Location: Planet Gellik, Outer Council Space
February 2178
"This place is a cesspit," Jondum Bau muttered as he carefully stepped over a body lying across what passed for a sidewalk in this ramshackle city.
"Whatever do you mean?" The hulking form following huffed with feigned perplexity. "The air is heavy with rotting vegetation and the swamp gas mixing with all the radioactive waste creates such a heady aroma. I thought you'd feel right at home frog face"
"Ha very funny you brainless lizard. I'll have you know that the spawning pools of-"
"Play nice boys," Lasiira laughed as she paralleled their progress a block away. "We're almost there."
The stadium was, like everything else on this forgotten planet, in a sad state. One entire wall had collapsed but that didn't stop enterprising ticket vendors from propping cheap bleachers amongst the rubble.
The rise and flow of the cheering and howling from the crowds washed over the three as they converged on the stadium.
"Choices?" Lasiira offered as she approached nonchalantly towards the small group of security guards stationed in front of the ticket office. They were the typical mix of Mercs, two Batarians, a Turian and a Human. The Spectre altered her walk to add more sway, drawing a couple appreciative wolf whistles.
"Always preferred subtlety myself but," the Salarian sighed, knowing that was not going to happen. " Given your particular skill sets…"
"Kill em all!" Raik Holdrek roared in bloodlust as he biotically charged into their midst and unleashed a massive shock wave. The guards never stood a chance.
Lasiira just smirked as she ran past them and into the interior.
The three moved quickly and efficiently, much to the confusion of the guards as they could not coordinate a response. Jondum, however much he might disdain their brutal approach to combat, complimented them perfectly with well placed Inferno Grenades and Tech Overloads.
"Target is just ahead," confirmed Lasiira as they smashed through another group of helpless mercs. She skidded through the door into a large circular room.
Chained to a crucifix near the far wall struggled their target. Spectre Saren Arterus didn't look much worse for the wear considering he had been missing for two weeks. A gag covered his lowered face and he shook his head violently. Muffled howls and curses crossed the open area towards them but they could not decipher it.
"Given the relatively easy time we've had so far and the lack of a 'grand finale' I'm assuming trap?" The Salarian's omni tool was pinging away. "Structural support? Stable. Floors? Lot's of Bobby traps and pitfalls but stable. Ceiling? Uh oh."
"Why do I actually feel anxious when a Salarian says uh oh?" Holdrek fingered his shotgun, eyes casting up to the ceiling.
The Turian Spectre across from them groaned and hung his head as a creaking grind began below them and the floor shuddered. With a lurch the entire room began moving upwards like a huge elevator and the ceiling cycled open with a choking wave of dirt and debris.
"And now all you Renegades, Scum and general Dregs of Society! I give you the event that you've all been waiting for!" The announcer's voice was quite good. Very cultured and sophisticated and, definitely, feminine. The crowds stretching out around them howled and cheered feverishly, egged on by the rhythmic rumbling of four equidistant drums that teams of Vorcha pounded away in perfect tempo.
"A lot of planning has gone into this!" the Salarian observed loudly.
"Should we congratulate them on being so prepared?" Holdrek was obviously 'in a mood'. He hated traps, especially obvious ones. "Although I will admit. To be able to orchestrate the capture of a Spectre and use it to lure in more is quite a feat. And ominous."
"Agreed," Lasiira's twin SMG's were out as she slowly moved towards them. "Back to back for now boys. Holdrek, prepare to take point."
The drums reached a crescendo and finished with a flourish before continuing in a low subharmonic rumble. The roars of the crowd lowered as the announcer began again, words low and menacing. "You've all heard of them. You've all feared them. They're the ones that strike from the shadows. The ultimate hand of Law but yet no beholden to any Law of their own. Judge. Jury. Executioners. Spectres…"
There was a poignant pause. The silence was thick as everyone, even Saren,still strapped to his cruciform, waited for the next revelation.
"And Krogan? Hi! I've always loved Krogans! You guys are like my total Heroes!"
Some rather confused shouts and a lot of low rumbling followed, even the drummers skipping a few beats before finding their rhythm again.
"Uhm sorry guys, that was totally off script...uhm oh what the hell. Sorry Krogan guy. Kind of on the wrong side of things here so yeah. Welcome to your Death Spectres!"
The drums began thrumming again, quickly pulling the crowd back into the throes of blood frenzy.
"They think they are better," the voice began again. Once more in the cold dispassionate cadence. "They've never known terror themselves. They've never thought of what might happen if their enemies organized. If their enemies gained tactics and strategy. If the most violent, aggressive creatures became militant. So cheer for that fear has come to fruition! Cheer for the Beasts of Heshtok!"
"Heshtok! Heshtok!"
"Heshtok?" Jondum began as he rapidly reconfigured his SMG for Incendiaries. "Heshtok, Vorcha homeworld. Would stand to reason we will be facing mainly Vorcha possibly Krogan support but the militant? Savages, tribal, raw fury, no tactics...insufficient hypothesis."
"Stow it frog face," muttered Holdrek. "Trying to think here. Something about that's familiar."
The floor of the arena began to vibrate as barricade after barricade erupted from the ground, surrounding them. High pitched snarls and hisses were everywhere as the walls opened and figures, many figures began rushing forwards into cover. Vorcha.
"Problematic!" yelled the Salarian as he brought his SMG up. "Well equipped! Same design of trench coats denotes unit familiarity and funding! Use of cover denotes tactical knowledge! We must-" he paused, doing a double take as the Krogan began laughing. "Have you quite lost it or...reanalyzing. You mean to betray us?"
"Hardly," Holdrek continued to chuckle as he hoisted his shotgun over his shoulder and abandoned his cover so he could look out over the barricades.
"Hey you guys!" He bellowed, ignoring the few shots in his direction. "Morell you old scallywag! Where are you?"
An angular head popped up on his left, head cocked quizzically as it hooted. The few shots stopped. "You know Big Boss?"
"Of course I know Big Boss! I am Holdrek of Clan Raik. Are you Ruk or Druk? Can never tell you guys apart. Morell! Get out here you worthless sack of scales!"
"Druk! I'm Druk!" The Vorcha was practically jumping up and down in delight. "Krogan guy is friend of Druk!" He bellowed to his companions who were also now all up and hooting and jabbering. "Krogan guy friends now our friends! Not Food!"
"Indeed laddie 'twould seem so!" An impressively deep voice for a Vorcha called out from the halls below. "Let's 'ave a looksee now shall we?"
Out strode a Vorcha unlike none other. Totally erect, proud bearing, confident, clad in a trenchcoat pushed back at both hips to reveal massive pistols. He carried a strange tricorn hat in one hand.
The Arena was completely silent, for the second time in as many minute. One of the Vorcha drummers popped his head out over the rails.
"What we do boss?" It yelled. "We drum to scare food! These guys not food?"
"Not yet boys!" The odd Vorcha sketched a salute before them. "Color Sargent Pyke Morell atcha service." he inclined his head and winked at Lasiira. "G'day good sir Krogan, Salarian and fair Asari lassie. What this be 'bout then"
Holdrek reared his head back and bellowed in laughter. He hunkered down and beckoned the Vorcha forward. "Now I have some words for you," he whispered gruffly, pointedly pitching his voice so it would not be overheard by the Salarian. "As there is darkness in the universe there must also be light. You once vowed to assist those who stood between the darkness and the light. The time is coming when all will plunge into darkness. Will you now heed the Gray?"
The Vorchas eyes grew wide as he looked back at the Krogan in wonder. "Bloody 'ell. I've been 'eating those words ring since I was a whee pup" Drawing himself up he thumped his fist across his heart. With several hoots all the other Vorcha followed likewise. "What are your orders Holdrek o'Clan Raik?"
The Krogan grinned and waved his arms to encompass the crowds as he whirled in a circle. "Warriors of the 1st Heshtok!" He bellowed. "I give you your food!"
Pyke laughed evilly and pulled out both his pistols. "You heard the Krogan! Rip into them! It's feedin' time!"
"Not part of the program! NOT PART OF THE PROGRAM!" Screamed the announcer. "Totally awesome though! Love you Krogan guy! Uhm, sorry degenerate scum types," she began as the reversal began to sink in accompanied by the ear splitting screams as kamikaze Vorcha drummers began launching themselves out of the towers into the crowds and those below began to climb. "Looks like you're on your own!"
Holdrek reached out and grabbed Pyke by the collar of his trench coat as he prepared to charge off after his kin.
"That announcer," he pointed to the opaque booth. "I want her alive. With all her parts intact. Not even a bite. Not one. Understand!"
"Jolly good sirah," affirmed the colorful Vorcha as he scampered off hooting and hissing at his coverage. Pausing just long enough to yell at his minions to tally ho and something about bloody vinegar he tore off into the panicked crowds.
Holdrek turned to his companions. Lasiira raised an eyebrow, jawline visibly twitching.
"We're going to have a long talk after this Krogan," she said slowly and evenly. "A very long and informative talk."
""Eh, I'm good," Jondum shrugged. "Vorcha with delusional notions of pre spaceflight Human Barbarous Privateer life? Got nothing. Blood and vinegar to you as well I guess." He gestured to the still bound Turian Spectre. "Shall we?"
As one they began running across the rapidly emptying arena floor only to come skidding to a halt again to the sounds of the floor once again shifting. Another shaft opened, the grinding bringing up another platform.
Six figures stood on the newly raised ground. Four were Krogan, three heavily armored and helmeted brooding Grunts and the other with a vibrant purple Crest who scowled at the trio with open hostility. The final two, however, drew the most attention. One stood proudly, pose entirely rigid with a chain in one hand that looped around the other's neck. He was a Humanoid though whether Batarian or Human was unknown. The other was a naked Human female crouched at his feet, one arm wrapped around his knee as she slowly rocked back and forth. A visor-less helmet covered her head and large bands of black metal were looped around her wrists and neck.
Jondum leaned in close to the Asari so they were partially covered by Holdrek's back. His omni tool flashed to life with vibrant blue flares pulsing all overs the woman's body signature.
"Careful, " he muttered, just high enough for both of them to hear. "Sensory deprivation helmet and some of the strongest neural inhibitors I've ever seen. She may be a Fury Biotic."
The Krogan grunted in affirmation, his sharp intake of breath signalling the beginning of his own biotic energies charging.
Lasiira's blood felt like ice and it pounded through her veins. Extremely unstable and very, thankfully, rare a Fury was said to have almost infinite amounts of Element Zero coursing through their bodies. For all intents and purposes they were super biotics, able to sustain their powers for hours before exhaustion and with the endurance that would see most either collapse or even were dark rumors of organizations and governments attempting to create their own types but so far all had been deemed failures. The raw biotic fury had literally torn them apart from the inside, reduced to gibbering wrecks or catatonic.
Until now.
Gathering her own energies, the Asari Spectre began to move away from her companions as Jondum even sidled closer to Holdrek as he rapidly switched his loadout to include Biotic Nullifier grenades. She almost smirked, leave it to a Salarian to come to a battle prepared for literally every contingency.
The helmetless Krogan spread his arms wide and advanced.
"Is he about to do what I think he's gonna do?" Lasiira sighed and looked at her companions. Holdrek dragged his palm over his face as Jondum snickered.
"Seriously reptile. What is it with your species and grandiose speeches?"
"People!" The Krogan roared. "Feel privileged to be a witness of this great new chapter of history unfo-." His head and the upper half of his body exploded covering everyone in gore.
In the stunned silence that followed came a raucous shriek of laughter from the stands.
"BOOM! HEADSHOT!"
"Oh yeah, now I remember. Ruk's the one with the Missile Launcher!," Holdrek rumbled happily. He began hopping from foot to foot as the other three Krogan bellowed and began to charge. His own biotics began to shimmer around him. "Hey frog face! You follow claw ball?"
"Who doesn't?"
"Buenos Aires Tigers! Flip Six Three Hole!" The Krogan roared as he was surrounded by biotic energy and charged forwards to meet them head on.
Understanding dawned on the Salarian's features as he quickly began running behind Holdrek, building up speed as he rapidly scrolled through his omni tool. With a yell he jumped right at Holdrek's back. His companion hunched forward and flared his biotics in a shockwave that caught Jondum right at the apex of his leap. Corkscrewing through the air he sailed right over the stunned Krogan who all stopped to stare upwards. Three perfectly placed incendiary grenades landed right between their shoulder and neck plates. With howls of dismay they all attempted to shake them off but the delay time was incredibly short. Three muffled explosions later and three Krogan corpses missing mostly everything above the waist toppled to the ground as the Salarian landed gracefully in a theatrical manner, one hand on the ground and the other swept behind him.
"Headshot indeed," he sniffed haughtily.
A slow clapping came from behind him. The last standing opponent had barely moved, the Human slave still crouching beside him.
"Well done Spectres! And you as well Krogan of Clan Raik. Though unexpected your involvement is appreciated."
"I do not have the time or inclination for explaining everything that has led you to this point. And I have no desire to fight you either. But, orders are orders I'm afraid and, sadly, those pulling the strings have decreed you need to be 'disciplined'."
He reached down and tapped the back of the girl's helmet that promptly retracted and folded into a small cube in his hand. The Nullifiers also retracted, just leaving small implant nodes. A pale, young face looked up at them, eyes wide. The Handler caressed her jawline and she moaned happily as she leaned into it.
"Now my pet, these people want to hurt me. Are you going to let them hurt me?"
The girl gasped and reared up, lines of energy flickering wildly around her. Her eyes began to glow white as she advanced towards them.
"And the man in the back yelled everyone attack," whispered Lasiira before her whole world went white.
"Menta, that hurts!" The little girl cried as the surge of biotic energy sent her tumbling backwards.
"Of course it does child," the older Asari sighed. "Which is why you need to learn to strengthen your Barriers." Her body began to surge with biotic energy as the girl once again took up a defensive pose. "Remember Lasiira, the key to maintaining a Barrier is not to try to stop the energy being directed at you but to redirect it. Now, defend yourself!"
A white pulse flashed at her.
"Again!"
"Again!"
What's this?
It's a memory within a memory my love.
You can do that?
Yes 'I' can do that. Now hush, there's much more you need to see.
Jondum was down arms crossed over his chest, the slow rise and fall of ragged breathing the only sign that he was still alive.
Holdrek was on his knees, the thin flicker of his own barriers struggling to hold back the violent white biotic surges.
Lasiira alone still stood against the storm, a sheen of sweat covered her face as she gritted her teeth and again managed to deflect the tidal wave of power flung at her.
The girl stood in the middle of a Maelstrom of her own creation. Almost effortlessly she continued to hurl shockwaves of pure white biotic energy at the Asari Spectre.
"You're quite good," conceded the Handler from behind the Fury. "Very few have lasted this long and hardly any have actually been still standing. You should congratulate yourself."
"I will soon," Lasiira managed to grasp defiantly. "Very soon. Over your corpse!"
The Handler laughed and looked like he was about to respond but was cut off by the squeal of an overstressed loudspeaker.
"Uhm hi, scary slave guy?" It was the same announcer from the start of this encounter, now a lot less confident sounding.
"My new Master bids you to pull your head out of your own posterior for a moment and look around."
The slave girl paid no heed, still following her last order she continued to concentrate on the Spectre.
The Handler slowly turned as he took in row upon row of rigidly standing Vorcha in a semi circle around him, all with their rifles pointed, more or less, in his direction. He spread his arms wide and laughed.
"Try it you fools!" He taunted loudly. "You will only bring about your own destruction that much sooner!"
"Many have tried," the Vorcha retorted. "Still here and they ain't. Take him down lads!"
The Handler all but disappeared in the hail of fire. The Slave, finally noticing her master's predicament, shrieked and redirected her attention to him. As her concentration shifted Lasiira gathered the last of her strength into a warp blast that hit the girl squarely between the shoulders. Jondum surged to his feet and threw two Nullifier grenades at her. She collapsed, writhing in agony as the biotic effects rapidly drained her body. The Salarian was beside her in an instant, speaking rapidly and softly as he rested a hand on her shoulder. With a final shuddering sigh the girl went still. Shaking his head sadly he pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the Turian Spectre who had stayed chained throughout the entire events and had emerged pretty much unscathed besides being half covered by Krogan gore.
Holdrek knelt by her other side, quickly checking to see if she was alive before grunting sadly and turning his attention towards where the Handler had been standing. He was dead, not surprisingly. The helmet had been ripped apart by the tempest of gunfire and Holdrek found himself looking at a young Human, not much older in fact than the now dead biotic slave girl.
Wearily, he turned and began tromping back towards the entrance of the arena.
"Grab your baby Spectre and let's get out of here," he grunted. "Nothing left now except animal and Vorcha fodder."
The Krogan looked up at the announcer booth and waved an arm. "Morell! Bring that 'person' down here! It's time for a talk!"
"Erm, ahh well 'bout that sirrah," the eclectic Vorcha began stumblingly. "That there may be just a whee bit more difficult. Wouldn't happen to know a tech or two, maybe one with a crowbar if ya take my meaning?"
So what was all that?
My first encounter with the Awakened.
Awakened? Sounds like some kind of emo band name.
Emo? Ahh, I see. You Humans are so quaint.
Strained, quiet tones. I thought. I believed that thing for a moment was Talitha and that you were showing me her death.
Soothing reassurance. Never my warrior. That is not my tale to tell.
So, what are these Awakened?
I'm not sure. Yet. They hide in the darkness. Moving slowly and gathering their strength. They have been active for a very long time and have been waiting and biding their time. Holdrek knows more, a lot more, then he's telling me but, who am I to judge him? When all is said and done he and his kind owe me nothing. Mental sigh. This galaxy is ancient yet where are the ancient races? We Asari like to think of ourselves as old and wise but we are ignorant, blinkered fools that chose to live in the ruins of those that came before without thought as to why they aren't there now.
And what about this Gray that Holdrek speaks of?
He will be the one to tell you that. Or not. His choice really, not mine. As to how I came to be...where I was. Well that's actually fairly simple. Straight up ambush and I walked right into it. Too focused on the task and didn't see the trap until it was too late. Dizzying pictures of endless cycles of rape and torture. Being forced to watch as others of all ages and race were brought before her and brutally executed. They held each other though it all. Every horrible image and instant until finally, mercifully, it was over.
So..what do we do now?
Well I'm thinking that now would be a good time for you to wake up?
Sounds like a plan. I will see you on the other side. Right?
Yes my warrior. I will be there with you. Always.
A/N
Menta- Asari for mentor/teacher
Badda big boom?
Good old Pyke Morrell. Love that guy. I strongly urge you to read Beacons Effect by Tusken1602 to see Pyke in all his glory.
Couple little hint drops and foreboding of things to come. Originally this was going to be two chapters but I decided to splice them together and drop most of Lasiira's captivity. Not really needed for progressing the story and yeah, not big on describing the rape and torture thing.
Anyways, hope you liked it and please review or drop me a pm. Would love to hear what you think!
Seabo76