Prologue: Dragonslayers

William Thatcher stared at his camera, smoking a cigarette in front of his mobile camera. His V.I., Jarvis, was ready to put him on live TV and on every possible screen all across Metropolis. William had lived in Metropolis ever since he was born twenty-five years ago. But Metropolis was on its last legs, and the Alliance occupation didn't make anything better. They were the next Detroit times ten, and it was his crazy plan that would change everything.

"Five seconds until midnight, sir." Jarvis notified. "Beginning in three, two..."

William watched as the camera turned on with the red light indicator pointing out he was live. He found himself chuckling before the camera, rubbing his short cropped brown hair before speaking. "You're so precious, aren't you? The rich class citizens of the city of Metropolis, holding every credit to themselves instead of making a difference by donating to charity and helping rebuild the structures of the lower class citizens who are forced to take chances in order to feed their fucking families. And then you have the Alliance in your pocket, protecting your borders. And then, Calypso still operates that old nuclear reactor that should've been shut down a hundred years ago. Like we didn't have enough problems without that damn Mr. Sarif claiming he could fix that reactor and then not making enough progress to provide power to all of the entire city!"

William took another puff from his cigarette. "You know, my friend says the reason that we are going in the shitter on parts of the planet is because of the alien influence. I say it's the same reason from the past: the rich don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves. And while many alien species are rich; the asari, the turians, and the salarians to name a few, the rich of our city are the only ones to blame. But my friend is just too much of a xenophobe to understand, and he got two of his friends killed a few years ago trying to kill a turian representative that had visited this dying place. But I know we have only ourselves to blame."

He picked up a pistol he had to his side, cradling it in his cigarette hand. "To all of the rich people, you think you're safe? You're not. Come tomorrow, this city will be running red with your blood splattered all around the entire city. As for the poor, you have a choice in this: join me or stay out of my way. The world will remember this moment as the day the poor truly rebelled against the rich, and turned themselves into the new gods of this city. I'll see you soon." William smiled before the camera stopped recording.

"Livestream successful. All available viewing screens broadcasted your newsfeed. Shall I end the recording session?"

William smiled again. "No. Record a second message of mine but do not display it until three days from now."

"Very well, sir." Jarvis spoke before activating the camera again, waiting for his master's second message to be spoken.

June 9th, 2179

Eight hours before The Message

William brought the last package into one of his warehouses full of 'hazardous materials' donated to him by the Blue Suns organization. It was all part of his plan he was to initiate tomorrow. He made some discreet deals to the group through friends of the organization, and Vido Santiago made good on the agreement. The trade for this required for William to serve the Blue Suns for seven years after it, but it would be unknown on whether or not he would be able to hold his end of the bargain in the end.

As William closed the door, he heard footsteps behind him. As he turned around, he realized it was his friend Finch. Their friendship had been fragile ever since that incident years ago, where Jordan and Joseph got themselves killed by Alliance officials during their failed assassination attempt. Of course, they failed because Shepard had stepped in to save the turian ambassador they attempted to kill. Now Finch was pushing to get the Reds out of Metropolis and across other parts of the galaxy, but William decided to quit the gang and left out why.

"So," Finch spoke. "the Reds are leaving Metropolis tonight. There's a seat still open for you if you want, William."

"I don't really fit in to your group anymore, Finch." William answered. "I don't hate aliens like you do. Maybe the batarians, but they're fucking slavers. It's the ones who see themselves as gods among mortals due to wealth that I hate."

"Pretty much everybody in Metropolis that lives in the upper district thinks that way. And we've been robbing most of them blind for years now."

"And that's going to pay off after tomorrow."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing to concern you should you decide to leave right now, alongside your new brothers and sisters."

Finch grabbed William's shoulder. "Tell me what the hell that means, Will."

He laughed. "This is exactly like you, Finch. You don't quit pushing when you need to save yourself. You throw yourself into the frying pan when I'm trying to throw you out of it to avoid over-cooking it. You are worthy enough to have a chance to leave now. I suggest you take it."

"Come on, William. What's your game?"

He stood up, pulling open the garage door. "If you insist." The door opened to reveal a huge supply depot of guns. Many models of assault rifles and shotguns were lined up on tables and walls. "I am planning the biggest clean-up operation of our generation. I will purge the city of the rich oppressors and place the deserving on their throne."

Finch looked in shock. "Where the hell did you get all of these guns?"

"The Blue Suns. Mr. Santiago is a very influential man. I owe him a big favor after this if the plan succeeds."

"William, what you're proposing is madness. I hate Metropolis more than most but this is just too extreme."

"Which is why you're going to leave and never speak of this. For the sake of our friendship, I recommend you take the offer or risk me doing something drastic."

Finch was about to protest before he saw a gun in his friend's hand. It pointed straight at his head, and Finch raised his hands in defense. With that movement, he no longer saw his friend from the past. He saw a bane ready to raise his claymore high to slay the dragon that flew high in the sky. It was in that moment he knew he had to leave. "Fine, William. You're not one of the Reds. Maybe you never were." Finch turned around and ran as fast as his legs could take him.

"That's right, Finch." William yelled. "Run like a little bitch!" He laughed as he closed the garage door, making a list of what he needed ready for tomorrow's conquest.

Four hours later...

It had been a tiring flight for Christian Tyson; member of the Earth Urban Combat Championship's team, the Edmonton Blood Dragons. He had flown from their game against the Mobile Death Pigeons in Alabama to the city of Metropolis in a matter of two hours. He and two of his other team members were supposed to be helping out some charity ball in two days, and he came early to get their rooms set up. His armor and gear was in the back seat of the rental skycar he was borrowing.

On one hand, Michelle was one of the other members going to represent the EBD at the charity. Michelle Thrask was one of the toughest women in the league he had ever met, and she was very beautiful. Sometimes he couldn't help but look at how well she competed against the other teams with a sense of grace and precision. They've practiced together a few times, but he had no motive yet to say how beautiful he thought she was.

On the other hand, Eric Sparrow was also chosen by his team to come to the charity event. Eric was a prick from New Jersey who got himself onto the Blood Dragons through ruthless tactics and a deal Christian's team made with the Jersey team. After he was on, though, he nearly got Christian kicked off the team after a stint in Russia. That caused Christian to lose his temper and punch Eric in the face. Thankfully, he swung his fist after clearing his name.

Christian sighed after he landed the car in the lot. He opened the door and was greeted by a chauffeur to be escorted to his room on the penthouse floor. After spending time getting things ready in his room for easy to reach access, Christian opened his comlink to talk to his family down in California. While he played for two of Canada's teams (he also played on an ice hockey team sometimes), he was California-born and his parents still lived down there.

"Hello?" His mother asked on the line.

"Hey, mom." Christian's voice was tired, but clear enough to understand.

"Oh, hey sweetie! We just finished watching your game from a few hours ago. You know how your father likes to record your games to watch over and over. I swear, I think he's trying to study you or something."

"How has dad been doing? I know it's been a few months since he and I talked."

"Your father is doing great. He wants to speak to you soon, but work has held him up a bit. I think he's heading to bed now. I can hear his footsteps coming up the stairs."

"I felt like heading off to bed, too. Those Death Pigeons really knew their stuff. Thank goodness Rico and Shale decided to say things like 'Come on, you apes! You wanna live forever?!' and 'Death to all pigeons!' during the fight. I think it gave the team a laugh."

"You can't always tell on TV because of you guys wearing those helmets. I'm glad you can at least have fun doing the things you love."

"So am I." Suddenly, Christian noticed that he was getting another call. "Sorry to cut this short, mom, but-"

"Say no more. The boss is checking up on you as well to see if you're all right. We'll talk again soon, sweetie. See if you can visit sometime soon. I love you, son."

"I love you too, mom." Christian transferred to the other call from his manager, Evan Costner. Evan was a shrewd man when it came to those who would hinder his rise to fame, but he was kind to his team. Christian and Michelle were his favorites, as they were his best players on the team.

"Hello?" Christian asked.

"Christian, what took you so long to answer, man? Normally you're straight to business."

"Sorry. I was finishing a call with my parents."

"Okay, that's fine. Thanks for letting me know. Listen, Michelle and Eric are going to be coming in around eleven tonight. Are their rooms all set?"

"Yes. I looked through the rooms myself. Everything's in order."

"Good. And Christian, some members of the team decided it's best that we start calling you by the nickname of Dragonslayer. How's that sound to you?"

"Isn't that a bit of an oxymoron, sir?"

"What? Never mind. They thought that after your fight against Vladimir 'Miraak' Putin in Russia you should be referred by that title. He was the Russian dragon for five years, and the way you took him down with your useful invention you use for both my team and your hockey team was spectacular. Go ahead and think about it for a while if you want."

"Great. Anything else, boss?"

"Two more things. One: it's apparent to me that you might have a thing for Michelle. And you can't lie to your manager about that. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox. Just remember that if you decide to act on it, don't let it interfere with the team. Everybody is pretty much family and I don't want any problems. Which leads to the second thing I want to say: don't cause trouble with Eric. I know you two have a heated past, but I need both of you to cooperate now more than ever. Understand?"

"Sure, boss. I'll take both of those situations into consideration."

"Good. Now get some rest. You're going to need it after that last battle. Take care, Dragonslayer."

The connection disconnected before Christian could say good-bye (or even argue about the name again), so he instead collapsed into sleep on his bed, forgetting for a moment that his best friend and worst rival were going to be with him for the next few days.

If only he knew about William Thatcher's message. He would've left that night and tell the rest of them to turn back.

Fate is cruel that way.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, it's the same routine as the last story. There won't be an author's note until the epilogue, so I'm going to leave you guys a very explainable author's note. If you haven't gotten it yet, the main antagonist is one of Shepard's old rivals named William Thatcher. Thatcher's importance in the story is that he pulls something from Christopher Nolan's book and launches an all-out assault on the city of Metropolis (notice all of the DC references). One character you can compare him to is Bane from The Dark Knight rises, but who he is really based off of is a character with the name of Bill Williamson from a movie called Rampage. In that movie, Bill launched an all-out massacre on his town, killing a bunch of innocent people and robbing a bank. William Thatcher's name actually stems off a protagonist from another movie played by the more serious Joker, Heath Ledger (Coincidence? I think not!).

The protagonist itself is actually Christian Tyson. He is interesting as he is one of my followers (who will not be named for his own safety/confidentiality) just as Admiral Wauters was (I don't remember revealing who his pen name is to the world). I am hoping that I am able to get his personality right, as I know him to be a quiet but loyal companion who I would definitely have on my side. His role in the story here is as the protagonist because he actually stands out and rebels against William despite the fact it could mean certain death. Expect a bunch of things to the multiplayer popping up with Christian, as these particular tools are what saves his life in multiple situations.

And finally, if you had read chapter 39 to my story, Mass Effect: Resolution, you'll see that one of the characters from that book has a dark secret that is revealed here. Once you're done reading this, I imagine what my true followers (and even fans of the character) are going to say. Also, you can expect a reference at the end towards my Commander Shepard from my main story, Zach. As short as the last one will be, don't expect it to be too long for the ending this time. He can't steal the spotlight all the time, you know.

Until the next time we speak, followers.