AN: Nothing much to say really. Real happy with the way I wrote last chapter's prologue. Also, this story does actually make moderate use of metaphors and other literary devices such as foreshadowing and symbolism. If you are into that, then this story has some of that. Also, in case you are wondering, yes, I did steal the idea of a psychic navigator from Warhammer 40k.

I think that you should listen to the song that is quoted here in order to get a better sense of its meaning. Only about half of the song is quoted here. Major thanks to cyrisist001 for correcting a timeline error of mine.

Terms you need to know, Elite is slang for Homo Superioris.

Hound is slang for Homo Canines.

Brute is slang for Homo Brutis

Flashlight or Luminous human is slang for Homo Brightis

Navigators are just Yuri clones, and have no special name.

These terms can and will be used interchangeably within the story. Remember them.

Here is the next chapter to my story.

XxXxX

Eye on the TV
'cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor
It happens to be like;
Killed by the husband
Drowned by the ocean
Shot by his own son
She used the poison in his tea
And kissed him goodbye
That's my kind of story
It's no fun 'til someone dies

Don't look at me like
I am a monster
Frown out your one face
But with the other
Stare like a junkie
Into the TV
Stare like a zombie
While the mother
Holds her child
Watches him die
Hands to the sky crying
Why, oh why?
'cause I need to watch things die
From a distance

Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies
You all need it too, don't lie

Why can't we just admit it?

Tool- Vicarious

XxXxX

A disc was rotating in the empty vacuum. Devoid of all emotion, colorless, sitting there laughing at the arbitrary value of beauty. A cold and destitute type of mocking. The only marking on the whole exterior was small writing in Russian that said YSS Omega.

Next to it there was a large spoon like structure with a hole where the dip in the spoon should be. It was neither concave nor convex. The rings in the middle did not appear to be moving or be active in anyway.

Onboard it was filled with beings who embodied what the saucer's empty form represented, a frigid disinterest in anything but what they were told to do. The humans moved back and forth in a semi chaotic way. But it was still uncannily ordered. Some of them were moving around armored head to toe in Kevlar. It made them look like a fire mitt, safeguarded against the environment outside them. The Kevlar was segmented into a rectangular pattern about 1 square inch, each part sown back onto itself. Black goggles covered their eyes, reflecting back images of those who gazed into them.

Further into the ship, glowing canisters were omnipresent. They were so bright that in order to interact with them, specialized sunglasses were needed. They were hot to the touch, perfectly capable of permanently maiming a careless worker, hence the full body gear that everyone wore while on this part of the ship. Provided one had the right protection on the eyes, you would be able to see the outlines of human forms writhing in agony within their cages.

Right above that scene lay the command deck. Gigabytes of video and sensory data were filtered through the power of the massive supercomputer sitting in the very center of the whole ship. How fitting that the object the saucer orbited around was basically a fake brain. 3 humans were sitting in imposing chairs, looking at vidscreens. They were arrayed in a circle, facing outwards, with each chair equidistant from the next one. The chairs were far enough away to avoid distraction, but close enough to interact.

The people in the chair wore more distinct jumpsuits that hugged their forms tightly. Two of them wore an arrogantly bright pink, while the other one wore a sullen purple. One of the officers in the flamboyant pink was distinctly female. The only other thing on the jumpsuit was the light purple marking of Yuri right over her heart, ancient Hebrew letters that formed a distinctive English Y when together.

Her face was exposed, and she was unearthly beautiful. Full luscious red lips and high cheekbones, reminiscent of an angel. Maybe a fallen angel.

With engaging grace, she turned her head. "Hey, did you see the new games Master Yuri setup back on earth? The one where the baseliners had to try and swim through the arctic ocean to the island? The first one to live got the pleasure of serving in Master Yuri's personal bodyguard. It was a great monument to our dedication to His goals," She said with a surly lisp.

A nasally voice replied back. "No, I hadn't yet seen them. Were they good?"

"They weren't just good, they were great! I have replays of all the 2000 failures!" She said far too enthusiastically.

Suddenly, the man in the purple suit decided to chip in. "Don't you have anything better to do other than brag about how favored you are among Master Yuri?" He said in a gruff tone that betrayed little emotion. His face was wholly concentrated on the screen before him. How he even managed to spare that much attention to them was a mystery.

The gay and high pitched voice from the man in pink decided to throw his two cents in. "Hey, don't you have anything better to do than rain down on other peoples joy?"

"I'm just saying that Master Yuri gave us a mission, and we can relax when we are. . ."

"Beep! Beep! Beep! Energy levels from relay have spiked. Relay has been activated by local team," rang an alarm klaxon in the emotionless voice of a woman. All eyes on the bridge turned towards their vidscreens.

The rings in the middle of the object started to spin furiously, and a blue hue emerged from it. "Well, it looks like our mission here has just begun. Let's go through the relay to see what is on the other side." The man in purple said authoritatively. While the purple man's face might not have looked it, his inflection implied excitement.

His hands danced across the solid keyboard interface, sending orders to the psychic dominator located in the ship. The navigators onboard received their orders and began to prepare the ship for active combat. There was probably nothing on the other side, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Suddenly, the alarm rang again. "Beep! Beep! Beep! Proximity alarm activated! Unidentified object is coming through the relay!" The voice said again. Suddenly, the once palpable excitement in the vessel took on a much more anxious tone. It was as if the crew was forced to sober up after a shore leave. Sweat fell in beads down their faces.

Were they hostile?

The once excited voices of the two pink clad crewmates took on a dutiful tone. "What is the composition of the object?"

"Unknown. Hull composition and electronic I.D. matches no known signatures. Ship emitting the same type of energy as the relay." Replied the artificially smooth voice of the analytic supercomputer. "Warning, energy spike from unidentified craft detected. Weapons powering up." The voice of the computer once again said cleanly.

The purple clad man began to give out orders. "Quick, prepare to ready navigators to jump to Shanxi. We need to bring word of this to Yuri. He will know what to. . ." But he never finished.

Darkness. An all accompanying shroud of shadow covered him like a blanket. He had no idea what had even happened. He looked around. Finally, it hit him, he was impaled through his torso on a support beam. Blood dripped slowly from his terrible wound and stained his once proud purple uniform. The rest of the bridge was in shambles. Smoke was belched forth from ravaged computers, the broken forms of his comrades and baseliners surrounded him. He probably only had seconds to live.

With those few seconds, his eyes locked onto the last working sensor still pointed at the ship, and took note of its angular and predatory features.

'I have failed you Master Yuri. Forgive me.'

Then nothing.

XxXxX

It had been a rough couple of months for Jarvis. Ever since he led an aggressive boarding action against an unauthorized Batarian slaving ship, he had been taken down the ladder of demotion. It was a political nightmare for the Citadel. Scandal upon trivial scandal, headlines titled 'Citadel Races Openly Discriminate' or 'Is the Primarch a Racist?' In order for Primarch Fedorian to avoid political suicide, he passed down judgement on the shamed commander.

Just like that he was taken down from proud commander of the 92nd flotilla down to a mere captain. A captain of a simple and small scout ship.

It was boring work, patrolling this section of the galaxy. This system was an unaging abyss that swallowed his life and the lives of the crew that went with him. But that would change today.

Jarvis sat down on his command chair, overlooking the bridge where the Turians diligently went about their work. It was a common Turian vessel design, the higher up in rank you were, the higher up in the ship you actually were. Everywhere he looked, the Turian crew was focused on their task. Even if he was disappointed with his new rank, he could not have asked for a better group of Turians. A stark form of professionalism was emanating from that room, encompassing the whole ship. It was the mark of good old fashioned Turian discipline.

Even the way that the ship maneuvered in space was indicative of the ships incredible control. Sharp and quick turns, sudden changes in speed on the fly. The whole of the ship responded impressively to the captains orders. Joy filled Jarvis heart as he took note of his ship; pride in everything, everyone. . . "How much longer are we on patrol here for sir?" except for him.

The question came from a Turian off to Jarvis' right. Saren Arterius was his name, if he remembered correctly. The only Turian on the entire vessel with the balls to speak out of line. How he hated him. He was the least deserving of having the privilege to serve on this vessel. At best he deserved the honor of licking the shit off of his boots.

"We are on patrol until high command says otherwise Saren. Shut up and man your station." Jarvis replied in a very descending tone. His position on the high chair made Saren feel vastly inferior to him.

"Yes sir," Saren quietly mumbled. That at least seemed to shut up his annoying ass.

Saren was one of those people who you either loved or hated him. And Jarvis despised him. His inability to follow orders to the letter, always finding a way to reinterpret them to fit his own needs. He was probably the least Turian like Turian on the whole flotilla.

The whole reason he had not yet been court martialed and probably executed was because his brother was the general for the meager ground forces located in this flotilla. Jarvis would never understand exactly why he always bailed his brother out.

Suddenly, he was interrupted from his thoughts by Saren again. "Sir, you might want to see this," Saren said insolently.

"No Saren. I do not want to see what terrible Asari porn you have loaded onto your console. You are probably creating junk data on my sensor screen, now get it off my bridge," Jarvis disdainfully sighed. He then turned his attention to getting an app on his omni-tool open in order to pass the time.

Before he could act on that impulse, Saren interrupted him yet again. "No sir, this is serious this time! The relay just activated!" Saren said quickly.

Jarvis almost jumped out of his seat when he heard that. What could it be? Pirates? Most likely, he concluded. He fumbled to put his omni-tool away and started giving orders. The first order to give was to get the ship to proper fighting strength. He pressed the button on his chair and began speaking. "This is your captain speaking. All hands report to battle stations in anticipation of hostile contact. The mass relay has just been activated by an unknown entity," said Jarvis. He then depressed the button and began to give out more orders.

"I want all power from nonessential systems put into the kinetic barrier! Contact the rest of the flotilla, let them know that we have a potential hostile situation here!" he bellowed. The Turians on the bridge calmly went about their orders, as if the situation was not dangerous at all. But everyone was nervous, everyone had that nagging at the back of their heads.

What if these were not just pirates? No sane man would ever activate a mass relay. Not after the terrible Rachni wars.

"I want to move as quickly as possible towards the relay. The sooner we get there, the more likely we have the element of surprise. I want weapons loaded and ready to go. I want marine teams on decks 1-7 where boarding is most likely to occur," Jarvis said in quick succession. Inside of his own mind, Jarvis was ecstatic. It was the exact opposite of what the rest of the crew felt.

Here it is, a chance to get out of the political shitstorm I got myself into for doing my fucking job and actually giving a damn.

The small frigate began to glide through the vacuum to its destination. It started going faster and faster, like a shark going after wounded prey. Blood was in the water. When it got close the mass relay, blue lighting reached out and seized the ship to fling it across the galaxy.

Straight into hell.

On the bridge, the transit felt almost instantaneous. Jarvis immediately tried to get bearings on his surroundings. Straight outside of the window on the bridge was an ugly saucer shaped spacecraft. It was draped in a very glum metal, probably unpainted except for a small marking that he could not make out with his naked eye. It was obviously not a pirate ship. Jarvis immediately formed a plan of attack in his head.

What they had was far more dangerous. A new species was tampering with what it did not understand. Action had to be taken, the law must be upheld.

While that thought ran through Jarvis' cold and calculating mind, the rest of the crew froze up in shock.

A new species here? This could go down in history.

"Give me a targeting solution on that ship. I want it to be completely scrapped. Send a message via force to the new aliens that they cannot mess with things they do not comprehend," Jarvis said very authoritatively. All of the crew on the bridge visibly bristled at this command. However, they began to carry out his orders. No good Turian ever let his personal feelings get in the way of a superiors orders, even if he could not see the reason behind them. A slug was loaded into the main gun and the magnetic accelerators were picking up energy. All of them followed his orders to the letter. All except for the one he hated, of course.

"But sir, why? They have not performed any actions against us and their ship has no visible weapons. It is quite likely that they pose no threat to us. Is shooting at them really the best course of action?" Saren asked with concern.

"Saren, you will follow my orders for no other reason than because I said so. Now do as I say or else your brother will have to rescue your ass from court martial, again," Jarvis stated with incredible spite laced into every word.

Saren reluctantly began programming the coordinates for the firing solution. In truth, Jarvis could not care less whether or not they hostile. All he knew was that a new race was found for the Turians to add to their clientele. He cared that no matter what happened, he would be promoted. If he fought gallantly, that was. And with that promotion would come the perks of choosing what side of the galaxy you want to be on. Hopefully, he would be able to hit the Batarians right where it hurt.

Either way, he just had to survive long enough to give high command a false report that said that the new aliens fired upon him first. After that, he would get much glory, and more importantly, he would be able to get that transfer request.

The cannon was primed and ready to go. "Fire," ordered Jarvis.

The recoil of the main gun propelled the small frigate back a few dozen meters. The Magnetically propelled slug sailed through the void and hit the ship in the center. The sheer kinetic energy of the slug buckled and warped the armor that surrounded the ship. The slug still had enough momentum to exit the other side, taking with it lots of debris. Escaping gasses left the ship and that fueled the scorching fires all over the hull. Such fires would die out after a few minutes when all the combustible gasses had been sucked out.

Huh, odd. I would have thought that it would take more than one slug from our weak cannon. Oh well. This new race will be an easy campaign.

"Send word to the rest of the flotilla. I want their support here as quickly as possible." Jarvis said. Now he only needed to find a way to make the crew stay quiet so he could feed High Command his lies. The only way to keep them silent was to kill them. No Turian, no problem after all. But how could he do that without word getting out?

XxXxX

Down on Shanxi itself, a hard sight greeted those who gazed upon it. Drab housing blocks were layered over one another in a ramshackle way. They were clearly built to meet only the most minimal needs, and even that was being generous. There was nothing to decorate them, as the people who inhabited them could barely even be called such anymore.

The roads between habitation blocks were marked with huge potholes, like they were in a warzone. But running through the city, was a large train. Unlike the rest of the city, everything on it was in pristine condition. Metals gleamed and shined in the sun. The train itself hovered above the rails, as if it was above this lowly city.

If you followed the train to its destination, it would bring you to the small modern portion of the city. Nightclubs, theaters and museums filled this part of the planet. One human with obvious and regal clothing would be followed by a dozen in rags as they made their way from place to place.

Sometimes the ones in the opulent fabrics would just stop and randomly start beating one of the pockmarked ones. And they all just stood and watched, like a pack of dogs brought to heel. One even decided to not wait until they got to the nightclubs and fucked in the street.

This was the Megacenter. It was a pleasure retreat for Yuri's Homo Superioris working on the planet. Debauchery was the rule of the day. Cocaine was sold on the streets like bags of candy, primal grunts could be heard from outside any type of club.

But this was only the street level. In the upper stories of the skyscrapers real business was conducted. Thousands of reports were processed here by think tanks and super computers. They then gave their information to the local Homo Superioris, who decided what to do with that data. One report was coming through the process that would change the type of world that they lived in.

Contact was lost with the YSS Omega.

One of the baseliners saw this report and decided to take this report directly to his superior, as were his orders that anything that involved losing assets be taken there immediately.

On his way to the elevator, he passed several thousand brains suspended in tanks. A think green goo clung to all that presided within those tanks. As he moved past said tanks, a barcode could be seen with the numbers 29045912 burned there.

He punched the floor elevator key and went to take this report directly to the man in charge.

It would be the last thing he would ever do.

XxXxX

On top of the largest tower in the Megacenter was the commander for Yuri's forces, General Williams. Held to his mouth was the ancient beverage of coffee. A deep roast could be smelt all over the room.

As he removed the cup, his features became more apparent. Deep hazel eyes were coupled with black comb over style hair. A small frown was also etched into his face. It was indicative of his original mood.

The reason for his sourly twisted face was because the psychic dominator in the main city almost lost power. If it was not for the timely override of the emergency security systems within the power plant, he would have lost control over the planet. For most people on the planet, losing the ability to hear the small thing at the back of your head that told you what to do would have been confusing.

With the exception of a few original samples frozen in stasis back on earth and Master Yuri himself, no one had any idea what it would have been like to be free. It must have been terrifying before, not having a wise man to guide your decisions throughout time, for the benefit of humanity.

Williams was terrified off the possibility that the dominator could have turned off. The incredible amount of unrest that would come about if he lost control of that was part of the reason he was relieved when it was over.

The other reason Williams followed his orders was because Master Yuri could kill him at any time. He was also of course conditioned to. Williams received that scratch at the back of his head just as much as anyone, but it was not completely dominating. That small scratch left just enough room to interpret his orders and act accordingly, but not much else.

The only thing that Master Yuri did not tell him was how to extract his entertainment from his subjects. It always amused Williams that he allowed such wasteful spending of resources.

As he was thinking of a good way to relieve stress today, one of the filthy baseliners came out of the elevator and entered his room.

"Sir, I have a new report I think you would like to see," He said flatly. Williams could see him holding actual paper. It must have been important enough for the slave to deliver it personally and not send it through his usual daily electronic report.

"Give it to me," Williams said demandingly. If it was another infrastructure failure report, Williams was going to lose his shit.

The baseliner walked up to General Williams. Here, the differences became quite apparent. The baseliner was crooked, leaning to one side. Dirt marred his face and a terrible smell came from his malodorous body. This was the fate of those who were genetic rejects. At best it was to be a messenger. At worst, they were taken to earth never to be seen again. Rumor held that Master Yuri held many cruel experiments on them.

But compared to the pathetic being before him, Williams was elegant. A sort of wiry strength could be seen below his suit. Strong, but not a body builder. As opposed to the smell of dying animals, the air around Williams had an aroma of cinnamon. He towered over the slave by at least 8 inches. It was not because the slave was short, but because he had a large 6'4 frame.

As the slave handed him the report, Williams's field of view became very narrow. All of a sudden, it was just him, the report, and now the object of his wrath, the baseliner who brought him this terrible news. It was then that he noted the slave's skin was very pale, like the first of the 4 horsemen from the book of Revelation.

His eyes scanned the paper over and over again, trying to come up with some way to reject the information he was seeing. But there was no way to misinterpret what he was seeing.

The YSS Omega was missing.

He had failed to take proper precautions for hostile contact.

He had failed his master.

There was only one explanation for a sudden disappearance like that, aliens. Pirates did not exist, no one could even think of disobeying Yuri. Anger welled up in Williams's chest.

"Slave, what is your designation?" Williams asked in a dangerously calm voice. The type of threatening voice that will petrify you, turn you to stone.

But it had no effect on the baseliner. "My designation is 29045912 sir," he said without a hint of fear.

"29045912, stand still," order Williams. There was murder in his eyes. Before he was killed by Master Yuri for his incompetence, he would find release in killing someone else. His hands were curled into fists.

Then it began.

Punch after punch after punch.

Williams's fists ached, they were covered in blood. Broken teeth filled the apartment around him. But throughout all of this, there was not one peep from the slave. Suffocating silence that was interrupted only by the sounds of impact.

Suddenly, the slave's body could take it no longer, and the superhuman strength of Williams caved his skull in. Brains splattered all over the Persian rug.

Now that he dealt with his anger issues, Williams calmly walked over to the communicator. He then began to put commands into the psychic dominator. 'Prepare the fleet for potential hostile contact. I want them hidden away to maintain the element of surprise. All population report to processing centers and military outposts. Prepare a psychic message to be sent to earth. Tell Master Yuri we have engaged hostile aliens.'

Everyone on the colony then got a new directive. Elites fled out of clubs. Brutes left their construction projects. Hounds left their posts. Psychics just stayed in their command centers, preparing for war.

It was all a part of a contingency plan Yuri put into place in case of a hostile contact.

There would be hell to pay for this.

XxXxX

Admiral Septilius was completely focused on the task before him. The other part of the flotilla that had patrolled around the opposite side of the nebula. When he had received a summon from that lowly piece of shit Jarvis, he scrambled to put the flotilla back together. It was a relatively small flotilla of only 27 ships. 19 frigates, 6 cruisers, 1 heavy cruiser and 1 carrier. His flotilla had been one of many to combat test the effectiveness of a new class of ship designed to just transport fighters and troops.

It was a waste of money it his opinion, both the design and the fact that it was assigned to his flotilla. Surely they could have assigned it to a more active system in the traverse if they wanted to test its combat capabilities.

Dispersed over the whole flotilla was a division of troops, led by General Desolas. It was a relatively small division of 15,000 Turian soldiers.

Again, why they were assigned to his fleet confused him. The only soldiers he would need were a couple of marines to resist boarding actions. Not a whole goddamn division. What a gross misallocation of valuable resources.

At least, that was what he first thought. Now he was happy that High Command had given his flotilla these things. He would find in a few short hours that even this was not nearly enough to do the task that he needed to do.

Pacify this new race.

But he did not yet know that. His fleet flew in an arrogant wedge shaped formation. Each ship was positioned so that they could fire their prow mass accelerators. The strongest ships were in front to take the brunt of the attack, while the weakest were further back, giving them room to maneuver and dodge shots if need be. It was a tried and true tactic, used since the ancient Krogan Rebellions.

It was this formation that would be their downfall.

The ships had dropped out of FTL no more than a few hundred thousand Kms from their destination. The bright exhaust poured out of their engines as they accelerated towards their destination, a verdant garden world.

Onboard the command ship, Septilius was going through his final plans of assault on the planet. In the board room he was surrounded by other ship captains' holograms. A deep scar ran down the right side of his face, a relic from a Krogan warlord he had to put down. An air of astute authority also came from his presence, the type that came with age and experience.

"When we reach this new world, I want everyone to destroy whatever mediocre fleet and orbital defenses are around the planet. No missed shots, I do not want infrastructure collateral. The more the population cooperates with us, the smoother their integration into the Hierarchy." Septilius said.

"Sir, what of the Citadel when they learn of our actions?" said one of the captains to Septilius.

Septilius face took on a thoughtful look. "The Citadel will probably not take too kindly to our actions. But they will need to deal with it. A new and potentially dangerous race that just decided to open up a relay? Not only that, but they fired upon our ship? We are perfectly justified in our actions. The Turians exist to keep peace at all costs. That includes nipping a potential threat in the bud. Maybe even with our guidance, they will become productive members of galactic society." Septilius said. His voice was gentle, like a father speaking down to a child in need of understanding.

The captain who addressed him seemed content with that answer and stayed his breath. With no more questions being floated around, Septilius decided to end the meeting.

"Alright, everyone to your posts! I want everyone to keep com channels open for my orders. You are dismissed," Septilius said. He left the room to return to his command chair. It was a convenient design to have the com room right behind the bridge. On the outside, his calm demeanor gave the people around him confidence. But on the inside, he was a nervous wreck.

What if I fail this? What if this backfires and comes down on my head? What if integration does not go well?

But he could not show doubt. Doubt from a commander only inspired fear in the ranks of soldiers. Indecisiveness that could lose them the battle, if there was a battle to be had that is. That was the other thing that threw Septilius off, he had no idea of the new species capabilities. Attacking blind is one of the things that Septilius hated the most.

Outside of the glass pane on the bridge, he could see the small dot that he was approaching get larger and larger. The nervousness that he felt within his soul was banished when he got close enough to see what little the planet had in defenses. There were only a few minimal satellites in orbit around the planet. They did not even look to have weapons on them. There was not even a fleet orbiting it. Maybe the ship that Jarvis had destroyed was their only capable spaceship.

He also detected very few radio transmissions.

He thumbed the com button to communicate with the fleet. "This is Admiral Septilius. Bring all of the fleet to a halt. Shoot down the satellites surrounding the planet. After that, send first recon down to the planet. I want to know what we are getting into before I commit a full division to the planet," Septilius ordered.

Within the chambered part of the heavy cruiser where the main gun is, a high pitched wine could be heard. It slowly became louder and higher pitched. Suddenly, the round in the chamber accelerated violently. If the gun was not compartmentalized and separate from the rest of the ship, a sonic boom would have been heard as it accelerated out of the barrel at several times the speed of sound.

The same scene was repeated in several ships all across the flotilla as they fired their primary guns. Nothing even stood in the way of the moving hunks of metal as they went through the satellites.

Thankfully, the Turian fleet was angled perpendicular to the planet so the rounds would not keep going and smash into the ground. Once they hit their designated targets, the slugs kept going at a fast enough pace to escape orbit. They were never to be seen again, condemned to fly through the void until another force acted upon them.

And with that act, the Turians had forever opened Pandora 's Box.

XxXxX

Codex: Psychic Corps- Established back in 1916 in the original takeover of earth, the Psychic Corps is Yuri's elite force for dealing with enemies. It is composed entirely of thoroughly indoctrinated humans with latent psychic abilities. They proved their effectiveness when they rapidly overran Europe. Ever since the final conquest of Japan, the psychic Corps has seen little action. There have only been a handful of minor incidents regarding Cerberus where the Psychic Corps has actually been needed to apply force.

The specialty of this Corps is mind control and psychological tactics. And occasionally, when the time comes for it, overwhelming barrages of psychic energy. This Corps very often works together with other Corps to make strong combined arms groups. The current strength of the Psychic Corps as of last count was 5.5 million strong, making it the 3rd largest Corps in Yuri's arsenal.

Specialized equipment includes Mastermind tanks, Psychic Devastator squads, and baseline psychic initiates.

Codex: Brutis Corps- Composed of strong armed Brutes, or Homo Brutis, hence the name. This Corps specializes in shock assaults and strong spearhead attacks. Brutes can be mutated from any human in the population. However, specialized Brutes mutated from humans who were bred specifically to be Brutes are significantly stronger, more agile, more intelligent, and more resistant to damage.

Brute anatomy is composed of 2 beating hearts, silicon plating on the skin, and extremely dense muscular structure make for an effective soldier. While significantly more durable than an average human, they do not come close to a Krogan standard of toughness. However, despite potential for a really effective shock force, Yuri tends not to arm basic Brutes with weapons, preferring to save manufacturing capabilities for more advanced hardware in other Corps. Part of the reason for this being because He has not had to make use of this Corps since his domination of earth was finished. Despite this, basic Brutes are still very deadly in close range.

But while basic Brutes have no weapons to speak of, elite Brutes often carry weapons. These are separated into 2 categories. The anti-vehicle Brutes with large weapons, and jumpack Brutes with giant mauls and explosive packs. Both are very rare though when compared to the everyday Brute.

This Corps is the second largest in Yuri's army, with 8 million strong. However, numbers are easily replenished and losses are never considered for this Corps. If 30 Brutes die to kill 1 enemy, it was a success.

Specialized weapons include Mauler tanks, Magnitrons, and specialized Brute infantry.

XxXxX

Thank you for reading. Now review my story. Let me know what you think of my writing style, characters, plot, anything. Just give me feedback.