Chapter 28: Messiah Complex
The Patriarch's heavy foot-falls threatened to dent through the steel flooring of the halls in the Omega Blue Suns HQ as he stomped his way to the medical wing. He exuded a palpable aura of unbridled rage that made all in his way quickly step aside, hoping that they do not become the subject of said rage.
Several hours ago, he was contacted by his 'sister', Tarrana Ionet, more widely known as the commander of the Eclipse. She had brought him the news that not only had she failed in destroying the Normandy, but that the ship had escaped along with Commander John Shepard.
Needless to say, that last part made him very, very upset.
Fortunately for Tarrana, she had come up with a plan to rectify the situation. A plan that arguably benefited him with his other troubles as well, he reluctantly admitted. The count down from the Illusive Man's ultimatum was slowly ticking away, and he was making little to no progress in his search. He needed to make noise. Noise enough to mask their true intentions even further. This 'War for Omega' was a slap fight, he scoffed. Something needed to happen to up the stakes and intensify the violence. What he needed was somebody ruthless and barbaric enough to turn this slap fight into a real war. Fortunately, he knew just the man who could make that happen.
Unfortunately, said man was in the medical wing, paralyzed from the neck down and living only through life support.
A mere set-back, the Patriarch thought.
The Patriarch rounded the corner and passed through the doors that housed the medical wing, the guards who were stationed there were quick to get out of his way. The facility was sizable, even if it only spanned one level, capable of going up against most hospitals on Omega with their state of the art equipment and in house medical personnel. Not that that was saying much. But from what the Patriarch could see, it was more of a charnel house than a place of healing. The screams of pain of the critically injured, as well as the frantic barking of doctors in their blood splattered uniforms, rose above the quiet groans of agony of the recovering patients who were strewn about on makeshift cots all over the floor. The place was bustling with more activity than it was designed for as the beleaguered medical team treated dozens of Blue suns troopers well past the capacity of the facility.
One of the doctors, an older human man, caught sight of him and immediately approached the Patriarch. "Ah, Patriarch. I understand that you are here to see the commander." He began, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. "Follow me, please." The Patriarch merely nodded, following the doctor without a word as they made their way past the maze of bodies all around them.
He was led deeper into the facility, leaving behind the wounded grunts and into an empty hallway lined with private rooms for the officers of the Blue Suns. The doctor stopped in front of one of the doors, flashing his omnitool to unlock and open it.
It was a small room with only one occupant, who was currently lying on a bed surrounded by various life support devices and numerous IV infusions running down from tubes overhead. The man's head stirred at the intrusion, but was otherwise immobile. He groaned, what may have been words coming out as gurgled murmurs thanks to the oxygen tube jammed down his throat, forcing air into his lungs.
"Here we are… His injuries were extensive, but we managed to just barely stabilize his condition. Medical science has only come so far." The doctor began, walking into the room and inviting the Patriarch to follow suit. "I believe you have already met Intensive Care Patient number 7, better known as Commander Lucas Miller." He said as the Patriarch stepped inside.
The Patriarch couldn't help but nod his head approvingly at the sight. Aria was always nothing but thorough. "Thank you, doctor." The since then silent krogan boomed suddenly, almost making the doctor jump in surprise. "Leave us."
"But I-…" the doctor began to say, only to be silenced by the Patriarch's piercing glare. "Of course, sir." He corrected himself, hurriedly backing away to the door. "Please, take as much time as you need." The old human nearly tripped over himself in panic, eventually making it outside and closing the door behind him, leaving the Patriarch alone with his patient.
The Patriarch scoffed before turning his attention back to Miller. "Hello, Lucas." He said walking up to Miller's bedside. "The doctors told me all about your injuries. It was a bit long-winded, truth be told, but I do remember the parts about the irreversible paralysis and the permanent dependency on life-support. After what Aria did to you, most people would have thought of you dead. But, you are still alive, if you can call this living, anyway." He laughed, watching the man struggle as much as he could in this state. "Shame. The greatest battle Omega has ever seen, and here you are, stuck in the sidelines. Meanwhile, the other commanders lead the show on your turf, hogging glory that should have been rightfully yours. How the very station shakes from this warfare! Can you feel it? Can you feel it, helplessly strapped down to that bed?"
Miller let out more incoherent gurgles, his head lolling about to and fro, as if trying his hardest to reply to the patriarch. But try as he might, the only thing that came out of his mouth was more gurgling.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that last part. Maybe you should speak up some more?" The Patriarch replied, casually inspecting the devices that were keeping Miller alive as the man groaned in protest. "As enjoyable as it is to torture you like this, I'm actually here on business. I'd appreciate it if you took some time from staring blankly at the ceiling to hear me out."
The Patriarch started to pace around the bedside, arms behind his back. "Look at you." He snorted. "Yes, right now, you're certainly wondering why I didn't let you die. Why, indeed? Most people would have chosen death over what you're going through." He paused. "Let me be blunt: You being mauled by Aria was very fortunate for me in the long run. You see, now you're my little insurance policy."
For the love of hell, will he ever shut up? Miller could only roll his eyes, occasionally choking on the tube down his throat as the Patriarch went on and on about some kind of grand plan. See, this was the problem with those types with the thirst for power. They get so wrapped up on some kind of vision or big plan that they think they're something special. And boy do they love to tell everybody about it. They act all high and mighty, like some kind of demigod gracing mere mortals with their pompous presence.
As for him? Well, Miller was a simple guy. All he ever wanted was money and women, and usually the best way to get both was with a little applied violence. And Miller was very, very good with applying violence. So good in fact, that he made a living out of it, quickly rising up the ranks of the Blue Suns and eventually rising up as commander of its Omega chapter. Vido Santiago liked to call the Blue Suns private military contractors or security consultants. That's just a fancy way of saying 'organized group of thugs'.
God, the old krogan is going on and on. Maybe he did really die and this was hell. It's kind of disappointing, really, because of the severe lack of devil bitches. Not to mention that he can't have a boner anymore. God damn it.
Suddenly, his view of the ceiling was blocked by the Patriarch's face looming over him.
"Hmmm, you can still understand me, can't you?" The Patriarch began. "The doctors said nothing about brain damage."
Miller wanted to tell the old man to go fuck himself, but all he could do was groan gutturally. Huh, maybe if the Patriarch believed he was brain damaged, he'd shut the fuck up.
"It doesn't matter, I suppose." The Patriarch concluded. "One of two things is going to happen before I leave this room, Miller. Both of which are things you want very much to happen."
Miller was wondering what the old fart was talking about when the Patriarch suddenly grabbed him by the neck with one hand and pulled out the tube in his throat with the other. He felt the tube scrape and cut the inside of his throat on its way out, tasting blood mixed with his pooling drool. He tried speaking, but his voice box was still fucked up, leaving him to babble incoherently. The patriarch pulled him up to a sitting position, his arms hanging limply to his sides.
"How pitiful." The Patriarch chided, tossing the tube aside. Miller's face started to turn blue as he gasped for breath, too weak to breathe on his own without the respiratory intubator. "Bear the pain, Miller, it's about to get much, much worse."
Miller's eyes went wide as the Patriarch's free hand started to squirm unnaturally. His palm started to swell like a bubble; his scaly hide stretched to its limit, until it burst in a small cloud of blood and flesh. The flesh underneath was pulsating, and a long, bony spine erupted from the gaping wound.
"Normally, the process needs to be imbued from Father himself." The Patriarch began casually, as if nothing about this scene was surreal or terrifying. "But we Children can bestow his blessing unto others, albeit on a much more limited scale. Not enough to turn you into my brother, but still enough for my purposes to be served."
Drawing back his clawed hand, the Patriarch stabbed Miller in the chest with the spine, piercing his heart, blood splattering everywhere. Miller knew he shouldn't be able feel pain from the neck down anymore, but for some reason his chest burned with agony.
"I am loaning you a portion of my strength." The Patriarch said. "You will either die in unbearable pain, or you will be reborn into something greater. For both our sakes, I hope it is the latter."
The skin around Miller's wound started to burn, literally, as the smell of cooking human flesh started to fill the room. He wanted to scream in agony but nothing came out of his mouth, not even the gurgling moans. The heat was filling him up, unbearable and intense. It swelled in his chest until he felt it start to spread across his body, flowing through his veins.
The pain was indescribable, but it did not kill him. Instead, it allowed him to linger in torment. Miller grabbed the Patriarch's arm, trying to pull the spine from out of his heart. Struggle as he might, the old krogan easily overpowered him. He had to get some leverage over-.
Wait.
Miller pushed the pain aside for the moment and looked at both of his hands, perforated by the many intravenous lines stuck to him. He flexed his fingers then closed them so tight that his knuckles cracked and turned white. They hurt like hell, but he could move them again. "What the fuck is this?"
"Ah, you're still alive. That is a good sign." The Patriarch commended. The old krogan started to slowly pull his arm away from the wound on Miller's chest. But like a bee abandoning its stinger, the spine remained lodged in his heart, bloody strings of sinew snapping as it tore away from the Patriarch's hand. The wound started to sizzle, glowing with strange energies as it closed. "It would appear that Father's cells have accepted you, for now."
"Who is this… father?" Miller said weakly, his voice slowly coming back to him. "What… What did you do to me?"
"Does it matter?" The Patriarch replied.
"No. I guess not." He said, still trying to take in what was happening to him. "So, what happens now?" This was unbelievable. He could move again. He could feel again. He could fuck again. And even better, he could kill again!
"Now?" The Patriarch laughed darkly. "Now we're going to make you the Commander of the entire Blue Suns. For starters…"
"And now what makes you so sure I'm just going to dance to your tune?" He replied cockily. "I could just- urk!" Like a puppet being cut from its strings, Miller fell limply back on the bed, his body insensate and immobile.
"An excellent question." The Patriarch replied, watching Miller start to gasp for breath. "Like I said, this power I bestowed upon you was a loan. A loan I can take back anytime I want to."
"Alright, you made your point! I just wanted to be clear on the details…!" Miller struggled to say. And just like that, he could move again. "Okay…" He panted, trying to reorient himself. "So, you want me to kill the others?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Problem? It's practically a dream job. It already sounds like a good time." He said, unceremoniously pulling the IV lines out of his arms. Miller grinned psychotically as the wounds slowly sizzled and closed, just like the one on his chest. Whatever the Patriarch did to him, he was starting to like it a lot. "Heh, now isn't that just something?"
"Indeed."
"I'm not going to lie to you; I don't know what the fuck is going on and I've had drug trips that weren't as freaky as this." He announced. "But if I'm going to go along with this, I'm going to need my gear and about several tons of explosives."
"I figured you might." The Patriarch said, activating his omnitool. "It's already taken care of, so let me get you up to speed on what's been happening while you were indisposed…"
The streets of Omega were usually bustling with life. But tonight, death was taking the center stage. Gunfire and explosions rang out in the night, tailed with the screams and battle cries of soldiers on both sides as the united mercenary forces did battle against Aria's pirates. The dead were quickly piling up on both sides as they fought with tooth and nail. They fought in the cramped corridors, in the open plazas, in the maintenance shafts, on the rooftops and catwalks, all jostling for control of what little territory they could manage to capture and recapture. Wrecked vehicles and just about anything that can withstand direct gunfire were used as hastily erected fortifications, garrisoning soldiers and heavy weapons emplacements, serving as small islands of relative sanctuary in the storm of bullets.
"This is Capt. Gavorn to all units, stand fast!" Praitor Gavorn willed his men as he unloaded with his sniper rifle, taking cover behind an overturned car. "Regroup on my position! We can't let them through!"
"It's no use, Captain!" His salarian lieutenant, Hazzik, yelled over the gunfire, "They're overrunning the Feraz and Gozer districts! Only be a matter of time until they outflank us!"
"I'll be the judge of that, you hear me?!" He roared, "Take four squads and deal with it, Hazzik! Do whatever it takes; just don't let them past you!"
"Yes sir!" Hazzik saluted reluctantly.
"Go!" Gavorn commanded, swinging out of cover to give Hazzik some cover fire as he gathered the men he needed. His sniper rifle clicked empty and he discarded it without a thought, pulling out his vindicator assault rifle instead. "You want some of me?! Come on!" he taunted, gunning down trooper after trooper.
The battle was taking a turn for the worse as the Suns advanced deeper and deeper into the sector. Until the forces in the other sectors could establish a foothold, Gavorn and his men were the last bastion of defense before the mercs could spill out into the inner hive of Omega that was still (mostly) under Aria's loyalist forces control. If that were to happen, the fighting would only become bloodier and the advantage would go towards the mercenaries.
Gavorn's fears were confirmed when a voice yelled over the open frequency of the communicator. It was the one word he didn't want to hear at this point. "Tanks!"
"Son of a-!" he swore, seeing two six wheeled armored vehicles roll in from around the corner in the distance. Gavorn quickly identified them as light assault tanks, but nothing was 'light' about the payload they carried. Their main batteries swung around, aiming large cannon turrets in their general direction. "Duck and cover!" he announced, diving flat on the ground just a half second before cannon fire split the air. Body parts and scrap metal were sent flying as the tanks shelled their position.
Gavorn crawled behind cover past the corpses of two unlucky men, barking commands over his communicator as he shielded his face from the debris. "All heavies, the tanks are your main priorities! Sharpshooters, take out the gunners and infantry support! Aim for the view ports when you can!" he ordered, directing his men into firing positions. "Squads 3 and 7, you're in prime position to outflank them! Move, people!"
There was a series of hisses in the air as several rocket launchers unleashed their fury on the tanks, taking out the light armored vehicles in a chain of vicious explosions.
"Target down!" one voice called out.
"Direct hit!" said another.
Gavorn reloaded his guns, peering out of cover to view his men's handiwork. The two tanks were now nothing more than smoldering wrecks, the blaze illuminating the area in a dull orange light. "Good job, boys!" he said. "Move up to better firing positions while they regroup!"
"Captain! We've got incoming!" A batarian announced. "Vorcha!"
Gavorn smelled them before he could see them. "Fucking perfect…" He muttered to himself, watching as a wave of ravenous, slobbering vorcha rushed head long towards their lines with wild abandon. These vermin were relentless, and the mercs must be using them as cannon fodder while they regrouped. "Looks like they want some good old fashioned CQC, boys!" he said out loud, drawing out a long bayonet and latching it onto his assault rifle. "Oblige them!"
"Sir, yes sir!" The pirates yelled back, either attaching their own bayonets or wielding a knife in their off hand. Guns blazed even before the wave of vorcha could hit their line, cutting down the enemy by the dozens. But still they charged onwards, trampling over their dead and ignoring their wounds, red eyes glowing with rage.
Gavorn unloaded into the teeming mass of bodies that was quickly drawing closer and closer. "Here they come!" He announced, quickly reloading. "Fuck them up, boys!"
The two sides met head on in a collision of blood and curse words. Time lost all meaning as the battle stretched on for what seemed like days with no end in sight. They weren't losing, but they were far from winning it either.
Gavorn knew that as they are now, they may win this battle, but would most likely lose this war. The pirates of Omega needed their leader. He didn't believe the nasty rumors about her being dead, but her absence was still hurting their cause. Where was Aria T'loak?
There was a storm coming.
The Illusive Man could feel it in his bones as he stared idly into the cool light of the blue star. The report from General Petrovsky's expedition came back and he was pleased to hear that they had salvaged a substantial amount of Reaper technology. It wasn't the treasure trove he had hoped for, but it was sufficient to kick start his newest venture: Project Novus.
If humanity was to survive what was to come, then Cerberus needed to be ready. They were the forefront of Earth's defense; the vanguard of humans everywhere. If controlled, the Reaper tech could provide them with the edge they needed for the incoming invasion. There was still more salvageable technology to be had in the wreckage of the Collector home world past the Omega Relay. To ensure maximum efficiency, they needed to have a base of operations nearby, and there was not enough time to manufacture a new space station from scratch. One way or another, Omega was going to be that base of operations. The future of humanity depended on it.
He grabbed a glass of bourbon from the small table next to him and gingerly sipped the golden liquid, savoring the fiery sensation slither down his throat. Shepard was too naïve, much to The Illusive Man's disappointment. A sense of honor was the last thing one needed when fighting tooth and nail in a war for survival. Yes, he had to do whatever was necessary, no matter how unsavory it might appear. The Illusive Man didn't care if the present judged him to be a monster or a tyrant, a boogey man to scare little children into behaving. If that is what it took to save mankind, then so be it. It was history who would vindicate him as the savior of the galaxy.
There was a throat being cleared behind him, bringing him back from his thoughts. The Illusive Man didn't need to turn around to know who it was. It was the very personification of the means he was willing to take to achieve his ends. He took another sip of his whiskey before addressing the man. "I hope you have some good news for me."
"The senator seems to have committed suicide after her scandalous exploits were leaked into the extranet." Said the man behind him. "And right before she was about to begin her investigation of Cord-Hislop Aerospace, too."
"Tragic." The Illusive man replied with much satisfaction. The woman was snooping around where she wasn't supposed to, bringing unwanted attention to one of Cerberus' front corporations. That was the trouble with these younger politicians, so full of naïve idealism. He knew that disposing of her kind wasn't enough. They had to discredit everything she stood for; to ruin the image of purity and justice that they often carried with them. "Absolutely tragic."
"Isn't it just? The look on her face was priceless when I showed her the doctored vids…" Kai Leng said, barely holding in a sadistic laugh. "Who knew she had a fetish for young Elcor?"
"Enough." The Illusive man said, turning to face the man. Kai Leng was among the first products of his Project Novus. His body was cybernetically enhanced with numerous tech implants and augmentations, giving him the right tools to be the perfect assassin. However it was Leng's mean streak and cruelty that made the man into the perfect killer long before the cybernetics even touched him. Former N7, dishonorably discharged and savagely unrepentant about it. It made him the perfect candidate as his top assassin. "I have a new assignment for you; one that would require less discretion and give you more freedom and flexibility."
The man stood at attention at the last statement. "Yes sir?" Leng's voice was eager; it wasn't every day that he was offered free reign on his actions.
"I want you to rendezvous with General Oleg Petrovsky in the Terminus systems." He began. "I want you to assist him in taking control of Omega. Kill anybody who leads any form of resistance against Cerberus occupation."
"The Patriarch has betrayed you?"
"No. He hasn't shown his hand yet, but I'd rather have an ace up my sleeve." The Illusive Man replied.
"And what about Shepard?" The eagerness in Leng's voice was almost palpable.
"Your priority is Omega, however if you do encounter him…"The Illusive Man took a deep swig of his drink, downing the remaining contents in one go. "Make an example of him and the entire crew. Just leave me with a body to collect."
The smile on Leng's face was like a child on Christmas Eve. "Of course."
"Your shuttle to General Petrovsky's fleet will leave immediately." The Illusive man continued. "This is a high priority mission. Take Omega at all costs. You're dismissed."
"Sir." Kai Leng replied, saluting the Illusive Man before turning on his heel.
The Illusive Man watched as Kai Leng left the room, pouring himself another glass of bourbon. He knew damn well that he had just unleashed a rabid dog unto Omega. Taking the glass, he downed it in one shot. Whatever it takes, he reminded himself.
Setting aside the glass, he brought up a large holographic interface around him, streaming with data and information. Project Novus was a big part of preparing for the Reaper invasion, but it was not the only one. The Illusive man activated the long range communicator. It was time to check up on his other ventures.
The FTL communicator's interface shimmered to life on the floor in front of him, and a few moments later, Dr. Viktor Zsasz stepped into view. "Hello, Viktor." He said, lighting a cigarette.
"Illusive Man, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Zsasz replied.
"What's the status of Project Gemini?" The Illusive man asked. "I want those clones up and running, Viktor."
"The project is going better than was previously estimated and the subjects are thriving. We are progressing well ahead of schedule, as well." The bearded man said. "You will have your clone army sir, bred from the stock of humanity's finest specimens and imbued with the technical skills of only the most elite soldiers."
"This is good news." The Illusive man said, taking a deep puff of his cigarette and going over the data streaming on his feed. To combat the Reapers, the galaxy will have to be ready with as much hands as possible being capable of dealing with the threat, from logistics to frontline combat. However, with the current stance of the Council and the inaction of most every other species, the galaxy will most likely be caught with their pants down during the initial invasion. Project Gemini was an initiative designed to make a fully trained fighting force to take the worse of the first few months so that the forces of Earth could be given enough time to be ready. The cost of such an undertaking was draining Cerberus funds, but it was a necessary expense. "How soon can I expect the first batch to be ready?"
"A month, we could do so a week earlier, but I'd rather be thorough in my testing." Zsasz said, pacing around the holographic projector. "I must say, you will be quite pleased with the results."
"I'll be the judge of that, Viktor." He replied. Viktor Zsasz was eccentric to the point of lunacy, but his genius was undeniable. The man was one of the pioneers of Cerberus and one of his most trusted associates. That did not mean that he liked the man. "Now what about-?" He was interrupted by blaring alarms over on Zsasz's end. "What was that?"
Zsasz opened his omnitool and smiled. "Duty, and it calls to me."
"Damn it, Viktor, I've no patience for your games."
"Never you mind, sir." Zsasz replied. "Just one of the subjects exerting his free will a little too freely. Because of the importance of our work, we like to treat every little discrepancy with the utmost concern."
"See to it then." The Illusive man conceded, "I expect a full report on the project within the next solar day."
"Of course, sir." Zsasz said, bowing melodramatically. "You'll find that you will be getting more than what you asked for."
"With all your reassurances, Viktor, I hope that you do not disappoint." With a wave of his hands, the transmission ended, leaving him alone once more. Swiveling his chair, the Illusive Man turned back towards the light of the blue star.
There was a storm coming, and even with all this preparation, he could only hope that they were ready for it.
Dr. Zsasz smiled to himself as he regarded the blaring alarms and the gun fire resonating somewhere in the space station. Goosebumps travelled up his arm as he looked towards the entrance to his dark chambers. Gemini was getting closer and he could barely contain his excitement.
The Illusive Man was shrewd as shrewd can be, no doubt about that, but he was not infallible. His spies in Project Gemini were immediately dealt with, and he has since been feeding him fabricated information about the progress of his clone army. Sadly for him however, there was no clone army to be had. With a bit of subtle misinformation to the rest of the team, all of the resources the project has been given was solely devoted into creating one body, the perfect vessel for which to cultivate the perfect soldier. One that was greater than an entire clone army, sanctified with the blood of the Father.
A savior.
A messiah.
The Reapers, however, proved to be a more cunning enemy to try and outwit. Dr. Zsasz had taken every precaution, but the Reapers still found a way back into Gemini's head. They've somehow overridden Gemini from his slumber and were now using him to try and stop the Father's plans. An impressive feat and he expected nothing less of them. But for machines with the accumulated wisdom and knowledge of countless eons, this was a foolhardy attempt at preventing the inevitable.
Dr. Zsasz walked over to his desk and took a seat behind it, lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on its surface. His spectacles gleamed orange from the light of his terminals, the only source of illumination in the dark room. The gunfire had stopped now. He would be here any second.
The first thing he heard was the yelling just right outside his door. It was full of pain and suffering. It was punctuated by the sound of something heavy slamming against the metal door, warping it inwardly. There was another yell, this time a bloodied fist punched through the door, burning with unchecked energies.
"You!" Gemini roared at him from the hole he created.
"Me." Zsasz replied nonchalantly. "You could have knocked you know? Or is that what happens when you knock?"
"Shut up!" Gemini yelled back. He grabbed the opposite sides of the hole he made and began to rip apart a larger opening. "The voices! They won't stop! I have to kill you!"
"Come to me then, little brother." Zsasz said soothingly, leaning back on his chair as light started to stream in from outside through the larger hole Gemini was making, cutting through the darkness. "I'll make the voices go away…"
Gemini roared as the metal started to give easier and easier, crumpling under his strength. As soon as the hole was large enough, he hopped through it and immediately lunged at Dr. Zsasz, closing the distance between them with alarming speed. Drawing a fist back, he leapt over the large desk and hurtled towards his target. "DIE!"
Blood splattered on the walls, but his fist remained an inch shy of Dr. Zsasz's smiling visage.
"well now… It would seem that you missed." Dr. Zsasz chided.
"What?" Gemini asked in disbelief as his body remained suspended in thin air. He felt the burning energies that wrapped around him extinguish. Something was incapacitating him and suppressing his biotics.
Dr. Zsasz leaned back on his chair and casually pointed at Gemini's chest.
Gemini looked down, to see a clawed hand coming out of his chest, piercing him from behind. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt. Did somebody actually, finally, land a fatal blow on him?
"Oh not to worry." Zsasz said, dismissing Gemini's look of astonishment. "You should know by now that something like that won't kill you."
Come to think of it, Gemini thought, the clawed hand with it's three fingers was anything but human. "Who…?"
"Oh where are my manners!" Zsasz said, slapping his forehead as if he had just remembered something. "She was so quiet that I forgot she was here!"
Gemini looked over his shoulders to see a pair of sultry, predatory eyes stare right back at him. "A… Turian?" he asked weakly. What was a turian doing in a Cerberus space station?
"Not just any turian, mind you…" Zsasz said. "She is our sister! Her name is Silence, or at least that is what we call her. You'll find that she doesn't do much talking."
Silence merely blinked back at him, tilting her head to one side as she regarded him curiously. In a fluid motion, she suddenly pulled her arm out of his chest, causing him to slump over the desk, his blood quickly pooling on its surface and spilling over its edge, dribbling onto the floor
The voices in his head were becoming more frantic now. It was like being in the middle of a crowded room where everybody else was panicking and he was being thrown about by the chaos.
They ordered him, no, pleaded with him to move! To do anything! They just wanted him to get out of this situation!
No! Move, you insect!
So close, so close…!
You must not let him have his way!
KILL THE ALL!
He gritted his teeth as his head started throb in agony, surprisingly ailing him more than the gaping hole in his chest. He almost didn't notice the two hands grabbing the sides of his head.
"Shhh, fret not, dear brother…" Zsasz whispered consolingly. "Father will protect you."
It was only a trickle at first. A few drops barely rippling into the stormy sea of his mind.
And then the flood gate opened.
Something was surging into his mind, a great gust of wind that seemed to blow away the voices from his head, over powering the storm that was already brewing in there. The voices struggled with all their might, but try as they could, the force sent them hurtling away, echoing their curses into the void. The force was warm and soothing, like somebody had wrapped him up in a reassuring embrace.
Then, like tendrils creeping about, digging its way into the labyrinth of his mind, the force started to wrap itself around the images of his memory. Slowly but steadily, the blank spaces in his head started to fill out.
His name was John Shepard.
Just as he started to grasp this, there were other memories that started to overlay the ones that were already there. These were memories were different. It was like they were being grafted into his head. "No…" he murmured, taking a deep breath before yelling out. "NO!"
Gemini's hand shot up and grabbed an unwitting Zsasz by the neck, choking the man. "What are you doing!"
"My name is John Shepard and I will not be controlled again!" He roared, increasing the pressure of his grip. "Not by the Reapers! Not by Cerberus! And I will definitely not be controlled by a lowly human such as you!"
"Your name is…?" Zsasz started to say, before he slowly started to shake in realization. He then suddenly boomed in laughter, catching Gemini off guard. "Is that what you think, little brother?"
"Stop calling me brother, you worthless human!" Gemini snapped. "I only had one brother, and he is long dead!"
"Stop and think for a second…" Zsasz said, smiling despite the chokehold. "Would John Shepard really call somebody a 'lowly human?'"
"What are you talking about?" Gemini asked.
"It would be better to show you." Zsasz said, grabbing hold of the sides of Gemini's head once more.
The force came back stronger than before, slamming into Gemini's mind with twice power. The mental assault caused him to let go of Zsasz's neck as his mind tried to keep up with what was going on.
"You see, the Reapers were smart to retake you when they did." Zsasz explained to him. "They struck right in the middle of the mental graft, when your brain was the most vulnerable. Technically you are correct. Your body is, for all intents and purposes, John Shepard. A clone of him, anyway. But no, who you truly are is who I am showing you right now."
"Clone…?" Gemini whispered. "Then… These memories… These new ones… They are the ones that are truly mine?"
"Yes." Zsasz confirmed. "Your mind was the only thing we could salvage when you died, being transformed into data thanks to your augmentation by the Reapers. We tried to place it into a cloned body of yourself, but it could not thrive… But Shepard's body was different." He continued. "Shepard's exposure to the Prothean VI had somehow changed him at a genetic level, and your brainwaves resonated with his. I find it, deliciously ironic, don't you, Gemini?"
The temperature in the room slowly started to increase before Gemini was once more enveloped in an aura of crackling energy, sending Zsasz flying into the wall. The wound on his chest sizzled with heat as it started to heal and close itself, the runes etched on his skin shining with light. He turned to see Silence merely sitting on the floor, knees to her chest and staring at him intently.
"Ever since she found out just who you truly were, little brother, Silence just couldn't wait to meet you." Zsasz said, picking himself up from the floor. "Apparently, she's a big fan of you, Gemini."
In a flash, Zsasz was pinned to the wall as Gemini clutched him by the throat. "Do not call me your brother and do not call me Gemini." He snarled. "My name is Saren Arterius. For your sake, I hope you have a better explanation than the one you just gave me."
