Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I could tell you how I died a glorious death.

How I died, a martyr to a great battle. A hundred, no! A thousand bodies slain at my feet. How, even as I bled from a thousand cuts, I slashed the traitor king's baleful eyes from his head. How it took the strength of ten thousand to best me, my sacrifice alone ensuring overwhelming victory for my forces.

But that would be a lie, incredibly corny, and also stolen from a dnd game I only half remembered. No, I died in quite possibly the most embarrassing way in the history of humanity. I choked to death in my apartment on half a soggy McDonalds chicken wing.

"Seriously? That's how you die? I look away for a few minutes to check on a project and you die, to a piece of dead bird!?" A voice boomed in my head, startling me out of my trance.

"Wha- huh!?" I spat, startled and indignant. My head was foggy, and I couldn't quite make out my surroundings.

"You have to be the SINGLE most unfortunate mortal I have ever seen, and I have— had the supposed honor of monitoring you! You managed to bore me enough to look away after 24 whole years, and the moment I do you fucking die. To a chicken nugget!" The voice ranted on, ignoring my confusion.

"Where am I, who are you?"

Then it hit me.

"What do you mean I'm dead!?"

Hysteria flooded my voice and brain, my mind already drowning in confusion.

But the voice didn't care about that. "I'm going to get fucking fired, and it's your fault!" I could almost sense the accusing finger pointing at me.

"Goddamn brown nose suckups and their so called 'critical research'. You'd think monitoring some supposedly important subject would grant me a bit of leeway. But noooo!"

"No. Wait. That's it! All I have to do is turn you into own little experiment!" I really didn't like the sound of that.

"What!? No, I don't want to be anyone's experiment!"

However, my objections were ignored.

"Too bad. You died, now I have to clean up your mess so deal with it. I'm not getting fired because an idiot mortal choked to death on a wet chicken piece, and this way I can slack off and just say I took initiative and was monitoring my experiment! It's brilliant!"

Embarrassment, then anger, at this voice's callousness and sloth. "Don't you dare you lazy sonofa—"

"Now, what to do, what to do..." The voice ignored my threats and insults. "Hmm, how about that one steam game you bought last week?."

"What?" The absurd statement threw me for a loop as my brain tried to process what context could that sentence make sense.

"Yeah, the one where you played two campaigns in five days. How the actual fuck did you pass your MCAT?"

His words stabbed me like a bayonet. I know I had no life, but it wasn't THAT bad, right?

"Perfect. Goodbye, and thanks for being a somewhat convenient excuse. Now, fuck off and do whatever you mortals do when you get isekaied. You won't remember any of this anyway."

"You sorry excuse for a god, I'll—"

I never got to finish my sentence. In fact, I didn't even know what I would do, but it felt good to insult the ROB bastard who was treating me like a plaything.

But he was far out of reach.

And then I was waking up.

Red. Everything was red. I could barely see or move, and was completely encased in what looked and felt like a red gel.

Now, at the time, I didn't remember what happened. But, I was trapped.

Let me tell you something. Claustrophobia sucks.

Anyways, as I struggled as much as possible, I heard muffled noises outside whatever room? Pod? I was in. So I tried to bang on the walls.

And that's when I noticed the claws. And the scales. There's a lot of ways someone would react to suddenly having their body changed without consent.

Me? I screamed, or tried to, until in my idiot panic I lost my rebreather and almost died. To choking. Again.

Immediately gulping down much needed air from the rebreather thing that was attached to my mouth once again, I tried to rationalize.

I was in an inhuman body, which was in some tube full of gross red gel. Now, if I knew my sci-fi tropes, this body was either a clone or a captive of some sort. Now, if only I had a blasted mirror, or something to figure out what I was.

There were also noises outside the tube, which I didn't know the source of. Machinery? A rescue? Workers? The sound was indistinct through the gel, and while I hoped it was the second option, I should prepare for the worst. Not that I could really do anything, but the sentiment was there.

Still, I banged on the wall in front of me. Well... as much as I could through the gel anyways.

Two panels shifted in front of me. The tube apparently had an inner layer of glass, which I could now see through. Three people outside seemed frozen, though I couldn't make out their expressions. I also froze, midway through banging on the door again.

All of them were wearing what I assumed to be tactical gear. A rescue? I smacked against the glass again, apparently startling them. I noticed one flinch, and who I assumed to be the squad leader reached for a radio.

The ever present gel muffled the voices, but I got a feeling of confusion and franticness from the tone and motions of the leader. One of the others pointed at the glass before saying something.

I tried to indicate the button labeled "Release" I spotted by the door though frantic gesturing. But the two in front of me just seemed confused.

I facepalmed. They looked fascinated. 

My face felt weird. Scaled, and elongated. Did I have a fucking snout!?

The squad leader... Looked like whatever conversation he was having escalated into a full blown argument.

As I was focusing on the squad leader, a purple rift formed in the middle of the room. Something told me that was dangerous. 

I banged on the glass hard. Cracks began to form. The two in front of me, who must have been rookies, flinched back. The sound got the squad leaders attention, who saw the purple rift. 

The man paled. Then barked orders to the two rookies, who took up positions behind consoles.

Quickly, the squad leader began to take up a similar position.

But then, something happened that I would never forget. Not for the rest of my days.

The rift burst. A glowing yellow figure stood in the epicenter of the explosion.

I was shocked for a moment. Before a realization hit. That was a Codex. I was in XCOM 2. Specifically, the tutorial mission with a few key differences.

First, I was pretty sure none of those 3 operatives were Bradford. And more operatives survived than in the normal tutorial, so I assume he was running things from the Avenger.

Second, I was in the pod where the commander normally was.

Third, the Codex that appeared after the commander is freed appeared early this time.

Oh right. And I'm pretty sure I'm a Viper.

Future body dysmorphia problems aside, more importantly these three poor XCOM operatives were about to be torn apart by a Codex, and I could only watch.

To his credit, the squad leader didn't even hesitate. He opened fire on the Codex immediately, prompting the two rookies to do the same.

Repeatedly, I slammed my fist on the cracks that were forming. They were spreading, but not quick enough. I couldn't do anything.

The Codex dodged out of the way of the first shots from the commander. But I let out a small cheer internally, as one of the rookies shots hit home.

Then the Codex split. And it all went to hell in a hand basket. The clone let out a psionic lance of power at the second rookie, and with no time to react, they slumped, bleeding from their eyes and nose. The original Codex finished it with a gut shot from a plasma rifle.

The first rookie panicked. He charged the clone in a fit of desperate rage, and was tossed against the wall.

In a matter of seconds, the squad leader was the only agent left standing. He opened fire on the first Codex, and scored a lucky hit. A piece of the Codex brain snapped off, instantly neutralizing it.

He was not so lucky with the clone. It unleashed another lance of psionic power, and the squad leader stumbled. 

The Codex charged forward and I watched in horror as it gored him with the plasma rifle's bayonet. The man grabbed at the bayonet, before switching targets. 

He pulled a grenade from his belt. And yanked the pin. The Codex tried to disengage, but he grabbed it with weakening fingers.

I hit the glass, one final time. The glass shattered and the man turned to me. I still wonder if there was something I could have done. But... I think he made his choice.

The sight would be burned into my mind forever. The man had a fierce expression. But that didn't do it justice. There was a fire in his eyes and an almost fanatical air about them.

He mouthed his final words. "Vigilo... Confido!"

The grenade cooked off as the Codex struggled. The blast was deafening.

As soon as my ears (Or... whatever substitutes for them.) stopped ringing, I looked around the room. There was no trace of the man. Only a splatter of blood and ashes.

But there wasn't a codex brain either.

It rose. The thing that killed three people without remorse, the thing that that man died to try and take down, I didn't know them, but I knew what XCOM stood for. I couldn't let their sacrifices be in vain.

It walked towards me, saying something in the ADVENT language. It was unsuspecting of any threat. We were on the 'same side' after all.

So I lunged. It reacted quickly, but I already had it pinned. I tried to dig my claws into the eyes, but the lens was too tough. So I bit the Codex. I'm not thankful for being turned into what I am, but in that moment I appreciated the bite force, if nothing else.

Side note, blegh. Tastes like static electricity.

The Codex slumped. Just to make sure, I grabbed the dead rookie's pistol, and shot the Codex brain twice.

Speaking of, the squad leader and the second rookie were definitely dead. But I had to check on the first.

I walked. Slithered. Whatever. Over to the rookie who was slumped over a console. Pressing my hand against his neck, I felt a pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

A beeping caught my attention. One of their radios was on the ground.

I lifted it up. A voice spoke from it.

"Gatecrasher. Gatecrasher respond! Advent forces are coming in hot, you need to get to extract!"

Yep, that was definitely Bradford.

I tried to think of a response that wouldn't cause him to worry, but figured that was a fruitless endeavor.

"Hello?" My voice sounded odd. And rough with disuse.

"Who is this? What are you doing on our comms?"

Unexpectedly, I paused. I hadn't really thought about that. It felt weird to use my old human name. Maybe I'll take take the name of one of my custom soldiers?

Would be a bit strange if I ran into him.

"I... My name is Oskar. I'm a civilian I guess. Are you XCOM?"

Bradford was silent for a moment.

"I noticed the patches, if that helps."

Goddamnit, now was NOT the time to be awkward!

Bradford sighed.

"Yes. We're XCOM. What happened to our team?"

"Codex. I took it out. There's one survivor but he's unconscious."

"... Goddamnit." Another sigh was heard from the other end.

He paused again. "Wait. You took it out?"

"Yeah."

"You're a civvie?"

"Kind of? Not sure what I'd be considered."

"...I can already feel the beginning of a migraine."

He sighed, again. Offhandedly, I wondered if I could turn this into a drinking game. Take a shot every time Bradford sighs.

"Alright. I'm going to be straight with you. I don't know who you are, and I'm leery on trusting a voice that I can't put a face to, but you're the best option here. Can I count on your help to extract the survivor?"

"I'll... Do my best."

"Alright. I was getting confusing messages from the squad leader earlier. Do you have eyes on a pod with an Advent label? Who's supposed to be inside is quite important to us."

I debated internally on what to say.

"More bad news on that front."

"Great. This day just keeps getting better. I have bad news for you as well, ADVENT forces are outside the building. You're going to need another exit. Do you know how to use a grenade?"

"Think so..."

"Take the survivor's grenade."

I pulled the rookie's grenade off his vest.

"Alright."

"Now, toss it at the back wall."

I pulled the pin and tossed it towards the wall, hiding myself and the unconscious rookie behind a console.

The grenade clinked against the ground, before going off. It was a bit fascinating honestly, I didn't really have a picture of how powerful grenades were in my reality, but seeing the XCOM ones punch a hole through what must have been two feet of concrete and metal certainly left an impression.

Kind of left me wondering why they only did three damage ingame.

Central spoke up over the radio again.

"Firebrand is waiting outside for Evac. ADVENT is seconds from breaching the door, you need to get out of there."

I moved towards the hole before the realization hit. I'm a Viper. This is not going to end well.

"There's something I kind of forgot to inform you about. Please don't shoot me."

I darted through the hole in the wall before I could hear his response. A rope was already waiting, which I latched onto.

Chapter Text

"Fuck!" 

I heard Firebrand shout as soon as I got aboard.

A bullet whizzed past me. The copilot, out of his seat, was aiming his pistol at me. And I could see right down the barrel. A radio somewhere was blaring a muffled highway to hell, which totally didn't fit the situation.

Hastily dropping the rookie onto one of the seats, I threw my hands up.

"Don't shoot! I'm sorry! I forgot to mention that part."

Internally, I was in full on panic mode. 

The copilot lowered their pistol and gave me a baffled look.

"Seriously? Our mysterious civvie is a Viper!?"

I drooped.

"If it helps, this is why I said I wasn't sure?"

Bradford's voice yelled at us through the radio. 

"You have interceptors, fast approaching! Figure out whatever's going on after, get out of there first!"

Firebrand seemed remarkably calm for the circumstances. Gunshots pinged off the armor of the Skyranger, as if to accentuate the point.

"Alright, we're leaving. But you, Oskar, right? Explain. Now." 

Shit. Uhhhh.

"I don't know!? I just woke up like this."

Bad plan BAD PLAN.

"Wait, you're saying you weren't, y'know, a snake before?" The copilot chimed in.

"Yes?"

They believe me? I literally have no way to defend my story.

"Well shit, if ADVENT is turning people into vipers, that's going to be a hell of a headache for Central in the future— Did you seriously think I'd buy that!?"

Firebrand yelled.

The copilot took the cue and pointed the gun at me again. 

I froze.

"WOAH! Listen, ok, I don't know what to tell you. I woke up in a pod, and my body was all wrong! The last thing I remember before that is..."

Oh. There's that fuzzy memory.

"Is what!?"

"Uh. Shit. I think I died dude."

"What."

"Yeah, the last thing I remember before waking up is choking to death on a chicken nugget."

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that ensued.

The copilot holstered his pistol.

"Somehow, I believe you. If you weren't human, you wouldn't have any idea what a chicken nugget was." Firebrand wondered.

"Seriously? That's what made you believe me?"

"Hey, chicken nuggets are a quintessential human experience. At least they were." She said somberly.

"God, I haven't had chicken nuggets in like, 23 years." The copilot muttered wistfully.

Everyone paused as a coughing sound came from the corner.

"He's awake." I offered.

"No shit, Sherlock." Firebrand replied. "Get that guy some water. Actually, maybe that should wait. No offense, but if I were him, I wouldn't particularly want to wake up to your ugly mug."

"That's... fair. I'd take offense from that if I wasn't currently a giant alien snake thing."

"You're certainly not an everyday sight, that's for sure." The copilot chimed in.

"What happened? My head..." A groggy voice came from the rear of the vehicle.

"Hey buddy. Long story short, the mission went to shit, and you're the only survivor. We also picked up a civvie I guess."

There was silence for a moment.

"Seriously? That's... Shit."

"No kidding." The copilot muttered.

"Yeah, the civvie's a goddamned viper too."

I stared blankly as Firebrand dropped that bombshell on the poor dude.

"Oh, that viper?" He replied, nonchalant.

Why the hell is everyone so calm!?

Internally, my sympathetic nervous system is attempting to breakdance.

"Are you alright? You seem... Calmer than reasonable." I pipe up. Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, I digress.

The man jumped a little, before relaxing.

"Oh, I didn't see you there."

He adopted a mock-thoughtful pose.

"Well, it's probably the shock, so I'm waiting for it to kick in then I'll probably start screaming." 

He chuckled.

The rookie got up, and grabbed a water bottle off a shelf.

My eyes traced the medical cupboard, finally noticing the thing. The contents were rather sad honestly. Some makeshift bandages, and mysterious bottles marked with a red cross. My mind went off on a tangent. Is it still a Geneva violation in the event of an alien invasion?

In a far more serious tone, the rookie continued.

"I think... I'm gonna miss them. It hasn't really set in yet. But. I feel a bit lost."

"We'll get time to mourn when the war's over. Till then, we make sure every moment matters, and every life means something." Firebrand spoke up in a similarly somber tone.

A click was heard, as she fiddled with the radio.

"We'll be landing soon, so you'd best prepare for some questions, and possibly imprisonment, Oskar. I'll just radio ahead real quick."

Looks like I'm shit out of luck after all.

"Haha... Looking forward to it."

"That's the spirit! If you make it, you'll be giving Bradford headaches in no time. Besides, you're interesting, so I'll throw in a good word for you."

"Thanks I guess..." I deflated.

"Try to sound more grateful eh!?"

I didn't know it at the time, but Firebrand's word counted for a lot around here.

She flicked a switch, and began speaking into her headset. I tuned it out, trying to take stock of my situation.

I am likely going to be interviewed/interrogated by a military leader who has basically lead a rebellion against an Alien occupation for close to two decades.

Which, as a reminder, I currently appear exactly like a soldier of said empire.

My life very much depends on the answers I give. I don't look forward to dying again. A bullet would probably be a great deal more painful.

Eventually, the lights on the roof of the transport lit up green.

I helped the rookie to his feet.

The ramp opened to four armed guards at the bottom.

The... captain, I suppose, directed one of the guards over to me, who took the rookie off my hands. 

"So..." I began awkwardly.

"Commander wants to see you." The words were short and clipped. He gestured for me to follow him.

I followed, hesitant. We walked through the entrance to the Avenger. People around us stopped what they were doing to stare. I could feel hostile glares on my back as I moved.

The mess hall was... Empty . I thought that maybe it just wasn't mealtime, but there were people getting served. Mostly civilians or technicians. The few soldiers that were there paid little attention to my presence besides a few scoffs or glares sent my way. 

It's an interesting feeling, being hated by everyone in the room for a situation out of your control.

The corridors of the avenger were certainly an interesting place. The architecture felt cold and alien but somehow, the atmosphere was undeniably human. I guess it made sense, since it represented the last hopes of humanity.

We passed through the trophy room. Staring up at a taxidermy that could be you in a few hours is unsettling to say the least.

Finally, we stopped in front of the commander's quarters, at least I assumed they were, as it wasn't the same room as in-game. 

Lost in my thoughts, and not noticing we stopped, I bumped into one of the guards.

"Sorry."

The guard didn't reply, and I looked away awkwardly.

The door opened, Bradford acknowledged us, and one of the guards moved to take up a post outside.

"So. You're our mysterious civvie."

Bradford was definitely not someone on my list of people to mess with. But, I have hopes he'd understand my situation, since he's a decent person. Plus, he cooperated with the skirmishers, if that counted as precedence?

"Yep."

The quarters were mostly empty, minus a few boxes. I don't remember something like this in-game, but it made sense that there were more rooms than we could access.

Bradford looked at the window, then turned to face me.

"I'm going to be straight with you, this interrogation is mostly a formality. You went out of your way to save that rookie, and I trust Firebrand's judgement. But if you could provide a more complete story..."

I'm not completely sure if I want to play all my cards yet, so I think I'm going to avoid mentioning my knowledge of XCOM.

"I understand. I don't really know what to tell you, beyond I lived a pretty darn boring life. To recap, the last thing I remember is choking to death on a chicken nugget-"

I heard one of the guards snort, then saw them shake their head.

"As I was saying, I remember choking to death. I was a med student, celebrating passing my MCAT. I was intending to become a cardiologist, but death via chicken nugget tends to put a stop to that."

Bradford looked tired.

"Alright, so completely civilian?"

"Pretty much. Only experience with combat is video games... And that codex."

"I'm just gonna need one last thing from you then. How did you know about XCOM?"

Oh. shit.

Chapter Text

Bradford fixed me with a disappointed glare. I had fallen right into his trap. Checkmate, game over.

The room felt like it was tilted on its axis. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I came from what was probably an alternate reality where everything that happened was part of a video game?

I'd be shot for sure.

But how could I come up with a believable lie? Civilians weren't supposed to know about XCOM before the invasion, and learning about it after wouldn't make any sense, since I had died in a way that wasn't possible, post invasion.

"I don't believe you're an infiltrator. They would have tried harder than this, and have previously done so. Like I told you, I don't think you're working for ADVENT at all. However, your story just doesn't line up quite right."

I stayed silent, still unsure what to say.

He continued.

"XCOM hasn't survived as long as it has by giving just anyone the benefit of the doubt. Despite what my gut tells me, I can't just let you go on feelings alone."

Guess it's time to spill the beans after all.

Shame, would have been nice to keep a few cards to play.

"You'll think I'm crazy. Well. Crazier than this situation already is."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I think I'm from an alternate reality."

One of the guards moved to grab my shoulder, but Bradford waved them away.

"I died on February 12th, 2025. A week earlier, I bought a video game off steam, titled XCOM 2."

"Go on."

"The game was a sequel to an earlier video game by the name of XCOM Enemy Unknown. Both of these games featured the titular organization, XCOM, headed by a mysterious commander, who is controlled by the player." 

My mind was in full on panic mode, basically rattling off information from the wiki, at least from what I remember.

"So, you expect me to believe that you come from an alternate reality in which this one, is a series of video games?"

"I can prove it. I know things. Things only the commander should know."

Bradford looked thoughtful. Seeing him about to gesture for the guards again, I spoke up in one last desperate attempt to convince him.

"I know about EXALT. I know Moria Valhen, and Raymond Shen. I know you, John Bradford. And ADVENT doesn't. They only have a codename. 'Central', right?"

He froze.

"John Bradford, born November 17, 1979. You grew up in Manhattan, Kansas. Served as military intelligence from 1999 to February 14, 2015, when you joined the original XCOM project."

"Raymond Shen, born—"

His hand whipped up, gesturing for me to stop.

"Okay, you've made your point. You can stop. You didn't have to lay out a whole dossier like that."

I heard him mutter.

"Thank God this room is soundproof."

"You're right. You have information that wouldn't be possible if your story was fake. But the fact that it's real is a whole new can of worms." He looked exasperated.

I decide to play into it a bit.

"Well, do you want to know your future, Bradford?"

He didn't even consider it for a second. Shot it down instantly.

"Honestly, not particularly. The butterfly effect is probably already bad enough without it."

He sighed, again. How many shots is that now?

The guard outside opened the door.

"Sir, Engineer Shen wants to see you!"

"Tell her I'm busy, I'll meet her in engineering later."

The guard left, just as quickly as he entered.

Bradford turned back to me.

"Now, what the heck am I going to do with you?"

I'm not sure if I could give him a good answer yet.

Just had to buy a little time to think, and maybe another miracle will interrupt.

"Off topic, but what day is it?"

He goes to answer, then pauses. "Funny thing, that."

"What?"

"It's February 12th. 2035."

"Huh. Funny indeed."

Isn't that ironic?

Still, I have about a month. Actually, closer to half of one. Until the commander's rescue. 

Then maybe...

"Bradford. Have the Reapers contacted you yet?"

He did a double take before sighing again. 

"Guess I'm going to have to get used to you just... Knowing things."

Looks like my gamble paid off.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"No. You can't possibly be saying that—."

A light lit up on a TV screen. Bradford looked at it. Then looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. "Goddamnit."

He motioned to the guards.

"I need to take this call, take him out for a bit."

The guards escorted me out of the room, looking various shades of uncomfortable.

There was a moment of silence, broken by one of the guards speaking up. "Hey, if you really know the future, what's that call about?"

"Sal! You know that's between Central and whoever's calling him!" Another interjected.

"It's the Reapers! Just like—, Oskar, right?"

I nodded, surprised they were willing to use my name.

"Just like Oskar said!"

"You don't know that, it could be the goddamn Templars for all we know!"

"It's probably the Reapers."

"Not you too, Hank!"

"Do you actually want to know what the call's about?" I spoke up.

Two conflicting answers of "Yes!" "No!"

"Okay... Let's put it to a vote." I suggested "All in favor?"

Three hands raised.

"Ugh, all of you!"

"C'mon, live a little, Linda!" Said the fourth guard, whose name has yet to be spoken.

Linda muttered angrily, but offered no further objections.

I thought for a moment. Should I really be sharing this sensitive information? But if Bradford had selected these people for a high profile interrogation like mine, they are probably trustworthy.

"Alright, looks like it's decided. If I'm right, this call is about the Commander."

A silence ensued, broken by exclamations of shock or disbelief.

"No. Fecking. Way."

"THE Commander!?"

"Like, The actual commander of XCOM?"

"Yup. Basically, from what I know, Bradford contacted the Reapers a while back since they owed him a favor, and now they've found something. So Volk is offering to scout the place."

"Volk?"

"Yeah, the leader of the Reapers."

Surely Bradford would have told them? Then I realized.

"Volikov, my bad. I just remember him always being referred to as Volk, you know?"

"Uh... Yeah."

The hall descended into another awkward silence.

Of course they're going to be weirded out, I would be too if my entire life was previously part of a game to some stranger.

Bradford finally walked out of the room with little fanfare, but he was looking like all those twenty years finally caught up to him.

"Oskar."

He had a grave tone to his voice. As if deliberating heavily on something. The man appeared to visibly relent, before posing a question with the weight of the world.

"Is sh—" He cut himself off, rephrasing the query. "Is the commander really at that site?"

Oh. 

I understand now. He's been looking, hoping for twenty long years that the commander was still alive. Keeping a strong face for the resistance and recently re-established XCOM. And the news from the Reapers has reignited a faint glimmer of that hope.

Because the commander, to him, is the only hope. He knows he isn't capable of bringing the fight to the elders. The only tactician capable of that, would be the commander themselves.

But the wait has taken its toll. I think, if this were a false alarm, it would have finally broken him. It might still break him, if my presence has changed things badly enough.

I don't exactly know where the sudden burst of insight came from, but he deserves an honest answer, so I will answer as honestly as I can.

"I'm sorry that I can't guarantee anything. I didn't exist in the games, obviously. But. The commander is there, if my knowledge holds. You broke them out, using a disruption to ADVENT day as a distraction."

He considered the information, looking both relieved and somehow even more tired than before.

"Thank you."

He turned to go back towards the room.

"I still don't really know what to do with you, but I believe you."

Well, there is one thing I can do. I've finally made my decision.

"I think... I want to fight. For XCOM. For humanity's future."

The guards looked at each other. Bradford nodded in acknowledgement.

"We might need to give out some explanations, but till then, welcome aboard."

He extended his hand.

I took it.

I wondered if he was going to give a speech, or something.

Instead he simply proclaimed:

"Now. I think I'm going to go get a drink."