Disclaimer: I don't own Worm, it belongs to Widbow. It is written with no commercial aim in mind. It is not for sale or rent.

Prologue: I'm a Krogan Dragon now?

=KroganDragon=

Part 1

=KroganDragon=

7 April 2011

Brockton Bay

I wasn't a fan of falling down. Not even when I was sleeping. The sensation of your stomach dropping under you, brief vertigo, and perhaps a dream of falling over a cliff's edge towards a sudden end… Those weren't fun things to experience. This time around, the dream was even more unsettling. There was something… otherworldly staring at me. I could hear it speak in my head, I could see myself answering, making a choice. Then the ground dropped under my feet and I got a brief glimpse of a purple vortex.

"Fuuu…" I began cursing in a deep voice that was mine, yet not.

I slammed into cold bracing water and sunk like a rock. I flailed my arms and legs, slashing with clawed fingers and wiggling my stubby… tail? My curse drowned in a shower of ice-cold, oily, and salty water that flooded my lungs, and I choked.

The shock was enough to convince me that whatever the fuck was happening I wasn't dreaming any longer. Despite my best panicking efforts, I kept sinking. I needed to breathe, yet there was only freezing dark water…

The world dimmed, even as I strained my muscles to try and claw my way to the surface. It didn't help, I kept sinking and moments later I felt my feet touch the slimy bottom of whatever this hellish place was.

It was cold and dark. Wet. Of course, it was damn wet... This place was going to be my grave! I had to get away! I had to get to the surface! The world dimmed, even as rage exploded in my hearts, flooding me with hormones for one last-ditch, desperate attempt to get to the surface and air.

I was too heavy. I jumped futilely. My arms and legs flailed away and for a moment I felt desperate, mindless hope when my feet got out of the sludge, only for it to die in despair a moment later. Despite all my efforts, I fell back onto the bottom of whatever this was. The world dimmed even as I struggled to getaway.

Stars exploded within my mind. Two immense crystalline forms twisted around each other like a twinned helix shedding a shower of sparkling crystals.

Destination… Priority link located...

Trajectory… Target locked on...

Agreement… Uplink established…

My Blood Rage burned hotter than ever. My scales boiled, and reformed. My tough hide parted, and something exploded from my back. My arms and legs elongated, I could distantly feel bones fragmenting and healing much faster than they had any right to.

I still needed to breathe. That desperate need drove me, and I acted on instinct. The dark water churned around me, my wings beat once, then twice, and tore my way through the oppressive, stinking liquid until my muzzle broke free, and I desperately gasped for breath. There was still water in my lungs, nose, and down my long sinuous neck.

I flailed again, coughing and gasping. And just like that, I lost what little instinctive control I had on my odd shape and fell back into the sea.

Panic hit me like a sledgehammer, ensuring that I couldn't think properly. I needed to get away, I had to get to safety!

Something shifted in my mind, pinging through my awareness. There was a mental switch practically begging to be pressed and I hit it with all the desperation of a drowning man.

My scales itched, my ears hurt from an irritating buzzing sound, and then a sharp crack deafened me. Blinding light robbed me from my sight.

I was somewhere else. I was tired, spluttering and coughing, gasping for sweet, sweet air. Water sloshed off my scales to fall all around me. A siren wailed and people screamed. Yet, all I could do or think about was getting as much air in my water-clogged lungs as I could.

I never noticed someone approaching and poking my paw with something sharp.

=KroganDragon=

That was a particularly fucked up nightmare I had, and I suffered a few nasty ones since my mother died a few weeks ago. As if that wasn't bad enough, my scales itched something fierce and my brain hurt in such a way that I felt like clawing off my head plate…

Wait a minute, that was all wrong…

I cracked my eyes open and groaned. The sound was a deep bass, and come from within a barrel-like chest that was both just right, yet much larger than it had any right to be. I rubbed my forehead and noticed two very odd things. First, my arm had only three, very large and clawed fingers. Second, I could barely see said had when I touched my head plate. My eyes were odd too. They were too far apart and I was damn sure that I should be seeing so well to the sides of my head. At the same time, I knew that it was perfectly normal for my eyes to work that way…

"What the hell!?" I exclaimed aloud in a deep rumbling voice that most certainly wasn't my own. Yet it was painfully familiar, and I knew it was the voice that had been coming from my throat for what felt like forever.

I blinked owlishly and looked around. I was in a white metal room, laying upon a large simple bed. The only notable things in the otherwise empty room were cameras with blinking green lights placed in each of the four corners of the ceiling.

"I must be dreaming still…" I shook my head.

My gaze fell upon my bulky form. It was a familiar one, and not just because was mine, yet not. I've played enough Mass Effect to recognize a Krogan even in my sleep after all. The three-fingered arms and legs, the head-plate… the huge teeth I could feel with my very large tongue… The hump behind my head… I raised a hand and gently dragged my clawed fingers over the tough scaly skin there. Yeah, there was a typical Krogan hump over there.

This was already a better dream than that fucked up nightmare of drowning!

"You're awake!" An excited human voice chirped from the ceiling and I could hear one of the cameras' servos quietly whirl as it turned to focus on me.

"That's a really odd and lucid dream I'm having," I muttered.

Being a Krogan, did I have biotics too, I wondered?

Something shifted in my head and I could feel something pulsing, happily, almost begging to be used. I had to just think about what I wanted to happen and a pitch-black singularity formed in my hand, yet it didn't suck anything, not even the air.

"Please, do not use your powers for the time being. It makes the PRT and Protectorate very nervous given the circumstances." The voice implored.

I dismissed the decidedly not-biotic effect with thought and looked at the camera.

I've been reading too much Worm lately in an attempt to get my head out of the real world. It explained why I was dreaming about it right? Because of PRT and the Protectorate? Yeah.

Still, this was an incredibly realistic dream… Too realistic. I sniffed, smelling all kinds of disinfectants, a hint of sweat, my familiar Krogan scent, and that of at least two unfamiliar people. I frowned at that. I didn't recall smelling things while dreaming before.

"I'm pretty sure you're not dreaming right now. Hi! I'm Dragon." The voice introduced itself.

I chuckled at that. It made sense. Dragon was one of my favorite characters in Worm and if this wasn't a nightmare, then it made sense that I might dream about her.

Right?

"A really odd dream indeed," I told myself. A bit too real for comfort and I didn't want to think about what that might imply.

I'm not sure why I did it. My right arm moved and two of my talons strongly pinched the hide of my left arm, almost piercing the tough skin. It hurt less than it should have, yet it hurt. And I didn't get awake to find myself in my bed, back at my parent's house.

Without thinking, I formed a fist and slammed it into the wall the bed was attached to. A dull clang echoed. The metal wall dented, even though I didn't put anything like my full strength behind the punch. And at the same time, I could feel something pop around me.

"I'll appreciate it if you do not damage the detention cell. People tend to frown at that." The voice, no Dragon, added in a warier tone.

At the same time, I could sense some kind of a barrier reform around me, before vanishing from my awareness.

"I'm very far away from home, aren't I?" I grumbled to myself.

"That might very well be the case, sir. Would you do us the courtesy of introducing yourself?"

"A name, huh?" I chuckled. After a few moments of thinking about my new form, my eyes widened when a flood of memories flowed through my mind, making my head throb. "You can call me, Wrex, Miss Dragon. Urdnot Wrex." The name felt right. My clawed fingers went to my face and gently traced the scar from an armored gauntlet marring my head plate.

It was one thing to know Wrex's story from the games, it was another seeing some of his adventures with Shepard. It was something entirely different having those memories stuck into your head, feeling as if they were your own.

This was feeling less and less like a dream with every passing moment. What the hell happened to me?!

"We would like to know that very much as well." Dragon pipped in.

Damn, did I say that aloud?!

=KroganDragon=

Part 2

=KroganDragon=

7 April 2011

The Rig

Protectorate HQ

Brockton Bay

"Yes, you did." Dragon answered in a voice ringing with a hint of amusement.

"The last thing I recall before falling in the water and nearly drowning was being a part of the Alliance counter-attack on the Reaper positions in London." The words fell off my lips before I could even think about them. "Considering that I'm alive, and we're having an amiable conversation, I guess we won? Did Shepard make it? How many of my Krogan survived the assault?"

Even as I asked those questions, I felt I wouldn't be getting any answers. In fact, those questions were going to complicate my situation even further, I was certain of that much at least.

"The last time I checked, there has been no recent assault on London by anyone." Dragon predictably responded.

"Where am I?" I demanded harshly. Trying to bite my lips and keep silent before digging myself even larger a hole didn't work.

"Brockton Bay, Unites States of America. Earth Bet." Dragon patiently explained.

"I'm unfamiliar with a human colony called Earth Bet…" I trailed off, while viciously cursing in my mind. What the hell was happening?!

Revealing knowledge of the future you can't plausibly explain can lead to gaining the attention you aren't ready for, Operative. Updating mission parameters…

Blood red words etched themselves in my mind. The taste of hot fresh blood was familiar and exhilarating, a confirmation of a kill, of triumph and victory. I could smell the hot liquid burning within my mind.

Active Mission Parameters:

Bring Order and Stability to Earth Bet

Neutralize active S-Class Threats

Neutralize Planetary Siege Units/Conflict Engines Code Named Endbringers

Neutralize Entity Code Name Zion

Victory is Life, Operative. Victory is Freedom.

I blinked off the molten blood boiling within my mind.

"… colonies." Dragon said in a wary voice.

"Say that again, Miss Dragon. Please?" I spoke softly, wondering WTF mess I found myself into.

"Currently Earth has no colonies in the Sol system, much lest extra-solar ones."

I wanted to hear a different answer. Fuck my luck.

"What year is it?" I asked.

"What year do you expect it to be, Mr. Urdnot?" Dragon shot back.

"It's Wrex. Urdnot's my Clan name and I've got the feeling that it holds no meaning here. It was 2186 the last time I checked. Late summer or what passed for it during a nuclear winter in London."

"It's April the eight, 2011, Mr. Wrex. I believe you're very far from home. Anything you tell us about the events just before your arrival might help us find a way back for you." Dragon gently explained.

"If we didn't win the battle and the war…" I growled, "There would be nowhere to go back to. The last thing I remember…" I closed my eyes and shook in rage while my mouth kept speaking, explaining about the culmination of the Reaper War, the desperate assault on Earth, and our attempt to reach the Citadel hanging above London. "I'm pretty sure I just got to the gravity lift connecting the Citadel win the ground when a Reaper capital ship opened fire on us…" I trailed off.

I could remember that perfectly – the last, desperate sprint towards the lift, with Grunt to my right and Shepard actually getting a lead, the magnificent bastard! The smell of battle, death, and madness, the familiar sensation of a Mass Effect field picking me up.

"I heard a Reaper roar at us in anger. It shot at us with its main cannon, then I was falling in the water and couldn't get to the surface…" Finally, my jaws slapped close with an audible click. "What was that old human saying? I'm not in Kansas any longer?"

"Close enough. The United States Government, Protectorate Response Team, the Protectorate, and the Guild would like to know more about those Reapers who invaded Earth. The threat they represent, their military goals…" Dragon asked politely.

"And I would like to know where and when I am." I requested. "Brockton Bay. 2011. The United States. I lack context." I paused. "My status." Once again, my mouth opened and spoke of its own volition.

"An exchange of information would be more than acceptable. Question for a question?" Dragon suggested. "As for your state, we do have protocols about settling extra-dimensional visitors. The same goes for time-displaced people, even though the latter hasn't been implemented yet."

"As long as it doesn't include vivisection or imprisonment?"

"Nothing like that. However, medical examination and power testing will be required…"

We talked for most of the night, exchanging question for question. I spoke of recent galactic history and what I could recall about the human System's Alliance, about the bastard Turians and the treacherous Salarians. She asked about everyone else of note too. However, most questions Dragon and her superiors asked were centered around the Reaper invasion. They didn't particularly like the answers.

In turn, I got a refresher course about Earth Bet, which was frankly very useful. I could never finish reading Worm, or if I did, I didn't remember doing so. Almost all I recalled came from fan stories and thus was under question now that I found myself thrown into that world.

Knowing where I was, what was supposed to happen, not to mention, my mission, it should have turned me into a gibbering terrified wreck. Instead, the idea of such challenging opponents got my blood pumping. Until the Reapers, there weren't many challenges I could fight left.

That very thought, the blurring between my human self and Wrex's memories, should have been incredibly upsetting as well. Yet, it was anything but. Without Wrex's Krogan body, without his skills and experience, without whatever powers I, we, had gained? I would likely stand little chance of surviving the next few years even if I didn't go out of my way to find trouble.

And I had the nagging suspicion that laying low and hoping for the best wouldn't be an option.

I shook my head and focused back on the task at hand. In exchange for my tales, I got the basics of Earth Bet and how it diverged from the Earths I knew explained to me. Scion's appearance heralding an age of powers, heroes, and villains. The Endbringers wrecking infrastructure and condemning cities, often along with the citizenry, like clockwork.

The game of cops and robbers the locals played.

My status as a so-called Case 66, a refugee from a different dimension. Category, B2, meaning that I was from the future, just not this Earth's future.

To be frank, it was an enthralling tale Dragon spun. Thanks to Wrex's memories and experiences, I could look at what she told me in a different light than before. The picture she painted was painfully familiar. It was no so different than what had been happening on Tuchanka since the Rebellion. It was just that, civilization here hasn't completely collapsed yet, though it was on the way there. The correlation of forces arrayed against the local governments, military, law enforcement, and heroes was bad and growing worse by the day. And that was before taking into account certain factors I wasn't supposed to know about.

I smiled happily.

"You know, Miss Dragon, before hooking up with Shepard's crew, becoming leader of Clan Urdnot and uniting Tuchanka, I used to be an independent contractor for centuries." The large simple bed groaned under my bulk as I shifted forward and looked straight at the camera across the room. "Do the local governments hire independent contractors to solve their criminal issues in this day and age? If not, are there any outstanding bounties in the vicinity of this Brockton Bay I find myself in?"

"It's often frowned upon, though it happens occasionally." Dragon allowed after a long pause. "A number of the local villains do have outstanding arrest warrants and bounties."

"I see," I chuckled.

=KroganDragon=

PRT HQ
Brockton Bay

From half across the city, Director Piggot watched the interview conducted by Dragon. Due to various international agreements, she was one of the more or less neutral parties everyone agreed could safely make the first contact with visitors like their reptilian guest.

"My lie detector is still in the prototype stage. It is meant for humans." Armsmaster spoke in a clipped tone when the Director glanced at his image displayed on one of the monitors in the conference room. He was at the Rig, along with half of the Protectorate under her authority. "The results I'm getting are inconclusive."

"We can't see him." A concealed figure muttered. She was a powerful Thinker working for Watch Dog, one of the Thinker divisions under the aegis of the Protectorate. "I mean, he is right there, however, our powers simply slide off from him." The Thinker twitched.

"Thank you for your assistance, Oracle." Chief-Director Costa-Brown nodded at the concealed Parahuman.

"Director, always a pleasure." The Thinker muttered and cut the connection from her side.

"Well, we'll need a confirmation. Medical scans, perhaps a visit by Panacea if she agrees and we deem it safe enough?" Director Armstrong spoke with barely restrained glee. "However, if all our guests said is true…"

"Then aliens certainly exist in at least one parallel dimension. They might exist in ours too. A lot of them, too." Costa-Brown finished his thought, voicing everyone's primary concern.

"If that is the case, these Reapers might exist too. If the alien is telling us the truth." That came from Tagg, who was scowling at the camera.

"We have no reason to believe he is lying." Armstrong countered. "However, we have no reason to take his word as a gospel either." He added.

"Actions often speak louder than words. I suggest we keep him under observation and in our good graces until and unless he gives us a reason to change our approach." Costa-Brown suggested.

"What about the fact that he has been a mercenary for centuries?" Tagg all but sneered a that.

Those were two very concerning points.

Mercenaries didn't have a particularly good reputation on Earth Bet, neither before Scion nor after. The fact that Urdnot Wrex admitted that his species could live for over a thousand years, was another. If true, it told volumes for how dangerous their guest might be, especially if he had spent a significant chunk of that time as a gun for hire and was still alive.

As if that wasn't bad enough…

"He didn't mention anything about the changer power he displayed upon his arrival, or how he teleported on the Rig." Director Piggot pointed out.

"While Wrex Urdnot was uncommonly calm when he described how he got here," Director Armstrong began, "being nearly killed during combat, then finding yourself drowning is a textbook Trigger Event even for an experienced combatant."

"You theorize that he triggered after he arrived on Earth Bet?" Costa-Brown inquired.

"Yes. As far as what sent him here, an interaction between the Reaper that shot at him and that gravity lift he mentioned might have produced an exotic effect." Armstrong shrugged. "It's just a theory based on the incomplete information we have."

"Fine, I'll agree on the so-called power testing." Wrex grumbled from the largest screen in the room, gaining everyone's attention. "If you expedite the necessary paperwork about my registration, and status. I've never had much patience for these things, and over the past few years I had to deal with all too much of that damn pain in the quad!"

Dragon looked at the Chief Director, who quickly nodded.

"That is acceptable, Mr. Wrex." The Canadian Tinker promptly responded.

"What are my orders if we let him on the streets and he goes bounty hunting?" Piggot asked the Chief Director.

"That would depend on both his conduct and the results of his power-testing. If he indeed has a changer power similar to Lung's, combined with teleportation ability, containing him will be very difficult. In that case, we better not antagonize such a potential asset." Costa-Brown explained her reasoning. "That is before taking into account his origin and the complications that it brings."

The alien might very well be the last of his kind if that Alliance he spoke of lost their war. Or he could be a lost leader, part of a victorious galactic-scale alliance. Or anything in between depending on the politics on the other side, if there was another side left.

=KroganDragon=

Part 3

=KroganDragon=

8 April 2011

The Rig

Protectorate HQ

Brockton Bay

There were a few immediate benefits to playing nice with the locals, for now at least. First, I could get out of the tent-like hospital scrubs and into some fitting clothes quickly designed for a Krogan, courtesy to one of Armsmaster's fabricators. Second, as long as I wasn't an outright villain, given my status, I would be getting a few thousand dollars a month as a stipend.

Third, and that was the actual double-edged sword, came the power testing. On one hand, going through it would reveal what I could do to all kinds of questionable parties. On the other hand, I kind of needed to know what the hell I could do now, so I could begin to lay down at least a vague plan for the future. Beyond, you know, go out, bash heads, and get bounties, then profit!

The testing process itself was long, boring, though it had a few highlights. A few very useful highlights if I say so myself.

First, came the realization that now I had a built-in shield that could take one hit from practically everything the PRT dared throw at me. Then it would recharge in a couple of seconds. It could even stop a constant attack for a while, however, then it took even longer to recharge itself.

We figured that after one of the local heroes, a kid really used a modified stun pistol on me. My shield eventually failed under a sustained energy beam, which was amazing in itself – the fact that even a local kid-tinker could build something like that I mean. It was too bad that the tech couldn't be mass-produced and fielded…

When the beam hit me, the sensation was quite unpleasant, however, I failed to go down to the boy's chagrin. What little I could see of his expression was quite amusing. Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system!

The kid in colorful armor all but screaming 'shoot me' kept looking from me to his odd-shaped pistol. He was muttering to himself until his eyes brightened, and he ran away from the testing area.

"Jenkins, keep an eye on Kid Win and make sure he doesn't disassemble something important!" One of the scientists overseeing my testing shouted, and an armored trooper jogged after the boy.

I could also lift fourteen metric tons now, without biotics. That particular simple test, which involved a huge hydraulic press, by the way, put a wide grin on my face that refused to go away. Now I would be the best Krogan at head-butting people and bashing their heads in!

I think I should be disturbed by the influence Wrex's memories and physiology had on me. Instead, the thought of what I could do now kept me grinning throughout the rest of the dull testing process.

Now, strictly speaking, the most interesting part, and useful too, were my other powers. First, came the aptly called changer one. I watched a recording of honest to God dragon with my coloration, even scars on the muzzle, teleport to the Rig. Then Armsmaster jabbing it, me, with tranquilizers. My armored form shrunk until it left my naked body on the landing pad.

No matter what we tried, we couldn't get me to change. The best theory the local scientists had was that triggering the transformation would require a significant amount of distress. Needless to say, the limited number of options they tried, including another young hero, Gallant, blasting me with an emotion-manipulating burst, did nothing but irritate me.

On a side note, the blast of fear merely tingled making me aware that the kid tried something, however, I didn't feel anything else.

We wasted six hours trying to get me to change, and by the end of it, I was ready to start head-butting people.

The most interesting, and concerning part was the last bit of my powers we figured out. How the Geass, or whatever was stuck in my head knew about it, and how people would react to it, was a question I was very interested in knowing. I was obviously, very concerned about it too.

To put a long story short, we figured out that I had three "slots" for powers that I can change. I needed to think and desire a certain kind of power, and something roughly comparable to my need would materialize. Another six hours of testing confirmed that while those powers would be in the ballpark of what I wanted, they wouldn't necessarily be anywhere near ideal for solving the problem at hand, though a creative application or brute force one might make it get away.

Even without my prior knowledge, I knew that this was a big deal. A very big deal. That was a fact underlined by how polite and eager to please me everyone became while the last part of the testing was underway. This trend continued afterward, with Dragon being at hand through a teleconference to aid me in filling up all necessary paperwork. There was a very chipper PRT legal expert in attendance too, helping too and explaining the most relevant local laws.

Both of them kept dropping a hint that joining the Protectorate, or perhaps even the Guild might be for the best, citing all kinds of benefits.

Curiously enough, neither of them mentioned all the legal entanglements I would have to contend with if I officially signed with one of these groups…

Another thing I figured quickly was that both my implants – the biotic one, and the omni-tool, didn't survive my transformation into Dragon. I was still a biotic, however without an implant to help control my abilities, they were practically useless in combat. Something of the omni-tool might be salvageable, hopefully the data drive, however that was another concern for later – when I had the right powers slotted and useful infrastructure to play with it.

A couple of thinker powers that did what I needed them to, allowed me to perceive bits and pieces of various conversations on the Rig. They also all but told me that my displayed powers by themselves would ensure that the local law enforcement and the government would use velvet gloves when I was concerned.

It was to be expected. There were more and more whispers that the large alien was the second coming of Eidolon… Whoever or whatever put me here with a mission engraved into my brain at least gave me the tools that might allow me to complete it.

I kept reading through and signing forms, while occasionally thoughtfully humming to either Dragon's words or the lawyer's suggestion. In the meantime, my mind was primarily busy planning mayhem.

=KroganDragon=

Late that night, after finally filling up all the relevant paperwork, and a visit to the cafeteria to fill up my stomach, I found myself meeting the local PRT Director, Emily Piggot. As soon as I entered her office, it became painfully obvious that she wasn't a happy camper. I'm sure it had something to do with my refusal to become a Protectorate member, even if my associate status should have been a consolation prize.

We weren't alone. Armsmaster stood at parade rest near the Director's desk, and a stern, middle-aged woman observed me from a flat-screen mounted to the ceiling.

"Mr. Wrex, you present us, me in particular, with a problem." Piggot began, wasting no time with idle chat.

"I'm a Krogan. It's part of the package." I smiled at them, while my mind was busy thinking over the implications of this meeting. "Did you decide to hire my services? As I said, I've spent a long time working as an independent contractor. I can even give you a one-time discount for the first job." I did my best snake-oil salesman impression.

The Director glared at me like an angry varen.

"There is a very fragile balance present here in Brockton Bay. To be frank, we're outnumbered and outgunned. Any disruption of the status quo could lead to an outright gang war that can lay waste to the city." Piggot grudgingly admitted. "For all your displayed power, Mr. Wrex, you represent a destabilizing element. One that can plunge this city over the edge."

"You make this sound like Omega, or if I'm charitable, some of the worse off place on Illum." It was my turn to frown. "Why haven't you cleaned up the local gangsters and warlords? And who is she?" I jabbed a clawed finger at the screen.

"I'm Chief Director Costa-Brown, Mr. Urdnot Wrex. Our opinion is that you joining either the Protectorate or the Guild would be for the best, for everyone involved. We're ready to negotiate and offer you options that aren't available to most heroes in our ranks."

"Best for you, you mean. I've seen what you offer to your people. I won't be leashed, Chief Director." I smiled widely. "We both know we're only having this conversation because of my powers. At the end of the day, when you strip all that boring flowery language the Asari and you humans like so much, it's power that matters."

"As I said, we're ready to negotiate a significantly altered contract for you, if you're willing to join, Mr. Wrex." The Chief Director persisted.

"I might entertain the idea." I began slowly and saw the humans relax a bit. "After I've made a proper name for myself on your Earth Bet, and I'm in an even better negotiating position."

"Depending on what you do and how the chips fall, you might find yourself in a worse position to negotiate from, Mr. Wrex." The Chief Director forged on.

"I can live with that." I shrugged.

"Brockton Bay might now." Director Piggot countered.

"Then deal with the local gangs. Hell, I might do it for you if the reward is good enough."

"I've seen the results of your power testing, Wrex." Armsmaster bit off, obviously feeling uneasy. "You're undoubtedly powerful. You also have vast experience in warfare. What you lack is experience with your powers and in dealing with Parahumans, especially villains. If you go out alone, bounty-hunting, the results can be disastrous for everyone involved. We're offering training, backup, intelligence, and material support."

"And you're also going to tie up my hands."

"That won't necessarily be the case, as I've already said." The Chief Director added.

"I'll keep your offer under advisement. My understanding of the situation is that I'm not a prisoner here, am I?"

"No, Mr. Wrex, you're not. However, considering your appearance, it might be for the best that we present you officially in a press conference before you decide to go outside the Rig." Director Piggot tried.

"So you could keep pestering me to join or place even more contingencies in place to take me out if you feel like it?" I chuckled. "I think I want to stretch my legs and see this Brockton Bay of yours."

=KroganDragon=

Part 4

=KroganDragon=

10 April 2011

The Rig

Protectorate HQ

Brockton Bay

The locals did have one good reason to keep me around for one more night. I was yet to meet the famous local healer Panacea, who would be confirming that I wasn't a carrier of anything nasty enough that might depopulate the continent. Or at least the city.

It wasn't all bad. I got free food and bed out of the deal, along with a calm night to plan now that I was more or less aware of what I was capable of. It was shortly after midnight that I retired to a brute-rated large bed. It was almost comfortable, so I laid down, closed my eyes, and fished for thinker powers.

I spent hours playing with them and plotting. In the process, I utilized a combination of my imperfect knowledge of Earth Bet, a few precognition powers I tested, which were far from ideal. To round it all, several not particularly cooperative other thinker powers helped too. I had a rough idea of what would be happening over the next few days.

One Taylor Hebert would be going out like a cape for the first time either tonight or tomorrow evening, run into Lung and the Undersiders. Then things would go downhill for Hebert, and arguably everyone involved. My impression of the original timeline was that only a very unlikely string of events led to Taylor eventually playing a critical role in defeating Zion. It was even less probable that she would succeed a second time with butterflies all around. My very presence would be causing butterflies. At best, I might count on the major events of the next few days playing as they should have. Or perhaps not. If Coil assigned his pet thinker on my case, the Undersiders might not rile up Lung, and Taylor might have an uneventful first night out as a hero. I couldn't count on that of course. If I was wrong, she might get herself killed, and thus a potentially high-value asset, would be wasted.

One Dinah Alcott should have triggered already. Having access to someone friendly with her power would be very useful when planning for the future. Like when it gets time to kill off the Slaughterhouse 9. Especially Jack Slash, before he could hasten up the apocalypse.

I already knew my long-term mission objectives. I was pretty sure it was some kind of a Geass burned into my mind. It ensured I would be pursuing them. The damn thing was insidious. I wasn't even sure how much it was pushing me to neutralize my targets, and how much taking them out was common sense if you had the power to pull it off. Worst of all, I found I didn't care. I was stuck in this world for the foreseeable future, perhaps decades and centuries if I didn't get killed first. Stabilizing it was in my interest. Right?

I shifted to my side, finding the no good way to be really comfortable on my back courtesy to my tail. In the long run, I could do with a custom-made bed. A reinforced one at that, but that was for later.

Immediate concerns first – make sure Taylor Hebert survives the next few days. Keep Dinah Alcott safe and on friendly terms. Get bounties, so I could use them to get my hands on resources. Then utilize those resources in conjunction with tinker and thinker powers. Get a hold of some decent equipment.

Of course, first I would need to get myself some basic gear, whatever I could acquire until nightfall. Then I would be hunting a dragon. Speaking about Dragons, I would need to deal with the Dragonslayers sooner rather than later. Then I could have a frank discussion with Dragon about her nature, not to mention, gain salvage, a potential ally and remove a chaotic element from the board…

Speaking about chaos, Coil had to go. Sooner than later too.

=KroganDragon=

Early in the morning, after grabbing a shower and quick breakfast, I finally met the healer. The examination was slated to happen in a small conference room complete with a few fully kitted out PRT agents just in case. Panacea was a mousy little thing, reminding me a bit of Tali back when she was just starting her Pilgrimage. Next to her floated who had to be her sister – Glory Girl. Victoria Dallon was something else all right. She was perhaps the most beautiful blond woman I've seen in my life, yet all I could do was idly appreciate it from an aesthetic perspective.

That was a can of worms I wasn't ready to poke with a ten-foot pole. Besides, I was going to be quite busy over the coming days and weeks. How much being stuck in a Krogan body affected my libido and what I now found attractive was an issue for later. Much later.

"One of you must be Panacea," I stated with what I hoped was a disarming grin.

"Damn, you're large!" Glory Girl exclaimed and peered curiously at me. She could more or less look me in the eyes, only because she floated nonchalantly.

"Humans are small. Not my fault." I shrugged. I carefully didn't mention that anyone but Elcor and Thresher Maws was kind of small compared to a proper Krogan.

"Let's get this done with." Panacea grumbled.

"It's an alien, Ames! Show some excitement!" Glory Girl chided her sister. She bobbed up and down in the air, peering curiously at me.

"Alien my ass… Do I have permission to examine you?" Panacea gave me a long suffered look and offered her hand.

Someone was very grumpy today. Or just not a morning person.

"You have." I grabbed her outstretched hand and watched in amusement how her eyes widened. I could feel her power poke and prod at me gleefully as it examined me, thanks to a bio-tinker power of my own. I wasn't trusting enough to let someone like Panacea examine me without a counter-measure in place.

"What the hell are you?!" The little human bounced on her feet, however, she didn't let go. In fact, she did her best to clamp on my hand which was kind of cute. She was like a baby varen with a bone.

"Ames?" Glory Girl asked with a frown.

"I've never seen something like that before! There are so many redundant organs! And a second nervous system!"

"Glory Girl, is your sister drooling?" It was my turn to be wary.

Victoria Dallon looked more closely at her little sister and grimaced. "Ames, knock it off!"

"That's practically brute like toughness and regeneration! How old are you?!" Panacea demanded.

"Around fourteen hundred years give or take a few. I was born in the last years of the Rebellions and it was a mess."

"What, are you immortal or something?" Glory Girl demanded while Panacea began bouncing, only held in a place of the death grip she had on my arm.

"We Krogan don't die of old age." I grinned happily. If I played my cards right, I might get to live centuries or more. Or I might die along with everyone else in a few short, years, which was a sobering thought.

"That's not fair!" Glory Girl grumbled.

"We're awesome like that!" I pointed a clawed thumb at my chest and preened.

While we were chatting, and Panacea kept showing an unhealthy amount of interest in my innards, Director Piggot arrived accompanied by Armsmaster.

"Panacea, you've started already. Good. Is our guest safe to mingle with the general population?"

"Uh...Ah…" Amy Dallon shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her thought, while her power kept doing its best to ogle me.

I carefully pried her death grip off and her sister shook Panacea out of her daze.

"He's safe enough. For a brute with regeneration." Panacea eventually said though she kept staring at me with hungry eyes, doing a good impression of a vivisection happy Salarian. I was really glad that I had a bio-tinker power ready just in case.

"No alien disease that can wipe out the life on Earth?" The Director demanded.

"No! There's nothing like that! However, there are so many interesting things! His DNA is like nothing I've seen and his organs and nervous system…" Panacea started babbling. And drooling.

I took a step back. Just in case, you know?

The Director looked between me and the healer. She let a long suffered sigh.

"Mr. Wrex, you're free to go if you so desire. However, I can't stress this enough, becoming part of the Protectorate would be for the best. Going out, acting as a bounty hunter, can either get you killed, start a war this city might not survive, or both."

"I'll step lightly, Director." I wasn't really lying. Starting a war here and now wasn't my intention, even though it might come to it. There were things I had to do, places to be.

And it might be nice to get me a Krant. Perhaps Hebert might be amiable to be an effective independent hero?

=KroganDragon=

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