Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. […] Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you [my purpose]! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul! - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights taken out of context and slightly edited to suit my needs.
Garrus was becoming increasingly concerned about Krul. As they inched closer to Thralog, his companion seemed to be growing progressively more agitated.
First it was the body guard. Krul leapt forward and slashed his throat. As the man crumpled, he stole the butt of his rifle and bashed his skull until it was nothing more than a conglomeration of blood and brain matter. That wasn't extreme in Garrus's book, not by a long shot. However losing one's cool and bringing a knife to a gun fight was. Krul was taking insane risks, darting out of cover at the slightest sign of retreat. He fought like a man possessed; with the skill of an elite soldier and an unquenchable rage, the likes of which Garrus had never seen before.
The further they progressed, the more vicious Krul became. If an opportunity arose, he'd risk life and limb to drive the knife in while maintaining mere inches from his opponent's face. Once again, he was taken back by the unfettered disgust Krul seemed to have for his own kind.
They inched forward. Most of the guards were batarian, along with a few krogan. Garrus and Mierin were in the front ranks, while the squishies hung back, sniping and tossing grenades. Everyone aside from Krul at least. He was abiding by their deal, even if he pushed the very definition of the meaning 'combat' while doing it. Clearly, he was hoping to kill every soul in the joint before they had a chance to surrender.
When a small group of batarians raised their hands, screaming for mercy; Garrus disarmed and tied them. He turned to Krul. "They're off limits."
The batarian said nothing. However, a spiteful, rancorous shadow crossed his face before they pressed forward.
Ahead, a group of commandos flanked a pair of krogan were attempting to set up turrets. Krul's omni tool, in a burst of orange and blue, overloaded the machines. They backfired, setting all but the krogan aflame. Despite the imminent danger the krogan presented, Krul snatched the opening the distracted commandos presented and rushed forward to slit their throats. "Are you mad Krul!?" Garrus bellowed after him. "You have two…."
"Just shoot 'em and be done with it." Grundan shouted back. As he summoned a pair of drones to harass the krogan charge, he somersaulted backwards and landed behind a poker table.
"You's been holdin' back on us Krul." Ripper clamored through the gunfire. "You's gots some sweet moves."
"Never show your hand until it counts kid."
After another thirty minutes of intense fighting, Garrus pulled his men back and ordered Sensat to toss some smoke grenades into the fray. Once the hostiles were blinded, he finished them with off with the help of his visor. "Alright men. Ahead, there's only one heat signature left. And I'd bet good money it's the illustrious Mister Mirki'it."
The smoke cleared to reveal a raised, red velvet platform. The architecture seemed to speak as though it housed a king. With the fighting over, Krul removed his breather and proceeded behind Garrus as they scaled the podium.
When they came upon Thralog, the batarian was raging. "Archangel! Heard about you. The fuck is this for? What'd I ever do to you? What do you want? Creds? Is that what you want? This some shakedown? Fuckin' asshole coulda asked. Instead of blowing my staff away. Now you're gonna..."
"Never mind me. I'm here for a friend. Something tells me you two are acquainted."
"Doubt we have mutual acquaintances." Thralog hissed. It was at that exact moment Grundan stormed from behind Garrus, shotgun leveled. "N-no…. It can't be."
"What." Krul's voice was practically venomous. "See a ghost?" His hands moved like liquid. The next thing any of them knew, a boot knife had Thralog's arm pinned against the wall. The man howled as Grundan twisted the blade, hissing. "Think I wouldn't find you? Should have double checked whatever poor sod they executed in my place."
"Ikalem" Thralog spat.
"Hegemony cur." Another twist.
"W-AA-W-What?" Countless sharp teeth bit into a brown-grey lip, droplets of blood splattered, as he gurgled. "Come on some eternal quest for answers? Here to kill me?"
"No." Inches from Thralog's face, Krul reached into his pocket and pulled out a kerchief. He balled it and shoved into the man's mouth. "You're just going to listen. I don't care why you did it. I don't care if it was for creds, a life of luxury, or a good fuck. I don't give a flying shit if The Hegemony's best tied you down and burned it out of you. We all had an out, a pact. I'm here to collect what's due. For your crimes against the batarian people, for every value you betrayed, for breaking your oath, I'm here to sentence you Thralog Cen Mirki'it. You will find no eternal peace. No warmth at the end. Your soul is doomed to wither and die. I'm here to take your eyes."
With a shocking amount of force, Thralog began violently lashing out. He scarcely managed to throw Krul off before he whipped out his shotgun and pressed it into Mi'krit's other arm. With a resounding blast the arm shattered, boneless, and fell to his side.
As Thralog was shrieked and thrashed, Krul coldly reloaded his gun. "Do you know what the final tally was?" His was voice low, calm. Too calm. "Five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two. Five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two. Dead. . .I mean, the scale of it." He shook his head and loosed single bullet. It fell to the ground. Clink. Suddenly, Garrus realized it wasn't Krul's usual shotgun. In fact, he'd never seen anything like it. Limited, corporeal ammunition. Wood handle.
"You know what they did? After sending fighter jets and bombs against a village built out of stone and homemade yabni?" Clink. "They took to the jungles." Clink. "They butchered us down to the last babe. And by the last babe, I mean the last… You fuckin' remember that family? Fuck what was their name? Right the Pron'mochars." He shook momentarily. From tip to toe, a deep, agonizing tremble. Yet it was gone so swiftly, Garrus almost wondered if his eyes had played tricks on him. "How old was their kid? Nineteen months. Right…. You know what The Hegemony did? They slit his throat and hung him in the square. The al'awghads." Clink. "They were planning on hanging me next to him." Clink. "Really rape the fuck outta whatever hope the townspeople had left." Clink. "But then I found out. I found out it was you." His voice cracked. "Of all … of all people. Well. Couldn't let what's left of The Resistance, two-legged mongrel of a beast that it is now, take on the responsibility. No. I'd have to put you down myself. Do it right." Clink. "One. Last. Mission."
Thralog kicked, fell to the floor, and wriggled out of his gag. He shrieked as he toppled to the ground. "SEPARATIST. HE'S A SEPARATIST."
"Fuck off." Krul kicked the squirming form in the head.
"Batarian Separatists are an enemy of The Hierarchy. You're TURIAN. Surely you can't ignore this. It's… It's… treason!" Blood poured from his mouth.
It was subtle, but it was there. All those years of mandatory boot-camp weren't hard-wired into them for nothing. Mierin flinched towards his holster.
"You're still going to die today Thralog." Garrus bit out evenly, stepping in front of Mierin. "I don't care who he is. I owe him a debt. Plus, you've been up to some very nasty things. Tsk Tsk. Slaves. Red-sand. Think I'll let him take the trash out."
A moment. A fraction of a second. By the time he spotted the gun, it was halfway out of Thralog's boot. Garrus leaped and slammed into his arm. It fired aimlessly a few times. At least he hoped it was aimless. "Everyone good?"
What began as a murmur of assent, quickly turned sharp. "Krul's hit." Ripper scarcely had the words out before Krul began bellowing "I'M FINE." Garrus turned. Grundan's knee and shoulder had been blown out. Pistol. Medium caliber. Urgent but not critical. Vital signs stable. However, the batarian was struggling hopelessly to regain his footing. After slipping in a pool of red, he relented. "F-f-f-fine. F-f-finish him."
Garrus grabbed a sack of red sand-laced poison and peeled open each of Thralog's quivering eyelids. Meticulously, he poured it in, watching the irises expand until there was nothing but inky black.
He tossed the bag aside and stepped backwards, into Krul's grasping hands "I..I.. need to watch. Please. I need to watch until it's over." The body was seizing. And despite wanting nothing more than to turn and be free of the wretched sight, Garrus helped Krul close the distance before returning to his men.
A hushed silence fell over the entire casino. Even the hostages dared not utter a sound. Everything that had come to light had set Garrus's head spinning. Given what Thralog was responsible for, he didn't begrudge Krul needing that monster dead. But a part of him was shocked by his own actions. He butchered a man at the behest of a sworn enemy to The Hierarchy. Hell, before leaving the turian military, he'd fought batarian separatists. Now he was helping one?
When the body ceased moving and he heard the distinct rattle of death escape, Garrus spoke up. "Alright Krul, if that's even your real name. We need to get you to the doc. And… then we need to talk."
Grundan was hunched over the body. His voice was soft, almost tender. It was a sound he'd never thought to hear from the batarian. "Thank you, my friend." He stood, wobbled, and steadied himself. "I'm sorry I lied to you. It was for your protection as much as mine. But...most of all I'm just sorry…. So sorry." Standing upright, both arms stretched towards some unseeen horizon, Krul fell backwards into the bag of powder. A red-mushroom cloud erupted around him.
The next few moments were a blur. Half of him moved forward – the instinct to save a friend was undeniable. Yet, for a split second, the other half halted him in his steps – this was a sworn enemy of his people. Aware that Mierin caught his momentary hesitation, Garrus pulled Krul from the powder. "Toss the hostages in the back room, seal the door, and set off an EMP. Make sure they can't get any coms out." Grundan's vitals were erratic, dangerous. The same inky-black was slowly overtaking his eyes. He threw the batarian over his shoulder like a sack and they raced for The Gozu District.
