Green Fields (Barter)

[thehonorablebat]

Summary: The second story I ever posted.

Before XCOM's victory over ADVENT, there was twenty years of struggle. Bradford isn't sure how he survived it.

A loose collection of snippets, pre-X2.

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Growing up, Bradford had spent his time between his parents’ apartment in the city and his grandfather’s farm. Well, he called it a farm, and it had certainly looked like the land went on forever and ever when he was a little kid. In reality it was only just big enough for two horses and a large garden.

And the moonshine.

Granddad had sworn him to secrecy when he was ten about the bootleg alcohol business he ran on the side. Money was tight, he said, and the government was raising the price on everything. Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever tell your parents a word about this.

Then he showed him how it was done.

It was a type of knowledge that never really came in handy in his early life. He joined the military right after high school like everyone else in his family. From there he had been recruited into Intelligence. He was never hurting for cash. He didn't need to make his own booze.

It wasn’t until he was on the run that he truly appreciating the lessons his grandfather had taught him. The fact that he could make it without blowing up the still made him a popular figure in some communities, even if they didn’t know who he really was.

The stuff was as good to trade as it was to get drunk. It was how Bradford was afford the equipment to repair the downed UFO’s landing gear. Shen had been reluctantly impressed.