Wrex was happy.

Actually, Void be damned, he was feeling fantastic.

A real breath of fresh air, he thought.

This morning, he'd packed what little gear he carried besides his firearms and armour, stowed it into a hard case, and mag-locked it to his back before drinking the last of the alcohol in his fridge. Satisfied that there was no food left to rot and no booze to go off, he left his apartment, locked up, and took off for the Exitium's hangar. When he arrived, the hangar guard - a different one from last time - ushered him in and pointed him towards a large crowd, maybe just over one-hundred-fifty people, of mostly mercenary-looking folk standing in a loose square in front of an open cargo bay door by the Dignified. Otherwise, the hangar was mostly empty; the pre-fab buildings were gone and the tents all packed away, the remaining Exitium personnel almost all heading back towards the ship. Wrex stood around the rear of the crowd, trying to see if he recognized anyone - mostly mercs he'd run into here and there, but there were several unexpected faces. A few minutes later, a man in bulky armour, face covered with a sealed helmet, lumbered out of the ship's cargo bay, made his way in front of the loosely-assembled group, and stomped the floor hard enough that Wrex was actually annoyed.

"Oi! Lord Zaeed Massani, Church of the Slayer, Order of the Knights-Errant. First! You people are all here to join the Foreign Legion, yes? Anyone who isn't - or hasn't done the paperwork, step to the left side of the hangar, please. Don't lie - our scribes and secretaries are very, very good at their jobs, and I really don't want to have to hit someone with my chainsword," the man said, patting the massive many-toothed blade hanging from his hip. It was Zaeed - even after only a single meeting Wrex found himself recognizing that odd, raspy voice - and Wrex snorted in amusement as a dozen or so people, mostly krogan with a few turians thrown in for good measure, sheepishly left the group. "Alright, you people who moved, stay there and a secretary will be with you to process your applications. Everyone else, follow me into the cargo bay."

Wrex followed the group inside; the cargo bay was massive, even larger than Wrex assumed it had been from the way it looked on the outside, and the fact that almost all of the storage crates were packed and locked into recessed areas in the bay's walls meant that the entire group fit inside without issue.

"Okay! Now, those of you who received muster orders type one through three, please head through the corridor there," Zaeed said, gesturing a gauntlet-clad fist towards one of the many doors at the far end of the hangar. "There's only one door you can enter from there - you'll go through processing there."

Roughly three-quarters of the group left, leaving, by Wrex's estimation, forty people in the cargo bay. With much of the crowd dispersed, Wrex frowned as he recognized - for certain, now - some of the faces around him.

Tasawn Raeka, Spectre. A salarian woman - Wrex had known the pleasure of working with her back in her STG days on a few deniable operations. Slim for even a salarian - and fast. Wrex harboured suspicious that the wetware in her head wasn't strictly legal, though with spies and Spectres, ex-STG especially, that was a given, he supposed.

Aelik, Justicar. She'd punched him so hard that he'd actually blacked out, once. Apparently their feud, or whatever it was, had been resolved by the Code's terms, but Wrex was in no hurry to repeat the fight.

Nakmor Drack, asshole. Just an asshole. Wonder if I can get him back for Palaven.

Others, but those were the ones that stood out to him. Zaeed rapped a nearby section of hull, and Wrex grumbled to himself as he pushed his plans to piss off Drack out of his mind.

"Wonderful. Now, you people are the ones our scribes and interviewers flagged as not requiring the from-scratch regimen of basic training. Still, I - and my superiors - need to confirm exactly how skilled you are. Please follow me - we'll head to the Testing Arena to being your first trials," Zaeed said. Minutes later, they arrived at their destination: a large, square room, this one not only decorated like the rest of the ship with runes and inscriptions on the walls, ceiling and floor; a banner bearing the Slayer's Sigil, that omnipresent red rune on seemingly everything the Exitium owned, hung from the ceiling, and a mural depicting a armoured figure killing a demon with its fists adorned one of the walls. There was a second tier of deck with seats running along the wall of the room, and at the far end, above the mural, there was a small viewing platform. Zaeed marched into the centre of the room, gestured to one of the corners were a bunch of benches sat, and nodded.

"Go on," Zaeed said. "You can drop your bags and luggage there for the moment," he continued, pulling his helmet off his head and clipping it to the armour's back. Zaeed proceeded to strip out of his armour, armour plates hissing as they slid and shifted to allow him to simply walk out of it, revealing a bare torso covered in scars, tattoos and runes; Zaeed wore a pair of form-fitting leggings and his lack of shoes exposed feet as scarred and rune-covered as his torso. Grunting, Zaeed picked up the armour and carried it one-handed over to one side of the arena, setting it down gently before returning to the group. "Alright. You're welcome to keep your armour on, for those of you who're wearing it. Our first exercise is as much about learning about each others' temperament and fighting style as it is a test to see what baseline our Churches-Militant are working with. Here's the deal. There's a fabricator built into that wall over there," he said, gesturing at a small protrustion sticking out of a nearby wall. "You lot are going to pick any melee weapon you want - nonlethal, of course, and fabricated to your standards - and then we are going to spar. Questions?"

"What're the rules?" Wrex asked, shrugging. "Besides, say I like to use a hammer. Thing's blunt. No such thing as a nonlethal hammer."

"Our fabricator will work its magic," Zaeed replied. "You go through the templates, select a weapon that's close to what you have in mind, place your hands on the mental-matrix-scanners and you'll usually get what you're looking for. More questions?"

Someone raised a hand slightly; it was a turian merc that Wrex had worked with a few times, though he couldn't recall his name. "Lord Massani," the turian said, "what happens if we fail this...test?"

"Depends how badly you fail. I'm not expecting any of you to trounce me in single combat - not because you people are not skilled warriors, mind you, but because I possess the unfair advantage of magic enhancement. I'm more concerned with evidence of skill, technique, thinking on your feet," Zaeed replied, stretching his arms. "Rules are simple. First solid hit wins. The fabricated weapons will decide."

"And are we allowed to use biotics?" Aelik said, her gaze intent.

"I...I'm not sure. I'm not, for example, going to use my active sorcery abilities - I'm not going to be throwing fire at you lot," Zaeed said, scratching at his chin. "But, well, I am magically enhanced to have better reflexes, and as I noted that's already a tip in my favour. How about this. If your biotics assist your mobility or your speed or whatnot, then yes, they're allowed. No projectiles, no crowd-control. Stuns - you know what, sure, if you can stun me on touch-contact, then yes, that's fine too. Anyone else?"

"What happens if we injure you, or you injure us?" another krogan Wrex didn't know asked.

"We've got healers on - ah, speak of the angel." Zaeed gestured to the second deck; a bunch of the Dignified's crew had entered, and a few of them waved. "We have healers on tap - I'm sure you've all heard the power of our magic. Besides, the worst that'll happen is a broken bone or something - literally an instant fix. And I see we also have Lord Protector Alec Ryder with us," Zaeed said, his tone turning far less excited.

"Yes! Hello there, Lord Massani. Recruits, it's a pleasure to meet you all," the silver-armoured human on the upper deck said in a cheery tone. "Perhaps I'll join the sparring, should Lord Massani grant me the honour."

"Right," Zaeed said, blinking a few times. "Sure. Lord Ryder was in charge of ambassadorial security during the diplomatic process, for those of you who don't recognize his shining armour and gold sash," he said, nodding. "And we have Sister Jennifer Nought, personal adjutant to Abbess Hannah Shepard, who represents the Church of the Slayer," he said, gesturing to the human child kneeling next to Alec.

"Blessed is His name," Jennifer said, standing back up. "Though I am still in training, I would be honoured to have the chance to see and participate in armed combat."

"Mmph. Well, let's get on with it," Zaeed said. "Here, follow me to the fabricator. I'll show you how to get it to work..."

Several minutes later, Wrex was standing with the other recruits; he was carrying a replica of an old warhammer he'd been rather fond of (before losing it during a rather unexpected car chase through the Presidium.) The replica lacked the pistons and mass-effect fields that his old hammer had used, but the heft, balance and general feel seemed to be almost identical; how exactly the fabricator was able to read his intent and mind, Wrex wasn't entirely sure of. Not that it mattered, he supposed. The other recruits had selected a variety of weaponry; swords, staves, spears, hammers, and in Drack's case, a thick knife in the style of the classic Tuchankan hunter's blade.

Zaeed had selected a chainsword replica - it only stuns, he'd assured the recruits - and twirled it around before clearing his throat. "Alright! Any of you are free to come at me."

The recruits looked at one another; the turian who'd asked the question about failing stepped forward, a old-fashioned spear in his hands. "Well," the turian said, "might as well."

"It is customary, when in the arena, to present yourself," Zaeed said, holding the chainsword vertically in front of his face.

"Caelus Achalin," the turian said, banging the spear's haft on the ground.

"Well met, Caelus. Come!"

Caelus raised his spear slightly and began circling Zaeed, who simply held his sword at his side, not even adopting a battle stance. Wrex watched as Caelus began inching closer, lashing out quick strikes with the spear at Zaeed, who simply bobbed and weaved out of the way, only moving his feet when absolutely necessary. Caelus began to intensify his barrages, striking from odd angles and at a stuttering pace, clearly trying to get Zaeed to leave an opening when the human simply caught a spear-thrust aimed at his face with his free hand and dashed forward in a blur - not as fast as a biotic charge, but close - and at the same time pulled the spear back, throwing Caelus forward. With a simple backhand punch, never raising his chainsword, Zaeed sent Caelus flying into the far wall with a crumple; the turian groaned before rolling onto his side; Zaeed rushed forward and helped him to his feet.

"Caelus! Are you alright?"

"Oh, spirits, yeah, I'm alright. Man, that hurts, though," Caelus said, wincing as he leaned against the wall. "So that's not a pass, I guess?"

"You pass," Zaeed said, shaking his head. "Not inventive, but good enough. You have experience with the spear?"

"A bit," Caelus said, rubbing at his fringe. "Did a bit of spear-work as a hobby while I was enlisted."

"Mmm. Alright - grab your weapon, head back, talk to the healer. Next!"

Wrex watched as another turian, this one carrying a sword and shield, stepped forward.

"Present!" Zaeed shouted, returning his sword to the ceremonial pose.

"Hena Tercolus."

"Well met, Hena! Come!"

This time the battle lasted less than ten seconds; Hena simply rushed towards Zaeed, shield raised with sword extended, when Zaeed abruptly crumpled to the floor, kicked Hena's feet out from under him and knelt beside him, chainsword-replica's tip at the back of his head. "Dead, Hena. Good aggression, not enough thinking. Pass. Next!"

The simulated massacre continued; Zaeed was, Wrex grudgingly admitted, good. Very good. He was blindingly fast, seemingly capable of standing statue-still for ages before accelerating to furious speeds in the blink of an eye; of the next thirty or so people who went, Zaeed handily defeated all of them without so much as a single hit on himself. All but one passed, though; Zaeed told a dejected krogan to leave to join the newer recruits and to reconsider his "lack of spirit and conviction." Wrex watched the young man lumber out of the arena when he saw that Drack was moving forward, twirling his massive knife around.

"Present!"

"Nakmor Drack," the ancient krogan growled.

"Well met, Drack! Come!"

Neither warrior moved for a few moments; Drack hunched over in a ready stance that Wrex had seen him use before, but remained still.

A moment passed.

Drack roared and charged at the same time; Zaeed sidestepped the charge and was about to swing the chainsword into Drack's back when the krogan spun slightly and headbutt Zaeed hard enough to stop his swing, stabbing with his knife at a furious yet calculated place; chainsword and hunting knife bounced off one another, each warrior disengaging, charging, smashing into one another, disengaging, charging again.

Thirty seconds. Fuck you, Drack, you can do this.

Zaeed blocked a strike, aimed a punch at Drack, who caught the punch; there was a loud crunching noise, and Drack roared before smashing the bottom of his knife into Zaeed's head at blinding speed.

"Halt! Dead, but a good hit! Very good, a well-earned pass," Zaeed said, grinning for a second before his expression became one of worry. "Your hand - are you alright?"

"Hurts like shit," Drack said, examining his right hand, which was bleeding in several places. "Hmm. You're fast. Hit like a tank, too."

Zaeed shrugged, but the smile returned to his face. "Go on - back to the healers. Next!"

Wrex watched in amusement as Drack finally realized Wrex had been skulking around in the back of the group; he waved at the older krogan, a wide, smarmy grin on his face.

"Drack."

"Oh, for the - you're here?"

"Yup."

"Great." Drack lumbered off, grumbling and cursing to himself, walking over to the corner where the healers had set up; Wrex's attention was firmly placed on the arena once again as Tasawn stepped forward with two long, slender swords. She salarian grasped a long - by her standards - slender blade in each hand, and she twirled them in a flourish before walking up to Zaeed - who, in comparison, towered over Taswan, his chainsword seeming enormous by comparison.

"Present!"

"Tasawn Raeka," the salarian said, smiling. "Pahurpak an-doalik ne-doalik saad," Taswan said in some dialect he didn't understand. She raised her swords, making a cross with them before taking a ready stance.

Zaeed's face broke out into a grin. "Zaeed Massani. Rip and tear."

The two launched at each other in a flurry of clanging metal and whirling blades; Wrex was certain that a single solid hit from Zaeed would probably send Tasawn flying across the room, but seconds dragged on and the comparatively diminutive salarian continued to expertly dodge his every strike.

She's faster than I remember her being.

Zaeed grunted - in frustration, Wrex imagined - as the fight dragged on.

Forty-five seconds.

One minute. Nobody's made it this far.

Tasawn's blades were a constant whirlwind of movement; the salarian couldn't hope to bear the full brunt of one of Zaeed's attacks, and so her blades were always subtly angled such that Zaeed's chainsword would be deflected, bouncing away just long enough for her to reposition and prepare for the next strike. Her eyes were flitting about, as fast as Wrex had ever seen. Finally, though, Zaeed's speed was too much; a quick sweep of his arm forced Tasawn to duck underneath the oncoming blow when the human lunged forward with a headbutt. Tasawn tried to block the attack with her swords, but an incoming chainsword swipe forced her to deflect - and Zaeed used the opportunity to sweep her off her feet, chainsword tip planted firmly on her stomach.

"Incredible. Absolutely excellent. Flying colours," Zaeed said helping Tasawn to her feet. "With the right runes and enhancements you are going to be a Slayer-damned blender on the battlefield. Oh, the Order of the Long-Knife is going to like you."

"I can't wait," Tasawn said, expression joyous. "Your reaction times - I underestimated them."

"Hmph. Rectifiable with training. And before the next person comes - what did you say?"

"Ritual duelling challenge," Tasawn said, panting as she picked up her swords. "May your blades shatter before mine."

"Hah! Too long for me," Zaeed replied, barking a laugh. "Next!"

Two others went up next - both defeated in an instant, and Zaeed turned his attention on Wrex and Aelik.

"Justicar," Wrex said, nodding.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Urdnot Wrex. Would you like to go first?"

"Heh. Sure." Wrex hefted his warhammer, stepped forward, and grinned at Zaeed. "Heya."

"Ah! Wrex, it is good to see you once more. Present!"

Wrex beat his armour's chest plate with his hammer several times, losing himself in the fun of the duel. "Urdnot Wrex!"

"Well met, Wrex! Come!"

Wrex inhaled; he'd watched Zaeed closely for the past while, studying his tells, his speed, his instinct.

Is naturally aggressive. Playing the defensive game - playing the role of a teacher. Judge. Natural instinct is to push, hard. Likes to force opponents off-balance to finish with the chainsword. See how he likes a push from a krogan.

The split-second Wrex exhaled he launched himself into a biotic charge, coiling himself tightly as he aimed for a spot just to the left of Zaeed. The human spun, attempting to score a hit with his chainsword, but Wrex ended the charge early, spun, uncoiled and transitioned smoothly into a headbutt aimed at Zaeed's face. Zaeed rolled out of the way at the last minute, grunting in exertion as Wrex swung his warhammer down upon his head; the chainsword-replica hissed and screeched from the impact. Undaunted, Zaeed expertly flipped the chainsword around, thrusting it towards Wrex before launching off the ground into a kick, then rolled backwards out of the way of an oncoming swing.

Heh. Got you now.

Before Zaeed had even started his roll backwards Wrex roared and launched into another biotic charge, slamming Zaeed into one of the far walls, warhammer hovering above Zaeed's head.

"Pass?" Wrex grunted, panting from the back-to-back charges.

"Chainsword in your gut, Wrex," Zaeed said, prodding Wrex's stomach armour with his weapon. "We're both dead."

"Shame," Wrex groused, pulling away. "You've been holding back - a lot."

"I have," Zaeed admitted, shrugging. "But you pass! That aggression, that drive - it'll serve you well as a Slayer, I think."

The two returned to the arena proper, and Wrex made his way back to the rest of the recruits while Zaeed faced Aelik. "Well, Justicar, it's just you remaining."

"So it is," Aelik replied with a small nod. She was carrying a simple asari-style sword, and she sauntered forward to meet Zaeed in the middle of the arena.

"Present!"

"Justicar Aelik," the asari said flatly.

"Well met, Justicar! Come!"

Wrex watched, shaking his head in amazement as Aelik sprinted forward towards Zaeed and seemingly teleported past him before spinning around in a whirling cloud of blue-black biotic fury, sword flashing and flaring as Aelik began a relentless assault on Zaeed; the Justicar was not as strong as Wrex and perhaps not quite as dextrous with blade as Tasawn - but whatever she lacked in swordplay or strength Aelik made up for with the sheer speed of her biotic dashes and blinks, darting around Zaeed, attacking from every conceivable angle. Her dashes left afterimages that merged with her as she moved, turning Aelik into a blue blur that terminated in swordpoint. Zaeed simply held his ground, fending off attacks, occasionally striking in an attempt to trip up Aelik - or get her to overextend, but to no avail.

Thirty seconds passed, the arena dead silent save for Zaeed's grunts and the clash of weapons.

One minute.

One minute, thirty seconds.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

The duel continued, showing no signs of slowing down; if anything, it was getting faster, both warriors locked in combat so furious that even Wrex was starting to have trouble keeping up with it. There was a sudden clang, and Wrex blinked as Aelik's sword flew past him and bounced off the wall. The asari stopped, frowning, as Zaeed panted, eyes wide in astonishment as he noticed his chainsword several feet away from him - behind Aelik. He was about to make a roll towards it when Aelik extended both her arms, fell into a ready stance and smiled as the blue-black biotic cloud around her seethed, rippling slightly.

"You, Lady Justicar," Zaeed said, not taking his eyes off his dropped sword, "fight like a woman possessed by the Doom Slayer himself."

"That is a compliment, I imagine?"

"It is."

"Is our duel over, Lord Massani?"

"Would you like it to be?"

"I will admit, that I am enjoying this," Aelik said, shifting between several stances, some of which Wrex remembered from his fight with her. "If you're not inconvenienced by it, I wouldn't mind continuing. Neither of us has, after all, struck the other."

"True enough!" Zaeed shouted, raising both his arms in front of his head; he charged towards Aelik, throwing lightning-speed jabs and attempting to push her away from his sword; Aelik pursed her lips as she counterattacked with a barrage of furious biotic punches and snapping kicks, darting once more all around the human and peppering him with assaults from above, below, and every side.

Four minutes and five seconds into the duel, Aelik stood, panting slightly with both fists outstretched, touching the back of Zaeed's head; he blinked, and shook his head.

"You, Justicar Aelik, I...how do you move like that?" Zaeed asked, gasping for breath.

"Biotics," Aelik replied, doing her best to stop her legs from shaking. "And over a thousand years of both practice and...practical application of my skills."

"Slayer's blessings, Justicar - if you already can fight like that I'm almost afraid on the demons' behalf to see what our martial power our magics and training will give you," Zaeed said, shaking his head. "Alright," he said, after a moment, "you've all passed! Congratulations. Clearly not all of you are on Lady Aelik's level - but we all have things to learn, myself included. Oh, Slayer. That was a lot more tiring than I thought it'd be," Zaeed said, slumping to the floor. "Who's hungry?"

The room filled with murmurs of assent, and Zaeed sighed before he got back to his feet. "Okay. Well, recruits, I'm proud to say that the lot of you have all done very well. Before I start boring you with procedure and the like, though, how about I show you lot to your rooms and we debrief over some food?" Zaeed stumbled over to his armour, sealed himself in, and returned to the group with a warm smile on his scarred face. "Oh, and I almost forgot: welcome to the Foreign Legion, recruits."