Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to my Warhammer/Mass Effect crossover.
Thank you all so much for the feedback that I received in the previous chapter. I greatly appreciate it, and your efforts to help me improve. In addition, I was able to find a beta-reader that helped me correct the mistakes in the previous chapter, as well as the ones that used to be present in this chapter. Once again, thank you very much.
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Disclaimer: I do not own the Mass Effect or Warhammer franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts, Games Workshop, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.
Unknown Location
Unknown Date
The first thing that Tyrellus knew when he woke up was that he was lying on his back. The other thing that he knew was that he wasn't dead. Finally, he could hear the last words that the Emperor said to him echoing through his mind still, like a gong that had been rung in his head.
Opening his eyes, he looked around to see that he was no longer in the Warp. In fact, he seemed to be inside of a small room of some sort, with the ceiling made out of metal, along with the walls and, presumably, the floor. Sitting upright, he looked around to see that he certainly was in a room. A door of unknown make was the only way out, with a green glowing hologram of some kind over the center of the door.
Where am I, he wondered to himself. He was about to get up when he remembered some of his wounds, courtesy of Warp magic, as well as the Tyranids. Looking down, he was amazed to see that his armor had been perfectly mended and repaired, as though they had been replaced and repaired at the Rath's Honor.
Getting onto his knees, he said, "Thank you, Emperor, for saving my life. Were it not for Your efforts, the Neverborn would have torn me apart like a pack of wolves a lone animal." With that done, he got up and looked around, while making sure he had his weaponry still.
From what he cold tell, he still had his Bolt Rifle, along with his Heavy Bolt Pistol. He also, somehow, had all of his ammunition restocked; while most mortals would've wondered how this could be done, Tyrellus didn't question it. It is likely that the Emperor himself refitted me, as is befitting for a warrior of His.
As he moved towards the door, he remembered what the Emperor had told him before putting him to sleep in order to protect his mind from the horrors of the Warp. He commanded me to seek out the one named 'Shepard', he remembered. This must be some great warrior if he was mentioned by name. The Emperor would not have mentioned him otherwise.
The Emperor had also informed him that there were Xenos in this universe, though he mentioned that they were innocent. While that was likely a given, since he was in another Universe as the Emperor had made clear, he wondered why these new Xenos were 'innocent.' It is likely that they are Xenos that have not engaged in any attempt to exterminate our species, he noted.
That was something that he knew he would struggle with, and not for lack of trying. For most of his life, he'd been conditioned to hate the xeno, purge the heretic, kill the mutant and purge the enemies of Man. It was something that was taught to all citizens of the Imperium, and Space Marines had the strongest level of indoctrination in that regard, aside from Inquisitors that is. While he would do his best to obey the Emperor, overcoming the urge to kill every Xenos around him would be… difficult, to say the least.
I am the Emperor's Angel of Death, but as the Emperor wills it, I will do my best to restrain myself, he thought. If this 'Shepard' works with any xenos, it would do well for me not to kill any that work with him, or her. With that fully in his mind, he moved towards the door.
In addition to his ranged weaponry, Tyrellus had another weapon at hand, though it was not his primary one. Holstering his Bolt Rifle, he equipped his Heavy Bolt Pistol, before unsheathing a weapon that he used only when necessary. A loud, roaring sound cut through the air as he activated his Chainsword. The mono-molecular teeth smoothly slid on it's track within the blade, the promethium engine humming as it's Machine Spirit awoke.
Looking at the door, Tyrellus examined it for a means of activating it. Pushing his hand through the hologram did nothing, indicating that he needed something that he didn't have to open the door. Frowning, he revved the motor on the Chainsword before swinging the blade vertically.
Sparks flew through the air as he cut through the door with little trouble, the sharp, mono-molecular edged blades cutting through the metal with greater ease than he expected. While this was unusual, he did not question his good fortune, as he finished cutting through the locking mechanism. With the door's lock undone, Tyrellus walked up to the door and, gripping both halves, roughly pushed both halves to the left and right. The door, while strong, wasn't able to stand up to the Space Marine's strength, as both halves were roughly shoved into the walls, with dents in the metal where he'd pushed.
Sheathing his Chainsword, he looked around as he drew his Bolt Rifle. He found himself entering a large space, though it was unclear whether this was a building, or a spaceship that he was on. He could see what looked like plants in planters, while the rest of the place was made out of metal. His expertly trained eyes and mind noted that he was in a two level room, with the upper level on the right being accessible via stairs, while the left side split into two corridors moving to the left and right. The lighting of the place was dim, with the beige/sepia colored light casting a gloom onto the place. Overall, it wasn't very welcoming, though Tyrellus had been in worse.
As he looked around, he noticed an odd odor in his nostrils. Sniffing the air, he quickly picked out what it was. That is smoke, he thought to himself. And the stench of decaying flesh. Where there is smoke, there is fire, and where there is the stench of putrefaction, there is death. With that in mind, he began to advance, weapon at the ready as he moved forwards.
Most of the corridors were empty, with some having signs that he, quite strangely, could understand. Perhaps the Emperor granted me knowledge of languages other than Low and High Gothic. If so, then may He continue to grow ever stronger, and, if possible, return to full life.
It was when he passed through the fifth door he found that he saw what was really going on. Looking around, Tyrellus frowned when he saw bodies lying on the ground, on tables, and inside of planters. Some of the bodies were burning, the flames licking at dead flesh that would be undergoing necrosis otherwise. The rest, though, were lying on the ground, with flies and maggots eating at the dead flesh. An overwhelming, and sickly sweet, stench filled the air.
I have seen this before on planets that were being overrun with the taint of Chaos. Some of the mortals, in a desperate bid to hold back the taint of Chaos, would burn any infected bodies to destroy any diseases before they could spread. It made him frown when he saw similar sights on other worlds, and here was no different.
As he advanced forwards, he thought he heard a strange, gurgling sound. Looking to his left, he noticed that one of the bodies still had life in it. The xeno, as he quickly figured that out, resembled a cross between a bird and a reptile, with digitigrade legs, a thin waist and barrel chest. it's hands ended in three fingered talons, while it's feet ended in two toes. It's face was covered in what appeared to be bone, or horny material, with a pair of mandibles on either side. It's dark blue eyes were gazing at him, pain and fear mixed into one overwhelming miasma.
Walking over, Tyrellus noticed that another body was lying right next to the xeno. It looked similar, only it was larger, and it had a bony crest, whereas the xeno that was alive was smaller and lacked one. A female from the looks of it, or I am a fool, he thought. The one lying dead must be it's mate.
A moment later, he heard the xeno gurgle something out. Apparently, his assumption that the Emperor had granted him knowledge of new languages was correct, as he heard the xeno gurgle out, "Please… end my… suffering. I… I'm dying…" She coughed a moment later, before a sound akin to weeping came from her.
It struck him as to how much pain the xeno was suffering from, enough that he felt a very small pang of pity for the xeno. Even we do not cause this much suffering, especially with something as dishonorable as a plague, he knew deep down. If she desires release from her torture and suffering, then I shall grant it.
In an act of compassion, something that was rare in the grim, dark future, he pulled out his Bolt Pistol and said, "I will find whoever is responsible for this, mortal. If the Emperor accepts xenos like you, if what He told me is true, then may you find peace and rest in His arms, and may your mate find the same." With that, he pulled the trigger once.
The loud, concussive BANG-ROAR of the handgun echoed in the space. The bolt tore through the xenos' chest, before detonating inside, severing the spinal cord and destroying it's internal organs. Just before it died, Tyrellus saw the xeno mouth the words 'thank you', before it went limp, eyes filled with relief before the life faded from them forever.
The irony of the scene now hit him like the Carnifex that had hurled him into the Warp. For a moment, he was conflicted, unable to determine how to react or continue from this. Part of him wondered if he'd been tricked by one of the Ruinous Powers, only to throw that thought away quickly.
I would know if that was the case, he said to himself. I have encountered the Neverborn before. I know what their touch is like. Emperor help me overcome my doubts. Shaking his head, he continued forwards, weapons at the ready.
Eventually, he managed to reach another open area, similar to the one he first entered after leaving the room he woke up in. This time, he was on the upper level, allowing him to look down below to the ground floor. There, he found an number of aliens, but mostly two different species. The first were humanoid in shape, but had skin that looked infected, and their mouths had no lips, their dagger-like teeth exposed to the air.
The second was larger, though certainly not as large as he was, even without the armor he wore. They stood on digitigrade legs, had wide torsos and chests, and they had a hump on their backs. Their heads jutted out from the front, with a bony plate covering the tops of their skulls, while their wide set eyes looked around everywhere.
While he already would've been wary of them, he had them pegged as hostiles when he heard their talk. "Collectors make us powerful once plague is theirs," one of the humanoid aliens hissed. "Filthy humans bad. We kill them to stop them curing plague."
"Shut up!" one of the humped aliens growled. "Otherwise, I'll blast your head off with my shotgun!" He walked away, while grumbling, "Stupid Vorcha."
That immediately settled it. These 'Collectors' must be responsible for this plague, he determined. These xenos must be waiting to deliver the plague so that they can gain more power. However, they have attacked mortals, and Human beings at that, seeking to cure the plague, and for that, they must die. Without hesitation, he racked the bolt of his Bolt Rifle before proceeding to the ledge.
One of the Vorcha had heard that sound, with the alien looking around for the source of it. If it had been paying attention, it would've seen light reflecting off the eyepieces of Tyrellus' helmet. As it was, it's brainpower was so low that it didn't even think that it was about to die. That promptly changed within nanoseconds.
In a few milliseconds, a single, .75 caliber bolt zipped through the air far faster than a human could blink, smacking into the Vorcha's skull. It's skin and bony skull were no match at all for the diamantine tipped, mass reactive explosive bolt, with said bolt penetrating into it's skull in milliseconds. Another few milliseconds later, it detonated, blasting apart the Vorcha's head in a gory mess of blood and brain matter. It's body collapsed like a marionette who's strings had been cut.
The death was so sudden that the other aliens jumped in shock. This was the wrong move, as moments later, bolt rounds tore into their bodies as well, blasting some apart, while leaving deep, dinner plate sized holes in others. Those that had taken cover heard a loud, terrifying roar, akin to that of a rocket, as each alien was killed.
The one Krogan that had been shot lived long enough to see a massive figure armored in blue and gold armor descend down the steps, it's weapon barking loudly. A moment later, the Krogan heard the humanoid being shout, "My armor is contempt! My shield is disgust! My bolter is hatred! In the Emperor's name, LET NONE SURVIVE!" Then it's head exploded as a second bolt round tore through it's skull.
More Krogan and Vorcha rounded the corner, hearing the loud roaring report of the Bolt Rifle as it fired. Spotting them, Tyrellus took aim and, his mind moving at superhuman speeds, calculated the most efficient ways to terminate each of the aliens. In rapid succession, he pulled the trigger, while shifting targets faster than a human being could blink.
Moments later, the heads of each Krogan and Vorcha exploded as .75 caliber bolts tore through their heads. One Krogan's head exploded, with the headplate impaling the hump on it's back before it fell over, blood weeping every where. A Vorcha lost an arm, but before it could screech in pain at this new development, it's chest exploded, it's heart being blasted into dozens of pieces by the bolt that had torn into it.
As he advanced through Xenos infested alleys and backstreets, Tyrellus found that he was genuinely curious about the intelligence these new xenos had. Are they asking for their deaths, or do they have such little intelligence that they do not consider taking cover as a viable tactic? Even the Tyranids know to take cover when we are shelling their position. Either way, he decided not to press his luck, as he continued to fire on the enemy.
In terms of intelligence for these xenos, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being that of the average Human, he gave the Vorcha a two, and the humped aliens a five. Charging forwards, he ignored the bullets that impacted against his armor. That told him the aliens used Autoguns, but they were either poor quality, or meant to penetrate lesser armor, as the bullets simply bounced off of the hardened Ceramite, Plasteel and Adamantine that his formidable armor was composed of.
Putting on a burst of speed, he smashed into one of the humped aliens, hitting it with such force that he hurled it into a wall, crushing it's spine, as well as it's ribs simultaneously. Firing his Auto Bolt Rifle, he blasted it's head apart before it had a chance to get up and attack him. With that hostile down, he focused his efforts on neutralizing more of the foul xenos in the area.
For the next two minutes, as he moved forwards, he blasted his way through any xenos that were in front of him. As he did so, he found out he wasn't the only xeno faction that was inside of the diseased district. Moving through one such place, he quickly spotted xenos that were different.
The first were similar to the bird-reptile like xeno that he had mercy killed. The other was more humanoid, but it had brownish colored skin, and four eyes, instead of two for normal humans. Their armor was blue and white, like his own, with a symbol of two suns, one white and one blue, on the front of the armor. Both xenos were standing behind a barricade.
As soon as they spotted him, they were greatly surprised. "What the hell?!" the humanoid one shouted. "What is that?!"
"A spirits damned mech is what it is!" the bird like alien shouted, his, as the voice was unmistakably male, voice flanging as he shouted. He also sounded ill, but it seemed as though he was pushing through by sheer force of will.
Aiming his weapon at the xenos, Tyrellus decided to make his stance clear. "I do not wish to harm you, xenos, but I will do so if you provoke me unnecessarily," he said, the vox-grill on his helmet amplifying his voice. "Stand aside, lay down your arms, and I will spare you. Attack me, and I will show you the folly of attacking a son of Guilliman."
"Spirits!" the bird-reptile like alien shouted. "I think there's a Human in there!"
"He's spreading the plague!" the humanoid alien shouted. "Kill him!"
"Are you kidding?! That guy's wearing armor that would make even a YMIR turn green with envy! I'm not going to attack him! That would be suicide!"
"I don't care! He -" The humanoid alien's shouting was interrupted when a bolt smashed into his chest, punching through the armor as though it wasn't there. That, combined with the explosion that happened inside of his chest, caused the xeno to tumble to the ground, dead.
"SPIRITS!" the bird-like xeno shouted, clearly horrified by his compatriots death. Looking at Tyrellus one more time, he made the smartest choice he could have: he laid down his weapon, got off of the barricade, and laid down on the floor in a spread-eagle fashion. "Please let me live!" he pleaded with the Space Marine. " I don't wanna die! I've got kids, a wife, please!" Moments later, he coughed loudly, blood coming out of his mouth as his body was wracked with spasms.
If he was expecting to be shown mercy mercy, he wasn't disappointed. "You have shown more sense than your compatriot," Tyrellus told the xeno. "I will let you live. If you attack any Humans, or myself, I will kill you slowly, and horribly. Am I understood?"
"Yes!"
"Good. Now stay put, if you value your life. Do not make me regret my decision to show mercy." The xeno remained where he was, not willing to find out what might happen if he made the giant Human angry.
Moving past the xeno, Tyrellus continued to move deeper into the district. Eventually, he found himself tangling with a few more xenos, his Bolt Rifle barking loudly as he efficiently neutralized each xeno. As he gunned the last one in his sight down, he thought he heard something behind him. Turning around, he caught a faint glimpse of someone moving behind him into cover. More soldiers hiding, or I am a fool. "Come out, mortals," he said to the hidden figures. "I know you are there. It is useless to hide from me."
. . .
On the other side of the exchange, Commander Shepard was surprised by the fact that he'd been spotted. "Shepard?" he heard Miranda ask him. "Orders?"
With that in mind, he considered his next move. A few minutes ago, he had gotten into the quarantined Gozu District in order to recruit Mordin Solus, a former STG Operative that was running a clinic on Omega. Rumor had it that he was working on a cure for the plague that was running rampant in the District. Said district was also in the middle of a turf war between the Blood Pack and Blue Suns mercenary gangs that had control of this area, with sick and dying civilians caught in the crossfire.
Getting to him wasn't easy, though, as they were having to work through the Blood Pack, and scattered Blue Suns personnel. On top of that, as they moved through the area, they got reports of entire squads of Blood Pack that had been decimated, and that a single Blue Suns mercenary had been spared. Until then, Shepard had thought that it was another squad that was operating in the area, though the reports were conflicting at times.
Now, he was almost face to face with the cause of it, from what he could tell. It was far larger than even he had thought, standing at well over eight feet in height. The blue-white-gold armor it wore was unlike anything he'd ever seen, with the craftsmanship making it appear more like a museum piece than body protection. The weapon was quite similar, though Shepard had a feeling that it would make short work of his own combat hard-suit. In short, everything about this newcomer screamed, 'I can kill you immediately. Don't piss me off.'
With all of that in mind, he decided to make his choice. Standing up, he held his weapon in a manner that indicated he didn't want a fight. "Let's not make any moves that we'll all regret," he replied. "Zaeed, Miranda, do the same."
"I'm not sure that's very smart, Shepard," Zaeed remarked. "It killed all those fucking mercenaries and didn't break a sweat."
"If he took down whole squads of Blood Pack without breaking a sweat, I doubt that we'll do the same," Shepard countered.
"A wise decision on your part, mortal," the unknown replied. The fact that the unknown used the term 'mortal' had Shepard confused. "Now, come down here, so that we may speak." Not wanting to cause a commotion, Shepard decided to comply.
Walking down the steps, he slowly approached the figure, rifle held low to the ground. Even closer, he found that the armor was quite ornate, with the symbol of a double headed eagle embossed onto the chest armor in gold. The helmet looked like it was well built, with the eye pieces shaped as though they were a pair of eyebrows furrowed in either anger or contempt; either way, Shepard had no intentions of assaulting the figure, as he could now see how thick the armor on the pauldrons was. He was about to put the rifle down when the figure snatched it out of his hands, examining it before looking at him. "Mind if I introduce myself?" Shepard asked.
"That would be wise, mortal."
"Very well," Shepard nodded. "I'm Commander Shepard of the Normandy. With me are -"
He was promptly interrupted when the figure's eyepieces snapped directly at him. "Did you say your name is Shepard?"
"Yes. I used to be a Lieutenant Commander in the Systems Alliance Navy. I was also an N7, before I was killed in action in the Terminus Systems. I was brought back by a private human organization after two years. Why do you ask?"
The moment Tyrellus heard this, he immediately knew that this was who the Emperor had asked him to assist. He has the bearing of a soldier, and a veteran of war. No other would have the same bearing. "Because it is my mission to assist you, Shepard, in destroying the darkness that threatens the galaxy."
Shepard's brow furrowed at that. Sent to assist me? Darkness? What does he mean? "I'm not sure that I quite follow you."
"I was sent here to assist in destroying a darkness that destroys all life in the galaxy every fifty thousand years. The Emperor of Mankind told me to 'seek out the one named Shepard' and that I was to assist him in destroying this darkness."
The moment Shepard heard the 'fifty thousand years' part, he immediately knew what this man was getting at. "I assume you mean the Reapers by this darkness?"
"Reapers? Elaborate, now."
"They're a races of hyper-intelligent machines that come very fifty thousand years to destroy all life in the galaxy," Miranda explained. "They were responsible for wiping out the Protheans, a civilization that existed before us, and they would've done the same to us if it wasn't for Shepard stopping their invasion two years ago. We're trying to find a way to stop them permanently, as we've learned that we've only delayed the invasion."
"Abominable Intelligences… I see. That would explain quite a few things," the man remarked. After a moment, he took out what Shepard realized was a fusion between a chainsaw and a sword before bowing to one knee, sword in both hands, tip to the ground.
"My mission, given to me by the Emperor of Mankind, is to help you destroy these Reapers, Shepard. I will do what I must to assist you." Getting up, he sheathed the weapon.
Shepard was surprised. Apparently, this man was a servant of some powerful individual, if he was called the 'Emperor of Mankind', and had been tasked with helping him. "I assume this Emperor of Mankind is your leader?"
"Yes. I will explain more later, Shepard. Right now, we must prevent this plague, which is possibly warp-based in nature, from spreading any further."
"That's what we're here for, so no worries there," Shepard agreed, even though he was wondering what this man had meant by 'warp-based.' "Before we go, what's your name?"
The armored man looked long and hard at Shepard before speaking. "Usually, we do not give our names to mortals. However, since the Emperor of Mankind told me yours, and that you are a defender of Humanity, I will oblige you. My old name is lost to time, but you may call me Marcus Tyrellus. I am a Battle-Brother of the Ultramarines, a Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes."
"I see," Shepard remarked. "We're heading for Mordin's Clinic. I'm not sure that you know the layout of this place."
"I do not, Shepard. Lead the way. Should we encounter any resistance, I will deal with it."
"Are you sure?"
"Just because my armor is ornate, does not mean that it is not protective. None of the weapons here can hurt me in any way. Mine, however, will bring death to the foul xenos ahead of us." With that, they advanced forwards.
"I wonder what he means by 'xenos'," Miranda remarked. "Probably the non-human races of the galaxy."
"I'm more curious as to this 'Emperor of Mankind'," Zaeed remarked. "Guy's probably got one big fucking checkbook to make armor like that."
Tyrellus, having heard that, turned around and asked, "Do you dare mock the Emperor of Mankind?"" The tone of his voice, and the fact that he was reaching for his Heavy Bolt Pistol, showed that he'd taken the comment as an insult.
Zaeed, recognizing this, said, "Easy, Tyrellus. I was trying to make a compliment. Gotta have a lot of money, as well as some smart minds, to make nice armor like that. Wish we had the same." Apparently, that was enough to mollify Tyrellus, as the Space Marine nodded, before turning around and walking towards their destination.
"Please be more careful, Zaeed," Shepard frowned. "I don't want to have to be explaining to the Illusive Man why your corpse has a hole the size of a dinner plate blown into it."
"Noted, Shepard."
With that, they proceeded towards the clinic. As they did so, Shepard rolled his eyes at Zaeed's remark. I hope he doesn't keep up with that line of dialogue, he thought. Otherwise, it's going to get pretty boring really quick.