Charlie squadron will move due north and hook around to hit the enemy in their side, the terrain should favour our approach that way and we may be able to knock out the mortars."
With their orders given and overall cohesion regained, the various squads began moving out towards their various assigned objectives. Samir who was with Charlie squad, began to proceed northwards into the claustrophobic network of ruined buildings.

"Remember, IED's and booby traps everywhere. Check your footing and if something looks off, don't go near it. Last thing we need is for a 200 pound bomb to go off under our feet"
The Fatah fighters had known the Lebanese would come out in force and had rigged half the camp and surrounding buildings to explode, explosives ranger from hand grenades to mortar shells lay hidden under the remains of buildings, in trash piles or behind blind corners, a simple misstep could spell a rather instant and grizzly end for not just one man, but for the entire squad. Charlie, under the command of Najeem proceeded into the maze of dilapidated buildings, hollowed and gutted by the tide of battle, the echoes of nearby gunfire and explosions rattled through them, every so often the shockwaves of the larger explosions would dislodge dust and debris from the overhanging rooftops and ledges, the white pulverized brick looked and acted like snow, yet nobody was sticking out their tongue.

Eventually, after a few minutes of carefully making their way through the network of ruins, found themselves upon an open plaza; the remains of an urban garden tucked away between the larger buildings, it had been decimated by a large explosion and a crater around twenty to thirty foot wide lay at its centre. A large explosion had kicked out a large volume of dirt and stone, but also damaged the building facades in the surrounding area, exposing the innards of various houses and shops, in one case the second floor of a house had collapsed and formed a perfect ramp up into the building, also a truck carrying deliveries had been thrown by the blast into the shopfront, it was the only thing holding the entire structure up.

"What happened here?" There were various remarks of uncertainty among the squad. Samir observed the carnage from a distance before turning his gaze to the floor where an object stood out among the broken bricks, it seemed like a simple metal fragment but upon further inspection, it was the nosecone of a 250 pound bomb, as he knelt down to pick it up, he felt a hot brush of air wash over the hairs on the back of his neck, a fine whistle following in its wake, then came the crack of a rifle in the near distance.

"Sniper! It's an ambush, find cover!"

Of course, the area was a prime spot for a trap, the exposed elevated positions provided a wide angle view of the entire courtyard, with enough cover to conceal the attackers as they started laying down fire into the streets below. Soldiers scrambled left and right in a panicked frenzy, seeking any cover they could find, some dived through nearby windows or rolled behind cars, others simply dropped to the deck where they stood. A bullet barely caught Samir on the leg as he ran for cover behind a nearby stone column; the round impacted the floor near his ankle and produced a kick of dust as it landed, one of many bullets filling the space around him. Of course the sniper wasn’t the only shooter in the area, from in the buildings above almost a dozen – perhaps more – fighters emerged from their hides and unleashed indiscriminate fire in the soldiers still seeking cover in the road. A light machine gun stationed from an elevated window opened up and began spitting out lead in a cone of certain death, two soldiers unfortunate enough to be crossing the street at the time were mown down by the weapon. The first one instantly flopped like a ragdoll when a round entered his neck and smashed his spinal column into fragments, the second one was clipped in the thigh and managed to stagger several feet more, his hand clutched at the wound before the next bullet dropped him to the tarmac, blood bursting from his breached chest cavity.

“Fuck! We can’t move with that machine gun pinning us down. Everybody pop smoke and keep surprising fire at the buildings on our three and eleven. Samir on me! We’re going to see if we can flank that machine gun position through the buildings!”

Samir was reluctant and mentally weighed up the punishment of insubordination against the punishment of a bullet, both were not particularly appealing but he couldn’t just sit there. Clutching onto his rifle, he readied himself to run and as soon as the smoke started spilling out into the road, he ran. It began as a light jog but became a sprint by the time he arrived at the other side, through a doorway where Najeem was waiting beside a stairwell.

“I think we can get to him through these buildings”

The pair ascended the staircase into what was an apartment block. The dark and cramped corridors led them through the building and towards the sounds of multiple rifles, eventually they emerged on an elevated walkway which ran parallel to the plaza, it was out of the peripheral view of the machine gunner but not of the other supporting fighters who quickly spotted the pair sneaking their way across, they soon started dumping rounds into the short brick cover.

Samir pressed himself close to the brick as he could and flinched at every round that chipped off the stone wall above, showering him with fragments that impaired his vision. Najeem however, was leaning on the wall and returning sporadic bursts of fire, he spotted Samir hunched in a ball and pushed him with his free hand..
“Fire for fucks sake!”

Samir knelt on one knee and peered up as much as he dared rifle first. He fired off the first few rounds without even using the sights; the bullets missed entirely and went off into the distance. The next few rounds he fired were using the iron sights, though he still could not get a sight of his target through the dust and smoke drifting across the way, he couldn’t tell if he was hitting at all but the fire eventually stopped as either the fighters were dead, or relocating.

“Move up. Into this building”

Najeem entered first, followed by Samir who practically leapt through the doorway leading to what looked like a storage area for a shop, another door at the other end of the room led to a shopfront, a stairwell beside the door would lead them up through some living quarters and onto an open rooftop where they could clearly see the flank of the machine gunner still firing wildly into the smoke, though still concealed partially by broken walls.

“Stay here and cover me. I think I can jump onto that roof”

Najeem backed up several paces and then broke into a full sprint, vaulting the low wall and using it as a step up to propel him over the short gap between the shop roof and the adjacent building, the landing was less than graceful but did the job. Samir followed on with his own jump, his lighter frame allowed him to travel further and landed on the roof with a roll.

“Nice jump.”

“Thanks…”

There was no time to admire his athleticism as nearby fighters started firing on the roof from a nearby balcony, probably the same pair from before. With no cover on the open roof, both of them were forced to drop onto their bellies and return fire, Samir was no marksman and missed his shots, emptying the magazine in a mere couple of seconds.

“Burst fire! Don’t hold down the trigger, you won’t hit shit!”

Samir slotted in another magazine and depressed the bolt release to chamber a round and began firing once more, this time in timed bursts. The bullets impacted their mark, the first fighter was hit square in centre mass and recoiled into a crumpled bleeding mess, the second was eliminated by Najeem in a similar manner.

“Move onto that balcony. We can get into the building from there”

The balcony led into a rather upscale bedroom, the bed had been overturned and used as cover at some point prior and a wardrobe had been overturned to plug a hole in the crumbling wall, the doorway, missing a door, put them into a long corridor with other similar doors leading to various rooms, one of which housed their machine gunner, but not before another pair of fighters came sprinting down the hall and upon spotting the two Lebanese soldiers concealed themselves in said doorway.

“Samir. Frag it”

Samir fumbled with the pin for a moment but managed to pull it loose and with the handle still depressed, leant out and rolled the object underarm down the hall. The metallic sphere bounced several times on the concrete with a distinct clang, then a thumping great boom which rocked the building. Dust and plaster rained down on them and filled the air, upon another peek it was clear that it had done its job, a river of blood tricked out from one doorway and the other one was occupied by a slumped corpse.

“Good frag. Move up”

Najeem exited the room and swept left down the corridor then turned right with Samir hot on his heels. The rattle of the machine gun could be heard growing louder with each inch, there was no need to be stealthy about it. Najeem stopped at the doorway and silently indicated for Samir to follow him in, then without another seconds hesitation they burst in. Najeem went to raise his rifle but a hand stopped it and another, clutching a knife, slashed at the Sergeant, the knife clipping his shoulder blade. Using his rifle as a restraint, Najeem pushed the attacker to the far side of the room, pinning him against the wall then with his right hand free, retrieved his pistol and unloaded several rounds at point blank into his stomach. Samir in the meanwhile advanced into the room and fired his rifle directly into the spine of the machine gunner who fell with a horrific gurgling cry.

“Good job. MG nest neutralized. Let’s get back to the squad”

---

Current day

"It sounds stupid to say i didn't feel anything as i watched them bleed, but i didn't." Samir finished up the bowl of his rice and mopped up the residue with his slice of pita bread. "We fought through that godforsaken town towards the camp for several more months. We bombed them with gunships, mortars and damn tanks, what did we achieve?" He asked rhetorically.

[Beiarusia]

...

Dr. Justus Ashon
XCOM HQ, Groom Lake, Nevada, United States

The autopsy had gone exceedingly well. The specimen was intact, more or less, and the surgeons had been able to document much about the Strider from just a cursory examination. Reptilian. Carnivore. Designed to hunt. Four eyes would give the Strider superb depth perception, and given the reports its reaction time was beyond human capabilities. The neural system attested to that fact. Best classification would be “ambush predator”, similar in concept to the snapping turtle if one required a layman’s explanation, though whereas the turtle was slow and unwieldy the Strider was capable of active engagements when the need arose. The only saving grace was the alien’s seemingly lack of numbers. A pack of Sectoids was dangerous enough, but even a pair of Striders would be exceedingly lethal. XCOM could only hope that the alien’s rarity remained.

Dr. Ashon had personally seen to the dissection, and as such his medical apron was splattered in all assortments of gore, blood more red than green. The reports had been sent to Colonel Reid and the good doctor was busy discussing the upcoming battery of genetic tests with his compatriots when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind.

“I am Nemy Smith, the new scientist from Australia and pleased to meet you,” the voice said.

Dr. Ashon turned to look at the newcomer with a slight hint of irritation in his eyes. The good doctor vaguely recalled having been informed of a new hire but had been too preoccupied with his work to care. Not that he cared much even now with the man standing before him. The first thing people learned about Dr. Ashon was that he was a cold individual who favored results over pleasantries. Until the new hire proved his worth then he might as well be a janitor cleaning the still damp blood from underneath Dr. Ashon’s boots.

“If you need a tour then you’d be better off seeking help from Dr. Chakwas. Otherwise find your department and get to work,” the good doctor said, being as curt as possible with little regard for how rude he may sound. He was busy and had little time to hold the new hire’s hand.

[Theyra]

...

Dr. Justus Ashon
XCOM HQ, Groom Lake, Nevada, United States

The autopsy had gone exceedingly well. The specimen was intact, more or less, and the surgeons had been able to document much about the Strider from just a cursory examination. Reptilian. Carnivore. Designed to hunt. Four eyes would give the Strider superb depth perception, and given the reports its reaction time was beyond human capabilities. The neural system attested to that fact. Best classification would be “ambush predator”, similar in concept to the snapping turtle if one required a layman’s explanation, though whereas the turtle was slow and unwieldy the Strider was capable of active engagements when the need arose. The only saving grace was the alien’s seemingly lack of numbers. A pack of Sectoids was dangerous enough, but even a pair of Striders would be exceedingly lethal. XCOM could only hope that the alien’s rarity remained.

Dr. Ashon had personally seen to the dissection, and as such his medical apron was splattered in all assortments of gore, blood more red than green. The reports had been sent to Colonel Reid and the good doctor was busy discussing the upcoming battery of genetic tests with his compatriots when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind.

“I am Nemy Smith, the new scientist from Australia and pleased to meet you,” the voice said.

Dr. Ashon turned to look at the newcomer with a slight hint of irritation in his eyes. The good doctor vaguely recalled having been informed of a new hire but had been too preoccupied with his work to care. Not that he cared much even now with the man standing before him. The first thing people learned about Dr. Ashon was that he was a cold individual who favored results over pleasantries. Until the new hire proved his worth then he might as well be a janitor cleaning the still damp blood from underneath Dr. Ashon’s boots.

“If you need a tour then you’d be better off seeking help from Dr. Chakwas. Otherwise find your department and get to work,” the good doctor said, being as curt as possible with little regard for how rude he may sound. He was busy and had little time to hold the new hire’s hand.

Nemy noticed the annoyance in Aston's eyes and his tone. So this is my new boss, he thought to himself was the doctor made his cold introduction. Nemy have some experience dealing with men like Aston before when he worked at the CSIRO. He preferred not deal with them but, in both cases he has little choice in the matter. "Yes Dr. Ashon, I will". He said to Aston and he turned around and made his way to his room. It was a short walk and he quickly round his room and unpacked his things. He took a deep breath as he finished unpacking his things, maybe he will be as bad as doctor Kirk". He said under his breath. After that he got on his lab coat and went to his work station in the lab. he would be reviewing the information about the Strider. He would find it fascinating and started to look for any thing that could have been missed.

[Altito Asmoro]

Prof. James Johnathan Watson
XCOM HQ, Groom Lake, Hangar

He could be referred as "Dr.", but he's no doctor. Aerospace has nothing to do with that medical term, though he supposed it's more fitting than "Prof." Then again, it could be worse. For all they know it may or may not know about his true...title. Anyway, as he looked again into the inventory of XCOM's aircraft, there are rooms for improvement.

Especially on the Ravens. It is possibly the best aircraft the mankind can afford right now. Heavily augmented and modified, it is also armed with the best in the entire stats, armor, tracking, engines, and avionics. But needless to say, it's perhaps only capable of downing the same UFO on the Guatemala mission. Despite the best in all-stats, it is still part of Earth's best technology and two recent missions are not the best examples of the comparison.

"I guess we have to look on what could be done on the weapons, for now," said James to the other researcher, who nodded slowly. Weapons are the other improvement available, but Avalanche Missile are the best for now.

[Anowa]

Sergeant Wolfram Herrman, Bravo-1

Wolfram settled to leave Miyuki alone for the time being, though eventually the thought of that talk Miyuki wanted would come up and they'd have it... Whatever it was she wanted. Though his first thought was to get a reason out of someone, though as to how.... Elsa once again proved to be a blessing.

Drinks would be a fine excuse, working out was an afterthought anyway, not much to do here in the first place. Seta seemed distant, though he didn't seem too affected by it, whatever it was. New girl, Krueger, was Bravo's new heavy, best way to get acquainted was over a mickey of rum anyway. The rest had already gotten their introductions long ago. Wolfram looked down at his old friend, and crossed his arms, "Well Harewood, it was your idea, you can lead the way."

[Altito Asmoro]

Sergeant Wolfram Herrman, Bravo-1

Wolfram settled to leave Miyuki alone for the time being, though eventually the thought of that talk Miyuki wanted would come up and they'd have it... Whatever it was she wanted. Though his first thought was to get a reason out of someone, though as to how.... Elsa once again proved to be a blessing.

Drinks would be a fine excuse, working out was an afterthought anyway, not much to do here in the first place. Seta seemed distant, though he didn't seem too affected by it, whatever it was. New girl, Krueger, was Bravo's new heavy, best way to get acquainted was over a mickey of rum anyway. The rest had already gotten their introductions long ago. Wolfram looked down at his old friend, and crossed his arms, "Well Harewood, it was your idea, you can lead the way."

Cpl. Elsa Harewood


The sudden appearance of Wolfram who...well, motioned her to moved the plan along was a surprise, Elsa took a little blush over her face before a quick composed pose was regained. "O-Okay, Sgt, I mean...Wolfram, yes, that," said Elsa, thoroughly stuttered through the conversation. She took along Kruger's arm, "Come on, let's go to the bar. We're not going to be much useful in the gym all the time, right?" cheerfully pointed out by Elsa to Rachel.

"Come on, comrades, to the bar!" as she pulled along the arms of Kruger, and motioned for her comrades to go to the bar. It will be quite certain a walk.

---

XCOM HQ
Bar
To say that the bar is empty is not quite true, since there are few people in it anyway. Good range selection of drinks, fair to say. Also good staffs.

"What do you want to drink, Wolfram?" as she approached him with a bottle of gin on her left hand.

[Independent States of Tula]

CPL Ethan "Beagle" King, Alpha 3, XCOM Base, Nevada...

There was an answer from behind the door calling for Beagle to enter, which he did so before shutting it behind him when the guards didn't follow him. The Aussie sniper took a few moments to take in the office and its utilitarian nature. Beagle took note that there were no pictures in the room though he did take note of the plaques and medals behind the man who Beagle assumed was Colonel Reid. He noted they were American awards, no big surprise there, but that some had the letters C, I, and A on them...and that got Beagle's interest for a moment. However he let that interest die as the sniper snapped a quick salute before the Colonel might think he was wasting his time and introduced himself.

"Corporal Ethan King reporting Sir."

[Serah]

Alrick sighed.
Obviously no one would start a conversation if he was silent.
Of course nobody would see him if he didn't do at least something to be noticed.
Mentally punching himself he continued jogging on before leaving after a few minutes. Not out of exhaustion, but out of boredom.
For a man his age, he was in a pretty good condition, and considering what the two conflicts he'd been through it was only luck that he was still alive.
Even if he was a sniper.

He was pretty good at his job too, when he acquired a target, not even walls could make him get off of it.
To his team, as long as he trusted them, he was one that would take shots nigh impossible to land just to try and just nudge the enemy off one second to get a kill shot.
It wasn't something that happened extremely often, actually it only happened one in his life, but he was damn proud of it.

"Bon. Je fais quoi maintenant que tout le monde est parti se beurrer...?
Le champ de tir? Les dortoirs...?" The frenchman spoke, with an accent very reminiscent of the Lyon side of France while still not being quite there.

He thought about his options a bit, hearing nobody else in the room.

"Le champ de tir me semble être une bonne idée. Au moins j'ai quelque chose d'utile à faire." He continued, finding his way through the XCOM facility.

He hardly knew the premises himself, and more often than not needed a bit of help navigating.
Of course, he was starting to know his way around, but not so much that he could actually do it without looking at maps or asking around.

After a bit of trial and error, he got to it.

He silently walked around the place, checking out the weapons that he didn't use, the weapons that he did, and even the ones he didn't necessarily cared about.
His gaze wandered around the few other people that were in the shooting range.

He had heard of the other snipers.
A japanese one, an australian one supposed to arrive today, the dead one, and himself.
Assuming he remembered well, they were the only snipers, though he decided to talk to the one that was in front of him, luckily enough.

"Hello. I suppose you are one of the few snipers? Glad to meet a fellow." He held out his hand to her, his face portrayed no emotions, hardly even annoyance. Although his accent camouflaged his origin somewhat. It was slightly odd, with a combination of british and american pronunciation.

"I suppose you are the Japanese sniper? Haven't yet gotten your name remembered. Alrick Lareylis. Or Ghost, as my old team called me."

[Theyra]

Cpl. Elsa Harewood


The sudden appearance of Wolfram who...well, motioned her to moved the plan along was a surprise, Elsa took a little blush over her face before a quick composed pose was regained. "O-Okay, Sgt, I mean...Wolfram, yes, that," said Elsa, thoroughly stuttered through the conversation. She took along Kruger's arm, "Come on, let's go to the bar. We're not going to be much useful in the gym all the time, right?" cheerfully pointed out by Elsa to Rachel.

"Come on, comrades, to the bar!" as she pulled along the arms of Kruger, and motioned for her comrades to go to the bar. It will be quite certain a walk.

---

XCOM HQ
Bar
To say that the bar is empty is not quite true, since there are few people in it anyway. Good range selection of drinks, fair to say. Also good staffs.

"What do you want to drink, Wolfram?" as she approached him with a bottle of gin on her left hand.

Gloom Lake
Gym
Squaddie Anselmo Zavala

Anselmo was hoping to get introduced to the new recruit but, instead Elsa took her to the bar. She called for everyone to go with her to the bar. He thought that this would be the best time to actually meet his fellow soldiers. So he followed them to the bar and decided to be the barkeep. He went behind the counter and started to see what they had. "So who wants what and I am Anselmo Zavala by the by".

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Roscoe sniffled, and nodded to Elsa. “Yeah, sounds good.” And then under his breath, added on “Could use a drink.”

He followed them to the bar, whistling and stuffing his hands in his pocket. His cheery demeanor only hid what was really swirling around in his brain. The pop he had heard back in South America was a rifle. He had heard Kaidan die. He still remembered the look on Kaidan’s dead, pissed pants, bowel released self. Mouth agape, eyes glimmering with terror. The blood that had spread to the ground below him, soaking into the grass and staining Kaidan’s chin, like a messy baby. A messy fucking baby. Need a bib, messy baby?

Roscoe was not a fan of babies, if he were to admit. Just seeing their spaghetti-stained faces, thinking about how they’d just puke and shit everywhere. Not too unlike Kaidan.

I’m going crazy… He shook his head, pushing thoughts out of his head and into the controlled air surrounding him. They reached the bar eventually, a Cher song blasting over the speakers. Roscoe sat down on a bar stool next to Anselmo, and Elsa and the aforementioned asked everyone what exactly they’d like to drink. “Oh, uh…” Roscoe grimaced, before raising his eyes to the bartender. He raised a hand out, calling “Do you have Rum and Coke?” to which the bartender nodded. Roscoe weakly smiled, saying “Thanks” and turning at the sound of a squeaking bar stool to his right. He turned, seeing Seta plopping down. “Sir.” He jerked his chin up, a sign of camaraderie and respect to the higher-ranking, if younger, officer.

When his rum and coke had finally been slid over to him, a cute umbrella poking out the top. Roscoe made it known. “Huh. Cute.” He smiled, taking the toothpick umbrella out and placing it on its side. “So… what’ve you guys been up to?” He grinned dumbly at Wolfram, Elsa, Rachel, and Anselmo. Seta did not appear in the mood for small talk.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Sergeant Vasily Seregyevich Ivanov - XCOM - Unit Charlie
Current Local Time (CST), 25/3/2014
XCOM Base, Groom Lake, Nevada, United States of America

"You completed the mission that is what you achieved." Vasily replied and then began picking at the salad. When Samir finished his tale Vasily had finished his grilled chicken. While Vasily would now want to talk about his first mission, he felt that he had to address this concern of Samir first.

"Dying is not bad. After all everyone is born with two lives. Your first death is when you die. Your second death is when your name is uttered for the last time. Dying is not so bad when you are a soldier. You fight and die for your country. There is no greater death than dying for a noble cause." Vasily spoke and then reached into his left breast pocket and took out his flask. He took a sip and placed the flask near his plate. "Dying without a purpose or no cause is the worst death."

Even though Vasily sounded patriotic, the last mission made him doubt his resolve as a soldier. Even if he died as a soldier, his country may forget him. How many soldiers names have been lost over the years? Is it worth fighting for a country which has forgotten about you? If anything before he died, he wanted to make his peace with her. It was the least he could do since he was the disappointing father.

[Altito Asmoro]

Roscoe sniffled, and nodded to Elsa. “Yeah, sounds good.” And then under his breath, added on “Could use a drink.”

He followed them to the bar, whistling and stuffing his hands in his pocket. His cheery demeanor only hid what was really swirling around in his brain. The pop he had heard back in South America was a rifle. He had heard Kaidan die. He still remembered the look on Kaidan’s dead, pissed pants, bowel released self. Mouth agape, eyes glimmering with terror. The blood that had spread to the ground below him, soaking into the grass and staining Kaidan’s chin, like a messy baby. A messy fucking baby. Need a bib, messy baby?

Roscoe was not a fan of babies, if he were to admit. Just seeing their spaghetti-stained faces, thinking about how they’d just puke and shit everywhere. Not too unlike Kaidan.

I’m going crazy… He shook his head, pushing thoughts out of his head and into the controlled air surrounding him. They reached the bar eventually, a Cher song blasting over the speakers. Roscoe sat down on a bar stool next to Anselmo, and Elsa and the aforementioned asked everyone what exactly they’d like to drink. “Oh, uh…” Roscoe grimaced, before raising his eyes to the bartender. He raised a hand out, calling “Do you have Rum and Coke?” to which the bartender nodded. Roscoe weakly smiled, saying “Thanks” and turning at the sound of a squeaking bar stool to his right. He turned, seeing Seta plopping down. “Sir.” He jerked his chin up, a sign of camaraderie and respect to the higher-ranking, if younger, officer.

When his rum and coke had finally been slid over to him, a cute umbrella poking out the top. Roscoe made it known. “Huh. Cute.” He smiled, taking the toothpick umbrella out and placing it on its side. “So… what’ve you guys been up to?” He grinned dumbly at Wolfram, Elsa, Rachel, and Anselmo. Seta did not appear in the mood for small talk.

Cpl. Elsa Harewood

Elsa took a swig on her bottle, and yes, she perhaps turned into a little bit more alcoholic. The beer's strong but it is normal for normal beer. As far as she looked on, Rachel took it slowly. She probably should introduced herself to her first, "Hi there, new girl. I'm Elsa, and you must be Rachel, right?" said Elsa to her. Rachel nodded but after that both of them turned quiet and into their drinks. So much for first introduction, said Elsa to herself.

Roscoe asked about what they've been doing so far, "Well....if you have to know Roscoe, I've been doing few changes on my weapons for the next operation. Sidearm to machine. Other than that, normal. Well, I don't know, probably took more swig to some guy, right Wolfram HA HA!" cheerfully said by Elsa as she punched lightly on Wolfram's shoulder.

[Relikai]

Miyuki completed her firing, expending nearly a hundred rounds of .338 Lapua Magnum and 5.7mm rounds. Switching to the sniper rifle and then to her handgun, Miyuki took out nearly ninety five percent of her targets, being killed four times in the process due to a slip or a missed shot. It was good results considered that Miyuki would be unlikely to face enemies being funnelled towards her, yet her ability to engage a stream of aliens remained on point.

Miyuki finished returning her weapons, going to the corner to remove her brace as she felt her body right itself. Tossing the object onto the table, Miyuki sat around for a while, packing her stuff when a tall man approached her, seemingly a new member of XCOM.

Miyuki nodded, standing and taking the hand in a shake. It just occurred to Miyuki that after two missions, she was the only sniper left in the three squads they performed with. A sobering thought that she might be the next to go anytime, and that snipers were possibly priority targets by aliens, Miyuki forced a smile as she returned the greeting. Unfortunately she could not bow for now.

"Corporal Konayama Miyuki, Callsign Milky, sniper of Bravo Squad. Nice to meet you." Miyuki replied. "Welcome to XCOM, I suppose. The life of a sniper is quick and fast, but one beats it by being faster..."

[Serah]

Miyuki completed her firing, expending nearly a hundred rounds of .338 Lapua Magnum and 5.7mm rounds. Switching to the sniper rifle and then to her handgun, Miyuki took out nearly ninety five percent of her targets, being killed four times in the process due to a slip or a missed shot. It was good results considered that Miyuki would be unlikely to face enemies being funnelled towards her, yet her ability to engage a stream of aliens remained on point.

Miyuki finished returning her weapons, going to the corner to remove her brace as she felt her body right itself. Tossing the object onto the table, Miyuki sat around for a while, packing her stuff when a tall man approached her, seemingly a new member of XCOM.

Miyuki nodded, standing and taking the hand in a shake. It just occurred to Miyuki that after two missions, she was the only sniper left in the three squads they performed with. A sobering thought that she might be the next to go anytime, and that snipers were possibly priority targets by aliens, Miyuki forced a smile as she returned the greeting. Unfortunately she could not bow for now.

"Corporal Konayama Miyuki, Callsign Milky, sniper of Bravo Squad. Nice to meet you." Miyuki replied. "Welcome to XCOM, I suppose. The life of a sniper is quick and fast, but one beats it by being faster..."

The frenchman nodded.

"I've already lived out seven years as a sniper by hiding well and having quick reflexes. My life is far from short.
Though when you think that in a few hours, days, or weeks, I'll be on the field watching over a team killing until now fictional thin green men, it does put it in perspective.
I like to think that I'll be fine for now." He looked to the side to see the still displayed score.

He didn't feel too intimidated by it, as it didn't portray the actual fighting situation on the field.
Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to any veterans yet.

"Ever been on the field since you arrived?" He spoke, still looking at the figures of the aliens dropped down.
They all looked... Odd. To say the least.

"Say, are you finished? I'd like to see if my aim is still good against those targets."

[Relikai]

"Twice, not that I can be proud of it." Miyuki replied, taking a sip of water as she undid the knot on her hair, letting her brownish curls flow down her shoulder. It was her routine hairstyle, the sniper preferring to let them flow rather than bind them into a ponytail or a bun although she did that during missions. "Twice I've been out there, and it's ugly enough to make me wish I was still in Japan, or that these buggers didn't exist."

Hearing the man's request, Miyuki gestured to a stock AX338 nearby. "Our stock sniper rifle. Reliable and the XCOM issue. Go take a few shots, the standard Ranger sniper takes two and a half seconds to acquire a moving target within fifty meters, aim, track and fire. The alien sniper takes about two seconds. While we often aim quicker with standard rifles and no magnification, snipers are snipers, and we live with the handicap of a magnified scope stopping us from aligning the rifle to us, instead we adjust our sight to it. Aliens... they do not seem to possess such a handicap."

[Serah]

"Twice, not that I can be proud of it." Miyuki replied, taking a sip of water as she undid the knot on her hair, letting her brownish curls flow down her shoulder. It was her routine hairstyle, the sniper preferring to let them flow rather than bind them into a ponytail or a bun although she did that during missions. "Twice I've been out there, and it's ugly enough to make me wish I was still in Japan, or that these buggers didn't exist."

Hearing the man's request, Miyuki gestured to a stock AX338 nearby. "Our stock sniper rifle. Reliable and the XCOM issue. Go take a few shots, the standard Ranger sniper takes two and a half seconds to acquire a moving target within fifty meters, aim, track and fire. The alien sniper takes about two seconds. While we often aim quicker with standard rifles and no magnification, snipers are snipers, and we live with the handicap of a magnified scope stopping us from aligning the rifle to us, instead we adjust our sight to it. Aliens... they do not seem to possess such a handicap."

Alrick raised an eyebrow.
Scopes didn't mean too much to him, in fact more often than not, he would either dismount the thing, or try to shoot blind, assuming the target was at a reasonable enough range and assuming it wasn't immediately threatening.
Though if scopes were the norm, who was he to differ from it? After all, in the army you either stand with the others, or get thrown into the ditch.

"AX338? Here I thought I'd be able to get my Hecate II.
But what you're describing... It's concerning.
Are Alien snipers common? If that's the case, I need details on what they look like. So that I can acquire them first." As he grabbed the rifle, he was instantly filled with what could only be described as disgust.

"I don't like this rifle. I hope we'll get something else soon." With that, he caught a PP2000 and started the shootout, already aiming, although his stance seemed to be... Loose.

He shot, using the bolt action with frightening speed, and dried out two targets, then followed several others.
Every once in a while, he would prove to be as efficient as he was when he started, and each time he would get behind cover, switch arms, deliver a barrage of shots to the closest enemy with the machine gun, and continue on until he got the flashing red light.

95% hit rate on sectoids, 65% on the strider, and 100% on all seekers.

"I fucking hate squids." He sighed, putting back the sniper rifle and machine pistol where it was. "Additionally, that damn thing over there. The thing with a bolt rifle. What's that even?" He was clearly fuming, not being able to touch it at at least 80% was a big hit to his honor.

[Ubaria]

2nd Lt. Juliana ‘Coyote’ Coburn
March 30th, 2014
Kharovsk Air Base, Eastern Siberia, Russian Federation

Siberia, a vast and unrelenting barrage of untamed nature and wilderness stretching across the face of the Asian continent, the sheer emptiness of the place was stupefying and a little uneasy on those more used to urban comforts. The area, consisting of just over 13 kilometers squared; was still home to some 40 million people spread out through cities, rural farming communities, mines and logging camps. On the surface, there was nothing much to be seen but harsh wintry taigas, permafrost encrusted tundra and unending pine green forests, though what lay beneath the sleepy ground was where the interest lay.

Russia had already begun industrializing the region, mines extracted tonnes and tonnes of rich minerals from the earth, oil pipelines stretched across the landscape pulling reserves of natural gas and oil from deep seated wells underneath the snows and the loggers took advantage of the large forests to fuel the timber industry, that was only the half of it, more lay waiting for those who could find it. Siberia was a strategically important location for the Russian nation and despite its remoteness, the area was dotted with various missile silos, radar sites and airbases, some neglected and dilapidated over the years, mere relics from the cold war era. It was on one of these far removed bases that the multinational coalition, XCOM, had found themselves setting up shop in.

Juliana stared ambivalently through the ice encrusted cafeteria window; condensation misted the inside glass from where steam from her piping hot mug of coffee had brushed against it. She blew off a wisp of the warm vapor and shrugged down a mouthful of the frothing, deep brown liquid which was a little bitter for her tastes, yet the flavor wasn’t the reason for why she was drinking it, more importantly it was to stave off the gripping Siberian cold, the climate was an unwelcome contrast from the warmer air of her home in Alabama or indeed, her posting in the Middle East which she was more accustomed to.

Juliana couldn’t help but let her mind wander, her brain still couldn’t wrap itself around the current situation for only a couple of months ago, she was stationed in Kuwait training the local forces, without warning her superiors had whisked her from active duty and back to the states where she was introduced to something called XCOM, a multi-national coalition of soldiers, engineers, scientists and other specialists, all banded together for a shared cause, a common enemy. It was no secret that humanity knew of the existence of alien life, no matter how much the media or governments of the world attempted to cover up that fact, the incident in Munich sparked a worldwide reaction that humanity was no longer alone, or safe. It was equally as scary but also, an honor to fight among such prestigious ranks, Juliana just hoped she would prove worthy.

She pursed her lips and went to take another sip of her Russian Coffee when a noise from the roof gave her a nasty jolt. Juliana cursed and narrowly avoided throwing the boiling hot liquid down her front and barely managed to shuffle out of the seat as it began leaking off the edge of the tabletop. The sound, the alarm infact, was emitted from the bases integrated speaker system which was also linked to the intercom, the tone hushed for a brief moment whilst somebody on the other side activated the microphone.

“2nd Lieutenant Coburn and Captain Lawson are to immediately proceed to the pilots briefing room. That is 2nd Lieutenant Coburn and Captain Lawson to the briefing room immediately”

The voice, stifled by a heavy Russian accent held little urgency in comparison to the scrambling Russian airmen who were busy to halt their daily chores and race to their posts. Juliana however froze for a moment in the middle of the cafeteria, her mind trying to compute where the briefing room actually was located, two months on the base and the only two places she had memorized the locations of were the Cafeteria and the Barracks, most of the signs were also in Cyrillic characters which didn’t help matters.

“Coburn! There you are”

A blonde topped head peered its way through the cafeterias double doors, the American accent caught Juliana’s attention and turned to face her commanding officer, Captain Lawson, the forty odd Air Force pilot leaned through the doorway with one hand clasped to its frame, the other rapidly beckoning for Coburn to hurry the hell up.

“Get suited up. Major wants us wheels up in 10”

Juliana didn’t even get a response in before the Captain darted back out the doors and out of sight, yet she didn’t have to be asked twice and quickly followed on, yet darted the opposite way to get dressed in her flight gear and retrieve her equipment.

---

“At approximately 1300 hours local time, Pechora Radar Station picked up a single unknown bogey approaching Russian Airspace; any attempts to contact the unknown aircraft have so far proved useless and it continues to ignore any warnings. We’ve spoken with U.S Air Combat Command and the Department of Defense and confirmed that the craft is not an American asset, nor Russian, we are continuing to press the Chinese but we think this is the real deal folks. XCOM Ground operatives failed to secure a Type-Alpha Alien Spacecraft during an operation in Guatemala a few days ago, we think this may be that craft. “

Major Vickland paused and flicked his gaze between the two pilots with his single eye, pausing on Juliana for a split second longer, his hand running over his greyed thinning hair. Vickland was XCOM’s liaison with the Russian airforce and one of their chief advisors, he had considerable experience with the U.S Air Force dating all the way back to Vietnam, his record, if you could even get to reading it, was drenched in black ink and bound with red tape, he knew his shit so to speak. He had been wary of Juliana as soon as she had been inducted into the program, whether it was just a misplaced tradition or something more personal he had it in for the female pilot, not that Juliana was in any position to complain or respond.

“A flight of two Russian Foxhounds from the 790th Interceptor Regiment have already picked up the bogey and are in pursuit. Call-sign Garpun, they will have more pertinent information once you link up with them at point victor. Russian Radar Command has their head up their ass today so don’t expect any significant updates, your Ravens are being fuelled and prepped as we speak…I expect nothing but the best today gentlemen….and lady…”

His single eye locked with hers for a moment before the Major saluted and dismissed them both. Coburn spoke softly as the pair briskly exited the room and turned for the hangar bays.

“I told you he has it in for me…”

“Don’t be stupid Coburn. You’ve just got to prove yourself”

“Prove myself. Don’t hundreds of hours flight time and more kills than any living female pilot ever recorded count as proving myself?”

“I mean for this. For XCOM.”

“Oh please. Why would they put me in one of these things if they didn’t think I was capable of handling myself?”

It didn’t take long for the pair to reach the hangar bays. The cavernous interior was reverberating with the noises of a dozen or so Russian air-crew as they were busy making their final checks to ensure that the fighting machines would operate at peak efficiency, if not even more so. The machine itself had been given the impromptu nickname the ‘Raven’ in place of its more monotonous and incredibly long XCOM designation, it was unlike any aircraft in existence and was a fitting testament to the creed of XCOM, borrowing minds and technology from all over the globe to make it possible. Chinese stealth tech and Propulsion, Russian avionics and navigation equipment, British electronics and Radar, American weaponry and airframe all built with German efficiency, all mashed into one cutting edge package, now all that remained was to put her through an actual combat situation.

Juliana had trained extensively with the Raven when it was in its final prototype and testing phases, in concept it was just like any other current generation fighter but with added flair and more futuristic tech hidden under the radar reflective, nanotube infused airframe. An in built superproccesor powered an artificial brain that linked in with the larger XCOM battle network and assisted the pilot in target acquisition, navigation and manoeuvring. The Raven also had particularly sharp talons, it had an in built 30mm, liquid nitrogen cooled rotary cannon housed in the left wing root behind a retracting flap, also multiple internal weapons bays housed a multitude of weapons platforms including the specially built ‘Avalanche missile’, based upon the chassis of a AiM-120 AMRAAM, it had seen overwhelming upgrades including a massive boost to the rocket motor, improved warhead and significantly modified tracking capabilities that made it twice as fast as its predecessor and three times as deadly. All this controlled by a living hub of computer systems linked to the pilots helmet to bleed out the most information it possible could fit comfortably on a heads up display,.

The cockpit lit up like a multi-million dollar Christmas tree as soon as Juliana slid into the flight seat; the ‘plane’ took a moment to biometrically scan her body to ensure the correct identity of the pilot.

‘Welcome. 2nd Lieutenant Coburn. Initiating on-board system startup.’

An artificial and female robotic voice spoke directly into Juliana’s right ear, it was a little discomforting, the notion of having a craft that was essentially ‘alive’, though the AI was little more than a glorified assistant and hopefully could not feel pain, fear or anger, Juliana nudged the prospects of a malfunctioning AI to the rear of her mind as she began going about the various pre-flight checks.

'Calibrating Heads up Display............Calibration Complete.'

“Gee thanks” Juliana sarcastically muttered to her incorporeal co-pilot.

<<This is Tower-1, Radio check, over>>

<<Tower-1, Panther is reading five by five, over>>

<<Coyote copies Tower, requesting taxi to runway oh-two-one, over>>

<<Coyote you are clear to taxi to runway oh-two-one, proceed to taxiway and hold short of the runway>>

Juliana pushed the throttle up by a fraction to get the plane moving from its stationary position in the hangar and towards the taxiway. The Raven, though capable of vertical takeoff and landing, the turbines facilitating such capabilities were not yet completely integrated into the flight systems, so a regular rolling takeoff was required.

Tapping the rudder controls with her feet, Juliana gently coasted the Raven down the taxiway just behind Lawson, his plane proceeded onto the tarmac whilst Juliana held just short of the runway and watched as Lawson prepared to take flight.

<<Panther…you are cleared for takeoff. Godspeed>>

The Raven rocked forward from standstill and began jaunting down the length of the runway, picking up considerable speed until the halfway point when a blue burst of light lept from the back of the craft, the main Pulse Engines kicked into life and provided the last push needed to lift the craft off the ground and into the air. It was a little nerve wracking to say the least, even though she had put the craft through its paces in training, nothing compared to the first combat operation, she tried to forget of such things and moved her own craft into position.

<<Coyote you are cleared for takeoff. Proceed when read]y>>

A gloved hand took hold of the throttle controls, centimetre by centimetre it gently incremented and started the craft rolling forward on the tarmac with rising speed, it only took several seconds to reach the required speed to activate the Pulse engines and with the simple toggle of a safety switch, they kicked into life. Instantly the craft vaulted forward with insane speed, the advanced G-suit and gyroscopic dampening staved off most of the effects from the incredible acceleration, yet Juliana still could barely turn her head to observe the scenery which was little more than a grey garbled blur at this speed and height, she still however, had the movement to pull the flight stick toward her, angling the nose of the Raven into the air and guiding the entire plane to cruise altitude, gently the G-forces subsided as the plane approached cruising speed.

---

Several minutes later

<<Push to Point Victor, bearing 150, maintain current altitude, go to secure channel and we will see what these Ruskies have for us>>

<<Copy, going secure>>

The pair of supersonic interceptors moved blisteringly fast above the Siberian wilderness, the ground was little more than a blur of unidentifiable colour as rock, trees and rivers all blended into one constantly rolling picture. Juliana turned her attention to the radar display and watched as two blips coasted gently from the top of the screen downward.

<<Panther, I have two radar contacts directly off our nose, these our guys?>>

<<Affirmative Coyote, keep monitoring the scope for our bogey>>

<<Roger>>

<<Garpun 1-1, this is Panther. Do you read?>>

<<Da, Panther, Garpun 1-1 Copies>>

<<Garpun 1-1, do you have information on our target, over?>>

<<We picked up a bogey at angels 14, east to west vector at approximately bearing zero-eight-two at mach 3.4, it was traveling too fast for us and is out of our weapons and radar range>>

Juliana, whilst the conversation was happening, was adjusting her radar controls to scan for the craft, just as luck would have it, a blotch appeared and was rapidly closing on their location; the speed of which it was travelling would put it within visual range in mere minutes.

<<Coyote here. I have radar contact. 3-o'clock off our nose.>>

<<Copy Coyote, I’m having some radar interference or possible malfunction on my end, you may have to engage. Garpun, keep tracking and prepare to assist over>>

<<Da, Garpun 1-1 on station>>

The Ravens broke off to the right and increased their already pretty high speed, moving at such an angle as to intercept their target as soon as possible. Anticipating combat, Juliana took a moment to prepare the missiles housed in the weapons bay, the Avalanche missiles appeared as an icon on one of the many displays in the cockpit, a green highlight signified they were armed and the seeker heads were awaiting a target.

<<Coyote to Panther, weapons hot>>

<<Copy Coyote, wait until we have visual ID, could have a phantom dot>>

A doubtful prospect, but always a possibility. The pair waited only moments more before their suspicions became fact, at first just a mere greyed blot on the horizon, the abnormal shape and the way in which it moved heavily indicated that this was no normal aircraft.

<<I have confirmed visual ID on the bandit. Closing to engage>>

<<Copy, fire when ready>>

Juliana tilted the Raven a tad to the starboard side, gently guiding the craft on an intercept course to bring the radar to acquire positive lock, at the same time the Alien craft moved with surprising agility and began swinging away, attempting to outpace the turn of the Raven.

<<Gah, he’s turning hard on me>>

<<Choke the throttle and pull hard. This bird and you can handle it>>

Doing as the Captain said, Juliana first cranked the throttle back by two thirds and yanked the stick backwards hard which pitted the Raven in a harsh turn, straining both the aircraft and the pilot, yet technology managed to overcome physics and the plane pulled out of the turn ahead of its target again.

<<Ok…tracking….>>

‘Target Locked’

<<Thanks….Confirmed lock on Bandit….Fox Three…..Fox Three!>>

Juliana depressed the weapons release switch which swung the bay doors open, located on the wing roots of the craft, then a second later two missiles were hydraulically separated from the craft, clearing them of the fuselage ready for the rocket motors to kick in which happened a split second later, catapulting both missiles even faster than the Raven and indeed, UFO. Again the UFO moved with un-natural ability and managed to evasively dart from the first missiles path, the Avalanche passed mere meters off to one side, yet the second missile still continued the chase.

<<He’s breaking hard. Maintaining pursuit>>

Juliana followed the UFO and peppered the air with the 30mm cannon around the UFO just to harass and to ensure it didn’t do the same again to the second missile. She watched it sail in from above; the orange trail drew closer and closer to the silver hull of the Alien craft until impact. The missile detonated well within effective range and enveloped the entire craft in a wrap of smoke and fire, the extent of the damage hidden behind the black plumes emanating from the breached hull.

<<Confirmed missile hit. Target is airborne but not for long>>

Whomever, or whatever was at the controls still desperately tried to prevent the craft falling, yet only managed to guide the UFO in a sloped curve until it could not oppose gravity any longer, it slammed into the Siberian tundra and kicked up snow laced dirt in its wake. It took a moment for the dust and mist to settle around the crash site, the craft continued to burn with flames emitting a strange hue against the ground, whatever alien metals used in the craft burned with a coloured flame.

<<Bandit down. He’s hit the dirt hard.>>

Juliana straitened the Raven out and observed her handiwork for a brief second whilst the crashed UFO was still visible. A small smile crept up behind her flight mask when she realized she had achieved her first UFO kill, and indeed air-to –air kill.

‘Target craft has successfully been neutralized. Notifying XCOM Central Command’

<<Good kill Coyote. Lets push back to the home plate. Drinks are on me>>

The Raven beamed out a signal to an XCOM satellite out in earths near orbit, which would then beam the message directly to XCOM central command all the way at Groom Lake. It would take mere seconds for the alert to reach Colonel Reid and his team in the facility where they would make the necessary preparations for the ground team to secure the downed craft, hopefully this time with a larger degree of success.

[Beiarusia]

’The Ice Below’
Gulag 424, Siberia, Russia
March 30, 2014 - 19:21
22°F (-6°C) Light Snow

Spring had yet to arrive in the Siberian backlands. Even now on the eve of April the snow continued to fall in a light flurry, silent, dusting the world in a thin sheet of pure white with only the evergreen firs to break the beautiful monotony. A winsome tranquility like that of a masterfully painted landscape. Civilization was little more than a distant thought and nature was left uninterrupted, but that wasn’t to say that mankind had no presence here. A forgotten road cut through the taiga, cracked and overgrown, showing the path to a latter-day ruin left abandoned to Mother Earth with only the echoes of the past to give tribute to what had once been. A terrible scar that was slowly healing. Gulag 424. A former Soviet prison camp than once played home to all manner of murders, terrorist, and political enemies of the state until its sudden closure in late 1967. Much of the camp had been lost to decay but the central building complex, north watchtower, and sections of the eastern rampart still remained, defiant to the harsh winters that had laid waste to the once indomitable structure that was more fort than prison. The immediate area was an artificial glade, cleared and open with only a few gnarled saplings to brave the expanse. A wooden cross identified what would otherwise be an unmarked graveyard. Countless men had died here, many nameless, and the stale air was left with a bitter feeling.

It was to the southeast of Gulag 424 that the UFO had come down. A deep wound had been carved into the forest, cutting thick for almost a kilometer, an event that shattered the placid serenity with a thunderous roar that would have been heard for miles around had anyone been there to listen. Black smoke rose into the already clouded sky like a signal to the damned.

XCOM had reacted almost immediately. Within moments of the UFO being sighted and engaged the Skyrangers had been loaded and launched, covering the 5,700 miles from Groom Lake to northern Russia in just under three hours. Bravo and Delta were riding with Big Sky; Alpha and Charlie were with Dead Sea. Intel was still being gathered so the briefing only begun ten minutes before dropping out of supersonic flight.

Colonel Reid spoke to both aircraft via a video monitor with the screen displaying maps and other useful information as needed. He cut right to the point. “An alien UFO was intercepted and shot down over Siberia little more than three hours ago. We’ve confirmed it to be the very same ship encountered in Guatemala, and by extension Munich. Though having the UFO intact would have been preferable this is a great opportunity for XCOM nonetheless. Bravo and Delta will be leading the recovery operation. Clear the UFO of all alien lifeforms, but do not damage the ship unless absolutely necessary. Your lives take priority but we need that salvage in one piece.

“Alpha and Charlie, your task is to clear the abandoned prison camp. Russian GRU teams have confirmed alien survivors in the vicinity of the prison. Fix that. Be aware that the Ruskies are getting impatient. They’ve politely been asked to stand down but I don’t think they’re listening. Regardless the objective remains the same. That’s all. And remember, everyone comes home.”

The two Skyrangers slowed into a descent only minutes later.

Big Sky quickly ID’d the crash site and zeroed in, coming to within half a kilometer before bringing the aircraft down into the ruined track of forest. It wasn’t a complete touchdown but the soldiers could easily jump the last few feet to the ground without needing to worry about accidental injuries. Once clear the Skyranger rose back into the air to provide aerial observation. Bravo and Delta had a clear path to the UFO. As of now there was no movement.

Dead Sea broke west towards Gulag 424. Save for the prison camp itself there were no suitable landing spots so the soldiers were forced to rappel down onto the snow-covered road with maybe a kilometer between them and the prison. The Skyranger than backed off to circle. Alpha and Charlie quickly began their jog towards the prison camp but were soon stopped by the sound of a snapping twig. They had only just raised their weapons in anticipation when a flurry of forceful Russian shouted over the stillness of the forest. Within moments the XCOM soldiers were greeted to the sight of seven Russian GRU operatives materializing from out of the underbrush.

The commander approached Sgt. Barbs and spoke in heavily accented, broken English. “We hear rumors. You fight the aliens, da? That makes you ally, but we, we fight for our Motherland. We lead you to Gulag and we fight. Come.”

For better or for worse Alpha and Charlie had local support.

[Anowa]

Cpl. Elsa Harewood

Roscoe asked about what they've been doing so far, "Well....if you have to know Roscoe, I've been doing few changes on my weapons for the next operation. Sidearm to machine. Other than that, normal. Well, I don't know, probably took more swig to some guy, right Wolfram HA HA!" cheerfully said by Elsa as she punched lightly on Wolfram's shoulder.

Sergeant Wolfram Herrman, Bravo-1
A lance of pain went up Wolfram's arm, and he grimaced. Glancing down he noticed a growing red spot on his sleeve. He pulled his sleeve up to spot something surprising, a small piece of glass poking out. Apparently someone missed a few pieces of shrapnel. And somehow he didn't feel it. Say what you will about Canadian healthcare they missed things from time to time.

"Well shit." He frowned, "Guess I'm not drinking tonight." He pulled the foreign body free and put pressure on the new wound, "I'm gonna head off to the mad bay, catch you all later."

---

Big Sky quickly ID’d the crash site and zeroed in, coming to within half a kilometer before bringing the aircraft down into the ruined track of forest. It wasn’t a complete touchdown but the soldiers could easily jump the last few feet to the ground without needing to worry about accidental injuries. Once clear the Skyranger rose back into the air to provide aerial observation. Bravo and Delta had a clear path to the UFO. As of now there was no movement.

Five days since the glass was plucked from his shoulder, and now Wolfram was in his element. 'Acquired' medical bandages wrapped his form, keeping him as pale as the rest of the surrounding Siberia. The cold biting his skin with a gleeful familiarity. The Boreal Forest keeping sound from going too far discernibly. This was where he did his best, and this is where the alien fuckers who made the mistake of stepping onto their rock would paint the snow with their viscera. He exhaled, the fog of his breath gone from the recently acquired gas mask. It kept the open nerve in his forehead from burning too badly. Minus thirty or so degrees did that.

'Twas a glorious day.

As his own team and Delta squad formed up he spoke out to Zander, "You guys leading, Major?"

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Sergeant Vasily Seregyevich Ivanov - XCOM - Unit Charlie
Current Local Time (Magdan Time), 30/3/2014
Gulag 424, Siberia, Russia

It was refreshing for Vasily to be back in his home country. While he has never been to this part of Russia and the circumstances are not ideal, it still has that homely feeling for him. This invasion of his country made this mission much more personal for him. He'd rather fight the aliens in Kabul than Volgograd. When he came into the hanger, he was wearing his old-Soviet military ushanka than his usual ultramarine beret. He knew that he would be fighting in winter conditions, so he was wearing XCOM's winter uniform.

During the ride to the location, he was singing a few Soviet military songs in the cabin of the Skyranger. A few of the songs he sung was the Sacred War and Red Army is Strongest. While his singing wasn't the best, everyone could tell there was feeling and emotion in the Russian lyrics he sang aloud. His singing quieted when the Skyranger landed. A smile appeared on his face when the landing ramp opened and everyone in the cabin could feel the Siberian cold hit them in the face.

When Vasily and the rest of XCOM operatives walked off the Skyranger and jogged towards the prison camp, he noticed figures moving in the underbrush towards them. He was about to lift his SMG at the figures, but then he noticed their uniforms and their insignia. They were GRU Spestnaz. But not only that, they were his fellow countrymen. Vasily watched as the GRU field commander spoke to Barbs and looked over the commander at the other Spestnaz soldiers behind him. Vasily casually walked towards the GRU soldiers. "Как это холодно мои братья? (Translation: How is the cold my brothers?)"

As soon as he said that one of the soldiers looked at his fellow comrade. They noticed that Vasily was wearing a Soviet-Era ushanka and one of the faceless soldiers said, "Эй дедушка, фашисты теперь мертвы. (Translation: Hey Grandpa, the fascists are all dead now.)" The younger soldier, his voice revealing his age, chuckled at his comment.

"Может быть и так. Но если родина нуждается в старых воинов, как и я, молодое поколение должно быть дерьмо." (Translation: Perhaps so. But if the motherland needs old warriors like me, the younger generation must be shit.) He walked over to the younger soldier and examined his uniform. "Так что ваше имя Иван Ильич. Является ли ваш отец Илья Александрович?" (Translation: So your name is Ivan Ilyich. Is your father Ilya Alexandrovich?).

The younger soldier looked stunned at Vasily's comment and replied, "Da."

"Твой отец и я служил в Афганистане вместе. Как здоровье Илья в эти дни?" (Translation: Your father and I served in Afghanistan together. How is Ilya's health these days?)

"Он был лучше. (Translation: He's been better.)"

[Altito Asmoro]

Cpl. Elsa "Valkyrie" Harewood / Alpha 2
Gulag 424, Siberia, Russia

The weather's freezing her body. Yes, she had experienced winter previously in Canada, but it was not as cold as now. Her assignments in Middle East didn't help much, since the contrast of the weathers are as clear as the blue sky. The prison camp is wide and large, with watchtower sighted not far from where they are currently now. She looked on the Russian GRU, who are their local support. But they must be tasked by the Russian government to...do something for the Russia as well, gain something, even. With Shi Ai Nu moved to Charlie, she has been sort of promoted into Alpha 2. Whether or not it will hold something like a vice captain position...

Not a good thing, but to be expected anyway.

She glanced to the Alpha team, who beside Sgt. Barbs are either new operator or from the other squad, like Joon-Sook. She had heard of the exploits at Mexico, and to be fair it was not a good thing. Were not good things.

She looked on, hands on the rifle tight enough, as she looked warily over her surroundings as the GRU led the XCOM.

[Relikai]

CPL Konayama Miyuki "Milky", Bravo Two, Sniper.
Siberia, Russia

The trip over was relatively silent for Miyuki, the sniper sitting next to Samir, as was the norm nowadays. However, she did not lean on the man, choosing to keep her posture straight and grim, the normally chatty sniper now being a silent lady, sitting on her seat, looking at the person across her.

Akio.

Miyuki said little, and did little, other than ensuring that her weapon was dry of oil and grease. Having such substances freeze up during combat would make ET the least of her worries, Miyuki checking the folded grappling hook by the side of her vest once again, before going through yet another equipment check, the third of this trip.

The sniper said nothing as they hopped off the Skyranger, the cold air stealing her breath as she adapted to the conditions. She hated this place. Hated the North, hated China... Not because of the people or anything they did to her, but rather the memories which carried some ghosts of her past...

"Milky! Can you see them?"
"Trying to! Low light and my scope's fogging up in the cold!"
"Damnit. Shunta, get us closer!"

The cold sea breeze chilled the sniper to her bones, Milky lying prone at the bow of the speedboat while a rope around her waist secured her from falling off. It was a foggy night, with almost zero illumination from the moon. One could hardly see ten meters beyond the boat as the SFG team lay low on their boat, a helicopter aiding them in the pursuit of a group of suspected terrorists.

"Shoto Ace, Sendai Command. Situation report."
"Sendai, Shoto. Pursuing target on true course. We... Milky!"

A wave which crested before the speedboat sent it on a bump, Milky's leg slipping off the wet surface as she gave out a cry. The rope held, and Milky managed to hold on to the boat although the rifle on her back was dangling dangerously close to the water.

"We got you!"
"I got... I got it too!" Milky yelled as she pulled herself up, the sniper quickly adjusting her bearings.

They could barely see each other, their faces painted in matte black camouflage, only the whites of their eyes provided a bit of sense of where a person was as Milky returned to her spot, the team leader checking his map once more.

"Five kilometers to the North Korean waters!"
"Damn, we don't have much time. Mazaki, what do you have for us?"
"Radar is picking up shipping up ahead, target is headed towards the shore. A cluster of three ships will be cutting in between you and the target in five minutes."

"I got sight!"

Milky's voice carried over the air as all eyes turned to the front. The speedboat carrying a group of nine suspects was in full throttle, but the SFG's machine finally managed to catch up to them.

"Milky, this is Tenzen. Take the shot."

A muffled shot rang out, followed by another, and another. The mounted 12.7mm Anti-Material Rifle was securely fastened onto the front of the modified boat, a hole in the front allowing a sniper to deliver precise shots at long range in a prone position. Milky's personal M24 was secured on her back, as she leaned to the side to get a clearer shot at the engines. The lack of light and the bumpy conditions did not help much, but being part of a Tier One group, these were simply obstacles to overcome.

That is, if she has not been suffering from a flu the day before, a bug which infected half the camp. A minor inconvenience which became noticeably disruptive as Milky's team was on standby for the past seventy two hours, catching only snippets of sleep as the operation to flush out a North Korean cell working with remnants of the Japanese Red Army continued across the week. There were plans to rotate Milky's squad into standing down, but multiple appearances across Japan needed the SFG to deploy their assets from Kagoshima to Osaka, Tokyo and even Hokkaido. It was winter, and Milky's team being stationed in Hokkaido for the past two days did nothing for their general health. Worse still, confirmation of the cell in Fukuoka forced them to take a C-130 south, and the powerful air conditioning did not help matters.

Ten shots out, the speedboat was visibly damaged but still on the move. Milky was sure she hit more than one man who ducked under the hull, as she called for a spare magazine which was passed over in an instant.

"Shoto Ace, Mazaki. We're approaching North Korean borders, hostile radar painting us. Turning back. Good luck."
"Firing!"
"Roger that Mazaki. Milky! Forget about disabling them! Sink tho- What!"

A large splash formed near the SFG boat, creating a geyser of water which drenched the miserable operators. Turning to the side, they could see the silhouette of a ship, a ship larger than both the SFG and the terrorist boat combined.

A patrol corvette.

"Evade, evade! Maintain radio silence, we're cutting the mission on my orders!"

Shitty weather, shitty place, shitty aliens.

Milky pulled her AX338 from its covers, allowing the weapon to slowly get adapt to the cold temperatures. With its chambers empty, the sniper repeated the action of charging the weapon multiple times, to allow the parts to get used to working in the cold. Simply, she did that for several minutes as the team formed up, her eyes keeping a lookout along the trees.

[Serah]

Alrick was silent throughout the trip. It was his first mission fighting against the aliens, a crashed down UFO.
Possible enemy casualties, and in Siberia.
He didn't mind the cold, in fact during the recent years, French winters had been increasingly cold, and the Afghan winter was basically a breeze to him.
He knew exactly what he was getting into.

However despite all of that, he kept to himself, reloading several times to get the weapon used to it.
Even if it was a rifle able to be used at arctic temperatures, he didn't want to take any chances, several of his mates in his previous squads had problems with their Hecate because they hadn't warmed it up before.

As his mind wandered off, he kept in mind the one thing that would be the deadliest to him.
The Strider. the worst was that he couldn't hit it to a nigh perfect degree at all times, which not only was a hit to his honor, but also a big problem to him in general.
Kevlar armor won't stop it.

His grip around the AX338 tightened, and he dropped from the helicopter, awaiting orders.
His gaze was lingering on the distant UFO and the trees. For all he knew, they could come out of them, or have some kind of cloaking device.
Never too sure with aliens.

"On your order."

[Independent States of Tula]

CPL Ethan "Beagle" King, Alpha 3, Gulag 424, Siberia, Russia

The meeting with Colonel Reid had gone well enough, with Beagle simply being accepted by the man and placed in Alpha Squad under the command of one Sergeant Barbs. Beagle had yet to speak with his Squad Leader but he figured it wouldn't matter too much in the long run, they'd have plenty of time to exchange greetings later. Especially considering that no more than half an hour in Nevada and already the call to action came...from Siberia no less. Beagle had to react fast, finding the armory to requisition his modified AX338, PP-2000, and a winterized version of the XCOM Armor and Rangefinder as well as a white balaclava to keep his face warm in the cold tundra of Siberia. If he was honest Beagle wasn't too big of a fan of the armor, sure it was light but at the same time it was also far too bulky and cumbersome thanks to the shoulder guards in the Australian's opinion, he preferred a more minimalist approach rather than protective...but in the end the standard was the standard for the time being.

Once he was equipped and armored however Beagle made his way to Dead Sea and loaded up with the rest of Alpha and Charlie, then, knowing it would be a long flight the Australian sniper decided to use the time to get some rest and doze off. It didn't take too long for Beagle to escape reality if only for a few hours until the call came to get up and get ready to rappel down onto the snows below. Once he hit the ground Beagle moved off to the side and pulled out his PP-2000 as he covered an arc in case of immediate contact at the LZ, however there was none and so the two squads began moving for the Gulag. Beagle was happy he'd brought his sunglasses as the glare from the sun off the snow was blinding without them. However the sniper didn't have long to think on that as the sudden sound of a breaking twig sent him down onto one knee as he twisted to get a shot on whatever made that noise.

The sight of half a dozen or so Russian GRU troops coming out of the woods on either side of the woods didn't exactly make Beagle calm, after all a lot of his conventional warfare training was designed around combating them, the Chinese, or the North Koreans. However, at their officer's words Beagle lowered his PP-2000 when they pointed out their desire to fight alongside the XCOM troops rather than fight them directly.

"Oh wonderful, a bunch of blow ins with a death wish. Just what we needed." Beagle muttered under his breath as he stood back up.

Ammo/Kill Counter
Kills: 0
Ammo: 3x 20rd Magazines of 7N31 +P+ (All Green)
5x 5rd Magazines of .338 Lapua Magnum (All Green)