Chapter 1

It was an overwhelm of the senses that brought him to his point: bent over, palm bracing himself on the remnants of a wall in the apartment complex he was hiding in, so that he could empty his stomach out onto the ruined carpet beneath his feet. It had only been one week since he was clumsily lobbed into the battlefield and he was already having difficulties experiencing the true horrors and madness of the extermination on Earth. N7 Recruit or not, it was hard for any living thing to stomach the current sights and continue on. So he'd finally given in to not stomaching it, hoping that with a vacant gut he might be able to push past the piles of shock faced corpses, ash filled air, and all around annihilation of everything he knew and loved.

It didn't really work, but he felt a bit better.

Bringing up his hand, he wiped his mouth a few times before flicking it to clear the saliva and remnants of puke off his gauntlet. He straightened then, pulled his helmet back on, and headed away from the mess he'd made in the corner over to 'the perch' he'd been shooting from.

Out of his week in London, he'd already spent two days barricaded in this apartment, raining bullets down at any and all Reapers that tried to pass through this street he was stationed to hold. First it had been with the remainder of his thrown together squad; a tiny group made mostly out of N7 Recruits and one actual N7 Operative to lead them. That group was quickly bulldozed down though.

The first day, they'd lost their Vanguard. The man had gotten a bit too bold, a bit too cocky, in his biotic charges and as a result made a fatal mistake: jumped right into a Banshee. There was nothing they could do, no matter how hard they tried. There were too many Reapers, he was too far away, and as a result they had to watch in horror as the lengthy abomination drove it's fingers into the young man's abdomen only to pull out every organ that was once hiding in the human biotic. The group dropped from five to four.

Shaking the memory from his head he slowly lowered himself back down onto the perch, lying on his stomach next to his Phasteon. He took a few seconds to check it over, dust it off, and reload it with a fresh clip. Finally then he took in a deep breath, forced himself to relax, and start his scope, aim, shoot routine all over again.

The fourth day was when they lost both their Captain and Adept to three Brutes. They'd been making their way through a parking garage in the center of London when their Adept was suddenly grabbed, then thrashed and smashed harshly into the cement, before finally the Brute flung her right over them and into the wall. They didn't have time to check the girl's pulse for they were thrown straight into combat, but the group got their answer when they saw how odd her neck looked. This led them to conclude that her neck had snapped after the first time the Brute smashed her into the cement. The group took relief in this realization: for she had died quickly thus saving her from the pain she was to feel had she been alive through the whole ordeal. The group dropped from four to three.

The Captain had not been so lucky though. They'd been forced to retreat from the Brutes due to lack of back-up and in the process had gotten confused in the maze of floors and cars. Himself and their Engineer managed to get out only to realize that the Captain was lagging behind due to the fact he'd found a missile launcher. They'd started to run into the garage again to help give fire cover, but they stopped when the Captain shook his head and firmly ordered them to go.

He had realized long before the young recruits that the Brutes were going to kill them all if they weren't taken down, so the Captain took it upon himself to bite the bullet. He took the three Brutes and the entire parking structure down with him in death by aiming and firing the missile at the last sturdy support block of the structure. Their group dropped, once again, from three to two.

It was quiet, way too quiet for his liking really. Not even the Husks were out salvaging for the bodies of the dead. It irked him. Letting his hand drift up to his helmet, he flicked off the mute on his radio so that he could be once again heard through the channels. He cleared his throat and clicked into his professional mode:

" Foxtrot this is Tango, over."

There was static silence, and then a surprised voice greeted him. " Tango? We heard the lot of you were dead!" So much for professionalism. Then again, they were all located in a highly dangerous warzone with most of their troops being wiped out and replaced with civilian volunteers, it could be worse." Where are you bunking down at?"

" About…." He took a moment to clench his teeth together in thought," I'd say two to three clicks west from Big Ben. Been holding off some of the smaller boys for a day or two." He reported with a small sigh, shaking his head as the man he was talking to started to click his tongue over the radio. He glanced back behind him looking at what was left of his supplies in the corner." We're out of supplies and need back up. The Reaper's have gone silent on this side of the city…..which means they're probably sending the bigger boys in."

" How many of you are left?" He found himself silent then, his mind wandering at the question. He'd lost the Engineer last night to panic and lack of faith. One shot to the head, suicide. Snapping out of his momentary trance, he directed his eyes at the street below him." One." He replied solemnly.

Static filled the radio once again before finally there was a reply." Crap….o.k…..uhhh…." there was a bit of background chatter between a few people then before the voice finally returned on the radio," Look I don't know who or where the highest ranking official is, nor do I fucking care. Let my team and I finish resupplying and we'll head over to join you. As far as anyone's concerned, you're with us now. Just bunker down for ten minutes. Think you can handle it?"

He watched as a Husk wandered unknowingly into his scope. Quickly switching to the Widow he'd picked up off a dead Solider from below, he no-scoped the Husk. A crack rang through the air loud and clear before the once Human dropped dead onto the group, it's chest lying in pieces around him. Loading the gun once again he responded," I can do that."

Author's Note: Whelp. Here this goes.