June 22nd, 2017 AD
… Well… I’ve shown my colors. The unluckiest man on the planet and I’m here because the only other guy that could take my place is needed more. Well… memory lane is ahead, and I’m going to hate it.
What I would sacrifice to avoid the torture that is my childhood. I never truly had a childhood. I was the person that the others would avoid or make fun of. I was the one who was different in the classroom. My post-school activities were dominated by homework and therapy. My family as dysfunctional at times but we always pulled through… until that day I shall hate with all my heart… the day everything went wrong.
After that day, started to become suicidal; my entire life had changed for the worst, as I was the center of a rather nasty divorce. I was the cause of the divorce. I never slept well again and I would never truly be happy until I was far older, and even then, I couldn’t get that happiness that was pre-divorce. I just look like it. The pain eats you, you know. The pain of being in the center of a nasty divorce of the two who you considered your parents… it never truly goes away. It would eat you; it will try to consume you but it is never truly visible. I was always plagued by an inescapable headache for the entirety of my life and I’ve always thought it was because of the pain.
Then start adding the pains of two years of war against the Ethereal threat and you can say I am a very broken man. I was only a man who was fucked over because I was immune to the alien’s abduction techniques. I was sent to the labs for testing and somehow MELD got out due to some explosion. I, a bunch of scientists, and a dozen others like me were bathed in the stuff.
We became that breakthrough they needed to understand MELD completely. However, unlike the others who became super-men, I was just simply peak-human and my headaches got far worse than they ever had. Months later, I find out that Great Falls, Montana was wiped off the map and Montana was ripped apart.
I finally broke that day and they forced me into a spare alien containment chamber so I wouldn’t commit suicide. It took months for XCOM’s best psychologists to ‘heal’ me. Then I poured everything into the only things I had left… my stuffed rabbit Chum and XCOM. I became a soldier, always taking the worst missions and the most lopsided odds. Strike One became “Rico’s Maniacs”, an entire unit whose job is simply take the worst missions, the worst odds, and turn them into victories.
You couldn’t find a crazier unit of misfits and revenge driven death seeking psychos like Rico’s Maniacs… and Central used us as the ultimate force multiplier. Rico Santiago is the leader of Rico’s Maniacs, aka Strike 1, and we had a poor Finish bastard as our second. He bit it six months after the unit’s roster solidified. Some Thin Man fucktard killed him with a light plasma rifle. I became second in command after some poor German ninja guy got splattered because he had a too close of an encounter with a Sectopod not eight months after he got to the position.
We got answers to the mysterious power that some of the aliens used a good year and three months after the entire war started. Everyone underwent the psionic testing process at that point and it was found that I was the only person in that MELD accident that had psionic potential, and far greater than anything XCOM encountered up to that point. The only good thing that came out of it was that the headaches were gone, permanently.
Then the pains started again… for eight months we’ve fought, changed the course of the war. Then the end game came, the very reason that I am on this dying ship. This was the alien’s HQ and Central sent everything they could throw at the ship. The Maniacs went through the most fucked up portion of the ship, secured several holographic hard drives while we’re at it, and slaughtered our way to the command center of the ship.
After we killed their leader, Rico was going to sacrifice himself but I told him no and threw the Maniacs out of the room.
It might sound cliché but maybe this is what the 10th Doctor felt when he was undergoing his regeneration…
I really didn’t want to go… but I must. I must because mankind is worth saving. That humanity will grow out of this. Thankfully, they would understand why all of this happened… where all their slaves were from… that it wasn’t their fault but the fault of these Ethereal fuck-jobs.
Now let’s get this hunk of junk into orbit, shall we?
“Elerium Generator Sector 2, SCRAM failed. Containment breach imminent; evacuate all decks,” stated the ship’s AI.
I kept pushing myself to the limit, forcing the gargantuan ship into orbit. “Keep going you piece of crap,” I snarked to myself, “You can do your nova impression when we get into high orbit!” Soon enough, not knowing how high I’ve put the ship, the entire ship collapsed upon itself, the intricate network of metal alloy frames and plates and bulkheads collapsing as the force of the beating the ship took on the inside finally came to a head.
Then everything went black as the symphony of explosions battered my ears…
Crystal Empire, March PNR 1000
The situation is desperate. Sombra was literally battering the gates of the Crystal Empire with his horrific crystals… and much to Shining Armor's surprise, the Grand Cathedral's legendary crystal bells started ringing. Shining Armor -due to being the stallion-friend -and later husband- to the heir of the Crystal Empire- read upon the legends of the Crystal Empire… and the Crystal Ponies practically stampeding towards the castle indicated that the legend of the Crystal Bells had some truth to it.
The legend was simple, due to its shear age. The bells of the Grand Cathedral of Faust were no ordinary bells. The bells themselves were a byproduct of eons of work between the groups of the three pony tribes that would later become the Crystal Ponies. Each bell was hoof-crafted by powerful crystalline magic, and the unicorns added powerful runes into their very structure while the pegasi created the special floor -using unknown pegasi magic- needed to ensure that the bells were safe during crafting. It was said that every time that the entire chorus of bells rang, a hero was to appear during the darkest hour of the Empire. The legends stated that the last time the chorus rang of their own accord; a hero came to stop Sombra from taking over the Empire.
The hero died… but not before crippling Sombra and thus giving him his distinctive red crystalline horn.
The ringing also got the attention of Sombra as well.
“So… they ring again. A small matter,” Sombra evilly snickered, “Now to get rid of you and then get to my throne.” Shining knew what Sombra meant and immediately dodged the coming avalanche of razor-sharp black crystals. Shining frowned as the pain in his horn intensified as Sombra's magic infested the sensitive body part further.
“Is this the end?” Shining Armor thought to himself in fear, “Will I never see my foal? Never see who my little sister finds as her special somepony? Is this where I die?” Shining Armor closed his eyes, preparing for the end when he heard a loud clang. Shining opened his eyes to see his mysterious savior. The being was clearly descended from a monkey, that was for sure, but the armor and weaponry was something to behold in of itself but the most incredible part is that the being had a dark violet aura around him. The aura felt… unnatural… in a sense… but while the aura gave Shining the chills, it was the numerous holes and gashes that leaked what is clearly blood that was cause for alarm.
“I don't know how I got here, but since your trying to end this poor thing's life, I'm going to assume that you’re an enemy,” the being labored but smiling, “Now, pick someone your own size for a change.” The aura intensified, creating a wave of unknown energy that obliterated Sombra's crystals in a single moment and threw Sombra into the city's walls. Hard.
“Eh, the last Hero of the Bells was capable,” Sombra frowned, remembering the last time the Bells called forth a hero, “but he was easy once I got a hold of him. You, however, I know will be a challenge.” Sombra then started casting numerous blasting spells through his distinctive horn as he maneuvered to a better position, hoping to get the 'hero' into a bad spot.
The hero then started to smile… but the smile felt… malevolent. Dark. Horrifying. Even Sombra thought as much as his face was one of confusion and, dare saying it, fear.
That was when the being vanished out of sight -pulling out a sword of some kind-, moving far too fast for Shining to track. That was when Sombra conjured his infamous sword and started moving at extraordinary speeds.
Sombra’s combat prowess was said to be more than enough to stalemate the Princesses but to see it in action was something else. Even more awe inspiring was the fact that the ‘hero’ was literally equaling -if not surpassing- Sombra at his own game. The sound of clashing swords rang across the streets and above the buildings as the two clashed. Explosions were numerous and the destruction was vast. Buildings were smashed as spells and whatever the mysterious being used missed their mark. Windows shattered as their combined energy output leaked into the world around them.
Despite Shining’s expert eye, it wasn’t obvious on who would win the running battle. Even the few times that Princess Celestia personally trained the Solar Guard didn’t compare to this. Such power being displayed without care, and yet with one purpose…
That was when Sombra got the upper hand. The conjured sword shattered the hero’s sword then pierced the armor the being wore with extreme prejudice, sending a small spray of blood onto a nearby wall. Yet… the being wasn’t easily put down. With blood slowly gushing out of the wound, the being pulled the conjured sword out of its body and then crushed it with its hands.
“Impossible!” Sombra yelled in horror, “You shouldn’t be even alive after that!” The last Hero of the Bells died almost instantly with a wound like that, let alone the numerous poisons and curses embedded into the blade. Sombra’s heart froze -skipping beats for seconds at a time- as the being started laughing maniacally. In the being’s free hand, the dark violet energy that the being commanded gathered into something between a fully conjured construct and solidified magic. Something thought to be only in the dominion of the Princesses, given that their most prized weapons were almost the same. As the dark ethereal energies gathered, the weapon took shape. It was a massive weapon to say the least; and if it was a weapon made with more conventional methods, it would have a weight impossible for even the strongest Minotaur to lift, let alone utilize in any shape or form.
That was when more beings -this time in an ethereal white- showed up around Sombra. All of them pissed. That was when Sombra finally realized that he wasn’t fighting something of a more conventional nature… His train of thought was disrupted as the being started to charge, crossing the distance in mere seconds. Sombra barely got out of the way as the being slammed the weapon into the street with incredibly devastating force, sending shattered crystalline cobblestone into the air.
Sombra felt complete dread for the first time in his life. The Bells had reached out for a hero… and that hero is a dracul… and now Sombra has made that same dracul resolve itself to making sure that he died by its hand as the dracul’s lifeforce faded away. If there is anything that Sombra learned in his many centuries of life, it is the difficulty of surviving a dracul that has a death wish. Compared to that, the Princesses were easy.
Sombra quickly maneuvered as the being tried to make contact with its weapon. Celestia and Luna had centuries to perfect their unique weapons, but the being’s form is -for lack of a better description- only months into a heavily modified polearm training regimen.
That was when Sombra saw the impossible: the famous crystal buildings caught on fire. Sombra -intimately knowing the spells and magic that went into the buildings- shuddered at the sight of burning crystal as the being willed itself to move forward with a maniacal grin plastered on its face.
Backed to a corner, tired and battered, Sombra knew his number was up… but he wasn’t going to go without his killer going with him to Tardus. Sombra looked upward towards his enemy one last time but all he saw was disgust. That was when he felt his very soul was being forced into the crystalline horn. Sombra cursed his luck, the being somehow figured it out… how to remove him from this body! Sombra tried to charge but he couldn’t, his entire body felt like it was stone.
That was when Sombra screamed… and a bright flash engulfing the Crystal Empire’s capital…
Author's Note
Alright ladies and gents, my first story here on the site. 
If you want to know, a while back in Spacebattles there was a fellow poster with a friend that was suffering from depression. Reminded me of my own battles with the horror back when my parents were divorced and I was in the god damn center of it. So... with XCOM on the brain and some unresolved bits of my depression still hanging over my head. Given the current political climate, instead of drinking myself into an early demise, I've decided to give more work to this.
EDIT:
Now, to put things into perspective, in Starcraft, powerful Protoss can overclock their abilities and become an Archon. In doing this, the user becomes 'the brightest star' in terms of psionic power... but by becoming the brightest star, the user burns out the quickest, literally perma-killing the user (in pre-Legacy of the Void eras of the Protoss, the Kaala can store a Protoss's entire life and archive it for future reference via Preservers or in the case of the 'Dark Templar' sect, special psionically attuned crystals).
This is what happened to the Volunteer in this instance.
