XCOM: First Contact (IC|Open)

[Anowa]

>>OOC<<
OP: Anowa
Co-OP(s): Kentucky Fried Land

---

Lt. Wolfram Herrman, Alpha 1
Sgt. Valeska Kowalski, Bravo 1

March 22nd, 2017 // Groom Lake Complex, XCOM HQ

Groom Lake had been swiftly re-purposed in the three some odd years since ETs had first come to public light. Prior it had just been a small underground research bunker, a runway, and some surface hangars. Now it had a helipad rigged to an elevator system, and over 200 personnel, security, and combat operators lived beneath the surface... Or it least it had been home to about 200 people, before the most recent operation. Two squads had been wiped in effect, and while a few would live, they were missing chunks of their physique and couldn't go any further here at XCOM.

Which is why the new blood was called in.

Roughly 8 people had been pulled from an assortment of armies across the world, all kept in relative darkness about just how shitty their odds had become. Likely told that they'd be saviors of humanity, and the safeguard against the alien menace. They likely weren't told that they had sent 32 people home in either body bags or with missing body parts and organs due to their wounds.

Yet the Skyranger, a big, hefty, and seemingly redundant VTOL, moving at speeds that most fighter craft couldn't reach, it could get them to most locations on earth within a few scant hours. Truly a pinnacle of human achievement. Was carrying several men and women who very likely wouldn't be in XCOM for more than a single combat engagement.

As it settled and winded down, Herrman looked over at his compatriot,Kowalski, a sizeable woman who in most cases would be considered attractive, if a bit muscular. Her eyes were a far cry from the shining and seemingly happy ones in her dossier. Dark rings, notable bags, and dull, Hell even the woman's bright hair seemed a bit... faded today. An inability to sleep after the last engagement was the likely cause. Wolfram's eyes were about the same, though with a notable redness, the officer fitting to drink the previous battle out of memory ineffectively. Both had taken hit after hit mentally during their stint at XCOM. Yet they kept going, depressed but yet to give in.

As the Skyranger's ramp dropped and the new arrivals started pouring out, Herrman sighed, Kowalski took a ragged breath within closed eyes. She made an effort to get to know every person who walked off the Skyranger's ramp, but so far it only resulted in a figurative punch to the gut when they departed.

Herrman shook his head and called out "Everybody fall in!" as the collection of individuals did just that, he couldn't help but notice the patches on their shoulders, denoting their nation of origin. Japan, Russia, Italy, a few other western nations were present, as well as Indonesia. In the corner of the hangar, staff started either loading coffins or helping the crippled squad mates on to the Skyranger for delivery to Nellis AFB, and then they'd be sent home.

"I am Lieutenant Wolfram Herrman, Welcome to Groom Lake, the headquarters of the UN's Extra-Terrestrial Combat Unit, otherwise known as XCOM. From here on out your activity's will be monitored 24/7, every doorway you pass through will perform a deep scan of your nervous system to make sure you aren't an alien infiltrator, and as you can see," Wolfram raised his arm in gesture to the previous squad that made up XCOM's members, "Casualty rate is high. Batch 1 made it through 4 engagements. 2 made it through 6. And 3 didn't even make it through one before boarding that Skyranger for home. You're Batch 4, I estimate similar results. Please prove me wrong." a pause, suddenly Wolfram's stomach felt like dying. "This is Sergeant Valeska Kowalski, she will be giving you a tour of the base, and get you acquainted with most of it's staff. I have other things to attend to, but I'll be sure to check in with you within the next few hours." With a nod he departed off towards one of the darker corners of the hangar, looking for one of the bathrooms, so he wouldn't vomit on the floor.

Kowalski nodded silently, before waiting a few seconds, fianlly shaking her head, "There's no point. Arrows on the walls will point you towards the Mess Hall and Barracks, rarely will you be called to the CIC, regular station of Central, John Bradford, and Commander Whitman. Engineering is largely off limits to us grunts, as is the Research Bay. SO, just stay in the Barrack, Med Bay, and Mess if you don't want to be reprimanded... Dismissed."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Petyor grunted at the terse tour, before shouldering his rucksack and looking for the signs which read "Barracks". Someone had fucked up, that was clear enough. Androvich was no stranger to casualties. His new team wouldn't be here if the ones before them hadn't shuffled off this mortal coil, or bollocksed it up beyond all belief. It wasn't good though, seeing their commanding officers so downcast. The aliens needed to be fought, or humanity would knuckle under, and at first glance the dour Russian wasn't sure if his commanders were up to the job.

But time would tell, he supposed. His harsh voice, heavy with too many years of drinking and shouting, echoed around the landing bay, addressed to nobody in particular.

"Petyor Androvich, assigned Fireteam Bravo, XCOM Field Command. Anybody else in Bravo, we should get bunked down. I have a year's worth of field reports to read, and I don't intend to do it on an empty stomach."

He waited momentarily as the other soldiers looked at each other, then turned, stomping off towards the living quarters with footsteps still military precise despite his gruff nonchalant attitude.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Corporal Iskra Lishu Vasilyeva Ivanova - XCOM - Unit Alpha - Alpha 03
Iskra was silent on the Skyranger ride over here. Throughout the whole trip she had been quietly reading an worn out coverless copy of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. This copy has been with her since the start of her career in the military. She likes to read it again and again to de-stress herself. Of course she did read other books, but this was the only book that she managed to keep during her travels. It was also a gift from her mother before she left to the military. Iskra closed the book and placed it gently into her dufflebag when the Skyranger landed and the ramp began to open. Iskra grabbed her dufflebag and backpack on the way out. As soon as she got off the ramp, Iskra habitually adjusted her old faded ultramarine VDV beret.

The speech given to them by Wolfram about their chances of survival wasn't reassuring. If anything, it made her feel like cattle rather than a person. The people around her had been chosen by their respective countries to fight the alien menace. Yet it was obvious that they weren't the first picks. It made Iskra wonder whether or not the previous members in XCOM were more experienced than them when they first started. Because if so, what chance do they have if the first picks of their respective countries are already dead or combat ineffective?

Kowalski was no less encouraging. She just added to the sense of despair and of tiredness that Iskra noticed in both of them. Both of their officers seemed to be already defeated mentally. And if they were to lead them in battle, would they be effective? They survived this long, or perhaps they were part of the other batches? Maybe they feel the guilt of surviving this long while their comrades are either dead or incapacitated for life?

The sound of Petyor Androvich's voice reminded her of her own father back in St. Petersburg. The way he talked marketed himself as an aged heavy drinker. Because of her own father's alcoholism, Iskra doesn't drink much. Those nights talking about his service in Afghanistan brought back a strange feeling of nostalgia and pain. She looked to her comrades and then said, "If we're going to die together, we mind as well get to know each other better. I'm Iskra, I served in the VDV and in the FSA before coming here."

[Relikai]

The Skyranger was an exceptional piece of technology, more advanced than anything she witnessed even in Japan's technological research departments. It was large, agile and moved with a speed not even the latest known jet aircraft could reach. All in all, this deployment was... interesting... and the fact that she of the SBU was selected indicated the secrecy of the unit as well as the level of proficiency required to even be considered a member.

Not that flattering, since Mayu saw herself as a replacement, which she knew she was, for a unit which ceased to exist. She traveled light, simple physical copies of a small diary and a collection of pictures featuring her home being her only personal effects. She switched over to a non-camera military issue handheld device too, not wanting to draw suspicion of taking classified pictures with her equipment.

The speech given by her superiors was... brief and to the point, just like she hoped for. No sentiments, no masking of the dangers they face. Mayu simply nodded as she stood st the front, not planning to be dwarfed by the others while she stood in her 155cm frame. Small as she was, the woman packed the spirit of a giant as claimed by her teammates, a sniper by trade but an all rounder in truth.

"Mayu, former SBU, Japanese Maritime Self Defence Force." She spoke clear English, with a slight Japanese accent but mostly in the srtyle of the American advisors she worked with. "Fireteam Bravo, Sniper. My... pleasure... to be here."

[Theodosiya]

Pvt Greg Prakoso
HQ, Groom Lake Complex

Greg watched everyone closely. He never worked in International unit before. Well, not alone, mostly with a squad or even a platoon of fellow Marines or Spec Ops units. He did learn several different language, it helps both his selection into Amphibious Recon Battalion, Jala Mangkara Detachment and now, XCOM. On the way there inside Skyranger, he just can't stop marveling at it. Never in his life he get to ride inside something so advanced, that for his countrymen, it would be something only the richest and the most advanced countries could do, like USA or PRC. Not NKRI. He'd still lay his life for it, though. Otherwise, he'll be content sitting in an office, or worse, in the People Representative Council building, draining blood off the people.

Replacement, huh? Could be worse. I've been through many phases. First guy landed during a terrorist busting operation? Done that. Recceing an OPM base full off RPGs and Dishkas? Done it. Rescuing my poor cousin while he's barely alive, in an isolated village, and the village is deep inside OPM-held territory? Well, save my poor cousin condition, a success. And infiltration mission in Lehad Datu? Heh, TDM never know who hit 'em. No matter what, I should do my best. Larus thought. He anticipated that he'll stay there for a very long time, so he bring many of his personal effect. A guitar, a GX800VH and Zenfone AR that he bought just before departing to replace his old laptop and phone, Canon EOS 7D Mark II, several books, clothing and HDDs where he kept many photos and data from his 12 years of service.

He smiled when he realized it's his SL who is giving the speech. Straight to the point. Something that he likes. And honesty. He hoped that the man would be easy to work with. The presence of women here interest him, though. He know some woman in Navy, Air Force or Army. But few serve in Spec Ops unit. The only one he knew closely is his cousin. The tall and muscular man sighed, and then looked at everyone else. "Miss Iskra" he looked at her, "Miss Mayu" he bowed slightly at her, "and everyone else. I'm Gregorius Prakoso. Just call me Greg." His Indonesian accent withstanding, he tried to spoke clearly. "Fireteam Alpha, Assault. Served in Marine Corps, Amphibious Recon Battalion and Jala Mangkara Detachment for 12 colorful year. I hope I won't disappoint you all and up with you guys class"

[Vacif]

Sqd. Joe F. Kilroy
Bravo 6 | 'PARA'

Their welcome was... less than inspiring, it didn't help that their predecessors were being shipped home some ways away from them. It wasn't explicitly stated, but he could wager the body bags and walking wounded being loaded onto a plane were batch three. They were batch four, and in Chinese culture four was an unlucky number. It was too close to the word 'Die' or something. He knew the risks, he wouldn't kid himself that he'd save everyone. People would get hurt, and people would die but he'd be dammed if he at least didn't try to save some lives.

He really couldn't blame their unit leaders. They'd just been thrown out of hell's kitchen, coupled with the toll of losing two more units behind them on top of whatever their military past was. Things weren't pretty. If things got worse they'd weigh on their conscience as well. If they weren't already aware of the danger this intro should of been a sobering view of what lies ahead.

After being quickly dismissed the mass of international troops moved further into the facility introducing themselves. "Joe Kilroy, American 82nd Airborne, Panther Brigade. I'll be your Medic for the duration of this assignment Bravo. And uhh... yeah. Let's grab some chow after we finish unpacking." He said resolutely. Determined to leave this depressing air behind them. Wouldn't be good to linger on something so demoralizing. They could not afford insecurity.

As they walked down the halls of the Groom Lake Facility, he wondered what it was like living so far down for so long. Would they get anything special for being humanity's shield against E.T? How was the food? Facilities? The VTOL was pretty impressive, what else were they packing? Did they have individual rooms or were they all sleeping on bunks together? He was fine with both. He hadn't brought much. Just a duffel with some random personal affects.

[Monopolgrad]

Jason was simply too amazed to comment at first. That VTOL they came in on, the Skyranger, was the most advanced thing he had ever seen. Jason didn't know much about aircraft but if he had to guess, he would say that it flew faster than most or maybe all fighters. The US had some high tech stuff, but this was almost better than he could imagine. And this place had engineering and research bays? He couldn't wait to see what they produced.

His amazement was quickly tempered by the sight of the ragged survivors and coffins from the last batch. It was clear that their commanding officers were hit hard by the losses. As perverse as it seem. Jason was almost cheered up by that fact. He had encountered plenty of officers that viewed their troops only as fodder to tossed into the grinder. He didn't expect the fight to be easy, but he was prepared to fight back for Earth.

Jason nodded at the two members of Unit Bravo that had intro introduced themselves. "I'm Jason Sauser, and I'll be the heavy for Bravo. I look forward to serving with you all."

[Czeckolutania]

Henry Jackman
Groom Lake Complex

Jackman look around the skyranger and sensed everyones astonishment. He rolled his eyes and thought to himself "yeah, VTOL works great... until it doesn't." He thought back to the almost monthly Osprey crashes he'd read about in the Leatherneck magazines. After disembarking and recieving the speech Jackman felt no reassurance that he or anyone else was going to survive. While Bravo was introducing themselves he pulled out his can of Copenhagen.

A short rhythmic tap tap tap drew attention to him. As he put a pinch of tobacco in his mouth Henry introduced himself. "The names Lance Corporal Jackman, I'll be Alpha's marksman." With that said he picked up his OD green sea bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Suppose we should get moving." He said as he took a few steps planning to get settled in the barracks and get some chow.

[Parcia]

Isabel Cruise
Groom Lake complex

She slept on the way in. In her defense, she had taken a 12 hour flight from England, then the hour or so flight on the VTOL. Said 12 hour flight was aboard a USAF C-130, a big slow bird that wasn't at all quiet. She had to be flown in from England, through Heathrow, were she had been getting her gun tuned by royal gunsmith. Her AWM was due for an overhaul and she had to cut it close just to catch the flight out.

She awoke to the sounds of boots marching and engines spooling down and stood up, still groggy. She slung her rifle back and her pack and made her way with the rest of the group. She needed a shower and a nap.

[Sweillia]

Callum started to feel the Skyranger slowly descending, We're landing, he thought to himself. He couldn't sleep at all before the flight. Part of him was excited to get a this new assignment, but another part of him was slightly distressed. All he was given was file, most of which was lathered in black ink, and he was told that in two days he would be leaving the UK for Groom Lake, Nevada. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. Even though the seats in the Skyranger were kind of comfortable, when he tried get some sleep, the constant humming of its engines kept him awake.

The Skyranger had started to slow down as well. After a couple of minutes, the Skyranger's pilot announced "Approaching LZ, ETA 2 minutes." His head was starting to dip down when the craft violently jolted. The Skyranger had landed. The ramp started to slowly descend, and Skyranger's interior was flooded with light from the outside world. Some of the other recruits stood up from their seats and started to walk out. Callum followed suit. A big woman with pink hair asked him his name on his way off the ramp, but he simply ignored her, all he wanted to do was get some sleep.

Once all of the recruits were out of the Skyranger, they were given a quick speech and tour by their superiors. Once the tour was over, the first thing Callum did was look around him for the sign to the barracks. When he did find it, he walked off quickly before any of the other recruits started up a conversation with him. Upon reaching the barracks and finding his bed, he lay back on the bed, sighed with relief and closed his eyes.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Corporal Iskra Lishu Vasilyeva Ivanova - XCOM - Unit Alpha - Alpha 03

Mayu, Greg, Joe, Jason, and Jackman. I guess the other two are too tired to speak with us at the moment. Iskra followd the others as they all walked towards the barracks. The signs were definitely helpful for newcomers and were easy to spot. Although it did make Iskra wonder what would happen in the event of an intruder or an infiltrator entering the base. If everything in the base was nicely guided to, then it would be easier to sabotage things around XCOM.

"I forgot to mention that I've been assigned to Alpha Unit as the medic." She spoke casually. "I wonder if this base has a decent recreation center. I like to read a book every now and then. While Crime and Punishment is my favorite book, I need a break from the same material for the Nth time." Reading has always been something that Iskra could never really give up. Perhaps it was from her upbringing in St. Petersburg where almost everyone seemed to read everywhere. At the park. At the metro. At the restaurant. At the queue. Everywhere. Maybe it was also because St. Petersburg was known as the cultural capital of Russia that everyone likes to be seen reading to show how cultured they are."

"This is probably the nicest looking military base I've been too in all my life. Much better than anything I've seen in Russia and definitely in Syria."

[ApplePieistan]

Catherine Voronova

Once inside XCOM HQ, Catherine hung out with the bulk of the other soldiers in the barracks. The whole gang was far too diverse for her taste, but this seemed like something she'd just have to deal with. These folks were from all over, mostly from countries she could tolerate, except for those two. Petyor and Iskra, two despicable Russians. Not enough their kind have to take Crimea, now they have to infest XCOM too? Hopefully that Lieutenant was right and they would both be ray-gunned into sandwich spread. If she had to live with them too long, they might start disappearing. Petyor went off by himself, probably going to get vodka or something. Whatever, Catherine didn't care. She was still with the lady Russian, a medic by the looks of it. Catherine mutters to herself "If this is the best we got, we're fucked."

Catherine approached Iskra, who seemed to be chatting about the base. Catherine quite abruptly changes the subject, asking her "You were one of those Russians in Crimea, weren't you? Don't lie to me."

[Czeckolutania]

Henry Jackman
Groom Lake Barracks

Henry had just finished making his rack when he heard what sounded like the start of an argument. He looked to see one Bravo's eastern Europeans uncomfortably close to his Corporal. "Great, I love this multinational Camraderie." He said to himself. Henry threw his sea bag into his locker and clamped a combo lock on it. He'd unpack that later.

With a slightly annoyed sigh Henry walked past CPL Ivanova and SQD Voronova. As he passed he offered the proper greeting of the day to his NCO "Good afternoon Corporal." He then looked at Catherine and said "Respect the rank." Without further delay he left the barracks and made his way to the mess hall. Jackman got a tray of food and sat on his own with his back to a wall in the corner.

[G-Tech Corporation]

The fire-control officer noted the names of the others in his squad; he had read their files, but putting names with faces was far more effective than just knowing details. A motley crew, most with distinguished service records, with a few exceptions. Some of the people, mm. They didn't speak well to XCom's chances of success. But the dour Siberian had never had the luxury of a squad without a few bad apples, and he had come through alive regardless. The stakes were higher this time, but that didn't change the calculus.

In the Unit Bravo barracks, Petyor secured a bottom bunk farthest from the door, with good lines of sight to the entrance and the unit lavatories. It was more out of habit than conscious paranoia, but you could never be too careful. Stowing his duffel, the Russian muttered a brief prayer to Saint Vladimir before rising from his bed and padding back out in to the corridor to try and find the armory.

It was time to get acquainted with his new kit.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

Corporal Iskra Lishu Vasilyeva Ivanova - XCOM - Unit Alpha - Alpha 03

The abrupt interruption and blatantly offensive statement made Iskra turn her head to see who had said that. Iskra looked at her and then at her flag patch. Ukrainian? Oh, I guess that's why she angry at me for no reason. Iskra sighed and continued walking forward. "When my countrymen invaded your country, I was in Aleppo shooting at the Islamists and Assad's men. And I don't think I need to tell you what Russia's position is on the Syrian Civil War. To be honest, if they hadn't recommended me to the XCOM project, I would be a decaying corpse in some ditch and starring in a last-minute ISIL propaganda video with my beheading being shown on television." Iskra pulled down the collar of her fatigues which revealed a bandage around her neck.

When Iskra finally arrived in the barracks, she noticed Jackman's defense of her against the Ukrainian. Iskra continued walking inside and dropped off her things on her designated bunkbed. She began to open her duffel bag and then stopped. Should I unpack now or should I get a meal first? Meal first. She walked into the messhall and ordered some food. A piece of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, a cup of minestrone soup, and a glass of water.

After she took her food she glanced at the mess hall. Should I sit by myself or should I sit with my comrades? I think it would be best if I sat at an open table. Jackman looks like want to be by himself. She sat an table near the center of the messhall and began to eat her food.

[ApplePieistan]

Catherine Voronova

When Iskra left, Catherine walked off the other way, to the Unit Bravo sleeping quarters. On the way there, Catherine muttered to herself in Ukrainian, but stopping when she saw Petyor there, stowing away his duffle bag. Catherine herself threw her bag on a random bed, making a mental note to unpack it later. For a moment, she paused to think to herself "Should I try to be nice with Petyor, a person my life might depend on? That would be the rational thing to do." Catherine considered her options for a few seconds before thinking "Nah, fuck that."

Sassily placing a hand on her own hip, Catherine once again raised her voice, asking Petyor "Whatcha doin' here, Ruskie? Bar's that way."

[Vacif]

Sqd. Joe F. Kilroy
Bravo 6 | 'PARA'

Observing the spectacle from the sidelines Joe remained silent. It wasn't healthy for this kind of interaction within a group but he'd let them sort it out. The Ukrainian was a young one. She was infantry with probably the least combat experience out of all of them. He hadn't committed the profiles of his teammates to memory quite yet but the grievance between her and the Russians were obvious. Still this was quite immature and unprofessional. Here they were defending humanity against an extraterrestrial force and this one was borderline picking fights with people who'd be fighting alongside her in this defense. She had to of known this was a bad idea.

Unlike their heavy, he chose the bunk closest to the door. If something happened and they needed to get to the armory fast he could get their quickest. Also because if he ever came back to the barracks exhausted he could just collapse to his bed with the most minimal of efforts because of the distance from the door to his bed. He didn't have much to unpack, some clothes which were easily sorted away, and some personal affects that he threw in his personal foot locker. He wondered briefly whether or not to grab a bite or to get acquainted with his gear. He chose his gear over food. It'd be best if he adapted to his new time zone. He'd wait for dinner so that his body could get use to eating at that time and sleeping a little after that. Eating and sleeping as one normally would in a new time zone could be rather detrimental to the person.

Following 3's lead, he strode down the halls following the guiding arrows to the armory.

[Parcia]

Catherine Voronova

When Iskra left, Catherine walked off the other way, to the Unit Bravo sleeping quarters. On the way there, Catherine muttered to herself in Ukrainian, but stopping when she saw Petyor there, stowing away his duffle bag. Catherine herself threw her bag on a random bed, making a mental note to unpack it later. For a moment, she paused to think to herself "Should I try to be nice with Petyor, a person my life might depend on? That would be the rational thing to do." Catherine considered her options for a few seconds before thinking "Nah, fuck that."

Sassily placing a hand on her own hip, Catherine once again raised her voice, asking Petyor "Whatcha doin' here, Ruskie? Bar's that way."

Isabel Cruise

"And the door is that way, Ukrainian." Izzy had fallowed the rest of Bravo to their barracks, hemming and hawing silently, when not yawning, as the tour progressed. The strap from her rifle bag was biting in to her shoulder, her duffel felt heavy in her hand, and she was over all tired and grump. The marine paused while she offloaded her gear in to the foot locker before turning back to the Women.

"While I wont begin to say that I know what the grudge is, other then "He invaded my country" Which...is some what understandable, Let me just remind you of a few things." She paused again, hefting her rifle bag as she stepped closer to the Ukrainian. "1, the Ruskia is your corporal, as am I, and while I know we aren't officers, Rank is still a thing. 2. I get you have a grudge, like I said, some what understandable, but I think I speak for the rest of us when I say to leave that shit some 10 stories up on the tarmac, because weather you like it or not, we are in a unit now, and a unit works together, regardless of the personal shit between its soldiers."

"3. In case you haven't noticed, we are fighting fucking aliens, little green men with heat lasers and shit that want to quite possibly erase humanity from this planet and are actively trying to do so, and it would oh so do better for us Humans if those of us in this super secret Black ops unit, which seems to be the first and only real line of defense against said little green men, could function with out personal shit getting in the way."

"In summery, have your opinions and grudges if you want, but the moment we step out in to the field, that shit stays in the drop ship." She smiled, turned to the rest of bravo and spoke. "Isabel Cruise, Bravo teams Sniper, nice to meet you all, i'll be in the armory." She then turned towards the door to leave.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Ah, one of the squaddies. Petyor raised one bushy eyebrow at the woman's offer of a trip to the bar- he thought that was what she meant, her accent was a bit thick for his tastes- and barked out a short laugh. "The bar is wherever I am, dama." A short tap to his hip flash that was made of durable steel at his waist sent it sloshing with what was assuredly supposed to be a medicinal ration, but which had been 'liberated' from whatever previous role it had held with ease by the stolid Siberian. "I appreciate the offer, truly, but with the pall of death over this place romance should be the last thing on my mind, and yours."

She wasn't a bad looking woman, all things considered. Her dossier had made her out to be one of those Right Sector lunatics, but she didn't seem such a bad sort. At any rate, bar or no bar, there was work to be done. Politely nodding his way past the fetching little creature, Petyor lumbered down to the armory, showing his passcard to the attendant on duty there and retrieving the new LMG XCOM had issued him. It was light in his hands compared to his old love, the Pecheneg he had been using for a decade and more. But that made sense- from all accounts of the ET encounters the sergeant had read, the ETs relied on mobility for survival and packed a lot of firepower, not a lot of armor. A heavier weapon would have just made a soldier less maneuverable, and the armaments on display by their opponents needed either deep cover or a good position to survive. It would be easier to carry all the ammunition the fast-roping squads would need without such a weighty weapon, at least.

As Petyor hauled the weapon over to the firing range, donning reactive earpieces, the door to the armory opened. The Russian noted with approval that another member bearing his squad's patches had seen fit to try out their weapons before the first deployment. His face told him to be... ah, the American. Normally Petyor didn't have any great use for their ilk, but a soldier hard enough to get called up for this unit was probably at least a cut above the toy soldiers that the United States normally put in the field.

"Killroy! Good to see another man checking out the kit." Petyor gestured with a beefy hand towards the LMG, which his other arm supported without any apparent strain. "This mother is lighter than I am used to, it is a good sign. Plenty of extra weight to haul home alien tech for the engineers to dissect, ha. And all the bullets I will be needing for all the little weird creatures I am going to shoot, yes?"

The Russian waved for the other man to join him in a friendly way, then humped the firing tripod up to the top of the shooting range's stabilization counter. With a precursory glance down the sights Petyor began hammering away at a series of targets, short bursts to maintain measured ammunition consuming as the breakaway belt whirred off of his hips. It was a good feel, the kick of the weapon against his shoulder, and a good smell, gunsmoke mixed with oil and metal.

[Ubaria]

Cpl Celso 'Razzo' Salvagni
Groom Lake, USA - XCOM High Command

It all felt a bit surreal, so it could be forgiven that Celso wasn't as rigidly composed as he usually was, his deep brows irises although hidden behind tired eyelids, flickered curiously about his surroundings whilst his senses still tried to conceive it all. At the same time he was also unconsciously sizing up his fellow soldiers whom he had arrived with, a trait picked up with his years of military service and working with so many different faces, it helped to know who would prove useful and those who might become a problem later on, although it was difficult to tell so soon, nobody had really said a word or done anything other than stare at the floor of the aircraft in a sullen silence.

People soon perked up when the sound of the VTOL's landing gears hissing filled the cabin, followed by the physical weighty lurch as the Skyranger finally set down, the door hinging open soon after to flood the hold with a stark white light that was quick to wake up those who had dazed into near slumber. A booming voice followed from an indistinguishable figure which was drowned out by the bright lamps, yet soon the man became visible when Celso's eyed adjusted to the norm. He was scarred and quite noticeably so, burn marks and shrapnel wounds adorned half of his face giving it a rock like texture, he seemed apathetic to the collection of men and women presented before him. Out of the corner of his eye, Celso couldn't help but notice a convoy of body shaped boxes being carted into the back of another Skyranger, it didn't make for good first impressions.

"I am Lieutenant Wolfram Herrman, Welcome to Groom Lake, the headquarters of the UN's Extra-Terrestrial Combat Unit, otherwise known as XCOM. From here on out your activity's will be monitored 24/7, every doorway you pass through will perform a deep scan of your nervous system to make sure you aren't an alien infiltrator, and as you can see, Casualty rate is high. Batch 1 made it through 4 engagements. 2 made it through 6. And 3 didn't even make it through one before boarding that Skyranger for home. You're Batch 4, I estimate similar results. Please prove me wrong."

Harsh words yet direct and concise, almost clinical, it seemed they were more fodder for the cannon that was aimed at thwarting alien conquest. It wasn't long before Herrman left and the reigns were taken over by another. A rather butch polish woman with a more than conspicuous hairstyle, she was disinterested in spending much more time talking to the new recruits.

"There's no point. Arrows on the walls will point you towards the Mess Hall and Barracks, rarely will you be called to the CIC, regular station of Central, John Bradford, and Commander Whitman. Engineering is largely off limits to us grunts, as is the Research Bay. SO, just stay in the Barrack, Med Bay, and Mess if you don't want to be reprimanded... Dismissed."

A few seconds of mindlessly standing around and Celso decided to follow the crowd and head deeper into the facility. Several spoke for the first time.

"Corporal Salvagni. 9th Parachute Regiment, 130th Incursori, Italian Army. You can call me Celso." He introduced himself alongside the others, though each of them seemed to have their own direction and peeled off towards separate parts of the facility. Celso had his eye on some food however, it had been several hours since a meal that hadn't been in liquid form and his stomach was offended, there had to be something on offer that was to his tastes, living for several months off pre-packed MRE's, it was nice to have a choice every once in a while, the marinated chicken and mixed vegetables in rice seemed like the most obvious choice, Celso grabbed a serving along with a glass of milk and placed himself on a table, more specifically the table with the Russian on it, Iskra if he had heard correctly. With a perhaps little too much overbearing smile, Celso placed himself opposite her and made himself comfortable in his seat.

"Iskra is it not? I'm Celso." The Italian began, his accent shining through even in his English.

[Anowa]

Lt. Wolfram Herrman, Alpha 1
Sgt. Valeska Kowalski, Bravo 1
Mission 01: Friends in Low Places
March 23rd, 2017. 0038 Local Time // Groom Lake Complex, XCOM HQ

After the whole lot of new recruits got acclimatized with their new digs, lights out was declared at 2130. Every soldier needed to be rested for an emergency, and while it was perfectly understandable, napping during the day was a good way to get caught with your figurative pants down.

The three note tone of the scramble alarm was not one that Herrman would ever forget, not after all the nightmares and trauma it lead to. And especially not when it was currently going off.

It wasn't hard to wake up to such a godawful sound knowing what it was, but the others likely hadn't acclimatized, "Alpha, Bravo, get the fuck up! Get your shit and grab your gear from the armory, fucking MOVE! You have three fucking minutes to get to the hangar or we leave your ass here!" That said, Wolfram himself started donning his basic garb, plate carrier, helmet, BDU, boots, and respirator. A big old metal gas mask that sealed around the neck. Had an emergency protocol to shunt a tube into one's neck to feed oxygen to the lungs directly if something happened to the user's windpipe. The German born man had felt that feeling once, and the impromptu tracheotomy wasn't something he wanted to experience again.

Next was the armory, as he walked out of the male barracks, he could hear Kowalski's voice echoing down the hall from the women's barracks in a similar fashion to his. Followed by her own form coming out of her own gender's barracks. She was garbed much the same, though instead of a respirator her face was covered by a balaclava. As the duo of tier one soldiers hauled ass to the armory, the boots of the rest of their respective teams echoed down the hall behind them.

As Wolfram walked into the armory, he spotted their Nigerian Armorer standing in the corner, well out of the way of the soldiers scrambling for their respective weapons and equipment. Wolfram simply grabbed his rifle and clipped slung it's single point sling around himself, before clipping said sling to his form. His sawed off in turn was slid into a horizontal holster just above his tailbone. Nano-fiber vest was on him since he woke up. He was set. And the hangar was less than 40 meters away. They had less than a minute at that point before the Skyranger couldn't make the mission window.

When this war first started, the alarm was only used for drills and the like, but it was swiftly realized that dragging your ass when responding to a UFO landing or crash site would get you nothing but a bloody ambush. So after all the engagements they started timing it. And three minutes was the absolute minimum for the window of opportunity, and if you treated everything like that you definitely wouldn't miss something with a bigger window.

As Wolfram and Kowalski simultaneously walked up the Skyranger's ramps, he could hear Libson frantically flipping switches in the cockpit, all the while engines on the massive VTOL started spooling up and throwing dust about the hangar. Thirty seconds. With the rest of Alpha and Bravo boarding with surprising swiftness, Wolfram turned to the cockpit as he took his own seat, "All aboard!"

The squad's built in helmet radios were suddenly overtaken by that of the pilot's deep voice, <<Copy that Alpha 1.>> a pause <<Central, this is Big Sky. Ground team is aboard and we are wheels up.>>

The significantly lighter voice filled comms next, as central made his voice known, <<Copy that Big Sky, Briefing will piped to you, ETA four minutes. Good Hunting.>>

Wolfram settled his head against the seat's headrest as the gee forces of the Skyranger booting itself up to speed swayed his head to the side a bit. And as they reached mach seven the sway to his head disappeared. Just in time for the briefing to show up near the ramp in holographic form.

<<This is Central to ground team. Listen attentively because this is an operation the council contacted us directly for.>>

Kowalski sighed, "Kurwa." Wolfram silently agreed, whenever the Council asks for something directly, it usually means people would die, and he really didn't feel like losing anyone today.

<<You'll be deploying to the Aberdeen Cemetary on Hong Kong Island. Apparently a high-ranking Triad enforcer based out of the area claims to have gotten his hands on a piece of alien hardware. We'll need to rendezvous at his location, and, assuming he's legit, provide a secure escort out of the area. If the contact's device is genuine, as we suspect it is, it'll be of high value. Stay sharp, as the aliens may make an effort to recover it, along with his former employers, and possibly even PRC army forces. The Objectives are simple, escort Mister Zhang from the RV point to the Skyranger alive. Central Out.>>

Wolfram paused after the briefing, "China. Motherfucker... Alright everyone, ETA should be aroung an hour and a half, give or take ten minutes, talk, have a power nap, or whatever you want, but be ready to walk off that ramp and kill some fucking ETs before we land."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Petyor leaned casually in his harness, big hands cradling his LMG towards the floor, body festooned in ammunition belts. He had been awake when the alarms went off, a nasty habit of a lifetime of constant vigilance, snatching sleep where he could. The third bravo man on the Skyranger, he frowned at hearing the briefing.

His rumbling voice cut through the drone of the engines.

"Sergeant, you mentioned PRC forces. Are we to expect hostility from the Chinese? What are our rules of engagement?"

The Russian worriedly slapped some of the composite plates in his chest, an old habit to reassure himself they were there. He had packed for alien targets, Reaper rounds to burn through xenos, dissipative heat-sink armor for the plasma. Getting chewed up with armor-piercing rounds from ballistics instead of the exotic gear the aliens packed was not his idea of a good time.

[Czeckolutania]

Henry was deep in slumber when the alarm sounded. He got to his feet as quickly as his half asleep body would allow him to. "Damn, I was having the best dream just now." He called out over the alarm. Moments later he heard The LT's voice. Henry had already starting dressing, and was in his uniform only a few moments after hearing Wolfram.

Henry took a full stride away from his rack. Suddenly he pivoted 180 degrees and quickly opened his locker. After grabbing one peice of additional gear he hastily slamed the locker closed and relocked the combo lock. The entire maneuver cost his only a handful of seconds, but in his mind it was sloppy. "rifle before the rider" he audibly reminded himself.

Because of his brief delay Henry was among the last up the ramp. "Way to make Chesty proud." He thought to himself. Henry sat in silence through the briefing once it was over he pulled out the gear retrieved from his locker, a collimator. He raised his rifle to upward angle to the rear of the aircraft, paying special attention to muzzle awareness as he did so. He then slid the collimator into his barrel and began making slight adjustments to his optic.

Within a few minutes Henry was saftisfied. He withdrew the collimator from his rifle and offered it to the group. "Anybody else neglect to hit the armory earlier and wanna check zero? Mine was off by a minute and a half."

[Sweillia]

Squaddie Callum Boyce
Bravo 5

The alarm blared so loudly that when he snapped out of his sleep he was almost deafened. He was somewhat confused for a couple of seconds, before he remembered where he was. Callum sat up on his bed and reached into his duffel. He rummaged around through multiple sets of clothes and pulled out his night vision goggles. These were given to him on his first assignment when he joined the SRR. They were specially modified so that they could switch between night vision and thermal imaging. There were a couple of scratches on the body of the goggles. Looking at the goggles brought him back to that damned Super Lynx. "Approaching DZ, ETA two minutes," he recalled the pilot saying. He didn't remember doing it, but he was marching down the corridor towards the armoury, night vision goggles in hand.

Inside the armoury, there was quite a lot of weaponry on the tables, but there was even more firepower mounted on the back wall. Callum walked over the section designated for his equipment and examined what he was given. The submachine gun was clearly based on the UMP45. He never seen one in real life, but he had seen multiple images of the gun before but that was quite a while back and he couldn't really tell which parts of the gun were the modifications, and which were from the original gun. Next, he picked up the goggles provided by XCOM and compared them to his own, but he set the XCOM goggles back on the table and put his own around his head. Finally he grabbed the pistol. He couldn't exactly tell what the pistol was based on, but after a second of feeling its weight in his hand, it morphed into the familiar P226, and he was back in that damned bird. After a couple of more seconds of getting to know the handgun he stood up from the bench at the back of the chopper and walked over to door. He grasped the handle and pulled it aside. Outside, it was raining, and it was still so dark that he couldn't see the ground. "Approaching DZ, ETA one minute"

The runway was just as dark, but fortunately it wasn't raining. It was oddly quite outside. The alarm had stopped blaring but the alarm lights were still on, giving the complex's walls a strange red colour. The rhythmic sound made by all the soldiers marching was pretty much the only sound to be heard. The Skyranger that brought them here stood before them, and ramp that they had stepped off hours earlier was open ready to swallow them. As he passed the place where Herrman gave them a speech and where Kowalski gave them the tour of the complex, the Lieutenant's voice echoed inside his head, Casualty rate is high. Batch 1 made it through 4 engagements. 2 made it through 6. And 3 didn't even make it through one.,, I estimate similar results. Please prove me wrong. That's exactly what Callum was planning to do. When he walked up the ramp, he sat down at the very back of Skyranger, as far away from the ramp as possible, the Lynx's pilot spoke to him, "Approaching DZ, ETA 30 seconds,"

The dark abyss was waiting for him.

[ApplePieistan]

Catherine Voronova

Catherine sat in the skyranger with the rest of the gang, waiting to start fighting. While some of the others looked rather angry and serious, Catherine crossed her arms and cracked a slight smile, saying to the room "I say we knock this guy out and carry him back to base, let Vahlen interrogate him if we need to." Catherine looks side to side, checking to see everyone else's reaction. "With all the gunfire and shouting, giving specific instructions to some guy who probably only speaks Chinese will be impossible. Plus, it'll give us an opportunity to search him for the hardware, make sure he's telling the truth."

While everyone else continued to converse, Catherine took out her combat stims, keeping her rifle holstered for now. It was no secret that stims boosted combat performance, aside from feeling amazing. She knew she would inject it before fighting, maybe even before stepping off the skyranger. After all, no one here is expected to live long, so you might as well.