Red ... red ... red ... red ... I wonder if that's how drugs should be.
The lasers that had been running through my body for almost thirty minutes were finally gone, beeping when the scan was over. I took this as my cue to get off the scale with all the laser equipment around and put my clothes back on. It is not that I am not a fan of just wearing underwear, but I still a healthy man and there's a lady of purple color quite attractive with me in the room here.
"Hum…" A glance over my shoulder showed me that Dr. T'zena was looking at her terminal with a thoughtful expression. "This is quite unexpected. "
"So, what is my diagnosis, doctor?" I asked, putting on my pants. If she says I have a brain tumor, I can use that "say my name" line. Oh yeah, I remember you now Walter white.
"Well, clinically you are fascinating."
"I'm glad you like what you see." I smirked.
"If I had analyzed you more thoroughly Rather than waiting to turn you off when you first came here, I would have seen this sooner." She replied impassively, ignoring my flirt. Meh, I tried. "You have ... quite interesting mods in your body. " Mods?
"What mods?" I asked, putting on my shirt and standing beside her to look at the terminal. They may just be holographic images of my cells and bones that don't make any sense to me, but it's still my body and I want to know if there's anything out of scales.
"Your gen mods are completely out of the books. At first sight looks just like the ones you can get on the black market, but if you look more carefully you realize that they are military-grade." She replied, smiling at what looked like excitement. Gen mods… I don't remember what they are. The results of not having spent time on the game's Codex.
And now this is biting me in the ass… read and study, they said. Knowledge is power, they said.
"Ah… Dr. T'zena, you are speaking but it is as if I am just listening to you speak thessian without my translator." Or whatever allows me to understand what she says. "Could you explain, starting with the gen mods part? "
"Right, I had forgotten your amnesia." She rolled her eyes dismissively. "Genetic engineering and gene therapy in simple terms is the alteration in an individual's DNA. Usually carried out to treat diseases common to your species that were once incurable."
"Okay… I'm following you there."
"Genetic engineering is also known to be a field of interest for alliance personnel. Currently, all troops undergo gene therapy that gives them advantage in combat." She explained. "Some civilians with enough credits can also get it on the black market, but these mods are generally of inferior quality compared to military level. "
"And apparently my body have these so-called military level genetic modifications." I conclude, winning a nod from her. Well… shit. This is awesome, and at the same time bewildering and very uncertain. "That's not all, is it? You wouldn't be flabbergasted by military level enhancement. From what you said they are expensive, but they are not a rare sight."
"Shrewd." She manipulated the terminal panel and the image of my body structure changed to show the implants, with several readings on the side. "Most of the alliance's gen mods have a more defined purpose, helping with fitness and improving reaction time is one of those purposes. But yours ... seem to have been made for ... more extensive operations. "
"Meaning?"
"It's much more advanced, I would say that they are experimental technology. I can't say with precision, but whatever genetic engineering they've done to you seems to help with injury recovery and blood clotting. What else your body can do, I can't tell you with my current gear."
"... so I'm practically a mystery box walking." I said dryly. Gen mods… hell. "And what can you tell me with precision?
"I was hoping you would ask me that." She said, with that super excited smile of hers. Does she see me as a kind of scientific discovery or something? It is the first time that I see her smile. "Your bones are the most unusual thing. They ... are not normal."
"Is this the part where you tell me that I will never walk again, then we cry together and I try to prove to society that I am not incapable?" I chuckled, even though I'm freaking out inside. I have machines or whatever is inside my body ... I don't know how I feel about it. Well… maybe a little violated.
Her response was to ignore my comment and type in her terminal again, changing the image of the mods to the image of bones that I assume are mine.
"Watch."
"... Well ... they are ... bones, right?" I said awkwardly. What's she want me to see?
"Yes, they are bones." She said with another eye roll. "But the readings ... are not ordinary bones. They have been genetically altered as the rest of you, made it as hard as can be expected. Would give you a little more strength and durability compared to other humans. "
"How much strength are we talking about here?"
"You couldn't get hand to hand with a krogan and survive if that's what you're thinking. You're not bulletproof either, or can lift a car."
"What about dislocating a Turian's jaw with a blow?"
"Possible." She replied impassively.
I just shuddered, nervously scratching my neck in discomfort and looking with a certain amount of reluctance in the direction of my leg. The kick… the impact on that turian's face… it's still fresh in my mind, so fresh that it gets sick.
The fact that the headaches stopped the night of the incident and that I slept like a baby for the first time since I woke up in this wretched world makes it worse.
Hell…
"Doctor, and how are my brain readings?"
"Regular." She replied, displaying my brain image on the screen. "I still can't give you a clear diagnosis of what they were, but any abnormal activity in your brain is gone."
"Well ... I don't think you have anything more to tell me about myself that I don't know about yet?"
"That's all, unless you want to bother me with something else." She said flatly, starting to work at the terminal. And speaking of a way for you to feel welcome...
"You wouldn't have a psychologist to refer me, would you?" Nothing abnormal with my brain … should I attribute to the psychological problem the voice I heard before I had a homicidal crisis? My question made her look away from the terminal and look at me in surprise. "What?"
"You know, this is Chalkhos Kane. Most would not be living here if sanity were a requirement. So I guess you don't have to worry." She snarked.
"Was that a no?" I asked impassively. Is she trying to imply that I'm crazy? Because I've already done a pretty decent job of convincing myself of this in the last few hours …
"No one I can recommend, unless you are interested in traveling to the citadel if you can afford."
"In that case, I think you and I are done for now doc." I said, heading towards the door.
"You can set everything up at the reception, know the drill."
"Yep." I said before the door closed behind me, making my way to the elevator.
"It was confirmed this morning that the Batarian government mobilized several ships from its fleet in a violent offensive against one of the few worlds that are under protection of the private security organisation known as the blues suns. Neither side said anything about it, but it is possible that the hostilities between hegemony and the security group are far from coming to an end. "
Security group? New term for mercenaries it seems. What a shit huh. I took another sip of my batarian beer while the voice of galatic news continued with today's "good news". Hegemony attacking the suns, this is unexpected. There was always a certain rivalry between the mercenary groups that was very noticeable, and it was even more brutal when I read about it. But the Batarian hegemony attacking the blue suns ... is something I never thought of.
They sure did something that pissed them off.
Not that I care ... but it's better than ... thinking. While thinking can be a good and even benign thing, put up ideas straight. For me ... it's just a way of seeing the horrible human being that I am. My memories are a scene of infinite and unbearable torture.
Does this mean that finally the overwhelming guilt of my actions has reached me? Hahaha... no. And that is exactly the problem, remembering what I did ... does not awaken anything in me. No remorse for the six lives I took, no nightmares or anything. The only thing that bothers me is how calm and peaceful I am with it.
This is the riddle that plagues me: what kind of man am I? Is my head so fucked up that something like murder is nothing to me?
Fuck it. And fuck my common sense for not allowing me to get drunk.
My internal noir monologue was interrupted when my omni tool orange holographic interface lit up, emitting the constant beep of a call that I just ended. That's what, the fifteenth time? I stopped counting or caring three numbers ago, amazing how repetitive it gets after a while.
"You look horrible." I glance off my beer to face the albino krogan behind the counter. "Well, more than usual. Usually you're just the soft, weak equivalent of horrible, but today you're like someone who has faced a thresher maw and hasn't felt the satisfaction everyone feels."
"Hilarious Kratus, really really funny." I rolled my eyes, scowling when the omni tool lit up again with another call that I refused.
"This crap has been playing all damn time since you got here. Why don't you just take the call right away?"
"It's not that simple… it's Drerk, most. I didn't show up at the workshop today and he's looking for me like a dog chasing a bone." I took a deep drink of batarian beer, the sensation of alcohol tickling my head. "Just don't tell him that I used this comparison or he'll try to hit my head with a bench, apparently he knows what a dog is."
"I won't ask." He shrugged.
"Well, I didn't think you were. You never seemed like the type to hear customers' hurt-"
"No, I meant that I'm not going to ask what dogs are." He cut me off, staring at nothing with the krogan version of a thoughtful expression. "I imagine they are at least a little bit like varren?"
"Something like that." I chuckled. Although ... comparing a varren to a dog, it makes me wonder if varren can be tamed. Do you face them in the game? Meh. "Only a little easier to be domesticated. Do you guys domesticate varren?"
"We used them in Tuchanka to attack."
Meh, that was definitely not in the game. Or maybe it is and I don't remember. Fight for survival and prevent the extermination of all life? Okay, easy to remember. Domesticated Varren? Nah. I think my memory is selective.
Which is nothing but bullshit, since it's kept my last interaction with a video game instead of real memories.
And it's getting dark really fast again…
"Anyway, will you say it because you were all depressed like a vorcha who couldn't eat the remains of your prey or not?" He asked, taking a cloth and cleaning the shed.
"Well, that takes us back to the previous topic. I never imagined you as the guy who takes a minute to listen to other's problems." I replied, taking another sip of beer now half past it when the moment of distraction has passed. It was more fun when we were talking about varren and I didn't have to think about my personal shit.
"If you are waiting for me to say something to the console or to watch while you cry, I will tell you right away that I will crush your head on the counter if you get it wet. On the other hand, I won't stop you from talk." Translating: I will hear you, but I will make you regret it if you start to cry like a little princess in my bar. I think it's the best I'm going to get from him.
Why not, what do I have to lose?
"Well… I… I killed six people last night." I took a long drink of my beer, emptying the bottle. "Wow, that sounded a lot more sinister than I thought it would be in my head."
"I still don't get your point." He said with a ... confused expression, or looked confused. Krogan are always ... frowning. Kind hard to read.
"Ah… the point is that I took the life of six people? You know, six sentient beings who breathed, bled and loved just like me?"
"I still don't understand the point, but I'm impressed. I didn't think you had it on you." He said impassively. I just looked at him in disbelief.
"Seriously?"
"What?" He looked genuinely confused. "Are you feeling sorry for killing someone? Open your eyes and look around kid, you're on a planet where anyone would kill you for a handful of credits and a bag of red sand. The rule is kill or be killed. "
"This is total shit." I said, dejectedly looking at the empty bottle. "The problem is not killing ... the problem is that I don't feel a bit uncomfortable about it. The natural response of someone in my situation is totally freak out after doing what I did. Hell… I don't even know how I did what I did!" I sank my head into the counter, letting out a sigh of defeat.
"Just answer me one thing: would they have killed you?"
"An?" I lifted my head again to look at Kratus.
"The people you killed, would they have killed you?"
"Well… possibly… I think…" They were drug dealers after all ... they openly admitted that they would kill Harris just to make him an example. "Yeah, I think they would for sure."
"So don't be sorry." He said, stopping to look at me. "People here sooner or later will try to kill you, and it is a warrior's duty to defend his life with the same intensity that he defends his clan from threats or his tent from intruders."
In short: the people here will try to kill you for any shit, and you shouldn't feel bad because you just defended your own life.
This ... is somewhat logical. It was not by far self-defense, as I delivered the first blow (even though I had no idea how I managed to do that). But they hurt people and would have hurt many more, one of them being a friend of mine. And I… made sure it didn't happen, made sure they didn't hurt anyone else. wasn't self-defense, but doesn't mean that they didn't deserve it, or that they wouldn't do the same to me the first chance they got.
I killed a bunch of drug dealers… yeah, I think I can live with that.
"Kratus, you are a well of wisdom." I said with a smile.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, I'm still charging for beer."
I just grunted, turning on my omni tool and transferring the credits to the smiling krogan.
If leave me here with all the hard work while you drag your skinny ass around are some kind of game, I'm shaving your already short hair and dragging you naked into the blood pack district so they can-
"Jesus Christ, I'm not going to finish reading this crap!" I exclaimed, turning off the omni tool so I wouldn't have to read the content of the disturbing message. Batarians can be quite creative when it comes to ... whatever the thing Drerk sent to my email is.
I am almost sure that it is not anatomically possible for him to comply with what he said in the threat, but even so I better come up with a good excuse for not showing up. I had a moral crisis because I just killed six people would be a good one? Nah, he would just tell me to grow some balls and try to hit me.
Or kill me ... meh.
"Help me!"
I looked away from the door of my hotel room and towards the street where…
Where a pretty dirty and injured girl was running, or rather, trying to run. The wounds she had barely left her move, even more run.
"Somebody help me please ..." she sobbed, collapsing on the floor. "Please help me…"
This would be one of the times that any knight-like character in shining armor would meet her and help her like a good hero story. But ... this is not a hero story (as hypocritical and confusing as it may sound), it is real life. And all I could do was …
Was watching the krogan approach her and drag her back to the blood pack district as she screamed in despair. It wasn't until I moved that I noticed that my fists were tightly clenched and I was furiously clenching my jaw.
Fuck… that was… it was… shit… there are no words, there but no…
I punched the door, hard enough to create a small dent in the metal frame. I repeated the action, repeatedly punching the metal when I felt the need to vent my anger. Only when the low quality door was badly deformed and my fist burned with pain did I stop.
Fuck this fictional world and fuck this disgusting planet! All I want to do is take a shower, lie down and pretend it's everything okay. Or better yet, completely forget where I am just enough so that I can get some fucked-up relief! I turned on my omni tool and unlocked the door, entering the cheap, decadent, dimly lit room where I could have the least amount of peace.
Of course, peace was not what I found, but a pistol barrel being pressed against my forehead by a human teenager with a very familiar facial tattoo …
Look ... saying that I expected this would be a lie. But I think some part of my brain was already expecting something like that, because it looks quite old. I gave the evil smiling gangster in front of me a blankest look, indifferent to the gun against my forehead.
Will be a long afternoon.
"The kings of destruction sent regards your son of-" I cut him off from any cliché farewell message by grabbing the arm that held the gun, making him miss my forehead and twisting until the bone cracked.
Ok ... I just broke someone's arm for the second time ... don't think now Mike, just fight for your life motherfucker! KING KONG AIN'T GOT SHIT ON ME! I hit him with a surprisingly well-executed uppercut that made him stagger back and fall against the chair. My eyes met the batarian's in the room, which was already aiming at me.
Shit.
I get out of the way of the mass accelerator rounds with a rolling, letting it hit the wall where I was an instant before. I took advantage of the distance now closing between me and the batarian to hit the gun with an elbow strike that took it out of his hands and give him a punch that caught him in the abdomen. I tried to do that perfect uppercut thing again, but he pulled away from my blow and sliced it with a jab that caught me right in the jaw.
Son of a bitch! Shit… almost took a fucking tooth out of me! I hit back with a series of punches that he blocked with his forearm, hitting me with a hook that caught right in the ribs and then followed with another jab that caught me right in the middle of my face and made me stagger back against the wall. Painful but not so much. Hell… that thing about batarians being masters of boxing was a joke, but this guy is showing that this is painfully true. What the hell do I do? If I punch him he'll just block and retaliate with something worse. What options do I have?
The answer came in the form of my body reacting from pure reflex when the batarian smirking arrogantly lashed out at me again and I bent over his fist. This made him miss and punch the wall and I took advantage of the opening to punch him in the rib region and hit his head several times on the wall before kicking him right lower in back, pulling his aching ears until he fell to the floor screaming when a sickening sound of cartilage being torn was heard.
What… I looked at my hand to see that I had actually torn the ear of the batarian who was glaring at me with a withering and murderous look. Right ... that was more brutal than I intended. But it wasn't fucking intentional! He lunged furiously at me with a punch that I ducked over, grabbing his arm and pulling over my shoulder until he collided on his back on the floor.
Was that… was that judo? Hell, think later Mike, think and question later so you don't go crazy doing ... what you are doing. And especially don't give this bastard a chance to get up or he will kill you! I charged on the fallen batarian, kicking him in the face several times before lowering myself to his level and starting to punch him repeatedly and aggressively. As his face was being turned into a mess of bruises and blood under my strokes ... I stopped abruptly when I saw the bloody mess that was becoming his face.
The face that was now as badly beaten as...
As Smith's face when I killed him
"it is a warrior's duty to defend his life with the same intensity that he defends his clan from threats or his tent from intruders." A warrior's duty… fuck it. They came to kill me, I didn't even give the first strike this time. God forgive me, but I'm going to gladly kill this guy.
I was about to continue hitting the batarian until his face was reduced to a pool of blood, this until I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and looked just in time to see the boy I had knocked down before was now partially recovered and aiming his gun at me with the arm I didn't broken.
My heart sped up, sped up so fast it felt like there wasn't a muscle organ inside my chest responsible for pumping blood and oxygen, but a train traveling at full speed, leaving my whole body in a strange and energetic state of alert. The dark, dimly lit room was now more lighter and the edges of my vision were slightly distorted as the world seemed to be slowing down around me.
This slow motion effect gave me enough time to reach the gun on the ground next to me and aim perfectly at the human boy's head and shoot before he could even pull the trigger. My first shot was blocked by the blue transparent shield that collapsed on the second shot, allowing the third round of the mass accelerator to make a hole in the head of the gangster.
As the body collapsed at a reduced speed onto the wall stained with its own blood, my heartbeat returned to a more steady pace and the slight distortion of my vision disappeared when the world returned to its normal speed and I found myself breathing heavily.
Holy shit! That was… was it the adrenaline rush? It is not as simple as pressing a button as in the game let me say. Holy shit that was pretty intense and ... hell ... kind of agonizing. I put my hand on my chest, feeling my beats still a little faster even after the "power" effect was gone. Before it looked like I was plugged in, now it looks like I just ran an entire marathon.
Adrenaline rush, military-grade genemods, some hand-to-hand knowledge and… I looked in the direction of the dead teenager. My shot hit the middle of the forehead perfectly and went through. Clean and surprisingly accurate. And a hell of an aim.
So what, what does that mean? Am I an alliance trooper, soldier class? Although the infiltrator also had access to the adrenaline rush and… why am I having this internal debate when I still have a homicidal criminal to eliminate? And did I seriously just be casual about killing somebody?
I turned my attention to the fallen batarian when the latter began to groan in pain. The fact that I was not bothered by how disfigured and bloody my blows had made the left side of his face worrying me.
"Okay, now I'm going to ask you some questions, so you better give me some answers that I like." I said, my voice sounding so cold it startled me. Am I really going to get on with this, am I really going to hurt this guy just for information?
"Fuck you." He said between breaths of pain, spitting in my face. Okay, forget what I said before. I won't have any problems with that. Maybe later, but certainly not now.
"Wrong answer." I snarled, wiping the spit from my face and turning the gun in my hand so I could grab his opposite side and hit the batarian's injured side several times.
I did this until his already badly bruised side was severely mutilated to the point that I was sure that his upper left and lower eyes would never be the same.
"S..stop It… pl... please…"
"Ready to talk?" I asked, trying quietly not to face the damage I did to his face. Just because I was willing doesn't mean I liked it. "Or are you going to make me send you towards the pillars totally blind? You still have two eyes that I can break, as well as the rest of your face."
"What you want?" He whispered in pain, but I could still hear it.
"How many you guys are?"
"Fourteen in all ... seven ... now five out there." Fourteen, five out there? It would be seven counted with the two that I just took down. This is a division by two ...
"And where are the other seven? You don't look like you're trying to keep what's left of your eyes pal." I emphasized my point by keeping the gun a few inches away from the good side of his face. "Should I take the rest of your eyes off my hand this time? More painful and allows you to see them being pulled out of the optics you know."
Wow, I became a complete sick in just one night after what I wished had been my first and last murder. I should consider seeing that shrink in the citadel when this is over.
"No! Pillars… we came here to make you pay for ours that you killed last night! Fourteen men for this job, divided in two different directions!" He exclaimed in despair.
"And in what direction did the other seven go?"
"... They went to… deal with that guy who works with you in that workshop."
… Shit!
I turned the pistol again so that I could aim the barrel at the fallen batarian's head, pulling the trigger and ending his suffering with a shot to the head. They didn't really save time investigating, although how they found out so fast that I did what I did doesn't make sense. I barely touched anything there, and I doubt they had bugs in that sty. Although I am not exactly a crime scene expert, the methods for finding out who was at the scene must be much more advanced today.
Okay, think about it later. I still have five guys out there that I need to eliminate ... and again being casual about killing, luckily may still hope for my sanity when this is all over.
"Hey, are you idiots kidding in there or what, why the hell are you taking so long?" The voice came from the other side of the door, voice not sounds like a batarian or a turian. Human like me I guess.
I moved as quietly as I could towards the door, trying my hardest not to make any sound that would spoil any crazy plan my head had just formulated. My hands held the pistol at eye level, my elbow bending slightly to keep the sight and my eyes aligned when I crouched. Ok… that was very instinctive. I have no idea if I am in a good position, but for some reason I am quite confident and that seems right. So why not? Let's just follow the current and hope for the best.
"Hey, are you two listening to me in there, you dickheads?" My finger positioned on the trigger. Fingers crossed, five armed bastards. now it's all or nothing, Mike. All or nothing.
"Did you go deaf or…" the first thing the teen gangster noticed when he walked through the door was his dead colleagues, and then me aiming the gun at his head.
"Shit!"
Bang!
Here we are again. I was going to do this longer, but since I'm dying of sleep here(working on the night shift is not exactly an easy transition) I decided to let you find out how Mike handles the rest of the KODs and what's will Drerk's fate in the next one.
If you like it, review. Reviews are like fuel for me, always motivated me to keep going knowing that people are enjoying it.
O pior out
