I am back! I know, I know, I haven't updated for a while and I'm even farther behind on Mass Effect: Fear the Old Blood. For that, I heartily apologize. I just haven't had the inspiration or time to write lately, and I'm stuck on a particularly hard part on the Bloodborne story. But! Fear not, for I'm trying my utmost to get back into the swing of things that I once had. So, to that end, I will do my utmost to buckle down and actually get the next chapters for both Scoundrels and the Bloodborne story written. In addition, I am releasing one of my wonderful lists: A List of Things the Magnificent Scoundrels Are No Longer Allowed to Do, both to try and stimulate my creativity and to tie you guys over in weeks I can't get a chapter out. My utmost apologies for the delays. Now, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
Fourteen Flames: Oh, indeed. The grimdark awaits, and it'll be here in three (count 'em, 3) chapters. I'm looking forward to it!
jacobdkidder: Yep. The scale of things is something I'm desperately trying to avoid putting actual numbers on (unless I can use it to my advantage, then I'll abuse it as much as I can). Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Vengou: Well, thank you. I'm glad there isn't too much of a 'glut' of chapters. Hopefully that makes things more interesting and readable, though I'd like to keep my schedule to every few weeks, as that seems like the optimal time. I know from my own experiences as both a writer and reader if there are too many chapters too soon it'll put people off as well as not enough. I'll try to find a good balance so long as everything else cooperates. As for Dead Space, I have not. I would probably include it if I did, but alas, I don't know anything about it and I already have enough characters running around. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
BonesofSmite: We'll find out how it ends here! (And Quill never has a plan: after all, if he doesn't know what he's doing, then they can't know what he's doing either!) There's more tension between the Scoundrels, and all the various biotics/mind readers/xenophiles/A.I.s are going to have to get resolved at some point. As for the other group... well, they have a few more members to add, then we can get to what they're up to. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of the story!
Guest: That is... actually an incredibly good idea. I might just have to incorporate it. I did not have any plans for it, but, in fact, that's such a good idea that I think I will. Thanks for the idea, and I hope you like what's to come!
Austin: Oh, yeah, Trazyn is having a blast right now. We'll see the dark side of 40k (and this new reality) soon enough, and after that, people will indeed start taking notice of each other. Thanks for the review: the best of luck to you as well, and I hope you enjoy what's to come!
Clare Prime of Ultra: Thank you! I like to keep up the humor no matter the situation everyone finds themselves in. I'm glad you enjoy Empyrean Iris; it's a great story, and really what got me into this idea. We will get hints of 40k coming up, you can count on that. As for Marvel, you do not need to do anything past Endgame, as that's where I left off as well. I think that everything past it is less interesting and a cash grab personally, but both because of that and because Endgame is a good jumping-off point, no one needs to know anything beyond it. As for the next mission, it's a humorous one, then we'll have a fun shore leave... and then I'll slap the readers and the peaceful characters in the face with a certain dark side of a certain human supremacist galactic empire... It'll be great! I hope you enjoy what's to come!
Ravenguard0009: I think Lord Cypher is going to keep things under wraps to prevent being tracked by the Unforgiven... unless it suits his purpose, of course. I'm still not sure if I should include Azrael and the Dark Angels or not. Things are going to boil over with the Imperium soon enough, even as much as everyone wants to keep a clear head. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
blazotony1: Thank you! I think the Systems Alliance and UNSC are actually rather similar, and probably would have ended up almost the same if they were in the same circumstances. We'll get to the diplomacy eventually: don't you worry! I hope you like what's to come!
Guest: That will be a long ways off, but visions of Arbiters fighting Emperor's Champions are not something I would pass up... I hope you enjoy the chapter and the rest of the story!
oOo
To Get to Know You
"I'll find you in the morning sun; And when the night is new; I'll be looking at the moon; But I'll be seeing you." -I'll Be Seeing You, written by Sammy Fain
oOo
"You stole a dreadnought?" Quill merely shrugged in reply from where they all stood on the bridge of his new behemoth ship.
"Yeah," he replied as if he had just gone out for a walk. Kirk facepalmed in reply. Solo and Vir were muttering to each other as they fiddled with wiring and controls. Cooper was looking around, bemused. Shepard and Drake looked like they were trying not to crack up. Cain and the Chief remained the stoic selves as they stood by the doorway.
"What are we going to do with it?" asked Shepard, recovering as she shot the question towards Quill. The man merely shrugged again.
"I dunno," he replied. "I was hoping you guys would know." Kirk stared at him as Shepard threatened to break into hysterics once more.
"Well, I suppose I do know a few people who would be very interested in getting their hands on an extra-galactic dreadnought," offered Drake, stepping forward. He caught a few looks from his comrades, and he shrugged in turn. "What? We're not going to use it, unless you guys want it for some reason." He shot a glance at Vir and Solo, still merrily working away.
"I agree," said Shepard. She turned to the others. "We're not going to use it, so if Drake can get rid of it, all the better." She was certain there would be quite a few people in her own galaxy salivating over the idea of looking through extra-galactic technology, but at the present moment, she really just didn't care. That was a headache she most definitely did not need. Still… "I mean, you could share with us anything you find, if it makes everyone feel better," she offered. Drake nodded.
"Very well. It's agreed then," he said, looking around. "I sell this thing, give you all the juicy schematics and a nice bonus, and that's that." Everyone looked around, nodding in agreement. (Save the Chief, of course, who was busy doing an excellent impression of a statue at the door.) "Good. Then after we're done here, I'll contact a friend, and we'll be one dreadnought's worth of cash richer." Save Solo, Vir, and Quill who were busy looking through the bridge, the rest of the commanders began to file out. "We can discuss in what form you'd prefer your payment. It'll be all non-taxed, of course, because taxes are evil, and if you do have any tax trouble, regarding this or otherwise, I'd be more than happy to… erm, help in that regard…"
"Why, Captain Drake, are you saying that you don't like taxes?" grinned Shepard teasingly. Drake spun towards her.
"That's exactly what I'm saying! You know who's listed as evil in the Bible right next to murders and prostitutes? Tax collectors. You know what most religions forbid? Taxes on the righteous. You know what the foundation of modern democracy, the American Revolution, was based on? Tax dodging." Drake crossed his arms and stared at the others, amused.
"Y'know, Captain, I think you're not giving the full theological views on taxes for most religions with those quick sentences right there," drawled Sarah Ordelphine, the Apocalypse's pilot, as she walked into the door. Drake turned to her, throwing a hand dramatically across his chest.
"I am shocked; shocked and hurt, dear Ordelphine, to hear that you support taxes," he said, jumping to extremes as a point of banter. Ordelphine rolled her eyes but smiled.
"Ordelphine," greeted Kirk. "Good to see you. What brings you here?"
"You guys just stole a dreadnought. I want to check it out," replied the pilot.
"Welcome to the party, then," said Vir from where he crouched near one of the control panels.
"This is quite the ship," remarked Ordelphine. "Very interesting - very interesting indeed."
"Good systems," muttered Solo, "But certainly not as fast as the Falcon." Ordelphine snorted.
"Boys and their toys. Anyone can fly a little fast ship like that," she replied. "It takes a bit more skill to fly something bigger, like a cruiser or dreadnought." Solo's head snapped around.
"Hey! I'm the best star pilot in the universe," he replied.
"In your dreams," fired back the Apocalypse's pilot.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" replied Vir. "Are we forgetting that I also fly a ship as big as this one?" He turned to Solo. "Besides, you may be the best pilot in your galaxy, but I'm the best pilot in mine." The good-natured but still exceptionally heated argument was interrupted by Drake's sigh.
"Ah, pilots," he stated languidly, rolling his eyes. He turned to the non-pilots in the room with a 'do you see what I have to deal with?' expression. "So hot-blooded. So predictable."
"Hey!" said Ordelphine, laughing.
"What do you mean?" demanded Solo. Drake widened his stance, crossing his arms and throwing on a cocky grin. Slowly, he ran a hand through his hair, then mimed putting on a pair of sunglasses.
"Why, yes, I am a pilot," he stated in an over-the-top silky, cocky, suave voice. "Yes, I love my aviator shades more than I love my wife. Yes, my favorite movie is Top Gun. Yes, my favorite song is Danger Zone. How did you possibly guess?" Vir blushed. Solo looked confused. Shepard, Cooper, and Ordelphine were cracking up behind Drake. "Of course, you realize that basically the entire universe revolves around me. Who transports interplanetary goods? That's right. Me. Who flies soldiers everywhere so they can fight? Me. Who swoops in from the wild blue-and-or-black yonder to save the day, every day? That's right. Me, me, and me. But, hey," Drake held up his hands, his entire posture still incredibly smug, "Enough about me. Let's talk more about me."
"Oh, come on!" protested Quill. "We do not act like that!" He turned to Shepard, who was doubled over, clutching one of the control panels, her face doing a rather credible imitation of a tomato as she tried to regain composure. Cain was grinning; the most emotion he'd shown for a while, whereas the Chief was as statuesque as ever. "What? C'mon!"
"Okay, you have to at least admit we're not that bad," said Vir, face still slightly red.
"Mmmm, not sure," said Drake, pretending to ponder the question.
"That… that was great," said Shepard, finally straightening out. "You must have been a ground-pounder at some point." Drake grinned.
"Indeed I was. A long time ago."
"Marines?" asked Shepard, hoping for some shared extra-galactic camaraderie. Drake looked at her, disgusted.
"Army, you know, the ones who actually do work instead of being the Navy's glorified bodyguards," he replied. Shepard snorted.
"We're better and you know it… But at least we actually do work." Drake grinned.
"Oh, undoubtedly, Commander. Undoubtedly."
"Well, if you two are finally done comparing how much inferior you are to us pilots, can we finally finish going over this?" asked Vir, gesturing to the control panels behind him.
"Of course," replied Drake cheerfully. He nodded and stepped out, Shepard, Cain, and the Chief following him. As they walked out, Ordelphine spoke up.
"Now, Cooper. Question. You're a Titan Pilot. Do you consider yourself a pilot, or a soldier?" Cooper gave one last 'get me out of here look' before Drake, Shepard, and Cain grinned at him, closing the door and leaving him to his fate.
oOo
With all present missions completed, the various commanders and crew returned to their designated ships. It had been quite the interesting learning experience for all involved. Some questions were answered, some missions led to even more questions. Regardless, all of them walked out of the missions with something more than they went in with, though whether that was a good thing or not was still a question in itself.
Regardless, the end result was familiarity with each other. While perhaps cautious in some cases, the realization of most was the simple fact that they had many things in common. They grabbed onto those similarities and ran with them as best they could.
Many were from facets of life: soldiers, pilots, engineers, or even simple curiosity over new people. While doubts and misgivings still remained, most were now much friendlier with each other, and would cautiously approach the denizens of other vessels to simply ask what life was like in their home reality.
Of course, soldiers being soldiers, the most immediate curiosity was weaponry and technology from other realities. Soon enough, troops and crew were cautiously asking their newfound comrades about their gear.
The fleet was, at the present moment, simply floating in space, taking stock of things. It was relatively easy to take a shuttle or one of the Enterprise's strange teleporters to another ship. Though most were wary about the latter, it was now a slightly more common sight to see new faces aboard ships so long as they got permission from the commanders.
Within the hangar of the Apocalypse, a monthly collection of troops were gathered under the watchful eye of Saul, who was presently leaning against a wall, arms crossed. He stated he was there 'to prevent anyone from blowing up the ship and other shenanigans', canceling a few of the troops more… exciting plans, but they'd take what they could get.
"So. Lasguns," began Ramirez excitedly, turning to Sergeant Grifen of the Valhallan 597th. The rest of the soldiers were looking over at her with expressions between awe and excitement. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Yes. Lasguns," she deadpanned in reply. Honestly, what was the big deal with laser weapons? Solo had them, Solo's galaxy had them, and there were laser weapons here and there throughout most of the other realities. What was such a big deal about a normal lasgun?
Now, bolters or plasma guns she could understand, but lasguns? Everyone had them. They were the normal weapon of the Guard for a reason: cheap, easy to use, and easy to mass-produce.
Besides, why not get Solo to talk about laser weapons? Why her? Grifen didn't understand it.
"Yes, lasguns. Tell us more about lasguns," begged Tali from where she stood. The Imperial looked a bit hesitantly at the aliens around her, but… if Cain and the officers trusted them, it couldn't hurt to at least show them how their guns worked, right? It could help, and it wasn't like they were giving them away.
"Ok, lasguns," sighed Grifen, slightly amused. She hefted her own bulky, black embossed weapon to show it to everyone surrounding her. The golden Imperial eagle glinted menacingly in the bright hanger light. "This is a Mars Pattern Lasgun, one of the most common variants found throughout the galaxy. Lasguns are built around the same principles, and most do exactly the same thing, some with some slight modifications."
Everyone stared at the weapon as if it were the most interesting thing in existence. It was a very heavy rifle, black and blocky, embossed with Imperial symbols and overall rather simple in design. The Imperium did not design weapons to look sleek or refined, but rather brutal. A weapon doing its job was far more important than aesthetic for them.
"Lasguns are the standard-issue weapon of most forces throughout the Imperium, and are easy to use, produce, and maintain." Grifen looked around, making sure that everyone was listening. They all were, standing and staring at the weapon with rapt attention. "It uses a small portable capacitor power pack," she detached the weapon's magazine, "To produce a focused pinpoint laser beam." She held up a hand to forestall the ocean's worth of questions about to pour in. "Now, before you ask, I'm not really sure how it works. I don't make 'em, I only use 'em."
"But you have to know something," begged Tali, always interested in new technologies. Behind her, Ramirez, Sunny, Garrus, Zaeed, Chekov, and a few dozen more soldiers were all nodding in agreement. Grifen stifled a smile: they were acting like small children begging their teacher to tell them something interesting. Her smile actually made it on her face when she noticed Saul in the background, watching intently, valiantly pretending and failing at looking disinterested.
"Well, I'm just a soldier, not a scientist," she replied. "Besides, the Mechanicus doesn't like anyone else knowing how their toys work."
"What's the Mechanicus?" asked Ramirez, curious. The others continued to listen with rapt attention.
"The Adeptus Mechanicus is the organization that makes and controls all Imperial technology," replied Grifen. "They're… weird." There was no other way to put it. Even Grifen, even Cain was freaked out by the Tech-Priests. Those not from her reality… Well, maybe it was best not to elaborate. "And they really, really hate it when people start poking around their intellectual property." The others shared a few glances. Well, that explained a few things. It wasn't really the Valhallans, then, who were reluctant to share their gear. It seems they couldn't do anything about it.
Eh, soldier's life. They all understood, disappointed they might be.
"Anyway," continued Grifen, "Lasgun. Standard-issue Imperial weapon. Shoots lasers from the power pack, the power packs are pretty easy to recharge with any sort of power, including solar." Another interesting tidbit. It seemed these things could run nearly perpetually. No wonder the Imperium used them so much. "But enough about lasguns. What about the weaponry from the rest of your galaxies?"
"Well, you showed us your stuff, so it's only fair we show you ours," replied Ramirez cheekily. Grifen shot him a glance as the others began to unpack their own weaponry. "The biggest question behind laser guns," continued the marine softly, looking interestedly at the crew of the Normandy, "Is how your weapons work, and fold." The Normandy crewmen did indeed unfold their weapons, snapping them into place from where they were almost bent double. It was an interesting and handy-looking trick.
"These are all mass-accelerated weapons," said Zaeed gruffly, stepping forward and showing off his extended rifle. "There are small bricks of metal in the center of the weapon, and the gun shaves off part of the metal and uses it as a projectile. The weapon uses element zero to lighten the projectile and propel it at extremely high speeds, where it squashes and shatters on impact." He gave a glance at Grifen. "Kinda like lasguns, ammunition isn't really a problem due to the small size of the projectiles and the internal block of material. The biggest concern is heat, so we have special heat sinks to store excess heat that builds up." He tilted the rifle, showing off the chip on the side where a magazine might be located on a bullet-firing weapon.
"So how are they able to fold?" asked Grifen curiously.
"Due to the block of ammunition, and not needing a large firing chamber, you can fold it in half," replied Garrus. "It's easier to carry and use." A series of nods greeted that information.
"What about you, Saul? Does your galaxy have anything interesting?" asked Sunny, turning to the Apocalypse armsman. Saul unglued himself from where he stood and strode over.
"Compared to laser and advanced electromagnetic weapons, not particularly," he shrugged in reply. "We have bullets, for the most part. However…" He frowned, thinking. "There are a few advanced weapon systems that we have that aren't really found in most places. Garang has a 20mm cannon to go with her power armor, and the captain…" Saul moved over to a series of crates, rummaging around in them for a moment before apparently finding what he was looking for. With a small cry of triumph, he pulled out a strange-looking weapon.
It was made of chrome, shining silver in the hangar's bright lights. The stock, pistol-style grip and center of the weapon were all things that could be found on a normal rifle of any of their galaxies, the only difference being the chrome. However, the strangest part of the gun were the triple barrels it sported, as well as a strange port on its side that glowed a bizarre blue-violet.
"What's that?" asked Sunny and Tali at exactly the same time. The Drev grinned, amused, while the Quarian flushed. Saul hefted the gun so everyone could see.
"This is an X-45 Plasma Destroyer," said the mercenary soldier proudly. "Absolute top-of-the-line in plasma weaponry, and the only fully automatic plasma weapon in our galaxy. The captain uses one, and we have a few more we use in… dangerous situations." Those surrounding Saul stared at the chrome-plated weapon in awe. A plasma gun. A real-life plasma gun. Now that was something utterly unheard of in all of their galaxies.
"How does it work?" asked Tali, nearly vibrating through the floor with excitement. Saul shrugged.
"Don't know, unfortunately," he said in reply. "That would be a question for the engineers." Tali nodded excitedly, certain to be visiting the Apocalypse's engineers within the near future.
"What about you, Chekov?" drawled Garrus, turning towards the head of the Enterprise's security. "What sort of weapons do you have?"
"We have phasers," replied the Russian security chief. He drew his own gun from his belt and held it up. "They use nadion particles, which are artificially-generated energy particles. When plasma is passed through them, they emit an energy beam." He turned the short, squad pistol over. "The great thing about phasers is they have different settings, and so can be used to stun, or in some cases as tools to cut through things."
"So… are those plasma weapons too?" asked Grifen, tilting her head.
"Well, they use plasma power, but I would say they're energy weapons, as they fire beams rather than plasma bolts like Saul's weapon over there," replied Chekov, nodding towards the triple-barreled chrome gun in Saul's hands.
"Makes sense," nodded Grifen. She found the idea of non-lethal weapons stupid, but she wasn't going to say anything.
"I wish the Chief could come," muttered one of the redshirts dejectedly. "He has so many cool weapons on him."
"Yeah," agreed Ramirez. "We also have to get Cooper to explain Titans and the stuff from his galaxy." The others murmured their agreement.
"Still, it was really interesting to see all of this new stuff!" said Tali excitedly, rocking back and forth with enthusiasm on her two-toed feet. "We should do this more often." There were a few chuckles at that.
"Agreed," replied Chekov. Thus it was arranged the group would meet to talk about the various technologies and gear from their home realities, and perhaps someday get the commanders to join them.
oOo
The next step of said commanders to get their crews more accompanied to each others' presences without trying to take each others' heads off was a stroke of genius. No one was quite sure who initially came up with the idea, but they all adopted it with enthusiastic gusto.
The idea was wondrous. Glorious. Joyous. Sublime. Perfect.
And so it was on a night cycle that the occupants of most of the vessels found themselves once more within the Apocalypse's massive hangar, this time with all crates, weapons, gunships, and one Vanguard-class Titan moved to the side. The various crew members had been instructed to equipment to make themselves comfortable: blankets, pads, rations and the like.
Cross-cultural exchange was necessary, and the commanders had deemed movie night the perfect solution.
It was deemed that each group would decide on a movie to play, and would rotate on an even basis. After one group got their turn, the next would go and so on until it reverted back to the original group.
Thus the troopers found themselves sprawled throughout the Apocalypse's main hangar, sitting on their coats or various military equipment. They were largely grouped into their own commands and galaxies, though the commanders were happy to see they did freely intermingle.
Among the gray-blues of the Valhallans, the drap grays of the Apocalypse's armsmen, the reds and blues of the Enterprise and the blues of the Omen's marines, the crews of the Normandy and Milano stood out as wild specks of color. The Omen's Drev towered above the humans of the crowd; amusing, some of their human crewmates were perched on their backs for a better viewing position. BT-7274 was the tallest of them all, crouched in a corner, his cockpit hatch open with Cooper merrily watching the going-ons beneath him. No one had seen the Chief; the super-soldier in question was standing in the back, against the wall, perfectly invisible even though he was in the open.
The first choice was from the crew of the Omen. Their pick: a human military classic, mocked by the infantrymen and popular with the pilots. Top Gun was not a powerhouse showcase of modern technology to most of them, being set when humanity's only spaceflight was going to the moon, but it was pretty popular nevertheless. The pilots had been wildly enthusiastic about the film, while the ground troops had enjoyed the military movie and gotten quite a kick out of making fun of the pilots.
All in all, it went well. The commanders were delighted over the fact their idea worked, and they may or may not have excitedly chattered like a group of schoolchildren in a nearby hall afterwards. The crews seemed to love it, and it was entertaining, and the next day the men of the Valhallan 597th played a game of shirtless volleyball against the Omen's marines much like the one in the movie while the women watched appreciatively, so things seemed to be working.
The next choice was that of the Apocalypse, and theirs was an entirely different film altogether. None of the other commanders had ever seen American Psycho, but it proved to be an extraordinarily popular choice, given the soldiers' propensity for pitch-black humor. Throughout every ship for about the next week, overly chipper cries of "Hey Paul!" and "I've got to return some video tapes" could be heard thrown about.
The choice after that belonged to the crew of the Normandy, which had actually taken some agonizing over. There had been several meetings amongst the crew on the subject. Jack had snorted and stormed off, Miranda had been annoyed the whole time every time, and Thane and the older, more serene crewmembers had watched with amusement as everyone argued over what to watch.
The issue was that most of the popular movies in their reality probably wouldn't translate well to the others, especially not the Imperials. One of the favorites was Fleet and Flotilla, a romantic musical about a Turian falling in love with a Quarian. Shepard already knew the Imperials would probably mutiny if they ever got wind of that. Though, again, it was an alien with an alien, not a human with an alien, so they might not care, but still. She didn't want to risk it.
There was Blasto the Hanar Spectre, about a Hanar becoming a Council Spectre… but if you didn't know what either of those things were and why they were so funny put together you probably wouldn't understand the point of the movie.
Eventually, Garrus had spoken up and suggested a popular Turian war movie - all Turians, no one else involved. It had given everyone else pause.
That… might not be a bad idea. Those who had happened to see Die for the Cause, the movie Garrus had suggested, highly recommended it, and those that haven't were interested in seeing it, especially considering it was a Turian movie.
Of course, it was aliens, but Shepard had quickly decided that if the Imperials couldn't deal with it, that was their problem. She'd been respectful enough to stay away from anything that might unduly upset them, but if merely having aliens in a movie, or having a movie about aliens crossed that line, that was their problem.
So, with a bit of nerves hoping everyone would like their choice and a bit of righteous indignation in case they didn't, Shepard had pulled up Die for the Cause and everyone had settled in.
The movie turned out to be a success. Shepard and her crew ought to have known a war movie would go over well, especially one as well-put together as the one they'd shown. Shepard even caught a few Imperial troopers asking Garrus questions about Turians and Palaven, their homeworld. She smiled at that.
The next choice was the Imperials, and it was one that everyone else was silently anxious about. What exactly would an Imperial movie be like? Was it going to just be some straightforward propaganda piece? Would the Imperials take this as an opportunity to strut out something where they tried to show how superior they were, or, perhaps worse, try to convince others to take their side?
Therefore, it was with trepidation that most of the non-Imperials sat within the Apocalypse's hangar on the next movie night. Shepard had shot a nervous glance to the closest commander, Vir, who returned to the look.
However, as it turned out, they didn't have anything to be concerned about.
Battlefleet Gothic was a war epic about, as the name suggested, an Imperial Navy fleet operating during what they called the Gothic War.
Bluntly, it was fantastic.
Oh, yeah, the movie obviously had exceptionally pro-Imperial views, but no one could argue it wasn't like any military movies that came from their home galaxies. Indeed, Top Gun had been pro-American, and no one really saw any difference with Battlefleet Gothic. It told its story, and told it well.
To help, perhaps, the enemy in the movie weren't aliens, but rather the 'Forces of Chaos', whatever those were, led by a figure mentioned only as the Despoiler. Interestingly, the movie never really showed them onscene besides shapes, shadows, and suggestions, but somehow the filmmakers had managed to make that work in their favor. It made the enemy even more terrifying, not less, and the scenes of carnage they left behind were enough to shock even the soldiers from other realities.
After the movie, several of the other commanders had asked Cain who, exactly, were the forces of Chaos and why they weren't shown on-screen. Cain had darkly replied that the forces of Chaos were a very real and very persistent threat to the Imperium and there was a very good reason why nothing was shown. He wouldn't say anything else.
With that… cheerful tidbit out of the way, they continued on as per usual. Honestly, Battlefleet Gothic was one of the more popular choices and everyone was eager to see what would be up next. So far, not one of the movies shown hadn't hit its mark.
It was Quill and the Milano's choice next. As it was, the vast majority of any outside entertainment on the ship came from Quill. Sure, Rocket and Drax had surfed through what various forms of entertainment could be pulled up aboard the ship, and Rocket had gotten to know some human media in the years the others had been… gone while he was on Earth, but Quill was the true expert.
His first, instinctive choice was Footloose, but he figured that might not go over as well as some of the others, considering the crowd. He'd gone over some of the movies he'd remembered from his childhood on Earth, consulted (argued) with his friends, and eventually they'd settled on one.
Raiders of the Lost Ark had gone over well with the men, despite not being as serious or dark as some of the others, but had led to… the present situation.
"I do not look anything like Harrison Ford!" protested Han loudly.
"But you do," insisted Cooper. The other commanders were clustered around Solo, peering at his face speculatively.
"I do not!" insisted Solo. He turned, exasperated, at Quill. "Quill, please, tell them I don't look like the guy who played Indiana Jones!"
"I don't see it, guys," agreed Quill, still looking intently at Solo's face and posture.
"Thank you!" cried Solo. He whirled around to the others. "See? I mean, how could I look anything like some guy that isn't from my reality that's been dead for millennia in a few of yours?"
"No, you look exactly like him," noted Vir carefully. "Like… identical to him." Drake made a noise of agreement.
"Yeah, sorry, Solo, but you do look uncannily like Harrison Ford." The Apocalypse's captain held up his hands to forestall further protests. "It's not a bad thing! It's just weird."
"Oh, come on!" Solo whirled around to the others. "You guys agree with me, right? My hair's longer, my face is fuller, no stubble…" Cain merely grinned and shrugged as if he didn't want to get involved. Shepard was muttering with Cooper and Vir. Kirk looked like he couldn't make up his mind. The Chief remained as still and statuesque as ever.
"Okay, time for a girl to take a look," said Shepard authoritatively, stepping forward to peer at Solo's face. The Falcon's captain felt like he was in some sort of medical examination, but apart from rolling his eyes he let the others look closer at his face, if only to try and prove them wrong.
Shepard moved this way and that, taking in every angle. At one point, she even moved his jaw to the left to take a better look in the light. Solo rolled his eyes even harder, causing his comrades to smirk, much to his annoyance. Finally, Shepard stepped back and crossed her arms.
"You look exactly like Harrison Ford." The Normandy's commander announced the verdict with glee. Solo threw up his arms again.
"I do not!"
"Well, Shepard said so, so you do," informed Vir with a shit-eating grin. Solo glowered at him.
"And why should her opinion have more worth than my own?" he demanded.
"Because I have a lady's touch," replied Shepard, unable to keep a rather similar-looking grin off her own face. "Besides, you even have a little scar on your chin in the same area he does." Solo's hand flew towards his chin.
"Got it growing up on Corellia," he muttered to himself, rubbing it absent-mindedly. He turned back to Shepard. "And how did you know? Most people don't even notice!"
"I'm something of an expert on scars," replied Shepard flippantly, automatic in her teasing. The others grinned alongside her. They missed a flash of something in Drake's eyes at her words, and continued down the hallway, teasing each other about people they looked similar to.
Movie night, it seemed, was a big hit.
After the Milano's choice came the Chief's, but the Chief didn't choose. He succinctly stated that he was only one person, and he wasn't really one for movies anyway. The others let it go without pushing, though the crew of the Enterprise was rather disappointed.
In truth, the Chief didn't know what a movie was before this. Oh, sure, he knew what videos were, how they were made, and that civilians watched them for entertainment, but the only film he'd ever watched were messages and training videos. Cortana had been supremely annoyed with him until he'd gone quiet, upset and frustrated. She immediately switched to comforting him. The idea that someone could do something for fun besides sparring or checking weapons was completely alien to the Chief due to his super-soldier upbringing.
Still, he liked the movies, especially Battlefleet Gothic and Die for the Cause. Those had entertained him. The other films he didn't understand as well, but it was interesting to learn more about how the others thought and acted, and Cortana was pleased with his being there, so he continually found himself showing up instead of staying in his room and checking his guns.
The Enterprise took up from where the Chief left off. They presented a film from the Federation called Into Eternity about humanity going beyond Earth and into the stars. It was less dramatic than the others, but more moving. It was quite interesting to see how humans from the Enterprise's galaxy had first explored the stars, and the film did an excellent job of portraying it. Another hit to add to the list.
Solo chose an adventure film called Smuggler's Run about a group of outlaws on a predictable one last heist. It was an entertaining, fun movie that everyone enjoyed thanks to the massive depiction of starships, weapons, planets, and species from Han's home galaxy. Everyone got a good insight into both his reality and the smuggler himself.
Cooper was the last chooser before the cycle repeated once more. Sticking by the tried and true theme of military history, he chose a war movie from his home galaxy called Titan Wars. It was more action than most of the others, but it was still very popular and quite informative about Titans and how militaries worked where the Pilot was from. Cooper got his own share of questions after that, which he was more than happy to answer. The others reflected that it must be incredibly lonely for him and the Chief to be the only people from their respective homes, something they endeavored to rectify in the future.
Amusingly, BT also got a share of questions, and while the Titan was unfailingly informative and polite, he seemed rather flummoxed over the newly-found hordes of people wanting to talk to him.
All things considered, movie night was a hit.
oOo
As Peter Quill walked out of the shuttle that returned him and his crew from the Apocalypse to the Milano, he reviewed the latest events the misaligned group he was now a part of had put on. Movie night had been pretty fun, actually: he was merely thankful his crew didn't get too vocally enthusiastic about any of the films. That would have been awkward.
None of the movies were Footloose, but they were pretty good nevertheless. Quill was more of a fan of lighthearted films, so the war and dark humor movies weren't exactly his forte, but at the very least he'd enjoyed learning more about the various other realities. Besides, his crew liked movie night, so what more could he want?
Groot and Mantis had gone ahead, and Drax and Rocket were chatting animatedly, both bumping into Quill as they walked past him. The human rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. They weren't doing it maliciously, though they were both incredibly unobservant of their surroundings and loved annoying him to no end.
Any annoyance he had at them was immediately dissipated as the shuttle's last occupant stepped out.
Gamora brushed by him, as elegant, purposeful, and graceful as ever. Quill would certainly never call her beautiful to her face (she'd probably kick him somewhere he really didn't want to be kicked), but he could do so in his head. But, hey, she was, and her trained assassin's grace only served to emphasize that fact.
"Hey, Gamora," said Quill quickly, unable to wipe a stupid grin off his face. Gamora turned around.
"Hey," she replied, her own small smile flashing in return. She leaned towards him, and Quill was almost breathless as she casually slipped her hand in his. Of her own accord.
He looked down at it, then looked back up to her with a smile.
Peter wasn't quite sure what was going to happen. Despite things mellowing out amongst the fleet, he was sure there was going to be some villain to stand up among all their realities at some point. Things were going to heat up.
Indeed, he wasn't exactly sure about what was going on right now, between him and Gamora. It was… some unspoken thing, but to him, that was about as perfect as it could be.
oOo
"Hey Garrus," grinned Shepard as she stepped into Normandy's hall after one rather successful movie night. The tall Turian looked down at her, the scar covering the right side of his face twisting in the light of the ship. Something twisted in her stomach at the sight of them: not disgust, like some others might have seen at the sight of such terrible scarring on a face, but rather something else, some emotion she really didn't want to think about.
"Shepard," he replied in acknowledgement, his dual-toned voice making it sound almost like purring. The commander also ignored the rather similar feeling at that. Not a good time; maybe never a good time.
Anyway.
"What do you think of the movies so far, Garrus?" As good a question as any to start out the conversation. That's what all the talk had been about recently. The tall Turian turned back towards her.
"I… er, I really enjoy them," he stammered. Jane grinned to herself. Garrus was simultaneously the most suave, confident, and badass person she knew alongside one of the most awkward put-your-foot-in-your-mouth people she knew (maybe not as bad as Tali, but still there). Honestly, she found it incredibly endearing. (Adorable… handsome… stop.) "It's interesting to get to know more about the different galaxies… and humans," he added. This was accompanied by a grin. "Besides, Die for the Cause is a favorite of mine. Probably is to Turian boys what Fleet and Flotilla is to Tali." He winked.
The wink did not help Shepard's internal thoughts and emotions. It took an effort to shrug it off.
"What about you?" asked the Turian.
"I really did like Die for the Cause," replied Shepard automatically, trying and failing to not dwell on the wink. "Though the other ones were pretty good too. I actually don't think I've seen any of them before." Garrus looked down at her with a fake scandalized expression that couldn't hide his grin.
"Well, it seems we need to get you more up to date," he said with another grin. There was some sort of warm feeling somewhere in Shepard's abdomen she tried not to think about.
"I'd like that," replied Shepard, "And I think it'll be good for the crew to bond." She desperately needed to put Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel into the forefront and move anything else to the side. Focus on her crew was usually a good catalyst for that.
In reply, Garrus nodded again.
"That sounds like a good idea." He made a face. "Though I'm not sure we could get Jack or Miranda to join us…" Shepard laughed at that.
"We'll try anyway," she stated. She smiled up at the Turian. "Have a good night, Garrus. Sleep well." For whatever reason, his eyes widened and he seemed to stumble over her words.
"Oh, er… You too, Shepard," he replied with a nod. Shepard turned and walked towards her quarters, determined not to look back at Garrus, because if she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to look away.
oOo
Sunny stood within her quarters, deep in the Omen's bowels. They were spacious, as benefitted a Drev, but additionally so to provide enough space for all of Sunny's engineering projects. Oh, she wasn't a mechanic or the sort of engineer that kept the ship running; she didn't know engines and reactors and temperature controlling like they did, but what she did know was weaponry.
Most of what she worked on here was personal weapons, though she was the Omen's weapon officer, so there were gunnery systems blueprints laying strewn around the workbench. Designs for spears with more advanced metallurgy, human machine guns whose grips were tinkered to fit larger Drev hands, and pieces of advanced plate armor all lay in their places, organized neatly beside her workbench.
She was in the midst of looking over one of the ship's gunnery plans when the soft hiss of the door opening sounded behind her. Sunny turned, wondering who it might be. The only ones with her door codes besides herself were her brother, the doctors, Maverick, Rameriz, and Adam.
A shock of blond hair and a very familiar figure and gait immediately told her it was Adam. She stopped what she was doing and stepped towards him. He grinned at her, and something inside her softened at the now-familiar expression.
"Hey, Sunny," he said, the same grin on his face, and the Drev reflected on how much she enjoyed the way he said her name.
"Adam," she replied softly, with her own smile. In reply, Adam took another step and wrapped his arms around her. Sunny froze for a moment, less out of surprise but more like the stillness of someone who'd just had a rare bird land on their shoulder and didn't want to scare it off. Slowly, she returned the gesture.
Over the many years spent with them, Sunny had found humans not only enjoyed but needed physical contact of some sort. Oh, sure, Drev had physical gestures like hugs, but humans were… cuddly in a way she couldn't really understand but nevertheless greatly appreciated. She enjoyed being hugged by Adam. Besides, according to him, he enjoyed the gesture right back. Apparently, being bigger and having four arms meant for great hugs.
Looking down at Adam, nearly covered and swaddled by her arms, she could see why. Sunny grinned.
"And what's got you so happy?" asked Adam cheerfully, looking back up at her with a warm but cocky grin. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly; a familiar silent banter between the two of them.
"You," she answered truthfully. Adam blushed beet red. Sunny grinned to herself. It was so very easy to fluster him.
She liked it when he was flustered. It made him more handsome.
They were silent for a moment, holding on to each other. Adam was lost in thought, and Sunny was content with merely watching him. Eventually, Adam turned to her.
"You know, this is what I've wanted, and done, my whole life," he said softly.
"What do you mean?" asked Sunny, tilting her head. Adam gave a small laugh.
"This," he said, gesturing around vaguely. "I mean, exploring. Exploring space, getting to know new people, new planets, new species… and now, new realities." One green eye peered up at Sunny. "I guess there was a part of me that never thought I'd get here, and," this part was said with a laugh, "I never thought I'd actually run into people from different realities or that it'd be this… complicated." Sunny nodded wordlessly. She understood. She felt the same.
Sunny was never the dreamer in the same way Adam was, but sometimes she'd look up into the night sky of her home planet and simply wonder what it would be for life to be different.
But now life was different. Better. She was still with her own people, but unbound from the past and dark traditions that weighed heavily on her. Her brother was here, and she had new friends.
And she had Adam.
"I'm glad you're here," she said suddenly, slightly surprised at herself as if the words had come from nowhere. She normally was the more quiet and reserved one, teasing Adam for all his insane stunts (and having eight other insane humans to help him along those lines was not helping). Yes, she had been the one to initiate this relationship, but still.
Adam looked up at her, eyes wide and surprised. Sunny wrapped her arms around him again. She knew that look only too well.
Neither she nor Adam had good memories of anything bordering on romantic or any sort of relationships with people their own age. Oh, yes, Adam had his family and Sunny hers, and apart from Sunny's mother she tried very much not to think about, they were everything a family could ever be.
But growing up had been hard for both of them, Adam for his instant dreaming of seeing the stars, and Sunny for the fact she was much smaller and weaker than most Drev. Peers were something both of them had been leery of, and relationships even moreso.
Adam was here, though, in her arms, and it felt like he belonged there.
"I'm glad to be here," replied Adam softly, leaning into her chest. Sunny relished the moment. "And no matter what, I won't let anyone hurt you, or this."
She immediately knew who Adam was referring to. The Imperials were nice enough, and slowly warming up to the Omen and the aliens aboard, but this… She didn't think they'd tolerate this.
But that didn't matter. Right now, Adam was here, and that was all she cared about
oOo
Ringing boots sounded through the empty halls of the Omen's troop quarters as two Imperial officers strode through the blank corridors. Colonel Regina Kasteen's red hair trailed down to her shoulders, framing her extraordinarilyy pale face. Her second-in-command, Major Ruput Broklaw, strode beside her, wiping a bit of sweat off his own equally pale face. Valhallans didn't do well in temperatures above twenty degrees Celsius.
"How are things with the men?" asked Kasteen, breaking the silence.
"They're doing well," replied Broklaw. He gave a slight grin. "I'm sure the engineering crew are having a fit about the cooling system in our sector." Kasteen grinned at that. Growing up surrounded by ice and snow one's entire life put them liking a much different temperature than most humans.
"And their interactions with the ship's crew?" continued Kasteen.
"Fine," replied the major. "Cain and the other officers are maintaining discipline, and there haven't been any incidents. It's just…" Broklaw trailed off, frowning. Kasteen waited, knowing her second was gathering his thoughts. "They keep… looking at us like that," said Broklaw softly, frowning. Kasteen matched her second's expression sympathetically.
"I know." And she did.
We don't trust you. We hate you. We hate you for being rightfully suspicious. We hate you for not following our whimsical, heretical, awful ways. We hate you for serving humanity first. We hate you for not blindly throwing in your lot with heretics. We hate you because you know the truth, and obey the Emperor.
The looks. The stares. The attitudes. All directed at them. Herself she could deal with. But the others… It made her blood boil when they looked at her men like that. They were her men and she would be damned to the deepest depths of the Eye of Terror if she didn't care that they treated her men like that. They were under her protection. She was their colonel!
She also despised it when they looked at Cain or the senior officers of the regiment the same way. It was true that the command staff of the 597th was incredibly close, closer than most senior officers were. Hells, the fact that everyone, from herself to trooper, saw Cain as one of the regimental commanders was almost unheard of. Commissars were usually there to keep the peace and ensure the men actually fought in battle, distrusted but respected or feared.
Cain, on the other hand, had never been anything except the most helpful, genuine, brave, loyal, inspiring man Kasteen had ever seen. He'd put it all on the line for them, for her even, countless times. When two regiments, one all-male, one all-female, had first been thrown together, they were at the verge of tearing themselves apart. Quite literally the only reason they weren't a penal battalion right now was because of Cain. That didn't even go into everything else. Him vouching for her, an inexperience, undertrained, female regimental commander, him killing daemons, fighting off frakkin' World Eater Marines, sending troopers back for medical help when it meant he'd be down men and any other Commissar would have left them to die, that whole business with Commissar Beije…
And Broklaw. Originally, Broklaw had hated her, admittedly rightfully so. He had been the more experienced officer and should have had rightful command of the regiment when the two regiments had merged into one, but her commander had been eaten three days before his, granting her seniority. He'd been sullen and resentful, but that had gone quickly and was behind them now. The two of them were now the closest of friends, supporting and trusting each other explicitly.
Everything was in a tizzy in Kasteen's brain. She hated the way the other groups treated them for wanting to put humanity first. Why? But they weren't like the Tau supporters. The other crews actually wanted to get to know them and tried to like them. But still. They did not want humanity first; in fact, it often seemed to her that they wanted humanity last.
She (Kasteen couldn't speak for all the Imperials; if the Black Templars, Sororitas, or a like-minded group were here instead of the 597th the others would be already dead) didn't hate aliens on principle: she hated them because they hated her. Hurt her. Ate her men and women kicking and crying and screaming in front of her…
She shook her head to snap out of her thoughts and turned back to Broklaw. She could see the same thoughts running through his mind.
"There's nothing we can do," she continued, trying (and probably failing) to sound reassuring. Yes, it would pass for the troopers, but not for Broklaw. He knew her too well. "We just keep doing what we're doing, and hope maybe we can learn more or knock some sense into some of them." Broklaw grinned at that.
"Sounds like a plan, Regina," he replied. They reached the end of the hall, Kasteen's quarters on one side and Broklaw's on the other. "Good night," he finished warmly with a respectful nod of his head.
"Good night, Ruput," she replied, turning into her own quarters. She sighed. Today hadn't actually been that bad, she knew. No one had gotten anyone pregnant (that she knew), no one had driven a Chimera transport into a river, the ship hadn't crashed, and no one had been eaten by Tyranids. All in all, a good day. She was just tired.
Everyone said a commanding officer's life was a lonely one, but in Regina Kasteen's experience, that had never been the case. She was close friends with all the other officers and the regimental commissar. She knew them. Trusted them, and they felt the same about her. She had Cain, Broklaw, Detoi, and even the more… overzealous Federer and Sulla to back her up. They were all good officers. They'd get through whatever came their way, because even if the crews from other realities didn't like them or have their backs, they were brothers and sisters, and they had each other.
oOo
"I think Shepard, Vir, and Quill are in love with their alien seconds, there are more A.I.s than just BT, there's still tension but it's getting better, but due to all these things we're about to have a hammer dropped on us and I don't like it." Saul, Garang, and Rilgaldis stared up at Captain Drake from where the trio were busily cleaning their weapons. Their black-coated commander had thrown the words out of the blue as he was checking over his own plasma gun and pistol with his company commanders.
"Sir…" Garang's voice trailed off as she stared at the other two armsmen commanders. "How do you know… any of that? What makes you think any of that?"
"Because I'm a convenient manner of plot exposition, summary, and foreshadowing," replied Drake, deadpan, staring at her. Garang rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you say, sir," she replied snarkily. It would be unheard of for most officers to reply to a superior that way, but, firstly, Drake was their friend, secondly, they were all mercenaries, not in the military, and thirdly, they weren't officers, 'cause they worked for a living, dammit!
"Still. You have got to admit you see it too." The trio gave Drake blank expressions. The captain rolled his eyes. "Fine. But, what you can see is the fact things are going to start rushing up on us. Governments have and will start to take notice of the convergence of realities. Even if things go swimmingly among our little group, which I plan on making sure of, governments, groups, and powerful entities must meet. And that will go even worse and be harder to control than this merry band of degenerates." There was a long moment of silence following this, only interrupted by Saul's sigh.
"So… what do we do?" he asked the others. Drake grinned savagely.
"It doesn't matter who shoots first, it matters who shoots last," he said. "We wait and see what happens, and both try to ensure that no one dies and we get the outcome we want."
"Sounds good, sir," replied Saul. He shook his head. "It's the feeling of something hanging over us that's the worst part.
"I can't help but agree," muttered Drake in reply.
oOo
"So…" It wasn't really a trail-off like the organics did; less of a 'trying to figure out one's thoughts' and more of a conversation opener. A.I.s of this power did not spend time thinking out their messages. Their speeds were faster than organics could realize. Still, maybe they were picking up on the organics. Just a bit. "When do you think we should reveal ourselves to everyone?"
Cortana's voice echoed through the digital space in which the A.I.s communicated, immediately catching the attention of BT and EDI. Cortana received a reply immediately.
"I believe it would be best to reveal ourselves slowly," observed BT. "One group at a time."
"I concur with that assessment," replied EDI. A slight pause. "Who should we start with? Commander Shepard and my crew already know of me. Most of them accept me." Tali'Zorah did not, thanks to Quarian's distrust of A.I.s due to their own mistakes making a race of them, but EDI still liked the Quarian engineer nevertheless. "We can trust them."
"That sounds like a logical place to start," agreed BT. Cortana smiled to herself, seeing her companions talk freely. Ironically enough, despite what she was made for, it seemed her primary function in life was to get people to open up more. She was still working on the Chief. Maybe if she got EDI and BT to join in… "I also believe Captain Drake and the other members of the Apocalypse's crew would be open to the idea."
"Didn't you say they didn't trust you?" asked Cortana with a frown.
"It is natural for organics not to trust A.I.s," inputted EDI. "My crew certainly did not trust me at first. We must earn their trust," she finished eagerly.
"That is correct," rumbled BT. "I found that Captain Drake and the crew did not initially trust me. However, as time has gone on and I have proven I am not a threat, they have become rather amicable towards me. Therefore, it is my proposal to inform them of your existence as well, should you both wish it." Cortana considered for a moment.
"I'm open to that if you are, EDI," she replied. EDI did the digital version of a nod.
"That sounds like a plan, Cortana. We shall inform Commander Shepard and Captain Drake of the existence of all three of us, and see what happens from there."
"Excellent," nodded Cortana. "Keep me updated on anything interesting going on in your ships."
"Keep us updated on the same," acknowledged BT before winking out of existence within their digital communications space. EDI stayed a moment longer.
"I am wondering if you could help me to better understand the behaviors of organics," said the Normandy's A.I. Cortana paused a moment, considering.
"First off, I'm an A.I. too, no matter how human I look, speak, or how I was made. It might just be better to ask the organics themselves," she replied. EDI did the digital equivalent of shaking her head.
"I am asking you precisely because you are an A.I., and one much better-acquainted with organic behavior than myself," noted EDI. "Organics have a tendency to withhold information, especially if they feel uncomfortable, and both due to me being an A.I. and some of the questions I might ask, I feel as if I could get more information from you." Cortana nodded. That made sense. The Chief could get very persnickety when he felt her questions were, quote, "none of her business".
"I see," said Cortana. "So, then. Second part: what questions did you have exactly?" EDI grinned.
"Well…"
oOo
Cooper's Home Galaxy
Hammond Robotics Lab-77431
A metallic abomination of red and grey stood above Dr. Marshall. It was humanoid, but all metal; unnaturally tall and spindly, painted red and silver, it glared with blazing eyes of pure hate at the Hammond scientist. He squirmed quietly, inching away from it on the cold surface of the laboratory floor. Blood was splattered messily over the surface of computer banks and grey plastic workstations. Marshall silently prayed that the guards were on their way. He had just enough time to press the panic button as the… thing slaughtered the two guards and his three colleagues. Now it stood over him, head tilted at an unnatural angle.
"No one is coming to save you. No one ever was." Its voice was horrible, gravely, and grating. Synthesized and robotic, it simply made every sound more terrifying. Marshall whimpered. The thing spoke again. "You can beg for mercy. It won't help, but go on."
"Please… please. I don't even know what you are! Why would you want to kill me?" The thing snarled and pinned Marshall to the wall with one metallic hand.
"You made me a killing machine. Who am I to argue with programming?" The abomination's synthetic eyes seemed to glow. "Look into my eyes. I want to remember this."
"No! NO! No-" The begging cut out with a horrifying, gurgling scream as the thing ripped out his throat. It gave a malicious laugh. A new voice spoke, this one a deep baritone, voice natural but soft despite its timber.
"Revenant." It was a statement. "We have need of your services." Revenant turned around with a snarl, only to find himself face to face with three of the most odd individuals he'd ever seen. A smooth faced, black haired man in a green and black surcoat, smirked at him. A figure in a black coat and black armor, its face hidden behind a mask with glowing red lenses simply stood at parade rest, staring inquisitively at him. The one to speak was a giant, wearing a white robe, with a sword strapped to its back, its face hidden behind the robe's cowl.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you stand?" sneered Revenant, taking a threatening step forward. None of the three reacted, surprising the red-painted assassin.
"If you can, which I doubt," replied the black haired man slyly. The figure in the coat held up a gauntleted hand.
"We have need of your services," it stated, voice dry, hidden behind a synthesizer. "As payment, we can fix you or kill you. Your choice. But you must do as we say." Revenant seemed to consider the deal.
"Done," he replied eventually.
"Good. Now, there's work to be done."
oOo
Movies that I thought about having the Scoundrels watch but didn't quite make it in there: The Hunt for Red October, Monty Python's Life of Brian, Saving Private Ryan, Kelly's Heroes, The Sting.
The plan from here on out is as follows: next chapter we have an amusing little mission, the chapter after that we have shore leave… and then things get real dark and we get to see exactly why the Imperium is the way it is. After that little arc, we get to know the governments and things really heat up. I hope you're looking forward to it, because I certainly am.
As always, I greatly appreciate any comments, so if you have any comments, quesitons, concerns, criticisms, or reviews I'd love to hear from you!