This is my second installment of another silly story that came out from my mind. The first story that have been beta read, so I have more confidence to publish my story. It's the based for my renegon character I build for the next and every story about Shepard - Tali romance. A precursor before it's began. So I hoped it's make clearer for the story that I will publish probably next week ( 5 November 2010 ). Same previous rule apply. Oh, and free internet cookies for anyone that can guess where the names come from. My Thanks to Herr Wozzeck, Sarge1995, and Skeasel for their time to beta read it. It must have been horrible, skimming through my writing, so sorry for that. My Thanks to Ledilettant ( My first reviewer!), Kokothebunga ( Where are you? I'm still waiting your messages ) and morbus-rus ( I'm glad you enjoyed my story ). So before this become Oscar's night, I present you... .

Vendetta Voyage

"Burn!" "Burn it all to hell!"

It was a yell from some battered batarian slaver that was looking for human survivors. A yell that made the batarian feel good about their hard-earned win, that had been heard by a half-burned kid in the rubble. The yell was not something the young boy cared all that much about. He actually needed to know what hell felt like. He thought that at least hell was better than this miserable place. His home had been burned down to the ground. He and his family had held together in that house for a last stand only to watch each other die. He was only saved from the heavy rubble because the blast threw him away from it. A brief moment of shock made him forget everything.

He woke up, feeling the pain. He was still buried in rubble, unable to move. He tried to look for a way to escape, then ceased the attempt , filled with sudden regret for not noticing fast enough to look for his family. His family was gone, or at least he hoped they had not gone too far, because he could still see his parents hands under the rubble. A desperate hope grew, even though he only saw a small part of them. At least he was not alone, because the only lullaby that he heard before his parents eventually died were screams of angry soldiers. He needed a peace only he could think of, now. He looked above, seeing the smoke and cinders swirling around. It was a little show before he felt himself slip away into unconsciousness, before his thoughts drifted as he turned to slip away into the infinite darkness.

Torfan, 2178.

Shepard looked at the cloudy smoke from the burned batarian base. It briefly reminded him of the smoke he saw above him Mindoir. The base's destruction was his handiwork. It was an inspired job, an inspiration that came from his long since ingrained lesson from Mindoir. The spectacle was a little consolation prize for all the deeds he had done on Torfan. It was enough for him anyway, for that moment. There was always work to be done for him, so he took the time to enjoy a moment of respite.

"Shepard! You did it again, didn't you?"

His enjoyment was violently disturbed by an unrestrained act of a headstrong journalist.

"Get the hell out of my sight, Weekly." Shepard replied as he walked away."

"You can't ignore me Shepard, not after all we have been through!"

Shepard looked at Weekly's eyes, while Weekly continued,

"I consider you like a brother already, you saved my ass a couple times, so I could report how human we are in the face of batarian brutality... then you tear it apart! Why? Do you want to end up like them?"

"You are the reporter. You should never ask that question."

"So you're just stuck in a bad past memory?"

"What I know from the past is that batarians only know one language, the language of terror! So I know, that every batarian life I take, every batarian eye that I gouge, every batarian skull I crack, gives at least a single human colonist a fighting chance to live their life!"

"And sacrifice your sanity in the process?"

"I do feel insane! I really do! If you thought you had already died only to wake up all alone, bitter, and almost out of your mind, then you know what I'm talking about. So don't lecture me on what I should do!"

"Don't you see their eyes, they are like humans, just like us!"

"They are just animals."

"Do you think you don't have a shred of compassion left in you? I know you do! Because you took care every person you have met, and you alone still mourn your men's death in secret."

"My men... My men already knew the risk, every deed requires a sacrifice, just like I am willing to make now. All this talk is just academic, we put stake in our ideal with our lives. What about you?"

Weekly could not answer him and Shepard continued.

"War is a brutal business, and we're in the business to win. Emotion is just a part of the equation to win a war. My men and I are just assets in the eyes of System Alliance brass. Welcome to the real world, kid."

Shepard, thought he already made his point and started to turned his back to walk away. He was cut short by Weekly's reaction.

"You'll never get away this time, Shepard! I will be right behind you!"

Shepard stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

Weekly felt the righteous blow he was about to inflict on Shepard. "I will go to front line, just like you," he began boldly. "I will be watching you like a hawk, waiting you to make a mistake. When you secretly execute a prisoner, I will be there with all the media on my back. I will make sure the galaxy knows!"

Shepard grabbed Weekly's collar in a threatening manner. "You better not do that," he said. "A nosy, idealistic, pushover like you will not survive this day and age acting like that !"

Weekly chuckled darkly. "I dare you to hit or kill me Shepard!" he said. "It'll make easier for me, it'll make my conscious clear!"

Shepard released his hold on Weekly and walked away, anger still seething in his veins.

Hours later...

This is the last batarian bunker, Shepard thought. The bunker had stood strong for so long against the human onslaught; it became something of an embarrassment for the Systems Alliance strategists. Either it was a fluke for the batarians or incompetence on the part of the Alliance. The frustration related to this error was so strong that the brass on Arcturus was driven to take the bunker regardless of the cost.

Shepard led a unit 200 men strong, which broke into three teams controlled by Shepard and his other two lieutenants. Shepard's subordinate, a sergeant, helped him to direct his team, the muscle of the operation and the largest of the squads, while the other two teams were used for recon and support. His was the strongest System Alliance unit on Torfan at the moment and resembled an army. With all the marine casualties on Torfan, Shepard's unit had become a hodgepodge of surviving members from various units. The navy currently experiencing difficulties transporting reinforcements. They are moved into formation.

His men lined up, waiting for orders. Undetected, Shepard scanned the horizon gauging his situation. He completed his scan, only to find that his feeling didn't seem right. Shepard rarely had to second guess his tactics. He tried to predict the worst possible scenario, but he still didn't understand what was wrong.

He ordered his men to march forward anyway.

First he ordered the recon team, and then his team, while his support team entered the area. Shepard's men closed around the bunker carefully, for they knew that the three previous assaults had failed miserably. They marched forward, occasionally taking cover, and always watching the bunker. Some even began to imagine a ghostly enemy appearance on the other side, the apparitions seeming to confirm that the enemy was there. Shepard looked at his wrist warily, and he hoped that the enemy wasn't aware of their presence yet. Then a bright light glowed magnificently, but it wasn't a star or a comet. It was a batarian move that Shepard and his men didn't expect: a dreaded flash bang mortar.

Screams of pain filled the air as the men's night vision implants burned into their skull. It was a sign for the batarians to start shooting. Shepard and his men were badly cornered, and the only open escape route was to fall from the cliff they had come from. Some men with a high will to survive braced the pain and searched for cover, while others froze in place because the pain was so excruciating. Their last memory was a strange calm after what seemed like an unbroken feeling of pain as the batarian bullets passed through their body and took their life away.

Shepard was running through a hail of bullets, trying to find his remaining men. He screamed for attention, looking for control in a place where there was none. He glanced over to where most of his men gathered, understanding the instinct of the masses as they sought out safety. He joined them, secured himself, and then he saw a figure he knew.

"Sergeant Blackmore! Over here!" Shepard frantically tried to get his attention.

The sergeant approached carefully, and as he closed to his commander, he boldly said: "Another day on the job and Intel slept through it again, Commander!"

"I'm glad you're still calm under this goddamn awful mess, Sergeant! I need a situation report!" Replied an amused Shepard, for he knew well his sergeant's coping mechanism.

"We fucked up really bad. Lieutenant Guarnido's men took the most punishment, and I don't know where Lieutenant Canales's men are."

"Guarnido still alive?"

"I hope so!" Assured the sergeant, then continued the report. "Commander! Their bunker shifted! They must have anticipated our move!"

Shepard looked around the corner, and then barked out his next order. "Their bunker hasn't completely shifted. I can see an opening. I'll rush there and try to flank them while you push forward to the main gate!"

"There are still a lot of anti-vehicle proximity mines in that area, sir!"

"I know! We both know that if we get stuck right here we'll end up dead anyway! There's still a fighting chance if we get moving. Gather your men Sergeant, and tell everyone to storm that gate. I will meet you there!"

"Someday Sir, you will send us to hell!"

"I have already been there! Hell is just a dark place Sergeant, but it's quieter than this!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Sergeant ordered two nearby soldiers to follow the commander, then proceeded with orders. The sergeant rallied his men while Shepard and his two marines initiated his last hope of a plan. Shepard raced forward while his companions desperately followed him. One of the companions fell immediately , killed by a stray bullet, while the other froze in his tracks and cowered. Shepard didn't care, considering that the main body of his unit was nearing the gate.

Shepard could see that his sergeant had successfully riled up his men and began a long run toward the gate. Despite his sergeant's brilliant maneuvering, the bodies of marines kept piling up. Shepard hoped that there was still men left to take the bunker. Right now, however, Shepard ran like a devil in hell, avoiding traps, bullets, and Torfan's treacherous landscape.

A moment passed as he approached the weak spot briefly examining the hastily prepared place. He counted five batarian guards trying to hold their position against the incessant gunfire. That was five batarians that he needed to take care of so his sergeant could overrun the place. Calmly he pulled out his gun, whispering softly to himself, as he tracked his kills.

"One batarian." He killed the lead batarian.

"Two batarians." He killed a guard manning the heavy gun.

"Three batarians." He killed a soldier carrying ammo.

"Four batarians." He killed a batarian turning to run.

"Five..." The fifth batarian had disappeared.

Shepard knew that he had to secure the place before he could help his squad. He looked everywhere for a sign of the fifth batarian, used every means he had at his disposal to find him. He repeated himself like he would forget somewhere down the line; "Fifth batarian, fifth batarian, where the hell is he?"

A crate fell, signaling the batarian's whereabouts. Shepard saw him struggling for life and continued forward. Shepard saw him struggling for life, injured by burst of gunfire that had killed fleeing squadmate. The commander continued forward, and watched as the batarian reach for a switch. Shepard watched the wounded batarian reach for a switch. Shepard grew cautious, as he didn't know what the switch was for. He felt that if that batarian's dying wish was to activate it, it would be a danger to him and his men. Worried that he was already too late Shepard continued to fire.

The batarian tossed himself onto the switch, as it was the only thing that he could do. A loud rumble came from the main gate, and Shepard glanced over in horror. The switch had activated a mine. A blast rang out, killing many of Shepard's men, shrapnel flying in all directions. The only small comfort that Shepard had was that they died along with their enemies. A lot more batarians had also been caught in the blast. They swarmed outside and Shepard's men were overrun by the opposing batarians. They fought hand to hand for the contested bunker.

Shepard knew that to win the battle he needed to keep the pressure on, as the batarian's spirit started to falter. With that mind, Shepard blended in to the fight, keeping the spirit of his remaining marines from turning to sorrow.

A few hours later...

A deathly tired Shepard sat on the top of the bunker. He was watching below, observing the aftermath. He released a small laugh to remind him that this was really a big win. All the deaths he caused were necessary sacrifices, he kept telling himself. It was a justification he sorely needed. A figure walked up to him and saluted. He was an expected guest, for Shepard had requested someone come and give him a report.

"Where's Sergeant Blackmore?" asked Shepard.

"He's dead sir."

"You are Smirnov, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you are his replacement. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"I'm sorry sir, my request for transfer has already been approved. This is my last mission with you."

Another dry laugh sounded from Shepard, for he knew the reason; it was old news that he was a dreaded commander.

"Well then nice knowing you," said Shepard. "Do you have anything to report?"

"I think you need to see this."

Smirnov pointed at small door in the bunker, inviting his commander to come inside. Shepard entered and saw a gruesome scene that no human could bear to look at for long. Smirnov stood beside his superior and provided his insight.

"Human, male, early twenties, not a member of the Systems Alliance."

"I knew him." Shepard replied as he looked at the body. It was Weekly.

"He was being tortured, just two hours before the attack. He died as we raided this bunker."

"Why he was here?"

"I honestly don't know sir, the batarian's vid record only showed that this man was begging for them to surrender without a fight," replied Smirnov. "They believed that he was a special ops unit from the Systems Alliance."

Shepard released a long and heavy sigh. "Leave me alone," he said

This surprised Smirnov, for he never knew that his commander still had a heart. "Yes sir, please take your time."

As Smirnov left, Shepard spoke to lifeless body as if it could still hear. "Weekly... what were you thinking?" Said Shepard with a low and sad voice.

He felt that he had failed miserably. Here was another civilian casualty. A sign that human sacrifice had failed, a sacrifice that Shepard convinced himself was a necessity. He knew that Weekly had guiltily eyed in him when he first saw Shepard's atrocities. Shepard thought that Weekly knew that whatever Weekly was doing would not cause batarian casualties because of Shepard's reduced atrocities. He thought that Weekly knew that even if he succeeded in recording Shepard's actions against the batarian prisoners, the Systems Alliance would bury the news. Weekly knew that he could not convince Shepard to stop his act, not even with whatever threat and anger that Weekly could muster. Weekly knew that he could not stomach it anymore, which Shepard soon realized. Shepard comprehend that Weekly had given up on him, and in an attempt to alleviate his guilt, Weekly end up like this.

The buildup of Shepard's anger was slow but steady. It was an anger that he had never felt before, an anger that differed from the frustration he had felt when he woke up in a hospital, and some marine told him that his parents were dead. It was a different anger that drove him to join the marines, different than any anger that drove him to shoot every batarian prisoner in sight. An anger without known reason. An anger that needed a reason.

A confused Shepard rushed out from the bunker. He was looking for the prisoners and spotted a squad marching a group of battered and exhausted batarian prisoners down the hill.

"Stop the prisoners!" Ordered Shepard loudly. Shepard looked at the prisoners one by one and realized that if he really needed a reason for his anger, then he needed to be close and personal to feel their fear and the warmth of their body as they died. He grabbed his knife and screamed, "Hold the prisoner tight!"

It was an order that the group of marines would follow gladly. They thought this would become a spectacle to behold. It was also a sentence that the batarians understood. The only thing they could do was scream in horror and beg for forgiveness. Shepard started to stab the prisoners one by one. His trained habit took control, as he counted out loud.

"One batarian." He stabbed the batarian that led the march.

"Two batarians." He stabbed another prisoner that anxiously begged.

"Three batarians." He stabbed a third captive, struggling to get away from the marine that held him.

"Four batarians." He stabbed another batarian that stood, waiting for his fate.

"Five..."

When he noticed that his knife felt very light, Shepard recognized that something was wrong. He stared at the knife and found that it had already broken, the blade lodged within the last prisoner. A small, maniacal laugh escaped from Shepard. Even his knife disagreed with him, but Shepard didn't care anymore and gave another order.

"Sergeant."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Execute the rest."

"Gladly, sir."

Shepard walked away as his men killed their prisoners in the same moment the war journalists arrived. It was a great all around display for everyone, something that sated the people's craving for news and violence. Shepard was not within that group of people though. He had walked away to find his smoke and cinder.

He seemed to search endlessly only to find out that his once magnificent tower of smoke and cinder had been washed away by acid rain. He chuckled dryly once again. Briefly he imagined that the universe loved to play jokes on him as smoke billowed out of existence, leaving Shepard an empty shell; but he was not only that.

Shepard realized something: a bullet had passed through the fourth batarian guardian and wounded the fifth. It was also the same after the fourth batarian he stabbed, as he had been unable to stab anymore. Lastly, it was his fourth laugh of the day. Shepard remembered that the Chinese number four meant death, and right now he felt he really tasted death and lived in hell, filled with unrelenting pain of guilt. It was a feeling that Weekly had no longer, for he had already found peace in his eternal rest.