legionmissions | Hand in Hand Combat [CLOSED]

Who| Rico and Garrus
What| A mission that goes somewhat awry. Teamwork!
Where| On a luxury spaceliner
When| Not during the current events
Warnings/Notes| Violence, justice shouting.

When the Legion had received news of a distress beacon being broadcasted from a luxury spaceliner, there was a bit of a kerfuffle in the Mission Monitor Room. Finding out that it was hijacked by terrorists to target an ambassador on board, the situation looked bad. Short-staffed and under a time limit, they had no choice but to send out the only two available legionnaires onto the same mission. Weighed against the risk of lives lost, it was found to be the obvious decision. The only decision, despite what was written in their files.

Enter Arbitraitor and Archangel.

Their objectives? Infiltrate the spaceliner, neutralize the terrorists, retrieve the ambassador, and get out. And if possible, rescue the other passengers. It would be a difficult mission, but a vital one. Overriding any protests the legionnaires might have had, they were given instructions to meet at the Hangar, where they would board a ship and slip under a blind spot in the spaceliner's sensors. And then, they would be free to take it from there.

Simple.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You're right.

The words light up Rico's expression with a grin that looks like it shouldn't belong on a face like his. But the rest of it soon follows, and his face turns thunderous. He shoves the finger out of the way and rocks up on his heels towards Garrus, already so close together, fists clenched and the barely restrained desire of violence evident in every angle of his body.

"First of all, don't you say a single word about Judge Beeny." Rico starts, voice cold. "She's had nine more years on the streets than me. In terms of numbers, she's killed, tortured, beaten, and sentenced nine times more people than me. You think she's better because she hides it behind a professional attitude? You think you're any better?" He jabs Garrus back, twice as hard. "At least I know what I am. You're still denying it."

"And," he continues, voice starting to raise. "You think that the high-" he starts, furious, then cuts himself off. "Of course! Of course I've put a bullet in someone because of nothing other than the Justice Department telling me! That's all you need!" He gesticulates with his free hand. "I'm only doing what I'm supposed to be doing. For what I was created to do. I'm just enforcing their laws, no matter how cruel or nonsensical you think it is. Take it up with them. I have the weight of the law behind me, and you have nothing!"

He wants to say it. He wants to say that he doesn't have the high ground, no affections that the law is right, that Garrus was right to say drokk it to C-Sec and go his own damn way. Garrus found power over others there at the end of a barrel, Rico knows it. But how can he think that he's any better than Rico? He just wants him to understand that he's down here on his level, in the dirt with him. But he's already said too much.

He tilts his chin upwards instead, bitterness in his voice. "The law is the only thing that ever matters in this world. That, and the force to lay it down. You're no hero. Just another vigilante who got his squad killed, and you're still so drokking proud of it, Archangel. Your father should have disowned you."

Maybe, Rico, just maybe, having power over other people was never something Garrus had any interest in. Because the truth is, the Legionnaire Legacy's assessment of Garrus - while maybe a little more generous than he'd ever think he deserves - was spot on. Deep down in his own, impulsive way, all he's ever wanted to do was even the odds for every poor bastard who ended up trapped under someone else's boot.

His problem is he cares too much to see things objectively. When someone or something gets under his skin, he leads with his heart and not his head. It's a realization that came through a lot of suffering, and a lot of mistakes that he's never going to be quite able to forgive himself for. Mistakes that have cut deeply enough that Garrus isn't even going to argue the fact that he probably should have been disowned, or that he squad is dead because of him. The words still hit hard, hard enough that his hands curl into fists at his side.

He'd like to say that, in that moment, his hand was stayed by self-control. He'd like to be able to say that he was the bigger man, but that's not true. Not in that way, at least. The fact of the matter is, Garrus just didn't want to give Rico the satisfaction, and spite is a hell of a motivator.

"Just because something's official doesn't mean it's right, Rico," Garrus snarls. "Laws are written by people - people who could be corrupt, blind, or just plain stupid. Like everything else, they're fallible. What makes a law worth the paper it's printed on are the principles behind it. You look at who it helps, who it hurts, and then you get an idea of whether or not it's worth a damn and whether or not it needs to be changed."

"If the law doesn't serve the greater good - if it really is just cruel and nonsensical - then what the hell is it worth?" Garrus snaps, his voice rising. "If the laws don't serve the greater good, if the ability to enforce it is all that counts, then what makes a cop different from any low-level gang enforcer? What's that badge on your chest worth, Dredd?"

"Let's hypothetically live in a world where you're right." Rico says sarcastically, but with a raw edge to his voice. "Maybe the law is worth nothing. Maybe it's nothing but a sick joke, enforced on a slack-jawed populace, and there are no differences between a criminal cracking heads and a trigger-happy Judge. Maybe it's a festering mess that needs to be cut out like a cancer. Maybe the only justice you can get is what you can take for yourself."

He tilts his head to the side, relishing in the sick feeling in his stomach and the rush of excitement that comes with daring to say that out loud.

"But what would that mean, really? The Justice Department is unkillable. What can one person do, other than exactly what they ask of him? Would you prefer that Mega-City One looks like Omega? That hack surgeon of yours would have gotten life, or an execution on the spot if the sentencing Judge didn't feel the bother. People like him don't just get to walk away. Wouldn't that feel good? Isn't that what you wanted? All those mercs you killed - I didn't see any jury before you sentenced them to death. I just want you to stop fighting it!"

He can't understand that kind of mindset. Stop fighting me, he means. Tell me that I'm right to do what I do. But they're not getting anywhere like this. Hell, he's got one of their rifles - he's so close to just trying to see if he can't just arrange something. But that's something that'll have to wait.

From both ends of the corridor, a squad's worth of footsteps approach. They have one minute before it's within earshot.

It's probably a good thing that they've got some company, if only so they both avoid whatever the Legion's equivalent of a court martial is. He may have his anger under wraps for the moment, but Rico's words - this repeated insistence that they're the same just because they've both put their share of criminals in the ground - has him seeing red.

Make no mistake though, it was a talk they were going to finish at some point or another.

His attention turns down the hall, his danger sense prickling in both directions ... and towards Rico. Despite how unsettling it was, knowing that violent intent was somewhere in Rico, it was reassuring having his finger on the pulse. He'd know when the shot was coming, if it ever came. No pulling the rug out from under his feet, at least not if he's careful.

"I'll take the left." Not a request, not an order. It's just what he's doing. The right side, you can figure that out.

Rico recognises a familiar tone in Garrus's voice that means he's going to do it regardless of objections, and you just deal with it. He should know.

So despite his pride, he takes up a position at the right, gun at the ready for when his opponents turn around the corner. Rico's no stranger to working alongside closely with a partner, even if he hasn't bothered with one over the past year, but Garrus is well over a foot taller than Joe and moves in unexpected ways. Drokking aliens.

Two harried looking groups charge around each corner, armed haphazardly with stun-sticks and rifles, marking out their targets. The ones with short-range weapons close in on Rico and Garrus first, swinging their weapons.

Hand in Hand Combat [CLOSED]

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