sometimes when you want a job done right... you write Bradford yourself (spoilers for Sympathy for the Devil)
The more things changed, the more Bradford wondered if he'd stayed the same.
Peace was a great time to live in. Post-war, with Avenger's Landing established… Bradford hadn't expected to be able to retire to his little village in the middle of nowhere, Scotland, but life over the past 20 years had been full of twists and turns. It felt like he never would see the end of it, would never have found the Commander, put an end to all the horror…
Not that he was complaining. It was nice to sleep in a recliner.
But there were some features to the peace that kept coming back to him and making him wonder about the past. When his own body began to fail him and that piece of shrapnel from the start of 2035 finally came back calling, he'd opted to go through the same process Eliza did and fortify himself. Become a Chosen. He'd always wanted to remain at Eliza's side, and why not make sure that could be for as long as he wanted? Gave him plenty of strength to deal with anything if any aliens thought they could try for round two instead of just asking nicely.
Maybe it was just his hunches, but it felt like the prep work for round two was just around the corner.
It wasn't something he had meant to overhear. Mordenna was a chatty guy, prone to talking to himself, and Bradford kept an ear out for what he was saying just in case the man himself needed someone checking in on him. If not Bradford himself, he'd send Eliza his way. That was how Bradford learned second hand that Argus was planning to open a gene clinic in all but name.
It… bothered him. It bothered him a lot. It bothered him enough that he found himself returning to the Avenger itself, walking the halls to sort his thoughts in his mind.
Twenty years. Twenty years, he had seen the Elders build up ADVENT, big up the cities. Glorify the gene clinics. Yes, for some people, having all of their aches and pains taken away was truly revolutionary. In ways, Bradford was jealous of anyone that had come away from a gene clinic unharmed and with what ailed them cured. But they were the luckiest. He knew that even if the Elders didn't do anything to you immediately? You had to be chipped. You had to be tracked, you could no longer leave the cities. You needed the gene clinics now to maintain treatment and for "check ins". Check ins he knew people who had gotten lucky once had disappeared on. They had all of the logs—he knew the things for the chambers of death and processing they really were.
And yet. Bradford could very much see the appeal of the gene clinics. He didn't blame anyone who had gone to see one, especially if it was their only option versus death or a lifetime of pain. He… he just knows what sort of terrible things happened in there. The people who were disappeared without a trace, either for being "conspirators" or because they happened to be the exact genetic makeup that the Elders had needed. Whatever the case, for all of their miracles? Bradford couldn't associate them with anything else but missing persons posters.
So here he was, pacing the Avenger. Wondering how much everything had changed.
This was Argus they were talking about. The one Ethereal that had turned their back on all the others in protest of what was being done. Bradford knew they knew the full extent of the gene clinics. He knew that they likely weren't going to be able to resume old operations with XCOM breathing down their neck. His gut also wasn't really certain there was anything wrong; just his deep-seated beliefs. It was something that Jane was looking over and he was certain Eliza had to have heard about before. Surely it was fine. Surely…
Bradford's psionics then helpfully reminded him his hunch of not being able to brood alone was correct.
As he was in the Bridge, looking at the low-power mode displays, the door opened. Like old times, Eliza was ducking in, smiling as she saw him. "Knew I saw you come out this way. On the warpath again, John?"
Bradford scoffed amiably, and as Eliza came up he kissed her cheek, always happy to be able to do that without having to be lifted now. "You could say that. I don't think anything needs to change, but… I can't help but think about the way things used to be."
Eliza nodded knowingly, looking at the Hologlobe's table. "You heard about Argus's clinic, I take it?" When Bradford sighed in affirmation, she went on. "For what it's worth, I was nervous too. I hear about one of those being opened up again and it makes me wanna go up the chain of command for who approved it and look for spies. Unfortunately, unless there's more we need to learn about Jane, everything seems above board."
Bradford leaned on the railing. "And that's what I want. I want things to be fine, I want this to be what the gene clinics were advertised as. The way to cure the human condition, to end pain that we shouldn't have to go through. I want that." He rubbed his mouth. "… the minute someone goes missing…"
"I know." Eliza leaned and kissed Bradford's forehead. "… I know."
"I know I'm being stubborn," he muttered. "My psionics aren't even going off at it. It's probably fine." He sighed. "I better get this under control before I talk to anyone who could use it…"
"I think everyone could do with some healthy skepticism," Eliza countered. "Growing up, I was told that if something sounded too good to be true, it likely was." Advice she wished she had listened to when the recruiter came to town. "Yeah we live in an advanced age and I look like one of your sci-fi babes now—" "Stop." "—but I think Argus wouldn't mind a few questions. If anything, could be a good chance to go visit them in person and see things for yourself. You know you're not gonna rest until you do."
That was right, and Eliza had him read like a book. "… I just don't want it turning into hate for the people who genuinely could use them. I think about some of the things I said back during the war, and I still stand by the gene clinics being living hells. But…" His mind flashed back to the citizens he had spoken to who had gotten lucky. Who had everything cured for them, and were angry that XCOM could ever take away ADVENT and the "lifesaving equipment" they had experienced.
"Bradford." Eliza gently turned to him. "… we both saw the Blacksite. The Forge. We know where people were going. We know just what they were fronts for. You're not wrong for thinking they're places of evil. Just as the people who got very, very lucky and only got chipped may think it's technology that should be preserved. Both parts are true. But no system exists in a vacuum."
No system did. The gene clinics sounded amazing until you remembered they were in the hands of ADVENT. The people who literally conquered the planet. Bradford couldn't wrap his head around how any of them really trusted the Elders to not do anything to them when they walked in, but then again, he figured some of them didn't have much of a choice. Didn't make some of them any less insufferable, though. Glad they're alive to enjoy our victory. "Yeah. Just… ugh. I'm gonna have to see that place for myself. Drop in."
Eliza hugged him, and he could feel her psionics gently wrap around his. "We can go together. Call it a little day trip out of the house…? We could bring Asaru and Shamash to really press to Argus they shouldn't try anything."
"Heh. That sounds good by me." Bradford would take more time with his son. "… hey. Thanks for coming after me like this. Sometimes, I… I think I know what's right. I'm sure I do. But I've seen the way some people react when we save them, and… you get it."
"Trust me, Bradford. We all understand." She parted from him, smiling lightly. "Now. It's supper time, and I'm sure part of the reason your gut is in a twist is because you only had coffee for breakfast and skipped lunch?"
Bradford grumbled. "I'm a Chosen, I literally don't need to anymore."
"Your face suggests otherwise. C'mon. I'm craving hash browns."
With a chuckle, Bradford followed after his Commander once more. The more things changed, the more Bradford stayed the same.
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