When I kick the door in, Bradford looks up from what could be an operator’s manual or a Bible. “Can I help you, Kennedy?”
I slap the dossier on his desk. “How about we boot that mission computer back up, sir? What do you say you and me make a few last-minute changes to this little outing you’ve put together?”
“If you have a problem with the objective…”
“Oh, I’m sure I have a problem with our objective, but never mind that. You want me to get shot trying to,” I glance at the first page, “get one of the council’s bowling partners out of enemy territory, sure, I’ll go drop into whatever snake pit he’s fallen into. Fair enough! This is, apparently, what I signed up for–put the condolence letter in the mail already. But I will be damned if the first line of that letter is going to read that Rachel Kennedy was killed in Operation WINTER STANK.“
“It won’t. The mission codename is classified.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Winter STANK?”
“It’s randomly generated.”
“Generated from a list? Who wrote this list? What giggling syphilitic clown manually entered ‘stank’ as a thing to engrave on XCOM tombstones? Please tell me he’s on this fucking Avenger. Give me a bunk number.”
“Don’t you have a drop to prepare for?”
And so humanity’s greatest enemy remains at large. Fisher, if I don’t make it back today, promise me you’ll finish what I started.
Continue reading 〉〉 “Unfit for XCOMmand CH2: Winter Stank”
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