Open your eyes. He screamed in pain, such total agony but he couldn't hear it. Silence. The smell of burning flesh and death all around him. Open your eyes. He was trying to will himself back to life. Just open them. He gasped for air. His ribs, shattered, his lungs burned. It felt like someone was standing on his chest and cutting it with a knife at the same time. Now. His eyes fluttered open, but he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Rubble and dust and shards of metal everywhere, his body tangled within. Feeling like pins and needles were all aver his body, he could only deduce that shrapnel had riddled his remains. Lying on his back he squinted to see that his left arm was trapped, and both his legs buried beneath the rubble. At least he hoped those were his legs, he couldn't feel them. His bare flesh almost fully exposed, covered in blood, metal, glass, and burns of various degrees. I look as bad as I feel.

He struggled to remember what had happened that lead to this moment. Any clues to where he was or how he had gotten there. Earth? No. Couldn't be. It was too quiet. The only sounds he could hear were the crackle of fire and the soft gurgle he made whenever he took a breath. Sucking chest wound? For once he missed the distinct crack a bullet made when it passed by his head. It meant other people. This silence meant death. I need to get out of here. He tried to get up and was forced back down by blinding pain from all sides. Looking down at his melted chest plate he could see an alarming amount of blood emanating from a bullet wound on his left between his 3rd and 4th now broken ribs. At least I remember being shot.

He looked once more to his trapped arm and lifeless legs and decided he needed to be free. Arm first, then I'll deal with the legs. But how? He was trapped and pinned down, that was clear enough and his omni-tool was gone with the rest of his grieves. He tried to move his left hand but it was no use, it was crushed and the pain was too much. Trapped below his elbow he swallowed hard at the thought that his only option would be self-amputation. From the corner of his eye he could see sparks fly. Electronics. Where the hell am I?

He needed to get out; he needed his arm free. He had heard of other humans doing this kind of thing before when in desperate situations. His situation didn't get much more desperate than this. They always had a tourniquet though. Right now he had nothing that resembled anything like it. If he cut his arm with whatever tool he had yet to acquire, he would bleed out in minutes without something to stop the bleeding. He had to try. I'm Commander John Shepard, God dammit! And I made a promise.

His thoughts drifted to Liara. She would be there when he got out. And if he didn't, she would be searching for his body and maybe find another way to bring him back to life. She wouldn't give up. He had to try.

He needed a plan. If he couldn't use a tourniquet he needed something else. Looking around his shattered body, he caught sight of a red-hot shard of metal beneath some flames only a few inches away from his free arm. Cauterize. I could cauterize the wound. Now all he had to do was think of a way to free his arm.

Something sharp enough to cut his arm in one shot. The pain would be blinding and he wouldn't have much time to cauterize. If he could get the resulting stump over to the hot metal before he passed out, he might have a chance. He would still need to be conscious enough to ensure the bleeding was stopped, and then free his legs, and then crawl to help, if there even was any to be had. He shrugged off the encroaching hopelessness and focused on his task. There were metal and glass all around him, and to his dismay and great peril, inside of him. All he had to do was find a big enough, sharp enough piece that he could trust to take his arm off as quickly as possible.

There. Just underneath his right arm, a jagged shard of metal just larger than his hand and about as thick as his finger was protruding. It was sharp enough to puncture his skin and jagged enough to let him saw through flesh and nerve…if he could stay conscious through it. Now all he had to do was break his arm just below the elbow. He placed the shard on his chest and grasped a large rock with his free hand. With one breath he used whatever strength and will he could muster and brought the rock down on his arm with as much force as he could generate. He heard the bones crack, his scream, a string of incomprehensible profanities, and felt the pain shooting up his arm while the rock fell to the side. Please God, let that be good enough.

He could feel fluid rushing to his broken bones and was confident that the task had been complete. He had shattered his own arm. Now the hard part. He clinched the metal shard and hovered it 2 inches below his elbow where his shattered bones lay under muscle, nerve, and some sort of Cerberus technology he was even less eager to see. A mix of desperation and determination in his eyes as he said a silent prayer to whatever Gods would listen.

He raised the shard as high as he could, took a deep breath, and with that he plunged the shard into his scorched and broken skin as hard as he could. He screamed louder than he'd ever thought possible and watched as the blood seeped through the wound. Gasping for air, the feelings of his burning lungs and broken ribs were a distant memory as he sawed through his own flesh, struggling to stay conscious through the blinding pain. With every upward motion he gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and cried in agony and rage against his situation. Each downward cut a slight relief as he drew closer to his goal. His mind tried to escape, darkness closing in around his eyes but he forced himself to stay in the reality.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it but his efforts had been enough, he could see his arm starting to separate and instinctively began pulling away. Still sawing as much as he could, he could feel the world closing in around him and he knew he didn't have much time left. With one last tug, he pulled his arm away. His screams were deafening now. The pain was like lightning in his eyes. He was losing blood fast and without thinking he swung his arm towards the red-hot metal and forced his stump down. Hearing nothing but his own cries, feeling nothing but numbing pain and tears streaming down his face, the smell of his own flesh burning, he succumbed to the darkness that had been slowly enveloping him.