09-09-2010, 02:07 PM
In the depths of Dark Space, the Harbinger waited.
While the others had desired nothing more than to await the vanguard's signal, Harbinger had not been so complacent.
While the others had slept off the consumption of an entire galaxy, Harbinger had watched. Pondered. Prepared.
Organic life, mutating and changing constantly. Adapting to the new in an eye blink of a Reaper's lifetime. Compared to his brethren who saw it as an accidental mutation of random chemicals, Harbinger saw potential. Rather than the short term mutations of the numerous husks, Harbinger had taken the last of the Protheans and converted them into useful, reusable tools. As their flesh failed, he spliced in more technology, successfully bonding the two and creating more productive servants than the husks had ever been.
The Collectors were but the poor, insufficient prototype. There was not a large enough sample size for Harbinger's great work. His masterpiece, which would show the Others that his view was correct. But its proof would take time. Its core would have to be selected with the greatest care. The most worthy species would form the organic matrix that would allow the new Reaper to grow, adapt, and thrive.
Thousands of species were considered, and dozens of candidates almost made it to fruition. But always events strove to defy Harbinger's will. The Krogan genophage. The destruction of the Drell homeworld. The Quarian exile. All had introduced variables into the equation that left their species incompatible with Harbinger's goal.
Shepard.
It always came back to Shepard. She had defied the vanguard. She had derailed his plans, and the end, the death of Nazara was on her hands. She was a single, insignificant organic gnat, and yet she had defied the creators of her entire universe and won.
She was perfect.
Humanity...was perfect, and she the ultimate representative of it. A calculated gamble had taken her out of play early on, allowing Harbinger's Collectors to operate unopposed, but other elements had prevented Harbinger from gaining his true prize, her remains. Still, the experiment proceeded apace.
Then the unimaginable happened. She returned. Not cloned, like thousand, million of his servants. Not a surgical resemblance. It was her. It was the bright, shining beacon of humanity's potential that had drawn his eye to their species, reborn again. And reborn like the fiery creatures of a thousand organic myths. She defied him. Denied him his prizes. Slaughtered his servants. She was everything she had been against Nazara. She danced on a thousand screens within the Harbinger's interior, data from a hundred encounters reviewed and reworked. Dozens of Collectors were reduced to burnt out shells by his direct presence so that he could study her closer. So that he could inform her of what was to come. But the knowledge of her place in the grand scheme would wait. Wait until the very end.
And as she had Nazara, she defied him as well.
The Collectors, his most powerful servants, were insufficient against her onslaught. They fought and fell and died. And their base of operations fell with them. And with them, the proto-core of Harbinger's masterpiece. But Harbinger was undeterred. Shepard had proved beyond any doubt that she and her species were the pinnacle of organic evolution in this cycle. That the newest Reaper added to their number would carry the genetic legacy of humanity into eternity.
Though the vanguard had fallen, Harbinger relayed the message. He would awake his kin. He would bring war upon this galaxy. Stars would tremble and worlds would burn at the return of the Reapers.
But humanity...humanity was to be his. And in the center of it all, he would make a shrine....a temple....a throne to incorporate Shepard into. She was beyond perfect, a paragon...and in the end, he would take great pleasure in watching her realize what she was about to become just before the Reaper was completed, uplifting her and her species to a new existence that they had earned by the right of their unique nature. She would become utterly perfect...and she would be his.
It was the only fitting existence for one so exquisite.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
While the others had desired nothing more than to await the vanguard's signal, Harbinger had not been so complacent.
While the others had slept off the consumption of an entire galaxy, Harbinger had watched. Pondered. Prepared.
Organic life, mutating and changing constantly. Adapting to the new in an eye blink of a Reaper's lifetime. Compared to his brethren who saw it as an accidental mutation of random chemicals, Harbinger saw potential. Rather than the short term mutations of the numerous husks, Harbinger had taken the last of the Protheans and converted them into useful, reusable tools. As their flesh failed, he spliced in more technology, successfully bonding the two and creating more productive servants than the husks had ever been.
The Collectors were but the poor, insufficient prototype. There was not a large enough sample size for Harbinger's great work. His masterpiece, which would show the Others that his view was correct. But its proof would take time. Its core would have to be selected with the greatest care. The most worthy species would form the organic matrix that would allow the new Reaper to grow, adapt, and thrive.
Thousands of species were considered, and dozens of candidates almost made it to fruition. But always events strove to defy Harbinger's will. The Krogan genophage. The destruction of the Drell homeworld. The Quarian exile. All had introduced variables into the equation that left their species incompatible with Harbinger's goal.
Shepard.
It always came back to Shepard. She had defied the vanguard. She had derailed his plans, and the end, the death of Nazara was on her hands. She was a single, insignificant organic gnat, and yet she had defied the creators of her entire universe and won.
She was perfect.
Humanity...was perfect, and she the ultimate representative of it. A calculated gamble had taken her out of play early on, allowing Harbinger's Collectors to operate unopposed, but other elements had prevented Harbinger from gaining his true prize, her remains. Still, the experiment proceeded apace.
Then the unimaginable happened. She returned. Not cloned, like thousand, million of his servants. Not a surgical resemblance. It was her. It was the bright, shining beacon of humanity's potential that had drawn his eye to their species, reborn again. And reborn like the fiery creatures of a thousand organic myths. She defied him. Denied him his prizes. Slaughtered his servants. She was everything she had been against Nazara. She danced on a thousand screens within the Harbinger's interior, data from a hundred encounters reviewed and reworked. Dozens of Collectors were reduced to burnt out shells by his direct presence so that he could study her closer. So that he could inform her of what was to come. But the knowledge of her place in the grand scheme would wait. Wait until the very end.
And as she had Nazara, she defied him as well.
The Collectors, his most powerful servants, were insufficient against her onslaught. They fought and fell and died. And their base of operations fell with them. And with them, the proto-core of Harbinger's masterpiece. But Harbinger was undeterred. Shepard had proved beyond any doubt that she and her species were the pinnacle of organic evolution in this cycle. That the newest Reaper added to their number would carry the genetic legacy of humanity into eternity.
Though the vanguard had fallen, Harbinger relayed the message. He would awake his kin. He would bring war upon this galaxy. Stars would tremble and worlds would burn at the return of the Reapers.
But humanity...humanity was to be his. And in the center of it all, he would make a shrine....a temple....a throne to incorporate Shepard into. She was beyond perfect, a paragon...and in the end, he would take great pleasure in watching her realize what she was about to become just before the Reaper was completed, uplifting her and her species to a new existence that they had earned by the right of their unique nature. She would become utterly perfect...and she would be his.
It was the only fitting existence for one so exquisite.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."