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It's been twenty years since anything made sense.
Twenty-three years ago, I thought XCOM was a joke. They told me that I'd been considered for an anti-alien defense force. Someone's pet project, like a zombie plan. The base was real enough, but I figured it'd all get shut down one day. Another relic gathering dust. Legend has it that there used to be a contingency plan in case the US ever got invaded by the Girl Scouts; I figured aliens must be the next threat on the list.
Back then, you were just a photo and a CV in our databanks. We all were. Just a list of hypothetical candidates waiting for the worst-case scenario. And then, it happened.
It's been twenty-one years since the Kiryu Kai's false positives. On closer inspection it was nothing but satellites, earthshine, and marsh gas on their sensors; I was convinced that keeping watch for aliens was a waste of time and money. Then the first of them touched down in Germany and started shooting. Humanity shot back. We won our first victory, minor as it was: the first drop of alien blood spilled on planet Earth. It wouldn't be the last.
I got the call at 2 AM. They were activating the XCOM Project. Not a drill, not this time. I remember checking the calendar, just in case I'd forgotten it was April Fool's Day. No such luck. Then I thought it was a nightmare, that I'd wake up in a world where aliens are only fiction. Not real invaders, on Earth, murdering civilians in the streets.
Again...no such luck.
It's been twenty years since I met you. Twenty years since I understood what kind of person it would take to save the planet, to lead us all to victory over the invaders. I looked into your eyes, and I never doubted you. I knew you'd save us all. And then we racked up failure after failure. The aliens were just too strong.
It's been twenty years since I failed you, since I lay there, bleeding and helpless, since I watched the invaders drag you off. I didn't have the strength to stop them. Hell, I barely had the strength to breathe. I don't know how I made it out of there. I'll admit, there've been times I wished I hadn't.
And I feared the worst. I didn't know if they'd execute you on the spot or if they thought you'd be worth more to them alive. Turns out, they had plans for you.
It's been twenty years since Earth surrendered, since the countries we fought for were dissolved by ADVENT. It's been nineteen years since it finally sank in; this was not a nightmare. We lost, the world ended, and we were stumbling through the aftermath.
It's been sixteen years since I gave up. Stopped trying to contact whatever resistance was left. Ran away from the shiny little cages that the aliens called cities. I found a hole to crawl into and I tried to drink away the survivor guilt. I prayed you weren't dead. I prayed this wasn't how humanity was going to end. I prayed our hope was out there somewhere, waiting to be found.
The others scattered to the wind. We still don't know what's become of Vahlen. I do know Shen never gave up. He fought until the end, traded his dying breath for a fighting chance against the aliens. Shen was a good man. A better man than me. His daughter's more than eager to carry on that legacy.
It's been six months since we learned you were alive and breathing, albeit wired into the aliens' Psionic network and still fighting their war inside your head. We didn't know what would be left of you, when we rescued you and pulled you out. But we knew we had to try.
I don't know how much you remember. As your subordinate, I'm supposed to wonder if you've retained any strategic insight on the aliens, if you're still fit for command. But all I want to know is what it was like for you, and which would be worse: living through the fall of Earth or sleeping through it, unaware, to wake up one day to have the awful truth crash down on you all at once.
Either way, I know you're strong enough to handle it. You'll have to be.
It's been a few hours since I pulled you out of that tube. I've forgotten what it's like, to feel alive. Felt like it's been twenty years since my heart stopped beating. Then it started pounding in my chest like it was trying to make up for lost time.
It's been a few minutes since you opened your eyes. I looked at you and I prayed I'd see you staring back, that you weren't too far gone after whatever it was they did to you. And you looked up at me, and you asked where you were, and if we have coffee, and what happened to me while you were out. You're a little worse for wear, of course. But Tygan's cognitive assessments say you're alert and functional. We still don't know the full extent of what they've done to you, but Tygan says you're back. That's all that matters.
I'm still not sure how much to tell you. About myself, I mean. I hope you'll see me as your central officer, not some worn-down drunk. You'll hear it all eventually, but in the meantime I'm trying not to ruin the illusion.
The point is, it's been twenty years since all this started and the end is finally in sight. Tomorrow, we'll bring the fight to them. And, this time, we won't back down.
And I've been waiting twenty years to say this: welcome back to XCOM HQ, Commander.