It’s dark when the Keep’s newest guests arrive. The cold night air has seeped into the stones of the barracks sending a chill throughout the rooms. No fire has been laid, no lamp lit to beat back the cold or dispel the dark. Each cell remains exactly as it has for months on end, almost as though no one were expecting the small rooms to be occupied
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An odd place to be in, when she was supposed to be boarding the Normandy to rest after a long, brutal fight against against a yahg. Shepard had enough weariness in her cybernetics-enhanced bones to almost be incapable of abject shock, almost, but not quite. She threw her back against a wall, hauled her pistol out of its holster and leveled it at the dust-ridden floor.
Hand clamping tight over her weapon, Shepard raised two fingers to her ear. "Hello? Anyone copy? Hello?"
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At the opposite end of the hall, two pale blue eyes with an unnatural glow are watching.
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"Hello?!"
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Nothing about it made sense to Shepard. Her radio? Dead. The room? Prehistoric, if her visor didn't lie. Her armor and weapons hadn't been taken, either. It smacked of somebody's idea of a twisted prank.
She gave up on trying to make radio contact, positioning her hand over the knob and counting, three, two...
The door flung open and Shepard followed suit, pistol tracking the rapid movement of... something ... down the hall. Its muzzle pointed at the nearest person, which so happened to be Sollux.
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Sollux stops and watches her as she points the gun at him, but doesn't seem to be impressed by it. Or by her armour--he just figures she's some sort of robot. He just glares.
"Who are you?"
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"Name's Shepard. Who're you?"
Having no idea what his species could be capable of, the pistol stayed where it was.
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It could talk, which meant he should probably respond to it. "Sollux. Put away your fucking gun, I'm not going to attack you."
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Shepard deliberately kept her arms raised and her visor on. Voice steady and remarkably cool for the turmoil she was feeling, "Careful who you give orders to, kid. Where are we, and why?"
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Yawning, a tired looking man with dark messy hair comes into view, flaming torch in hand and a serious look on his face. "If you want answers, I'd advise y'don't shoot the kid."
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"Really, because usually killing things indiscriminately is a fucking wonderful way to get answers."
And he will likely continue on that line if not interupted again.
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She mulled it over. The pistol lowered, a concession, but didn't return to its slot. The marine wasn't a hundred percent prepared to disarm in the presence of potentially hostile strangers, in a potentially hostile environment, in a potentially hostile scenario...
You get the picture.
"Talk."
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"Right now, I need the both of ye to follow me. The quicker y'do that, the sooner you'll know what the fock is goin' on."
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Since Shep has taken her gun off him, he turns fully towards Joe. "Whatever. Lead the way."
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But she had few other paths to take, and most involved navigating on her lonesome with no leads or clue as to the building layout. Much as it stung to admit, her best option was to be led like a lost lamb. Shepard tried and failed to quell the weary frustration.
"First explain why you can't tell us here and now."
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"M'not tellin' you now because it ain't my orders to do so. 'sides, you two aren't the only ones running around the part of the Keep. I don't really feel like explainin' shit over and over. Either y'follow, or y'don't. Take an example from the..."
Joe glanced to Sollux and found himself unsure of the boy's species. Oh dear.
"Pointy headed lad."
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