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thelegion2017-03-19 09:15 pm
legionnpcs) wrote in thelegion2017-03-19 09:15 pm
Legionnaire Legacies: Locus [video]
[The Legion World staff maintains a feed of all Legion-related media so Legionnaires can be kept abreast of any reporting that's done on them. Two women appear on the screen, sitting at a desk, their appearances altered by glam filters so that one is all pink hair and skin and sparkles, and the other is all in blues. They look pretty flashy and tacky but this is the future. Reporters don't exist anymore; they're "personalities" now.]
Shellee: I'm Shellee Star! [That would be the pink one.]
Tammee: And I'm Tammee Tim! [That would be the blue one.]
Shellee: And this is another investigative episode of of Legion Watch: Legionnaire Legacies! Today, our featured Legionnaire brings up a rather controversial question: should a so-called 'hero' be weighed by the sum of their deeds, both good and evil?
Tammee: Or can a person some would consider downright villainous change their ways, fight against the dark urges in their heart, and find redemption among the ranks of the Legion?
Shellee: Villain? Oh my. That seems a little harsh, doesn't it?
Tammee: The truth is harsh, Shellee. And we here are dedicated to uncovering the truth. As I've always said, the public has a right to know.
Shellee: Too true, Tammee. Well, viewers! If you want sinful secrets brought to light and checkered pasts laid bare, look no further. This is no tale of knights in shining armor. This is the Legion's very own armored bad boy, Locus!
[There's a brief scroll for content warnings. Violence, adult language, all the wonderful things one can expect from war and military conflict.]
Tammee: Those of you who watched our spotlight on Master Chief and Cortana will remember the tale we told of an alternate 26th century. Space has been colonized, and devastating war has broken out between the human-governed United Nations Space Command and the Covenant, an alliance of over a dozen species driven by zealotry to attempt to exterminate humanity from the galaxy.
Shellee: A war of this magnitude called on many to step forward and serve as the first line of defense. And from a young age, Samuel Ortez knew he wanted to serve a cause greater than himself.
[July 2530 - The Rubble, 23 Librae System. The scene is the inside of a cramped apartment kitchen with a clear view to an equally small living room, where a reporter on the television declares the latest statistics on the on-going war efforts. A young, gangly youth no more than ten years old watches with rapt, attentive eyes from the kitchen's threshold. It seems as though he's listening for something in particular, waiting, before a stern "¡Mijo, ven aquí!" summons him reluctantly away from the report.
Even so, his attention seems more on the sliver of television he can still see than the dishes he's meant to be cleaning, which clink away in the sink as he scrubs.]
Tammee: Though he lost a father and his childhood home on Madrigal to the war, that didn't some him from enlisting as soon as he came of age. He was eager to fight for a noble cause and defend humanity's right to exist in the universe.
Shellee: But the war soon proved to be nothing like the stories he'd grown up hearing...
[Those same gray eyes are reflected in the flecks and cracks of a yellow, broken visor, the center obviously shot out of it, as Locus stares down at standard MJOLNIR helmet. His trademark scar is still fresh, red and vivid across his face, obviously recently earned and quite possibly as a result of the damaged helmet in his hand.
A certain Legionnaire might recognize the music overlaying this scene.
The interior is that of a military installation, though it's strangely quiet, save the distant thoom in the distant that seems to resonate in the steel. As he lowers the helmet and reaches for another, now the familiar visor-less LOCUS model, another similarly-suited soldier pokes her head into the room.]
Squadmate: Hey, Ortez! We need you outside. Looks like patrol caught something.
[Frowning briefly, Locus gives a short nod.]
Locus: On my way.
[Tugging his helmet into place -- though instead of black, the overall color is a matching beige to the rest of his squad -- Locus moves to follow his fellow soldier to the exterior of the base. The captain has a handful of soldiers trained on a large, reptile-like alien figure, who is clearly wounded and hunkered down in a defensive position, but not attacking.
Approaching from the other side? Is another squadmate, this one in a very familiar Scout model helmet, for those who fought against him during Out With the Old. Locus huffs in clear irritation at the sight of him as the slighter soldier steps up...]
Felix: I say we blow its brains out.
Locus: That's your answer to everything.
[The alien creature shifts its gaze to Locus, so far the only one with a weapon not trained on it, as though hoping to communicate something to him by eye contact alone. Locus stills, but the captain is having none of it.]
Captain: Hey! You quit eyeballing my men and give me some answers. Are you alone?
[The creature rumbles, some guttural language that clearly isn't English. It appears to make the other soldiers nervous, glancing at one another. What's it saying? But Locus seems to clue in before the others.]
Locus: Sir, I think it's trying to surrender.
Felix: Bullshit, I think it's stalling! Sir, this feels like a trap.
Captain: Private, I did not ask you for your opinion-
[Meanwhile the alien starts to move and gesture, obviously frustrated with not being understood, which does no favors for the nervous soldiers. They shout in alarm, readying their weapons.]
Felix: Sir, this thing's wasting our time and we're in no position to start taking prisoners.
Captain: ...Fine. You two, move it into one of these buildings and take it out. Quietly.
Locus: Sir, it's scared.
Captain: If it's smart, it should be.
Locus: If we could restrain it, we could-
[But the captain has clearly had enough of his soldiers talking back to him today, and wheels on Locus, voice raising.]
Captain: Son, you listen here! You're a soldier. In this war, you are nothing but a suit of armor and a gun! So when I give you an order you damn well follow it! Do I make myself clear?!
[Cut away to Locus bursting back into the barracks, bee-lining for the washroom before tearing his helmet off. His breathing, and his hands, are very shaky as he splashes water over his face, before moving to grip the edge of the sink. He gulps, glances upwards, and shakes his head before looking away again. Some point on the metal edge that isn't his own face, anything at all.]
Locus: Just following orders...I was...
[He appears to be testing the words, closing his eyes tight. Just follow orders. Or running over them again and again until they sink in. I was only following orders. Gradually, it seems to work. Whatever breakdown he's having is being shored up by those words. Each time he says them, it comes out steadier, until he can finally look up at himself in the mirror without flinching away.]
Locus: A soldier follows orders. I was following orders.
[He tries to school his expression into something flat, but it doesn't appear to be working. There's still something in his eyes that betrays him, and he glances back down at the LOCUS helmet on the floor. Slowly, he reaches down, stares into the cold, skull-like expression before tugging it into place. The deep resonance of the filter gives the words an ominous tone as he repeats them, one more time.]
Locus: ...I was just following orders.
[Finally, it feels as though it fits.]
Tammee: Such cruelty in the face of war could shatter the resolve of any young idealist.
Shellee: To survive the horror of each battle being fought, hearts were hardened. And for every death there proved to be two victims, one on each end of the weapon being fired.
Tammee: But the most heartbreaking battle was yet to come. The loss of nearly his entire squad on one of the bloodiest battles in UNSC history pushed our would-be hero past the tipping point...
Shellee: And someone happened to be there to pick up the pieces.
[The music is somber and grim, as the caption reads September 2552 - New Jerusalem, Cygnus System, and the landscape pictured is laid to waste. Whatever this planet once looked like, it now resembles nothing more than a sort of living hellscape.
Their squad lies dead around them, where they've been entrenched for some time. Locus is peering through his sniper scope across the craggy landscape for any sign of movement, but it's clear within a few moments that his breathing is heavy. Several patches of his armor are oozing red too dark and clotted with dust and God knows what else to tell how bad it really is, but he refuses to move an inch. Not even when a hand comes down on his shoulder.]
Felix: Still with me, Ortez?
[Locus says nothing, even as Felix crouches beside him, panting but clearly the less injured of the two. Everything is quiet, save the distant noise of battle coming from out of sight. Rising smoke and the sparks of light in the distance say it's still going.]
Felix: They're evacuating the planet. We move now, we might actually get there in time to get out of this shithole. You lay some cover fire like before and we can--
Locus: Our orders are to hold this position.
[Felix stares for a moment at Locus's toneless words, as if waiting for the punchline.]
Felix: Ha ha. You're hilarious. Now get your ass moving, we need to flip that Warthog back over and pray to whoever's listening nothing important fell off.
[With a grunt Felix pulls himself upright and starts limping towards the aforementioned vehicle, lying on its side. The captain appears to have been crushed beneath it, but Felix pays the corpse little mind before glancing over his shoulder.]
Felix: Little help?
[Nothing. Swearing under his breath, Felix limps back to where Locus sits motionless.]
Felix: Hey, asshole! You hear what I said? Covenant's glassing this place. We? Have. To. Go.
Locus: Our orders are--
Felix: Jesus fucking Christ.
[It's clear that this is not going the way he wants, and they're running out of time. A moment passes and he moves closer again, crouching down beside Locus. He takes in the puddle of blood sitting under Locus before changing tactics, voice urgent but quiet.]
Felix: Look, I get it. Got to follow orders, cause you're a soldier. But see, our orders weren't sit here and die on this rock. You get me? Captain gave us orders to guard this spot, but last I heard? Top brass gave orders to win this war. You win a lot of wars by dying, Ortez?
[It works. Locus slowly turns his head to look at him. Feeling victory at hand, Felix presses on, one hand settling at Locus's back.]
Felix: These guys followed orders and they died. But we're better than them. You hear me? We're gonna survive. Only people who get to do that are the ones that earn it. Right?
[There's a long pause, and a very slight nod. He wants to believe that. He wants to believe that there's a reason they're all dead, that he's not, that they continue to exist in the midst of all of this. He needs to believe it, and he eats up Felix's words as they fall from his mouth. Felix's hungry smile, meanwhile, is damn near audible.]
Felix: Fuck yeah I'm right. So c'mon partner. Let's fucking earn it.
[And when he offers a hand down to yank Locus up, he finally takes it.]
Tammee: And so these two battle-hardened veterans turned to one another for support. Back-to-back, they made a solemn vow to one another then and there to see each other through the end of the war.
Shellee: But when the war was over, neither could find a place back in the world of civilian life. What they had seen and done shaped them forever. They turned to the only thing that gave them purpose and made them feel alive, and decided to use their skills to earn a living by fighting a new battle. The bounty hunters Locus and Felix were born!
[What follows is a montage: colorful, jazzy, and slick. The accompanying music is much more upbeat than the dour preceedings, and follows Locus -- out of his armor at last -- on a series of high-octane fights on various jobs apprehending suspects. Gun fights? Yes.
Hand-to-hand fights? Also yes.
Hot sniper action? That's a yes.
Felix is present as well, though either shot from behind or with an orange mask and glasses in place to hide his face. There's a third individual in some of the shots, but no real time is spent to explaining his presence in the proceedings, and his ultimate fate is left unknown. Which is terrible storytelling.]
Tammee: It should have been a bright new beginning for the two wayward souls.
Shellee: But over time, the honest jobs they could find started to dwindle. Suddenly, survival wasn't just a matter of fighting the bad guys. Moral clarity fell by the wayside as the pay proved to be much more substantial for dirtier work. Something Felix never shied away from, as it turned out. Greed motivated him to start rationalizing ransom, theft, and even murder, if the price was right.
[The jobs continue, though now they move to more high-profile locales. Government buildings. Military bases. And the two are seen more often in armor than not as the violence only escalates. Felix can be seen wheeling and dealing, discussing prospective jobs while Locus merely looms in the background, a silent but intimidating presence.]
Tammee: And Sam, now going only by the name of the armor that defined him in the war, could no longer stop to justify the horrific deeds they were being hired on to do. If he did, every life he had taken, dating back to his time as a soldier, could be called into question. Rather than face what he'd done, even if only to stop their steady decline into criminal action, Locus could only tell himself that he was doing what was asked of him. He was only following orders.
Shellee: A fact his partner Felix seemed only too happy to exploit in order to keep him close at hand. Alone he might not have had nearly this much success, but together? Their infamy for efficiency grew in the criminal underground.
Tammee: Then came the big job. The biggest job the two had been given to date.
[January 2556 - Chorus labels the scene to follow. Felix and Locus are both shown, but now? No longer together. Instead they're shown greeting the leaders of two very different armies. Felix is seen reporting to a rag-tag group of multi-colored rebels in the ruins of a base built into a cliff-face, labeled Headquarters - New Republic of Chorus.
Locus, on the other hand, looms over the general of a prim and well-disciplined white-armored unit in a much more put-together base overlooking a vast landscape, labeled Headquarters - Federal Army of Chorus.]
Shellee: The money from they would make would set them for life, their employer promised. All they had to do was infiltrate a civil war, already taking place on a distant planet called Chorus, and ensure the war escalated and continued. The effort would take years, and the end goal...was nothing less than the elimination of every living being on the planet.
[The music takes a far more sinister turn. Mere flashes of the war are given, rebels being galvanized by a seemingly-desperate Felix to push forward despite the odds. The Federal Army following Locus's lead into the fray. It's clear the soldiers know to fear him. It's clear that it's for good reason. Even before his powers were granted to him, he was an excellent shot, and there's no mercy shown to the young soldiers who get caught in his sights.
All the while, Locus never seemed hurried. Never panicked. This is clearly his element, now, and not even the enormity of the task at hand seems to give him pause.]
Tammee: This terrible onslaught might have continued to its morbid conclusion, but fear not viewers. All hope wasn't lost.
Shellee: It was during this conflict, after all, that Locus met another of our Legionnaires, none other than our very own Freelancer! Discovering the plot at work and the sinister scope of the mercenary's operations, Freelancer stood between the people of Chorus and the plot against their lives.
[Alone on the battlefield, within the structure of a communication tower, the two soldiers circle one another. Locus's form can barely be seen, a faint shimmering outline walking along the upper catwalks and rock formations, while Washington turns, his gun raised, searching for a sign of him.]
Locus: You were ruthless! You were a survivor!
Washington: I was a different person.
Locus: No, you were a soldier.
Washington: You say that like they're two different things.
Locus: When a true soldier is told to kill, he kills. He does not question why. He does not mourn the fallen. He fulfills his role, and moves on to the next.
Washington: Is that what you want to be? A true soldier?
[And Locus abruptly appears overhead, taking aim.]
Locus: No. That is what I am.
[Washington dives out of the way, firing. Neither scores a shot, but Locus soon vanishes from sight again. Washington is shown sometime later, now actively calling out to the invisible merc.]
Washington: You keep trying to play yourself off as some sort of weapon. That you don't care about anyone or anything. But that fact that you're trying so hard to understand me breaks your entire act. No matter how hard you may want to be? You're not a machine.
Tammee: Those words struck deep, and gave the soldier pause for the first time in years. For so long, Locus could only consider himself a weapon, in service to whatever cause found a use for him.
Shellee: Freelancer had seen the truth within him, that there was a man worth reaching out to behind the terrifying exterior facade of a ruthless mercenary. The longer Locus considered Freelancer's words, the less certain of his current path he became.
Tammee: But Felix wasn't going to let go of his partner without a fight.
[The caption now reads March 2557 - The Purge, Chorus, and the landscape couldn't be more different. Red tinges the sky as spikes of rock and earth jut skyward like a toothy maw, surrounding a tall tower in the center of a deep depression in the earth. A blue hard-light bridge stretches across the vast chasm, and floating platforms drift in slow circles around the building. Four figures stand on the bridge: Felix and Locus, and opposing them guarding the tower? Washington and a teal-suited soldier wearing similar armor.]
Washington: Think about what you're doing. If you activate this tower it kills everyone. Our soldiers, and yours.
Felix: That's war, Wash. Not everyone makes it back.
Washington: They can if you turn away. You can choose to end this now.
[Locus, who'd been standing at the ready, suddenly looks away. It's clear he's having a moment of conscience, considering what's being said. Felix, however, notices. Immediately a hand settles on Locus's shoulder.]
Felix: No. We can't. We have our orders. Right, partner?
[It works. His posture straightens, his resolve found once more, and the conversation ends in a fantastic fight that begins as a firefight on the bridge, but escalates as each pair tries to outmaneuver the other, winding up with an improbable fight on one of the floating platforms. Locus remains on top, fighting the teal warrior, while Felix and Washington duel it out beneath them, held to the bottom of the platform as it floats with the help of their grav boots.
Finally, the four wind up on top together, and while Felix lunges for the teal soldier, Locus squares off against Wash, pinning him to the platform and attempting to drive a knife into his helmet.]
Locus: Just...die!
Washington: Nngh...Killing me won't make you feel better. It'll just prove my point.
[Desperate now, his resolve crumbling, Locus once more looks up to his partner.]
Locus: Felix!
[But Washington takes the opportunity and knocks him aside. The moment seems to slow just for Locus as he stares at the fight taking place, at the tower, not pulling to his feet just yet.]
Shellee: Some part of him fell back to that pivotal moment, and Freelancer's words were starting to make sense to him.
Tammee: And everything would be decided in the aftermath of that fateful battle. Defeated, lost, and questioning his purpose, Locus looked to his partner one last time for guidance...and found an unexpected answer that changed everything.
[In another tower, white and pristine and alien, Locus lies crumpled against the wall. Exhaustion and pain is written all over him, and he grunts as Felix dumps a gun into his lap, detailing how he wants to ambush their prey. Locus's head lolls for a moment before he glances upwards, finally seeming to follow what's happening. Enough to respond.]
Locus: Our numbers are falling. The mission...
[And Felix whirls on him, furious.]
Felix: Fuck the mission! Jesus Christ, for once in your life would you forget about following goddamn orders! I'm not doing this for Hargrove. I'm doing this for me.
[He stalks away, leaving Locus to pull himself to his feet. Something seems to be clicking into place. And when the scene shifts to Felix's ambush, the orange merc is outnumbered. On his knees and surrounded. But he laughs. He laughs even as Locus approaches the scene, unseen. He laughs until the gun he'd dropped into Locus's lap is thrown to the ground in front of him. Only then does Locus appear, and the multi-colored soldiers around them startle, the one closest raising their weapon. But he only glances briefly at them before focusing on Felix.]
Felix: Locus, what are you doing? You were supposed to kill them!
Locus: ...no.
[All appear shocked by this, no more so than Felix, but Locus presses on.]
Locus: No more killing.
Felix: What are you talking about? You're a soldier, remember?
Locus: I'm not a soldier. I'm a monster. Like you.
Felix: Locus, we're partners. Survivors. We need each other. What about our orders? Our reward? Becoming the ultimate weapon!
Locus: I'm not doing this for the reward. I'm not doing this because someone told me to. I'm doing this for me.
Felix: ...then you can die with the rest of them.
[Felix throws a bladed weapon, but Locus lunges out of the way, and in short order the other soldiers attack, blowing Felix off the edge of the tower. Locus, in turn, moves to walk away.]
Locus: I'm going to make things right...but not from inside a cell.
Shellee: A journey like this leaves a lot of questions in the minds of those who discover it. Is there a point from which there is no coming back? Can that much evil be undone by dedicating your life to balancing the scales? Is it ever too late to choose to do the right thing?
Tammee: It's not for us to answer, but taking an oath to the Legion might be just the first step of a new journey for this exciting redemption arc. And now, with the truth in the open, we'll all be eagerly watching to see how it unfolds!
Shellee: For more Legion action, be sure to keep tuning in! This is Shellee Star!
Tammee: And Tammee Tim!
Both: And this was Legionnaire Legacies!
Shellee: I'm Shellee Star! [That would be the pink one.]
Tammee: And I'm Tammee Tim! [That would be the blue one.]
Shellee: And this is another investigative episode of of Legion Watch: Legionnaire Legacies! Today, our featured Legionnaire brings up a rather controversial question: should a so-called 'hero' be weighed by the sum of their deeds, both good and evil?
Tammee: Or can a person some would consider downright villainous change their ways, fight against the dark urges in their heart, and find redemption among the ranks of the Legion?
Shellee: Villain? Oh my. That seems a little harsh, doesn't it?
Tammee: The truth is harsh, Shellee. And we here are dedicated to uncovering the truth. As I've always said, the public has a right to know.
Shellee: Too true, Tammee. Well, viewers! If you want sinful secrets brought to light and checkered pasts laid bare, look no further. This is no tale of knights in shining armor. This is the Legion's very own armored bad boy, Locus!
[There's a brief scroll for content warnings. Violence, adult language, all the wonderful things one can expect from war and military conflict.]
Tammee: Those of you who watched our spotlight on Master Chief and Cortana will remember the tale we told of an alternate 26th century. Space has been colonized, and devastating war has broken out between the human-governed United Nations Space Command and the Covenant, an alliance of over a dozen species driven by zealotry to attempt to exterminate humanity from the galaxy.
Shellee: A war of this magnitude called on many to step forward and serve as the first line of defense. And from a young age, Samuel Ortez knew he wanted to serve a cause greater than himself.
[July 2530 - The Rubble, 23 Librae System. The scene is the inside of a cramped apartment kitchen with a clear view to an equally small living room, where a reporter on the television declares the latest statistics on the on-going war efforts. A young, gangly youth no more than ten years old watches with rapt, attentive eyes from the kitchen's threshold. It seems as though he's listening for something in particular, waiting, before a stern "¡Mijo, ven aquí!" summons him reluctantly away from the report.
Even so, his attention seems more on the sliver of television he can still see than the dishes he's meant to be cleaning, which clink away in the sink as he scrubs.]
Tammee: Though he lost a father and his childhood home on Madrigal to the war, that didn't some him from enlisting as soon as he came of age. He was eager to fight for a noble cause and defend humanity's right to exist in the universe.
Shellee: But the war soon proved to be nothing like the stories he'd grown up hearing...
[Those same gray eyes are reflected in the flecks and cracks of a yellow, broken visor, the center obviously shot out of it, as Locus stares down at standard MJOLNIR helmet. His trademark scar is still fresh, red and vivid across his face, obviously recently earned and quite possibly as a result of the damaged helmet in his hand.
A certain Legionnaire might recognize the music overlaying this scene.
The interior is that of a military installation, though it's strangely quiet, save the distant thoom in the distant that seems to resonate in the steel. As he lowers the helmet and reaches for another, now the familiar visor-less LOCUS model, another similarly-suited soldier pokes her head into the room.]
Squadmate: Hey, Ortez! We need you outside. Looks like patrol caught something.
[Frowning briefly, Locus gives a short nod.]
Locus: On my way.
[Tugging his helmet into place -- though instead of black, the overall color is a matching beige to the rest of his squad -- Locus moves to follow his fellow soldier to the exterior of the base. The captain has a handful of soldiers trained on a large, reptile-like alien figure, who is clearly wounded and hunkered down in a defensive position, but not attacking.
Approaching from the other side? Is another squadmate, this one in a very familiar Scout model helmet, for those who fought against him during Out With the Old. Locus huffs in clear irritation at the sight of him as the slighter soldier steps up...]
Felix: I say we blow its brains out.
Locus: That's your answer to everything.
[The alien creature shifts its gaze to Locus, so far the only one with a weapon not trained on it, as though hoping to communicate something to him by eye contact alone. Locus stills, but the captain is having none of it.]
Captain: Hey! You quit eyeballing my men and give me some answers. Are you alone?
[The creature rumbles, some guttural language that clearly isn't English. It appears to make the other soldiers nervous, glancing at one another. What's it saying? But Locus seems to clue in before the others.]
Locus: Sir, I think it's trying to surrender.
Felix: Bullshit, I think it's stalling! Sir, this feels like a trap.
Captain: Private, I did not ask you for your opinion-
[Meanwhile the alien starts to move and gesture, obviously frustrated with not being understood, which does no favors for the nervous soldiers. They shout in alarm, readying their weapons.]
Felix: Sir, this thing's wasting our time and we're in no position to start taking prisoners.
Captain: ...Fine. You two, move it into one of these buildings and take it out. Quietly.
Locus: Sir, it's scared.
Captain: If it's smart, it should be.
Locus: If we could restrain it, we could-
[But the captain has clearly had enough of his soldiers talking back to him today, and wheels on Locus, voice raising.]
Captain: Son, you listen here! You're a soldier. In this war, you are nothing but a suit of armor and a gun! So when I give you an order you damn well follow it! Do I make myself clear?!
[Cut away to Locus bursting back into the barracks, bee-lining for the washroom before tearing his helmet off. His breathing, and his hands, are very shaky as he splashes water over his face, before moving to grip the edge of the sink. He gulps, glances upwards, and shakes his head before looking away again. Some point on the metal edge that isn't his own face, anything at all.]
Locus: Just following orders...I was...
[He appears to be testing the words, closing his eyes tight. Just follow orders. Or running over them again and again until they sink in. I was only following orders. Gradually, it seems to work. Whatever breakdown he's having is being shored up by those words. Each time he says them, it comes out steadier, until he can finally look up at himself in the mirror without flinching away.]
Locus: A soldier follows orders. I was following orders.
[He tries to school his expression into something flat, but it doesn't appear to be working. There's still something in his eyes that betrays him, and he glances back down at the LOCUS helmet on the floor. Slowly, he reaches down, stares into the cold, skull-like expression before tugging it into place. The deep resonance of the filter gives the words an ominous tone as he repeats them, one more time.]
Locus: ...I was just following orders.
[Finally, it feels as though it fits.]
Tammee: Such cruelty in the face of war could shatter the resolve of any young idealist.
Shellee: To survive the horror of each battle being fought, hearts were hardened. And for every death there proved to be two victims, one on each end of the weapon being fired.
Tammee: But the most heartbreaking battle was yet to come. The loss of nearly his entire squad on one of the bloodiest battles in UNSC history pushed our would-be hero past the tipping point...
Shellee: And someone happened to be there to pick up the pieces.
[The music is somber and grim, as the caption reads September 2552 - New Jerusalem, Cygnus System, and the landscape pictured is laid to waste. Whatever this planet once looked like, it now resembles nothing more than a sort of living hellscape.
Their squad lies dead around them, where they've been entrenched for some time. Locus is peering through his sniper scope across the craggy landscape for any sign of movement, but it's clear within a few moments that his breathing is heavy. Several patches of his armor are oozing red too dark and clotted with dust and God knows what else to tell how bad it really is, but he refuses to move an inch. Not even when a hand comes down on his shoulder.]
Felix: Still with me, Ortez?
[Locus says nothing, even as Felix crouches beside him, panting but clearly the less injured of the two. Everything is quiet, save the distant noise of battle coming from out of sight. Rising smoke and the sparks of light in the distance say it's still going.]
Felix: They're evacuating the planet. We move now, we might actually get there in time to get out of this shithole. You lay some cover fire like before and we can--
Locus: Our orders are to hold this position.
[Felix stares for a moment at Locus's toneless words, as if waiting for the punchline.]
Felix: Ha ha. You're hilarious. Now get your ass moving, we need to flip that Warthog back over and pray to whoever's listening nothing important fell off.
[With a grunt Felix pulls himself upright and starts limping towards the aforementioned vehicle, lying on its side. The captain appears to have been crushed beneath it, but Felix pays the corpse little mind before glancing over his shoulder.]
Felix: Little help?
[Nothing. Swearing under his breath, Felix limps back to where Locus sits motionless.]
Felix: Hey, asshole! You hear what I said? Covenant's glassing this place. We? Have. To. Go.
Locus: Our orders are--
Felix: Jesus fucking Christ.
[It's clear that this is not going the way he wants, and they're running out of time. A moment passes and he moves closer again, crouching down beside Locus. He takes in the puddle of blood sitting under Locus before changing tactics, voice urgent but quiet.]
Felix: Look, I get it. Got to follow orders, cause you're a soldier. But see, our orders weren't sit here and die on this rock. You get me? Captain gave us orders to guard this spot, but last I heard? Top brass gave orders to win this war. You win a lot of wars by dying, Ortez?
[It works. Locus slowly turns his head to look at him. Feeling victory at hand, Felix presses on, one hand settling at Locus's back.]
Felix: These guys followed orders and they died. But we're better than them. You hear me? We're gonna survive. Only people who get to do that are the ones that earn it. Right?
[There's a long pause, and a very slight nod. He wants to believe that. He wants to believe that there's a reason they're all dead, that he's not, that they continue to exist in the midst of all of this. He needs to believe it, and he eats up Felix's words as they fall from his mouth. Felix's hungry smile, meanwhile, is damn near audible.]
Felix: Fuck yeah I'm right. So c'mon partner. Let's fucking earn it.
[And when he offers a hand down to yank Locus up, he finally takes it.]
Tammee: And so these two battle-hardened veterans turned to one another for support. Back-to-back, they made a solemn vow to one another then and there to see each other through the end of the war.
Shellee: But when the war was over, neither could find a place back in the world of civilian life. What they had seen and done shaped them forever. They turned to the only thing that gave them purpose and made them feel alive, and decided to use their skills to earn a living by fighting a new battle. The bounty hunters Locus and Felix were born!
[What follows is a montage: colorful, jazzy, and slick. The accompanying music is much more upbeat than the dour preceedings, and follows Locus -- out of his armor at last -- on a series of high-octane fights on various jobs apprehending suspects. Gun fights? Yes.
Hand-to-hand fights? Also yes.
Hot sniper action? That's a yes.
Felix is present as well, though either shot from behind or with an orange mask and glasses in place to hide his face. There's a third individual in some of the shots, but no real time is spent to explaining his presence in the proceedings, and his ultimate fate is left unknown. Which is terrible storytelling.]
Tammee: It should have been a bright new beginning for the two wayward souls.
Shellee: But over time, the honest jobs they could find started to dwindle. Suddenly, survival wasn't just a matter of fighting the bad guys. Moral clarity fell by the wayside as the pay proved to be much more substantial for dirtier work. Something Felix never shied away from, as it turned out. Greed motivated him to start rationalizing ransom, theft, and even murder, if the price was right.
[The jobs continue, though now they move to more high-profile locales. Government buildings. Military bases. And the two are seen more often in armor than not as the violence only escalates. Felix can be seen wheeling and dealing, discussing prospective jobs while Locus merely looms in the background, a silent but intimidating presence.]
Tammee: And Sam, now going only by the name of the armor that defined him in the war, could no longer stop to justify the horrific deeds they were being hired on to do. If he did, every life he had taken, dating back to his time as a soldier, could be called into question. Rather than face what he'd done, even if only to stop their steady decline into criminal action, Locus could only tell himself that he was doing what was asked of him. He was only following orders.
Shellee: A fact his partner Felix seemed only too happy to exploit in order to keep him close at hand. Alone he might not have had nearly this much success, but together? Their infamy for efficiency grew in the criminal underground.
Tammee: Then came the big job. The biggest job the two had been given to date.
[January 2556 - Chorus labels the scene to follow. Felix and Locus are both shown, but now? No longer together. Instead they're shown greeting the leaders of two very different armies. Felix is seen reporting to a rag-tag group of multi-colored rebels in the ruins of a base built into a cliff-face, labeled Headquarters - New Republic of Chorus.
Locus, on the other hand, looms over the general of a prim and well-disciplined white-armored unit in a much more put-together base overlooking a vast landscape, labeled Headquarters - Federal Army of Chorus.]
Shellee: The money from they would make would set them for life, their employer promised. All they had to do was infiltrate a civil war, already taking place on a distant planet called Chorus, and ensure the war escalated and continued. The effort would take years, and the end goal...was nothing less than the elimination of every living being on the planet.
[The music takes a far more sinister turn. Mere flashes of the war are given, rebels being galvanized by a seemingly-desperate Felix to push forward despite the odds. The Federal Army following Locus's lead into the fray. It's clear the soldiers know to fear him. It's clear that it's for good reason. Even before his powers were granted to him, he was an excellent shot, and there's no mercy shown to the young soldiers who get caught in his sights.
All the while, Locus never seemed hurried. Never panicked. This is clearly his element, now, and not even the enormity of the task at hand seems to give him pause.]
Tammee: This terrible onslaught might have continued to its morbid conclusion, but fear not viewers. All hope wasn't lost.
Shellee: It was during this conflict, after all, that Locus met another of our Legionnaires, none other than our very own Freelancer! Discovering the plot at work and the sinister scope of the mercenary's operations, Freelancer stood between the people of Chorus and the plot against their lives.
[Alone on the battlefield, within the structure of a communication tower, the two soldiers circle one another. Locus's form can barely be seen, a faint shimmering outline walking along the upper catwalks and rock formations, while Washington turns, his gun raised, searching for a sign of him.]
Locus: You were ruthless! You were a survivor!
Washington: I was a different person.
Locus: No, you were a soldier.
Washington: You say that like they're two different things.
Locus: When a true soldier is told to kill, he kills. He does not question why. He does not mourn the fallen. He fulfills his role, and moves on to the next.
Washington: Is that what you want to be? A true soldier?
[And Locus abruptly appears overhead, taking aim.]
Locus: No. That is what I am.
[Washington dives out of the way, firing. Neither scores a shot, but Locus soon vanishes from sight again. Washington is shown sometime later, now actively calling out to the invisible merc.]
Washington: You keep trying to play yourself off as some sort of weapon. That you don't care about anyone or anything. But that fact that you're trying so hard to understand me breaks your entire act. No matter how hard you may want to be? You're not a machine.
Tammee: Those words struck deep, and gave the soldier pause for the first time in years. For so long, Locus could only consider himself a weapon, in service to whatever cause found a use for him.
Shellee: Freelancer had seen the truth within him, that there was a man worth reaching out to behind the terrifying exterior facade of a ruthless mercenary. The longer Locus considered Freelancer's words, the less certain of his current path he became.
Tammee: But Felix wasn't going to let go of his partner without a fight.
[The caption now reads March 2557 - The Purge, Chorus, and the landscape couldn't be more different. Red tinges the sky as spikes of rock and earth jut skyward like a toothy maw, surrounding a tall tower in the center of a deep depression in the earth. A blue hard-light bridge stretches across the vast chasm, and floating platforms drift in slow circles around the building. Four figures stand on the bridge: Felix and Locus, and opposing them guarding the tower? Washington and a teal-suited soldier wearing similar armor.]
Washington: Think about what you're doing. If you activate this tower it kills everyone. Our soldiers, and yours.
Felix: That's war, Wash. Not everyone makes it back.
Washington: They can if you turn away. You can choose to end this now.
[Locus, who'd been standing at the ready, suddenly looks away. It's clear he's having a moment of conscience, considering what's being said. Felix, however, notices. Immediately a hand settles on Locus's shoulder.]
Felix: No. We can't. We have our orders. Right, partner?
[It works. His posture straightens, his resolve found once more, and the conversation ends in a fantastic fight that begins as a firefight on the bridge, but escalates as each pair tries to outmaneuver the other, winding up with an improbable fight on one of the floating platforms. Locus remains on top, fighting the teal warrior, while Felix and Washington duel it out beneath them, held to the bottom of the platform as it floats with the help of their grav boots.
Finally, the four wind up on top together, and while Felix lunges for the teal soldier, Locus squares off against Wash, pinning him to the platform and attempting to drive a knife into his helmet.]
Locus: Just...die!
Washington: Nngh...Killing me won't make you feel better. It'll just prove my point.
[Desperate now, his resolve crumbling, Locus once more looks up to his partner.]
Locus: Felix!
[But Washington takes the opportunity and knocks him aside. The moment seems to slow just for Locus as he stares at the fight taking place, at the tower, not pulling to his feet just yet.]
Shellee: Some part of him fell back to that pivotal moment, and Freelancer's words were starting to make sense to him.
Tammee: And everything would be decided in the aftermath of that fateful battle. Defeated, lost, and questioning his purpose, Locus looked to his partner one last time for guidance...and found an unexpected answer that changed everything.
[In another tower, white and pristine and alien, Locus lies crumpled against the wall. Exhaustion and pain is written all over him, and he grunts as Felix dumps a gun into his lap, detailing how he wants to ambush their prey. Locus's head lolls for a moment before he glances upwards, finally seeming to follow what's happening. Enough to respond.]
Locus: Our numbers are falling. The mission...
[And Felix whirls on him, furious.]
Felix: Fuck the mission! Jesus Christ, for once in your life would you forget about following goddamn orders! I'm not doing this for Hargrove. I'm doing this for me.
[He stalks away, leaving Locus to pull himself to his feet. Something seems to be clicking into place. And when the scene shifts to Felix's ambush, the orange merc is outnumbered. On his knees and surrounded. But he laughs. He laughs even as Locus approaches the scene, unseen. He laughs until the gun he'd dropped into Locus's lap is thrown to the ground in front of him. Only then does Locus appear, and the multi-colored soldiers around them startle, the one closest raising their weapon. But he only glances briefly at them before focusing on Felix.]
Felix: Locus, what are you doing? You were supposed to kill them!
Locus: ...no.
[All appear shocked by this, no more so than Felix, but Locus presses on.]
Locus: No more killing.
Felix: What are you talking about? You're a soldier, remember?
Locus: I'm not a soldier. I'm a monster. Like you.
Felix: Locus, we're partners. Survivors. We need each other. What about our orders? Our reward? Becoming the ultimate weapon!
Locus: I'm not doing this for the reward. I'm not doing this because someone told me to. I'm doing this for me.
Felix: ...then you can die with the rest of them.
[Felix throws a bladed weapon, but Locus lunges out of the way, and in short order the other soldiers attack, blowing Felix off the edge of the tower. Locus, in turn, moves to walk away.]
Locus: I'm going to make things right...but not from inside a cell.
Shellee: A journey like this leaves a lot of questions in the minds of those who discover it. Is there a point from which there is no coming back? Can that much evil be undone by dedicating your life to balancing the scales? Is it ever too late to choose to do the right thing?
Tammee: It's not for us to answer, but taking an oath to the Legion might be just the first step of a new journey for this exciting redemption arc. And now, with the truth in the open, we'll all be eagerly watching to see how it unfolds!
Shellee: For more Legion action, be sure to keep tuning in! This is Shellee Star!
Tammee: And Tammee Tim!
Both: And this was Legionnaire Legacies!
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[ Which is admittedly not an answer to the question. But it seems easier to supply than 'the base wasn't an enclosed enough space for me' because that just...reinforces the whole idea that something's wrong with him. That this is a coping mechanism.
If he knew how to handle those, he already would have. ]
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[ Whole other kettle of fish and shit. ]
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Locus swallows, gaze averting. ]
The compression helped.
[ Past tense, really. There's nothing that's going to ease anything about this moment, but he's not foolish enough to believe he deserves to be comfortable with anything this conversation will bring up. ]
On phone so PROSE
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This seems diversionary. If he's going to yell, he should do so, so they can move on. Worry about his comfort later. Maybe drink some of this tension away.
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"Ten minutes. Okay? Okay." He pats Locus' shoulder and jogs out, heading back to his habitat. When he returns he's got his arms full of something bulky and heavy.
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He may have also finally gotten around to having a swig or two of the cider, but his focus shifts when York returns, his heavy brow knitting.
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"You can adjust the density however you want. The doc thought it'd help me with my...issues but it just reminds me of lockdown paint. Kinda hate it."
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It'll do for now. So he settles into it, gaze turning warily to York. "Thank you."
Alright, when's the other shoe going to drop.
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"I want to hit you. I'm not gonna, but fuck if I don't want to. You had a knife at someone that was the closest thing to a kid brother I ever had. You tried to murder a woman I love." Loved? Is it still past tense when he's the one that's dead? Either way that....that's never really gonna go away. A chunk of him is always gonna be Carolina's. "Taking your legal due, ok. That's one thing. Rolling over on your back and just letting me hurt you cuz you've learned regret, that's fucked up."
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"There will never be enough I can do that will match what I have already done." He pauses, looking away and shaking his head slowly. "You know I regret what I did. That I will spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to make amends. But the hurt I caused them...that I have caused you..."
The words are deliberate. He does not say them lightly. He cannot recall the last time he said them at all, said them and meant them.
"I am sorry."
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And right now he really wants to.
York is still and silent for a long moment, hands braced on either side of Locus' knees on the sofa, staring him down. Like he can pick out the micro-expressions, the trips and triggers and patterns that equate sincerity. "Look me in the eye and say it."
He's not a mirror. He's not a reflection of what Locus had become, of what he's trying to hide from.
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York doesn't owe him this. He's here for his own reasons, and if he punched him? If he laid out his sins in front of him one at a time and broke them all down, it would still be more bearable than knowing he'd lose him as a friend. After turning against Felix, after making his choice, he'll do what he has to.
His expression draws tight. Strained. "I am sorry, York."
Even if he can't earn his forgiveness, at least let him know he means this. Felix could have fooled him, could have schooled his face into the proper expression, changed the lilt of his tone, convinced him.
Locus unmasked can't be anything but sincere.
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Gauging.
How does one measure guilt? It's a human element that Delta hasn't wrapped his mind around just yet but-
Locus has every sign here of being sincere...and that will have to be enough for him. "Please say this is the last big surprise you got for me man, cuz I don't know if I could take a third."
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Locus's jaw tenses, works tightly. This is why he needs distance. Pick up those pieces that are growing fragile and small and shove them back into the dark. He can learn to lock the important things away, again.
"You've seen everything there is. Everything of note was taken to make that video, I'm certain."
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They're alright. He's not going anywhere.
"So next time you wanna hide- how 'bout you grab the blanket instead of the armor? I mean." He reaches out, rubbing Luna's forehead gently. "At least this way she's got somewhere soft to rest."
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That tension hasn't gone anywhere. A few drinks might help unknot it somewhat, and he gratefully takes a swig. Luna, meanwhile, purrs contentedly and tips her head up into the petting, her little blue eyes closing.
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Locus shifts, lowering the bottle. "Locus. Sam...doesn't fit any longer." And then, as if anticipating the issue that might be about to rear its head, he glances back at York. "It may have been the name of the armor, of the weapon, but it can be more. Washington was able to make his name mean more. I could do the same."
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"...You really do look good in a suit." When in doubt? Humor. "I should take you out sometime."
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"You're not allowed to make me a flower crown again."
There. Something like normal, isn't it?
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It's a warning tone with no threat to it at all. All that's there in truth is relief, and that inching paranoia that this is all a charade, that this will turn on him, because nothing good can stay. That's always been the rule.
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He's older, wiser- sorta.
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He tips the empty bottle in emphasis before reaching to set it aside, and claiming the next. The lid comes off on the nearby edge of a table with minimal effort, thankfully.
"...Taylor, then."
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