AN: With this the prologue is done and the future plans are for a Krogan shaped disruption of everyone's pans. A lot of head-butting, and general mayhem. Is there enough interest in order to make this a proper story?
Disclaimer: I don't own Worm, it belongs to Widbow. It is written with no commercial aim in mind. It is not for sale or rent.
Prologue: I'm a Krogan Dragon now?
=KroganDragon
Part 3
=KroganDragon
8 April 2011
The Rig
Protectorate HQ
Brockton Bay
There were a few immediate benefits to playing nice with the locals, for now at least. First, I could get out of the tent-like hospital scrubs and into some fitting clothes quickly designed for a Krogan, courtesy to one of Armsmaster's fabricators. Second, as long as I wasn't an outright villain, given my status, I would be getting a few thousand dollars a month as a stipend.
Third, and that was the actual double-edged sword, came the power testing. On one hand, going through it would reveal what I could do to all kinds of questionable parties. On the other hand, I kind of needed to know what the hell I could do now, so I could begin to lay down at least a vague plan for the future. Beyond, you know, go out, bash heads, and get bounties, then profit!
The testing process itself was long, boring, though it had a few highlights. A few very useful highlights if I say so myself.
First, came the realization that now I had a built-in shield that could take one hit from practically everything the PRT dared throw at me. Then it would recharge in a couple of seconds. It could even stop a constant attack for a while, however, then it took even longer to recharge itself.
We figured that after one of the local heroes, a kid really used a modified stun pistol on me. My shield eventually failed under a sustained energy beam, which was amazing in itself – the fact that even a local kid-tinker could build something like that I mean. It was too bad that the tech couldn't be mass-produced and fielded…
When the beam hit me, the sensation was quite unpleasant, however, I failed to go down to the boy's chagrin. What little I could see of his expression was quite amusing. Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system!
The kid in colorful armor all but screaming 'shoot me' kept looking from me to his odd-shaped pistol. He was muttering to himself until his eyes brightened, and he ran away from the testing area.
"Jenkins, keep an eye on Kid Win and make sure he doesn't disassemble something important!" One of the scientists overseeing my testing shouted, and an armored trooper jogged after the boy.
I could also lift fourteen metric tons now, without biotics. That particular simple test, which involved a huge hydraulic press, by the way, put a wide grin on my face that refused to go away. Now I would be the best Krogan at head-butting people and bashing their heads in!
I think I should be disturbed by the influence Wrex's memories and physiology had on me. Instead, the thought of what I could do now kept me grinning throughout the rest of the dull testing process.
Now, strictly speaking, the most interesting part, and useful too, were my other powers. First, came the aptly called changer one. I watched a recording of honest to God dragon with my coloration, even scars on the muzzle, teleport to the Rig. Then Armsmaster jabbing it, me, with tranquilizers. My armored form shrunk until it left my naked body on the landing pad.
No matter what we tried, we couldn't get me to change. The best theory the local scientists had was that triggering the transformation would require a significant amount of distress. Needless to say, the limited number of options they tried, including another young hero, Gallant, blasting me with an emotion-manipulating burst, did nothing but irritate me.
On a side note, the blast of fear merely tingled making me aware that the kid tried something, however, I didn't feel anything else.
We wasted six hours trying to get me to change, and by the end of it, I was ready to start head-butting people.
The most interesting, and concerning part was the last bit of my powers we figured out. How the Geass, or whatever was stuck in my head knew about it, and how people would react to it, was a question I was very interested in knowing. I was obviously, very concerned about it too.
To put a long story short, we figured out that I had three "slots" for powers that I can change. I needed to think and desire a certain kind of power, and something roughly comparable to my need would materialize. Another six hours of testing confirmed that while those powers would be in the ballpark of what I wanted, they wouldn't necessarily be anywhere near ideal for solving the problem at hand, though a creative application or brute force one might make it get away.
Even without my prior knowledge, I knew that this was a big deal. A very big deal. That was a fact underlined by how polite and eager to please me everyone became while the last part of the testing was underway. This trend continued afterward, with Dragon being at hand through a teleconference to aid me in filling up all necessary paperwork. There was a very chipper PRT legal expert in attendance too, helping too and explaining the most relevant local laws.
Both of them kept dropping a hint that joining the Protectorate, or perhaps even the Guild might be for the best, citing all kinds of benefits.
Curiously enough, neither of them mentioned all the legal entanglements I would have to contend with if I officially signed with one of these groups…
A couple of thinker powers that did what I needed them to, allowed me to perceive bits and pieces of various conversations on the Rig. They also all but told me that my displayed powers by themselves would ensure that the local law enforcement and the government would use velvet gloves when I was concerned.
It was to be expected. There were more and more whispers that the large alien was the second coming of Eidolon… Whoever or whatever put me here with a mission engraved into my brain at least gave me the tools that might allow me to complete it.
I kept reading through and signing forms, while occasionally thoughtfully humming to either Dragon's words or the lawyer's suggestion. In the meantime, my mind was primarily busy planning mayhem.
=KroganDragon=
Late that night, after finally filling up all the relevant paperwork, and a visit to the cafeteria to fill up my stomach, I found myself meeting the local PRT Director, Emily Piggot. As soon as I entered her office, it became painfully obvious that she wasn't a happy camper. I'm sure it had something to do with my refusal to become a Protectorate member, even if my associate status should have been a consolation prize.
We weren't alone. Armsmaster stood at parade rest near the Director's desk, and a stern, middle-aged woman observed me from a flat-screen mounted to the ceiling.
"Mr. Wrex, you present us, me in particular, with a problem." Piggot began, wasting no time with idle chat.
"I'm a Krogan. It's part of the package." I smiled at them, while my mind was busy thinking over the implications of this meeting. "Did you decide to hire my services? As I said, I've spent a long time working as an independent contractor. I can even give you a one-time discount for the first job." I did my best snake-oil salesman impression.
The Director glared at me like an angry varen.
"There is a very fragile balance present here in Brockton Bay. To be frank, we're outnumbered and outgunned. Any disruption of the status quo could lead to an outright gang war that can lay waste to the city." Piggot grudgingly admitted. "For all your displayed power, Mr. Wrex, you represent a destabilizing element. One that can plunge this city over the edge."
"You make this sound like Omega, or if I'm charitable, some of the worse off place on Illum." It was my turn to frown. "Why haven't you cleaned up the local gangsters and warlords? And who is she?" I jabbed a clawed finger at the screen.
"I'm Chief Director Costa-Brown, Mr. Urdnot Wrex. Our opinion is that you joining either the Protectorate or the Guild would be for the best, for everyone involved. We're ready to negotiate and offer you options that aren't available to most heroes in our ranks."
"Best for you, you mean. I've seen what you offer to your people. I won't be leashed, Chief Director." I smiled widely. "We both know we're only having this conversation because of my powers. At the end of the day, when you strip all that boring flowery language the Asari and you humans like so much, it's power that matters."
"As I said, we're ready to negotiate a significantly altered contract for you, if you're willing to join, Mr. Wrex." The Chief Director persisted.
"I might entertain the idea." I began slowly and saw the humans relax a bit. "After I've made a proper name for myself on your Earth Bet, and I'm in an even better negotiating position."
"Depending on what you do and how the chips fall, you might find yourself in a worse position to negotiate from, Mr. Wrex." The Chief Director forged on.
"I can live with that." I shrugged.
"Brockton Bay might now." Director Piggot countered.
"Then deal with the local gangs. Hell, I might do it for you if the reward is good enough."
"I've seen the results of your power testing, Wrex." Armsmaster bit off, obviously feeling uneasy. "You're undoubtedly powerful. You also have vast experience in warfare. What you lack is experience with your powers and in dealing with Parahumans, especially villains. If you go out alone, bounty-hunting, the results can be disastrous for everyone involved. We're offering training, backup, intelligence, and material support."
"And you're also going to tie up my hands."
"That won't necessarily be the case, as I've already said." The Chief Director added.
"I'll keep your offer under advisement. My understanding of the situation is that I'm not a prisoner here, am I?"
"No, Mr. Wrex, you're not. However, considering your appearance, it might be for the best that we present you officially in a press conference before you decide to go outside the Rig." Director Piggot tried.
"So you could keep pestering me to join or place even more contingencies in place to take me out if you feel like it?" I chuckled. "I think I want to stretch my legs and see this Brockton Bay of yours."
=KroganDragon=
Part 4
=KroganDragon=
10 April 2011
The Rig
Protectorate HQ
Brockton Bay
The locals did have one good reason to keep me around for one more night. I was yet to meet the famous local healer Panacea, who would be confirming that I wasn't a carrier of anything nasty enough that might depopulate the continent. Or at least the city.
It wasn't all bad. I got free food and bed out of the deal, along with a calm night to plan now that I was more or less aware of what I was capable of. It was shortly after midnight that I retired to a brute-rated large bed. It was almost comfortable, so I laid down, closed my eyes, and fished for thinker powers.
I spent hours playing with them and plotting. In the process, I utilized a combination of my imperfect knowledge of Earth Bet, a few precognition powers I tested, which were far from ideal. To round it all, several not particularly cooperative other thinker powers helped too. I had a rough idea of what would be happening over the next few days.
One Taylor Hebert would be going out like a cape for the first time either tonight or tomorrow evening, run into Lung and the Undersiders. Then things would go downhill for Hebert, and arguably everyone involved. My impression of the original timeline was that only a very unlikely string of events led to Taylor eventually playing a critical role in defeating Zion. It was even less probable that she would succeed a second time with butterflies all around. My very presence would be causing butterflies. At best, I might count on the major events of the next few days playing as they should have. Or perhaps not. If Coil assigned his pet thinker on my case, the Undersiders might not rile up Lung, and Taylor might have an uneventful first night out as a hero. I couldn't count on that of course. If I was wrong, she might get herself killed, and thus a potentially high-value asset, would be wasted.
One Dinah Alcott should have triggered already. Having access to someone friendly with her power would be very useful when planning for the future. Like when it gets time to kill off the Slaughterhouse 9. Especially Jack Slash, before he could hasten up the apocalypse.
I already knew my long-term mission objectives. I was pretty sure it was some kind of a Geass burned into my mind. It ensured I would be pursuing them. The damn thing was insidious. I wasn't even sure how much it was pushing me to neutralize my targets, and how much taking them out was common sense if you had the power to pull it off. Worst of all, I found I didn't care. I was stuck in this world for the foreseeable future, perhaps decades and centuries if I didn't get killed first. Stabilizing it was in my interest. Right?
I shifted to my side, finding the no good way to be really comfortable on my back courtesy to my tail. In the long run, I could do with a custom-made bed. A reinforced one at that, but that was for later.
Immediate concerns first – make sure Taylor Hebert survives the next few days. Keep Dinah Alcott safe and on friendly terms. Get bounties, so I could use them to get my hands on resources. Then utilize those resources in conjunction with tinker and thinker powers. Get a hold of some decent equipment.
Of course, first I would need to get myself some basic gear, whatever I could acquire until nightfall. Then I would be hunting a dragon. Speaking about Dragons, I would need to deal with the Dragonslayers sooner rather than later. Then I could have a frank discussion with Dragon about her nature, not to mention, gain salvage, a potential ally and remove a chaotic element from the board…
Speaking about chaos, Coil had to go. Sooner than later too.
=KroganDragon=
Early in the morning, after grabbing a shower and quick breakfast, I finally met the healer. The examination was slated to happen in a small conference room complete with a few fully kitted out PRT agents just in case. Panacea was a mousy little thing, reminding me a bit of Tali back when she was just starting her Pilgrimage. Next to her floated who had to be her sister – Glory Girl. Victoria Dallon was something else all right. She was perhaps the most beautiful blond woman I've seen in my life, yet all I could do was idly appreciate it from an aesthetic perspective.
That was a can of worms I wasn't ready to poke with a ten-foot pole. Besides, I was going to be quite busy over the coming days and weeks. How much being stuck in a Krogan body affected my libido and what I now found attractive was an issue for later. Much later.
"One of you must be Panacea," I stated with what I hoped was a disarming grin.
"Damn, you're large!" Glory Girl exclaimed and peered curiously at me. She could more or less look me in the eyes, only because she floated nonchalantly.
"Humans are small. Not my fault." I shrugged. I carefully didn't mention that anyone but Elcor and Thresher Maws was kind of small compared to a proper Krogan.
"Let's get this done with." Panacea grumbled.
"It's an alien, Ames! Show some excitement!" Glory Girl chided her sister. She bobbed up and down in the air, peering curiously at me.
"Alien my ass… Do I have permission to examine you?" Panacea gave me a long suffered look and offered her hand.
Someone was very grumpy today. Or just not a morning person.
"You have." I grabbed her outstretched hand and watched in amusement how her eyes widened. I could feel her power poke and prod at me gleefully as it examined me, thanks to a bio-tinker power of my own. I wasn't trusting enough to let someone like Panacea examine me without a counter-measure in place.
"What the hell are you?!" The little human bounced on her feet, however, she didn't let go. In fact, she did her best to clamp on my hand which was kind of cute. She was like a baby varen with a bone.
"Ames?" Glory Girl asked with a frown.
"I've never seen something like that before! There are so many redundant organs! And a second nervous system!"
"Glory Girl, is your sister drooling?" It was my turn to be wary.
Victoria Dallon looked more closely at her little sister and grimaced. "Ames, knock it off!"
"That's practically brute like toughness and regeneration! How old are you?!" Panacea demanded.
"Around fourteen hundred years give or take a few. I was born in the last years of the Rebellions and it was a mess."
"What, are you immortal or something?" Glory Girl demanded while Panacea began bouncing, only held in a place of the death grip she had on my arm.
"We Krogan don't die of old age." I grinned happily. If I played my cards right, I might get to live centuries or more. Or I might die along with everyone else in a few short, years, which was a sobering thought.
"That's not fair!" Glory Girl grumbled.
"We're awesome like that!" I pointed a clawed thumb at my chest and preened.
While we were chatting, and Panacea kept showing an unhealthy amount of interest in my innards, Director Piggot arrived accompanied by Armsmaster.
"Panacea, you've started already. Good. Is our guest safe to mingle with the general population?"
"Uh...Ah…" Amy Dallon shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her thought, while her power kept doing its best to ogle me.
I carefully pried her death grip off and her sister shook Panacea out of her daze.
"He's safe enough. For a brute with regeneration." Panacea eventually said though she kept staring at me with hungry eyes, doing a good impression of a vivisection happy Salarian. I was really glad that I had a bio-tinker power ready just in case.
"No alien disease that can wipe out the life on Earth?" The Director demanded.
"No! There's nothing like that! However, there are so many interesting things! His DNA is like nothing I've seen and his organs and nervous system…" Panacea started babbling. And drooling.
I took a step back. Just in case, you know?
The Director looked between me and the healer. She let a long suffered sigh.
"Mr. Wrex, you're free to go if you so desire. However, I can't stress this enough, becoming part of the Protectorate would be for the best. Going out, acting as a bounty hunter, can either get you killed, start a war this city might not survive, or both."
"I'll step lightly, Director." I wasn't really lying. Starting a war here and now wasn't my intention, even though it might come to it. There were things I had to do, places to be.
And it might be nice to get me a Krant. Perhaps Hebert might be amiable to be an effective independent hero?