Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Slaves of Cerberus	By : NakedOwlMan Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 138070 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all the characters in it are owned by people that are not me. I have not made a cent off this work of fiction

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
"Now this is what I'm talking about," Vega exclaimed, as Rooker led him and Cortez into the room. "The first thing we do when we get our ship back, we're putting in one of these."

"It's not much," Rooker said, gesturing behind her to the small but functional target range, "but considering how little action we were seeing with the war over, we thought it might be a good idea to let our marines keep their skills sharp on long patrols. Figured you two might want to get in a little practice before the real shooting starts."
"Hey, I'm just supposed to be the shuttle pilot around here. The less shooting I have to do, the better," Cortez said, but then gave a light shrug. "Still, couldn't hurt to try it out, I suppose." Walking over to a table with a selection of weapons, Cortez picked one up and checked the heatsink.

"The Avenger, Esteban?" Vega said incredulously. "Really? You've got all these options laid out and you pick something boring like the Avenger?"

Cortez rolled his eyes at his old friend's jabs. "Pardon me, Mr. Vega. I'm afraid I'm about as good at selecting weapons as you are at piloting a shuttle."

"You're never going to let me forget that thing on Mars, are you?" Vega said. "But seriously, you want yourself a real assault rifle, here's your baby," Vega picked up a Striker Assault rifle and gave it a loving pat. "Gun like this, only thing left of that clone once I put my sights on 'em will be a smear on the ground."

"Yeah, if the recoil doesn't tear your arm off," Cortez said. "Not everybody can be blessed with your physique, I'm afraid."

"Damn right," Vega said. Loading a fresh heatsink, he looked over at Rooker. "What about you? Let's see what your weapon of choice is."

Rooker shook her head. "I should actually be getting back. You two go ahead."

"Ah, come on. Jacob can do without you for a few minutes," Vega urged her. "Grab a weapon, let's see what you've got."

Sighing, Rooker finally snatched up an M-92 Mantis from the table.

"A long-range kinda fighter, huh?" Vega asked, only to receive an icy glare from Rooker.

"Are you implying something, Commander Vega?" Rooker snapped at him. "I'm perfectly able to get up close if I need to."

Vega raised a placating hand. "Hey, hey, calm down, chica. Nothing wrong with taking folks out from a distance. Tell you what: we get into the thick of it, you snipe a few heads off for me and I'll keep those Cerberus pendejos busy so they don't throw off your aim, okay?"

Rooker sniffed. "Let's just do this," she said coldly, walking over to the firing range and shouldering her rifle.

"The legendary Vega charm strikes again," Cortez muttered under his breath to Vega.

"Shaddup," Vega cleverly retorted. The two of them walked over to the range, briefly greeting the two other marines currently practicing before readying their weapons.

As Vega fired shots at the hanging target in front of him, he noticed a display screen off to the side of the range. Leaning over to Rooker standing next to him, he tapped her on the shoulder. "What's with the numbers over there?"

"The men set up a scoring system for the targets," Rooker said, eyes still focused on her target as she spoke.

Vega nodded. "So that's what that is," he said. Pointing up to the top of the board, Vega gave Rooker a charming smile. "With your name up at the top like that, I thought maybe it was the results of the ship's last beauty contest."

Lowering her weapon, Rooker gave Vega a withering glare. "Do lines like that actually work on women, Commander Vega?" she asked. Before he could answer, she let out an annoyed grunt and returned to her shooting. "How about you keep your libido in check until the mission is finished? We've got a long trip ahead of us, and the safety of Commander Shepard and the other hostages depends on us being professional."

"Hey, 'professional' is my middle name," Vega said. "Sorry if I came on too strong, chica. Just a habit when I'm on a ship with someone as... as..."

Vega trailed off, as he suddenly noticed that all of the sounds of gunfire in the room had stopped. He looked around to see the other marines staring at the open door to the firing range.

Following their stares, he saw a dark-haired marine with cold eyes and a scarred face step into the room. Making eye contact with no one, he selected an M-22 Eviscerator shotgun from the table and walked slowly over to one of the firing stations. Everyone in the room stared at him in silence as he lined up his sights on his target. The mysterious man fired several shots, the spread punching holes into the head and chest of the silhouette hanging from the ceiling. His face remained completely expressionless the entire time as he fired.
Once the marine had expended his heatsink, he turned his head from left to right, staring at both Vega and Cortez in turn. "You two," he spoke, and his voice was low and drained of emotion. "You were with Commander Shepard when she was taken."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but with the pregnant pause afterward, he was obviously waiting for an answer. "Yes, we were," Cortez spoke up.

The marine turned his gaze to Cortez. "Well. I hope you put up a better fight the next time around. Unless you want to hand Cerberus a few more hostages to experiment on."

"Hey, pal, we did our best, okay?" Vega protested, stepping up to confront the marine. "You weren't there, you don't know!"

The marine fixed his cold stare on Vega. "I wasn't there, no," he said. "But I will be there the next time. So for my sake, and the sake of everybody else on this ship, my advice is..." he moved to stand toe-to-toe with Vega, still emotionless in the face of the other man's anger. "Do better than your best. Because I don't intend to be taken prisoner. Not again."

Throwing the shotgun on the table, the marine left without another word.

Turning to Rooker, Vega arched an eyebrow. "Charming guy. Who the hell is he, and why's he got everybody here looking so spooked?"

"David Riggs," Rooker said, and even her normally hard, stern voice was a little hushed. "He was... just a civilian once. During the war, he and his family went to Sanctuary. They were all turned into husks and he... he was..."

"Indoctrinated," Cortez said, and Rooker nodded. "Jesus."

"He ended up becoming one of Cerberus's most valued and... brutal soldiers," Rooker said. "The massacre on Benning, the one where Ambassador Osoba's son died... he was in charge there. They called him the Bloody Hand."

Vega's eyes went wide. "Shit, that guy is the Bloody Hand? I've heard stories about the shit he did. They... they let him join the Alliance after all that?"

"He passed all the psych tests," Rooker said. "He told the Alliance that everything he had done was against his will, and that he wanted to make things right. They were... hesitant, naturally. But in the end, they gave him to Commander Taylor," she looked over and gave Vega a wry smile. "Guess they wanted to put him somewhere where he couldn't do much damage."

"The goddamned Bloody Hand," Vega said, still in shock. "This whole thing just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Slaves of Cerberus