4656/Spirit Crusher

Spirit Crusher
Date of Scene:	10 October 2016
Location:	ADVENT Earth <XCOM>
Synopsis:	Drowned Ophelia had stolen a man from the XCOM Commander. Now that man is coming home - changed.
Cast of Characters:	975, 1046, 62

---

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Evening time in a small fuel depot on a major road towards a City Center in what was formally Kansas. Relatively quiet, the bright moon hangs over empty fields of dying wheat, the fireflies fighting for control over the even pulses of - emergency lights. A small Advent deployment truck - little more than a canopy over a bed attached to a massive engine - is sitting skewed in the middle of the road. Lights are on in the fuel station, but nothing human wandering openly around. Just fireflies bouncing slowly, and the hesitant chorus of crickets.
Occasionally a bit of static will hiss from the Advent truck, its doors open wide - the keys are even still in the ignition. The scanning pole nearby flickers yellow as it sweeps the ground in a circular pattern, the typical layout of a single light above it broken. A small spark falling on occasion, but whatever happened here is either old - or still occuring.

Samira Amirmuaz (1046) has posed:
    It didn't take long for there to be a response from XCOM, both from the radio and in person. Twenty minutes after the initial transmission, the telltale scream of the Skyranger's powerful engines overpowers all other sounds as it comes into view over the fuel depot. Initial scans didn't reveal anything outright hostile, so Firebrand lands twenty meters north of the truck's position, up the road.

    Not a minute after landing, the ramp drops down; the Commander herself has taken the field, seemingly by herself... Though she's by no means unarmed. She's taken a rifle from the armory with her, along with her ever-present Colt Python still comfortably stuck to her thigh. Her rifle is raised and ready as she makes her way towards the vehicle, always working to check any blind spots she might notice, moving in a slow half-crouch. "Hausmann!" She hisses quietly. "Whatever you may be, demon or no, come out. You have taken the time to call me. There is no use in being coy now."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The Skyranger tics as the metal cools down, the Commander's positioning as apt as always; But then again, she -was- the tactical genius who could turn a ragtag group into something - well, something more dangerous than a rag tag group. But beyond the sweep of the scanning poles, nothing else moves. The soft click-click of the truck's emergency lights, the buzz of night insects. That is, until Samira finally speaks. The crickets lower their sound, and then - one by one - begin to fade away. The gentle click and snap of the occasional animal dying as well, the whole world seeming to hold its breath.
And then the radio static hisses back to life, voices jumbling over each other as it rolls across frequencies. And finds something; The tiny sound of 'Spirit Crusher' by an ancient band, long before the Advent arrival. But such stations had long since been shut down for propoganda announcements and Advent Burger jingles! The shocks on the advent truck squeak softly as it shifts. A wet gagging noise, bone bopping like ligaments coming loose. ".. Oh Commander!" Hausmann's voice. But something's different; It's hoarser, dried and cracked, like the man had been dying of thirst. "Honestly, I didn't expect -you- personally to come. You must really miss me."

A dry, husky chuckle, before something slides out of the back of the truck; An Advent trooper. Something wet and dark on its lips, splattering its chin. "H-hey.. sorry about running off before. You now how it is. You get spooked, you go looking for somewhere to hide - you get your heart pulled out... oh, you have no idea how much that hurt." Still no sign of the THING that was Twitch, although his voice sounds from the truck's bed itself.

Samira Amirmuaz (1046) has posed:
    The Commander stops immediately when the world is suddenly going quiet... For a moment, she wonders if perhaps she was going deaf somehow. No black fog here, though. After a moment, she continues ahead cautiously, perfectly aware that this was a trap. At least she knew that if things /really/ went bad, she had backup from Leroy's XCOM ready to give support. But would it really come to that?

    The music belting out of the ADVENT transport is what seals it for her; she'd been lured here by the foul demonic /thing/ that had taken him in the first place. Why it hadn't simply tried to kill her when she stepped out was beyond her. Then she heard his voice... Her teeth grit tightly together as she starts going around the truck in a wide circle. It'd be stupid to approach the truck too closely. "I have always looked after my soldiers, Hausmann. Or do you prefer 'Ophelia'? I am not foolish enough to believe you would simply be returned to me without some kind of control."

    Quick on the draw, the moment that the ADVENT trooper slides out of the truck bed in her vision, she fires on it with a quick burst aimed directly at center-mass. "I am not a plaything for you to toy with, creature," Samira says coldly. Provided she's sure the Trooper is down, she continues circling to try to see into the back of the truck... clicking on the flashlight underneath the rifle's barrel. "If you wish to keep playing games, I have no trouble with giving the order to purify this site."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"No Ophelia here, boss."

Comes the dry, husked voice as Samira circles; The Advent trooper screeches as it's shot, coming out of whatever stupor it was put in; Clutching at its throat, however, rather than the bullet wounds. Something vile and black bubbling from its mouth, before it goes slack again; A foul smoke slowly curling upwards. When she flicks the light on, she'll see - well, Hausmann. Sort of. His attire has changed; Someone's put him in an Vietnam-era costume, complete with rifle and bayonet. Both of which are still slung over his shoulder. A round metal helmt sits on his skull, with 'Kill The Born' and 'Last Stop For Sorrow' drawn on it with grease paint beneath the webbed canopy. His flesh is pale; Black veins run through the sunken flesh, like the last stages of a heroine addict. But his fingers drip red, as does another Advent trooper at his feet. He keeps his head down, the light casting a hard line right across the bridge of his broken nose.
"J-just me. I'm still 'Twitch', Commander" Cracked lips split into a mad smile, even as he gestures down. "Just without all the twitchy. Nothing scares me much anymore. Whatcha think of my handy work?" A gesture down to the last trooper. "-She- wants to see what they're made of before they do something stupid, like ask the bed wetters for an alliance. She's got free reign on anything not .." A wave of a hand upwards, gore sprinkling the inside of the canvas. ".. from out there or joined. Oh, the sights I've -seen-, Commander. The things I've -heard-. This place is so much bigger than Earth and lousy fucking humans and stupid fucking Advent. It hurts so fucking much.."
"But at least it's my hurt. There's things out there that can end this war; End it forever. Put out the lights, put the chairs on the table and call it a night." A single black tear works its way down the side of Hausm- of Twitch's nose, his eyes still hidden.

Samira Amirmuaz (1046) has posed:
    A sick feeling rises in Samira's stomach, watching the grotesque display happening right in front of her. Seeing Hausmann arise out of the ADVENT corpse like some kind of possessing spirit does elicit a response, though... Namely, falling back a couple steps. Hausmann looks like the fucking Damned, that's for certain, and Samira's not willing to let it get anywhere near her for fear of what an errant touch might do to her.

    "Bullshit," the Commander growls from behind grit teeth. "Hausmann was a human man, a good man who wanted to save his planet in spite of his fear. This is nothing but a mockery! You sully his good name by merely existing in this state." Of course, she knows just how wide the conflict had become for them; it was no longer a planetary issue, but a Multiversal one. She'd learned that the hard way two days ago. "That may be so. But it is a conflict worth fighting for our home. If you were human, you would understand."

    He advocates for an easy way out: to just destroy the planet, or the life upon it, and put an end to the entire thing. She shakes her head once, a scowl making her disapproval clear. "We will end this war on our terms. We /will/ fight until this planet is free. That is the promise I have made - that XCOM has made. You won't persuade me to stop it because you lack the will to actually fight for what you love and believe in. Ending it all is the /coward's way/."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Stop fighting? I don't want you to stop fighting, and neither does she."

States 'Twitch', finally tilting his head back. There are no eyes; Empty sockets, with the ebon fluid dripping along his cheeks. Black Tears. "Can't you -see-, commander? She wants you to fight -harder-." That mad smile is matched with an equally mad laugh, as 'Hausmann' points down at the Troopers. "See that? You see what I fucking did with my -thumbs-? -Me-. Deidrech 'blow my own cock off if I twitched' Hausmann. You think I don't know what they were saying behind my back? Everyone speaks a little english." Whatever accent 'Twitch' once had is still there, but his phrasing is distinctly American now.

"Listen to me, damn it; How far are you willing to go?" His voice lowering, conspiracy. He takes a knee, placing a hand on the Trooper's still chest. His empty eye sockets once more hidden from view by the metal helmet as he whispers. "The Black Tears; They hurt. They hurt forever, but they'll give us power. Strength to crack the Advent. Chase them off this planet - chase them back home. Break their nests or their eggs or larvae or babies or whatever the fuck they do to spawn. We can turn off their lights, Commander."
Deidrich looks up again, the soft patter of sable falling from his cheeks. Despite his smile. "Easy as flipping off a fucking switch. They fear death just like we do.. just like I did. Sorrow is there, behind those fucking metal staples in their brains. The waters can rise; The waters can drown them all. All -we- have to do is let it. Open the fucking floodgates; Let the dark fingers of the Black Waters touch. -Her- world did it once; They broke the back of their demons, just like we can to ours."
A lie - in a manner of speaking. No one likes talking about what came next; But shhhh.
"Don't you see, Commander? I ... failed you.. I fucked up. I know I did.." The tears come more freely, now. ".. But I came back! I came back for her, and for you. I came back to show you I'm -not- just a fuck up. Look what I found! I found -the fucking End-. All we have to do is -point- it and pull the trigger. Commander.."

Samira Amirmuaz (1046) has posed:
    Fight harder, he says. As if they weren't already fighting their hardest before. Perhaps whatever infection Ophelia had given him strengthened him in some way; Samira can see the evidence of it right in front of her face. Yet she remembers the people in her past, and now with her in the present. Dr. Shen, the brilliant man who believed that humanity could win on their terms. Dr. Vahlen, who was willing to go places other feared to tred, all to give humanity a fighting chance. On their own terms. The same went for Dr. Tygan and Lily.

    Times were hard, but everyone believed that XCOM could win without having to sacrifice their humanity in the process. With their inventions, their skills, their determination. Samira listens to the spiel, but in the end she knows that sacrifices will be made... but they have to be the /right sacrifices/. Enslaving themselves to this foul darkness was not the correct way to go.

    "You didn't fail me, Hausmann," she tells him softly. Her own waterworks have started... a solitary tear coming from her right eye. "You stepped up when few others would, in spite of yourself. Perhaps you were a coward. YOu were afraid. But you stepped up and tried to fight regardless. It was all I could ever ask of you."

    Samira lets the rifle drop and hang from it's strap around her shoulder, brushing away the tear on her face with her left hand. "You did find it... The end. But I'm afraid it was only the end for you. Hausmann... I am relieving you of your duties, soldier."

    Quick as a flash, Samira draws the revolver stuck on her thigh and points it directly at the cursed man's head... Then pulls the trigger. Few things could stop a .44 Magnum round. Maybe his newfound powers would save him. Samira can only hope it's not the case. "Go to God. Find peace in his arms, and strength knowing that we will save this planet in our own way."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The creature called 'Twitch' doesn't have time to - well, TWITCH - when the Commander pulls leather and lays a bullet right through the brain pain. The metal helmet is no protection; It was rotted and rusted anyways, beneath the green paint, likely looted from some abandoned human museum on ADVENT Earth. His head jerks sideways, shoulder slumping - but he doesn't fall. Not just yet. Black lumps pour down the side of his face like spilled porridge, evidence of the mess that .44 has made of his brain pan. But who said METAL FANS need their fucking brains?!

Although he does at last turn his head up. No eyes, lips working for a moment. The black ichor spilling wordlessly from his lips, the mad smile gone. A moment of lucidity.
".. Thanks, C-Commander.."
And then he finally slumps forward, across the Advent Trooper he killed. Taking with him the wicked promise of the Queen of Tears, a way to end all wars - by killing everything that makes war, of course.

The radio in the truck continues to hammer out the tinny sound of ancient DEATH METAL for a moment more, before static eats away at it. And then it flicks back off. Somewhere, in the silence, as the sound of a bullet echoes away - crickets begin to sing once more. The Black Tears sinking into the earth, leaving a mascara stain as they go.

Samira Amirmuaz (1046) has posed:
    For a moment, Samira is about to fire off the rest of her rounds into poor Hausmann's face, just to make sure that whatever thing had taken him wouldn't have anything left to torture when she was finished. She soon notes, however, that it's unnecessary. She can see Hausmann - the true Hausmann - in that bleak moment after his brains started to run down his face like lumpy, sick oil. Holstering her revolver, she makes sure to give him a send-off salute before he goes.

    Once she's sure that her job here is finished, Samira turns from the bodies and takes up her rifle - firing one last burst into the transport's radio console to force that obnoxious music to just shut up. What was left to make sure that whatever this corruption was, it didn't remain. Thankfully, Big Sky's team is ready and waiting to purge.

     Then she's going for the Skyranger... expression a neutral mask while she climbs up the ramp and slaps the button to make it close. It only takes a couple seconds for Firebrand to re-heat the engine and prepare for takeoff. Engines scream as the VTOL aircraft lifts off and starts traveling back to the Avenger.

Elise Leroy (62) has posed:
    Another Skyranger is in the area, at the far reaches of range. It's engines idling to keep it in a slowly orbiting holding pattern around the fuel depot. Radio communication between Commander Amirmuaz and this other Skyranger eventually leads to a side hatch sliding open. Behind this hatch, a Russian trooper in Carapace armour kneels, shouldering a four-tube rocket launcher. Another hatch slides open on the opposite side of the craft to allow the backblast to vent. "Get to minimum safe distance Commander. Shots inbound!" radios Nuke, before squeezing off all four shots, spreading them across the depot. Two for the truck, and two for the depot itself. These rockets detonate in a conflagration, dispersing sticky napalm-like oil which catches light and burns with a brilliantly purifying flame.