-Domino’s P.O.V.-

Fifteen people could ordinarily fit within an Ogre without straining against one another. When you were working with more complicated kits, though, you’d have to get creative. For us, the Ogre still held the eight of us, Phalanx Gamma - now just Alpha Team’s greenhorns - and stored our gear in compartments under us and over our heads. The ribs of an ogre were constructed out of heavy duty steel, of which I’d been told there were at least six varieties at work within an Ogre.

It was an ugly machine, blocky, robust, and seemed to give the impression of a scowling face from the front. Roads nowadays had been made larger to accommodate the behemoths and their many varying forms. This was important, given that some teams had very demanding needs for their equipment. We could host, at most, four mechs with room for no other constructions. Meanwhile, we could host Eric’s mech and the rest of our combined sets of power armor with no real issue. Every mech slot occupied a slot that three power armors would occupy, and two exo suits could occupy a slot where a power armor was, whereas mesh suits were almost non-issues. There was a movement even to carry mesh suits as a general backup, regardless of the team's needs, in the event that someone needed to have a replacement.

“Now we get to meet them,” Harold spoke with uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Well, they would have seen us during the Gauntlet, I’m sure they’re happy to have us.” I smiled, feeling proud of our work, in spite of the difficulties we’d faced.

Harold shook his head, “I’m not worried about that. What kind of person can go through all of that and still be stable?”

I blinked in confusion, not certain what he meant by that.

“In order to make those modifications to every scenario, the observer had to have experienced something similar and been confident that it was a completable event. It’s pretty open ended, talking about it now, but the system wouldn’t have allowed it.” Rachel explained, “in other words, our observer went through all of those things in reality, or at least enough that they were allowed to upgrade the gauntlet.”

I nodded, having already understood all of that tacitly the moment the Gauntlet was running. At a minimum, it was Alpha team, but more likely it was the Reaper himself. I didn’t understand what the issue was.

Jessica cleared her throat, “What Harold is worried about is that the Reaper is a psychopath.”

“Oh!” I turned my attention back to the man, a nonplussed expression coming over me, “is that really a bad thing?”

“Yes it’s a bad thing,” his exasperation expounded, “what if he’s the kind of person to push into situations without thinking about it? Or if he doesn’t really care about what danger was put in?”

Emma’s tiny voice sounded out, “I think he wouldn’t be the leader if he was like that.”

“Maybe he’s just a figurehead?” Venezuela posited aloud, “I mean, that happens all the time, right? You make someone really popular be the face of the organization but they don’t really have any power. Maybe it’s like that?”

Eric snorted, “If you’ve seen the man, you wouldn’t think that.”

We turned our attention to Eric at that, who blinked rapidly, “Wait, have none of you met the guy?”

When none of us answered with an affirmative, Eric shook his head, a smug grin on his face that I found annoyed me far more than it should have. “I saw him giving a speech in Gilramore way back. The man has a taste for theatrics, but he didn’t strike me as the type to be dancing at someone else's strings. Hell, he vanished after his speech and made everyone else take care of things for him. The man’s the real deal.”

“What was he like?” Covina tilted her head, cyan blue hair spilling over her shoulder.

“I mean… he was pretty intimidating. Was wearing this really awesome power armor, had this gigantic red skull light up on the stage and behind him when he came on stage. All the lights turned off, but I mean, I didn’t get to talk to him one on one.” Eric paused thoughtfully, before shaking his head, “But, I mean, he didn’t seem unhinged at least.”

Our conversation tapered off after that, companionable and thoughtful silence filling the void. The low rumble of the Ogre on the road accompanied us in the spanning minutes between reaching the teams.

In our time talking with other Phalanxes, we were critically aware that our test had been head and shoulders more ruthless than most. Only a handful of others had come close, likely the other big teams.

So, when the Ogre rumbled to a stop, I couldn’t help but take a steadying breath before outfitting myself with the gear that I’d selected, compliments of our host team, and made my way down the ramp of the lumbering vehicle.

Roughly two hundred of us departed from the Ogre’s onto a wide open concrete space. Several markings and flag poles gave directions through the marshalling yard, of which was surrounded by large warehouses and compounds that were designed to assist in excursions from the city. One of three such sites in New Damond, this would be the first major excursion planned from this side.

Though I didn’t know what it was for.

However, seeing the intimidating, armor-clad man standing at the fore on what appeared to be a raised podium, I imagined that we would have our answers soon.

We approached, coaxed forward by the loud voices of a few officers, calling attention to our various teams. Only when we were less than ten meters away from the stand were we halted, the officers of the various Legion teams pausing before us. The only exception being Alpha team, whose leader stood alone.

“Welcome, Legionnaires.” The statement rang out loudly, surprising me in that it seemed to come from someone not much older than myself. “Today, you have graduated from our very own academy, ready to join the Legion in full. I’d like to throw an official celebration, but given the state of the world, the Legion is always busy.”

A few of the officers smiled at that, joined by a few light chuckles by the other students.

“Most of you should know who I am. For those who might not, I am the leader of The Reaper’s Legion, Matthew Reaper, and the leader of Alpha Team. Behind me are the teams you will be joining for the duration of our expedition, the parameters of which will be discussed with them.”

“What I will say, however,” he turned his head towards individuals in the crowd, the eye-less mask swirling with a reddish light, a murky skull hidden within, giving a ghastly appearance to the man. “We are embarking on a venture to secure the fate of the Legion.”

He let the words hang in the air for a moment, the tension in the air ratcheting up as he did so.

Satisfied with the seriousness in the air, he continued, “You have proven yourselves worthy of the mantle, to carry on the Legion’s name. However, your test is not over. Time and again your mettle will be hardened with strife and fury. The world we live in now is filled with enemies that plague the galaxy beyond our small blue marble of a world. Our world is a hotbed of Unique biotics and horrors the likes of which only occur once every fifty worlds. Wolven is perhaps the representative of how bad they can be, but others exist. And the fact of the matter is that not everyone is like us, not every region has a force like our own, not every city is unified under one banner. We go forward to kill biotics, but one thing that no one talks about is what else we must do.”

At this, the Reaper settled his gaze upon me for one heavy moment, as though everything I was about to hear was for me.

The moment passed, his eyes searching the crowd, seemingly picking out individuals in our midst.

“Some of you come from Sunvilla, and so you are aware of what can happen. You’re aware of the need for the Legion to step in, to be a hand on the scales. Out there, someone else controls a city with an iron, tyrannical fist, doing as they wish. Another city may have others, crushed underfoot and forced to work towards the selfish goals of another. The Legion was not made to bring equality and liberation to these cities,” his voice grew harsh then, “we are not peacekeepers. We leave Bulwark in charge of the defense of cities and to ensure that their governments remain involved for that very reason.”

“However,” he emphasized, “this is our new world, and The Reaper’s Legion will not stand idly by while others run counter to our ultimate goal. The eradication of biotics is a priority beyond all, and if someone works against that, keeping our fellow humanity from joining in that fight, then we will spare no effort in crushing them.”

I felt a kind of grim acceptance at that, knowing fully that we would inevitably run against others. Logically I know that as an organization, we wouldn’t suffer another force running against us.

Hearing it said from the leader of the Legion was something very different though. It made it more real, the fact that we would perhaps be conquerors on top of exterminators. As I looked around once more in the bright sunlight cast over our coastal city, I felt almost like there was a lens pulled from my sight.

Every last one of us stood resolute with one another, myself no exception. Grim determination rested upon our shoulders like a mantle, and there was no question as to what we would do if we ran into a situation like Sunvilla again.

In fact, I could say safely that our reprisal would be altogether more forceful.

“Some may say it is not our right to take the freedom of others,” I felt my thoughts halt forcibly at the Reaper’s words, “but it is clear that those that return to the methods of our old world become mired in its insensibilities. We fight for the survival of the human race, and it is in no small way a race against time. Already we witness the birth of Gen 2 biotics, and it won’t be long before we begin to see the ilk of Gen 3 biotics. But we are strong, and our power will only grow with every ally, with every triumph.”

“You will be tested, your mettle beaten bloody, but you will not stand alone. Today you join the Legion, and the Legion never fights alone.”

The officers snapped to attention, fists clanking against steel plates on their power-armored chests as they faced us.

By reflex, one that somehow just felt right, I performed the salute as well. In one wave, the Phalanxes shouted, “We are Legion!”

The Reaper’s helmet seemed to glow malevolently, the red, digitized skull within somehow managed to grin at that.

“Your teams await you. Follow the marks on your HUD, and remember that these are your comrades. They will teach you, just as you will teach them.” The marshalling yard of newly-inducted Legionnaires shifted into motion.

My team collected ourselves, urged with the momentum of the crowd. I wasn’t certain exactly how I felt about everything that he’d just said, beyond knowing that I was wary of dealing with other people. It was one thing, being the good guy and marauding across the lands destroying biotics. It was quite another knowing that eventually someone wouldn’t want us around, and that we’d do it anyways. How would I feel, then? If it came down to an offensive among humans, would I be able to pull the trigger?

“Well, I rather like him,” Harold said aloud, oblivious to my inner dialogue, “that sounds like a ‘don’t take shit from politicians’ kinda guy if I ever heard one.”

Rachel gave a short bite of laughter, “Well, let’s get moving. I wanna meet the team before we’re crammed into an Ogre with ‘em.”

I nodded at that, moving towards Alpha team.

‘Towards my team,’ I corrected myself mentally, a wide smile on my face.