Hallo, rikahara here. WARNING: under NO circumstances is this to be taken with even a hint of seriousness. Just my submission for a "stupid and unlikely crossover" challenge I'm doing. So I took something I don't really like (cough splintercell) and threw it in with someone I love (coughmasseffectcough) lets see how crappy this gets! :D
Sunset over Moscow. The sky burned a deep crimson, coating the clouds in its bloody hue. The plane's engines roared with gusto as they fought to push the large craft through the air. It was soon lost to the famed Russian city, now nothing but a tiny black spec receding into the ever darkening sky.
Onboard, Archer forced himself to relax. It was easier said than done. For some reason he couldn't quite get his grip to unhinge from the back of Kobin's seat in the cockpit.
The greying haired man took immediate notice. " Clean getaway, plane's in flight, EMP is safely secured. There's no one left alive that can catch us right now." He stated, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Why don't you go back down to the hold and relax with your...rusky friend..." he scowled. "Speaking of which, don't mind it if there's a little turbulence. We're approaching the Russian Atmosphere."
The agent did a double take. 'Excuse me? I didn't know the Russians had their own atmosphere," he scoffed.
"Damn straight they do! Russian's need their own one, like the weird...vodkahol drinking freaks they are!" His face grew dark, "They say strange things can happen up here, especially at this time, where dark meets the light..."
By this time, Archer had quietly concluded that Kobin and his ramblings should be left well alone and made his way back down into the hold.
Once down there, he found Kestrel had already made himself comfortable amongst the cargo. Gear taken off, he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed contentedly. He peeked open an eye at the fellow agents approach.
Despite the somewhat weary feelings known to be held between America and Russia, the agent only looked at Archer with mild curiosity. Their partnership only spanned ten days, but there was something about sneaking around in the dark, breaking people's necks, and getting shot at constantly that really brought people together.
"Mission complete?' He asked in his thick accent.
'Mission complete." Archer ripped off his mask. Taking a deep breath his scratched at the stubble lining his square face. "Time to clean up this ugly mug of mine. "
Kestrel only blinked at him, eyebrow raised. Apparently the agent's slang did not compute.
Archer sighed. "I need a shave."
"Take your time, its going to be a long trip." With that he settled back down and began to nod off, prompting another sigh from the agent. He would never understand how his comrade could relax so easily.
He squeezed himself inside the plane's tiny excuse for a bathroom, and took out a razor. He observed his reflecting in the grimy mirror. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, and his wild black mess of hair, he was going to need more than just a shave when he got back to the states.
Suddenly his ear piece lit up. Someone was trying to contact him. "Kobin?' He answered.
"No, Archer, this is Reed. Where's Kestrel?"
"In the hold dozing. Why?"
"Kill him."
The razor stopped halfway to his face. "Repeat that.'
"I want you to kill him! Kill him till he dies from it! Then after that, I want you to murder him!" The line went dead.
All of a sudden his gun felt excruciatingly heavy in its holster. Any order but this, he would follow without hesitation. Any order but this.
Orders are orders, Archer. Third Echelon doesn't give them without reason. The razor dropped, he grabbed his pistol.
He stepped into the hold. A heavy tension hovered above the whirr of the engines. He looked to his left. Kestrel wasn't where he had left him. He drifted amongst the crates, the hunter looking for his prey.
He found it when he felt cold steel pressed against his head. He turned around slowly, coming face to face with the russian, desert-eagle firmly in hand. "Mission complete, eh?" He held up Archer's OPSAT device, which he had clearly snooped from his gear. The words "KILL KESTRAL DEAD" blazed around its screen.
"I have orders.' He solemnly replied, and punched the agent's arm, making him lose him gun. He threw his to the floor, and pressed his own pistol up against Kestral's forehead.
Kestral's hazel eyes grew big. "Orders are orders, eh, Chief?" He almost smiled.
"Don't look at me like that. Seriously, that's just wrong. No grown man should be able to do that look."
Kestral's eyes grew bigger. More imploring.
"Stop it, you're weirding me out!" He scowled. "Fine. I can't do this." He dropped his gun and helped his partner up.
" You're going against orders."
"Partners are partners, chief." He replied, feeling a little torn inside. And relieved. " Fight together. Stay together."
"Ah, well, isn't that sweet. I guess you can die together, too!' The two turned to confront Kobin, who stood holding Kestrel's gun. "Well, aren't you two going to kill each other, or am I going to have to finish the job myself!"
"No way." Archer stepped closer. "We stand by the bro-code!"
"Dah, I, too, support this...bro code!" Kestrel backed his friend up, still not quite sure what he was saying.
"Hm, I guess I can understand your commitment. Okay, then." He nodded. Then shot Kestrel.
The American agent caught his friend even before he hit the floor, and dragged him into cover, bullets whizzing by his head. He hunched into the shadows, wishing that he hadn't of dropped his pistol. He looked down at his partner.
"You okay, Chief?'
"Dah, I'm alright. Its not as if I have a gaping hole in my shoulder...oh wait." He stared pointedly back up at Archer, pale faced and grimacing.
"Point taken."
"Cheer up, Archer!' Kobin yelled as he unleashed bullets into random corners of the plane. "Come out right now. I promise I'll buy you a new russian once we get back to the states!"
Suddenly the plane shook violently, causing the power to flicker.
"Who's flying the plane?'
"The same guy who's shooting at us, Chief."
"Oh...crap."
"Damn rusky atmosphere!' Kobin yelled.
"You have to get out of here." Kestrel said grimly as the plane shook again.
"Not without you. Hold on."
He rolled out of cover, darting along the crates to the nearby wall. He quickly grabbed their two packs with all their gear and came scampering back. Kobin still hadn't found them. Maybe because he was too busy ranting about communists wanting to steal all his precious bodily fluids.
"We're not communist anymore!' Kestrel grumbled as Archer came back to him. "What do you have?' He winced, "Do you have a plan?"
He looked towards the ramp, then at Kobin. "Yeah. IMPROVISE!" Yelling, he ran back out of cover, straight into Kobin's path. Without hesitation he kicked him in the crotch.
"Sweet babies!' He wheezed, toppling over. Archer slammed his head into a crate, then quickly found his dropped pistol. Going back to Kestrel, he began dragging him towards the ramp.
"What are you doing?"
"I need your help. You know that EMP thing we secured. If its important enough for Kobin to want to kill us over it, then I think we should dispose of the thing. How about you?"
He got evil laughter for response.
Helping him up, he staggered over to second ramp release, Archer taking the first. At the count of three they released. A whirlwind of air was sucked out of the hold, causing the agents to hang on for dear life.
They stared into the swirling void that they supposed was the sky. "Strange, where are the stars...' Kestrel muttered. Too bad to one could hear him over the screaming of the wind that was conjured up by the dark maelstrom.
He turned around, eyes locking onto the EMP device that hung suspended a ways in front of them. "Shoot it, Archer!"
Archer raised his pistol and aimed at the suspension. Suddenly Kobin popped up, giggling evilly. He punched a random button, and the device lit up.
"Aw crap." Archer shot the suspension. It broke with a clang. Sending the device rolling across the floor.
"AW CRAP!" He yelled as the device rolled out of control and hit him, dragging him with it. "Improvising sucks!"
"Archer!" The strain on Kestrel's wounded shoulder was too much. His bloodied hands lost their grip, and he slipped out into the raging black that was the sky.
Kobin hit a button, and the ramp closed. He grinned. "Ha! They're Europe's problem now!
Somewhere, through time and space and a whole bunch of science crap, the galaxy was at peace. Saren had been destroyed, the geth defeated, and the citadel saved. Too bad Commander Shepard was now dead.
Anderson sat at his desk, Udina pacing frantically in front of him. "Do you know what his means? There goes the fighting face of humanity! Of course, we now lead the council. But the symbol of our newfound strength is gone! All we have left now are a bunch of Conrad Verners!"
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Shepard's death is tragic, but we must move on. You don't want another hemorrhoid now, do you?"
" I told you we'd never discuss that!' He snapped. "This is an important issue. Humanity needs a new symbol of strength, one that doesn't as easily get blown up by mysterious ships! We need more human spectres!"
"You work on that, I'm going to get a space guiness.' Anderson adjusted his uniform and got up, striding over to the fridge-of-the-future that he kept in his office.
"-but there are no potential candidates." He got down on his knees and shouted to the heavens. "HEAR ME, OH SPACE-FUTURE-GODLIKE-DEITIES! GIVE ME SOME CANDIDATES!"
As in if reply, Anderson's fridge shook and spazzed out.
"What the-" Anderson went to open it, and was blown back as two black clad figures rolled out onto the floor, the contents of his fridge splattered across them.
"Holy Saren's buttcheeks!" Udina squealed. "Who are you and what are you doing in chairman Anderson's office?"
Kestrel raised his head and weakly tried to rolled away from the unconscious Archer. "Vodka...blegh.' He passed out.
