Chapter 2

The Red

"Theramod…Theramod wake up!" a Drell's crackly voice echoed throughout the cargo container in the hold of the small freighter. Theramod's eyes shot open as was startled out of his sleep, and he grabbed the hilt of the short-sword by the rolled up cloth he had been using as a pillow, ready to kill if necessary.

"Am I really that unpleasant to be around? This is our first mission together in seven months and you are already about to kill me, with my own blade as well! Am I not fortunate to have a little brother like you!?" The Drell's voice rang out again, with blatant sarcasm, and Theramod released the hilt of the blade.

"Well, Kaltiak, when you are trained as a killer for 16 years, you develop some of the instincts of a killer. Makes sense doesn't it?" Theramod responded equally sarcastically.

Kaltiak smiled and said, "They trained you? I thought the Hanar just gave you free board until they finally figured out that you're not mentally retarded, so now you're working off your rent."

Theramod wanted to retort with a hearty "FUCK YOU!" but being a smartass is just too much fun he decided. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just naturally this talented at what I do." Theramod grinned smugly.

"Well you must be. I know how little you worked when you lived with the Hanar," Kaltiak said with false hostility.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a lazy bastard," Theramod stood up and cracked his back. "Don't you think you could've bribed our way onto a freighter that was shipping bedding?" Theramod asked.

"That would've been too much of a luxury for us to afford, don't you think brother?" Kaltiak said.

"What do you care? The Illuminated Primacy is the one paying for it, and what do they need all their money for? They're just a bunch of big stupid jellyfish!" Theramod said in a joking tone.

"Theramod! You should show respect to the Hanar, if it wasn't for them the Drell would be all dead." Kaltiak scolded.

"Relax Kaltiak, we wouldn't all be dead…there are still pockets of survivors on Rahkana." Theramod said with a rebellious, yet still joking tone. Kaltiak just sighed at his brother. "I'm only kidding Kaltiak. You need to chill out a little bit." Theramod said.

"I know you I just worry about you." Kaltiak replied, sounding almost like a father.

"You of all people should know I can take care of myself. Just because you're older doesn't mean that you have to babysit me." Theramod said with an almost annoyed tone.

"I just want to keep you in the lines of the Hanar's tolerance," Kaltiak's voice had suddenly taken on a melancholic tone.

"Their tolerance? Brother, they have too much invested in me to get rid of me." Theramod hated when Kaltiak spoke as though the Hanar saw him as disposable.

Kaltiak continued to push, not realizing the anger in Theramod's voice, "They would rather get rid of you than constantly run damage control over the messes you create. And you know working for them is the only choice you have…"

Theramod spun to look at his brother, "Of course it's the only choice I have," his voice had begun to climb in volume as Kaltiak's statement turned the valve on Theramod's inner self, "Don't you think I fucking know that? The Hanar have owned me since I was six. I couldn't take care of myself when Mother and Father died, and you were too busy playing soldier to come home, so the Hanar picked me up and turned me into a tool. You know I'd give anything to end my servitude to them, but every fucking time you're around you have to remind me that being their tool to use wherever they like is the only choice I have in life." Theramod spoke in a cool tone of voice, but Kaltiak could see the red boiling up into his eyes.

He just stood there for a moment, looking his brother right in the eyes. He let out a final sigh and said with just a small hint of his disappointment betraying him and showing in his voice, "I wish you didn't swear so much…" Theramod relaxed a little bit, the rage slowly leaving his mind as he felt ashamed for snapping like he had. The stress had been getting to him recently. He bent over and picked up the short-sword, its hilt wrapped in dark leather, matching the pitch black 12 inch Kris style blade, dark blue lines of Eezo snaking along the twisting edges.

"I know the Enkindlers must be so proud of your proper language, but since I know you don't want to meet them just yet don't forget your knife." Theramod said, the playful sarcasm returning to his voice. "By the way, how old is this thing?"

Kaltiak looked at the knife with respect, sheathed it at its spot across his lower back, and spoke up, "It dates back to before the exodus of Rakhana, though the Element Zero was added to the blade by the Hanar afterwards. I believe it was made by our great-great-great-great…"

Theramod raised his hand and quickly said, "Okay, I get it. It's really fucking old."

Kaltiak smirked. "I guess I'm just picking up your smart attitude." Kaltiak said, "But we need to get moving. The freighter docked 10 minutes ago."

Theramod reached up and touched the hilt of his sword making sure it was there as he always does. "You know, you probably shouldn't sleep with that thing on your back, you might wake up with it through your stomach." Kaltiak said.

"You worry too much." Theramod said, and headed out the door, his brother close behind. They maneuvered through the ship, and out the bulkhead into the Krogan camp, Theramod looked around and something caught his eye; a Krogan sitting on a makeshift throne. Deep scars ran down the right side of his face, his hide was over halfway turned from red to brown, signifying how old he was.

What's so special about him? Theramod thought.

As if he could read his mind, Kaltiak put his hand on Theramod's should and said rather quietly "That Krogan helped save the galaxy a year back. He helped Shepard defeat Saren, and now he's the leader of Clan Urdnot. Heard he's trying to unite the Krogan Clans too."

"I bet deep down he's just merc scum with big ambitions."

They had walked for 25 minutes in silence, and as they walked through a path between 2 massive sand ridges Kaltiak broke it, "When are you going to tell me what happened that day...you know, with our parents?"

Theramod stopped and tensed, he knew he'd have to tell Kaltiak at some point, and after 18 years it seems he was out of excuses not to. On any other mission they were too busy getting drunk and killing people for this to come up, but now, in the middle of desert the truth was about to come out, but just as Theramod went to open his mouth to speak, a round object landed in front of them, and Theramod immediately tackled Kaltiak to the ground, putting up a biotic barrier that surrounded both of them, just as the grenade exploded. Theramod and Kaltiak were tossed like ragdolls backwards, blue pulses flying out in all directions from the overloaded barrier and giant lumps of Tuchankan sand raining down from the blast. Theramod sprang to his feet, reaching towards the hilt of the sword on his back, but just before his hand reached the hilt, he was knocked to the ground with a brutal overhanded swing from behind him. Theramod could not see the attackers, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He charged up his biotics and began to get back up as a swift punt kick to his ribs launched him almost 3 feet up into the air. All of the air was knocked out of his lungs and he couldn't breathe in as he crashed back down into the sand. Another hard kick to the back of his skull made Theramod decided that it would be better to stay down. Blood ran down the back of his head onto his face and into his eyes.

He was picked up by three of the attackers, which he could now see. They were all Krogan clad in Bloodpack armor that was painted jet black. He looked to his left and could see Kaltiak. He was just as beat up as Theramod, but he was out cold. After the Krogan lugged their prisoners up the ridge they were chucked into two separate metal boxes with locks on them. The hinges shrieked as the doors were slammed shut, and then came the black. Not just the physical black of the cage, but Theramod's inner blackness. The Blackness that blinded his senses; The Blackness that killed his thoughts; The Blackness that emptied out everything in his mind and left it blank…except for The Burning Red. The Red that built up inside, that pulsed behind his eyes, that crept into his vision. The Red that demanded blood. The Red that burned his very mind. The Red that fueled his existence. The Burning Red that was his inner demon, which he could call upon for strength when he had none, that would push him through anything that stood in his way, that would not rest until The Burning Red had obliterated everything in its path.

The third hour brought the movement to a halt; the boxes were unloaded. Soft pings of a code being punched in echoed inside the cage and interrupted the cadence of the pulsing of The Red. The door opened and a gruff voice sent out a demand from inside the blinding light of the outside; "Get out."

Theramod crawled out and stood up. Two Krogan's had M-76 Revenant light machine guns trained on him, the red painted metal shone under the sun, sharply contrasted by their armor. It was black as night, even in the bright sunlight. They wore helmets so no facial features could be made out. Three more surrounded the opening of Kaltiak's cage; in the front was the leader who wore no helmet and bore the armor of a Battlemaster. He had an M-5 Phalanx handgun with a heavy extended barrel trained on the opening as the command was repeated. Kaltiak too climbed out, and stood up. The leader, also the oldest of the group, the red on his thick hide almost fully being replaced by the brown elder Krogan bore, barked out another order, "Restrain him."

The Krogan on his left approached Kaltiak. Kaltiak immediately drew his Kris and plunged it deep into the Krogan's chest. He ripped the blade up and out. He then swung at the leader. The Elder raised his Phalanx as if to block the slice, but the 12 inch blade powered by Kaltiak's biotics sliced through the barrel like it was butter. He swung the blade back, slicing across the headplate of the Elder, but not even drawing blood. The Elder retaliated with a vicious hook punch to Kaltiak's side, and then an overhanded swing down onto the top of Kaltiak's skull with the butt of the Phalanx. The sickening crack echoed through Theramod's ears as he looked on. His mind went black as everything happened in slow motion; Kaltiak fell to the ground and then began to lift his head up, then the elder Krogan leveled his handgun at him, and pulled the trigger. Kaltiak's head recoiled backwards from the impact, the shot rang out. Then the black gave into Red.

Theramod sprung up, none of the Krogan having time to react, their attention being trained on Kaltiak. Theramod hopped three feet into the air, brought his right leg up high, and brought it down with every ounce of strength he had in a devastating axe kick to the top of the Elder's headplate. It split, and the popping echoed throughout the ruins, sounding as though a thousand bones had been snapped at once, and the Elder fell to the ground, seemingly dead. Theramod, using the resistance offered by the Krogans skull performed a backflip back towards the 2 Krogans that were guarding his cage. Theramod landed right in front of the Krogan. They hesitated, almost stunned by the look of pure rage carved into his stone cold face. The Krogan must've thought this was the red hot uncontrollable rage of a weak person who lost their temper. They were half right, the rage was burning scorching hot in the inside, but as it reached the surface it was cold, the kind of anger that could be grasped and shaped into a weapon. A hellish, shit-eating grin warped the Drell's once stoic face into a look of demonic euphoria at the destruction Theramod was going to inflict upon his helpless victims who had him surrounded. A blood red biotic aura began to surround him; The Burning Red extended its claws out in search of victims. As the crimson mist began to swirl around him Theramod extended both arms, fists clenched, towards the Krogan, and just as they raised their rifles to fire Theramod unclenched his fists and let loose two almost solid balls of pure force. They rocketed towards the giant predators, who were just now realizing that they were now the prey. The biotics made contact, sending both Krogan flying across the ruins, their midsections almost shattered open. Theramod turned to see the last standing Krogan, whose Revenant came to life firing at Theramod. The Krogan bullets smashed into the swirling crimson surrounding Theramod. The biotics became little perfect circles where the bullets impacted, the tungsten slugs turning instantly to dust. Theramod swung his arm as though he were throwing a baseball, but instead of a ball, a reave field was launched into the Krogan. He toppled over as his nervous system was almost instantly shredded, and he curled up uncontrollably into a ball, screaming, and clutching the rifle which was still firing. Theramod, thinking the fight was over turned and began to walk away. He just barely heard the thuds of rapidly approaching footsteps, and turned just in time to face the impact.

Theramod was tossed through the air and landed with a crash on the hard stone. He began to get up, but then rolled just in time to roll to avoid the Elder Krogan's second charge. Theramod reached to his back and pulled out his sword, the Eezo contained inside instantly coming to life at his touch, glowing a vivid crimson, giving its proper respect to The Burning Red. The Drell stood perfectly straight, blade at his side, ready to fight. The Elder Krogan brandished his own blade, a 2 foot serrated broadsword, though in reality it was just a combat knife by Krogan standards. The dark silver metal shone menacingly. The Krogan changed his stance and grinned, orange blood from his cracked headplate dripping down both sides of his face; the daze from the impact still clouding his eyes. Then he charged for the third and final time. Theramod stood his ground, waited for the right time, and struck out with a wide horizontal slash as he sidestepped the charging mass. The blood red trail from the biotics mirrored the path his blade took. The Elder took 2 more steps as his sword clattered to the ground, in 2 separate pieces. The Elder opened his mouth as if to yell, but no sound emerged from his gaping mouth, just a torrent of orange blood that shot onto the ground in front of him. He fell over onto his back; the giant wound across his chest exposed both his still beating hearts to the Tuchankan sky. Blood spurted out in many large streams from just as many lacerations across his hearts, lungs, and arteries from the many small warp fields Theramod's blade generated. The aura of the biotics drifted out of the chest of the dying Elder.

Theramod smirked and said out loud, "It sort of looks like your soul is coming out of your chest, you know that?" The Elder's only response was a gurgle, as his lungs filled with blood. Satisfied that the Elder was going to die and was suffering, Theramod slowly turned to look at Kaltiak, not checking to see if he was alright; Theramod already knew he was dead. He didn't even do it to have one final look at him, but just to absorb every detail of what these bastards did to him. And he did, his eyes soaked up every single detail, from the bullet wound just above Kaltiak's left eye and the bloody rectangular imprint in the top of his skull from the butt of the Phalanx, to the pattern of the dust stains on his jacket, to the 5 large, tan, fly-like insects who were sucking up his fresh blood pooling over the stone. His eyes fell on the Kris that Kaltiak still clutched, covered in orange blood to the hilt, his mind only saw the image, but couldn't connect it to anything bigger other than the detail of the scene. Nothing was left out, it was all scorched into his memory perfectly, and he would call upon this memory to fuel The Burning Red inside that gave him life, that forced him to go on, and in return he would kill anyone who got in his way to fulfill its bloodlust.

Then Theramod ran. He ran without thinking. Without planning on how he would have to get off planet, or how he would contact the Illuminated Primacy when he did. The only thing that was in his mind was the haze of The Red. He ran even as it clouded his vision, the blood red haze creeping in from the sides of his eyes, blotting out the dull tan of the Tuchankan soil. Then everything began to fill with a dark blue.

Theramod awoke sitting in the co-pilots seat of the shuttle as it came upon the mass relay; the Rage finally pulling its fingers out Theramod's skull, and with The Red finally gone. He could now plan ahead for the days to come, as he hit the relay and set destination for the Widow System.