Chapter 1
Foreword
Hi guys and gals. I'll be trying my hand at writing fanfiction for the first time in forever, here on the Sietch.
I'm trying to research the topics I talk about, but seeing as my only military experience was as a noncombatant and a conscript, and not in any of the major military forces in the story, I may get details about the military or their operations wrong. I apologize to those it will inevitably annoy (probably most veterans here).
I do try to do my research, but I am time constrained, as you can imagine, and can't read lengthy books about these topics (which is what would have probably been needed to produce a publication-grade novel).
With that out of the way, let's begin.
Chapter 1 - Initiation
BG Robert Austin dropped into the cushioned seat. He turned his withering gaze to the two individuals sitting across the mahogany conference table.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I hope I have a really good reason for being here."
Austin was furious. Only yesterday he was in Afghanistan, ready to take part in one of the most wide-scale assaults on Taliban positions in years. He was supposed to oversee the southern thrust, commanding about half the troops assigned to assault Helmand province, possibly the most important theater in the coming fight.
Then, just hours before the green light, a black Osprey landed, and with it, new orders. Now he was... he didn't exactly know where, except that this was somewhere in mainland USA. He could see his career prospects slipping away, although that wasn't his greatest concern.
With his absence, his second in command will have to take over, unless the Army flew in a replacement. Mere hours before going to battle, it didn't matter much which option was realized - nobody could be prepared for the job in such a short time, and this was going to cost in soldier's lives.
The men across the table looked at each other briefly, then back at him.
One was wearing an unremarkable black suit and tie. Austin privately decided this guy was a spook. He had that look about him, something intangible you could only pick up once you've dealt with a few of their kind.
The other man, bizarrely enough, was in uniform, but it was the wrong one. He was a Major-General of the Canadian Air Force. Technically, Austin being a Brigadier-General, the Canadian outranked him. Not that it meant much when dealing with foreign armies, or outside the chain of command for that matter. At their pay grades, formalities were not as strictly observed in any case. Austin could not begin to imagine what he was doing here.
"We thank you for coming, General," the Canadian smiled. I'm Major-General Marcus Brown, this is Agent Dan Porowski."
He shook their hands hesitantly.
"Can you tell me where we are?" He asked. "I haven't been told anything."
"Sure, General," Porowski nodded. "This is an underground black site. We're under Salmon-Challis national forest, in Idaho."
Well, that explained the lack of windows, at least.
"And?" Austin prompted the man.
"And I'm sure you have a lot of questions, General. We originally intended to brief you in the morning." He glanced at the clock on the far wall. It showed the time was 12:40 AM.
"I know," Austin said. "I insisted on being briefed ASAP. I'm much needed back in Afghanistan."
"We understand," the Canadian, Brown, said. "I'm afraid that you have been permanently reassigned. Your second in command, Colonel Jordan, will be taking over your operation."
Thoughts mixed with anger swirled through Austin's head.
"This is insane! This asinine decision may cost hundreds of American lives!"
"Believe me, General," Porowski said, "it wouldn't have been done if there wasn't a great need. Rest assured that your new orders and assignment are authorized at the highest levels of government."
"I assume this is an international effort of some kind?" He glanced at Brown's uniform again.
"Yes, General, indeed it is, and at an unprecedented scale and level of cooperation."
Austin could scarcely imagine what kind of international operation was worth losing his previous command. He was sitting in a black ops site, so this probably had nothing to do with UN peacekeeping operations. Probably a new anti-terrorist or anti-cartel drive.
"We're not exactly prepared for this briefing, to be honest, since we were called here hours earlier than scheduled" Brown said, "but we'll do our best to clue you in. Shall we settle down?"
Austin gave his begrudging approval.
An enlisted man in a US Marine uniform brought them coffee.
Army, Marines and the Canadian air force. That guy wasn't joking when he said it was an unprecedented international effort.
"We'll try to ease you in gently, General," Porowski said. He bent down, then slammed a silver briefcase onto the table. "This little operation of ours is unusual even for black ops. There's a lot you'll need to wrap your head around, so be prepared to be here for a few hours."
"That's why we wanted the briefing to be in the morning," Brown remarked, calmly sipping his coffee. "But we'll make do, don't worry."
Porowski nodded in agreement, then produced a keycard, which he pressed to a reader installed into the suitcase. He then pressed his thumb to a small panel, and input a long code - 10 or 11 digits long, it seemed to Austin - on a keypad. Finally, the briefcase deigned to open itself up.
The agent - Austin suddenly noted that neither of the other men specified the agency he worked for - extracted a USB flash drive, then closed the briefcase. It locked up with a series of audible clicks.
"Right, then," Porowski said, smiling. He inserted the flash drive into the conference room's computer. The conference room projector activated automatically, showing them what Porowski was doing on the computer. The USB contained many files and folders, all of them with seemingly random, meaningless names, nothing but an alphanumerical jumble of symbols. Porowski navigated through several folders, most of which were password protected, then opened a video file.
"Our educational journey begins two years ago. However, General, in time you'll come to see that the roots of the issues facing us extend much further back in time."
The projection showed body cam footage, or so it appeared. Men armed with assault rifles were running toward the entrance to a warehouse of some sort. The writing 'FBI' was stenciled in yellow letters on their vests.
"Two FBI agents disappeared. Didn't show up to work, didn't even leave a note with their families." On the projection, the officers were trying to open a door. It was locked. The man behind the camera waved a hand, and a battering ram was brought forward. "In the following months, an investigation tied them into a series of gruesome murders. Both were good agents, not remarkably so, but not troublemakers in any sense. Finally, after months of footwork, the FBI tracked them to an abandoned warehouse in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 250 miles from their workplace in Huston.
The agents breeched the door. There were flashes, probably from flashbangs, although the sound was off so it was hard to tell. The agents stormed in. The footage became jerky and chaotic, and it became difficult to discern anything in the gloom. The only thing Austin was sure of that there were flashes of gunfire.
"The operation to capture the two... encountered complications. They resisted arrest, fiercely so."
Austin briefly saw the bodies of agents on the floor, blood and spent casings all around them, before the camera jerked away. For a fraction of a second Austin could see a man on the other side of the premises, standing with arms spread wide and snarling madly at the agents. He couldn't discern much more in the brief time it was onscreen.
"You can see the results here, in this video. The attempted arrest raised a lot of questions, ones we're struggling to answer to this day."
A cloud of dust suddenly erupted into the cavernous room of the warehouse, along with bright daylight. The camera turned away briefly to show an armored car breaking through the wall, then back to the snarling man. Austin had slightly more than a second now to take a good look at him. He was wearing a nondescript T-shirt and jeans, and his face was clean-shaven. The man wasn't armed, but looked remarkably well for someone who just came out of a firefight, except for a sickly pallor to his kin. The man was averting his face from the bright daylight. Then he burst into flames.
Austin blinked. The man was now burning like a torch, or a bonfire, flailing his arms all around. He fell to the ground in a few seconds. The footage stopped as the agents started to rush toward the flaming body.
"What the hell was that?" He said. "Did they use WP or something?" He couldn't imagine the FBI using weapons forbidden by international law, and on an unarmed man at that. But he didn't have any better idea. He just stared at the frozen image.
"Nope," Porowski answered. "Not incendiary rounds or even tracers either. Nothing flammable. There was not enough left of him to identify, even by DNA or dental records."
"Then... what happened?" It sure as hell sounded like WP, if it could even burn through teeth.
The spook shrugged. "This is one of the reasons you're here."
That statement confused the hell out of Austin. He was a general in the US Army, not a pathologist, and the incident happened two years ago.
Nothing was making any sense. A headache was starting to set in. He decided to move on for now.
"You said there were two deserters? What about the second guy?"
Porowski showed him a still image. A storage shed of some sort, with various tools, a water hose, a dirty sink.
"This shed is the only other enclosed room in the warehouse. The second suspect fled inside as the agents breeched."
"So you got him? Did he admit to the murders?"
"We didn't get him, General." Porowski shook his head. "He simply vanished. The FBI agents that went inside found no trace of him ever being there. Later, a team tore down the room in its entirety. There were no hidden doors or anything of the sort. The room's only connection with the outside world was that one door, not counting the wiring and piping. There wasn't even an air vent."
Austin had enough of this nonsense. He stood up. "I don't understand. This case has nothing to do with me or my job."
"Sit down, General, please," Brown spoke up. "This is just the first weird case out of a long string of many, leading up to where we now stand."
"And where is that?"
"XCOM," the man simply answered.
"X what?" They better start making sense, or I'm walking out of here.
"There were always unsolved crimes and mysteries throughout recorded human history," Brown said, "but the occurrences spiked over the last few years. We're getting more and more... bizarre and unusual events all across the world. We have no idea what it means, but after a while it finally made the politicians take notice. Worse, there's some anecdotal evidence that some people in places of power, in politics, industries, religion and crime, that know more about this than they let on." He sighed. "Things are getting out of hand, and existing law enforcement agencies and military forces are simply inadequate for the task."
"Still not seeing what I have to do with all this occult crap."
"You're going to command this facility, the first base of the newly founded international organization, created specifically to research and deal with strange and unsolvable events like this one. And maybe, just maybe, get to the bottom of this whole thing once and for all."
"And this is what this X thing is?"
"Yes, General. XCOM, the Extranormal Combat Unit."
Hi guys and gals. I'll be trying my hand at writing fanfiction for the first time in forever, here on the Sietch.
I'm trying to research the topics I talk about, but seeing as my only military experience was as a noncombatant and a conscript, and not in any of the major military forces in the story, I may get details about the military or their operations wrong. I apologize to those it will inevitably annoy (probably most veterans here).
I do try to do my research, but I am time constrained, as you can imagine, and can't read lengthy books about these topics (which is what would have probably been needed to produce a publication-grade novel).
With that out of the way, let's begin.
Chapter 1 - Initiation
BG Robert Austin dropped into the cushioned seat. He turned his withering gaze to the two individuals sitting across the mahogany conference table.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I hope I have a really good reason for being here."
Austin was furious. Only yesterday he was in Afghanistan, ready to take part in one of the most wide-scale assaults on Taliban positions in years. He was supposed to oversee the southern thrust, commanding about half the troops assigned to assault Helmand province, possibly the most important theater in the coming fight.
Then, just hours before the green light, a black Osprey landed, and with it, new orders. Now he was... he didn't exactly know where, except that this was somewhere in mainland USA. He could see his career prospects slipping away, although that wasn't his greatest concern.
With his absence, his second in command will have to take over, unless the Army flew in a replacement. Mere hours before going to battle, it didn't matter much which option was realized - nobody could be prepared for the job in such a short time, and this was going to cost in soldier's lives.
The men across the table looked at each other briefly, then back at him.
One was wearing an unremarkable black suit and tie. Austin privately decided this guy was a spook. He had that look about him, something intangible you could only pick up once you've dealt with a few of their kind.
The other man, bizarrely enough, was in uniform, but it was the wrong one. He was a Major-General of the Canadian Air Force. Technically, Austin being a Brigadier-General, the Canadian outranked him. Not that it meant much when dealing with foreign armies, or outside the chain of command for that matter. At their pay grades, formalities were not as strictly observed in any case. Austin could not begin to imagine what he was doing here.
"We thank you for coming, General," the Canadian smiled. I'm Major-General Marcus Brown, this is Agent Dan Porowski."
He shook their hands hesitantly.
"Can you tell me where we are?" He asked. "I haven't been told anything."
"Sure, General," Porowski nodded. "This is an underground black site. We're under Salmon-Challis national forest, in Idaho."
Well, that explained the lack of windows, at least.
"And?" Austin prompted the man.
"And I'm sure you have a lot of questions, General. We originally intended to brief you in the morning." He glanced at the clock on the far wall. It showed the time was 12:40 AM.
"I know," Austin said. "I insisted on being briefed ASAP. I'm much needed back in Afghanistan."
"We understand," the Canadian, Brown, said. "I'm afraid that you have been permanently reassigned. Your second in command, Colonel Jordan, will be taking over your operation."
Thoughts mixed with anger swirled through Austin's head.
"This is insane! This asinine decision may cost hundreds of American lives!"
"Believe me, General," Porowski said, "it wouldn't have been done if there wasn't a great need. Rest assured that your new orders and assignment are authorized at the highest levels of government."
"I assume this is an international effort of some kind?" He glanced at Brown's uniform again.
"Yes, General, indeed it is, and at an unprecedented scale and level of cooperation."
Austin could scarcely imagine what kind of international operation was worth losing his previous command. He was sitting in a black ops site, so this probably had nothing to do with UN peacekeeping operations. Probably a new anti-terrorist or anti-cartel drive.
"We're not exactly prepared for this briefing, to be honest, since we were called here hours earlier than scheduled" Brown said, "but we'll do our best to clue you in. Shall we settle down?"
Austin gave his begrudging approval.
An enlisted man in a US Marine uniform brought them coffee.
Army, Marines and the Canadian air force. That guy wasn't joking when he said it was an unprecedented international effort.
"We'll try to ease you in gently, General," Porowski said. He bent down, then slammed a silver briefcase onto the table. "This little operation of ours is unusual even for black ops. There's a lot you'll need to wrap your head around, so be prepared to be here for a few hours."
"That's why we wanted the briefing to be in the morning," Brown remarked, calmly sipping his coffee. "But we'll make do, don't worry."
Porowski nodded in agreement, then produced a keycard, which he pressed to a reader installed into the suitcase. He then pressed his thumb to a small panel, and input a long code - 10 or 11 digits long, it seemed to Austin - on a keypad. Finally, the briefcase deigned to open itself up.
The agent - Austin suddenly noted that neither of the other men specified the agency he worked for - extracted a USB flash drive, then closed the briefcase. It locked up with a series of audible clicks.
"Right, then," Porowski said, smiling. He inserted the flash drive into the conference room's computer. The conference room projector activated automatically, showing them what Porowski was doing on the computer. The USB contained many files and folders, all of them with seemingly random, meaningless names, nothing but an alphanumerical jumble of symbols. Porowski navigated through several folders, most of which were password protected, then opened a video file.
"Our educational journey begins two years ago. However, General, in time you'll come to see that the roots of the issues facing us extend much further back in time."
The projection showed body cam footage, or so it appeared. Men armed with assault rifles were running toward the entrance to a warehouse of some sort. The writing 'FBI' was stenciled in yellow letters on their vests.
"Two FBI agents disappeared. Didn't show up to work, didn't even leave a note with their families." On the projection, the officers were trying to open a door. It was locked. The man behind the camera waved a hand, and a battering ram was brought forward. "In the following months, an investigation tied them into a series of gruesome murders. Both were good agents, not remarkably so, but not troublemakers in any sense. Finally, after months of footwork, the FBI tracked them to an abandoned warehouse in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 250 miles from their workplace in Huston.
The agents breeched the door. There were flashes, probably from flashbangs, although the sound was off so it was hard to tell. The agents stormed in. The footage became jerky and chaotic, and it became difficult to discern anything in the gloom. The only thing Austin was sure of that there were flashes of gunfire.
"The operation to capture the two... encountered complications. They resisted arrest, fiercely so."
Austin briefly saw the bodies of agents on the floor, blood and spent casings all around them, before the camera jerked away. For a fraction of a second Austin could see a man on the other side of the premises, standing with arms spread wide and snarling madly at the agents. He couldn't discern much more in the brief time it was onscreen.
"You can see the results here, in this video. The attempted arrest raised a lot of questions, ones we're struggling to answer to this day."
A cloud of dust suddenly erupted into the cavernous room of the warehouse, along with bright daylight. The camera turned away briefly to show an armored car breaking through the wall, then back to the snarling man. Austin had slightly more than a second now to take a good look at him. He was wearing a nondescript T-shirt and jeans, and his face was clean-shaven. The man wasn't armed, but looked remarkably well for someone who just came out of a firefight, except for a sickly pallor to his kin. The man was averting his face from the bright daylight. Then he burst into flames.
Austin blinked. The man was now burning like a torch, or a bonfire, flailing his arms all around. He fell to the ground in a few seconds. The footage stopped as the agents started to rush toward the flaming body.
"What the hell was that?" He said. "Did they use WP or something?" He couldn't imagine the FBI using weapons forbidden by international law, and on an unarmed man at that. But he didn't have any better idea. He just stared at the frozen image.
"Nope," Porowski answered. "Not incendiary rounds or even tracers either. Nothing flammable. There was not enough left of him to identify, even by DNA or dental records."
"Then... what happened?" It sure as hell sounded like WP, if it could even burn through teeth.
The spook shrugged. "This is one of the reasons you're here."
That statement confused the hell out of Austin. He was a general in the US Army, not a pathologist, and the incident happened two years ago.
Nothing was making any sense. A headache was starting to set in. He decided to move on for now.
"You said there were two deserters? What about the second guy?"
Porowski showed him a still image. A storage shed of some sort, with various tools, a water hose, a dirty sink.
"This shed is the only other enclosed room in the warehouse. The second suspect fled inside as the agents breeched."
"So you got him? Did he admit to the murders?"
"We didn't get him, General." Porowski shook his head. "He simply vanished. The FBI agents that went inside found no trace of him ever being there. Later, a team tore down the room in its entirety. There were no hidden doors or anything of the sort. The room's only connection with the outside world was that one door, not counting the wiring and piping. There wasn't even an air vent."
Austin had enough of this nonsense. He stood up. "I don't understand. This case has nothing to do with me or my job."
"Sit down, General, please," Brown spoke up. "This is just the first weird case out of a long string of many, leading up to where we now stand."
"And where is that?"
"XCOM," the man simply answered.
"X what?" They better start making sense, or I'm walking out of here.
"There were always unsolved crimes and mysteries throughout recorded human history," Brown said, "but the occurrences spiked over the last few years. We're getting more and more... bizarre and unusual events all across the world. We have no idea what it means, but after a while it finally made the politicians take notice. Worse, there's some anecdotal evidence that some people in places of power, in politics, industries, religion and crime, that know more about this than they let on." He sighed. "Things are getting out of hand, and existing law enforcement agencies and military forces are simply inadequate for the task."
"Still not seeing what I have to do with all this occult crap."
"You're going to command this facility, the first base of the newly founded international organization, created specifically to research and deal with strange and unsolvable events like this one. And maybe, just maybe, get to the bottom of this whole thing once and for all."
"And this is what this X thing is?"
"Yes, General. XCOM, the Extranormal Combat Unit."
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