They do not respond. A natural, human response that they carry from memories of the stiff silence The Shepard carried when her eyes fell upon their body that very first time. A fragile CHILD born by lab, raised by scientists with no care to pain or fear. And yet it was a woman with eyes more cold than the icy plains of Noveria to release them. She who had slain men and women without doubt in her mind for the consequences, because of their risk.
Yet here the Rachni Queen stands, vessel strong - his muscles not yet atrophied from illness that allows her pheromones complete control.
”ᴡᴇ. ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴇᴘᴀʀᴅ’s ᴅᴇʙᴛ.”
Humanity will come another day. When the Machines return to sing their sour note across a galaxy. And yet, they have heard the tales. Seen scars carrying light orange and strong trailing across formerly smooth skin. The Rachni are hidden, but they are not blind. They know WHO this man is as well as they know WHAT he has done.
Commander Shepard is the patron saint of their DEMISE uprising. He has ne’er witnessed such a holy endeavor. Indeed, she’s one in a million. & her sacrifices will not go in vain. He will make sure of it.
The vessel he greets personally wears a human skin. Cerberus’ scientists would have loved to pick it apart, to see what makes the body tick & the spirit so willing. Alas, there are some things science cannot COMPREHEND.
He fancies himself a creator, proud of his work, but with pride — there will be a tumultuous fall from grace. His arrogance blinds him, his reputation precedes him. The Illusive Man sins with a wicked grin, a small chortle.
The Rachni are in his debt. No one man should have all that p o w e r.
{ coɴтrol. ♦ } — ❝The pleasure’s all mine. Shepard’s done more than I could have hoped for. She’s the messiah &you’re the future.❞
He plays humility’s cards down to a tee though he’s far from humble. What a crook!
