So I might be just a little bit late on the upload this time around…
It is not my fault! Blame Warframe, the fucking game won't allow me to acquire my Atlas Prime nor my Dethcube Prime without a tussle it seems! Unfortunately when I hyper-focus on something I have a bad habit of committing to that goal regardless of how pointless it may be.
But never mind that shit, you're here to read some more literary sadism. The time has come, the pieces are in place and now we get to play with them.
This is truly The Revitalised Arc!
Have fun, lads and ladettes.
( - 0 - )
(John Shepard – Unknown Station – Unknown Space)
There weren't many things in the galaxy that could really break John Shepard.
Not to say that it didn't try. Throwing awful concept after concept before the man and only managing to notably damage him instead of outright destroying him, he was a hard and sturdy shell of cool focus and determination rivalled only by Jane Shepard. The man was known to be a one man army (a highlight of his short career in his humble opinion) and was even to be believed to be Humanities best choice for their first ever Spectre…
He had to be tough to accomplish even half of the things he had done, and it made the world aware of that one fact: John Shepard didn't 'break'.
His one functioning eye zeroed in on the blackened hunk of flesh from behind the window, for a second he had mistaken it for a piece of rotting meat from an animal before he saw the doctors surrounding the mass with committed gazes that reminded him of the expression he'd find on those of nurses and physicians that had a great task baring down upon them. Small tells on their faces: The soft gritting of teeth, furrowed brows; tightened jaws reminiscent of solders enduring a troubling mission…
His breath hitched, his hand shook as he realised just what he was looking at.
That mass of flesh… Those remains… That undeniable corpse. That was Jane Shepard.
That was his sister.
Cerberus hadn't been lying to him...
It was almost as if strings holding him up had been cut in a sudden manner as his legs just gave out from under him, unable to hold the weight of his being as his collapsed painfully onto his weakened knees, crying out as the pain registered but dulled out under the influence of an emotion so immense and overwhelming John even begin to comprehend, let alone describe.
Suddenly, he wondered if the cry was from his knees screaming in pain or from the agony taking place behind the window he continued to stare through, his uncomfortably dry eyes refusing to remove their focus from the cause of all his suffering.
"I can't..." John swallowed harshly, his face twisted in sorrow. "I can't even recognise her..."
From behind him, Jacob watched as the man who'd helped beat down Saren just… broke. He broke into a million little pieces and he just didn't seem to want to even attempt to bring himself back together again. The agent had felt a little unnerved looking at the remains of the first human spectre, knowing just how distort the body could become had even left him with the unrelenting chills ever since.
But seeing the brother silently lose it at the sight? Jacob was never great at comfort, he was trained to shoot things, not nurture them to health. The major certainly wouldn't allow his attempt either, he probably get punched for even trying to speak up right now.
'Miranda just had to leave me to handle this...' His mind fizzled with sympathy and discomfort, awkwardly looking between Shepard and the door Miranda had gone through… He really hoped she'd hurry up with the briefing, regardless of how unlikely that was.
A noise caught his attention, focussing back on the scene before him gave him the sight of John smashing his fist on the floor, somehow having managed to tear his eyes away from the horrid sight in front of him as the doctors poked and prodded the corpse with needles and other appliances that Jacob couldn't describe.
"Fuck, Little si-… Jane! I'm sorry." John quietly sobbed, face hidden from view as he seemingly curled in on himself, a sight that must have looked as painful as it felt. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this…"
This was too much, far; far too much. He almost felt thankful for the cold and slightly dark hallways of the Cerberus Station, the only bright light came from the operating room and due to the angle all that it could touch of him was his back, he didn't want the people seeing him in this state, though he was aware of the fruitless nature of that endeavour, the very least he could do was keep his face hidden.
The way his chest continued to tighten only served to agitate him, he just wanted it to stop, to lessen; to let him breathe for a few seconds so he could control his body again. John had no clue what being decided that this had to happen but he hoped that they suffered a fate worse than death, anything horrible and unforgivable would suddenly be fine and dandy if it all happened to that manifestation. Murder, rape; eternal slavery, torture… everything. It was what it fucking deserved.
God he hoped that the very least these monsters could do was point him in the direction of the bigger and more monstrous monsters.
A soft hissing and whirring alerted the two shaken men to the presence of Miranda sauntering through the door, a relaxed coolness following her as she looked down at Shepard with a raised eyebrow and a small upward twinge of her upper lip. Jacob – having known the woman for a long time – could feel the detached disappointment seeping through the thin veneer of aloofness she was hiding behind.
A part of him was further put off by the sight. The Major had survived things they could barely begin to comprehend as operatives and had experienced such awful thing in the short span of a few months. Surely Miranda could understand that every man had a breaking point, right? Of course, he understood where the dissatisfaction was coming from, but he desire for perfection couldn't be that important to her that she'd hold trauma of this magnitude against Shepard.
But before he could voice any form of thought, Miranda had already began speaking.
"The Illusive Man will see you now, Major."
Immediately, the sorry sight before him had stilled, probably in realisation of what he was doing in front of his sworn enemy. The sobbing stopped, the shaking became minimal and the crumpled heap of flesh on the floor slowly brought itself back up to a somewhat upright position. The sight brought an uncomfortable tingle through Jacob's body, like the feeling he'd get when watching victims from bombings shut down and passively watch the world spin on without them recognising it.
John Shepard didn't even bother to hide his reddened eyes from them as he staggered back to face Miranda. The expression on his mangled face looked so wooden that anyone would be forgiven if they had attributed the look to one only found on the vacant, lifeless mimicries found on mannequins.
The man didn't even speak a word out loud, just merely nodded his head in acknowledgement and let the woman lead the way.
"Jacob, you're dismissed." Miranda ordered, halting the man's steps as he merely nodded and turned to walk the other way.
As he turned the corner, he turned his back and caught a glimpse of Shepard disappearing behind the door…
"I hope you know what you're playing with, Miranda..." He sighed to himself, there wasn't anything he could really do but the thought of recruiting someone as obviously unstable and against their cause was never going to help him come to a comfortable resolution with the plan.
'The only way we're going to keep him here is if we can deliver on our promise.' The memory of the Captains remains only served to make him flinch. 'But can we even do that?'
His thoughts were whirling around in his head as he quietly made his way towards his personal quarters. Once more thankful for the position as head of security as he sat down on the side of his bed and tried to clear his head of the days events.
The rest of the mission wasn't his area of speciality anyway.
( - 0 - )
(Garrus Vakarian – Omega – Omega Nebula)
The alcohol here was shit.
That was his first declaration of fact.
The taste was muted at best and it washed down like broken glass being forced down his throat, the buzz was oo strong for him and the aftertaste didn't even have that pleasant thrum to it that most beverages had.
The turian slammed his empty glass down, a snarl emitting from him as his mandibles clicked together angrily. The loud thumping beat of Afterlife's shitty club music assaulted his ears and the harsh red lights made his eyes squint in protest.
'Who in their right mind would genuinely like it here?' His narrowed eyes blearily looked around the place as his brows deepened as if in realisation of where he was. 'Oh right, the criminally insane. My bad.'
From where he sat he could see at least three high-profile criminals. Telor Le'Nora, an infamous slaver from Thessia of all places; wanted in three separate systems for the kidnapping of several children and a few wealthy developers from Bekenstein. Two government officials from Illium and even a Matriarch from her own home planet.
Without a doubt, she was trash that needed cleaning up. If only he had his sniper with him right now..
The other two were merely high class drug dealers, both specialising in smuggling red sand through difficult border control on several planets. More worthless scum that needed putting down.
How many lives had they all collectively been responsible for ending? Lives that could have been saved if others would just grown some damn backbone and fight back? Or at least not let the mercenary gangs push them around? Realistically, there were more of them than there were of the Blue Suns or Blood Pack. The groups would never work together in a million years, all it would take is one huge push and a decisive blow to beat them!
All they needed was to have the chance, surely they'd take it!
He knew he would have, they all would have.
But that chance never came…
Not for them.
But they were the ones that needed it.
The mystery attackers were never found. The only evidence they had of the attack was the wreckage left behind, the wreckage of both ship and crewmen.
And the wreckage truly was a sight to see.
The Normandy SR-1, a state of the art frigate-class ship that symbolised not only the progress of Human-Turian relations, but also the marvels they could create when working together. The ship that rode the its crew to battle against Saren and the Reapers on its first true mission outside of tests. All that was left of that beautiful ship was little more than a smouldering heap of scrap and the flames that consumed it.
And the crew…
Jane, Pressly; the others on the lower decks.
John.
"Spirits..." Garrus' head sunk into the hard metal of the table, unable to muster the strength to lift back up to keep tabs on the fugitive a couple metres away from him. "How could this have happened."
It all had happened too fast to recount properly. One moment he'd been working on that mess of a machine down in the cargo hold. The Mako always suffered damages to its calipers in particularly bumpy rides, he had always joked that John's driving would one day see to the vehicle growing a kind just so it could lose it the second he began to drive it.
Then he was staring at John's injuries on the Citadel, barely processing that Jane had been killed in the one-sided skirmish.
And here he was, slumping at an awful bar in the most criminal-infested part of space after having left council space to set out on his own. Away from John, away from his past ties.
No matter how awful he felt for abandoning his best friend, Garrus just couldn't find it within him to watch as John wasted away. He wanted to find the bastards that took so much away from them and turn them into a fine paste on the ground, he couldn't do that under the sheer amount of regulations and red tape the council would surely put in his way.
Plus, he knew that even if he was gone, Tali surely wouldn't leave his side. The thought almost brought a dark chuckle out from him. John may have lost a lot, but it would probably take more than what happened to shake that bouncing Quarian off of him.
Even if it was probably killing her inside to sit there and lose him bit by bit…
Eventually, he managed to gather the motivation to lift his head from the table, only for all his anger and hatred to seize up as he noticed that Telor had disappeared from sight, his eyes darted around the club, desperately trying to find his target before coming to the realisation that she wasn't there.
"Shit!" He cursed, snapping up to his feet in less than a second before charging for the exit. There was no telling which one she had used, being at such an odd position in the club either one could have been used. Though he could deuce that it was unlikely that she was heading for the upper floor.
No one wanted to be near Aria T'Loak after all.
"Get back here!" He quietly growled to himself as he turned a corner to find the target in question swaggering towards what looked to be a small ship, a little smaller than the Normandy…
And dozens of armed crooks, armed Blood Pack crooks…
His feet slowed to a plod as he understood just how hopeless this situation was. He had no chance as things stood and he had been so negligent and stuck in his own grief that he hadn't even brought his pistol.
'Damn it! DAMN IT!' He sank to his knees and watched on as the slavers ship zipped off into the blackness of space, sinking to his knees as he watched it blink out of his vision. "Damn you!"
Garrus had never felt such rage in his heart before, not aimed towards himself at least. But he had just let some scumbag off scot-free because of his own lack of awareness.
Was he always this slow to the uptake? That wouldn't do. Letting one criminal off was unacceptable, this couldn't happen again. No more crimes committed, no more lives lost.
His fists clenched, determination boiling his blood.
If there was one thing about Omega, it was that every criminal ends up here more than once. It was a safe-haven for the worst of the worst.
But now he was here, and their days were numbered.
He always hated injustice, and this place was sickeningly rife with it. But he had a sniper rifle and a lot of hatred he need to let out, the very least he could do was find a productively and helpful outlet.
Telor La'Nora could wait, she'd be back and the slaves she would be transporting will be free. But right now, he needed to find some target practice.
Omega needed to be cleansed of the filth that had been allowed to gather and if Garrus had to be the guy to do it then that was what he'd do.
He couldn't save John or Jane from their fates, but he certainly could stop others from going through the same thing.
"Just you wait, you bastards." Garrus got himself off the ground and turned back towards the shitty apartment he'd rented for the time being. "None of you are safe anymore."
( - 0 - )
(John Shepard – Unknown Station – Unknown Space)
"Here you are," Miranda said as she input the pass-code on the console next to the door at the end of the hallway. "The Illusive Man will speak to you when you enter. Don't forget to step onto the central plinth and stay there for the duration of the call."
"What the hell for?"
The Operative rolled her eyes in annoyance. "It is a new method of communicating from vast distances away without feedback errors and general interruption. That's all you need to know, now get in there. He's waiting for you."
A sneer made its way onto his face from the dismissal. "Whatever, just let me in then. I want to get this over with as soon as possible."
"On that, we can agree." Gods he wanted to smack that infuriating expression from her bitchy face. If it wasn't for the pistol by her side he would have.
Though before he could respond back, the door opened to a dark room with what Miranda had accurately described as a circular plinth that took up the centre of the room by a large margin. Though beyond that he couldn't see anything else within, it was simply too dark.
But he knew for sure that he couldn't see another human inside…
Whirling around, he gave the woman a nasty look as he pointed into the dark room with a shaking hand.
"I thought the Illusive Man wanted to speak to me, then where the fuck is he?"
"Your paranoia isn't befitting of your rank, calm down, 'Major.'" Her mocking tone almost set him off again and if he wasn't so painfully fatigued he probably would have. But before he could even consider doing so the woman answered his question.
"As I said this is new technology we are utilising here. Secondly, if you really believe that you are so important that The Illusive Man was going to drop everything he is doing to meet you in person then your arrogance is certainly much higher and more insufferable than we anticipated."
John growled at her. "You're lucky you have that fucking pistol."
"Don't waste your time, major. I am more than capable of taking care of myself with or without my side-arm, especially with the sorry state your in."
The amount of rage he was able to keep from expressing almost left John feeling impressed with himself, though the situation called for his emotional restraint or he'd have likely killed the polished cow with her own hair. Growling softly he found the strength within himself to not respond to her jab with anything more than a hateful stare and a swift swivel away seconds later.
"Just get the fuck out of here then, let me and your better talk."
He could only wish that he had eyes in the back of his skull to see the scowl that was most certainly there. Though he had his wish granted as the snappish clack of heels was heard before the door behind him closed, briefly leaving him cloaked in complete darkness.
A couple seconds went by and John had almost begun to believe that he was going to just be left here to rot and go mad before his attention was caught by the sudden orange glow just a couple feet from him. A bright circle lit up in what He assumed was the centre of the room itself.
'I guess I have no other choice...' A wheezy sigh left his lips as John took the few heavy steps into the middle of the circle. He felt a little exposed, vulnerable; more so than he had before.
Then without warning, a softer orange holograph began to rise from the ground only stopping once it hit the ceiling… Or what looked to be the ceiling. John cursed his shitty sight once more before turning his attention back to flickering mass forming before him.
Though confused at first, the mass only continued to form itself more and more until the shape being made was obvious to anyone with brain in their skulls. And John's eyes widened slightly as he realised what it was he was looking at. The form was of a human silhouette, clearly male; sitting in what seemed to be a simple chair as the orange holograph struggled to render in what looked to be wisps of smoke either escaping the cigar in the hand or was billowing gently from the man's mouth.
"Major. Shepard… It's good to finally meet you."
The silhouette flickered twice more before revealing the face John had only dreamed of shooting for years.
"Illusive Man..."
( - 0 - )
This almost took a month, I curse my luck. Never allow me to play blackjack, Warframe has shown me that games of chance really aren't going to mix well with me.
But hopefully we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Hope to see you in less than a month this time.
-Viperhat