AN: Hey guys, welcome - you landed here, so my vague synopsis was so far at least catchy enough to make you click it, hehe. So if you're new, I'd appreciate it if you'd take a few moments for my overview:
What the story NOT is:
- a tight-ass serious recap of the game's events
- a third person view thing
- a show-off in perfect writing or perfect english
- featuring characters, that are always 100% *true*
- stuffed with scenes so incredibly awesome, creative and passionate that they always leave you utterly thrilled or hilariously amused (or with wet pants at that)
If it would be, I would happily change my line of work.
But what the story IS:
- an imperfect, first person, two POV (switch indicator: ~V~) sometimes thrashy road trip to the dark side of my deranged humor
- roughly following the game but with *I hope* quite some new ideas and shots at smoothing over the worst plot holes
- featuring two issue-ladden heroes fighting side by side along a path filled with anguish, blood, violence and oh-so-sweet love
- straightly coming from my twisted little heart. Always.
Don't forget to check out my chapter songs every once in a while.
I hope you will enjoy the ride as much as I do.
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Update 23/09/2018: the home stretch
Hey guys we're in the final stages now, yay.
First I finished my big ass overhaul – so if you haven't been here since 2017: there are LOTS of new things. Mostly I fixed style, dialog, transitions and mood. Also added a few new aspects here and there. All in all it's a much smoother read now.
Always, let me know your thoughts. Especially if you think it sucks. Only then can I get better :-)
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Last but not least: I want to give my special thanks and a big hug to RevolvingAbyss, whose efforts, dedication and incredible belief in my abilities constantly spurs me to push my limits! Without you, I would have quitted a long time ago. Thank you :)
*All things belonging Bioware, belong Bioware. But the insanity is my own.*
+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+
Fight me now once again,
With all your pride and magnificence
Feel the strength that I possess
Activated by your arrogance
Draw the line
Draw the line
Consider me your worst enemy
This breaking point is mine to defeat,
Prepare to fall
Prepare to fall!
Trail of Tears – Eradicate
Prologue ~ Madman's Mantra
Death.
Is it really the final end? Or rather as society wants us to believe just a stopover; a shifting point that would merely lead us to some different kind of existence?
Guess, I still haven't made up my mind on that specific point, despite that she was - as for every soldier - an ever present companion since I entered the turian military at fifteen. She? Yes. I might not be a particularly spiritual man, but on those days it was just all too easy to picture death as some female deity like the drell do. Well, that is without the excessive flowery poetics - which are honestly an inapt obsession for any heterosexual male regardless his species.
You see, death is hardly about equality or inevitability; let alone finding peace in dark tranquility beneath the wings of some benevolent goddess or waiting for your beloved one across the sea. It's about cynicism in its purest form; a cruel joke, a shot in the back when you're the most vulnerable, delivered with the unforgiving precision of a first-rate marksman. A relentless hunter prowling the outskirts of our life, just waiting to snatch away those you cared for whenever you stopped looking.
Very feminine if you ask me but perhaps that's just my own prejudiced opinion.
Sounds bitter? You have no idea. Maybe the problem is that things had already started to go sour the day I returned to a hellishly short-staffed C-Sec - and trust me I had wrestled with the decision on more sleepless nights than I'd like to admit. But in the end it had been that one confident voice, constantly appealing to my sense of duty, and so certain of my abilities that tipped the scale.
More, it filled me with pride; and the certainty that I would be able to rebel against the system somehow – I was, after all, one of the heroes who had saved the Citadel.
Well… guess this naïve turian really should have known better.
In any way, the bitter truth caught up with me real quick: nothing had changed. C-Sec was still hamstrung by red tape and most certainly would always be, business had returned to its usual pace even before Tayseri Ward stopped burning, while the Council was doing the one thing they truly excelled at: glossing over. Evidence vanished down the archives' vaults and slowly but surely the perception of events changed. But I grinded my teeth and held on; because that confident voice, the voice of a friend, had convinced me that it was the damn right thing to do.
Day by day by day.
Until the news of the destruction of the Normandy reached us.
With the most influential (or loudest and most inconvenient to be precise) opposition gone, the Council had no scruples to morph the attacker from gigantic alien space ship into geth vessel in short order. They didn't even care that it was almost twice the size of any known geth dreadnought. And everybody just believed. No questions asked.
My frustration turned into anger.
Anger at the Council's lack of interest in the truth. Anger at all the evil out there and that everybody wanted me to sit on my hands and watch. Anger at losing yet another friend to death's voracious claws.
My ire grew, a simmering pressure that tugged and gnawed on me until one thought became paramount: get the hell out.
So why Omega? Did a part of me actually believe the "Black Citadel" to be the lesser, albeit the more honest, of two evils? Well, yes and no. Above all I believed that here I wouldn't care. That while hunting society's worst scum and reveling in a much darker side of myself, I would eventually stop feeling the increasing exasperation that had infested my mind.
I was wrong.
While Garrus Vakarian fell deeper, Archangel climbed out from the abyss. The blood of the despicable soaked Omega's streets and it felt good. So fucking good. I once more had a purpose, a team, and yet… There I was, finally living my little selfish dream, able to enforce the real justice I'd been denied for so long - and yet my restlessness was growing even worse. I was haunted, not only by the ghosts of my past but also by these new demons that pushed me away from the white side ever further. Months passed; refined hunter and killer by day, a broken man eaten away by bitterness at night.
Until eventually I realized that deep down I still held on to a different dream. To the taste of a different life that could and would never be again; and as long as a part of me chained itself to these memories, my future would hold nothing but misery. With the epiphany finally came this one moment when I accepted and was ready to move on.
And the next?
The next I barreled through the hole a set of explosives had ripped into the wall of our hideout and right into the carnage that was already waiting for me, and I swore I could hear her laughing in triumph. Death had done it again; but this time she stabbed me in the back and ripped away everything.
This the dulled and soulless gunmetal orbs drove home with relentless clarity. I wanted to look away but I couldn't. The dead gaze bound me, trapped me in this terrible nightmare that unfolded around me. The sort with no wake-up to break its grip. Minutes passed; and with each I forced myself into memorizing another detail of Mierin's beautiful face.
My vision blurred and I finally allowed myself to blink. I was still kneeling on the floor in the small room we had turned into our makeshift armory in one of Omega's shabby apartments. I tore my gaze away from the slim turian body I had cradled in my arms, only to look at the bulk of a krogan corpse. Another slaughtered friend, left to drown in the puddle of his own orange blood. I could barely contain the rage boiling up anew.
They were all dead.
Mierin. Erash. Monteague. Grundan Krul. Sidonis.
Each name brought another hot-searing slash, and I soaked in the anguish; allowed it to bite deep and leave its mark on my soul.
Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver. Melanis.
Because ultimately it was the much-valued turian pride, they paid for with their lives.
My pride.
I took a deep breath, struggling for composure. I needed to move; it wasn't save here. The killer commando could come back anytime; looking for me. I brushed Mierin's cheek for the last time then closed her eyes, mumbling a short prayer for her Spirit to find home.
Some customs died hard.
Numb, I got up and ghosted across the damaged room, sidestepping debris and parts of the ceiling. The attackers hadn't left much to chance with those explosives. I kneeled at the air vent next to the weapon bench and ripped the grille away to fish out the canvas bag filled with ammo that had escaped the detonation and the raiders due to Monteague's increasing paranoia. Who would have thought the crazy little human biotic had been right all along?
I shouldered my gear and walked over to Grundan Krul. I pulled out the chain that always dangled around the krogan's neck, then freed the small carved piece of bone and put it in my pocket. I probably could never make good on this promise, but you never know. This Spirit would certainly find a way to make my life even more miserable if I wouldn't try.
I straightened, new determination forming a solid wall against the grief that churned inside.
They'll pay; with their blood, with their pain, with their lives.
I pulled out my knife from its sheath on my calf and nicked my palm with the tip. Blue welled up and a few drops trickled to the floor before I clenched my fist with a wordless snarl.
By my honor, this I swear…
I stepped through the door and to the rest of my team; some killed by the explosion, the rest in their attempt to defend their lives.
And in my head, the madman's mantra started anew:
Mierin. Erash. Monteague. Grundan Krul. Sidonis.
Wait.
Suddenly a realization hit me, its impact as nauseating as a sledgehammer punch to the gut. There were eleven names… But only ten bodies…
It begged just one question: where the hell was Sidonis?