Vanguard - Deadlanders [ENG]

Plasma Blue

          The impenetrable plasma shield, a wall that promised me nothing but searing burns for any of my escape attempts, suddenly split in the middle and pulled aside, making  way for a terrifying figure to step through.

          His appearance betrayed more than just human traits. He carried the hallmarks of his species: enormous muscles, skin which is nearly impenetrable with knives, all of those surrounded by armour that resembled heavy combat gear. Or at least that's what he was wearing when he stepped in. His statue-like height made the already small room even tinier. As he entered I quickly scanned his appearance and my military training allowed me to identify what exactly stood before me. Not a fae- his build is too different. Too robust. The pointed ears were also absent from his brutish face. No, this thing is far more sinister than a mere fae. This is a shapeshifter. An interrogator.

          "Let me guess, you're here for the same thing as the last guy? Asking about Him? I already told you - he is dead. Has been for almost two hundred cycles. What's so special about him , that everyone here keeps sending a new lowlife dirtbag to try to dig into His story even more?"

          I addressed him first so he wont have the upper hand on me. I spoke flawlessly in the Shaniferian tongue, hoping to catch him off guard, but sadly my attempt proved fruitless. He probably skimmed through the last interrogator's notes, - or worse, he may  have been observing me through the earlier questioning from behind the wall. However this doesn't matter now. My goal is simple: stay stone faced, keep my and Terran's secrets locked tight. Not that they'd asked anything truly vital. Just about Him. But why.... I just couldn't figure it out.

          Yet, the words that left his mouth bred nothing, but suspicion and creeping, unsettling fear within me.

          "We know nothing about this individual. We've combed through your entire history, but found nothing useful about him. He didn't come from any prestigious family. He was just a nobody. And yet, out of nowhere, he appeared, wielding tremendous power; he systematically hunted down the Eight, and massacred the Queen of All and her forces... But how did all that begin? Where was he born? How was he raised and trained to become the one who ended the War and vanished without a trace?

          This bastard relentlessly spat out his questions in the only flawless language of our Goddess and planet Terra. Cold sweat coated my palms, every fiber of my being screamed, that I need to flee from this thing.

          "And what makes you think I have any answers to these questions?" -I have to stall with my words, and I need to figure out a plan to get out of here.- "And seriously, tell me you damn shapeshifter, why the hell would I share any of this with you?" -I answered at last in Terranian.

          "I know you know his story. I can see it in you. I can see it in your mind, that you have the answers to my questions. Fortunately for you, it is your magic that protects your secrets inside your skull from me.... Here you are. A nobody. Yet your scent is similar to his. Something suppresses it, but it's still there. How is this possible, if, according to you, you're not connected to Him? And this, at once, is both your luck AND your misfortune. This is what makes you someone to us, Human." -He spat the last word with disgust, then fell silent triumphantly.

          I missjudged. This shapeshifter is a greater threat than I initially assumed.... This thing in front of me. He LIVED THROUGH THE WAR.... And he even met Him.

          "In fact, the real reason you want to answer my questions is that both you and that half-breed mutt, who's being interrogated just two buildings away, are desperate to escape the control of the Shanifer system."

          "So how am I supposed to know that you aren't lying? Why should I trust you? Just for those two pretty eyes of yours? I mean the ones that you currently have on your face." -I asked whilst I leaned my back against the wall.

          "If you don't trust me for my beautiful eyes I made just to talk to you, then trust me because of our laws. Unlike you humans, we actually obey them. The chronolog, stored under the podium's shield, records our history. Everything spoken is being recorded into the Chronicle. Violating the Chronicle results in immediate execution. So, I swear on the chronolog that if you answer the questions, both you and the woman will be sent back to the ruins, where we found you. Unharmed."

          Well then. Here's an escape. A faint glimmer of hope cracked through the thick clouds of fear. But is this truly an escape? Everything that the shapeshifter just said aligns with what we know about them back home on Terran. They lack any deities, instead, their entire culture is built around their sacred Chronicle. I have to use this. And if they let the woman go too, then at least I can repay her for healing my wounds.

          "Do yo--" -He tried to speak again, but I immediately interrupted him.

          "I DO Accept. With the conditions being that you will let both me and her go. Unharmed. With our equipment. Then I'll answer your questions, you filthy swine." -The fear crunching in my stomach was almost unbearable, but I had to keep my voice steady. I can't let him get the upper hand. One wrong word, and it's all over.

          "How fascinating. Not even one of your kind, merely a mongrel, yet you protect her...." -His words left his mouth like a hissing laugh, as like my desperate attempts to stay in the fight provided him some sort of sick amusement. His gaze cut through me like a blade, intent on piercing deep into my mind, digging into the very core of my thoughts. As he spoke, he extracted a glass-like menu, likely some sort of advanced display from the podium.- "Go ahead, speak. Human." -I can almost feel his mocking words piercing into me like thorns, but  I cannot show weakness. Not now. If I crack, he wins; permanently, and my story ends here.

          After a brief pause, I gave a small nod and started getting ready to speak as the brilliant beams of the chronolog streamed into every corner of the room. Just now I started feeling the heavy weight of my subconscious. The story that had been building up in me, moment by moment, the memories, the knowledge, the pain... I realized this was no longer about my own survival, it was about  confessing  His story through my own soul...

          "His tale begins with Red. Bloodred crimson and shadows."

          And as the words slipped from my lips, I sensed the future shifting in a new direction. My memories were no longer just my own, and as I began my mind switched to another world. Another, long-gone era. To another life. But if this is the price of my survival, then I will allow the past, to speak through me.