It was FUBAR from the beginning. We had the usual briefing- whatever you'd call that mockery of pointing you to the entrance of a hole in the ground and saying there were aliens in there, now go get'em slugger!- and we went in. Like the good soldiers we were. Oh, we were plenty tough, and though we had three new guys since my Karina- since the three squaddies went down in Rome- we had a load of new weaponry, four heavy plasmas, new automatic rifles, those crazy grenades that'll vaporize a house wall, one new toy that could read alien minds, and three new extremely bad sons of bitches. We were rough, tough, and ready to kick some grey ass.

Only they weren't greys. They were something new.

We went in, standard breach. Smoke out down their version of an elevator shaft, and sent the first man down to scout and pop back up if he sees anything, then drop a frag on their heads. One of the rooks went down, and comm'ed us the all clear- three squelches on the throat mic. Four more went down and covered the corridors, ovelapping fields of fire, crouching like we told 'em, and prepping smokes to throw when we all moved next- or if they went down, they'd give cover for those coming to get them some vengeance and peace. Four of us- myself included- got our heavy plasmas ready and prepped those alien grenades of ours. The sarge coordinated with us, and we stepped onto the platform.

Screams below.

Two of these big purple floating bastards, more teeth than two heads, had come out of this purple cavern behind us. Autofire'd on the rooks, twice each, heavy plasma, twelve rounds all over, blowing a hole in the wall behind the rooks. Their luck held out- Hector- ... one of the rooks took a hit in the armor, but he stayed up. The rook with that mind probe said they were soldiers, and to waste 'em all. Next moment, we're down there, each pointing in a different direction, and one of us heavies vaporizes one of them with a single autofire and two autofire blasts. We look over the things- floaters, we call'em now. Well, you've been in the lab ma'am, you've seen the two we've got in containment and the corpses we brought back... And you know what else came up on us a moment later. Roaring down the corridor, charging balls out for blood, massive furred death like a sharks mouth on two legs. Picked up one of the rooks and ripped it apart in its mouth, lunged at her- her entire- the rooks body went all the way in, up to her midriff, arms pinned at her side. Bit her in half.

I turned and bagged the thing, two holes the size of my fist through its head and body- you can see the holes in it where I hit- and it still ran for me before dropping from bleeding out. Just three moments gone by, and we know we're in the shit already.

We split into three teams- the rook with the mind probe staying with some to cover the shaft and keep the south corridor covered, a team going into the caves north, and a team going to check out the east corridor. I already told the head honchos about the nitty-gritty, you don't need to hear how many we bagged on the patrols. We kept each other covered- aside from a rook team fucking up and letting one of his buddies get the top of his head blown off- and we took down another five of the floaters, scanning each before we opened up on them- soldiers, soldiers, and more soldiers. We eventually come up on a navigator like the grey one you and your colleagues interviewed- and we're told over the comms to capture it if possible. Possible becomes impossible two more corpses later, and after a rook lost their partner- brave, beautiful bastard- he charged down the hallway and dropped a grenade he was too wounded to throw. Took himself, the navigator, and the soldier covering the ugly fuck straight to hell with him. I hear his scream over the comm and felt the thump through the walls when it went off. His families getting a low-seven figure settlement. I made sure of it.

We continue through the corridors, watching each other. We lose another rook to panic fire from one of the floaters, and we keep going. My mate and I spot one, we call it in, and we're told its an engineer- it's got the plans for ships in its head, and we need it back alive. As soon as we get that, the thing turns and spots us. I can jump behind a corner, but I can see her- she's too far down the corridor, she'd never make it in time, and heavies don't get stun rods. There's two squaddies behind us with stun rods, and its a half and half shot of it chilling her or them. "Acknowledged" she says in the link. She lets her gun swing at her side and runs down the corridor at it- looked like she was going to tackle it. It couldn't miss at that range. It didn't. That was her whole plan. She falls without a sound, three holes in her so big I can see the floor through them. The two get up on it and jump the motherfucker, beating it with their stun rods long after its down. The Sarge is already over to us- great big bear of a russian- and pulls them off of it. He picks up the fucking things heavy plasma, radios for the rook with the mind probe to head back to the elevator, and then the four of us split again- the sarge and I heading further east, the two heading south, following a glowing corridor we blew a hole into during an earlier firefight to the center.

I get a fair ways down, turn a corner, and I'm staring into the biggest ass I've ever seen. The Reaper- nice name you guys gave it, by the by- turns around and snarls at me. I let off a burst point blank and hit it three times, all center mass. It doesn't flinch, and comes barreling down on me, ready to lunge.

We get a message over the comms from command- take it alive. Sarge doesn't blink, jumps in front of me, and hits it with a stun rod. It doesn't go down. He hits it again, and it decides it doesn't like the tingly feeling he's getting. He bites down on the sarge from the side and lifts him up, shaking. The report says the sarge primed all his grenades before the thing tears him to bits, painting him across the corridor. That's not what happened. What happened was, while he was in its mouth, to the point where he fell apart, the sarge kept hitting it with his stun rod, trying to subdue it. He's got four massive holes in him that I can see, bleeding from every one, and he keeps trying to obey command. He's shredded, and with him out of the way, I open up on the fucking thing, blast it to bits. Four of us left. Right up until I hear some fast babbling and a scream cutoff by gunfire and a grenade blast.

Three.

I double back, stepping on the engineer as I go, and end up in this fucked up storage room full of tanks with an elevator in the middle of it. A squaddie points up, says he can see up the shaft. Two motherfuckers up there. He tells me to wait here, and as he turns to go up there, I can see the blood coming out from under his clothes and that shit they call armor while you lot are still working on making personal armor for us instead of the company surplus crap we're handed. He knows this is likely a one way trip. He goes up, takes some more hits, and falls down the shaft. Tough bastard said he stunned the one the rook in the entry elevator said was capture at all costs- commander, we've heard after we got back, and rolled a grenade towards a leader classification. I hold him as the grenade goes off, and he passes out with the other ones scream, a smile on his face.

I drag him back to the elevator and radio for the clean up crew. We see them in the SouAfrican national colors pulling up to the entrance as we fly out on the skyhawk. Engineer, commander. Some new tech we found out was alien entertainment. And seven good soldiers who died for their planet first, loyal to the end, getting stripped of their gear and brought back here to get cremated at the base so no one wonders just what the hell kind of wounds do they have. No funerals. Nothing for their families who think they're in their regular respective countries armies but a "We Regret to Inform You" and whatever settlements I can beg, scrape, and steal for them. The rook hasn't said a word in four days- they said its either side-effects from the probe going into those alien minds or its PTSD. He's gone straight to squaddie after just his second mission, whatever consolation that means to his warped mind. Zhdanovich is doped up in medical, and they say it's gonna take nineteen days before he can breathe on his own- and on that very day he'll be shipped out with the rest of us.

And you know what it's all for? Alien television. fifty fucking big screen alien TV's. Whatever's in that fucking engineer and commander, I hope you're getting it out of them with bone saws. Because we just got report of another base in Central Asia. The ChiComs are talking about withrawing from X-Com, and we've got a base appearing in their country. We're down three men, and I'm in charge. I'm telling you there's going to be some big changes when we next go in there. The engineers say the Small Launchers are ready, and I've put in orders on everything from hi-ex to prox mines to cover the corridors we aren't going to sweep. We've got their base layout now, and when I go in, I'm gonna have thirteen motherfuckers backing me up instead of nine. And I'm going to personally plant my boot up the next alien ass I see, whether its grey or purple or furry fucking red, or anything else this damned universe throws at us. Because I'm not going to let something like that happen to us again... Where they give us medals for losing seven good soldiers.

That's it for "First Base" ladies and gentlemen, the first "successful" base run I ever did. As you'll be able to see, through Zhdanovich being a hard as nails motherfucker and Krause being an excellent on the ground commander, I'm able to get much, much better. . . Though that isn't to say in the slightest that there aren't still loses. Far from it. Next story: "Second Base".

>>7183349
Next mission: Snakemen Night Terror Mission. Enjoy your hugs.

"There wasn't going to be any more fuckups this time," I remember thinking as I dropped into the eerie green glow.

After the debacle that was our raid on the SouAfrican Alien Base, I was in charge of planning and command up until completion of this mission. Zhdanovich would be along for the ride at the last minute, and even with seniority, and frankly, superiority, it would be me that had to plan in the days before we went in, brief the rooks on the equipment and known enemies, and it would be me the little pups identified with. Bastards that Command are, but I could understand that they needed Zhdanovich's experience on the field with me: nine kills, four of them cyberdisks, two sectoids, three of those floaters bagged, and one Commander dragged back to base, we couldn't afford to not bring him along on any mission.

>>7183402

Nah, those shenanigans started after third base if I recall correctly. I'm only skimming occassionally as I post to make sure this is all in order. Think it's third base. Haven't played since I started college. Gonna change that.

I'd completely reorganized the standard battle order after our last run. Fourteen men: six heavy plasmas with stun rods, and alien grenades; four dedicated stunners with the new small launchers you and your lot retroengineered for us- and thanks, by the by- with back up plasma rifles; a dedicated mind prober, armed with nothing but a mind probe and the assumption that if shit really hit the fan he'd pull himself back up the shaft and bolt on the Skyranger; And three of the meanest mothersuckers you've ever laid eyes on, the crux of the issue- the Riflemen. Everyone I'd asked for had to have demolitions experience, good aim, the strength to haul some serious gear, and as I told them, "The physical fitness to run out of a cloud of incredibly hot smoke, bolt around several corners, and dive back into cover before some motherfucker from Jupiter has time to get over seeing you right in front of them and put six plasma shots that can blast through three inches of alien alloy and boil human blood from where it impacts." They got a Plasma rifle, two prox mines- proxies, we call'em- a stun rod, and one heaping hunk of X-Com grade Hi-Ex plastic explosive, the stuff I've seen blow through scout craft outer walls. And everyone but the mind prober got a smoke grenade. I made sure of that.

Not ten seconds in, and we were already in business, running like a well-oiled machine. It was going perfectly- just perfectly.

Sectoids. I loved those ugly bastards just as much as I hated them- easy to take down, just as armed as we all were, and the worst thing to worry about was cyberdisks- which we could tear through with our heavies. Four sectoid soldiers down, sweeped and cleared them all in what felt like two heartbeats. Two in the Southwest corridor- I took those down personally- and after I cleared the rifleman mined mined it. Two in the Northwest corridor, one spots Otto and shoots at him a few times, clean misses, before a heavy gunner drops the thing. NorthWest corridor mined. Mined the East corridor- wall to the south, move up through what appears to be a hangar, all clear. Otto starts praying to himself in his comms- rook left his mic on. Just shakes from the close call. I tell him to focus and move on.

Three close calls after that. A heavy gunner made a convenient doorway in the secondary wall and Petrov ran in. Sectoid on the left. Ordered a scan, and it came back as a Navigator- orders were capture if at all possible. I passed on the order to wait, ordered up a Stunner and got a quick series of squelches on the comms from both of them- acknowledged. He rolls in, stun bomb flies, one Navigator that's going to wake up in twelve hours in its own fishtank complete with an examination table and torture implements- lets see how it likes someone rummaging about in their guts with no permission to be there. The hallways thump, and I can feel my body vibrate from a nearby anti-grav unit. My suspicions are confirmed in a moment. The stunner radios back it's a Cyberdisk that just missed him and he was in cover behind a corner- but Petrov was exposed still, couldn't make it. I called Zhdanovich's name over the comms, and before I even spoke he gives me an Acknowledged right back over the comms. He folds into the corridor, blocking Petrov from the cyberdisks attacks with his own body. The thing lets off three shots- I heard the thumps across the corridor- and he doesn't twitch. First round he lets off from his heavy Plasma, the thing's dusted. The next two that hit was just icing on the cake as the thing blasted itself to high hell. He radios back the all clear, and for the first time in a long while- I grin.

And then one of the rooks screamed.

Otto Hafner was on his knees, bashing his head against his launcher. I yelled for everyone to stay back and shut up- he was whispering over the comm. "They're inside me- they're inside my mind- my God, my soul! oh God, please, save me, please, God almighty!" He started babbling in Swedish, but I could tell by the rhythm that it was the Lord's prayer. I cut the guy off over the comms- didn't need the rooks to hear that- didn't need ME to hear that- and yelled for Stefan Faerber to move up, stun rod at the ready. He cringed as he creeped up on him- "I can smell, he messed himself"- Otto started retching, convulsing- then he was up again, sweating buckets and eyes bulging. "THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!" I had enough time to yell "FAERBER, BACK!" before Otto opened up with his plasma rifle. I could hear Otto screaming in rage, and I got a confirmation from everyone with eyes on Otto- he was shooting at ghosts.

Command started screaming into the mics, told us that stunning him in that state wouldn't put him down- no shit, I thought, no one would get close enough without getting blasted- and that it was worth every one of our lives to stun bomb the command room straight to hell. Was tempted to order up the riflemen and command them to drop Hi-Ex when they said that, but them mentioning stun bombs gave me an idea.

I told all others carrying the launchers to sound off as Otto let off two more autofires. Stefan Brehme had just dropped the medic, and that big mothersucker Boris Samusenko said he hadn't reloaded after dropping the navigator yet, and he'd have it ready in ten seconds. Mikhail Kolotov comm'd in, said he was loaded, had eyes on, and may be able to take the shot. I comm'd Faerber and everyone to get into cover- minding the proxies- and told Kolotov to shoot. Guy left his mic on as he acted- snap shot. Heard the rush of air as his gun swept up to his shoulder, his boots against the tile as he turned, and in a second, before Otto could even blink, he fired. Heard the thump in the room right next to me, listened as Otto slumped to the ground. No more gunfire. No more sounds. Not a breath from anyone...

It was time to set an example. I stepped over to Otto on the ground, picked up his small launcher and ammo, and got on the comm. I told people to stay sharp- "Everyone comes home," I said, just like they heard from me in the briefing. "If anyone falls under alien control, it's the responsibility of their teammates to put them down before they hurt themselves or others," I said to them. "We keep going, we bag what we need, we take this base out from under them, and we all go back on the Skyranger. Now keep up and stick together- we're almost there, soldiers." We tightened up and got ready for the big breach.

We'd got the three remaining stunners in position. Two grey motherfuckers came around the corner inside the primary ring. One saw Zhdanovich and turned right back around and ran to cover- the other fired two snap shots, nailing the old Russian right in the chest. Guess which one survived? Trick question, he killed'em both. After calmly radioing in a scan on the one he could see and getting a green-light on the soldier, he acted, first wasting the one that burnt clean through his armor, his shirt, and must've stopped in his massive thicket of chest hair, then lobbed the alien grenade one of its ugly brothers kindly donated to our organization right at the corner. We're not still sure from the mist of parts, and its damn hard to tell from their screams- that natural reverb they have, you know?-, but he may have bagged two others with that one grenade- command isn't sure about the kill count. Damage estimates based on some of the walls around it getting fragged says the damage it inflicted was likely overkill on their systems by a multiple of six. Sectoid soldiers though? Not the smartest. Another couple came around the corner and stood there- For reasons I'm about to go over, I called up Lyudmila Petrov and told her to use her Det-Pack and blast them right back to wherever they came from. She wiped out nine alien alloy walls and twelve floor tiles, in addition to atomizing all but two corpses and their loadouts.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The grenadiers had all moved into the supply room with those queer water tanks in them, and they radioed back that they had movement and alien chatter from above, they could see shadows in the dark looking down at them- and they heard some sort of weird humming as well. I wasn't going to take chances with them. I told them to take position without me standing in for Otto- and to launch all loaded stun bombs. They formed up, one to every corner but the north corner, and fired up the shaft. Stun bombs flew, and bodies thudded to the floor. The gas trickled down the shaft, and they reported the silhouettes were out of sight. I heard one of the rooks mutter something in Russian to another, and the other replied. Silence over the comms for a moment, and then the two spoke again- Boris and Kolotov had gone up without permission and had eyes on the command center. Before I could start my litany of cursing the holy shit out of them, Boris comm'd in. Three down- two Lee's and a Charlie. I stopped breathing and I could practically SMELL the scent of Command shitting itself in glee across two continents. Two leaders and a commander? Jesus Christ. Command managed to stop creaming its collective pants long enough to comm in over my private link to them. Their next moves were to inspect the weapons the leaders had on them and to take -especial- note of what was on the commander: to find what was humming, and to open fire on the command center consoles. While they said that, Boris comm'd back that his gun had actually jammed- he'd just cleared it, the idiot- and that Kolotov's stun bomb had taken out all three of them- Brehme's stun bomb had sailed clear.

Christ. If Kolotov hadn't missed- if they went up there and there was still a jam in Boris' gun and there were active hostiles... If it were up to me they'd both've gotten a beating. Command gave those idiots commendations. Suppose I'm the biggest idiot letting them go in. Even if I had no time, they said the countries were all an inch away from breaking the pact- all of them- while I stonewalled for time, supplies, what soldiers they gave me... Christ, why am I complaining, after how well it went. Guess I'm just a negative sonofabitch. There's a lot I have to be thankful for- and I am.

Command told me to hold and stay on the line- then got back to me with the last thing I thought I heard. They said we could leave before sweeping the whole base. I thought I was dreaming. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. They said that everything of importance was obtained. We were to blast the four navigational consoles in the Command Center, stuff the downed sectoids in our backpacks- I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing here- and to get all soldiers AND the hostages back to their elevator shaft and Bug Out. They'd nuke the site shortly afterwards and have a nice cover- China was on the line with some other countries, and would agree to claim the blast was for non-UN approved Nuclear testing, and the other countries agreed to condemn them for this- without taking any real action over it. Got to love how even the politicians work together when faced with the alien threat.

So Lyudmila Petrov atomized a few soldiers, and I radioed the new orders- we were getting out of here before anything bad happened- with a few guests. The rooks managed to look professional on the whole, only a few openly showing how relieved they were to be out of this underground pit of aliens. I pixed up Otto and slung him over my shoulder, then headed back to the lift. "Command wants the uglies bagged- literally. Shove'em in your backpacks, grab any guns you haven't seen before, take a few heavy weapons clips, and blast those four consoles in the corners of the command center apart. Get it done, soldiers!"

They got it done. Quickly, efficiently, -correctly-. Five minutes after I said that, they were done and dusted, all back in shaft with me. It all went smooth as silk- aside from when the navigator and commander woke up. They crawled out of the packs, squealing and hissing. When the Navigator popped out first, everyone just about shit a steel spiked brick. The rifleman, Torban, pulled his stun rod out and jumped the thing- probably more than you lab rats- sorry, I didn't mean that- you and the other scientists would've liked. Then the commander got out, and he was a lot faster on the uptake than the navigator. Ran at one of us- the rifleman Stephan Faerber. Grabbed the kid by his collar, pulled him down, stared right into his black eyes. And Faerber started screaming, and screaming. Dropped all his weapons and started thrashing, screaming in terror. I walked over, took my stun rod, and beat the Sectoid Commander off of my rookie- with the stun setting off. THEN I kicked it square in its failed alien excuse for an ass, punting it into a wall. And after that I beat it into unconsciousness with my fists, and shoved it into my bag, telling it- and I'm paraphrasing here because I said some things I wouldn't say around noncombatants- "I will wreck you and any other alien that messes with another humans mind- and the hell that awaits you back at the base is nothing compared to what I do to alien /scum/ that fucks with MY rookies." I turned around, put Otto Hafner back over my shoulder, comforted Stephan, and told everyone we were leaving this place. Zhdanovich helped me lead the screaming Stephan back into the Skyranger outside, and we sedated him with the medical equipment we had onboard.

It was two in the morning. The sectoids were taped up and hogtied in the overhead compartments, drugged up so much when we brought them back Command thought we'd killed them until they started screaming in hatred- at which point Zhdanovich knocked them out using more traditional methods. All the rooks were asleep- Otto was still unconscious, and I was sitting next to the medicated Faerber. Zhdanovich and I were awake, as well as Boris, the other squaddie and previous mind-prober who underwent extensive "Psyche-Eval" that was more thorough than I got for surviving the last FUBAR Alien Base raid in SouAfrica. He was watching over the sleeping rook Frank Blake- the one who handled the Mind Probe this mission.

We all went back safely. Otto's fine, and though we didn't know it and he hadn't felt it because he was in shock, an alien had winged him with a glancing shot from a heavy plasma at one point- Stefan Brehme, a Grenadier- went into Medical for 29 days after they cut off the seared flesh and patched him up. Because of the necessary coverup, expending of a tactical high-yield low-radiation nuclear weapon, and the small amount of recovered goods; and even though we received commissions, commendations, and another rating of "excellent"- we did not get as many medals as last time. Zhdanovich and I laughed profusely about this over several glasses of high proof vodka he had the captain in the Russian Army that reccommended him to XCOM send him over surviving his fifth mission and ten alien kills- five cyberdisks, three sectoids, and two floaters if I recall, capturing a commander and smoking a leader, and personally dragging back a leader from this mission.

Though Stefan Faeber (Rifleman), Frank Blake (Mind Prober), Scott Stewart (Heavy Gunner), Robert Jonlan (Heavy Gunner tasked with watching the lift through the entire mission and was the last one up), Lyudmila Belov (Heavy Gunner), Otto Hafner (Grenadier), and Wolfgang Mederow (Heavy Gunner) all remained rookies, Mikhail Kolotov (Grenadier, stunned all the Leaders and Commander), Stefan Brehme (Grenadier and one tough mothersucker who took a plasma shot and kept going), Mikhail Torban (Rifleman, took down the Navigator twice and carried him back), and Lyudmila Petrov (Rifleman, atomized a hallway and THREE aliens) became commissioned to squaddie. Zhdanovich and I are both Sergeants, and they're working on that gun and those capsules I brought back as we speak. The powersuits will be done soon, and the new flying suits will be done shortly after we get some more Elerium... Things seem to be looking up for Earth, baby.

And that's it for "Second Base". Unfortunately for Krause, the world of X-Com is not a kind or gentle world. It tends to bend you over and fuck you with electric toothbrushes when you least expect it. Here's the next piece- X-Com: Greed of Nations. In this piece, a Russian is a douchebag and Krause headbutts him. Enjoy.

Those dirty motherfuckers. I don't know who's worse, the aliens or the greedy -FUCKS!- who run this world. They took me off- I can't believe it! I've been shot before, bullets flying in the deserts, how dare they say I can't take a hit!- that's not even the point!- Oh damn... I might as well start over. Beer me.

I'm off-roster and on-base indefinitely. X-COM never gets rid of something they may need later, the sniveling shits. If I could light them on fire with my mind this world would be short a helluvalot of politicians overnight. Blast'em all. Can't believe this. World runs on money, and X-COM's just the same- you'd think we'd above this or something. There's an obligation to the human race to keep all of us alive at all damn costs! What the hell are they doing?! They called me in- all of them, every one of them from the FUCKING Council of FUCKING Funding Nations. And you know what they told me?

They told me what I was giving them wasn't good enough.

"Who knows what resources we could have procured if your Commander hadn't folded and demanded a nuclear strike?"

"Who knows what new information we could have obtained from more test subjects?"

"Who knows what secrets- what technologies we could have obtained for the betterment of mankind?" And the fattening of your manpurses, I thought to myself.

I told them in my usual way that the lives of my X-Com soldiers weren't worth it -all those things they just listed, that is- to me. They told me never to curse again in front of them, and that it was conduct unbefitting a soldier employed by them. Employed- like I was working a cash register at a damn seven-eleven or an eighty year old greeter at Wal-Mart. I knew what they meant, and I knew what they were saying to me: employees can be fired. China stepped up to bat, and said that it was -particularly- displeased- I had to stop myself from gasping in surprise: we'd just saved their bacon, and this is the thanks we get? The two representatives of their Nation said that the outcome of this wasn't a profit, and that they were "cutting their donations to this particular charity." Russia, probably laughing, egging on their little communist friend, jumping on for the ride to screw with us. They said they wanted a base in Russia, that a base just in America wasn't good enough, wasn't taking care of their own problems- that time I blew off the terror mission in Novisibirsk or whatever the hell it was called- oh, they had a field day talking about that- disregarding that there were two-count 'em, two- combat capable soldiers at the time, that one was mute from his ordeals a day ago, and that the other was an incredibly pissed off me who spent the previous twenty four hours under intensive "Psych-Eval"- I'll let you put the pieces together as to what that meant for me, honey.

They told me what they had done to Novisibirsk. What they had to do to it because there was no X-COM actions taken against a terror mission by unknown aliens.

The aliens sent in their first terror unit, secured the area, and upon seeing there was nothing to threaten them beside a bunch of confused Russian civilians wondering why all their electronics just died, from cars to trains to lights... They kept bringing in waves and waves of aliens, because no one stopped them, and no one could escape. Russia had detonated an EMP under the city somehow, keeping people from getting out- keeping the word from spreading via telephone, internet, or just driving. And running wouldn't get them away fast enough. The Russians said their coverup was that there was an industrial accident on a catastrophic scale, bigger than Chernobyl- a gas leak at several connected factory complexes- and just to make it REAL convincing, those motherless sons of bitches ordered a chemical attack on their own city. The place is still contaminated- and they say it'll be weeks before chemicals dissipate completely from whatever they've condensed on, when it'll be a city filled with rotting corpses- and it'll still be missing several thousand of its citizens, but that wouldn't be a problem now, because no one'd care about the small details.

See, a press blackout would draw suspicion, especially when other countries not in the CFN heard about it. What would it be- medical experiments on citizens? Government decimation against a rioting city? God forbid, pulling an Iraq and testing nerve gas on its own population, or some other chemical attack? No, that would never do. Something huge, so big you can't cover it up- you warp it, distort it. A horrific incident, thousands of people missing- you make an even bigger catastrophe, and you kill tens of thousands- a hundred thousand people. Nation blames it on the company. Company blames it on the factories. Factories blame it on the material suppliers. Materials suppliers blame it on each other. Anything that could be said by anyone who could give any real answers on all these topics are rotting in the city of corpses. It goes round and round- probably will for decades, until the public gets bored of this latest Chernobyl, and we all move on. It's so beautiful it makes me sick. The Russian representative's been sitting five feet from me this entire time. He gets up and walks over to me. Gets right up in my face, looks me square in the eye- and then that son of a bitch says that city full of dead and all the little puppies and all the homeless people and all the happy families and all the little Russian children are Dead, Dead, DEAD, because of me being a small little boy scared of the aliens in the night.

I probably shouldn't've headbutted the Russian delegate.

We're thirty two thousand down now. We don't have money to make a second base if we even wanted to. We're going to have to start laying off scientists- sorry baby- 'cause at this rate we won't be able to -employ- them any further. Zhdanovich is the other sergeant, and once the Russian was done picking up his teeth, he said that man would now be leading all X-COM missions on the ground. Said he was a man who knew how to take hits and keep on hitting back, not some sniveling coward- saying this with tears in his eyes from the pain of losing his two front teeth and then some, I might add- some sniveling coward who wept like a woman whenever he lost one of his "little boy-toy plastic soldiers". I don't begrudge Zhdanovich. I already spoke to him, he called me as soon as he'd been notified he would be taking over operations from here on out. Said the Russian delegate was a "whistleblower cucksuck" or something like that and that he and some relations in the Russian army could help us with the funding problems for laser weaponry. God, black marketeering. Crime to save the world. Feel like I ought to go into the gerbil cage and beat on that sectoid commander again until I feel better or someone stuns me to stop from pounding its skull in...

What's that? ... Sectoid said what?

... Show me.

Take me to the Psi-Range.

Now the following is an interesting story, namely, how I made captain while not on mission- and how Zhdanovich does leading his squad in the First Defense of Melbourne. Things die. Lots of things die.

Captain's Log-

Damn is that fun to type-

May 5th, 1999.

Diary of newly promoted Captain Matthias Krause.

Psi-Lab/Range is coming along nicely. Ought to be done soon. Team just came back and debriefed me on the mission from Melbourne- minus one soldier. I don't begrudge Zhdanovich the rookie. From what I heard she stepped around the corner straight into two cyberdisks, ran forward, squeezed between the two in a small space, dropped a Hi-Ex, and spent her remaining time on a heavy plasma snapshot to give it her all. Took 'em both down, but there was nothing to recover after standing on the Plastic and the two Cyberdisc detonations. Gave the best account of herself as she could.

First Posthumous awards I'll be sending out in a while.

I am monitoring this thread with great interest.

Zhdanovich has come back an even harder sonofabitch than he was before. I can outshoot, outthrow, out-twitchfire, outrun, inspire my men more- but he just seems to end up in the thick of it more often, hit more often, and come out- if not unscathed- no worse than a couple of days in medical despite the number of shots and beasts he takes down. Sergeant Zhdanovich took down another two cyberdisks and some more sectoids. No prisoners on this mission.

Civilian casualties were light, I heard- five killed by the aliens before we- before the squad finished off all the grey uglies, saving seven more local Australians. After the mission, we heard tell of a new base, one that could be traced to the Novosibirisk terror mission/harvesting- strange figures in the night, reports of many chinese peasants going missing- things shambling around, taken down by Chinese dissident sweep teams, then all contact being lost with the teams. Horror stories told by a bunch of communist farmers toiling in rice-patties or whatever. Some reports of radiation sickness- a little over a dozen cases. Looks like the Chinese can't even use a reliable bomb on their own country. Maybe they just don't care. Maybe that's all X-COM could cover them using. Fuck it. I'm already down a bottle of Red Star Zhdanovich got me to welcome my promotion, and I typed this sentence five times before keeping it. Best keep this sort then.

>>7184335

Well if it isnt one of /tg/'s favorite traps! I'm glad someone's here, seems a bad idea in retrospect starting this up during a livestream thread with a movie marathon.

Well, after hearing about the base, I paid the Commander a visit, and we had a pleasant chat. The three power suits used during the Defense of Melbourne worked like a charm- Zhdanovich survived a frontal alien grenade blast, crazy bastard- and ther there was enough heavy plasma's gathered by the sweepers to fully arm a ten-man squad. We'll go to this new base, and we'll all be better armed and armored than a tank.

Yeah, we. I'm going to be leading the mission.

The Commander has decided to let the Council of Funding Nations get a chance to see me in a new light, he said. We're a private military organization that is controlled by the entire world defening alien menace, he said to me. We have some leeway in rules. bending.

Besides, I want to try out that gun I took off that sectoid commander. It's lovely warm and hums just a treat. Reminds me of freshed baked cookies With kazoos.afe op[]\afeg
Auto_Cmd://90_Min_Idle: Session Timed Out
Saving...
Entry Saved.
Engaging Sleep Mode...

>>7184409
Favourite means well hated? : D
I really do enjoy reading this and hope for more (and more and more and harder and...)

>>7184409
I'm not actually reading it, since I'm busy with other activities, but I'm refreshing it occasionally with intent to read later. For whatever that's worth.

And that's it for the First Defense of Melbourne and Krause's promotion to CAPTAIN, the image of which I should've linked in the first post to FDoM, but I didn't, cause I is a tired and a stupid.

>>7184431
Aw, now hey, if they hate you the least between fuuka/lemanruss/a-flat/whomever else, then that means all of /tg/ comparatively lurves you! And I love you too. Though that's probably a combination of my fetishes and riding the high from finishing my psyc 378 and my JapTheat Research Paper and presentation on how Guns Changed Japanese Warfare. Laughed for like thirty straight minutes after my last final for the semester. And aside from that, you seem like a decent sort, which is a welcome change from other trippers. But I digress! On with the writefaggotry!

>>7184477

It's worth something, knowing that I'm not talking to an empty room and wasting moot's money when everyone's watching Brazil or Conan (both of which I need to rent some time).

The following is a rather lovely story, full of first times- first encounter with snakemen, first use of blast launchers, and the first run in with. . . Chryssalids. Just as well. After headbutting the Russian delegate, all of the Council of Funding Nations cut back on their donations. Krause needed to get some aggression out.

Awwww, well, I try. Congrats on your finals.

Another mission, another reason others can sleep safer at night, another bunch of fucko's and nightmares I'mma see when I close my eyes... Aw, where'd you get that? Zhdanovich or Sergeant Petrov tell you already? Well thank you kindly. Here, pour yourself a glass and me two! Yeah, yeah, it went wonderfully, I'm just... Well, let me cry on your shoulder again you lovely thing you.

So there we were, soft insertion, touchdown from the Skyranger, and an easy rappel down the elevator shaft or whatever the hell the thing really is. You know what I mean. Warm. That's the first thing I remember. Not like that damn windy march for the Floater's base, or the rainy damp I think of when I go back to dropping into the sectoid base, no- a distinct warmth, with a hint of moisture behind it.

Then there was this hissing right below us. Rookie steps up, rookie steps down. One stealth-breaking cry of "JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST!" later, a can of smoke clattering against the floor, and a blasting of shots, any chance of them not knowing we were here went right out the window. "Giant... motherfucking... snake," the rookie reported back. We saw him focus the power suit's camera on the things perforated corpse. I shook my head and motioned three squaddies down- didn't take any but one rook on this mission, and he was faster than most squaddies, so he earned it. Giant snakes or red furry things with more teeth than a shark, we were sticking to the plan.

>>7184600

Much appreciated! Here's to hoping I did a tolerable job on them.

Everyone's got Powered Armor, everyone's got a smoke, a grenade, an alien grenade, a prox, and a Hi-Ex- and I elected to carry the single blaster launcher you lot- thanks again- had finished figuring out what button aims it and what button pops the shell out of the gun. Lyudmila Petrov was the newest sergeant, and raring to go. Zhdanovich was staying with me, officially keeping an eye on me for the motherfucking CFN and unofficially talking with me as to how this would play out as we stayed up out of harms way. The plan is to mine the corridors that can't be covered, and lock the rooks around each other, overlapping fields of fire, and catching any mothersuckers who'd try and play peek-a-boo. Pretty damned efficient, as it turns out- even with a few grenade scares, the snakemen were trounced by this little method.

The Chryssalids thought otherwise, and ran right through the proxies like an explosion that would punch a hole in tank underarmor was no sweat.

First one that came through was one -nasty- motherfucker- you've seen the relatively intact one we brought back. Kept taking plasma hits... Ended up falling after the fifth plasma round blasted a hole through its neck. We lost that one to a proxie I ordered planted underneath it. The second went down easier, two plasma shots. The third? Three heavy plasma shots and a Hi-Ex to drop the mothersucker. Lost its corpse to the Hi-Ex, even though it dropped it. Bright side was, we'd breached one of those Plasma Screen TV walls.

Spent a few more minutes plastering any snakemen that came out to play with heavy plasma rounds, and moved into the next phase of operations. three more came down to rock and roll, Zhdanovich came with me, and Sgt. Petrov stayed put in case we both went down hard. Two armed their Hi-Ex's, two stayed put and covered the room, and while I trotted my weighed down ass into the breach, three hardcore troopers marched in before me and took down another two snakemen, clearing the storage room beneath the command center for me.

I arrived with Zhdanovich in tow- or vise-versa depending on your viewpoint. I nodded, and the rook rushed up, stepped on the elevator pad, and I keyed into his power armor camera, sighting the silhouette he indicated. I ordered him and everyone else to pull back, and prepared to fire.

You know- I hate the aliens. Without a doubt. Never will stop hating them for what they've done, and what they keep doing. Their supposed superiority to us- and how we keep right on killing'em, over and over, and getting better at it every day. But I cannot begrudge them the Blaster Launcher. It is a work of art, humming metal that makes your hands tingle as you hold onto it, giving you not good- but the best- vibrations as you press your cheek against the warm metal and program in the waypoints.

Around a wall, past a rook, a 200 degree turn, diagonally ascending the shaft- and then the world went to black, the visors polarizing from the flash down the shaft, everyone ducking for cover as sections of the ROOF fell down on us. Sixteen blasts, over and over, one after the other. The suits under that room were definitely cooking for a moment or two, internal geiger counters going haywire before dying back down.

One of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. We dropped two more snakemen hanging around a pen of caged animals and ugly looking critters that I didn't know what they were, and we all went back up, laughing and cheering, bumping into each other- and the rook bouncing off of Petrov's suit. She took off her helmet and smiled at him. We cracked jokes all the way up, just as the sweep and clean teams were arriving underneath the Skyranger.

And that's it for Operation Third Base! What'll come next is notes on what I've done with X-Com, as well as several (dozen it feels like) pictures telling tales of their own from screencaps of the game. I'll try and fill in what I can from what I remember, because my writefaggotry isn't on this laptop.

For starters, here's the message I got in the beginning of the month I took third base (June, it was). It is appropriately labelled "Certified Badass Spoonbender", and Krause is indeed, certified as a badass spoonbender. He's just a walking talking ton of authority and asskicking. To understand what this guy is like, ponder this: Zhdanovich takes orders from him, and circumvents orders from Command when he feels like it. Badass in charge of a badass.

And here's the resultant image I would've posted for the end of Operation-Third Base if I hadn't been a forgetful loon who'd bother to read his notes every now and then.

As a note: I don't believe I ever lost a trooper when I had Krause as the highest ranking trooper in the field. He's mostly relegated to blaster bombing duty nowadays, but he still can shout commands and kick sectoid ass like nobodies business, be it in melee, heavy plasma'ing (which is dual wielded with awesome gusto), or gratiuitous blasterbombing. The results of which we'll see shortly.

This is the image for the second defense of Melbourne- a daytime terror mission if I recall. First time I had to smoke Chryssalids out of hiding. I decided to let the bombs chase them out and have them come to me. It got a bit messy.

I believe I had Zhdanovich, Petrov, and Krause all loaded up with blaster launchers from this point on- two blaster bombs in their belts, three in their backpacks, and one pre-loaded. So eighteen shots. I tended to make use of them until I ran out of bombs or I ran out of enemies.

I usually ran out of enemies first.

After being doubted and jerked around by the Council of Funding Nations for so long, he found it pretty pleasing when they grudgingly admitted he should CONTINUE being so badass as he currently was, and here's some money for you to make more blaster bombs and sell more laser cannons while you're at it. Because you're just that awesome, Krause.

Now, for the next couple months, I think I had solitary engagements- but my first encounters with Ethereals. The secret to this is to only make eye contact with scouts, then blaster bomb them into oblivion before your turn is up. And pray none of the buggers find you in their turn, and that your resistance in general is very high to mind control attempts.

It seemed that despite the civilian casualties I would always get good feedback for bombing their cities into the dust. Beautiful, lovely Paris for instance.

>I'm free! FREE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

OP, you are expected to provide updates and new material on a regular basis to satisfy the desires of the /tg/ community. Failure to do so will result in failing grades.

i couldnt get past the first couple posts, you switch tense alot, repeat words over and over, and apparantly dont know how to seperate different thoughts

>>7185034
And you don't know how to use capitals.

The next in line to get nailed by the ethereals was Berlin, Germany. I proceeded to nuke the site into the ground and make this a night time terror mission for the Ethereals who just kept getting bombs dropped on them from who knows where. When terror and fear strikes Germany- the Iron Giants of Berlin came to the rescue, great metal behemoths descending from the sky, running from rooftop to rooftop, leaving a trail of explosions in the wake of their passing lighting up the night and banishing the monsters in the shadows. The fact that these beings were rather like the Archangels of Paris was not overlooked by the UFO and weird sightings believers in the European Union.

>>7185034
>>7185054

Grammar Nazi infighting?

Fascinating. T

he English Philistines will rejoice.

>>7185029

FFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUU
>>7185034

Apologies to everyone else. To you-you little troll of a boy-I'm sad that you missed out on everything past a few tense problems, but from someone who hasn't yet learned that "alot" is two words, I think I'll just keep on posting instead of instantly revising all my written works.

The Iron Giants of Berlin were hailed as saviors. Krause and Zhdanovich proceeded to get drunk and throw a party with the scientists and the engineers, the party paid for by the government donations they received that month. There were at least four kegs. The aliens still alive in captivity couldn't sleep all night because of the noise in the base.

In September, the aliens attempted to get their shit together and decided they wanted people to stop killing them so often. They made a fatal mistake- they chose to attack to try and kill those who were killing them so often instead of retreating to a place where they would not bother humanity, and thusly humanity would not bother them. Krause grabbed his blaster launcher and proceeded to awesomeface at the idea of the aliens coming to him instead of hiding halfway around the fucking world.

>>7185218
That sounds hilariously badass.

In September of 1999, a historic achievement was made when Captain Krause and his fellow researcher Sergeant Zhdanovich found the elusive sixth shade of shit inside the remains of a Floater Commander. The X-Com forces resumed their shitkicking with gusto, and kicked six shades of shit out of the interlopers.

>>7185324
It was indeed. Some day I may decide to writefag all the missed battles up, but since I can't remember the exact specifics, I'd probably go from a third party angle of news coverage during the secret war between the aliens and X-Com operatives. No real concrete cases, just blurry footage of a lanky shadow jumping a person and dragging them into darkness screaming, or security camera footage that saw several unarmored X-Com troopers retreating and autofiring behind them before falling to the ground and screaming in terror. That sort of stuff.

>>7185385
Sounds awesome, do it!

>>7185402

Don't think I'm too good at writing right this second, it being 4:30am. But in the meantime. . .

At the end of September, the COFN said again that yes, Captain Krause is in fact doing such a wonderful job we're going to pay him even more monies to kick xenos ass. October began, and Captain Krause decided he was going to make this his busiest month ever- and plan a little treat for the aliens for Halloween.

The month started off with an ominous check in funding. . .

. . . And the first encounter with Mutons. They were not nice. They did not, in fact, sometimes die from blaster bomb hits within proximities as close as five tiles.

The Answer the the Muton Question is simple: Saturation Bombing.

This was the most blaster bombs I had ever used in a mission. A grim note indeed, but fortunately for the rest of the missions this month, there was a stockpile of blaster bombs already prepared.

The expenditure of Elerium to make these bombs was replenished- and then some- by a raid on a massive ship suspected to be a supply ship. This supply ship was promptly cracked open by several blaster bombs and the crew destroyed by heavy plasma guns and yet more blaster bombs that circled corridors and hit rooms to try and find hidden enemies.

It was at this point two things were discovered- one, that the ethereals were in charge of the alien invasion: and two, that there was an ethereal base in Africa. Krause and Zhdanovich proceeded to awesomeface.

The days rolled by and October 31st came around-

-and boy, were the aliens surprised when we came in with our costumes and our candy wagons.

We got lots of treats from that particular jaunt. But none of the treats were as tasty as what we got from the COFN.

>>7186091
Ohohohohoho~

>>7186115
I come from the future, I need to tell you that the alien base in on Mars, in the Cydonia region!

The real treat was that we weren't doing it for the money anymore- we just liked killing aliens.

Quite frankly, we were very well off at the beginning of November.

And that's how I became Colonel Matthias Krause of X-COM.

To celebrate, we had a party. And then we got drunk with the scientists and engineers after utterly trashing a snakemen base in Australia. It's kind of hazy, but I think I ran over a chryssalid while surfing on top of a tank.

And then we did a bar crawl through South America. Or rather, Zhdanovich did, Petrov tried to keep up, and I was his wingman. We ended up destroying another base in Peru, Lima full of Mutons. Good thing we were all armed with blaster launchers as well as being drunk enough to kill a sectoid if we bled on them.

Aaand that's when the Chinese revealed they'd sold themselves out to the Ethereals, to help lower their population through abduction and experimentation, provide the aliens with targets in rival nations, and gain alien secrets and technology years faster than we could retroengineer it all. Fucking commies.

And on this ominous note (Where it belongs), we begin the month of december, 1999, and end retelling the past of Colonel Matthias Krause. I think I'll post some notes, then hit the hay.

You've been awesome /tg/. Go have a mickeys or three.

Here's the image I forgot to post with the last post, as well as some notes on what Krause and his kids have done.

Alien Studies-

Dead-
Reaper Corpse
Sectoid Corpse
Ethereal Corpse
Snakeman Corpse
Chryssalid Corpse
Sectopod Corpse
Cyberdisc Corpse
Floater Corpse
Muton Corpse
Celatid Corpse
Silacoid Corpse

Related Studies-
Celatid Corpse
Silacoid Corpse

Live Studies

Sectoid Commander
Snakeman Commander
Snakeman Soldier
Snakeman Soldier
Sectoid Soldier
Sectoid Leader
Sectoid Leader
Sectoid Engineer
Sectoid Navigator
Floater Navigator
Snakeman Navigator
Floater Soldier
Floater Commander
Floater Navigator
Sectoid Medic
Sectoid Medic
Chryssalid Terrorist
Muton Soldier

Mission Dates:

First Base: 20:42, 22nd March, 1999
Second Base: 1:01 23rd April, 1999
Third Base: ??? Sometime may maybe? First Snakeman encounter
The Second Defense of Melbourne: 23:46 23rd June, 1999
The Purging of Paris- The Archangels of Paris: 17:58 26th July, 1999
The Cleansing of Berlin- The Iron Giants of Berlin: 1:27 27th August 1999
The Defense of Bravo Base: 11:22 15th September, 1999
The Bombing of Budapest/First Muton Encounter 12:49 1st October, 1999
First Large Ship Intercepted-Floater 19:15 3rd October, 1999
South American Base Located- 6th October, 1999
Australian Base Located- 8th October, 1999
Operation: Trick or Treat!- 15:42 31st October, 1999

First Base-March
Excellent 20:42, 22nd March, 1999
XCOM Promotions
Second Base- April
Truly Excellent 1:01 23rd April, 1999
Reduced Funding China
Greed of Nations
May-
Hello Beautiful- May
First Defense of Melbourne- May
Shafted- End of May
June
Certified Badass Spoonbender- 1st of June
Third Base- June
Third Base Image
Third Base Into The Breach
Operation- Third Base Conclusion- June
Melbourne2 Heavy Collateral
Melbourne Deux Devastation Top
Melbourne Deux Devastation Bottom
Krause's Vindication- End of June
July
The Purge of Paris
Paris is Pleased
August
Iron Giants of Berlin
Praise for the Iron Giants
September
When The Saints Go Marching In- Defense of Bravo Base
Do Not Fuck With Krause- Defense of Bravo Base
Begin the Fall- End September
October
Oh That's Ominous
The Muton Answer Top
The Muton Answer Bottom
The Bombing of Budapest
Brazilian Recovery- October 19:15 +40 minutes, 3rd October
Ethereal Base
Operation Trick or Treat KNOCK KNOCK
Operation Trick or Treat Conclusion THIS IS HALLOWEEN
October Payoff
Bitches and Money
November
Colonel Krause-
Australia Cleansed
Lima's Salvation
Dirty Chinese Motherfuckers- End of November
December
Oh That's Ominous

Damn... I want to play x-com now... TOTD probably, I'm a masochist.

This thread is made of awesome and win!

I raise my hat for you fine sir!

>>7186380
i streamed xcom yesterday

only two viewers ;_;

>>7186755
Awwww... If I knew I would have joined.

>>7186774
its ok, i may stream today in the night if i find my mic

>>7186824
STOP FLYING YOUR JETS OVER MY HOUSE

;_;

>>7186862
do you like the airshow? :3

>>7186992
Thats not a jet, its a penis.

>>7186992
I JUST WANT TO SLEEP, IT'S HARD ENOUGH WITH DR. THRAX TRYING TO BRING ME SOMETHING TO DRINK EVERY 2 MINUTES

I WOULD'VE FALLEN FOR THE LAST ONE IF IT HADN'T EATEN THROUGH THE BOTTOM OF THE MUG

BUMP MOTHERFUCKERS
So, who's up for an archive?

I must say, sir, that this was a most amusing read, and I'm glad it is still here after waking up.

OP......
I stayed up late playing this game as a kid. I would draw badass motherfuckers in personal armor in the margins of my homework, and most of the teachers would write home to my parents. It was one of the primary influences of my character, and all I could think as a kid was someday I could save the earth as I got kicked around the schoolyard.
I would ignore the fact that my parents were divorced, I was loathed, and that I had a tumor.
This game pulled me through.
I cried, OP.
Go get 'em.

How do I archive this? I want to archive this.

>>7189098
Manly Tears, sir.

Archivan, for the greater glory of /tg/ and X-Com. You archive by visiting this site:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/

Then you go and click ARCHIVE on the left side
You enter the thread number (7183230), a title, a description, and tags for what is in the story. And then you click
Go!