"The next exhibit, Item B-2, that we're going to bring up now will be stills taken from the home page of Chimera Corporation's main extranet address. We've compiled two different pictures of the site taken at two different times – roughly eight months apart. The first image, dated just a few weeks ago, shows Chimera's slogan here: 'Earth's provider of training solutions and management.' Your typical boilerplate statement. Now, in the image dated eight months ago, we find Chimera's previous mission statement here: 'Humanity's security workers and threat eliminators.' As you can see, the language is a little more inflammatory this time around. What do you say to that, Mr. Koenig?"
Sen. Jeunet, European Union (France)
"What can I say, Senator? We had a marketing firm come by, Adolphus Inc., and they ran a promotional campaign two or three months ago in which they determined that the change in language was crucial not only to maintain our current customer base, but to attract a new pool of revenue by appearing less… aggressive, as you have insinuated."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera
[AUDIO DISTORTED FOR 5 SECONDS – MUTED GRUMBLINGS OCCUR IN BACKGROUND]
"So… Mr. Koenig, was there a particular reason why you had Adolphus come to your firm to give the brand a makeover? Did there happen to be a particular incident that might have kicked that entire process off, in order to build up your company to seem friendlier to stockholders, or perhaps your board of directors?"
Sen. Jeunet, European Union (France)
"You're referring to the incident in Del Rio, I assume?"
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera
"The timing would seem coincidental otherwise. Del Rio, Texas. A simple checkpoint crossing where your troopers opened fire on a fleeing car, the hapless driver merely frightened by the presence of your contractors. The five civilians in the car were killed—sorry, murdered—three of them children. Was that when you personally made the call to Adolphus, after you learned of the incident?"
Sen. Jeunet, European Union (France)
"No, ma'am. The call to Adolphus had been something we had planned out for months. It was just unfortunate timing that it had been made within the same timeframe of the checkpoint shooting."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera
[MORE GRUMBLING OCCURS]
Gargantuan.
Chilling.
Inhuman.
Such descriptors were running through Shepard's mind at a breakneck pace as he swallowed hard in the presence of the Legionnaire upon his doorstep. The evening light was casting a more hellish glow than normal, turning the surrounding desert blood-red. Surrounded by the throbbing color, the Legionnaire stood just a few steps away from Shepard's door, with his hands at his sides, his large slit eyes hazing a steady beam straight into Shepard's face.
The cyborg barely shifted his movement as he crept ever closer to Shepard, causing soft mechanical noises to be emitted. Shepard did not know what to do – should he run into the house? Lock everything down? He had not counted on anyone finding him here at all, so the appearance of a potential foe such as the Legionnaire was completely messing up his train of thought as how to proceed next.
How could I have been found?
But the Legionnaire did not speak again just yet, adopting a position of amiable placation. Shepard's analytical mind noted that the cyborg did not appear to be armed. He could see no pistol strapped to the Legionnaire's waist, nor could he discern any rifles or assorted weaponry strung along his back.
Shepard was not stupid, though. He knew that the Legionnaire didn't need a gun to put up a good fight. Those thick, metallic arms on the machine could probably punch through several inches of Silaris armoring and not be any worse for the wear. Such was one of the advantages of trading the flesh for metal: it tends to wear out less quickly than any organic compound. Plus, it easily held the advantage when it came to knocking against bone. Realistically, Shepard glumly realized, was that if he tried to pick a hand-to-hand fight with this… thing, he'd be torn apart in seconds.
Now the cyborg finally dipped his head in the barest sense of an acknowledgement, sensing that Shepard was still not going to engage in conversation just yet. "You know who I am, Shepard?"
"Yeah," Shepard muttered hoarsely with a vague nod. "I do. You're the Legionnaire."
The Legionnaire nodded once, his anticipation palpable. "You're aware of who I work for?"
"Chimera."
"Remarkably well informed, for a hermit," the Legionnaire's tone indicated that if he could be smiling, he would be right now. "A mistaken admission on your part. For someone hiding out in the edge in the galaxy, I would have expected you to have been behind on current events. Yet, you're au fait on who I am and of Chimera. A little too well informed… unless you never completely severed your connections to your past life. Who in the Alliance have you been speaking to, Shepard?"
Shepard clamped his mouth shut, fearful that he might already have screwed something up. The Legionnaire had run his trap almost immediately—a test to determine just how much he really knew about the precarious climate ongoing back on Earth. Already he had failed to conceal his position. Damn it. He ran his next words carefully through his head, making sure that there was nothing that he could possibly give away by speaking next.
"No one," he shook his head, but even he knew that this was unconvincing. "I haven't been talking to anyone."
The Legionnaire appeared to absorb this rapid denial sagely. "Ah, so it was Admiral Hackett, then," the cyborg deduced smugly, seeing right through Shepard immediately. "Don't look so shocked, Shepard. Who else would you feed you high-level information in the Alliance anyway? Not Colonel Alenko or Captain Vega, I would imagine. Esteemed individuals as they are, they don't have access to the sort of resources that Hackett would be able to relay to you. But if you thought you could keep that a secret from me, Shepard, I will give you just this one warning: it won't do you any good to underestimate me in the future."
Shepard was not sure what to make of the Legionnaire. The metal cyborg was a behemoth, intimidating to look at, and at least a good head taller than Shepard. Despite his massive stature, the Legionnaire spoke decisively and crisply, making sure that each word slashed Shepard's mental defenses right down to the bone. Now that he was even closer to the metal monster, Shepard could see that the front face plate, between all eight of the Legionnaire's oculi, was partially transparent, giving Shepard a clear line of sight to several bundles of wires all snaking around in the interior of the skull of the cyborg including a brief glimpse of a fleshy, red organ that lay just beyond a metallic partition.
The most unnerving aspect about the Legionnaire, though, was the way he spoke. The cyborg had quite an unusual voice. It was like two separate pitches were layered atop each other, much like the flanging effect present in turians, but it sounded like there was a very low, almost rumbling bass-y pitch that seemed to shake the very earth, coupled with a high-pitched sort of rasp that made up the acoustical foundation of the Legionnaire's voice. Shepard didn't know which particular pitch he should be listening to; it sounded like two different people were speaking all at once.
The Legionnaire tilted his head, as if he was scanning Shepard from head to toe. "You've definitely aged, Shepard," the odd voice uttered. "Twelve years will do that to a man. The beard, the grayness. But so rapidly? No matter, I already know what ails you."
Shepard tightened his mouth, not saying another word.
"You still carry that caliber of the man you once were," the Legionnaire pointed a thick metal finger delicately. "I can see it. Some habits just cannot be undone, can't they? But I want you to know that, whatever personal feelings you might have towards me, I believe that all individuals should hold some esteem for what you've done in the past. I certainly do."
"Why are you here?" Shepard asked roughly, steeling himself so that he would not look back over his shoulder, his thoughts immediately turning to the lone individual still inside.
Roahn. Whatever happens, I have to protect Roahn.
The cyborg shrugged, nonchalant. "Our duties sometimes take us to places where we would not want to be otherwise. But you already know this. Just as you already know why I am here and what I want."
"I have no idea of what you want." Shepard held onto his distrust, never losing sight of it for a second. "Get out," he let the empty threat ring. "Go back to whomever sent you. I am not a threat to anyone. I don't care what someone might want with me. I am here because I wanted to be alone. That's all."
"Shepard, Shepard," the Legionnaire chuckled. "You of all people should know that no one is truly alone. Not in this galaxy. There is nowhere that you can run from to hide from the inevitable. As the proof I hold here indicates…"
The Legionnaire spread his hand and a square holographic interface extended across his palm, hovering just over an inch above his hand. The metal arm tensed and extended in a smooth motion, "tossing" the hologram over to Shepard. Shepard's own omni-tool display detected the incoming file and "caught" the message, causing it to display on Shepard's tool without him even lifting a finger.
United Systems Alliance Supreme Court, the heading of the document blared out in Old English text font.
United Systems Alliance v. Jonathan Shepard, Cmdr., Shepard silently continued to read. You are summoned to appear before the United Systems Alliance Supreme Court at the time, date, and place set forth below to answer to one or more offenses or violations based on the following document filed with the court.
Apparently an indictment had been filed back on Earth under his name, Shepard discovered as he continued to read. There was no record of who had been the individual who had provided the initial filing, but Shepard had a strong feeling as to which person it was.
"Larsen's getting rather desperate, is he?" Shepard just said as he disengaged the court document. "This is just another distraction meant to rile up his polling numbers."
"Nonetheless," the Legionnaire said, "it symbolizes more than you could imagine. Whoever has a grievance towards you is not my concern. What is my concern is the task of transporting you back to Alliance space, whereupon you will be arrested and summarily forced to appear in court if you end up refusing this offer today."
The Legionnaire had spouted all this off in a brisk and clipped manner, but it took a few seconds for Shepard to respond because the significance of it all had hit him in the face with the force of a brick wall.
"What…" he uttered, "…the hell… did you just say?"
The cyborg held out his hand again and another holographic document appeared in mid-air for the both of them to look at. "It's a simple process, Shepard," the Legionnaire said conversationally. "What I have here is the warrant that Senator Raynor Larsen imposed on you twelve years ago, on the day you abruptly left his hearing back on Earth. It still has not been rescinded. Not only have you been cited for contempt, but now also for treason, bumping you near the top of the Alliance's most wanted list."
Feeling dizzy, Shepard wiped his brow as his vision momentarily began to blur. Good god, Shepard thought. Contempt. Treason. Words he knew should never have been associated to his name. For more than a decade, he had thought if he had left well enough alone, the ambitions of his enemies would die out, starved of the precious fuel they needed. But in his absence, they had not been extinguished… they had flourished.
"However, I have been instructed to inform you that all of this has the potential to be eradicated in a matter of moments," the Legionnaire continued. "That is, if you come quietly with me today, without fuss, and turn yourself into the nearest Alliance outpost, the warrants in your name will be dissolved and you will have a clean record. No longer will you need to worry about being pursued any longer."
Gathering his strength, Shepard took a large enough breath for him to be able to speak.
"If I go quietly."
Sensing a shift in the air, there was a whirring noise as the Legionnaire's chassis slowly tensed. "If, Shepard. If."
"You can't even touch me," Shepard found himself starting to hyperventilate, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck beginning to irritate him. "There is no way that you can drag me off this planet legally. You need me to cooperate. If I refuse, you have nothing."
"You are technically correct. I am not supposed to be able to arrest you on Rannoch, which is foreign soil, but you and I both know that the law can be bent by the stronger force that leans on it."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I just might. I was tasked with bringing you in. If you truly know who I am, then you should be aware I have a habit of never leaving a job incomplete. I have been given the full authority by the same body that issued your summons to utilize the entire force at my disposal to arrest you. I was brought on board specifically to make sure that you provide your testimony to the right committee. After all, you are the felon among us when you fled the Alliance to escape your subpoena."
Shepard gave a wry smile. "Better than being a gun-for-hire for some power-crazed moron."
The Legionnaire laughed, the odd tones of his voice emitting quite an ugly sound. "We all start somewhere, Shepard."
"Please," Shepard snorted. "I'm fully aware of whom is really pulling your strings. You were only sent to fetch me because of some back-room political decision made when you were nowhere near the room. If you manage to succeed, and if somehow, my testimony to Larsen does manage to get on the record, you're still going to have to make me publicly reject the notion that I was compelled to cooperate under duress."
"That's not my responsibility," the cyborg said stiffly. "Nor is it any of my concern."
"Of course. Why wouldn't it? All I'm going to be doing is handing Larsen his smoking gun on a silver platter. He wants me to testify so he can appeal to his base and enact himself as the senator who was tough on any other species that isn't human. Larsen thinks that what I have will manage to swing a significant portion of public opinion against aliens so severely that it might just be able to pave the way for humanity to reign as the dominant species in the galaxy on the political side. He wants me to paint our allies—the salarians, asari, turians, and everyone else—in a bad light for his political gain, something that I will never do. If he gets that, he might just make a good case for him moving up to be humanity's new councilor—or perhaps, the new prime minister. Have I gotten that right?"
"Wouldn't know," the Legionnaire shrugged carelessly. "The politics behind your arrest are not in my interest. But you think that I'm the one you need to appeal to. You are mistaken. I am merely the courier. Are you ready to cease your charade? Will you continue to embark in this pathetic defense of your already besmirched character, Shepard?"
Shepard backed up a step, his foot gliding over the smooth and dusty rocks of the porch. "Perhaps I will."
"Then you will only make life more difficult for yourself."
"Am I really to believe that you're doing this because you were ordered to?"
"I am not programmed, if that's what you're thinking," the Legionnaire snapped back, the first real sign of anger Shepard had seen from the cyborg. Shepard then realized that he might be biting off more than he could chew if he managed to anger the Legionnaire beyond reason. "I have my own motivation for seeing this through to the end."
Breath lodging in his lungs, Shepard asked, "Want to clue me in on what that might be?"
The Legionnaire's fingers clenched into fists tight enough to shatter rock.
"Simple," the cyborg breathed. "You're the last obstacle in my way." The Legionnaire then took a single, decisive step towards Shepard, who noted that the metal foot that stepped down onto the stone of his porch was causing thick cracks to spiderweb slowly from where his weight was pressing down.
"That all? This isn't all because you have some vendetta against me, is it? Have I done something against you to make you hate me? I've had to deal with too many of those cases as it is."
"Shepard, my being here is not borne out of a petty grudge. As far as you're concerned, you haven't done anything to make me despise you in particular. But the fact remains that you have either the option to surrender or flee. I've seen fit to provide some additional incentives to make sure that the latter doesn't occur, if you will observe."
A twinkle of a stuttering red beam flickered into Shepard's eyes as the Legionnaire spoke and he instinctively threw up a hand to protect himself. The notion that something far more sinister was afoot threw him for a second and, almost tentatively, Shepard oriented his hand so that he could see the innocently wavering red dot projected perfectly upon the back of his limb.
Laser sight.
Gunmen.
From beyond the Legionnaire's shoulder, Shepard could see movement in the hills above him. Red and black armored troopers were knelt down amongst the rocks, partially obscured by the dry bushes. Spotters and snipers. All aimed in his direction. Shepard looked down at his chest to find two more dots carefully projected there—warnings for him to get in line. From where he stood, Shepard could make out five… maybe six troopers in total waiting for him, their guns focused in a tight cone of fire so that he would obey the Legionnaire's demands or risk being put down.
"Backup?" Shepard asked, still looking at the Chimera troops beyond.
"Call it motivation," the Legionnaire said. "They haven't been ordered to kill on sight, merely to wound. It wouldn't do to put down someone of your stature, Shepard. But individuals do tend to capitulate at a greater rate when you bring the threat of pain into the equation."
Shepard huffed in derision. "Then your troopers will have quite the time on their hands trying to get me to crack. I've faced so much pain that they will never be able to replicate such sensations."
The cyborg silently absorbed this, his impassive face seemingly stiffening in irritation.
"If you don't comply," the Legionnaire warned, "you will be running for the rest of your life, Shepard."
Surprising even himself, Shepard matched the Legionnaire's gesture, closing the gap by another step.
"I've run this far. I can run a little more."
But then he heard the door creak open behind him.
Dear god… he thought. No… what are you doing?!
"Dad?" he heard Roahn's voice pipe up behind him.
Mournfully, Shepard took a slow blink and agonizingly turned his head to find his daughter half-concealed in the doorway. She looked surprised and torn to find her father staring up at a metallic monstrosity several times her size, but she apparently had not been unable to stifle her curiosity when she had heard the raised voices coming from the front of the house. Roahn caught the terrified look in Shepard's eyes and immediately she understood the inherent danger, beginning to tremble as she slowly edged back into the house.
"'Dad?'" the Legionnaire mocked, the dual tones of his voice sliding over each other in glee. "No one said anything about this sort of development."
"Roahn," Shepard urged, wide-eyed, "get back in the house right now!"
The girl froze, wavering under the frantic stare of her father and the malevolent look the Legionnaire gave her that seemed to burrow deep into her skull.
"So…" the Legionnaire whispered, "you have your weakness after all, Shepard."
Shepard's blood came to a boil immediately. Muscles all throughout his body jolted and tensed in nanoseconds. Endorphins flooded his brain as one of the most primal of all human instincts latched onto his psyche. His lungs froze, making him nearly unable to breathe. Time seemed to creep down to a crawl—a result of a massive amount of adrenaline being dumped into his bloodstream. All moisture in his mouth vanished and a rage… a violent, untamable rage began to burgeon in his abdomen, steadily rising up through his chest to reach his head, filling his thoughts with madness and carnage.
A fearsome predator, unleashed within him. The patriarchal instinct to protect one's young, now on display.
All because Shepard was a father. A father who had vowed to protect his daughter.
To even think that someone would threaten to lay their hands on his child…
Everything then exploded in an instant.
Shepard screamed an uncontrollable utterance of the most blinding anger he had ever felt within him at the very same time he threw out his arm, activating his omni-tool to form a protective glove around his hand. The Legionnaire, despite his augmentations, was too slow to realize what was happening until the reactive barrier that Shepard had activated in a hemisphere-shape, protruding from the human's hand, touched the cyborg's metal chest. There was a flash and a muted thump—the Legionnaire was propelled backwards as the haptic detonation from the omni-tool projected nearly a kiloton of force onto him, sending the Legionnaire flying end over end to land upon the dirt several meters away from the house.
The Legionnaire coughed as he righted himself, using his hands to slowly push himself up. There was only a tiny scratch upon the cyborg's chestplate—the only damage that the miniaturized explosion had performed.
"As you wish, Shepard," the Legionnaire grimly stated as he watched his quarry pluck up his daughter and flee through the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind them.
Crackling sounds from the hills barked amongst the landscape—the Chimera snipers were laying down fire to little effect. Their bullets merely smacked into the front of the house but did not penetrate, creating a layer of sparks and harsh pings as the abode itself remained impassive.
To Shepard and Roahn, though, the noise from outside sounded like the end of the world. The very impact of the bullets sent micro-reverberations through the air, shaking their bones and rattling their heads. A wide-eyed Shepard, his omni-tool now deactivated, ran like hell through the house, Roahn clutched tightly in his arms, as he headed over to the fireplace in the corner of the living room. Shepard reached around the corner where the fireplace met the wall and flipped a hidden switch, causing the hearth to break open in two with a grinding noise, revealing a ladder that led down into a soupy black pit.
"Get down there, Roahn!" Shepard frantically ordered his daughter as he physically pushed her over to the ladder. "Do not come out for whatever reason!"
Roahn's feet found the first rung and she automatically began to lower herself down the ladder until a brief stream of consciousness found her. "You're coming too, dad?!"
"I'll be right behind you!" Shepard said after a brief pause. "Now go!"
There was not any more time for Roahn to argue. The girl gave a fearful whimper before she closed her eyes and led herself further down the ladder by feel alone. Shepard watched his daughter climb her way down before, through a tight face, he reached up and flicked the hidden switch a second time.
"But I have to protect you first," he said quietly.
Shepard nearly gave a mournful gasp as he heard his daughter scream in helplessness and betrayal as she watched the passageway close above them, separating the two behind a barrier of solid rock.
"Dad!" was her final word before the hearth shut itself closed, leaving her all alone.
"What are you doing, John?" Shepard asked himself as he was beholden only to an empty fireplace now.
There was a smashing sound of metal being torn apart and Shepard whirled his head around to witness the Legionnaire bursting through the front door like it was made of paper, sending bits of metal and glass spilling over the floor as dust from an outside breeze billowed in.
"Yes, Shepard…" the Legionnaire uttered as he marched through the broken foyer. "What are you doing?"
Growling and wild-eyed, Shepard shot to his feet and raced over to where the Legionnaire was confidentially striding his way. Shepard engaged the haptic detonators on both of his hands and rushed the cyborg, his fists glowing with warm energy. With a furious roar, Shepard made a flying leap toward the Legionnaire, his fingers clenched to send another powerfully directed explosion his foe's way.
The blow never landed. Not completely.
Instead, the Legionnaire, his eight oculi tracking Shepard's every movement, calculated his own counterattack and raised his hands wide, catching Shepard's fists perfectly in his larger grip. The haptic detonators slammed against the cyborg's palms and exploded, but the Legionnaire dug his heels into the polished granite floor and tightened his grip, locking him in place. Smoke rose from the useless detonations and the Legionnaire's heels left deep scratches in the rock floor as Shepard hopelessly looked upward towards his enemy.
The Legionnaire gave a triumphant hiss. "I touched a nerve back there, didn't I?"
His hands still locked in place, Shepard roared through clenched teeth, "I'll turn you into scrap for that!"
"You don't have the strength for that anymore!" the Legionnaire retorted with a laugh.
The beastly automation then raised a leg and slammed it powerfully into Shepard's sternum, simultaneously letting go of Shepard's hands, causing him to sail through the air. Shepard landed heavily on a plush couch, which cracked in half under the strain of taking the full weight of a two-hundred pound human. Part of the halved couch got pushed back so far from the sheer force that it slammed into the deck window, which was made of glass, shattering it and sending cold Rannochian sea air blowing into the house.
As Shepard struggled to brush broken glass off of him, wincing as he realized he probably had bruised a couple of ribs, the shockwaves from the Legionnaire's footsteps heralded a towering arrival. Standing over the fallen human, the cyborg looked more titan-like than ever.
"You're no longer in your prime, Shepard," the Legionnaire taunted. "Twelve years without a war brings out the atrophy."
Spitting out blood, Shepard grimaced as he jumped to his feet, trying as best as he could to ignore the sudden pain in his joints. His fists raised in a defensive posture, Shepard stutter-stepped as he approached the Legionnaire, who was now standing completely still, almost tree-like. He tried to activate his haptic detonator program again, but his omni-tool was malfunctioning. The hemisphere discs of contact explosives were stuttering in and out of existence around his hands. Shepard had a quick moment of panic—his omni-tool was the only device he had at his disposal that could even give him a hope of surviving this day!
And now they were broken.
Regardless, Shepard swung a fist, but the Legionnaire lazily deflected the blow with a smooth motion, sending Shepard's arm in an entirely different direction. Infuriated, Shepard jabbed with his other fist, impressively fast, but the Legionnaire chopped an arm down and deflected that blow too.
It was hopeless. The Legionnaire was unlike any foe Shepard had ever faced. The cyborg had an entire cruiser's worth of combat suites locked inside his central cranium—software that specifically monitored and dictated every single offensive and defensive action ever thought up in all of existence. Long range shooting, close range combat, and every form of martial arts, the Legionnaire had them all at his disposal. He could even ramp up his attacks to seven strikes a second, if he warmed up the motors in his limbs well enough beforehand.
But faced with an older and considerably less powerful opponent like Shepard, despite his experience, the Legionnaire was barely having to push himself to his greatest limits.
Shepard took another hefty roundhouse swing at the cyborg, right at the moment his omni-tool decided to briefly fail upon him. Bare knuckles smashed directly into the thick metal of the Legionnaire's chest—the cyborg had not even made a move to deflect the blow this time. Shepard roared in pain as he clutched his ruined hand—at least a couple broken fingers, and they were already bleeding like a stuck pig.
The front of the Legionnaire's chassis was now blotched with Shepard's blood, a dirty red smear that marred a matte gray landscape, and yet the cyborg stood by, waiting for Shepard to tire himself out. Enraged by the Legionnaire's apparent nonchalance, Shepard reached out with his good hand and groped for the nearest object within reach: a vase, one that Tali had made years ago, Shepard realized too late with a pang.
As Shepard whirled his arm through the air, creating a flat blur, he hurled the vase with all his strength right at the Legionnaire's head. His foe did not even bother throwing up an arm to block it, as the Legionnaire simply let the vase impact upon the front of his skull-like head, emerging unscathed as the ceramic construction dissolved in a fractious mist around him, sending spiraling coats of dust crumpling to the ground as the remains of the vase tumbled at his feet.
"Lasts acts of a desperate man," the Legionnaire said conversationally as he brushed sheets of dust from his shoulder in a subtle taunt, his metallic fingers making a horrendous screeching noise as they rubbed against the metal of his collar. "But I would be remiss if I truly expected the Commander Shepard to surrender without a fight."
"You're right about that," Shepard seethed as he stumbled to his feet once more, fists raised and ready to slam them into the core of the Legionnaire.
The hulking foe sidestepped Shepard's next wild swings, moving so fast it was as if he was made of air itself. Shepard stumbled as his fists met an empty void, his balance thrown off to the point where it was becoming a hindrance. Taking advantage of Shepard's state of mind, the Legionnaire reached out his clawed hands and clasped them firmly around Shepard's wrists.
Shepard tried to pull back in a moment of panic, but he was trapped in the Legionnaire's grip.
"How far you have fallen, Shepard."
"If you're going to fight me, then fight me," Shepard spat. "Otherwise, shut up."
"Fool. If I was seeking to kill you, I would have done it by now."
Not giving Shepard a moment to answer, the Legionnaire squeezed his right hand and gave a firm yank, pulling Shepard's omni-tool off of his body. The orange holographic shapes around Shepard's arms fluttered and died without as much as a whimper. There was a crunching noise as the Legionnaire squeezed the tool. Electric bolts fluttered between the cyborg's clenched fingers as the tool disintegrated under his pulverizing grip.
"Oh crap," Shepard said as he looked at his bare arm.
A rumbling noise emitted from the Legionnaire in what seemed like a perverse mutilation of a laugh, a mere second before the cyborg unexpectedly shot his head forward, slamming the pointed tip of his helmet smack dab in the center of Shepard's forehead.
A blistering pain erupted in Shepard's skull. He felt hot blood begin to drip down his face. His vision churned and melted. Stars seared his eyes.
The Legionnaire now looked a fright with Shepard's blood painting his own faceplate. A splash of crimson splattered across his orange-yellow eyes.
As Shepard reeled, the Legionnaire gave another unintelligible noise before he, now clutching onto the front of Shepard's shirt, lazily swung his arm up and over, taking the human with the movement. Shepard was hurtled through the air and over the kitchen counter, careening into stored utensils and picture frames, sending them clattering to the ground only for him to join them as he finished tumbling off the stone counter. A jar smashed next to Shepard's hand as he blinked while lying stunned upon the ground, slicing at him and causing the skin of his palm to begin bleeding all over the floor in earnest.
Peering over the counter, the Legionnaire's immovable expression oddly seemed to have the sort of bemused quality that would indicate only a slight level of irritation present.
"Enough playing around, Shepard," the Legionnaire sighed. "You're only going to continue to get hurt unless you stop this nonsense."
Blinking blood out of his eyes, Shepard shakily got to his feet, pressing his hands onto the glass-coated floor, spreading blotchy red handprints everywhere.
"Foolishness?" Shepard just breathed before his eyes flickered over to the counter, next to the stove, where a rack of kitchen knives lay. The Legionnaire followed Shepard's gaze with his own, the blazing orange glow absorbing all of the information but choosing instead to stand idly by in bemusement.
With a savage roar, Shepard reached over and plucked a long carving knife from the rack. Wheeling around the corner of the kitchen, Shepard positioned the knife in his hand in a stabbing thrust and speared it straight towards the Legionnaire's chest. The Legionnaire very well could have evaded the blow, but deliberately chose not to, his unblinking "eyes" merely focused on the onrushing point of Shepard's blade.
The reasoning for this apparent laziness in the Legionnaire was made all the more clear in the next second, when Shepard's body rebounded off of the cyborg's frame with a loud whump, his arms jerking as the knife seemingly plunged into his enemy's chest. Shepard backpedaled, his arms and shoulders now smarting, bruised from his heavy collision.
The Legionnaire just looked at Shepard for a single second before he glanced downward at the knife protruding from his chest. The carving knife, although it had made contact, had only embedded a centimeter into the Legionnaire's chestplate. A pathetic effort—no damage done whatsoever. The only reason it had stuck into the Legionnaire in the first place was because Shepard had miraculously aimed his blow into one of the cracks between the shifting plates in the Legionnaire's chest.
Looking at Shepard again, the Legionnaire gave a disappointed huff. "I wonder if you really expected that to work," the cyborg shook his head before he easily wrenched the knife out from where it had stuck, discarding it to the side with a careless clatter.
The gigantic armored behemoth then tucked his shoulder down before whirling about in a wide-armed strike that caught Shepard perfectly in the middle. Shepard gave a hoarse cough as the wind left his lungs and he again found himself flying through the air, having enough time during his weightless jaunt to have the weird and obtuse thought about… Roahn.
His back then hit the ground.
Groaning and rolling around in pain, Shepard could feel the vibrations in the floor as the Legionnaire stomped his way. He tried to get himself back on his feet, but he lacked the strength to do so. Spittle ran down his bearded chin, frothing in his hair, as he desperately clawed for purchase.
"Got to…" he moaned as he futilely sild over the polished stone. "I have to…"
Whatever Shepard meant by his blathering never became sound because he trailed off as the Legionnaire slowly circled Shepard, now putting himself between his prey and the main door. Confident that it was only a matter of time before Shepard gave in, the Legionnaire backed up a step, facing away from the doorway, giving Shepard enough room to decide where his fate lay next: if he truly wanted to dig his own grave by continuing to fight, or by accepting the inevitable and surrendering himself into the Legionnaire's custody.
"I was told that you would be determined and adamant," the Legionnaire said. "But I never thought you'd be deluded."
"What can I say?" Shepard mustered a smile after spitting a wad of blood and mucus on the floor. "I come with the whole package."
"Time certainly has done you no favors. Look at you, all broken down. There's barely any of your fight left."
"Give me a minute to stand back up and I'll prove you wrong."
The Legionnaire could only stare at Shepard until he finally lost his patience and withdrew a pair of omni-cuffs from where they had been strapped upon his back. The cuffs glowed orange, the same color as Rannoch's sun, and the edges brimmed with a vibrant energy.
"This has gone on far enough, Shepard. I've entertained your fantasy for longer than necessary, but your glory days are far in the past. Besides, did you really think that this could possibly end any differently?"
"As a matter of fact…" Shepard mustered as he used his arm to push himself up halfway, now fumbling for something in his pocket, "…yes. I did."
Only then did the Legionnaire notice the tiny remote Shepard was holding in his hand.
There was a tiny beep as Shepard's thumb depressed the singular button.
Radio waves hurtled across the air in less than the precise amount of time it took for a human eye to blink. Even the Legionnaire would be unable to react in time to the unseen energy waves rippling through the air and all matter. The frequency set out by the remote was keyed to a specific transmitter, one that would begin the exact reaction intended once the radio waves unceremoniously smashed into the receiver.
And smash into the receiver they did.
More electrical signals trickled through wires nanometers wide as miniature transceivers furrowed the commands through an interlocking grid—a highway for all energy and intent. The signal, having reached its intended source, flowed all throughout the foyer, near the entrance, into a serrated net: a tangled web of microfilaments made out of K-EX, a high-grade construction detonating substance. K-EX, a low-volume, highly combustible material meant for demolition crews, was a turian creation that was very tightly controlled in the intended sectors. Even a small amount of K-EX would be sufficient enough to disintegrate a thousand-ton boulder and turn it into gravel.
In larger doses, it was devastating.
The K-EX in the weaponized filaments all fizzled and fired at the exact same time while duristeel wedges directed the explosion outwards, towards the front door. Anyone standing to within five meters of the door had a guaranteed shot of being in the direct blast zone while anything outside of that zone of influence had ample protection from serious injury.
Unfortunately for the Legionnaire, he happened to be directly inside the blast zone.
The Legionnaire looked upwards just in time to have an entire wall of fire burst from all around him, surrounding and shaping to his body, a flood of invisible pressure hugging at his frame. The resulting noise was louder than a bolt of lightning striking at its landing point—enough to blow out the ears of the Legionnaire, if he had any.
The booby trapped foyer had not finished in performing its deadly work. With temperatures in the front hall spiking up to 600 degrees Kelvin, the focused column of flame and noise lifted the Legionnaire off his feet in the half-second since the explosion began. The Legionnaire, too overwhelmed to react, was quickly spat out of Shepard's home in a heated fury, flames licking and blackening his chasses. The cyborg was hurtled through the front door, the shards of broken glass melting in the explosion's wake, and deposited a dozen meters outside into the dying evening on Rannoch.
Lying on his back in the dust, the Legionnaire now realized that he was looking at the starry night sky, fully separated from Shepard.
"Fuck," he murmured out loud.
Shepard himself started to cough up a lung as black smoke began to pour into his house. Through tear-streaked eyes, he could see that the front door was in shambles, completely gone, a mesmerizing barrier of flames having replaced it. He could not see where the Legionnaire had been propelled to. Shepard only knew that he had just this one chance to escape.
But he would do it right this time.
It was no small effort for Shepard to stand up on his own volition. It took a few tries with him stumbling about, but once he had fully risen, he would never fall back down again.
The trap set at the front of the house had worked perfectly. Truth be told, Shepard was impressed that it had performed its function exactly as intended. While he knew the Legionnaire would not be killed by such an explosion, it had effectively separated them long enough for Shepard to make his move.
Clutching at his ribs, Shepard limped through the house as the flames from the front door began to spread along the floor and the walls, the fire now moving and flowing like a thick liquid, streaming almost lazily as it devoured its fuel with a ravenous hunger. He was bleeding from his mouth and from cuts all over his body, but he ignored the pain and discomfort as best as he could.
Shepard stumbled into the kitchen and frantically ransacked one of the cupboards, throwing out bunches of silverware and assorted glasses, before he finally managed to locate the Predator pistol he had stowed since this morning. But that was not the only thing Shepard was searching for.
Fortunately, he knew exactly where he had stored the other item.
Rushing as fast as he could to his bedroom before it could be burned to a crisp, Shepard knelt down by his dresser and opened the bottommost drawer. There was a hidden bottom within that drawer that lifted away when Shepard tugged on it. Inside was a thin, unmarked package. Grabbing a knapsack, Shepard quickly thrust the package into it, along with the pistol, before he set back off towards the living room.
Shepard fumbled for the hidden release to the ladder that he had sent his daughter down and once the path was revealed to him, he wasted no time in gingerly lowering himself down it. Before the fake fireplace could be automatically slid over his head, Shepard took one final look at his home that was now being consumed by fire. He could see through the destruction, though, as he realized that he was leaving the place where he had expected to settle down forever. He had built this house, designed it from the ground up, for his wife. He had tried to raise a daughter here.
But in mere moments, it would all be gone. Ashes. A distant memory.
With a heavy heart, Shepard looked away and continued on his path downward, soon to have a blanket of darkness swallow him up.
Meanwhile, the Legionnaire was fuming right outside the house, standing still as a statue while he watched the abode burn to the ground.
Smoke rose in faint wisps from where the inferno had been the most intense, but on the whole the Legionnaire was uninjured, perfectly functional. However, he was frustrated beyond belief, emphasized by the fact that he felt that he had been particularly sloppy for letting Shepard get away. He had humored the man too much, fallen into a rhythm of enjoyment that had proved to be his undoing when Shepard had unleased his little trick upon him. That would reflect badly on his performance, the Legionnaire huffed.
A sharp sound of glass exploding temporarily drew the Legionnaire's attention. One of the windows of the house had shattered from the intense heat. The fire was now streaming outside in long ribbons of light, sending a gigantic smoke cloud rising into the air. The Legionnaire was debating storming what remained of the house in an attempt to relocate Shepard, but he had a sinking feeling that Shepard was probably long gone. The man was too crafty and too proud to die in such an ignominious fashion. A house fire did not deserve to be the thing that claimed Shepard's life. No, Shepard had managed to flee, he was certain of that.
This was practically confirmed when one of the Chimera troops that was patrolling the perimeter jogged up to the Legionnaire, breathing hard through his helmet from the exertion and also from the nearby heat.
"Sir," the trooper reported, "scanners are reporting no life signs within the house, but the fire has not been going on long enough for anyone to be killed."
"So he's fled," the Legionnaire said as he continued to stare, mesmerized, at the burning house.
The trooper sheepishly tugged at his collar. "That's affirmative, sir."
The Legionnaire glanced behind him with a withering look, watching as the rest of his Chimera accompaniment roamed the hills, the rapid swinging of their laser sights creating bright red fans hurtling through the sky in a to and fro pattern.
Then the cyborg held out a hand in the direction of the trooper.
"Grenade launcher," he ordered.
The trooper appeared to be confused by this. "Sir, what-?"
But the Legionnaire had no time to dither around or be restrained by the slower-minded. Impatient, the Legionnaire roughly grabbed the nearest trooper, spun him around, and yanked the grenade launcher that was hanging off the man's back so hard that the straps tore. The Legionnaire flipped the gun so that the grip was snugly in his hand before he wheeled about and aimed it towards the house.
The tube of the launcher made a hollow noise as it launched the first projectile through the door.
There was a fierce rumble and a mushroom cloud of bright yellow fire puffed out from the opening while a tremendous crashing noise emitted near the back of the house, whereupon another column of smoke began to rise—a result of the ceiling caving in near where the grenade explosion had occurred.
The Legionnaire sent out two more grenades through each of the front-facing windows, causing large chunks of the building to be completely blown off when the released pressure from the combusting gasses blossomed and expanded within the rooms. By the time the legionnaire had lobbed the final grenade, Shepard's home was now in complete shambles—the fire was now allowed to grasp for the sky now that much of the ceiling had been blown away. Crackling and sparking noises also careened into the encroaching night as some of the interior walls crumpled away, sending out a massive plume of embers like a flock of gulls in a feeding orbit.
Tossing the launcher back to the trooper, the Legionnaire started walking away from the flaming wreck. Raising his arm, he keyed in his automated contact number and waited for the connection to be cemented—it always took longer to connect a call when the distance between the conversationalists was very great. Rannoch, being far away from any place in particular, was quite the frustration for bandwidth purists.
"Identific—," the automated voice began, but the Legionnaire was quick to cut off the robotic response before it could even finish its first word.
"Override signature mark fifty-nine oh-four," the Legionnaire snapped. "Code phrase: Myotis, Macrotus, Molossus. Ident: 5907-14-33 Hotel Lima."
"Connecting," the voice smoothly said, its core processes successfully overridden.
The Legionnaire knew he was only supposed to use this override sparingly, as it put the receiver at an increased level of risk, but he felt he had no choice. He needed to get new orders now and he did not want to be shuttled around by a bunch of proxies parroting requests off each other.
There was an audible click on the other end as the calls connected.
"Speak," Larsen's gravelly voice burst through.
The Legionnaire had no facial expressions to betray his misgivings, nor could the other person on the line see him as this was a voice call. However, the Legionnaire still had a sour feeling left in whatever remained of his stomach that unnerved him to a certain degree.
"Shepard has fled," the Legionnaire reported sharply. No sense in trying to fluff things up a bit, especially for a man like Larsen. "I made contact with the man, but he managed to evade me. No visual on him at this time."
The lengthy pause that Larsen gave was excruciating. The Legionnaire was never scared but he could not help but be a little unnerved from the delicate tightrope-ing of these mind games that Larsen was playing about with.
"Is he still on Rannoch?"
"Unknown," the Legionnaire admitted. "But I don't see any reason why he would remain on the planet."
"Why would you think that? And what the hell's that crackling sound?"
"That would be the remains of Shepard's house, sir," the Legionnaire looked over his shoulder in affirmation. "It's burning to the ground right about now."
A horrid laugh came in over the comm. "Goddamn, son. I said take the man into custody, not blow up his home."
"It couldn't be avoided. It would stand to reason that with the loss of his house, Shepard would be very inclined to stay away from the region."
"No doubt, no doubt," Larsen agreed. There was a groaning noise as Larsen was ostensibly stretching out in a chair somewhere back on Earth. "Well, if the man wasn't on notice already, he certainly is now. In any case, I'm pulling you back, Legionnaire. Your task to apprehend Shepard is suspended for the moment."
Suspended? This is not what the Legionnaire was expecting. "Am I to understand that I am being reassigned from my current mission due to what is merely a temporary setback, sir? Because if that's the case—"
"Not at all. Rest assured, Legionnaire, this decision has nothing to do with your performance. It is for political reasons purely that you are being pulled for the time being."
The Legionnaire, not fully understanding, kept quiet.
For his part, Larsen seemed to understand his subordinate's reservations. "I understand if this comes as a surprise to you, so I'll give you the quick rundown of the situation at the moment. Shepard is a high-profile individual in the media spectrum as a character of great interest. The fact that the general public has no clue of his whereabouts right at this moment is of no consequence. The problem that we face is that we have to pull Shepard out of his private life and into the public spotlight. When Shepard comes back into the fray, and I assure you he will, we have to be able to control the narrative of his return, spin the optics in our direction so that we will be able to apprehend him and not lose any support from the voting base. It must seem that he will return to civilization of his own volition."
"I was not informed of this aspect," the Legionnaire growled. "I was assigned to capture Shepard without any regard to the political climate. I don't give a damn what the public would think of what we're doing."
"Which is why you would make a dreadful politician. Every decision we make can be spun against us. We're treading on a minefield right now—a move against Shepard is only inviting scrutiny upon Chimera and me. I can handle the public up to a certain extent, to the point where I can make it so they'll never find out about this first incident, but we need to limit our contact a bit. Give Shepard some room to breathe."
"You're expecting him to become complacent once he's roaming the galaxy unthreatened, then?"
"More or less. From here on out, Shepard can only move closer to where we are. There is a certain predictability to the man that I know can be exploited. He sticks closer to familiarity rather than the unknown. Why else would he remain on Rannoch in the first place? His wife was the only link. There are other places that Shepard has strong ties to—places that we will have an easier time in performing our eventual apprehension."
The Legionnaire perked his head up as he now understood. "I see. We've drawn him out, but we have to draw him back in. You want Shepard to come to you."
"Precisely."
"You knew that Shepard would escape me the first time, didn't you?"
"I had a suspicion, knowing the man's… tenacity. Either way, there's a contingency in place."
Crafty Larsen. In all the years the Legionnaire had worked for the man, Larsen's trick was that he was very good at not showing all the cards in his hand, but just enough of them so that his subordinates could get a clear idea of what Larsen's intention was. The Legionnaire found Larsen's caginess to be irritating most times, but so far the man had never deliberately led him astray just yet.
"Very well," the Legionnaire rumbled. "I will follow your orders, but on one condition."
"And that would be?" Larsen sounded a little miffed. It was rare that people lower than him would dare ply him for their demands.
"Let me know when you're betting against me."
The cold smile that Larsen was undoubtedly making could very well be felt on the Legionnaire's end.
"A fair proposition. You have my word."
The chemicals that surrounded the Legionnaire's brain in its housing fizzled with relief. "Then I will pull myself back until you give the order. But Shepard may go to ground again at any time. You might need me to act quickly."
"Speed is less important than you might think," Larsen laughed. "We've been looking for this bastard for so long that simply finding him was of the utmost priority—why else did you think that boarding that salarian vessel was so important? Those neurotic little shits had been stockpiling Shepard's location all this time, storing it in their computers, until you came along to take it for Chimera. And now, Shepard has been made aware of our intent for good. We've flipped that rock on that roach. And once that rock is flipped, the roach may try to scramble for cover, or run away as fast as it can, but it's too late. It's out in the open. Now we will always know where it goes. Now we can kill it."
A/N: I did say the plot would be moving forward, didn't I? But this was probably not how some of you imagined it. Who knows how things can go from here? Let me know what you think of the chapter!
Playlist:
Legionnaire (Cyborg Theme I): "Hal's Child Unchained" by Justin Burnett from the video game Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain
Watching the House Burn: "Too Close" by Marc Streitenfeld from the movie Prometheus