Vella a jeté Ellis dans une pile littérale d'armes. Son propre Mattock suffirait pour le combat, mais si les salauds s'approchent...
Il a giflé trois Talons récupérés sur ses étuis, espérant que, le moment venu, il pourrait les dessiner une main, sans les laisser tomber.
"NERO, mettez toutes les armes à Cryo ammo!"
Il s'appuya sur sa jambe immobile, l'utilisant comme fulcrum pour sa bonne jambe pour le pousser en position debout. Il a élevé son Mattock, et a pris le but.
C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai!
Quatre défenses ralentissaient, trébuchaient et gelaient. L'un d'eux a gelé au milieu de la chute, comme une œuvre d'art moderne sur les dangers de la technologie ancienne.
C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai!
Un de plus, congelé quand il est tombé sur la pile. Ils ne fournissaient pas beaucoup d'obstacle par eux-mêmes, mais il était à mi-chemin, tirant des limaces solides. Le fusil s'est effondré, et il s'est magnétisé dans le dos, alors qu'il tirait un de ses Talons pillés. Les défenses entraient dans le champ de tir, juste à l'heure.
"Cryo ammo, Nero?"
"Vérifié."
Le Talon aboie ardemment, et des durs de rasoir tranchants de métal et d'azote se sont enflammés vers l'armée de défense. Deux autres, solides congelés, et Ellis était sorti des munitions. Il a jeté le pistolet vide et en a tiré un autre. Des impulsions d'énergie bleue et des boulons de photons rouges surgissaient au-dessus.
Attendez... les défenses ne peuvent pas retourner le feu...
Pas les humains. C'est le cas des chauves-souris. Les Turiens aussi.
Alors...
Oui?
Je suis dans un terrible désavantage.
Oui, tu l'es.
Ellis s'est cogné le cerveau. Nous avons besoin d'une arme... quelque chose de grande échelle, quelque chose de... de feu. Ses yeux ont pris une pile de boîtes blanches, partiellement recouvertes d'épaves smoldering- Generators!
Il rampait à la main et aux genoux, grincant les dents dans des douleurs psychosomatiques quand des pierres et des éclats lui grattaient l'armure. Enfin, il se trouvait à quelques pieds seulement, quand il s'est rendu compte qu'ils n'étaient pas, après tout, des générateurs simples.
"Partinax, j'ai trouvé... des pylônes de bouclier. Deux d'entre eux. Peut-être utilisé à bon escient."
Il s'est roulé sur le dos, pour affronter la horde au fur et à mesure qu'elle avançait. Il était mieux caché que le reste de son équipe, alors il en a profité pour recharger son fusil. C'était un travail beaucoup plus maladroit et plus lent d'une main qu'avec deux. Il pouvait voir ce qu'il devait faire d'ici, et si son commandant approuvait, sa position serait le meilleur siège de la maison.
Name:
Ellis Taevon
Race:
Human
Class:
Vanguard
Age:
34
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability.
UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes.
Backstory:
Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son.
In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken.
Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by.
He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking,
"Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse.
"A new body."
He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon.
They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians.
Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician.
After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis.
Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters.
Psyche Profile:
Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it.
UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad,
no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as,
more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother,
who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed.
Specialty:
He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists.
Powers/Skills:
 His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat
Skills
-Biotic Charge
-Dyson Sphere
-Iron Maiden
-Cryo Ammo
-Throw
-Fortification
Equipment and Resources:
Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile.
He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. 
Sample Post:
“Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube.
A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger.
'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator,
'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?'
'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed,
'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled.
'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender.
'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip.
'You have a name, I presume?'
'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.'
'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.'
'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused.
'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever.
'W-what are you doing?'
'I'm trying.'
'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?'
'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?'
'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.'
'But you said-'
'That man was not my father.'
'Then who did I kill?'
'Rakhtesh.'"
Sample 2
Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall.
With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them!
Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed.
The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.”
“You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed.
“I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool.
“IT’S HERE!”
The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die.
Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke.
“Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her.
“What?”
“You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile.
“I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.”
“You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?”
“No.”
“Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said,
“Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!”
“So be it.” This was the right thing to do.
Notes
Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies.
His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information.
In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully.
He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday.
He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.