Teaser Time [SPOILER ALERT]

“You must be Tarrik…” John decidedly conjectured through tightly gritted teeth, as if doing his best to restrain his every impulse of rage and violence.

“Indeed I am…” The imperious volus asserted, as he stepped forward, like a triumphant conqueror. “And you are the great Commander Shepard… The Reaper Slayer himself… accompanied by the one who, I can only assume, is the man they call Gordon Freeman…” He reverently proclaimed, as he looked over the battered scientist. “The Opener of the Way, if I’m not mistaken…”

“You know, I did a bit of Extranet research on the two of you, while I was bottled up in that alcove of a bridge.” He elaborated, as he placed his hands behind his back, and turned about, beginning to pace around in soliloquy. “And I must say, I’m both impressed and fascinated. It is beyond me how you obtained such a man as this, into your employ, Shepard.” He said, befuddled, as he pointed a stubby arm towards Gordon. “And yet, lo and behold… Here the two of you are… Humanity’s greatest exemplars… brought before me in chains!”

“Alright, listen here you little hot air buffoon.” John angrily began to dictate - clearly having had enough of the little creature’s self-loving spiel. “I’ve had just about all I can stomach from you. I’m gonna give you one chance, and one chance only, to walk away from this with your life, you understand me?”
“Hot air buffoon?!” Tarrik snapped back, appalled at the audacious insult. “How dare you, Earth Clan! You are in no position to arbitrate ultimatums! And I’ll have you know that it was my brilliance that orchestrated this entire endeavor!

“Brilliance…?!” Shepard retorted sarcastically, as he tried to choke back a muffled chuckle. “You paid off a bunch of lunk-head security guards and stormed the ship! I’ll grant you, it was effective…” He admitted with a loathful nod. “But brilliant is a bit of a stretch… Though, I’m sure you know a thing or two about stretching, don’t you stumpy?” He quipped with a tumultuous chortle.

“Insolent knave!” Tarrik barked in retaliation, quickly losing his calm and composed disposition. “You will address me as Captain Shon, and give me the respect I so rightly deserve!”
“Captain Shon?! Hahaha!” John deliberately broke out into a tumultuous guffaw, as several of the hostages actually did the same - their laughs quickly grating Tarrik’s self-absorbed nerves. “This is bad comedy!” John expressed, pretending to not be able to contain his laughter. “Though I will admit, it’s got me laughing, hahahaha!”

“Stop it!” Tarrik forcefully demanded, pointing a sharp, stubby finger up at the cackling Commander. “You will not laugh at me!” Suddenly, a dejecting sound found its way to his ear canals. It was the sound of a rambunctious murmur beginning to grow from whispers to laughs, as many of the hostages joined in Shepard’s amusement. “Stop it! All of you!”

“Enough!” A harrowing, dominating voice rang out - resonating throughout the deck, like a thundercrack booming across a stormy night sky. Without fail, the mutter of laughing voices was quelled into silence, as Shepard turned to face it’s source; a massive, hulky silhouette waiting in the shadows of a nearby pillar. As silence swept across the room, the figure emerged from the shadows, stepping out into the ambient, orange glow.

It was a krogan; scarred and bitter-faced. His flesh was a pale shade of green, in contrast to the bright, lime-green osteoderm plating crowning his head. He wore a sturdy, and weathered set of armor, maroon in color and laden with the markings of a thousand won battles. Upon each of the shouldered, etched in chipping white paint, were two matching crests - an angry skull with the teeth and jaw line comprised of a tightly clenched fist. The mark of The Blood Pack.

“Shepard…” Kargas calmly addressed, as he encroached upon the handcuffed Commander. “I’ve been waiting a long time to confront you face to face…” He said, as he stepped right up to John, toe to toe. “Do you know who I am…?”
Shepard pretended to not understand the severity of the dire situation, despite knowing full well what he was facing. “...The event coordinator?” He sarcastically remarked, with an indifferent shrug.

Kargas’ only response was a momentary silence. He stood there, peering into Shepard’s dusky-blue eyes, with a burning loathing - the sides of his upper lip twitching like an angry dog preparing to bare its teeth. And suddenly, the bellicose krogan bared his teeth indeed, as he snarled and lunged forward at Shepard, grabbing him by the throat, and hoisting him up, a good three feet off the ground. In spite of having grabbed John by the neck, no attempts were made at constricting his windpipe - this was an exhibition of strength, plain and simple.
“Well…!” John said in a bit of a froggy voice, still finding it a bit difficult to talk, in his current predicament. “Hello to you too sunshine!”  
Gordon flinched in Shepard’s direction, only to be reminded not to make any sudden movements, by the stiff jab of a shotgun barrel in his chest from the fog-eyed Commander.

“Nnn-Nnn…” Kim dissuaded, with a rigid shake of his head.

The Normandy crew, seated along the far right wall under gunpoint, had a similar reaction to watching the plight of their intrepid leader and truest friend. But they too were suppressed by the barrels of a half a dozen aimed guns.

“My name--” The krogan began to explain, still holding Shepard high up, above his head. “--is Weyrloc Kargas…”
“Weyrloc…?!”
“Yes…” Kargas replied with a grin - pleased to have invoked John’s fearful, wide-eyed reaction. “I see that name still carries meaning for you.” He said, as Shepard’s legs dangled helplessly, two-feet off the ground. “At least you don’t merely dismiss those that you slaughter and kill... I am the last, remaining Weyrloc, Shepard - the one that’s going to extract a slow and painful vengeance from you, for the wrongs that you’ve committed against me and my entire race. And especially… For my Lukala…!” He proclaimed, as he gradually began to tighten his grip around the human’s throat.

“I didn’t want to kill them! I tried to reach a peaceful resolution with clan Weyrloc!” John asserted in a hoarse voice, as his breathing was slowly stifled. “I appealed to your Clanspeaker! To Guld! But they wouldn’t listen to reason, they left me no choice!”
“Nor do you leave me one now!” The krogan declared, as his iron-fisted grip turned into a full-on chokehold, slowly squeezing the life out of Shepard, with every diminishing breath he took.