The date was January 1st, 1999. Less than a month had passed since the decision was made to formulate an elite taskforce designed to deal with the alien threat that seems to grow more and more dangerous each day. Even so, many think that it took too long. One of the largest problems was deciding a location for the base. Each representative wanted the base to be on their continent, in their country, and as close to their home town as possible.
Bunch of dumbshits.
The unlucky bunch of G-men that got stuck housing X-COM ended up, in the end, being the Canadians. They have the terrain, the resources, and a great deal of coverage across both Canada, America, most of Europe, and some of Asia.
What was the place to be called?
It was located just Northeast of Vancouver, cleverly hidden by what would appear to be a University, but was in actuality a concrete fort designed to resist just about any kind of alien attack.
X-COM, and its first men, the Alien Reaction Corps, had a home.
Each of the eight
elite and well-trained
soldiers had been pulled from their
duties without much warning, taken from their homes in some cases and brought to the ARCadium without much of a warning. When they arrived, they were greeted by a tall man, wearing not a military uniform, but a suit, and leaning on the crutch he held firmly in his right hand.
"Welcome, gentlemen and ladies, to the ARCadium. I know many of you probably have questions, and they're probably fairly valid questions, but I'm going to ignore them for now in favour of getting you all to your bunks and getting you sized for equipment and armour. We don't have a lot of time to waste." His voice was like gravel sliding into water. It showed clear signs of a military background and how relaxed he at least appeared to be.
Paul raised a hand, and started to speak. "Hey-"
The suited man thumped the ground with his cane. "Questions after. Rooms now."
Each of the new agents was escorted to their rooms by a burly security guard that looked to be more brawn than brain, and refused to answer any sorts of questions. After depositing them in their rooms, each guard took a place outside while technicians entered the rooms and measured them for kit. Immediately after they were done, the guards re-entered and escorted the eight soldiers through a twisting labyrinth of halls. Eventually, all their paths ended in the same place.
The briefing hall was strange. It had a giant circular glass viewing window in the middle that looked down to the pavement below, and the entire room held tables and cheers. All in all, it looked more like a mess hall than a high-security briefing hall, but, well, X-COM worked with what it had.
The suited man, (definitely not a gentleman,) entered the room, striding forward with his cane. He stopped just in front of the eight soldiers. "Right. Here's the quick and dirty version. You've all been selected to participate in a delightful live-combat experiment that the big-wigs have nicknamed 'X-COM.' Our mission is of course, to fight aliens."
Inevitable laughter, hysterical and disbelieving, followed his announcement. He seemed to expect it.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I can show you a dozen fucking charts, an alien corpse, and none of you sorry excuses for shit would believe it. So I'm not going to bother. If you don't believe me, tough luck. You're fighting them anyways, and Lord knows they damn well believe in you. I'm James Maxwell, and I'm your director in this forsaken hellhole of an operation. Because I don't have seconds to burn, that's all the introduction you get. Now, believe me, I don't like this next part, but you get it anyways. The big brass boys figure that if you're laying your lives on the line, you should get to pick what the hell kind of crap you're doing it with. So, boys, and ladies... pick."
The entire room went dark, and Maxwell moved to one side as the glass pane in front of them suddenly appeared to become a giant monitor, revealing a list of equipment and its respective prices.
While the soldiers dithered, Maxwell had one more look over their respective files, all displayed on a nifty little handheld device the brains had magick'd up for him.
Then he sighed.Earth was so fucked.