Post by Duncan Ryder on May 20, 2022 15:15:05 GMT -5
It was still standing. Despite everything Shepard could throw at it, despite multiple direct blasts from the most powerful handheld weapon available to an Alliance Marine, a Spectre, a human being or any other species in the galaxy the Reaper was still standing. It was shaky though, unsteady on its armoured beetle-like legs. Its mechanical joints would seize or give way forcing it to constantly adjust in order to stay balanced and upright. At this point it was apparent that this was the only reason that Shepard was still alive.
As Shepard stood fighting to regain some measure of his breath the Reaper’s carapace opened up again, revealing its main cannon. It charged swiftly, glowing an ever brighter red, glowering down at him like a baleful eye. Shepard looked for cover. The previous blasts from the Reaper had laid waste to the ground around him, rendering the station behind him to little more than ash and smoking ruins. Shepard sprinted towards a haphazard pile of semi intact shards of the station that had fallen together as they had been blasted loose. The cannon buzzed like a million strong swarm of angry hornets as it built power. Shepard waited for the second of silence that came before the weapon discharged and put all the strength he could muster into conjuring a biotic barrier. One of the Reaper’s legs gave way in the moment it took its shot and threw off its aim. Still, the shockwave from the blast launched Shepard into the air, sending him into a disorienting spin. He landed heavily and with a crunch. He bounced several times before coming to a halt.
Shepard groaned. Something was broken, more than one thing most likely. Each breath he drew lit his chest on fire. He tried to get up. If he didn’t move he was dead but as he attempted to push to his feet his legs gave way. Perhaps this was it. If this was going to be his fate, then at least he’d know that he did everything he could. Shepard looked up. The Reaper was taking staggering awkward steps towards him. It was like it knew that he was done and it wanted to stand over him as it delivered the killing blow. When it stepped into optimum firing trajectory the Reaper dug each of its legs purposefully into the ground. It had no intention of allowing the damage it had sustained to rob it of victory this one last time. Its carapace opened up again and the light of the cannon glowered down at Shepard. Shepard looked up at it defiantly and could only watch as the weapon charged to unleash a blast that would reduce him to dust.
Something struck the Reaper’s flank. Explosive impacts bloomed with fire and tore rents in the Reaper’s armour. A following blast Shepard recognised as the blinding blue light of a Thranix Cannon caused a chain of explosions to spit fire from beneath the rents in its armour. Shepard looked into the sky and watched with overwhelming awe, relief and gratitude as the Normandy passed above him, coming around for a second attack run. The Reaper turned, recognising the greater threat to its ascendency and it tracked the frigate across the sky. Its cannon charged and fired as the Normandy came around. Evasive piloting saved the ship but the shot scored a deep gash across the Normandy’s hull that immediately trailed thick black smoke and flickered with fire. It was clear to Shepard that his part in this battle was far from over.
He fought to his feet, battling through the pain to get his legs beneath him and forcing them to hold his weight through sheer willpower. He raised the M-920 Cain and took aim. The damage the Normandy had caused was on the Reaper’s far side, away from him, so instead he aimed for the Reaper’s joints. He pulled the trigger, the weapon hummed as it gathered power then the warhead launched. Its attention drawn, the Reaper made no attempt to avoid it. The point of impact exploded with the blinding light of a birthing star. Already weakened, two of the Reaper’s six legs were sheared free and it fell. Its enormous bulk struck the ground with an earth shaking crash.
“Shepard to Normandy,” he said, his suit’s comms automatically connecting to his ship’s channels, “it’s down. Finish it.”
The Normandy, the glow of its drives sputtering, threw itself into a sharp turn. It lined itself up and once again fired the Thranix Cannon. The blue beam speared clean through the toppled Reaper. There was a series of small explosions before the entire ship detonated. The blast wave threw Shepard into the air again. He had blacked out before he hit the ground.
Sunday - May 15th, Indianapolis
Doom had been almost a week ago but another morning came and still the first sensation to reach Duncan’s waking mind was pain. It was everywhere, in every joint, muscle, ligament and organ it seemed. Trying to get up only made it worse. Lifting himself unsupported was agony on his abdomen but supporting himself sent shooting pains through his elbows and shoulders. It felt like whatever he did he couldn’t win. As he managed to fight his way to a seated position though he caught sight of the golden Final Boss championship belt that sat on a makeshift mounting on his wall. ‘Well, perhaps he could win some things’ he thought. It brought a smile to his face which in turn just made his cheek and jaw hurt. He sighed, shuffled his legs off the edge of the bed and prepared himself for the tribulation of attempting to stand up.
It was worth it though, every ache, every pain, every bruise, laceration and graze, he would endure them all again, every day if he had to for that golden strap and everything it represented. He was the Final Boss. He was the pinnacle of Level Up Wrestling. He was the face of the company. He was a world champion. He was, finally, after fifteen years from the first time he ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring, everything he ever hoped he would be.
Duncan pushed himself up and half limped, half hobbled his way towards the bedroom door. He stopped on the way to pick the belt up, to feel the weight of it across his arms, to run his fingertips across his name engraved on the nameplate. He slung it over his shoulder and closed his eyes, imagining the first time he would make the walk down to the ring as the Final Boss champion, the way the fans would cheer and cameras would flash and every sign would read his name.
He opened his eyes and set the belt back down. Every moment of his life since Joey Crash had failed to stand for the ten count and the bell had rung had been about recovery. It was day after day of stitches, cold compresses, ice baths, sports massage, agonising myofascial release and trying mobility work. For four days he had pushed himself through it so far and would do so for as many more days as it was necessary, because he was the champion now, but that meant that the true journey had only just begun.
In the blackness of his unconsciousness, something whispered to Shepard from the darkness beyond the stars.
He had no recollection of how he had come to be in the Normandy’s med-bay but he was glad that he was. Following the battle on Poe’s World the Normandy had limped its way to an outpost on a world called Wind Trust. How it had come by the name Shepard had no idea and no-one seemed keen to tell him. The locals, though mostly human, were not welcoming to a ship flying Alliance colours out in the Terminus Systems. Once they had been assured that the Normandy was no herald of Alliance interference the settlers' open hostility towards the incoming vessel abated but still they held it in unmasked suspicion. Still, money talks and with a little negotiation the people of Wind Trust had agreed to allow the Normandy to land and make use of their facilities in order to make repairs.
Shepard was yet to actually see the planet. He had been in the med bay being tended to constantly by Doctor Chakwas for days and hadn't been able to stray much further for over a week since. His injuries were much more severe than applying some medigel and getting a good night’s sleep was able to handle.
In time though he was healing, a little more each day and on this day, the fourteenth since his battle with, and defeat of, the Reaper, Doctor Chakwas had ordered that the best thing for him was to finally get some fresh air. So Shepard, not one to defy the orders of a respected medical professional, went for a walk.
Stepping out of the ship for the first time was a pleasure. Wind Trust had an Earth like atmosphere and climate and the port they had landed at was in late spring. The warmth of its own yellow dwarf star immediately started to sooth the aches of his muscles while a cool breeze caressed and soothed the exposed lacerations on his skin. It was peaceful here, despite the constant clanging of replacement parts being fixed into place, the burning of ion torches, voices raised in long distance conversation between repair teams and the constant back and forth of trucks carrying supplies and shift changes. It was possible that anywhere would have felt peaceful to Shepard after what he had seen and endured on Poe’s World but he wanted to think that it wasn’t just that. In that moment, as ordinary people went about their ordinary lives unaware of what had risen from the ground of a world only two systems away, Shepard knew that everything he had done to get himself to Poe’s World, every decision he had made had been correct, every fight he had fought had been justified and even the defeats he had suffered had been necessary. Without them all there it was most likely that there would be no peace on Wind Trust. In this galaxy though, in these frontier systems, the next threat was never far away.
This one came hurtling down from the sky like a comet, burning with atmospheric entry. The people around him didn’t respond at first. They all had their head’s down, Shepard was the only one looking to the sky. Then a siren went off. From somewhere far away surface-to-air laser batteries opened fire, criss-crossing the sky with stitches of yellow light. Some of them struck the comet, or so it seemed from where Shepard was standing but if they caused any damage it was not enough to dissuade it from continuing its descent. In moments it had fallen down through the defence cannons’ field of fire and at its ever decreasing altitude two things became apparent to Shepard. Firstly, that the dropship was aiming to land close to the Normandy’s position and secondly, that he had encountered this ship and more importantly its captain, before.
“EDI,” Shepard said into the comm bead built into the collar of his shirt, “calculate the incoming ships landing trajectory then gather all the marines we have and meet me there.”
“Affirmative commander.”
Minutes later they were together, waiting, Shepard, EDI and a score of Marines while Wind Trust’s own security forces gathered round them. To Shepard’s eye a few of them were professional soldiers but most were ordinary people, taking up arms to defend their home from whatever this incoming threat was. Shepard even recognised some of the mechanics that had been working on the Normandy.
The incoming vessel didn’t land so much as it struck the ground. For most ships this would have been a fatal collision for the ship itself and all on board but this vessel had been designed to collide head on with other vessels and punch through them. It did not seem structurally affected by its impact with the dirt. The ship corrected itself, landing gears extending to adjust it from an awkward diagonal to stand straight. A hatch blew open on its side and everyone around Shepard raised their weapons towards it. What came out though surprised him.
It was a drone. A little ball of constantly adjusting soft blue light. It hovered out sedately and slowly made its way towards him, stopping a respectful distance away.
“Please, hold your fire,” the drone said in a soft robotic voice, “I mean no harm. I carry only a message.”
Shepard looked across his shoulder at EDI who was scanning the drone with her omni tool. “It is unarmed, commander,” she confirmed.
Shepard raised his hand and gestured for everyone to lower their weapons. The marines did so, the local personnel did so a moment later, more hesitantly. The drone hovered onwards until it was just a couple of feet from Shepard. The drone scanned him.
“Confirmed. You are Commander Shepard. Initiating playback.” With that the drone projected an image of a man in the same translucent light as it was made of. He was tall and broad with a head of long, dirty, matted blonde hair. He wore piecemeal armour with low tech repairs and besides his firearms he carried a brutal looking hatchet and machete on his belt. Shepard had encountered this man twice before. He knew him only as The Raider.
“There’s no need for this to become a battle Shepard. I’m just here for you. I’m coming out. No one shoots, no one else has to die.” The recording ended abruptly and with its purpose served the drone simply fizzled out of existence.
On cue there was movement at the hatch and the Raider stepped out. He looked exactly as he did in the recording except for a thick canvas bag that was slung across his shoulder. He strode towards Shepard and in turn Shepard walked to meet him. The two of them came together, stopping several metres away from each other.
“What’re you doing here?” asked Shepard.
“Is that a way to greet an old friend?” the Raider replied mockingly.
“I’m in no mood to exchange pleasantries.”
“No? But I thought you’d be happy, after you’ve gone to such lengths to find me. It was inspiring really, so I thought I would reward you and bring myself here to you.”
Shepard frowned and hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Um, I, uh, haven’t been looking for you.”
“Oh come now commander, there’s no need to be coy. I don’t blame you, ever since our last encounter, I would have done the same. Really, I’m flattered. I’ve heard stories of your tribulations, travelling to Omega, without your ship even, then from world to world to world, all to find me and to reclaim this.” The Raider reached into the bag and from it withdrew a perfect black orb.
The reaper artefact. The one Shepard had recovered from Archimedis Station almost a year ago. The one that had started this entire ordeal. The one the Raider had taken from him when he had ambushed Shepard and his party on Settler’s Gain. It was different now though. When Shepard had held it it had swirled with deep shades of grey, blue and purple. Now it was just black.
“Are you seeing this EDI?” Shepard whispered into his comm.
“I am. The artefact is inert. It is no longer producing any kind of energy signature.”
“It must have been linked solely to the Reaper on Poe’s World.”
“So it would seem.”
Shepard turned back to the Raider. “No, that’s OK, you keep it.”
The Raider froze, confusion writ clear on his face. "What?"
"I said you can keep it. I don't need it anymore."
The Raider dropped the orb on the ground and threw his arms into the air, "then what have you been hunting me across the Terminus Systems for?"
"Well, I wasn't. I was tracking this salarian smuggler. He had an artefact too."
"Ah, so knowing what would happen if you came for me you sought easier prey," the Raider said arrogantly.
"Well no, it's just his artefact was better, more important."
The Raider glared at Shepard with barely contained rage.
"I found him by the way," Shepard pushed on fighting not to break a smile at the Raider' obvious annoyance, "he was already dead but I found what I wanted him to lead me to too so it's over now."
The Raider quietly seethed, "You mock me Shepard?"
"I didn't ask you to come here."
"You dare mock me!?" the Raider turned back towards his ship and yelled, "everyone! Attack!" the Raider turned back, a malicious grin on his face. "This won't go like our first battle Shepard. I have new allies now."
As he said it, an atlas mech stomped out down a ramp that had lowered at the rear of the ship.
"Eab Liz'ard! Destroy them!" the Raider ordered.
The atlas turned its guns on the gathered defenders as the Raider’s own human forces flooded out to support it. With it turning head on Shepard could see the pilot through the translucent canopy.
"Is that a…volus?"
"Would you like me to scan for a DNA signature?" EDI asked dryly.
"No, that's OK EDI. It's clearly a volus. I just never expected to see one piloting an atlas."
With his forces gathering around him the Raider drew his machete and hatchet and fixed his eyes on Shepard.
"You worry about that guy," an unfamiliar voice said from Shepard's left. Shepard looked across his shoulder to see a man he recognised as one of the mechanics working on the Normandy, "we'll deal with the mech," the mechanic said.
"You know how to fight one of those?"
"I know how to take one apart," the mechanic said with a sly grin, "you go ahead. We'll be right behind you."
The Raider was charging him. Shepard was unarmed. Still, he summoned his biotic strength, wreathing himself in energy and charged out to meet him.
Duncan Shepard, the Final Boss Championship slung over his shoulder, stands before the camera. The green screen displays a Reaper, blown apart and floating in space.
Duncan: No endorsements today, no cute gimmicks because once again I’m about to step into the ring with Larry Tact.
Duncan shakes his head and smirks.
Duncan: Larry, Larry, Larry, you’ve got to be asking yourself right now, who did I piss off to get thrown into this match? Things have been going well for you lately haven’t they. Ever since the last time I beat you you’ve not been my concern. You see I’ve been looking up the mountain while you’ve always been just that far behind. Now I’m at the top though and there’s no further up to look, so now I have to cast my gaze down and see who’s closest. Here’s the thing Larry, that’s not you. Holding one of the TriForce titles you might think you are but TriForce Heroes is a long way away so you’ve got two options. One, hope you can defend that Power title until the end of the year, become TriForce Champion and challenge me at Final Fantasy, and I assure you, I intend to still be champion at Final Fantasy, or, option two, you lose that belt and have to find a way to work yourself back into contention. Either of them are going to take a long time, especially for a mediocre competitor like you. Funnily enough, all of that applies word for word to your new buddy E.A. Blizzard too.
Duncan: But while you could have avoided my attention for several more months and kept on with this cute little run Larry and his super best friends have been on, instead, someone picked you up like an errant janitor in Two Point Hospital and dropped you right in front of me. So now Larry the fun times end for you. You’ve got one win on me, you’ll never let anyone forget that, but everyone can see the continent sized asterix that goes beside it. Everyone knows that straight up I beat you every time, and Blizzard, this might be the first time we’ve shared a ring but don’t go thinking you’re bringing anything to the table your boss hasn’t tried before.
Duncan: Speaking of janitors though, Peter Vaughn, when I look down from the top of the mountain you’re not even on the path. You’re the snake in the grass, waiting for a chance to strike while I’m unaware. Don’t be getting any foolish ideas this week though. I’m going to be minding my step, watching my back and these boots-
Duncan raises a foot into shot.
Duncan: Are made for stomping. Joker, cut the feed.
Black.
As Shepard stood fighting to regain some measure of his breath the Reaper’s carapace opened up again, revealing its main cannon. It charged swiftly, glowing an ever brighter red, glowering down at him like a baleful eye. Shepard looked for cover. The previous blasts from the Reaper had laid waste to the ground around him, rendering the station behind him to little more than ash and smoking ruins. Shepard sprinted towards a haphazard pile of semi intact shards of the station that had fallen together as they had been blasted loose. The cannon buzzed like a million strong swarm of angry hornets as it built power. Shepard waited for the second of silence that came before the weapon discharged and put all the strength he could muster into conjuring a biotic barrier. One of the Reaper’s legs gave way in the moment it took its shot and threw off its aim. Still, the shockwave from the blast launched Shepard into the air, sending him into a disorienting spin. He landed heavily and with a crunch. He bounced several times before coming to a halt.
Shepard groaned. Something was broken, more than one thing most likely. Each breath he drew lit his chest on fire. He tried to get up. If he didn’t move he was dead but as he attempted to push to his feet his legs gave way. Perhaps this was it. If this was going to be his fate, then at least he’d know that he did everything he could. Shepard looked up. The Reaper was taking staggering awkward steps towards him. It was like it knew that he was done and it wanted to stand over him as it delivered the killing blow. When it stepped into optimum firing trajectory the Reaper dug each of its legs purposefully into the ground. It had no intention of allowing the damage it had sustained to rob it of victory this one last time. Its carapace opened up again and the light of the cannon glowered down at Shepard. Shepard looked up at it defiantly and could only watch as the weapon charged to unleash a blast that would reduce him to dust.
Something struck the Reaper’s flank. Explosive impacts bloomed with fire and tore rents in the Reaper’s armour. A following blast Shepard recognised as the blinding blue light of a Thranix Cannon caused a chain of explosions to spit fire from beneath the rents in its armour. Shepard looked into the sky and watched with overwhelming awe, relief and gratitude as the Normandy passed above him, coming around for a second attack run. The Reaper turned, recognising the greater threat to its ascendency and it tracked the frigate across the sky. Its cannon charged and fired as the Normandy came around. Evasive piloting saved the ship but the shot scored a deep gash across the Normandy’s hull that immediately trailed thick black smoke and flickered with fire. It was clear to Shepard that his part in this battle was far from over.
He fought to his feet, battling through the pain to get his legs beneath him and forcing them to hold his weight through sheer willpower. He raised the M-920 Cain and took aim. The damage the Normandy had caused was on the Reaper’s far side, away from him, so instead he aimed for the Reaper’s joints. He pulled the trigger, the weapon hummed as it gathered power then the warhead launched. Its attention drawn, the Reaper made no attempt to avoid it. The point of impact exploded with the blinding light of a birthing star. Already weakened, two of the Reaper’s six legs were sheared free and it fell. Its enormous bulk struck the ground with an earth shaking crash.
“Shepard to Normandy,” he said, his suit’s comms automatically connecting to his ship’s channels, “it’s down. Finish it.”
The Normandy, the glow of its drives sputtering, threw itself into a sharp turn. It lined itself up and once again fired the Thranix Cannon. The blue beam speared clean through the toppled Reaper. There was a series of small explosions before the entire ship detonated. The blast wave threw Shepard into the air again. He had blacked out before he hit the ground.
Sunday - May 15th, Indianapolis
Doom had been almost a week ago but another morning came and still the first sensation to reach Duncan’s waking mind was pain. It was everywhere, in every joint, muscle, ligament and organ it seemed. Trying to get up only made it worse. Lifting himself unsupported was agony on his abdomen but supporting himself sent shooting pains through his elbows and shoulders. It felt like whatever he did he couldn’t win. As he managed to fight his way to a seated position though he caught sight of the golden Final Boss championship belt that sat on a makeshift mounting on his wall. ‘Well, perhaps he could win some things’ he thought. It brought a smile to his face which in turn just made his cheek and jaw hurt. He sighed, shuffled his legs off the edge of the bed and prepared himself for the tribulation of attempting to stand up.
It was worth it though, every ache, every pain, every bruise, laceration and graze, he would endure them all again, every day if he had to for that golden strap and everything it represented. He was the Final Boss. He was the pinnacle of Level Up Wrestling. He was the face of the company. He was a world champion. He was, finally, after fifteen years from the first time he ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring, everything he ever hoped he would be.
Duncan pushed himself up and half limped, half hobbled his way towards the bedroom door. He stopped on the way to pick the belt up, to feel the weight of it across his arms, to run his fingertips across his name engraved on the nameplate. He slung it over his shoulder and closed his eyes, imagining the first time he would make the walk down to the ring as the Final Boss champion, the way the fans would cheer and cameras would flash and every sign would read his name.
He opened his eyes and set the belt back down. Every moment of his life since Joey Crash had failed to stand for the ten count and the bell had rung had been about recovery. It was day after day of stitches, cold compresses, ice baths, sports massage, agonising myofascial release and trying mobility work. For four days he had pushed himself through it so far and would do so for as many more days as it was necessary, because he was the champion now, but that meant that the true journey had only just begun.
In the blackness of his unconsciousness, something whispered to Shepard from the darkness beyond the stars.
He had no recollection of how he had come to be in the Normandy’s med-bay but he was glad that he was. Following the battle on Poe’s World the Normandy had limped its way to an outpost on a world called Wind Trust. How it had come by the name Shepard had no idea and no-one seemed keen to tell him. The locals, though mostly human, were not welcoming to a ship flying Alliance colours out in the Terminus Systems. Once they had been assured that the Normandy was no herald of Alliance interference the settlers' open hostility towards the incoming vessel abated but still they held it in unmasked suspicion. Still, money talks and with a little negotiation the people of Wind Trust had agreed to allow the Normandy to land and make use of their facilities in order to make repairs.
Shepard was yet to actually see the planet. He had been in the med bay being tended to constantly by Doctor Chakwas for days and hadn't been able to stray much further for over a week since. His injuries were much more severe than applying some medigel and getting a good night’s sleep was able to handle.
In time though he was healing, a little more each day and on this day, the fourteenth since his battle with, and defeat of, the Reaper, Doctor Chakwas had ordered that the best thing for him was to finally get some fresh air. So Shepard, not one to defy the orders of a respected medical professional, went for a walk.
Stepping out of the ship for the first time was a pleasure. Wind Trust had an Earth like atmosphere and climate and the port they had landed at was in late spring. The warmth of its own yellow dwarf star immediately started to sooth the aches of his muscles while a cool breeze caressed and soothed the exposed lacerations on his skin. It was peaceful here, despite the constant clanging of replacement parts being fixed into place, the burning of ion torches, voices raised in long distance conversation between repair teams and the constant back and forth of trucks carrying supplies and shift changes. It was possible that anywhere would have felt peaceful to Shepard after what he had seen and endured on Poe’s World but he wanted to think that it wasn’t just that. In that moment, as ordinary people went about their ordinary lives unaware of what had risen from the ground of a world only two systems away, Shepard knew that everything he had done to get himself to Poe’s World, every decision he had made had been correct, every fight he had fought had been justified and even the defeats he had suffered had been necessary. Without them all there it was most likely that there would be no peace on Wind Trust. In this galaxy though, in these frontier systems, the next threat was never far away.
This one came hurtling down from the sky like a comet, burning with atmospheric entry. The people around him didn’t respond at first. They all had their head’s down, Shepard was the only one looking to the sky. Then a siren went off. From somewhere far away surface-to-air laser batteries opened fire, criss-crossing the sky with stitches of yellow light. Some of them struck the comet, or so it seemed from where Shepard was standing but if they caused any damage it was not enough to dissuade it from continuing its descent. In moments it had fallen down through the defence cannons’ field of fire and at its ever decreasing altitude two things became apparent to Shepard. Firstly, that the dropship was aiming to land close to the Normandy’s position and secondly, that he had encountered this ship and more importantly its captain, before.
“EDI,” Shepard said into the comm bead built into the collar of his shirt, “calculate the incoming ships landing trajectory then gather all the marines we have and meet me there.”
“Affirmative commander.”
Minutes later they were together, waiting, Shepard, EDI and a score of Marines while Wind Trust’s own security forces gathered round them. To Shepard’s eye a few of them were professional soldiers but most were ordinary people, taking up arms to defend their home from whatever this incoming threat was. Shepard even recognised some of the mechanics that had been working on the Normandy.
The incoming vessel didn’t land so much as it struck the ground. For most ships this would have been a fatal collision for the ship itself and all on board but this vessel had been designed to collide head on with other vessels and punch through them. It did not seem structurally affected by its impact with the dirt. The ship corrected itself, landing gears extending to adjust it from an awkward diagonal to stand straight. A hatch blew open on its side and everyone around Shepard raised their weapons towards it. What came out though surprised him.
It was a drone. A little ball of constantly adjusting soft blue light. It hovered out sedately and slowly made its way towards him, stopping a respectful distance away.
“Please, hold your fire,” the drone said in a soft robotic voice, “I mean no harm. I carry only a message.”
Shepard looked across his shoulder at EDI who was scanning the drone with her omni tool. “It is unarmed, commander,” she confirmed.
Shepard raised his hand and gestured for everyone to lower their weapons. The marines did so, the local personnel did so a moment later, more hesitantly. The drone hovered onwards until it was just a couple of feet from Shepard. The drone scanned him.
“Confirmed. You are Commander Shepard. Initiating playback.” With that the drone projected an image of a man in the same translucent light as it was made of. He was tall and broad with a head of long, dirty, matted blonde hair. He wore piecemeal armour with low tech repairs and besides his firearms he carried a brutal looking hatchet and machete on his belt. Shepard had encountered this man twice before. He knew him only as The Raider.
“There’s no need for this to become a battle Shepard. I’m just here for you. I’m coming out. No one shoots, no one else has to die.” The recording ended abruptly and with its purpose served the drone simply fizzled out of existence.
On cue there was movement at the hatch and the Raider stepped out. He looked exactly as he did in the recording except for a thick canvas bag that was slung across his shoulder. He strode towards Shepard and in turn Shepard walked to meet him. The two of them came together, stopping several metres away from each other.
“What’re you doing here?” asked Shepard.
“Is that a way to greet an old friend?” the Raider replied mockingly.
“I’m in no mood to exchange pleasantries.”
“No? But I thought you’d be happy, after you’ve gone to such lengths to find me. It was inspiring really, so I thought I would reward you and bring myself here to you.”
Shepard frowned and hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Um, I, uh, haven’t been looking for you.”
“Oh come now commander, there’s no need to be coy. I don’t blame you, ever since our last encounter, I would have done the same. Really, I’m flattered. I’ve heard stories of your tribulations, travelling to Omega, without your ship even, then from world to world to world, all to find me and to reclaim this.” The Raider reached into the bag and from it withdrew a perfect black orb.
The reaper artefact. The one Shepard had recovered from Archimedis Station almost a year ago. The one that had started this entire ordeal. The one the Raider had taken from him when he had ambushed Shepard and his party on Settler’s Gain. It was different now though. When Shepard had held it it had swirled with deep shades of grey, blue and purple. Now it was just black.
“Are you seeing this EDI?” Shepard whispered into his comm.
“I am. The artefact is inert. It is no longer producing any kind of energy signature.”
“It must have been linked solely to the Reaper on Poe’s World.”
“So it would seem.”
Shepard turned back to the Raider. “No, that’s OK, you keep it.”
The Raider froze, confusion writ clear on his face. "What?"
"I said you can keep it. I don't need it anymore."
The Raider dropped the orb on the ground and threw his arms into the air, "then what have you been hunting me across the Terminus Systems for?"
"Well, I wasn't. I was tracking this salarian smuggler. He had an artefact too."
"Ah, so knowing what would happen if you came for me you sought easier prey," the Raider said arrogantly.
"Well no, it's just his artefact was better, more important."
The Raider glared at Shepard with barely contained rage.
"I found him by the way," Shepard pushed on fighting not to break a smile at the Raider' obvious annoyance, "he was already dead but I found what I wanted him to lead me to too so it's over now."
The Raider quietly seethed, "You mock me Shepard?"
"I didn't ask you to come here."
"You dare mock me!?" the Raider turned back towards his ship and yelled, "everyone! Attack!" the Raider turned back, a malicious grin on his face. "This won't go like our first battle Shepard. I have new allies now."
As he said it, an atlas mech stomped out down a ramp that had lowered at the rear of the ship.
"Eab Liz'ard! Destroy them!" the Raider ordered.
The atlas turned its guns on the gathered defenders as the Raider’s own human forces flooded out to support it. With it turning head on Shepard could see the pilot through the translucent canopy.
"Is that a…volus?"
"Would you like me to scan for a DNA signature?" EDI asked dryly.
"No, that's OK EDI. It's clearly a volus. I just never expected to see one piloting an atlas."
With his forces gathering around him the Raider drew his machete and hatchet and fixed his eyes on Shepard.
"You worry about that guy," an unfamiliar voice said from Shepard's left. Shepard looked across his shoulder to see a man he recognised as one of the mechanics working on the Normandy, "we'll deal with the mech," the mechanic said.
"You know how to fight one of those?"
"I know how to take one apart," the mechanic said with a sly grin, "you go ahead. We'll be right behind you."
The Raider was charging him. Shepard was unarmed. Still, he summoned his biotic strength, wreathing himself in energy and charged out to meet him.
Duncan Shepard, the Final Boss Championship slung over his shoulder, stands before the camera. The green screen displays a Reaper, blown apart and floating in space.
Duncan: No endorsements today, no cute gimmicks because once again I’m about to step into the ring with Larry Tact.
Duncan shakes his head and smirks.
Duncan: Larry, Larry, Larry, you’ve got to be asking yourself right now, who did I piss off to get thrown into this match? Things have been going well for you lately haven’t they. Ever since the last time I beat you you’ve not been my concern. You see I’ve been looking up the mountain while you’ve always been just that far behind. Now I’m at the top though and there’s no further up to look, so now I have to cast my gaze down and see who’s closest. Here’s the thing Larry, that’s not you. Holding one of the TriForce titles you might think you are but TriForce Heroes is a long way away so you’ve got two options. One, hope you can defend that Power title until the end of the year, become TriForce Champion and challenge me at Final Fantasy, and I assure you, I intend to still be champion at Final Fantasy, or, option two, you lose that belt and have to find a way to work yourself back into contention. Either of them are going to take a long time, especially for a mediocre competitor like you. Funnily enough, all of that applies word for word to your new buddy E.A. Blizzard too.
Duncan: But while you could have avoided my attention for several more months and kept on with this cute little run Larry and his super best friends have been on, instead, someone picked you up like an errant janitor in Two Point Hospital and dropped you right in front of me. So now Larry the fun times end for you. You’ve got one win on me, you’ll never let anyone forget that, but everyone can see the continent sized asterix that goes beside it. Everyone knows that straight up I beat you every time, and Blizzard, this might be the first time we’ve shared a ring but don’t go thinking you’re bringing anything to the table your boss hasn’t tried before.
Duncan: Speaking of janitors though, Peter Vaughn, when I look down from the top of the mountain you’re not even on the path. You’re the snake in the grass, waiting for a chance to strike while I’m unaware. Don’t be getting any foolish ideas this week though. I’m going to be minding my step, watching my back and these boots-
Duncan raises a foot into shot.
Duncan: Are made for stomping. Joker, cut the feed.
Black.
Feb. '22 - Jul. '22
2022
2021/2022
Jun '21 - Jul '22