HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
COUP D'ETAT PART ONE
June 22, 2186
1214 hours.
Cockpit, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Moving into dock with the Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula.
The Reaper War, The Citadel Siege.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, EDI.
"Try it again," Marcus ordered, his arms crossed along his broad chest and frowning.
Joker sighed, rubbing his temples as he leaned on his seat, "You realize this has been like...the sixth hail, right? Noone's picking up."
"Just do it Joker," the spectre practically growled, glaring at the pilot, "I don't want us to jumping conclusions."
"It isn't jumping when you've hailed six friggin times," the pilot then preemptively held his hands up in defense, typing on the console, as for the sixth time he accentuated, he brought up the comms and attempted to call C-Sec Traffic Control, "I repeat again, Citadel Control, this is SSV Normandy, are we cleared to descend? Could someone respond before I bust a kneecap?"
Again, for the sixth time he reminded himself, there was no response. Just silence over the comm. But this time, the disconnection was initiated on the other end.
Joker widened his eyes, looking up at him, "They heard us. Which means someone is there, and there are deliberately ignoring us! Bastards! Just because I didn't pay my rent doesn't give them the right to-"
"Joker, just shut up for a second," Marcus ordered, uncrossing his arms as he clasped his hands behind his back and moved over to EDI's seat, gripping the back of it, "EDI, could you run a scan of the signal? Everything about this is just...wrong."
They had spent the past seven minutes trying to get through, but as had been displayed, there had been no response on the other end; they weren't being blocked, because there was no static, so something had to be going on. Citadel Security wouldn't just ignore them. They were a registered warship, they made returns to the station almost weekly, so they were bound to be ontop of C-Sec's list of 'inbounds' by this point. So something else was going on. It couldn't be Reapers; they were powerful, but anything but subtle, not that they needed to be. No, something else. A terrorist attacks. That narrowed it down to two suspects.
Indoctrinated traitors or Cerberus. Mercs didn't have the power to take on the C-Sec Academy, and neither did militias, so it had to be those two.
"Yes, Shepard," EDI replied, her form typing at the console infront of her in a whir of movement. When she was finished, the data ran along her console, the AI absorbing it in mere seconds, "I have found no anomalies in the transmission that run out of normal parameters. It is not being jammed, tampered with or manipulated in any fashion."
He bit his lower lip, the captain beginning to pace the neck, seemingly mumbling to himself. I don't know what's going on down there, and I hate not knowing. He stopped, turning to Joker, "Bring us in closer; I want a visual on the Citadel, I want to know what's going on. EDI, contact Liara and link her to your console," he ordered, and they executed their tasks, Joker bringing the Normandy closer while engaging the stealth drive for safety, EDI sending a transmission request to Liara in her quarters. The pilot couldn't help but snatch peaks at her form, cursing at himself as she did so. Damn it, EDI's a robot! No matter how much of a damn sexy, hot body she-damn it, there we go again! Clear thoughts!
Liara's voice through EDI's comm was enough to assuage his thoughts, "You wanted me, Shepard?"
"Liara," he immediately addressed, leaning over EDI's console and speaking to Liara as he did, "Have you received any messages or vid-mail from your agents on the Citadel?"
The asari frowned, shaking her head, "No, should I have?"
"Damn it," he grumbled, shaking his head as he met the Shadow Broker's eyes, her eyes deepening in their frown, "We can't seem to contact Citadel Control and I think something else might have happened."
The asari nodded, her eyes widening, "Should I get suited up?"
He considered this for a moment and then contemplated the situation they were in. A potential terrorist attack or invasion was taking place. It wasn't a malfunction, because they would have backups running to avoid a traffic disaster, so that wasn't it. He had thought the Citadel Fleet being at the relay was odd, and this now seemed to convince him; someone had purposely led the fleet away to launch this assault, to ensure it couldn't assist in repelling them, which were the tactics of a general trying to make this a ground war; which definitely confirmed his thoughts of an invasion. It wasn't Reapers as there was no major presence of them. Which meant it had to be...
"Ah...Shepard," Joker sighed, the spectre turning to the pilot at his console who just lay his head on his fist, leaning on the chair arm, "I think I've found the source of our communications problem. It seems our ol' buddy TIM wants a meeting with us. He was even kind enough to bring a whole damn fleet with him."
"Put it on screen," he ordered, the declaration confirming his thoughts as he turned to Liara, "Get down to the shuttle bay and suit up, Liara. This could be a combat drop," the asari nodded and disengaged the comm, Marcus cracking his neck as he turned to the cockpit windows, only to see a large, holographic vidscreen propped up infront of it.
Joker's description was right on the money; where usually a mixture of asari, turian, salarian and human warships would be floating around with the Destiny Ascension at their core, was now a fleet of Cerberus combat vessels, with a dreadnought lazily sitting on its broadside right infront of the Citadel Tower, a carrier at its flank and numerous frigates, cruisers, destroyers and the lot flying around it, barring anyone from entrance. Cerberus must have lured away the defense fleet and snuck in the back door. Tenacious bastards, and they've got audacity. I didn't think the Illusive Man would resort to a full-blown invasion of the Citadel. That's just crazy. What the hell does he hope to achieve with that?
Because he's indoctrinated. He's simply doing what the Reapers ordered him to do; cause dissent and ruin our efforts to win the war.
Wasn't that theory pretty much scattered to the win after Noveria, though? Reaper troops attacked Cerberus, for God sake! That's alot of evidence!
Is it really? All of this just doesn't fit! I know he's indoctrinated, but Noveria has my mind divided! Why would Harbinger attack his own agents? Sovereign ordered the geth to attack Saren...what am I missing here!
He growled lowly, annoyed by the whole situation, "He just doesn't know when to fuck off. Here we are, trying to fight a war, and this asshole pops up every once and a while to cause us grief. Its starting to piss me off, more so than usual."
Joker looked up at him, grinning, "Does that mean we can go to his base and kill him now? Send a thanix cannon up his ass and send him where the sunshine don't go?"
He smiled alittle at that, finding some genuine amusement in the overall comment, "Oh, don't I wish I could. And even if we did, I wouldn't go straight to the throat. I've got a score to settle with Leng." Or two. Shala's husband and Jacob died at his hands. That's just one more bone I get to break in his body before I flay him alive and kill him as he pleas for merc-
He shook that thought away, shocked by how violent it had gotten. Christ Marcus, get a grip. You're not a goddamn barbarian. He couldn't deny how tantalizing the thought was, however. The shit Leng is making me think...you're up there with Harbinger, buddy. At this point, I've got two assholes I really want dead. He wondered how many more friends would die at that bastard's hand before he finally met his blade. No, no more. I will kill Leng before he takes one more life.
"So what, then?" Joker asked, "Combat insertion?"
Marcus nodded, "We can't do much up here without potentially damaging the Citadel and killing innocent people. And even if we could fire the thanix cannon...we're one ship against a whole fleet, and the Citadel Fleet, again, can't do anything unless they're away from the Citadel. No...Cortez can take us down and we can find out what's going on." One trip to Tuchanka, and look what happens...Thoughts of Tuchanka brought up Mordin again, and he quickly squashed those, not letting them impede his ability. I can't afford to think of that right now.
"Sounds like a great plan," Joker sarcastically remarked, "If there were a point to it. Shouldn't we just wait here and send a message to Hackett? You know, call for damn backup?"
He frowned at the pilot's attitude, but simply shrugged instead of responding, "Too much time would be wasted and the Council could be dead by then, or numerous innocent people. And as much as I dislike the Council, I need them very much alive if I'm going to persuade them. You can't convince corpses. They tend not to hear you."
"Damn, I never knew that," Joker dryly replied, exhaling as he rubbed his temple, "So deployment then. But shouldn't we call for backup anyway? We're talking a massive invasion of the whole damn Citadel; that's kilometers of space station. You can't tell me you plan to fight them off with just yourself and C-Sec."
He thought about this for a second but came up with an idea that could appease both sides, "Yes. While my squad deploys and quickly secures the Council, I want you to send Hackett over the QEC; tell him to send whatever ships and troops he can to the Citadel. Tell them its under attack by Cerberus and requires immediate assistance."
"And may he send rachni," Joker jested, beginning to type at his console as he sent a message to Cortez. Suddenly however, he stopped, as if suddenly realizing something. He turned to look up at Marcus, a grin across his face, "Wasn't Aralakh Company supposed to be coming to the Citadel?"
This time, Marcus did smile, "Indeed they were. Be sure to tell them what's happening. I'm sure Grunt would like nothing more than to just storm in."
"No shit. That cannonball would probably board that dreadnought and gut it inside and out and win the whole battle for us," the pilot chuckled, turning back in his seat as he finished his previous task, "Still, wouldn't hurt for us to weaken them up alittle. I'm sending a message to Cortez to get the shuttle prepped. You should probably head down there."
He nodded, "Copy that, I'll-"
"Captain," EDI immediately interrupted, swiping at her terminals, the AI frowning, which seemed to be a new feature for the synthetic, "I am picking up a distress signal. It is weak and on a limited short-band transmission; it has been transmitted across the comm network. Cerberus will likely be working to block it. It is transmitting from a precinct on the Presidium."
"Let's hear it, EDI," he ordered, face creasing in curiosity and came to stand beside Joker's seat, both of them listening intently. Who would risk transmitting with Cerberus troops all around them? They'd give away their position.
"This is Commander Bailey of the 17th Shalta Precinct of the Citadel!" the voice rang out, Marcus recognizing instantly, "This is an urgent message to any who can receive this! I don't have much time, so I'll cut to the chase! The Citadel is under attack! They've taken C-Sec Headquarters, the Presidium is under siege, and Shalta Ward has fallen! We can't coordinate defense properly and are in need of immediate assistance! Send backup, now! Get the fleet down here! We're going under the assumption that the Council is safe! Whatever you do, ensure their survival at all costs! If they fall, the Citadel falls! I repeat, if they-" as slapped across the face, Bailey's voice suddenly stopped. He frowned, turning to EDI.
"What just happened?" he demanded. Bailey was alive, so that was good. But his lack of knowledge on the Council's situation was quite alarming.
"Cerberus has cut the connection. However, short-band communication lingers when transmitted through the network; however, it will last no longer than five minutes."
The spectre nodded, keying his omni-tool as he contacted Garrus. Within moments, Garrus' face turned up on the screen, looking bewildered. But he quickly sobered when he saw the human, "Oh, Marcus. Ah...is there something I can do you for?"
"Yes. I'll cut it short, but Cerberus is invading the Citadel and we're about to deploy," he stated, "Grab your stuff and get down to the shuttle bay. Liara's already there, but you'd best get everyone else," he turned to the AI on the right side, "You too EDI; you're coming down with us. Full squad for this." Still, we're down two people now; Wrex and Grunt really formed the heavies of the group. Still, we'll do without them. I did so on Mars, and Menae, so I can do it here.
"Holy shit," Garrus cursed, eyes widening, "What about Victus? What are we going to tell him?"
"I'll be sure to ask him, but I doubt he'll mind. He's been on the Normandy this long; I'm sure he can last a bit longer," he nodded, "I'll see you down there, Garrus. Shepard out."
His omni-tool deactivated, the man slapping his pilot's chair, "Get us in a bit closer, Joker. Don't want to make Cortez work for it now, do we?"
The pilot coughed, "Yeah, sure. Not like Cortez actually knows what he's doing."
Marcus simply grinned, his voice a mumble, "Oh trust me, I know he does. Its your abilities coming into question."
"I've been judged by the guy who can't even drive a mako properly," Joker retorted, shooting him a glare, "I'm sorry if I feel like I'm being judged for evil by the devil. And don't even try to refute your bad driving. You know as well as I do that you can't drive for shit."
"Captain," EDI broke their conversation again, both of them turning to the AI.
"Yes, EDI?"
The AI turned to him for the first time since he entered the cockpit, eyes looking to be portraying...confusion, "I have detected the presence of a stealth drive being activated. It had a Cerberus IFF."
He frowned, a look of concern spreading across his face, "Cerberus has more stealth ships? This couldn't get much worse, could it?"
"That attitude is what causes more problems," Joker deadpanned, "Still, I suppose Cerberus having their own stealth systems is pretty creepy. Next you'll be telling me that they built a second Normandy and its been stalking us the whole time."
"Still, it won't be bothering us. Having a stealth drive doesn't mean they can detect stealth drives," he declared, "We'll deploy as per declared. Joker, get on that transmission. Inform the Citadel Fleet what's going on, tell them to await reinforcements. EDI, get working on ideas for luring the enemy fleet away. They can't deploy backup if Cerberus is blockading them."
"So you're just going in without a plan?" Joker asked, noting that EDI had since left, her purple pawn appearing on the pedestal on his left to address Marcus, "Sounds pretty ordinary."
"War hasn't changed our tactics one bit," the captain joked back, slapping his chair one more time before moving to walk down the flight deck, "We'll talk again soon, Joker. Once we've kicked Cerberus off the Citadel."
The pilot chuckled, "Have fun!"
But it wouldn't be fun. Cerberus was likely entrenched, had civilians as hostages and likely had C-Sec crippled. It would literally just be Marcus and his squad against an entire Cerberus ground army. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and reinforcements couldn't arrive until that fleet was dealt with. So until then, they were a single squad against the collective might of a supersoldier force.
Nothing they couldn't handle, of course.
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June 22, 2186
1229 hours.
Cockpit, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate CAW Deliverance SR-1, Cerberus Blockade In Orbit of the Citadel.
The Reaper War, The Citadel Siege.
Commander Armistan Banes, Flight Lieutenant Elena Flores.
When they said he got to be second-in-command of a ship just like the Normandy, he really didn't think the Illusive Man was being serious. But once again, he had underestimated the efficiency of their illustrious leader, and his ability to deliver on his promises. The Deliverance was nothing short of a masterpiece in vessel design, and with the technology they sported, had a real chance at beating Shepard, the Normandy and his multi-racial crew.
Armistan Banes had gotten to see the designs of the Normandy, and its sister ship was pretty much exactly the same, exterior wise and interior wise. The only real changes were minor, so really, they were virtually identical, ableit with a few improvements in the Deliverance's design to keep up with modern technology.
The cockpit remained the same, as did the general location of the airlock and flight deck. The CIC was slightly wider and the CIC was the same. The armoury was located on the right side, with the Tech Lab on the left. Their current armourer was First Lieutenant Hal McCann, and one of Cerberus' best, and most well-versed, scientific professionals, Inali Renata, worked in the Tech Lab as head of the ship's science team. Cerberus' best ship required its best people.
The Crew Deck was exactly the same; a Port and Starboard Observation deck, a crew quarters and life support, as well as an elevator connecting the decks. His quarters were located where Miranda Lawson's would have been on the same deck, and the medical bay was located opposite side, a mess hall in the middle, a sleeper pod deck cutting down the middle and a gunnery control station at the end.
The fourth deck was Engineering. Garbage Disposal on the right side, a cargo port to the left, and the main engineering area with a lower maintenance deck behind it all. On the fifth and final deck was the Shuttle Bay, where three kodiaks were situated, as well as a single Mantis gunship and a reconstructed M44 Hammerhead, rebuilt from the same specifications that had been on the Normandy.
In charge of medical was Doctor Walter Waycross, the man being pulled from his research on alien anatomy to work as the ship's doctor. He was a tad sick-minded, and given a chance, would dissect a turian or elcor and discover their inner workings. He close enough to the mad scientist stereotype that Banes would keep his eye on him.
When he wasn't in command of the ship's security detail, Major Randall Ezno was in charge of gunnery control. The soldier had been a 'manhunter' for Cerberus a few years ago and had been heavily implanted along with the standard assault trooper; he had been tasked with hunting down alien specimens for study, or simply locating and picking up wanted Cerberus targets. He had actually been the one who Liara T'Soni had given Shepard's body too, the man being ecstatic at the job, despite keeping it behind a vision of calm. The man was stoic most of the time, barely showed any emotion, and was largely a hardass; the only time he ever spoke more than four words to someone was when he was leading a squad or unit. Otherwise, he was the very opposite of talkative.
Their chief engineer was a fantastic little man named Tyrone Rawlings. He had quite the charisma; a huge heard that lined the sides of his face and covered his chin in thick, bushy hair, piercing blue eyes and skin that was dark enough to be going black, but not quite black, and not white either. He was a bit...weak. The man was not a coward by any stretch of the imagination, but if you tried to challenge him to a wrestling match or even gave him a gun, the man would squeal like a little girl. Don't let the beard deceive you; Tyrone was no brother in arms. He was no inspiring warrior. When I think about it, I'd rather them just flash clone Tali'Zorah and have her on the ship. At least then she can fight as well.
The top deck belonged solely to the Captain's Quarters, where the delightful Captain Leng lived. The overall specs were identical to that of the Normandy, or so Leng had said, having barely spoken to Banes. He couldn't claim to be a fantastic captain; the guy was an absolute cunt, about as good at leadership as a second-rate rookie and wasn't fit for the rank of captain. It was a wonder why the Illusive Man hadn't put Banes in charge; he at least had command experience. But nope. What reward do I get for my service? To be bumped down a rank and hand over my rightful command to a dickhead with a sword. Their 'captain' hadn't even bothered staying onboard to actually command his ship; he had gone down to the Citadel to take care of the Council. Which is his job in the first place. Which just confuses me; why have a man who never captains the ship, captain the ship? I don't see the logic there.
Of course, the Normandy clone would not be the same without its own AI. In this case, an AI brought back from the dead...well, from destruction.
While not actually the same, given that the real one was irretrievable, Eva was almost exactly the same as the previous one, simply lacking a body this time round, now serving as the Deliverance's version of EDI. She did not question orders, and she tended to act more like a VI at times than a truly self-aware AI, but she was incredibly efficient; her cyber warfare suites were top-notch, and she could react much faster than any crew member onboard. She was the perfect match for EDI.
The only thing they couldn't match was the crew. That was Armistan Banes' main thought as he sighed, slouching back in the command chair as he blankly looked through the main viewscreen. Elena Flores is a good pilot, but I've read Moreau's dossier; the guy is the best damn pilot in the Alliance fleet, and that's not even an exaggeration; son of a bitch has pulled so many damn maneveurs that he could probably cause most ship captains to go dizzy. Eva may be able to correct that, but the Normandy as their own AI too. So they have us beat in that department.
And then they have Shepard and his squad; what do we have? Supersoldiers? A squad of Leng's favourite phantoms? Leng's good, but against Shepard? That's what the Illusive Man didn't seem to understand. You can copy the Normandy, but you can't copy its crew.
"Anything to report?" Banes' asked for the fourth time in an hour, finding himself with very little to do. They had engaged stealth mode twelve minutes ago, and since then nothing had engaged them; not that they could, being in the middle of Terrence's entire fleet and practically hovering right over the Romulus Ward. Asking for status reports was the best he could do to pass the time.
Eva replied, her voice monotone but managing to sound attractive at the same time. That thought always made his eyes roll. The programmers must think they're being so droll when they do that. Do they get off to that shit? Maybe they did, and that thought disturbed him the most, "Nothing new is occurring. Admiral Terrence has not issued any new orders. All ships are remaining in position. No new communications from the Illusive Man. Nothing has occurred on the Citadel to warrant concern. Locating the Council has been delayed but is proceeding. Operation: Deathstroke continues along expected parameters. Nothing new to report."
He nodded, yawning into his hand as he sighed, "Thank you, Eva."
"You are welcome, Commander Banes," the AI responded, "Logging you-processing. New report. Do you wish to hear it?"
His half-lidded eyes contemplated sleep, his mind slowly caving under the peer pressure when he heard Eva's words, jolting back into energetic mode, eyes wide as he came to stand, frowning, "What is it?"
"Communications from the 63rd Infantry Battalion stationed around the Presidium 4th Precinct," Eva reported, "They have reported engagement with a hostile force and have reported heavy casualities. They are dispatching reinforcements to investigate the disturbance."
"Heavy casualities? Didn't they have an entire platoon in that area? What C-Sec force could they muster to challenge that? They're too disorganized," he pondered, hands on his hips in confusion, "Can they verify the enemy force? Any sort of identification? Any sign of affiliation? They can't be C-Sec or militia, surely."
"Wait one moment," Eva replied simply, and the cockpit was filled with silence for 30 seconds before Eva replied, "The battalion commander received reports from the platoon sergeant that they were able to identify a single asari in a labcoat, a turian with blue armor and a sniper rifle, two Alliance marines, one of them an N7, a black-hooded human female and one heavily built man in Terminus Assault Armor who appeared to be their leader. They've relayed the report and have a theory on their identity, but cannot verify."
"Give it to me Eva," Banes' deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, as he paced the deck, "Who do they think it-" suddenly, his omni-tool opened and data began to file through. His frown quickly turned into a sigh however as he turned to Eva's hologram; a blue cube, "I didn't mean literally 'give it to me,' Eva. Its a figure of speech. Just tell me the damn theory."
"I apologize for lack of understanding. I will add this to my list of objectifications and human mannerisms to understand for the future," the AI drolly replied, before speaking again, "They believe it is Captain Shepard, sir."
He widened his eyes and snorted, shaking his head as he turned to face the AI fully, "I think we'd know if the Normandy turned up...on our...doorstep..." Unless their stealth drive is active, which in other words means they could be sitting right ontop of us and we won't even know. Hell, they could be calling for reinforcements at this very moment! Shit! And if Shepard is on the Citadel...this could complicate and delay the operation!
"That theory makes sense," Flores spoke up from the pilot's chair, her shoulder length red hair shuffling as she turned to him, "The asari would then match T'Soni, the turian being Vakarian, the N7 would be Keeling, the marine Vega, the black-hooded girl would possibly be Goto. With this in mind, I think its obvious what we're dealing with here."
"Sound the General's Quarters," Banes ordered, dropping into his seat, "Eva, alert Fleet Admiral Terrence of what's happened! I think we're about to have the Citadel Fleet and then some descending upon us; best be ready," he growled, turning to the viewscreen and then realizing something. They're out there somewhere...and they won't know we're here...it would be like a game of cat and mouse, but this time, it was mouse and mouse, both looking for each other.
He turned to Flores, "Pilot, coordinate with Eva and find me the Normandy. I think its time we played our hand and showed them they aren't kingpin anymore."
She widened her eyes, turning to the commander, "But sir, the captain ordered us to stay put. Said he'd need us for extraction."
If that fuckwit wants to treat this ship as a dropship, then we might as well let Shepard have him. But I'm not letting this vessel's abilities go to waste just so that moron can have the assurance of a get-away car. "I'm sure Captain Leng wouldn't mind if we paid the enemy a visit. Finally show them that they aren't as untouchable as they may think. Keep the stealth drive active and see if we can find them, let's move it, people."
And so the game was on.
It was only a matter of who would win.
This thought rang through Banes' head even as the Deliverance's weapons roared to life, proppelling the ship forward to meet with the enemy.
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June 22, 2186
1232 hours.
Personnel Parking Lot, 4th Presidium Precinct, Presidium, The Citadel.
The Reaper War, The Citadel Siege.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling, Soldier Javik, EDI, Master Thief Kasumi Goto.
"Wrong answer."
The back of the assault trooper's head slammed back into the ground again, helmet rattling as Marcus held him firm with gritted teeth, practically hissing through them as he stared through the emotionless slit of his own helmet at the man, Garrus looming over him while the rest of his squad covered the exits around them. They stood on the edge of the landing platform; a 120 foot drop laying below them.
"I won't ask again," he snarled, the soldier's synthetic groaning barely heard, "Why is Cerberus here? What the hell does the Illusive Man have to gain from this and where is Kai Leng?"
"Fuck...you..." the soldier groaned, "You'll just have...to...kill me..."
The spectre standing over him let go of his head as he loomed, the light blocked by his helme, a bitter laugh leaving his lips that even drew Garrus' attention. The man looked back down at him, cocking his head as if curious about the pitiful creature below him. In an instant, he drew his claymore and took aim, "Kill you? Who said anything about killing you? No, I think you misheard," his finger began to squeeze the trigger, "I didn't say I'd kill you if you didn't answer my questions, I said I'd make you wish for death."
His weapon coughed, the shotgun roaring as the high velocity shell totally razed the assault trooper's kneecap, a great explosion of red blood, shredded armor and pale-white bone fragmenting the area around the sight, and causing the trooper to scream. Not done yet, he turned to the other leg and fired again, blasting off his other leg. He repeated this with the man's arms, and when all was done, he was swimming in his own makeshift, bloody dam.
And instead of finishing him off, Marcus quickly holstered his weapon, motioning for his squad to follow him to the opposite end of the bay, leaving the dead trooper to bleed out. They froze for a moment at the cold treatment of the dead soldier (except Javik and EDI), but quickly moved to follow, but not before shooting a hesitant glance at the squirming soldier, unable to pass out due to the anti-pain stimulators running through his body, letting his blood just pour from his body on the ground in a never ending stream until he would eventually bleed out.
The entire parking lot had been a battlefield. As soon as Cortez had gotten them within view they had seen Bailey's men tackling with a Cerberus platoon attempting to push them back. By the time they were able to assist, most of the C-Sec men were dead, with only Bailey himself, who looked to be sitting and leaning against a wall, a single turian and four humans. Cerberus however had gotten a complete razing when Marcus' squad arrived.
Down they had gone, one by one, methodically and precisely, a just wrath being brought upon their transgression. Now, as the battle had ended, they walked past their corpses on the way to Bailey; two headless guardians, blood crusting on their shields and chestplate, legless, armless and shredded assault troopers, scorched centurions and reaved dragoons. In the span of a couple of minutes, Shepard's squad had completely lay waste to the enemy force, whereas Bailey's men were losing and had barely made a dent. Still, we won't be enough to take out the whole invasion force. That's what the backup is for. And even if we could, the fleet up there? If Cerberus can't have it, neither can we; they'll just bomb the station from orbit.
The sirens still rang throughout the station, loud and persistent, still warning people to get to safety. Even as they walked past, they saw an Avina terminal pop up, the asari-based Citadel VI speaking in its dull, monotone voice filled with information, "Civil unrest is reported within the Presidium and Shalta Ward. Attacks reported in Kikowani and Romulus Wards. For your own safety, please remain in your homes. This is not a drill. A state of emergency has been declared."
The squad ignored Avina as they moved up the steps to meet the wounded C-Sec party, Liara immediately moving over to offer some medi-gel to the injured turian, who looked to be trying to cover a hole in his side. While his squad was tending them, Marcus approached Bailey, who simply looked up at him, shifting as he cradled his leg, smiling slightly.
"You going to be alright Bailey?" he asked, shifting in his armor to crouch as comfortably as possible next to the man, "Do you need medical attention?"
The man snorted, shrugging as he did, "Its not as bad as it may look. Bastards got me in the back of the leg, but aside from that, I'm sunshine. But its about time some cavalry got here. We were getting our asses kicked until you showed up."
"What about the Council?" he asked, "Are they still alive? Where are they?"
Bailey groaned, motioning for a help up. The man did as requested, standing up and grabbing the man's hand as he pulled him to his feet. The commander managed to stand, but not without a bad limp on one side, groaning as he did from the pain. But he fought through it, like any soldier would, and responded in as collected a voice as possible, "If they followed Emergency Code Ten, then they'll be safe in the siege bunker by now. But with Cerberus all over the place...this was well planned, Shepard. They knew just where to hit us, when and how. They couldn't have known this without help from the inside...traitors."
"Or sleeper agents," Marcus added, nodding as he sighed, taking a look over the bloodied car park. Bailey was right; you simply couldn't pull off something like this without so major planning and manpower. The Citadel, for all intents and purposes, had been sold out, "But it isn't betrayal when they were never loyal to you to begin with. And we certainly can't allow them to continue this assault," he nodded to his squad motioning over to him, "We're going to try and continue towards C-Sec Headquarters. See if we can liberate it."
Bailey groaned, leaning his back against the wall behind him as he cradled his leg, applying medi-gel to it, "Please tell me you brought more than just this squad. I know you're a hero Shepard, but you're no miracle worker. Cleaning this station is going to take alot more than just your squad."
You know nothing, Bailey. I'm no hero. "Don't worry, already been through that. My pilot has likely alerted the Citadel Fleet by this point, and has sent a message straight to UGC Headquarters; we can expect a fleet quite soon. Everyone knows we can't let the Citadel fall. But our worry now should be the Council and reestablishing communications. First things first, we need to retake C-Sec HQ with what we have. You know how we can do that?"
"Well, I'll give you the obvious and say its no easy job. The HQ building was one of the first places they attacked during the siege," Bailey pointed out, "Cerberus has got an entire battalion between us and that place. Saying it won't be a walk in the park is an understatement; little shits probably have snipers covering every entrance, and those damn Atlases will tear apart any skycar or shuttle we send, meaning we're limited to foot movement."
"My squad can handle whatever Cerberus throws at us. Do we know if Kai Leng is here?" he hurried asked, wanting to get to the point, calming himself down as he felt his breathing quicken. Get ahold of yourself. Securing C-Sec HQ and the Council is your top priority; worry about killing Leng later.
The man frowned, clearly confused, "I don't know who Leng is, but he must be someone I'm not going to like, if your face is any indication."
"Just a man who's long outlived his welcome," the spectre growled, shaking his head as he recollected his thoughts, burning down his hatred and tunnelling it into adrenaline and energy he could use, "But forget about that," he turned to his men, waving a hand at his men, "Will you and your officers be okay here?"
Bailey nodded, "Sure. We'll just go inside, seal the door, set up a choke point and take down anyone who tries to take us out. What will you do?"
Garrus' chuckle was his answer, the both of them turning to look at the turian who had his arms crossed, grinning, "Cut through their defenses and reclaim the headquarters building. Kick Cerberus out. Hopefully kill their commander along the way. We're above this sort've thing now."
"Fantastic," Bailey deadpanned, moving towards the door, motioning for his men to follow, with Marcus and his own not far behind, "I'm just glad you're here. Don't know what would've happened had you been a few hours late."
"It'll take awhile for Cerberus to fully take control of this station," Keeling observed, all of them moving through the door into what looked to be a reception area, a small desk situated in the middle with its terminal deactivated and the lettering 'Citadel Security' covering the wall behind it, "There's too much ground to cover for this to take a day. A week, at best, even with the force they have."
"They have a full corps at their disposal, lady," the turian named Rainus replied, moving slightly slower than the rest due to his chest wound, "Give them credit where its due. Four days, tops. Possibly three, if their fleet does any work."
A corps? Just where is the Illusive Man getting all his men from? Rejects from the Reaper concentration camps? Or does he kidnap people or abduct Alliance soldiers and force feed them implants? Just the sheer size of Cerberus' resources and sudden vastness of their military was starting to boggle Marcus' mind. Where was it all coming from?
It all lead to the same answer: The Reapers. But then Noveria contradicted that. Harbinger wouldn't attack his own agents. Unless...
...Marcus' thoughts were totally derailed when he saw the mixture of red and blue dried blood smears across the floor, bullet holes potmarking the walls around them and a small flame crackling from a burst circuit on the wall. Two lights on either side flickered occassionally, and when he followed the blood smears, he found them lead to that of two dead C-Sec officers, both wearing normal uniform, entry wounds from Talon pistols deadon through their foreheads. And from the look of the wound, the shot had happened from behind. They weren't gunned down. They were executed. Their lack of weapons and armor only completed this theory.
Commander Bailey quickly dragged himself around the desk, plopping himself down in the discarded chair as he powered up the terminal. Immediately, a password prompt appeared with the C-Sec insignia above it, and the officer immediately typed it in, Marcus watching as he rounded the desk as it signed in, opening the files within.
"Damn, the network's a mess," he groaned, slamming his hand on the unresponsive console, "Can't get a connection with anything. Cerberus must have control of the station's communications."
"Of course they do; first rule of taking control of a populated space station? Making sure it can't communicate," Liara stated, holstering her SMG as she helped one officer nurse his wounds, "Cerberus will have full control over all of it. Every single pivotal and crucial feature, its under their control. Communications, the docks, the Council Chambers, rapid transit, evacuation centers, everything. The whole lot. Cerberus is nothing, if not methodical and meticulous."
"You're telling me," Bailey growled, turning the terminal off as he failed to glean anything from it, "Well I'm sorry Shepard, but with the network down, I can't do squat. I'd switch to basic radioes, but these alien folk...they're all about the technology."
Marcus grinned, reaching into one of his pockets as he retrieved a 2010's style radio, tossing it to the man who deftly caught it, smiling at it, "See if you can patch into any channels through that. Maybe someone was smart and actually ignored regulations."
"What the hell are you doing with this?" Bailey asked, frowning at him, despite how grateful he was, "What does an N7 need with this?"
"They're standard issue, all marines come equipped with radios incase our hardsuit comms go down," Keeling replied, "The Alliance military is a resourceful bunch."
"And the turian military never thought of this?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow at Garrus.
The turian held his hands up in defense, "Hey! We've never needed them before."
Marcus wasn't buying it, "If its primitive, it ain't useful, is what you mean to say. Funny how old tech can be useful afterall," he nodded to Bailey, "Just make sure you get some use out of it. Keeling and James have their own, so if you ever need to contact me, just patch into Channel 117 November, and we should pick up. But we'd better get moving if we want to take C-Sec HQ back," he was about to walk out, letting his shotgun pop from his hands and slide into his hands, when he turned back, "Your sure you'll be okay? You're all set up here?"
Bailey turned to face him, tapping something on his hip. Marcus saw, for the first time, a modified predator pistol with incendiary ammo strapped to his hip, and he also watched as the man grabbed a rifle from his back and feeded it onto his lap, the weapon looking like an avenger, but with a grey finish, and looking much more bulky. Marcus would recognize it from anywhere; an M-7 Lancer, a weapon that dated as far back as 2177. Even in this day and age, it was better than its successors, the M-8 Avenger and M-9 Usurper. To see a C-Sec officer with such a weapon was quite the surprise, given that many Alliance marines wouldn't see a Lancer in their lifetime.
"I'll tear Cerberus a new one if they try to come through that door," Bailey rasped, shouldering the weapon as he turned back to the desk, preparing to issue orders to his team, "You just worry about taking care of headquarters. We need to take it back."
He nodded, shouldering his claymore as his squad prepped to follow him, "Hold on tight, Bailey. This nightmare is going to be over soon."
"Over soon?" the man asked, chuckling bitterly, "Nope, this is merely a snapshot of the nightmare. Many more snapshots to go."
Marcus knew what he meant, and made no response. He merely turned and left, carefully stepping past the executed officers and making his way down the bloody corridor towards what looked to be an exit, his squad close behind him and ready for combat.
{Loading...}
June 22, 2186
1240 hours.
Reception Area, Huerta Memorial Hospital, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War, The Citadel Siege.
Nurse Lia'Vael nar Ulnay, C-Sec Investigator Kolyat Krios.
Every nerve in her body shook with fear, with anxiety, with stress. Her bones rattled in response to the gunfire all around her, the constant muzzle flashing of Kolyat's SMG firing next to her clouding her vision like a haze. She steadied her breathing on a constant basis, but it would always build up again, a persistent bug that was wanting to stay where it was, rooted to the spot, just like her.
She cradled her Tempest SMG in her hands, crouched safely behind the overturned table she was using for cover, flinching almost every single time a shot pinged off the heavy metal. She had attempted to fire a few shots, but her hands had shook, and most of the shots had glanced over the enemy, who simply returned fire and she had to narrowly dodge their shots, the quarian lacking any form of kinetic shielding. A single shot could mean fatal death.
All around them C-Sec troopers were gathered, all in similiar positions; crouched behind flipped tables, pouring tremendous amounts of fire into the doorway in an attempt to keep Cerberus back. It was odd to Lia; the one time she had seen combat or warfare, she had been serving with Commander Shepard, who at the time had been an ally to Cerberus. And now here she was, expected to fight and kill those ex-allies. At least it isn't Reapers.
She hated herself for her inaction, because she knew now that Kolyat was left to man their side of the barricade, putting all the work load onto her drell boyfriend. She growled, trying to will herself to stand, but no matter what she did, her legs were unreponsive.
She was afraid. Afraid of dying, and afraid of taking life of any form. It...was unfathomable. Beyond her ability. Her comprehension.
She attempted to raise her weapon, but it suddenly felt heavy in her hands, like she was trying to pull up a concrete slab that had been cemented to the ground. Her teeth chattered, and she almost wanted to cry, but she would not allow herself to do that; she was a fully grown woman, and she had served on the Normandy itself; she would not show sorrow or fear. She couldn't. She had to get her act together or...
...Kolyat could die.
The man in question did not give her mind enough time to use that as motivation as he was suddenly crouched at her side, his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it, "Lia, look at me."
She looked at him, SMG finally slipping from her hands to fall to the ground, hitting with a barely audible clang, the firefight around them blocking it out. She felt her eyes water, but refused to let the tears flow, refused to sob like a little girl. A fully grown woman, she was, "Kolyat...w-what is i-it?"
"You're shaking," he noted, sympathy in his eyes as the fire from them doused alittle, "Look, I know you've...never killed before, but I hadn't either before this. I just need you-"
"I've killed before, Kolyat. Keelah, I served on the Normandy!" she growled, more to herself than him, "So I can't understand why I can't just pickup that weapon and help you protect the hospital!"
The drell held a hand for her to stop, pulling a grenade from his vest, one he had retrieved from a dead C-Sec officer, primed it and tossed it over the table, bringing his head down as it exploded, the cries of numerous assault troopers heard as they were shorn to bits. He turned back to her, gripping both her shoulders and turning her towards him, "Because you've been away from combat too long. That...or you're not made for it."
A gunshot pinged off the table, followed by another. Kolyat turned from her in that moment as he brought up his omni-blade just as the centurion in question crested the table, bringing his heavy rifle to bear. Instead, his helmet caved in as six inches of molten hot energy blade sliced through the metal, melted it and slammed into the man's face. The soldier went limp in an instant, red blood spitting from his helmet in a thick stream and onto Kolyat as the drell pulled back, omni-blade dissipating as he knelt back beside her.
She only looked at him, her shaking intensifying. She watched in horrendous detail as red droplets dripped down his face and chest, crimson life taken from one who once possessed it. It was a sign of death, a sign of one's life taken. She felt some drip down her visor, blood having spurted onto her veil, and in that moment, she just wanted to scream. Let this nightmare end...please let it end...please...
"Look," he quickly picked up, slamming a fresh thermal clip into his SMG and slotting the chamber, "I'm not going to make you fight, Lia. I know you're scared; that's it, isn't it? You're scared and a killer isn't who you are. I understand that. But if you're not going to fight, you can at least help. Give me some tips; you've worked on humans. What part of the body hurts the most when I shoot it?"
She giggled at that, blushing slightly, "Well...I know one universal weakness we all have is...uh...well...between our legs."
"Not quite what I meant, Lia, but thanks," he grinned back, further deepening her blush, "I meant...where do I shoot to land a killer blow? I can't keep scoring headshots."
"The heart. Lungs. The thighs," she ticked off verbally, "There's also the belly. They bleed out faster when hit there."
"See?" he added, "You can be useful, Lia. You're not useless. My biological girl," he moved in and planted a kiss on her visor, stroking her cheek as he pulled away, placing his forehead against her mask, "Now just stay down and-"
"Kill the quarian!" came a shouted order, and Kolyat looked over her shoulder in panic as she too turned to see who had yelled it, panic seizing in her chest.
She hadn't even noticed herself snatch up her SMG and spin around, raising it as she did. Her first burst went wide, followed by her second, but her third split the man's nose in half, the back of the dragoon's head blasting open as the SMG round penetrated all the way in. His biotics dimmed and then died as he slumped, limp head slamming against the barricade before sliding fully onto his back, blood leaking from the entry wound and onto the sterile floor.
Her barrel smoking, Lia lowered her weapon, and realized she wasn't shaking anymore. She was still afraid, but killing...seemed less painful. Like she was used to it all of a sudden. It was then she reached a realization, turning to face a wide-eyed Kolyat.
"No," she began, gulping, "We're all perfectly able to kill, Kolyat. Only some of us have the audacity to become experts at it, and others...become used to it."
He sighed, looking at her for a moment. When he had finished, he reached a green hand into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular object, offering it to her with an open palm, "Its a kinetic barrier generator. Just strap it to your hip and prime it, and you'll be good to go. Just...please be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."
She nodded, taking the generator without hesitation and placing it in one of her hip pockets, priming it as it slid inside. It was a perfect fit, and she had to smile when she looked back up, tapping her visor against his forehead, "I will be, yol'tiya. But I'll be better with you here."
He smiled back, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, "Then let's go kick Cerberus from this station."
She returned his smile, and together, they stood back up, weapons raising as they did. A fresh wave of assault troopers backed by two combat engineers was pouring through, and she knew enough about tactics to know the engineers were the bigger threat. She steadied her hand and took aim at the nearest engineer, holding down the trigger as she watched burst after burst slam into shields. After the fifth burst however, she watched the sixth slam into armor and pierce flesh, a flash of crimson spilling from the man's opened gut, the man crying out as he aimed at Lia, his phalanx's blue laser dot hitting her mask.
She fired again, the shot piercing his hand and taking two fingers with it, pistol slipping from his hands and the shot flying wide, penetrating about two inches into the far wall. The engineer cradled his maimed hand, only for someone off to the side to finish him off, his head snapping to the left as a rifle shot pierced his cheek and exited through his right earlobe, chunks of his ear and gums coating the floor as he collapsed, dead.
She moved to deal with the second, but saw that Kolyat had dealt with that, and half the assault troopers. She shrugged, taking aim at another trooper and firing, first burst going wide from her intended vector, but not missing; instead, it hit the man's elbow, the force snapping it backwards as it snapped with an echoing crack. The trooper screamed, only to for Lia to take aim at his head and...send a shot straight through upper lip. He slumped forward, dead.
She crouched behind cover as a sudden horde of fire slammed into her shields, the quarian taking sometime to reload. I'm getting good at this. They'll make a soldier out of me yet. That thought didn't exactly please her, however. Not as much as she thought it would, at least.
She yelped suddenly as she felt something roughly grab her ankle, squeezing painfully. She looked below to see a centurion, entire body from the waist down missing, grabbing onto her ankle, helmet off and glowing husk eyes glaring at her with malicious intent. Behind it was a thick river of blood; it must have dragged itself over here. No human could do that. But when she saw what that thing looked like...that isn't human! It hasn't been for awhile...
That's a husk.
She yelped again as it yanked at said ankle, trying to bring her down close enough for it to pummel her face. Instead, the ankle lashed forward in panic, kicking him in the face. She heard its nose break, but still it was persistent, its grip not loosening as it continued to pull, its immense strength overwhelming her own. She lashed out again, and again, never stopping. But it refused to let go.
"LET GO OF HER!" came Kolyat's snarl, and suddenly the centurion was off of her, tossed aside and a nice hole placed straight inbetween it eyes, red blood pooling across its pale cheeks.
She quickly crawled back behind the table, glancing at Kolyat as he put another round into the man's head just to be sure he was dead. He quickly entered a crouch and took the dead centurion's mattock, still strapped to his back and rolled over to her position, nodding at her, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Thanks," Lia replied curtly, nodding with reassurance, "At least, I will be," another shot pinged off the table, and she sighed.
"Assholes are making another push! Get ready!" one of the officers shouted over the radio, "Krios, Tamara, switch positions! Kolyat, we need SMG support over here, now! Cerberus are bringing in phantoms! We need you to suppress them with your SMG!"
Kolyat turned to her with a sad look but nodded, returning the comm signal, "Copy that. Switching," he turned to Lia and quickly brought her in for a hug, "Be careful, okay? I'll just be across from you."
"You too," she whispered back in his ear, not wanting him to go, but knowing they needed the drell's help and tried her best not to let her longing come out in her voice, "I can't lose you, not to Cerberus. Not to those bosh'tets."
He smiled grimly at her, cradling her head between his neck and shoulders, "You won't. When this is done, we'll both be alive and well, I promise." With that, he reluctantly pulled away, their gazes lingering on each other before Kolyat disappeared around the corner. At that exact moment, an asari female dressed in form-fitting ballistics came to her side, nodding politely as he pulled out her rifle, getting ready to repulse the next wave. Next to her, Lia prepared herself, bracing her SMG ontop of the wall.
"This is Tamara," the asari reported, "In position and ready, over."
"Copy that," the officer in command replied, "Remember people, keep your sights on the enemy and never take them off! Kill every last one of the-here they come! Open fire! Don't let them through that door!"
Tamara and Lia pretty much opened fire, both of them in sync. It wasn't long before the whole room joined in, and the hospital was once again filled with the sound of violence, death and war. Cerberus had brought it all to the Citadel's doorstep, with the intent of taking the space station from them and killing any aliens that stood in their way.
But they wouldn't get it without a fight. And Lia would fight. Not for the Citadel. But for herself. And Kolyat.
For them.
{Loading...}
June 22, 2186
1237 hours.
Docking Bay D24 Refugee Center, Shalta Docks, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War, The Citadel Siege.
Conrad Verner.
He had tried to be brave. Conrad Verner, a wuss and all-round idiot, tried to have courage. He had tried to live a normal life, to have friends, to work hard like every ordinary person did. He really tried. But when he met Commander Shepard three years ago on the Citadel, any specific want he had for an ordinary life had flown out the window to never be seen again; ever since then, he had wanted to be something bigger. More meaningful. He had grown obsessed with the man named Shepard; Lion of Elysium, Butcher of Torfan, Survivor of Akuze, Hero of the Citadel, Destroyer of the Collectors, Geth Slayer, and right about now, the last hope for the galaxy. The Bane of the Reapers. The man was a god in his own right; an idol to stand behind and worship, the ultimate soldier; a superhero, if he were to exaggerate. He had even tried to become a spectre, just like Shepard, long ago, but the very same man had talked him out of it.
After he heard about the man's death, he had mourned for the man, despite not knowing him very well; the galaxy had lost much by his loss. But then Conrad had taken to a new lifestyle; he decided he was going to uphold Shepard's mantle. To take off where he left off. He had decided to become Shepard, and in the end, he even started calling himself Shepard. And for two years, it worked. He took down a syndicate (well, the police did), fought off a mercenary platoon (after getting beaten and accidentally shooting a gas container full of Minagen X3) and took out a known crime boss (by accidentally running over him with a skycar). He had believed he was Shepard, all until he met the man's girlfriend, and he realized that Shepard was alive. It was only after almost getting killed by corrupt Illium police that he realized just how pathetic he was, and he dropped his facade and returned to his wife.
But even she had left him. When he got home, the woman had packed up and left, leaving a note to say that she was fed up with his obsession and had gone to leave with her uncle in Wisconsin back on Earth. Now...now she was likely dead. But during that day, he had been crushed by it. He had wept for a full two days, and left Earth on the third, going to live on the Citadel permanently. But his obsession with Shepard once again built in full strength and when he realized the man had worked for Cerberus, he suddenly had the bright idea that working for Cerberus was a good idea. So he signed up.
Then the Reapers invaded six months later, laying waste to Khar'Shan and Earth. It was then, in this very camp, that he met Shepard again, during one of his speeches promoting Cerberus. And when Shepard told him that he didn't work for Cerberus anymore, and that even then he only worked with them, Conrad once again felt like a total fool. It was only when Shepard told him he could help with the camp that he felt useful again. And so he had done just that; he didn't pick up a gun and go to fight Reapers, he didn't try to blow Cerberus up, and he definitely didn't try to join the spectres; he settled down and helped as best he could.
It was now that Conrad realized he never had any backbone. He wasn't brave, or courageous, and he was nothing like Shepard.
He was just another civilian, cowering behind a crate as people screamed and tried to flee around him, gunfire filling the camp and shouts reverbrating off the walls.
They had come out of nowhere; shuttles deployed them through the windows, gunships backing them and chewing up every C-Sec trooper they could find with their chain guns before their troops dragged their corpses away, other officers simply surrendering and dropping their weapons. In moments, the place was surrounded by enemy soldiers, all clad in gold and white armor.
Conrad thought he was going to die. After his talk with Shepard, he had cut all ties with Cerberus and gone underground, thinking they couldn't hurt him on the Citadel. He hadn't even bothered to change his identity. And if Cerberus found him...despite his attempted bravery, he could easily smell and feel his urine soaking his pants as he wet himself, rough and ragged sobs escaping his lips as he tried to compose himself, but failed at every turn.
Suddenly, the gunfire was lessening, but the voices grew until one stood out, "Enough! Stay where you are, do not move! On the ground! Everyone on the fucking ground! Don't try to run or we'll kill you! Don't fucking move!"
Conrad froze and took a peek over the crate he was hiding behind to see people dropping to the floor, not from gunshot hits but due to the orders shouted at them, the odd sob rattling through the room. Some cradled their heads in fear, others showed none, and some hugged close to their wives, husbands and children, a group hug that showed protectiveness and an attempt to defend their family from the enemy invaders. He even saw one human cradling his asari bondmate, both of them crying as they lay there, absolutely terrified.
He saw one turian stand to his feet, defiant. A voice shouted at him and a centurion appeared, bulky armor grating with every move, "I said on the fucking ground, you turian pig, or I'll gut you where you stand." The man's cybernetically enhanced voice did not make his words any less intimidating; more so, actually.
The turian remained standing, glaring at him, "I'd rather die on my feet than kneel before you, scum," he spat the centurion's feet, "You should be helping us, instead you spread your pro-human ignorance. Spirits punish you, human."
The centurion didn't reply verbally, simply raising his mattock, taking aim and firing, the family nearby screaming as blue blood splattered across their bodies and the turian fell ontop of them, the human tossing him aside in fear of being targetted.
"Anyone else?" the centurion growled, raising his mattock and leaning it against his shoulder as he faced the entire camp, "Does anyone else have anything to say? No? Good," he motioned a dragoon to approach him, and issued orders, "Clear these cubicles; everyone who's in them, bring them in here and line them up. Segregate the humans and the aliens. File them."
Categorization? Lining up? Segregate humans from aliens? The historical comparison was all too familiar. Its the Third Reich and the Nazis all over again...
Suddenly, another centurion appeared, a squad of assault troopers moving in to grab at people and begin pulling them outside, "Come on! Out! All of you, out, out, out! Line up! Get the fuck out here, now! Any of you resist and we'll shoot you!"
Conrad almost resisted as an assault trooper grabbed his arm and hefted him to his feet, but decided against it; he was one measly civilian against a squad of cybernetically augmented supersoldiers. He was nothing compared to them, so he just let the man push him along and out into the open area, head hung low as he heard more shouting.
Then the screaming began.
"No!" one man shouted, "No! Kaeli! No!"
Conrad turned as he watched the asari/human couple from before, watching as a combat engineer scooped up the asari around the waist and pulled her from the human's arms, who screamed and thrashed as one phantom held him down, tears streaming from her eyes, "Let her go! Take me instead! Please! Kaeli!"
"Stop...struggling, bitch!" the dragoon snarled, but the asari refused, continuing to scream and jerk, tears streaming down her cheeks as he pulled her away. The dragoon simply laughed as he passed her on three assault troopers, one of them looking the asari up and down with what Conrad could imagine was a sadistic grin.
"I'll have abit of fun with this one," the trooper stated, pointing to the still thrashing human, "Make him watch. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson in what happens when you side these...alien scum."
"Sounds like a plan," came the response, the sound of armor being unlatched as Conrad simply watched them bend the asari over, the poor girl looking about to scream, "Heh heh. Come on boys, line up!"
Conrad tore his eyes away from the ensuing rape, the cries of the asari's lover echoing throughout the bay as Verner was pushed along and away.
He watched as one man was pulled away from his turian wife and children, one centurion scooping up one child while a combat engineer scooped up another, the wife thrown to the ground as she tried to rescue her children, only to be stabbed to death by two phantoms, the both of them cursing profanities as they impaled her beaten corpse a dozen times.
All over, the bay was filled with screams as families were torn apart from each other and humans and aliens were segregated.
Eventually, Verner found himself shoved to his knees next to a fairly attractive human woman and a human C-Sec officer still wearing his armor, but without his weapons. He grunted, the woman turning to him with a worried frown. It was then that he recognized her, eyes widening, but unable to speak from fear.
"Conrad?" Lizbeth spoke, flipping her head back to get rid of a particular curl in her face, "I'm so glad you're alright! Have you seen my mum?"
"I'm over here, sweetie," came Juliana's voice from the other end, "Everything will be alright."
"You'd better hope so," came the voice of an assault trooper behind them, one moving along the line and inspecting them with his vindicator while the trooper behind them spoke, "If we find out any of you are related to aliens in anyway, you'll be purged."
Conrad gulped, sweat collecting on his brow as he looked at the ground. I hope talking with Shepard's quarian girlfriend doesn't constitute as being related to aliens...
"So how about it...Lieutenant Ghost?" the trooper asked, Conrad realizing he was second in line and the C-Sec officer next to him was first. The man looked absolutely terrified, but when he heard the name Ghost, he immediately recognized this man as Samuel Ghost; a man who had been keen in harassing him alot lately.
The man looked up with a twitch in his eye, "How about what...uh...sir?" The man looked very twitchy, and he could see sweat collecting on his brow. He was hiding something.
The trooper knelt down next to him, bringing his emotionless mask into his face, "Let me reiterate. If I search you, will I find anything so much as related to aliens? Nothing at all?"
The sound of the asari being raped could be clearly heard behind them, laughter mixing in with the horrific screams. Conrad shut his eyes, trying to drown out the noise, but failing as it invaded every corner of his mind.
"No..." Ghost gulped, "N-no-nothing...a-at all!"
"Then you have nothing to worry about," the trooper then stood up, steadying the rifle across his chest as he turned to someone behind them, "Search him. Every inch of every part. I don't care if you have to search his genitals; anything remotely alien on him, and I want to know about it."
In a flash the nemesis knelt down and began to pat down the man, inch by inch, and the closer she got to his chest, the more the man seemed to get jerky.
Then, at the peak of her search, something popped out from the man's pocket and fluttered to the ground. A photograph. It landed face down on the ground, and he swore he saw Ghost's face go pale when his eyes landed on it. Oh no...
"What do we have here?" the trooper asked, kneeling down as he gripped the photo and picked it up, turning it over so he could look at it. Suddenly, the trooper looked at Ghost, photo falling from his hand to hit the ground, gripping his rifle, "You've lied to me, Ghost. That hurts me very deeply."
It was as if a volcano had exploded, "Please! It doesn't mean anything! She's just...just...some...uh..whore! Yeah, a fucking prostititute! It didn't m-mean anything! Please! She means nothing to me! Take me to her and I'll kill her my-"
"But Ghost," the trooper reiterated, looking down at him with a pitiless gaze, "You lied to me. That hurts me very much. And you know what we do to liars at Cerberus?" he turned to the nemesis and gave a curt nod, "We don't tolerate them, that's for sure."
"No, wai-" His words were followed by an abrupt bang.
Conrad's ears rang as all sound was drowned out, Conrad turning to see the biggest pile of blood he had ever seen pooling across the ground, chunks of brain matter and viscera intermixed with the crimson liquid. A gory pulp lay in the middle of the soaking pool, Ghost's body having slumped forward from the blast.
He heard Lizbeth scream beside him, which broke through the ringing and when sound returned, he realized the asari being raped had gone quiet. As he looked up, he saw her being dragged along the floor, unconscious and her pants still hanging at her ankles, dried tears on her cheeks and semen dripping down her thighs. He took his eyes away, watching as her bondmate, now suddenly quiet and impassive, was dumped unceremoniously at the end of the line.
Ghost's body was left where it was killed, the assault trooper coming to kneel infront of him, clicking his fingers to gain his attention. Conrad looked up at him, and the soldier nodded,"I'll ask again; any relations with aliens?"
He shook his head in answer, and the trooper nodded, and he felt the nemesis begin to pat him down. As she did this, his eyes drifted and widened in horror as he watched a whole line of aliens, ranging from turian to asari, batarian to salarian, lined up against a wall, hands on their heads and on their knees, facing said wall. Five assault troopers lined up behind them, took aim with their rifles, and in a swift motion, executed everyone there in cold blood.
"He's clean," the nemesis stated, her feminine voice intermixed with cybernetics giving a whiny pitch, almost ear-splitting. The trooper nodded and motioned for a centurion to pick up, "Lucky you, you get to live today. Next."
He felt a firm hand lock onto his shoulder and he met Lizbeth's eyes, seeing the fright in them. She was scared, just like he was, and he saw it in that one moment as he was hefted away, watching the interrogator grab her face and twist her to face him as he spoke to her. Meanwhile, he found himself dragged away and forced to his knees in one of the first cubicles where a few humans already stood and, to his immense surprise, a few turians and salarians.
They're letting some aliens live? Conrad frowned. This was a strange turn for the organization. Why?
He noticed a few batarians as well, a particularly angry looking one seeming to be their leader, if how he spoke to the men around him was any indication. When he noticed Conrad's lingering gaze, he turned, growling behind gritted teeth. Batarians and humans shared no love for each other, that much was known, "What are you looking at, human?"
"N-nothing," he gasped back, recognizing the batarian from his voice. Everyone who had heard about the Terra Nova event knew him. Balak Uhtero; current leader of the remainder of the batarian species. A man Shepard notoriously despised. He turned away from him, looking around the room as he examined its occupants.
He turned to see two dragoons standing guard, carrying two M-9 Usurpers; a light weapon, considering they were mainly biotics. Still, they were sufficient to keep them inside, and enough to make sure noone attempted to escape.
Suddenly, a three-taloned hand grabbed him by the shoulder and he found himself roughly swerved around to face a turian with pure cobalt blue facepaint, eyes scanning him in an instant. He wore a single plain T-shirt, didn't look particularly bulky, and his mandibles seemed to twitch in light disappointment as he examined him, "Conrad Verner?"
He gulped, nodding, "Ah...yes. That's...that's m-"
The turian gave him no time to properly respond as the hand on his arm tightened, beginning to forcefully move him to the back of the room at a hurried pace, the turian looking behind them to make Cerberus didn't see them. Within moments, they were in the back of the cubicle, inside a small, repurposed shipping container.
Upon entering, he saw two othe turians wearing facemasks with skulls painted on the front, two batarians and four salarians, all of them wearing the painted skulls, like it was somekind of organization. Satisfied that they weren't being followed, the turian shoved him inside, coming to sit beside one of his turian compatriots.
"Who the fuck is this?" the batarian growled, "I'm not sitting here with no-"
"Shut your mouth Karak," one turian snarled, "You'll do as your told. We're not in the slave camps anymore."
Karak snorted, crossing his arms, "This is poposterous. This...human..."
"Has more decency than you. At least I hope he does," one salarian mused, eying Conrad up and down. Satisfied, he nodded, turning to Karak, "Nah, doesn't look like a slaver to me. He definitely has more decency."
Karak came to stand, eyes flaring, "I'm going to talk with Balak. I'm not going to-"
"Shut the fuck up and sit down, Karak," growled his batarian counterpart, "You're giving me a headache."
Karak turned to the batarian, anger flaring his features, "But brother, I-"
"I said shut up," he growled in response, cutting him off, "Cease your whimpering."
That seemed to finally shut Karak up, the man sitting down with reluctance and irritation in his features, looking like a wounded animal. He crossed his arms, glaring daggers at Conrad as he sat on the only unoccupied crate in the room.
The turian on his left looked him over, not looking particularly impressed, "So, Lantar, you going to tell us who this guy is? He doesn't look like he's got much meat on him, so I doubt you're going to hire him."
The turian in blue facepaint identified as Lantar shook his head, crossing his own arms as he seemed to do his own examination of Conrad. When he was finished, he turned to the turian, shaking his head again, "No, I'm not. He's too scrawny for that. But he can be helpful, despite his physique."
"He's only useful as varren fodder," Karak snorted.
Lantar ignored that particular jab, crouching down before Conrad, gaining his attention, "Tell me Conrad, are you afraid?"
Conrad frowned at him, gulping, "W-what kind of question is that?"
"Human's got a point, Lantar," one salarian said, the same one from before, "It's a pretty stupid question. He's obviously pissing himself. I can smell it from here."
"Just answer the damn question, Verner," Lantar snapped, clearly not in the mood of any prodding. Conrad nodded, and decided he'd answer the question, despite the reek of his drying urine.
"Y-yes," he croaked.
Lantar seemed to be satisfied by that answer. He stood up, hands moving to his sides, "Good, fear makes people useful. Makes them do remarkable things. Fear...we can use your fear."
"You would know all about that, wouldn't you, Lantar?" Karak's brother stated, cracking a smile along his four-eyed features, "Vakarian had you on the run for quite awhile."
"I was a coward," Lantar bluntly replied, showing no sign of amusement, "I betrayed my team, and got them murdered. Vakarian had every right to want me dead. But he spared me. You know why? Because I was scared, pitiful and sorry. Three things I'm using right now, and look where it's gotten us," he turned to Conrad, a light flashing in his eyes, "Now, Conrad, I'm going to need you to do something. All of us will. We need you to use your fear and channel it. I'm going to give you a task, and you need to complete it."
Conrad looked at him, and then glanced around the room, meeting nothing but unsympathetic looks. Karak just continued glaring at him, but his brother wasn't even looking at him, looking to be grooming his fingernails, the click of a nail clipper easily heard as one, brown nail, snapped in half, collapsed to the floor.
He turned back to Lantar, his throat suddenly dry. What do they want with me? "W-w-what do you need me to do?"
"You're going to get us out of here. Past Cerberus," Lantar declared, eying him with pity, "Problem is Conrad, you'll need to be brave. You'll need to...make a sacrifice."
Conrad paled at that, "A...sacrifice?"
"He means to say that you're going to die so we can escape, human," Karak's brother spoke again, tossing his nail clipper away as he loomed over him, gaze pitiless, "You're going to make a run for it, with Cerberus after you, while we sneak past. You're going to sacrifice yourself. Is that definitive enough for you?"
The blood completely drained from his face, and he felt his lips shake, tears welling in his eyes. They...they want me to die for them...to...help them escape...they want me to get myself killed...why? Why me?
"Why me?" he hadn't even realized he had voiced that last thought aloud until it was too late.
Lantar's gaze became sympathetic in that small instant, shaking his head, "Because your the man who's trying to pretend to be Commander Shepard," he sighed, rubbing his mandibles, "And Shepard would give his life to save others. I would know; he almost did so saving me. Stepped right in the firing line of a sniper rifle meant to kill me. He was willing to give his life to save me; tell me Conrad Verner, being so infatuated with him, are you willing to do the same? Our escape could save the Citadel; you could be a hero."
Conrad weighed his options, but he didn't like where it was going. I've always wanted to be just like Shepard...I wanted him to be proud of me...to respect me...I wanted to show everyone what humans could do. I wanted to be a Spectre, an N7, Cerberus, and to be Shepard...and now, to become a hero just like him, I have to die...
"...our escape could save the Citadel; you could be a hero..."
"...a hero..."
He was scared. Conrad Verner admitted that. He was a coward, a moron, and a stubborn fool. He had done things he'd come to regret, made a fool of himself, and tried to impress people, thinking they liked him when they actually just pitied him, or just wanted to paint the wall with his guts. Damn, he didn't even know if Shepard liked him; if he was just doing it out of sympathy. But in the end, despite the prospect of being able to do something good, he just couldn't.
He was a coward above all else. Complete chicken shit.
"N-no," Conrad stuttered, "I-I can't do this...I can't..."
Karak scoffed, gaining everyone's attention, "I told you. The human is as filthy as he is pathetic. What a waste of time."
Lantar didn't seem to tear his gaze from Conrad though, eyes boring into his skull like he was trying to look into the deepest recesses of Conrad's mind. It bore a hole into his soul, and he felt like everything he was thinking was open to the world in that one moment. But then it was over, and Lantar motioned to the door with his head, "Come on Verner, I'll take you outside. Hopefully Cerberus hasn't murdered everyone yet."
He nodded, slowly standing up and ignoring the glares the team shoved his way. It was then, as he looked at the skulls on their helmets, that he recognized who they were. Mercenaries. Of the Grim Skulls.
Lantar grabbed him by the shoulder and escorted him out. They found themselves in the cubicle again, this time filled with more people, and still being filled. Cerberus moved down the bay, a gunship coming to land on one of the landing pad, a fresh squad of troops deploying with the usual centurion at the head, the gunship's engines causing a roar that echoed through the whole bay.
Lantar gave him a light shove and in moments, Conrad could feel that he was alone again; alone amongst many strangers. Balak was still where he was standing before, albeit with more batarians surrounding him now.
But Conrad wasn't paying attention to that; he was concentrating on the opportunity he had missed. An opportunity to make a difference. Yes, he was terrified. But what did his life mean anyway?
He found a nearby crate and plopped himself down ontop of it, holding his head in his hands and beginning to sob, tears finally streaming into his hands as his life flashed before his eyes; all his failures, hiccups and embarassments, from school to the present day. They all came to haunt him; to remind him of much of a failure he really was. A sook.
His wife had left him; she must have seen how pathetic he was, what a waste of life he was, and was just fed up with his infatuation. And now she was likely dead; in some city somewhere, lying in a pool of blood...or turned into a Reaper abomination for them to deploy on some frontier world to use harvest others and repeat the process. Or maybe, she was already dead. He just didn't care anymore. She was gone, they never got to have any children, and so the Verner bloodline ended with him. He was literally it.
Then he remembered Lantar's words, just how right he was. He had summed up Conrad's reasons for being infatuated with Shepard in a nutshell; he wanted to be a hero. To be more than he was; to be more than a man who had failed all his university degrees. But wanted to help people, protect them...save the galaxy from dangerous foes. Shepard was his idol, and he worshipped him as an aspiration for what he wanted to be.
But how can you be that when you can't even stand the sight of blood?
In the end, he was no soldier. No inspiring idol. No god. Neither was Shepard. The man was just a human being who just happened to have the destiny of being the man who saved the galaxy. Just your average special forces soldier. The man had manifested his own destiny. And Conrad knew that he could as well. He was just a human being, and he could decide his fate. His Manifest Destiny.
He turned from his hands, looking up. He sniffed to recover from his weeping, and looked around the room, examining all the aliens and humans and he knew, from his scientific experience, or at least what he had gleaned from all his failed degrees and PhDs, exactly why Cerberus was doing this. Noone got spared...not even the humans.
The aliens were test subjects for Cerberus to experiment on; to dissect and open up.
And the humans, including himself, would become pawns for the Illusive Man. Part of his private army. Who were the two dragoons guarding them? Had they been average farmers? Captured alliance marines? Perhaps well renowned politicians or average failures like him? Is that what he was to become? An augmented supersoldier for Cerberus to dispose of at will?
Could he let himself get used like that? Commander Shepard wouldn't. He would fight back. He would die before serving a man like the Cerberus leader.
No. Conrad declared. I will not be like them. I will not be used like a tool. I'm more than that.
Conrad Verner was afraid. He was terrified. He was a moron, a fool, a failure. But there was one thing he wasn't.
He was no tool.
He picked himself up, about to make his way over to the two dragoons at the end. But after taking the first step, he froze up, feeling a pair of eyes on his back, as if able to sense it. Going based on his gut feeling, he slowly turned...
...and his eyes locked with that of a blue facepainted turian, who nodded to him upon seeing his eyes, leaning against the container he had been in, arms crossed and tapping his pistol sidearm. Lantar just looked at him, his men about to follow him outside as they began to pile out, all readying weapons.
He knew I'd change my mind. He knew I'd come around. Despite his fear, he choked back a sob and nodded back, puffing out his chest as he took a deep breath as he began to quicken his pace, locking onto the right most dragoon, towards end of the bay. Here goes nothing.
Conrad Verner will die.
But that doesn't matter. My life didn't matter much anyway.
He shoved past Balak, who let out an angry snarl as he tried to grab onto the human's shoulder, but missed by an inch. The rest of his men snapped and growled, but Conrad took no notice, simply increasing his pace towards the lone Cerberus trooper, who continued to be oblivious.
Without warning, he leapt past the dragoon and began to run towards the exit of the bay. He heard him call out, ordering him to stop, but he paid him no heed, simply continuing to run towards his goal. Maybe he lived, maybe he didn't. I know I won't...
A warning shot soared over his shoulder, Conrad knowing that was the only warning he would get. The next shot would be to cripple him. And if that didn't work, the third would be to kill him.
He kept running, and he almost reached the C-Sec customs checkout. But just as he reached it, he watched two assault troopers come rushing out, followed by a single combat engineer. Conrad came running to a halt, trying to correct his course, but was too late.
The engineer's phalanx took aim and fired, the shot piercing through his ankle as he collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony. But he would not give up; he hadn't given the mercenaries enough time to escape; they needed more time.
He turned, watching as they snuck by the distracted Cerberus soldiers, Lantar leading the group as they made their run for it. Conrad smiled, glad his plan had worked. He had actually done something right for once.
He got to his feet and began to limp away at a hurried pace, instead making for the parked gunship nearby.
He never made it, a third shot piercing through his back and blasting out through his pectorals, bringing the human to a complete stop as all the air was blown from his lungs, and he felt blood begin to rush up his throat, fleeing the destruction of his chest.
He spat, a large glob of blood launching from his both to intermix with the crimson blood already present on the ground. He garbled, and then collapsed to his knee, ignoring the fiery pain that came from his already injured ankle. He could feel his vision beginning to get blurry, as if knowing what fate was coming. He took a quick gulp, ready to accept what he already come to accept.
He fell face first onto the ground, more of his blood pooling around him and beginning to drift away from him, his lower cheek soaked as it flowed past his face and mixed in with his matty, blonde hair. His heavy stubble became caked with his own crimson life source, and he felt his life slowly drifting away, ready to depart towards heaven. So...this is what...death feels like...
Noone came to check on him; the Cerberus troopers just left him where they shot him down. He was of no further use to them; for questioning for forced conscription. He was just left where he was to die, and he was grateful for that. He felt like he was on a feathery bed, lifting up as he began to slowly die, closer and closer to true solace and tranquility.
As his eyelids began to droop, one thought occupied his mind as his eyes closed forever, and his mind went blank.
Commander Shepard would be proud.
Because he wasn't a failure anymore.
"The Citadel Siege was the brutal wakeup call the Council needed, and the rest of the Council races. It reminded them that there was a war out there. If anything, that day, I sort of thanked Cerberus for what they did. If they hadn't attacked...the Council might have remainded ignorant of the threat."
- Marcus Shepard.
"A pity it took a direct attack on the Citadel to open their eyes. Conrad Verner died that day."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"Among others..."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
I hope I wrote Conrad's death well enough. He didn't play a huge part in the story, and only really made a large appearance in Requiem, but I wanted to do him justice. I got the inspiration for Conrad's death scene from another fanfic I read called 'Mr Cellophane' by bluekrishna. I seriously recommend going over and giving it a read. I tried to keep it as original as possible, but that's where my inspiration for the scene came from. I hope it turned out alright.
Next part is up next and after that, four more interim chapters before we get to the 'Romance' side of the story genre. Too much adventure, ArchReaper! We need some Talimance! Her return is coming. I hope you are ready, fellow addicts...
Until then...
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
