This came from somewhere. Dunno
where. Anyway, Mass Effect and all characters are the property of
Bioware.
Belehk Formigj has been having a bad
day. This is not a bad thing, as Belehk is a bad person. A
batarian, a four eyed inhabitant of this floating rock of viciousness
and hate, he is also a slaver. Normally, the words 'batarian' and
'slaver' are synonymous, and nothing special, but this is a special
case. Even discounting that not all batarians are slavers, there's
the fact that Belehk is a slaver of children. Children which he
abuses, personally.
That particularly got under his craw.
A rendezvous was arranged. Belehk
thought he was going to meet a Quarian girl, young and innocent, on
her pilgrimage and new to the world outside the Migrant fleet. They
exchanged lovey dovey messages, Belehk passing himself off as an
older Quarian youth. They were going to meet, tonight. Belehk told
her to bring her favorite flower: Posies.
The look of Belehk's face when he saw
who was holding the flower was something he will commit to memory.
Much like the look on his face, now.
Because as the batarian pedophile runs
down the open transit tube, deep in the bowels of Omega, he glances
over his shoulder, half convinced he's lost his pursuer. That belief
is naturally shattered by the sight of the four wheeled, gunmetal
gray tank leaping into view, four jets firing underneath its chasis
as the oversized wheels land, propelling it forward.
Breathing batarian epithets, Belehk
continues his run, running into a maintenance shaft, climbing the
ladder inside as fast as his arms will carry him. He ascends,
propelled by panic, by fear, by denial that he could be caught. His
brow is shifting to green, soaked with sweat from the terror and
exertion. This shouldn't be happening. This has never happened
before.
The ladder ends at a platform, and
Belehk swings open the door, running out onto the rooftop of one of
the many buildings in the Omega centerline.
And straight into a blue armored fist.
His jaw ignites in pain, several teeth
loosened as the force of impact sends him off his feet. He grabs at
his holster, pulling out his gun, only for it to be kicked away
before a three fingered hand grabs the collar of his jumper and
tosses him across the roof.
Struggling onto his hands and knees,
Belehk looks behind him, and get's a good look at his nightmare.
Tall, lankly, cracking his three fingered knuckles. His armor is
blue, lined with white, a full helm with a T-shaped black visor
hiding his identity. But there's no mistake of the species, at
least, and there were these rumors from earlier this year...
“Belehk, Belehk, Belehk,” he says,
almost conversational as he continues a slow, steady advance, “You
really have no idea how much trouble you're in, do you?”
Reaching for his boot, Belehk pulls
out his hold out pistol, the cube unfolding into something that, on
Omega, is considered a decent killing tool. Belehk never gets the
chance to see if he was ripped off or not, though, as the pistol
explodes in his hand, the shockwave shattering the bones in his
digits. The batarian screams, grabbing his hands, as the turian
before him clicks his tongue, shaking his head.
“So, the good news is, I'm not going
to kill you,” he says, “Instead, you're going to do something for
me. I want you to find all your lowlife friends, and I want you to
give them a message. Tell them I'm back. Tell them that they tried
to kill me, but they failed. And now I'm coming for all of them.”
He grabs Belehk by the collar, lifting
him up, Belehk's ineffectual kicks bouncing off the kinetic barriers
covering the armored turian.
“And then you're going to turn
yourself in, because I just hacked your network and sent the entire
contents to the local authorities. Or you can run, which means I'm
coming after you, again. You're call. Or I can just drop you.”
Holding him up by one hand, Belehk
chokes, wheezes, and looks down to find himself held over the chasm
of Omega's centerline. A drop of miles is below him, and Belehk
nods, a stain spreading over the crotch of his jumper.
“Good man. For a pedophile and
slaver.”
“Who the Hell are you?” Belehk
breathes.
He's pulled close, eyes staring at the
visor.
“I'm Archangel.”
With
not even visible effort, Archangel pitches Belehk across the roof,
slamming into the wall next to the ladder. A groan, and Belehk
collapses into unconsciousness. And tapping his belt and the button
therein, Archangel glows blue, and disappears.
Mass
Effect:
Archangel
So, the basic idea behind this, especially since I've talked it over with some of my cowriters, is that Garrus Vulkarran is going to go from 'angry vigilante with a sniper rifle' as we see him in the beginning of ME2, to Turian Batman. Which is where the fun begins.
where. Anyway, Mass Effect and all characters are the property of
Bioware.
Belehk Formigj has been having a bad
day. This is not a bad thing, as Belehk is a bad person. A
batarian, a four eyed inhabitant of this floating rock of viciousness
and hate, he is also a slaver. Normally, the words 'batarian' and
'slaver' are synonymous, and nothing special, but this is a special
case. Even discounting that not all batarians are slavers, there's
the fact that Belehk is a slaver of children. Children which he
abuses, personally.
That particularly got under his craw.
A rendezvous was arranged. Belehk
thought he was going to meet a Quarian girl, young and innocent, on
her pilgrimage and new to the world outside the Migrant fleet. They
exchanged lovey dovey messages, Belehk passing himself off as an
older Quarian youth. They were going to meet, tonight. Belehk told
her to bring her favorite flower: Posies.
The look of Belehk's face when he saw
who was holding the flower was something he will commit to memory.
Much like the look on his face, now.
Because as the batarian pedophile runs
down the open transit tube, deep in the bowels of Omega, he glances
over his shoulder, half convinced he's lost his pursuer. That belief
is naturally shattered by the sight of the four wheeled, gunmetal
gray tank leaping into view, four jets firing underneath its chasis
as the oversized wheels land, propelling it forward.
Breathing batarian epithets, Belehk
continues his run, running into a maintenance shaft, climbing the
ladder inside as fast as his arms will carry him. He ascends,
propelled by panic, by fear, by denial that he could be caught. His
brow is shifting to green, soaked with sweat from the terror and
exertion. This shouldn't be happening. This has never happened
before.
The ladder ends at a platform, and
Belehk swings open the door, running out onto the rooftop of one of
the many buildings in the Omega centerline.
And straight into a blue armored fist.
His jaw ignites in pain, several teeth
loosened as the force of impact sends him off his feet. He grabs at
his holster, pulling out his gun, only for it to be kicked away
before a three fingered hand grabs the collar of his jumper and
tosses him across the roof.
Struggling onto his hands and knees,
Belehk looks behind him, and get's a good look at his nightmare.
Tall, lankly, cracking his three fingered knuckles. His armor is
blue, lined with white, a full helm with a T-shaped black visor
hiding his identity. But there's no mistake of the species, at
least, and there were these rumors from earlier this year...
“Belehk, Belehk, Belehk,” he says,
almost conversational as he continues a slow, steady advance, “You
really have no idea how much trouble you're in, do you?”
Reaching for his boot, Belehk pulls
out his hold out pistol, the cube unfolding into something that, on
Omega, is considered a decent killing tool. Belehk never gets the
chance to see if he was ripped off or not, though, as the pistol
explodes in his hand, the shockwave shattering the bones in his
digits. The batarian screams, grabbing his hands, as the turian
before him clicks his tongue, shaking his head.
“So, the good news is, I'm not going
to kill you,” he says, “Instead, you're going to do something for
me. I want you to find all your lowlife friends, and I want you to
give them a message. Tell them I'm back. Tell them that they tried
to kill me, but they failed. And now I'm coming for all of them.”
He grabs Belehk by the collar, lifting
him up, Belehk's ineffectual kicks bouncing off the kinetic barriers
covering the armored turian.
“And then you're going to turn
yourself in, because I just hacked your network and sent the entire
contents to the local authorities. Or you can run, which means I'm
coming after you, again. You're call. Or I can just drop you.”
Holding him up by one hand, Belehk
chokes, wheezes, and looks down to find himself held over the chasm
of Omega's centerline. A drop of miles is below him, and Belehk
nods, a stain spreading over the crotch of his jumper.
“Good man. For a pedophile and
slaver.”
“Who the Hell are you?” Belehk
breathes.
He's pulled close, eyes staring at the
visor.
“I'm Archangel.”
With
not even visible effort, Archangel pitches Belehk across the roof,
slamming into the wall next to the ladder. A groan, and Belehk
collapses into unconsciousness. And tapping his belt and the button
therein, Archangel glows blue, and disappears.
Mass
Effect:
Archangel
So, the basic idea behind this, especially since I've talked it over with some of my cowriters, is that Garrus Vulkarran is going to go from 'angry vigilante with a sniper rifle' as we see him in the beginning of ME2, to Turian Batman. Which is where the fun begins.