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3/14/2016 7:36:53 PM
1
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"We could match him." [b]Fenrir glances around again.[/b] "I wonder...did anyone else make it over besides you and Wheatley?"
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"Me..." [b]a voice from behind him says, still vaguely familiar. Shepard steps out of a nearby corridor, missing his mask. A massive scar across his face and neck tells the tale of his "death"[/b]
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[b]Fenrir stands still. He stares at Shephard, unable to move. After a few minutes he whispers, barely audible over the surrounding crowd.[/b] "You're dead."
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"Yes I am..." [b]he barely maintains a strait face for a second befor shifting into azazael and bursting into laughter[/b]
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[b]Fenrir slaps him. Hard.[/b] "What the f*ck is wrong with you people?! First Wheatley, now you?!"
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[b]he keeps laughing, Wheatley does the same[/b] "Relax man, your all inhumorous.
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She pauses, a tear forming in her eye. "No, I'm afraid not. I wasn't fast enough..."
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[b]Fenrir places his hand on her shoulder.[/b] "Look at me. It is not your fault." [b]He lowers himself to look in her eyes.[/b] "Tara. It is not your fault."
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"If I had been faster he wouldn't have been able to kill everyone!" She begins to cry.
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"Tara. If you had been faster, you would've torn yourself apart. Then he [i]really[/i] would have killed everyone. Don't blame yourself. No one else does."
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She sniffles. "Even as the holy flames devoured him the twelfth time, he laughed at their corpses." Her hands begin to shake.
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[b]He holds them still, then moves one hand down, and opens the other. He reaches into a compartment in his suit, and pulls out a match, placing it in her hand.[/b] "If you ever need help, or just need to talk to someone, light it. I will be there if I still live."
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She takes the match. "Thank you."
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She takes it and nods.
