Heretic
ACT 1 : Babel
A young man woke from a hazy and forgotten dream to find people, friends and comrades rushing forward taking their posts, weapons in hand limping towards the gate that they had defended for so long against the unrelenting unknown. They had held out as long as they could but without help they would soon lose this critical location. He had never expected this; as a mercenary for the Blue Suns he and his team were tasked to kill a Salarian on Earth. No questions were asked and anyway he was looking forward to returning to his home even if it was on business. It wasn't assassination but neither was it a slaughter, simply make it look like a pre-meditated murder but leave no trace as to who it was. But no-one was expecting what happened that day. Massive machines reigned down terror slaughtering millions as everyone fled to the safest location they could find. The Metro in Russia, while built for a long forgotten war that never happened proved to be an incredibly safe place to hide while everyone hoped for a solution to the crisis. The machines proved incapable of penetrating the thick walls of the Metro but that didn't stop them from deploying more precise weapons. Husks were well known together with their other variations but a different enemy lurked in the shadows, an unknown. All of Earth's hopes and the rest of the Galaxies hopes rested on the shoulders of Shepard and his companions.
Shepard had managed to rally the Quarinas and Geth into a peaceful but insecure alliance that increased the hostility of the rest of the galaxy towards the Quarians; but they didn't have a choice the Reapers were coming and attacking the Geth meant that they would be slaughtered; while continuing to roam the stars meant an easy target for the Reapers. The Quarians accepted the imminent threat that was approaching and reluctantly decided to help Shepards cause provided they were given their homeworld back to shelter their civilians and secure the alliance with the synthetics, the Geth agreeing joined with their massive and technologically advanced fleet; sporting more Warships than ships capable of transportation due to the Geth's disembodied nature; while the Quarians fleet mainly composed of transportation than warships. The Geth's fleets were already stretched thin from defending their posts from the Reapers and a few Quarians were recruited to support the Geth through engineering expertise. As to where Shepard, Tali or Legion were now was anybody's guess.
Ignoring the movement around him Mikhail pulled out a small picture from his pocket, he stared at the image; trying to relive the moments he had spent living the life that was imprinted on the photo. A quarian and himself arm-in-arm sharing a moment he knew he could never go back to… a person he could never go back to….. a life he could never go back to. The very reason he became a mercenary. His thoughts were interrupted by a friendly voice, quickly hiding the photograph and turning his head towards the person. His lifelong friend and fellow soldier Ethrich a Turian was standing behind him and sat down just as Mikhail turned his head.
"How's your leg doing?" the Turian asked with a slightly sarcastic tone.
"Not bad although it seems that I'm not going to be able to fight front line today" the human responded in a neutral tone.
"I've got you a position at a MG nest - over there" he pointed towards a position that was well armed and well contained; looking like the safest place in the whole area.
"Thanks," was the human's response and a short pause of silence ensued, "Did you ever have anyone you cared for?" the human asked barely audible and keeping his head fixed towards the entrance of the metro's safe zone.
The turian's face changed to a look of concern and depression as his hand crossed his face covering his eyes and then his nose, "that's the past and I cannot let it interfere with the situation that we are currently facing," his tone changed to something that Mikhail had never seen before in all the time that they were friends, a deep low voice filled with torment.
Ethrich pulled out a tin of canned soup, "here, it's not much but it will help; you need to eat, you can't afford to starve yourself".
"Give it to a child who needs it," he replied dryly. The turian moved his head from side to side and instead put the can next to him and got up. "I'll be back and you better have finished that soup", his voice was back to the usual sarcasm that Mikhail was used to.
When he was gone Mikhail examined the can, taking out his knife he punctured the lid and held it to his mouth drinking it slowly; taking a break between sips to take in the surrounding environment. The old creaking bulkheads; the aging walls of stone and steel, the stuffy and heated corridors and passages reminded him of his childhood on the surface in the open fields in Russia, ignorant of the world around him of what he had taken for granted. A person once taught him that, a very special person. Getting angry at himself for reciting the thought he forced himself to view other things. People from several countries were present there Chinese, Spanish, American and most prominently Russian all living in the same areas all working together against a common enemy even is spite of their violent history and impossible odds. Once in a while a Turian or Asari would pop into sight standing out from the group and then rush off into the background mixed between all the other humans. The thought of his past once again caught up with him and he shook the idea off, to keep his mind off it he checked his leg's wound. It hadn't really gotten any better and the thought of how he got it was fresher than ever. That one time that they made their way back up to the surface a Praetorian had ambushed them. While they were outfitted to deal with it that didn't deny their weariness. As the beast fell to the ground its one arching foot pinned and pierced his foot. It was a painful reminder and one that he didn't want to remember.
Slowly he attempted to get up feeling pain stretch out throughout his entire body he gave up and fell onto the floor again. Someone, somewhere shouted "двигаться!" all of a sudden everyone started running across the dome, cocking their weapons, commanders barking out orders, engaging tech armor and so forth preparing the final preparations, A well decorated person came to him, held out his hand and as Mikhail grabbed it reluctantly- got thrown up to his feet. Without a word or whisper he pulled a rifle from his back and a Kessler from his left pocket holding each in either of his hands. Steeling his moral and resolve the young man took the weapons, holstering the pistol in the pocket on his upper left thigh and keeping the rifle in his hands. The commander with a nod quickly walked away towards the triage centre.
Trying to not over-strain his muscles he slowly started limping to the weapon emplacements. Noticing the different divisions of troops rushing back and forth; Vanguards, Infiltrators and Soldiers this was no-ordinary raid. The thought crossed his mind of what they were fighting. "Husks? No- you don't need snipers for a couple of empty corpses, Praetorians? Maybe but then we wouldn't be so tightly packed in one position."Going through every possibility he couldn't decide but concluded that whatever was coming was big.
In a strange instance of what were probably only a few milliseconds everyone stopped, everything stopped and concurrently an earsplitting scream was heard followed by a massive explosion that shook the very foundations and walls that surrounded them throwing everyone to the ground. Debris filled the man's eyes; a ringing in his ears deafened him as he moved his head around struggling to make sense of what was happening. Slowly as he tilted his heads orientation towards the gate he noticed a strange sight.
An awfully disturbing figure appeared before him. A small band of….humans only they were not. The one who was the closest seemed to have a far more complicated stature probably the leader his lower jaw was missing, saliva and blood mixed together hanging by strands. Red scars were prominent across his face including the eyes it almost formed a circle. His….its hands were molded to have three sharp fingers and one awkward spike extruding from the underside of its hand or more likely claw. Muscle tissue was visible across much of the body with a strange brown/pink hue, though the most eye-catching feature was what the skin was composed of; it was cracked and from these cracks originated a type of flame burning the tissue; releasing a stench of charred flesh that could be smelt from meters away; as was the case with Mikhail.
The fiends were slowly approaching; a rush of adrenaline coursed through his blood. He had to get out of here but as he attempted to move he realized the massive amount of rubble on his legs preventing him from even moving an inch. Some comrades were getting up attempting to land a shot at the monstrosities before them. However each of them was cut down almost instantly by the two fiends on either side of the leading one. Slowly they split up. Mikhail's eyes focused to the one to the left. Slowly it approached with its arm outstretched grabbed a person from the ground and held her to the light by the neck. The time passed slowly and painfully as the man had to watch the monster strengthen its grip on her neck; the woman shouting for her life until in a sudden violent motion her head released its hold on her frozen body falling to the ground. This image would be burned in Mikhail's memories for the rest of what remained in his life. It hit him as he returned to his conscience how close the leading fiend was. Like a chicken with its leg stuck in a hole, he tried to get free from the hold of the debris that held him in place. With so much effort his only reward was an excruciating strain across his leg; far worse than anything he had ever felt before. The fiend was towering above him its eyes burning into Mikhail's.
An arm covered with a brownish pink tinge and skin that looked more like armor than actual tissue reached out slowly towards his neck; doing what he could to evade the grasp he pulled out his pistol to fire a shot. However as happened to the others who were valiant enough to stand up to this….thing the arm shot forward onto his neck cutting his access to oxygen. The monster then proceeded to pull him out of the pile of debris creating unimaginable pain as the dislocated leg was torn clean off. Holding the tortured being a few inches from its deformed and repulsive face it spoke:
"Where is Shepard?" it asked; a strong deep voice lacking emotion.
As much as he wanted to respond he couldn't, he was incapable of responding due to the sheer pain he was feeling, the pain his muscles felt, the grasp of the fiend, the burning sensation its hand created, the stench it emanated but most of all the pain from the position of where his leg used to be.
Tightening its grip it spoke again, "Where is Shepard?" its eyes burning through to Mikhail's sending a message- a vision; of death and destruction. Its hand heated up even more; the pain being excruciating.
As his vision started to dim and darken a loud noise awoke him; unsure of what it was the fiends looked around, the leader maintaining his strong hold over Mikhail. A few seconds later the fiend to the right fell to the ground with a heavy thud; a long blade appeared through the chest of the other as it stumbled forward.
During this time the leader turned his head looking for an accomplice. Too late to notice a knife was approaching it and hit dead-centre between its eyes shuddering seconds after it hit, the fiend releasing a gasp as it fell to the ground with such a heavy weight that it shook the ground.
Gasping for air as he himself hit the ground the human was greeted by a Quarian approaching him, slowly, beautifully and marvelously. This was the last thing he needed; hallucinations. The Quarian stood over the monstrosity slowly knelt on one knee and pulled the knife out of the corpse. Then proceeded to sheath her knife next to her ankle wiping it clean beforehand. Dis-believing the human searched around the room; as he did so a flashlight appeared amongst one of the dark corners of the room and a synthetic stepped out with a Mantis Sniper Rifle in hand, stopping a few meters away from Mikhail. Lastly another person appeared next to the Quarian; exiting from the electronic cloaking device he was using; a human appeared with one hand on the Quarians shoulder. A long red and white stripe was painted on his right hand shoulder and the symbol N7 was shining through the darkness of the room on his breastplate. The realization of who this was hit him like a train; this….was….Shepard.
Rumors had spread amongst fellow mercenaries about this legend this…ghost. He had never expected to see him up close. He tried to speak but all he let out was a whisper. Suddenly an agonizing pain crept up his waist, this causing him to fall on his back.
"Tali see what you can do to keep him alive, he is the only one who can tell us what happened here, Legion; scout and secure the area. I'll look for other survivors." Shepard spoke quickly and fluently. Legion nodded and moved towards the gate while Tali opened her omni-tool and started applying anesthetic and omni-gel to Mikhail. She was surprised that he was still alive after and during this ordeal.
"Shepard, I don't think he'll make it unless he has proper medical care soon!" her voice carried across the entire dome. Shepard looked up, "Should we take him to the Normandy?"
"No-time, I can stabilize here but we need help". Shepard thought about it for some time then radioed to Mordin who was at one of the other entrances to the metro. Mordin, we need your help; we've got a critically wounded person in need of treatment."
"Negative…(static)..under enemy fire… (static)…left suppl(static)…..with Garr…." the com shortly went silent and all communications were cut.
"Dammit," running over to Tali and Mikhail Shepard checked his status. "I've stopped the bleeding but there is tremendous shock in him, his neck has suffered severe burns and a slight hint of poisoning from a source I don't know, I'm no doctor Shepard," her words seemed stressed and sad.
Shepard once again put his hand on her shoulder and calmed her down. "What now?" Shepard asked.
"See if you can get more antibiotics." Shepard remembered what Mordin had said in all the static; something about giving supplies to Garrus. He radioed him over, "Garrus we need medical supplies here ASAP,".
"Roger that Shepard; I'll send Samara your way immediately." Garrus's voice was confident and happy-go-lucky; strange for such a time and even stranger considering that Shepard could hear shots being fired in the background.
"Samara is on her way." Shepard said confidently and at the same time showing remorse to Tali and the stranger lying in front of them. He had learnt that Tali hated being the one to have to tend everyone's wounds due to the simple reason of having experience with her suit, a robot can't understand pain no matter how much theory it had incorporated and Shepard was the most skilled on the team with firearms which then made the duty fall to Tali. That and the fact that she hated being the one responsible if someone died; no matter how much Shepard tried to convince her that she had done everything she could and no-one could have done a better job she always felt responsible. He was going to do everything he could to keep this person alive not particularly because it was his duty or that he needed the information this stranger had but rather that he wanted to see Tali happy again.
Mikhail lay on a make-shift bed eyes closed dreaming a nostalgic dream that Tali had fueled.