CHAPTER TWO:
I, Orphan
It went pretty simply…at first. I remember him telling me everything, remember every detail of the story like I was there myself…can see the concern flickering in his hazel eyes like it was only yesterday.
If I close my eyes, I see them entering the cave where a special artifact lay…a relic that the one named Desolas had found with his crew. Jack and Ben approached, amazed at the helix-like glowing crystal before them, confused and disturbed by what they saw. There were chains wrapped around its spiked base, and as they knelt down to feel it, they couldn't believe what they saw: track marks.
Someone had carried chains that weighed at least two tons…and used them to drag a crystal into a cave. What monster could do that?
They found out a moment later. Nick let out a cry. He was launched through the air, slamming into the wall as they took notice of odd, partially robotic Turians that were racing towards them from the dark recesses of the caves. The snarls of hateful fury filled the air, near-mindless and cold words, whispering out from their fanged mouths in tongues that were indecipherable to all but Nick, who turned pale when he heard them speak.
He tried to stand up as they fired on the things, amazed at how many shots it took to down them, confused at the glowing blue cybernetic implants embedded in their bodies. Jack remarked that the beings seemed "evolved", and that they had to alert General Williams. They tried to call him up…
Or at least, Jack did. No such luck. Ben thought perhaps the relic was causing interference. He reached out to touch it…
Lighting sparked off the relic. Nick remembered them screaming. He tried to stand up as Jack tugged at Ben, who had foolishly touched the relic. Jack was sent flying back and Nick ran to Ben, who convulsed on the ground as Eva approached Jack from behind, all of them soon made prisoners by the Turians as they stormed in, guns at the ready.
All of them feared for their lives…
"Oh, c'mon, C'MON!" The dark-haired young lad insisted as he and the rest of his friends sat on the curb of Tenth Street, folding his arms before his chest, his deep eyes gazing intently at Mr. McKay's wrinkled old face. "Tell us what happened next! You can't end it on a cliffhanger like that!"
"I'm sorry, boys." Lucas chuckled as the other members of the "Reds" groaned, the youngest members of the infamous street gang moaning as one as the pale-haired old octogenarian waved a hand in the air as he sat on a floating hover-chair and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. "That's all you get for today. You won't get the rest of the story until you come back tomorrow."
"Same time, same place old man?" The young lad named Shepherd inquired as he raised a thick eyebrow up, Mr. McKay nodding vigorously, glasses bouncing up and down as Shepherd's close-cut-haired friend Finch rubbed the back of his head as Shepherd led him and the rest down the street towards an alleyway, flying cars passing overhead with loud, vibrant mechanical roars. The planet Earth still had a beautiful blue sky despite the fact you could faintly see the remains of space stations not quite perfected floating high above, some slightly closer than the moon.
Earth had been going through a kind of golden age. With the discovery of the Mass Effect relays, new technology had gone leaps and bounds. Now the fields that the relays generated weren't just used for launching small slugs through the air to tear through flesh harsher than a cannonball, nor did they launch spaceships through faster than light travel. No, that had led the way to even greater developments, from teleportal technology, eco-friendly skyscrapers made out of materials that wouldn't rot the Earth…why, gasoline was a thing of the past.
From the slowly lowering pollution to the crime rates across the globe, things were looking pretty damn good for humanity. But the problem was that not everyone could see that.
"It's the perfect time of year, somewhere far away from here." Shepherd sang to himself as he and the rest of the gang banged on a false wall in an alleyway, opening up a hidden door that slid up to allow them easy access into an elevator shaft. Things were fine, just…not for people like him. People like him were just trying to go day by day, with the little things slowly building up to make their lives better. If they could just hold on a bit and get themselves out of the city…really make something of themselves, maybe get an education…
But you needed a lot to get that out. You needed money to pay for that education. You needed a foot in the door.
"This, my friends…this is our ticket to the big time." Their friend Noah insisted as they finally hopped out of the elevator, their wild-haired buddy waving cheerily at them from the circular bean bag chair he was sitting in, a hovering computer console circling slowly around him at his command, a pair of large, specialized headphones hanging around his neck. He clapped his hands together, blue eyes aglitter with ideas as the console halted in place and small vid screens floated out from the dark blue walls of their private "clubhouse" deep within the recesses of the city to hover before each and every member of the Tenth Street Reds. "We've been contacted by Themis."
Immediately jaws dropped, eyes widened as Shepherd gasped slightly. "Themis?! THE Themis?" He asked. To say that Themis was big time would be an insult to the craft. The Quarian wasn't just one the "Cadre", the security team established by the Systems Alliance and the Council themselves, no. The smooth operator ran the city's black market and was said to be remarkably rich. They could faintly see his eyes burning through the dark visored face he had on the vid-screens that floated around them, see the power in his arms, currently folded across his chest as they heard his voice.
"Your friend Noah was quite…brave…to ask me for funds. I too understand the importance of a good education, my young humans."
Shepherd noticed Finch was flinching slightly, looking like he wanted to puke. It was bad enough in Finch's mind that Turians and Asari were used to teach human biotic, aka "psychic" techniques, and that Salarians and Krogan helped train police forces on proper "takedown techniques" which had occasionally been practiced on the Tenth Street reds themselves. But now the stupid "fishtank faces" were part of a security team? Why? For diversity?!
Still, as funny as it might have been to see Finch start spouting off ridiculously racist pap, Shepherd knew this was one time Finch would keep his big, nationalistic pride to himself. When Themis talked, you freakin' listened.
"You see, I need someone to investigate a shop in the lower quarter. Men of mine have been going in. Some…haven't been coming out. And the ones that have, well…" The quarian waved his three-digited hand in the air, the almost bird-like curved legs and feet he had stepping back a bit as Shepherd could swear he saw the Quarian retch slightly behind the mask. "Have come back…not quite themselves. I need people who, frankly, nobody will miss to investigate it. Orphans, such as yourselves, will work for practically peanuts."
Shepherd's other friend, the Red's tagalong buddy Lewis, raised a gloved hand up, waving the thick-digited black thing in the air, taking a step forward towards one of the floating vid-screens before him. "You…ARE…" He began to roar out before finally lowering it back down with a snap, hanging his head. "Absolutely right."
"Good thing you recognize not to pick a fight with me. I've got my little hands in so many venues here in your city that I can easily make every one of you disappear if you really annoy me." Themis went on, the faint echoey tone to his fluid voice ringing through the room as he folded his arms across his tightly-armored dark blue and black chest. "You are to examine the shop from top to bottom and report back to me, and if you do well, you'll be rewarded handsomely. For starters, I won't have you thrown in jail for that vandalism trick you pulled last week."
Noah blushed a bit as Shepherd raised a hand up. "My bad." He confessed, Themis chuckling slightly. "If I'd known that was your car I NEVER would have stolen the boosters off of it."
"I'm more impressed you got them out without sounding the alarm. That kind of streetwise wisdom will do you well for this little assignment." Themis told them with a nod of his helmeted head, Noah typing into the hovering computer console to his right as the vid screens displayed a map of Tenth and Main. "The shop is at this location. Report everything you find. I'll have my special operators for 911 waiting for you. Ask for the "Cadre" line and say Themis sent you."
…
…
…
…as they pushed the door open, they were instantly struck by how disturbingly…empty it all was. The shelves were cleared off of all tchotchkes, knickknacks and souvenirs, the boxes in the shop windows were opened and empty…yes, the store was closed, but still, this all felt wrong somehow.
Weirder still, the door to the back of the store wasn't real. Lewis poked it with one of his thick gloves as Shepherd gave him a "what are you doing" look, raising an eyebrow in the air as the short-haired stubby tubby kid nervously grinned back. "What?"
"Can't you use something that isn't your own hand? What if you set off the alarm-in fact, why didn't you check the door for an alarm, Lewis?" Shepherd wanted to know as he slapped his forehead, shaking it back and forth.
"I'm not good at that kind of thing. When it comes to checking for alarm systems, I'm not that kind of thief." Lewis insisted as he passed a hand through the now-obvious hologram of the door in back of the service counter of the dimly lit store, all of them making their way through the hologram and down deep, deep through a series of stairways hewn from the stony material the basement of the store was made of.
Musky scents filled the air, foul and malodorous, choking their throats as they finally pushed open a door, peeking through the crack this made as they saw the owners of the store walking past with recent "customers", all of whom were so obviously not their normal selves. There was a faint bluish glow to their bodies as if…
…they had cybernetic implants.
"Just like the things in the story." Shepherd whispered out loud, his soft eyes widening in surprise and horror. Whatever things the owners of the store were selling had to be the same kind of artifact that Mr. McKay's platoon had uncovered back when they'd fought the Turians in the First Contact War! All the symptoms were there for them to see as they slunk out of the hallway and followed after the customers, unnoticed due to how small and silent they were being. They passed by pillar after pillar, weaving their way through the hallway, casting nervous glances back and forth as the people within the basement of this sinister store began to speak with one another.
Well, perhaps "speak" wasn't the right word…and perhaps "people" wasn't either. Slightly glowing eyes…the cybernetic implants…faint, whispering murmurs of a language that was half hiss and half tongues pronouncing the unpronounceable…and when the customers stopped in front of a series of statues in a room at the far end of a hewn hallway, they moved the statues about as if they were plastic, and not hard marble and pearl, our young ragtag gang gaping in surprise.
Nobody said anything, save for further shared glances of confusion and slight alarm, hiding behind the pillars in the halls. These things were lifting three ton statues about and moving them in place for what appeared to be a kind of ritual, customers that had less cybernetic implants in them than the others placed within the center of a ring carved into the floor in the far-off room, all with their hands held high.
"Don't suppose any of you know what they're saying? Mr. McKay said the Turians spoke Latin…Lewis?" Noah wanted to know as Lewis shook his head back and forth, chewing on his lip.
"I've never heard that dialect before." Lewis muttered as the customers murmured and moaned in their strange language as the Fifth Street Reds crept into a nearby doorway, pushing it open and looking around at a large collection of assembled relics, all of whom had the sort of strange miasma to them that the customers of this unnatural store did. Some gleamed brightly with purple/black lines running through them, others pulsated like a beating heart freshly ripped from the ripcage of an unfortunate, casting faint blue light on their terrified faces.
"We've got to burn this place to the ground. RAZE it. These things are forming their own army." Shepherd finally decided, still whispering to the others as he slammed his fist into his palm, Noah noticing the door behind them was opening up, eyes bugging out. "And they've long stopped being human, that's for sure…they're all monsters."
"GAH!" Noah pointed at the cloaked figure that had lowered its hood and was staring at them, long-nailed hands reaching for them, glaring angrily before Lewis whipped his knife from his belt at the figure, striking it in the throat, cutting its attempt to roar out at them as Shepherd realized how to bring it down. He immediately dove at the thing's legs, bowling it over by slamming into them and rolling through, rolling right into the door and closing it as the customer hit the floor, Finch whipping out what HE kept in his belt, a vial…one of many…of acid.
Yes. Acid. And when you thought about it, this was absolutely sick. What depraved little brat threw acid at cops that chased after them, or threatened stool pigeons with "permanent liquid facial surgery"? Well, Finch would. It was a miracle that none of the vials ever shattered whenever they got into a scuffle, and a miracle still that the acid now worked, Finch pouring vial after vial over the thing's head as it struggled uselessly, trying to claw the acid off its head as the skull caved in with squelchy, wet THLUCKING noises, Shepherd keeping the door closed and locked from the inside as he put his ear to the door, waiting…
Nobody was coming. Phew. Whatever ritual they were doing was so loud he could hear it from here. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned back to look at the inky black bloody mess that was the thing's head, cringing. He had been secretly hoping this thing wasn't human anymore…and without a doubt, he could see this being had stopped being human ages ago. It's bones weren't even white anymore. He turned to his friends, taking a deep breath, instantly regretting it because the caustic copper scent of acid filled the air.
"Like I said. We need to raze this place to the ground and SALT it so nothing grows back." Shepherd stonily remarked. "Or every person in the city is gonna end up looking like this…THING." He added, waving his hand at the sunken-in, almost totally melted head of the customer.
"I noticed support beams all through the hallways, and all of them are keeping the building from collapsing in on itself." Lewis said as he turned to Noah, who nodded firmly and turned to Finch. "Not to mention they're ancient. These things must be using the place as a temporary headquarters because they know it won't be safe for much longer."
"Think you got enough acid to melt through them?"
"It'll take another trip back to HQ, but hellz yeah, I can bring down the house. CRASH the roof and crush these spazzes." Finch said with a snort, holding his hand up and clenching it into a fist. "Man, I got enough back at my room to flood this whole place!"
"You've got WAAAAY too much free time on your hands, man." Shepherd grumbled, sticking his tongue out in disgust.
…
…
…
… "Da-da-da-daaa! Dum-dah-daaahhh!" Shepherd sang out, the A-Team theme ringing through the air as he adjusted the bandolier he was wearing at the moment. Shepherd was standing in front of an enormous mirror in his private room, and he, much like his room, was looking GOOD. All of his friends, himself included, had a bedroom of their own that was an offshoot from the main meeting hall where they'd just taken the call from Themis, and all of them spruced up their rooms in their own unique way. Lewis, though he didn't usually help so much as just BE there, liked to line his room with as much stolen electronic equipment he could get hold of, Finch had a little chemical lab by his bed stand, and Shepherd had a small library's worth of books by an enormous mirror, and countless old-fashioned military ware.
Shepherd had always been fascinated by the old, glorious tales of wartime heroism, partially because he viewed such acts as real examples of altruism and glory in the midst of hell, and partially because deep down inside his heart he knew that the only way he could ever get ahead in life was to get an education. And the easiest way to get that? Enrolling in the military.
It would be an excellent way to travel to the stars, to get away from this city, to make something big of himself. Yes, he knew it was a romantic idea to think that joining the army would solve his problems, but stranger things had happened…
And there was also the other dream he had. Sometimes when he rested in his bed, he would curl up slightly under the covers, pulling the blanket tightly to himself, brow furrowing as he imagined what his parents had been like. And as he drifted off to sleep, he would think about what his parents had been like, and he would see the kind of proud-cut military man he always imagined his father would have looked like, and the soft but firm smile of his mother. Sometimes, if he concentrated, he could faintly feel their hands on his shoulders, and almost hear their voices…
His parents had been ex-military. It was one of those things you just "knew" about your parents, a fact he quickly learned from the little he could remember of them from when he was just a babe. Shepherd was sure that becoming a military man would be continuing the family legacy.
And now he had his first assignment.
"Time to get ready, soldier. You're a-going to war. Going deep behind enemy territory." Shepherd said as he slicked black paint over his cheeks, placing a headband around his forehead and a many-pouched belt around his waist with a big silver buckle, nodding firmly at himself in the mirror. "Going full Commando on these things."
He hesitated a bit, thinking about the old "cannon" films he enjoyed watching. Deep down, he knew those movies were fiction, and he knew that most likely, he and his friends would end up really badly hurt by what they were about to do. The nervous expression on his face was giving him one message and one message only: It's not too late to back out.
…but people's lives were at risk. And they had no idea how much time they had before those things were so numerous that nothing could stop them. In and out. Trash the basement's support beams, provide cover if needed, and run for your life. That simple.
"No plan survives contact with the enemy."
"MOST plans don't survive contact with the enemy." He thought out loud, shaking his head back and forth. "We'll improvise. The Tenth Street Reds are real good at that."
"Okay, Shepherd. It's time to saddle up." Noah announced, poking his head in as he hoisted the grenade belt he was bringing back onto the waist it kept unfortunately slipping off from. "You locked and loaded?"
"Sir, yes, SIR."
…
…
…
… "Listen, Lewis. This man." Noah said, drawing on a large, discarded, thrown-in-a-dumpster-and-left-to-rot-away chalk board. "I saw him in the far back. Biggest out of all of them with a little necklace hanging out from his hood and a big old staff. Dollars to doughnuts this man right here is the boss. Can you sneak up behind him and backstab him after we throw the gas grenade into the central chamber?" He asked, scribbling a very stick figure-esque imitation of the head honcho.
"I'm usually not that kind of thief, but I think I can do that, yes." Lewis admitted, slicing down into an apple with his hunting knife, biting into it with a wet CHA-CHUNK of his teeth as Noah kept writing on the chalkboard.
"Then I'll set up the distraction…get them running…"
The chamber deep down within the darkest recesses of the antique shop was dimly lit by black-burning torches as the cloaked and hooded customers chanted. The voices of the "evolved" beings that had lost their humanity were hissing, snarling whispers laced with dark venom as the leader slowly walked to the center of the room, staff held high as he spoke loudest out of all of them…all of them transfixed as his staff brightly glowed.
Tonight it began. Tonight they would swarm out from the city, planting the artifacts. What had happened on the planet Palaven to the Turian people had failed. But not this time. This time the will of-
SRRRZZSSSHHHHH!
There was a very loud hissing noise echoing through their ears, but this time it wasn't coming from any of their fanged mouths. All of them looked around, blue and glowing eyes bugging out in surprise as smoke filled the air and they coughed and spluttered, trying to regain their sense of direction, the leader feeling something stabbing into his back at the base of the spine, falling down, another stab hitting him harder, then another, then another…
Slowly but surely the smoke began to clear as the customers saw their leader lying dead on the ground, lifeblood slowly oozing out like black tar from his paling body, a form rushing off through a nearby hallway. Yet as devolved as these things were, even they knew that way was a dead end. They smiled horribly to each other, a smirk worthy of a barracuda spreading across their features as they raced down the hall, bolting as fast as they could, finally making their way towards the stupid little kid that was…
…slightly…flickering…in and out of existence. What in…?
That was when they realized they'd been tricked. A hologram!
"And then what?"
"After they've been fooled into rushing off, I want you to take care of them with suppressing fire to keep them off our back, as Finch takes care of the pillars." Noah insisted to Shepherd as he shouldered a high-powered assault rifle, patting the grip with a small smile.
"I'll take them down."
"We don't know how many there are. There could be others that we didn't get a chance to see. Just make it quick, then run for it, alright?"
"I understand. And Finch, remember to contact us on our communicators if we get into a SNAFU."
"What?"
"The situation's normal and NOT all f—ked up so far." Finch spoke over the communicator as Shepherd blasted away at the enormous group of transfigured customers. "How are you all doing?"
"I've forced them back and killed most of them…keyword "MOST"! They're right behind me." Shepherd cried out, racing back down the hallway, the snarling roars of the customers ringing through the air as he slung his assault rifle back over his shoulder, taking off across the room that had been filled up with the gas as Finch attached another specialized grenade loaded up with acid to yet another pillar within the basement of the antiques store. He wiped his brow slightly, hearing a roaring noise filling the air…the sound of other customers coming towards them?
Finally he attached the last one and stood up as Shepherd raced past him, Finch following after as he trigged the detonation switch.
Loud, roaring booms filled the air, along with the sizzling hiss of acid spraying as pillar after pillar as blown through with powerful caustic force. The screeching, snarling cries of the transformed monsters filled the gang's ears as Noah helped Lewis, Finch and Shepherd into the main store area, the front door barricaded and locked up as they all stood around, panting and heaving, Shepherd resting his hands on his knees.
For a long time, the rumbling roar of the collapsing pillars filled the air as they all nervously waited, none of them speaking, hoping that the basement had completely collapsed in on itself…and as the minutes dragged on, it seemed that their plan had worked. Silence reigned. No more shaking of the shop. No snarling hisses. No cries of pain echoing up from the ruined and wrecked passageway down to the basement.
They were home free…and, well…there WAS a cash register and a lot of tchotchkes and antiques lying around, a stark difference from the last time they'd been inside.
They couldn't waste the opportunity. Finch took one of his extra vials of acid, pouring through the register and opening it up as Lewis and Noah began pocketing antiques, Shepherd just frowning in disapproval at this as he turned to look at the front door…noticing it was shaking.
"Huh?"
Then it let out a loud BANG as someone tried to kick it down. All of them instantly froze in place, mouths snapping open as they whipped their heads at each other, then let out a simultaneous yell, trying to stuff as much goodies as they could into the pockets of their shirts, jackets and pants as Shepherd nervously stepped away from the front door of the store, assault rifle at the ready only to realize it was currently jammed.
"Damn it! I KNEW I should have taken this thing in to get fixed!" Shepherd cried out furiously, tossing the thing to the side as Finch stuffed money from the cash register into his back pants pocket, looking around at the others as the kicking at the door got more and more intense, all of them panicking and sweating profusely.
And as the door finally was busted open, Finch did something that was, in the context of the moment, understandable, but in retrospect, unbelievably dumb.
His hand shot into his jacket…and launched a vial of acid at the door…
As Themis the Quarian stepped inside with a small platoon of armed guards, the vial shattering against his helmeted face, the visor bathed over in caustic greenish liquid.
For a brief moment all of time had frozen, everyone else in the Tenth Street Reds all letting out a simultaneous "Noooo", eyes widening as the vial struck Themis in the face. For a few moments absolutely nothing seemed to exist in that moment but the total, horrifying realization that they were so, totally, utterly screwed.
"UAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!" Themis howled in agony, screeching in his echoey voice as Shepherd lowered his head and held it in his hands, groaning deeply.
"Ohhhhh. NOOOOOO."
"Fucking…fucking…you little BOSH'TET! I'm-GHUUAAAUUHHH!" Themis was howling and screeching, clawing at his burned, sizzled face as a hissing noise filled the air and the guardsman all GAPED at the sight of their boss falling to his knees, absolute agony filling every syllable. After all, this had been the last thing even Themis of the Cadre had been expecting.
"I thought it was more customers." Finch lamely mumbled, gulping nervously, adam's apple rising up and down as the Tenth Street Reds immediately whipped their heads in his direction.
"OBVIOUSLY FUCKING NOT!" Noah screamed out as they BOLTED past the guards, Shepherd leaping over the spasming quarian on the ground, all four of them racing down the alleyway, fleeing for their lives as Noah tugged at his hair. "We are so fucked! We are SO FUCKED! He's going to END us!"
"We don't DARE go back to headquarters, he'll track us down and END us." Lewis reasoned as they continued to bolt down the street, panting and heaving, sweat burning into their bodies as Shepherd wiped some off his forehead.
"Mr. McKay. He can help us. Themis doesn't know we're familiar with him and the guy lives alone…oh God, I hope he'll help us." Shepherd whispered softly.
…
…
…
…well, luckily for them, they had a few hours to pack up as much as they could before they took off for Mr. McKay's home. And luckier still, he was happy to have them hide out in their home. One by one they all set up within the old man's house, Shepherd crashing in what had been Lucas's son's room once upon a time, Mr. McKay chuckling a bit as the kid sat down on yellow faded sheets.
"Acid right in the face, huh? Pretty stupid."
"Yeah. Preeeeetty stupid." Shepherd sighed as McKay sat down on the bed next to him, patting his shoulder, the wrinkles of his face creasing a bit as he chuckled lightly, shaking his head back and forth. "We're lucky we got away. He was just so shocked. Thank God for small mercies…thank God you're letting us stay here." He added, pulling the light blue pillow on the bed to his chest, squeezing it slightly.
"Listen, you cannot show your face out there." Lucas insisted. "I've got some old military contacts who can deliver me some disguises that you can use. And I can get it delivered without customs checking it out too deeply."
"Really?"
"It helps to be an old war dog." Mr. Lucas McKay laughed, whacking Shepherd on the back as Shepherd let out an "oof", smiling back at the old man and laughing a bit himself as Lucas ruffled the kid's hair with a cheery grin. "And speaking of old war dogs…how'd you like to hear some more about Shanxi? Where did I leave off?"
"Oh, you were talking about how the Turians had taken Jack and Nick prisoner, and Ben had been turned into a monster."
"Just like the ones you saw today." Lucas whispered quietly, his tone becoming subdued and his eyes glazing over in disturbed memory. "…I remember when we brought Ben back to the camp. The one named Saren examined him, looking…frightened…yet his brother Desolas was fascinated. He wanted to take a closer look at him…and a closer look at Jack as well, who also appeared to have been affected by the relic."
"What happened to him? Did his body gain synthetic parts?"
"No…no, he changed, yes…but that was a long time after. Because whilst Ben and Jack were taken away, Nick and I were being taken prisoner with the rest of our platoon, and all of us feared for our lives…after all, the one we knew as Saren Arterius wasn't known for mercy."
"Did he…kill any of you?"
"Far from it. He actually released us."
"Wait, WHAT? Why?"
"Well…" Lucas chuckled a bit, steepling his slightly gnarled hands as he rubbed them together, licking his dry lips. "I'll begin how it always begins in good stories. It was a dark and stormy night…"