#even then we have an example of a Justicar who is Too Brutal
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anyway game limitations aside, Samara could severely fuck someone up if she didn't have morals keeping her in check
#OOC / HOLLY.#in theory she could also elicit incredible bliss#but considering how much of her life has been spent in violence I think that would take some figuring out#she's normally attacking someone's nervous system#I doubt changing to a more enjoyable approach would be like flipping a switch#one day I'll lay out my hc that Justicars formed largely in response to Ardat-Yakshi#which is why their brutal training and conditioning is key + the emphasis on advanced biotic ability combined with advance martial ability#[Ardat-Yakshi grow more powerful with each kill so Justicars have to slam past the limits of what's even possible for asari#PLUS add unbelievable combat ability to take them down. even then facing an Ardat-Yakshi with extensive kills could be a trial]#so anyway I think there's potential for Justicars to be just as horrific in killing and perhaps even in temperament#IF they weren't bound and shackled to the Code. that's what makes the difference#even then we have an example of a Justicar who is Too Brutal#and another of a Justicar who left the order to become a pretty nasty assassin#so it's like. if you're gonna train someone with this kind of power they need to be bound by Something or it could end horrifically
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History
“Do you think I have the time to teach a bunch of humans how to keep their brains from cooking?”
“You and I both know you have nothing but time on your hands, such is your curse for being so... brutally efficient.”
“But still — humans? Turians are bad enough!”
“Look at the bigger picture, Aria! We learn what humans are capable of —“
“What their children are capable of.”
“— and their Alliance owes us both a favour, ours to cash in when we need it most, regardless of their stance on the matter.” There’s the Tevos she knows, the vicious thorn under a summer bloom, the varren teeth behind painted lips, the Commando tucked away in Councillor robes.
Ugh. “Fine.”
“Excellent! I’ll make the suggestion.”
~
Of the ten students taken under her wing that year, only three impress: Nyreen and the fire in her heart, Rhys and the live-wire pain under his skin, and Elnora with the glimmer of dark intent in that cunning stare.
Aria puts her finger to each pulse, curiosity keeping her gaze on their diverging paths, the snares fate sets out for them. Nyreen becomes an example of her people, making a nuisance of herself when she returns to Omega with a vengeance. Rhys falls victim to his, no satisfaction to bring him back from the death stealing him off her radar. And Elnora, the imperfect product of their own, heading towards her destruction in the name of ambition, in the clutches of arrogance.
~
The logo burned from his chest means little in the presence of his companions, trigger-happy runts who believe themselves important. Overconfident fools missing the armed dancers behind them and it’s a shame, truly, Lieutenant Alenko an observant curiosity slipping through her fingers yet again.
But loyalties change just as the armour does and the soldier before her, arguably one of humanity’s current finest, wears Cerberus colours, not Alliance.
“Commander Shepard,” she says, staring at her own reflection in that opaque faceplate of his, “I heard you were dead.”
“If I had a credit for every time that’s been said to me over the years, I’d be bribing you from your throne, Aria,” he replies with far too much familiarity, in a voice she... vaguely... recognises.
Who are you under that helmet, Shepard?
~
Had the Eclipse merc new to her boots come up with a better lie Garrus might have fallen for it — after all, Shepard’s no Cerberus lackey even though he wears their armour (albeit modified) — but... she just... pretended to shoot? Seriously? He’s almost offended on their behalf that the asari thinks she can bullshit Shepard and a Justicar.
“Is that the best you can do?” Shepard asks, beating him to the very same question, solitary vocals gone flat in displeasure.
“What?” There, a crack in her cover already, darting gaze too assessing for an innocent bystander as she straightens from her cower, a move that has two guns aimed at her head again, and a vampire sighing at her.
“We spent a year under Aria’s wing and that’s the best lie you can come up with on the fly?”
Wait — they know each other?
“What do you know of Aria? Who are you?” the merc demands and rather rudely slams a wall of dark energy at them before Shepard can respond.
Garrus nails her in the thigh, hampering her retreat even as her biotics scream harmlessly around the barrier Samara summons around them, catching the merc in the shoulder with a lucky shot of her own. And Shepard — he’s already there to yank her back from the door she claws at, spinning her around off balance —
“Enough to know she should’ve killed you when she had the chance.”
— and snaps her neck with a too casual twist of his hands. A blow they’ve dealt before.
Who are you, Shepard?
~
Ventilation shafts were not designed with turians in mind and Nyreen has a front row seat to that unfortunate discovery. It’s a tight fit even by her standards, and noisy if she so much as twitches a single claw, a squeal of metal so loud even the dead are bound to hear it.
Never mind the patrol Aria’s sent after her, and the mechs Cerberus have patrolling the streets on the lookout for pocket resistance to their most recent curfew. And that Alliance solider, the one ever present at Aria’s shoulder these days...
She’s not sure what to make of him. Known on Omega as something of a friendly face, extending a helping hand to human, batarian, and vorcha alike, hunter of Ardat-Yakshi and “nice guy” to civilians. What good can he really be, commanding Aria’s ear so? All too willing to assist in returning Omega to its former lack of notable glory — what’s in it for him? What’s the catch? Who’s the human behind the —
The shaft buckles ahead of her, crumpling in on itself like cheap metal against a krogan charge and she scrambles back with a curse.
“It’d be such a shame if a certain Shadow vanished before I start looking for her in all the nooks and crannies around here.”
How?!
As if the very thought of him acted as a location ping, there he is directly below her, where he hadn’t been seconds ago. There, now, the cold prickle of his biotic field making itself known without advance warning.
And there, his bare face at last, revealing the human male under Commander Shepard’s customary black armour. A familiar face, if older.
“Rhys?!”
It can’t be. Aria had said — the reports they’d found — the news articles — they all said he was dead.
But it is. Definitely, impossibly him, head lifting to look directly at her, familiar but not, something dark and... and hungry in that stare.
“The patrol looking for you is just around the corner, Shadow. You’ve gotta go.”
“How —“
“Now.”
She kicks open the latch and drops down just as he turns his back on her and it’s so tempting, almost too tempting, to reach out and touch his shoulder, confirm the solid presence of his body over an illusion or projection.
She runs instead, alone, when they’d explored Omega’s secrets and shortcuts and out of the way hiding places together, once upon a time.
Who are you now, Rhys?
~
There is something to be said about the fates of her three favoured students. Nyreen, alive despite all odds, a support at Aria’s back and a thorn in her side. Rhys not meant for life and yet too stubborn to die, straddling both worlds. And Elnora, doomed from the start, too eager to carve a name for herself in the the blood and bone of others.
There’s something to be said about it but — it’s been a tough road to reclaim Omega. It’s been a long one and she is... tired.
“Sleep, Aria,” Nyreen says, laying gentle claws over her eyes, other hand tucked secure around her gun.
“You’re safe with us,” Shepard says from his position at the door, eyes alight with the biotic power he weaves across it like a spiderweb.
Huh. Maybe she did train them well, after all.
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