How do you capture a man's final moments? There's so much to be said, so much to do left, and so many reasons to continue living. But sometimes the clocks up, and the reaper comes collecting, and no one can avoid that call. John managed to return from the dead once with the help of a shadowy semi terrorist vigilante organization, and with some luck and help from a crew full of the most talented individuals in the galaxy he managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat at the collector base, destroying the abomination being built from human flesh and destroying the home of the zombified protheans.
But now, as he watched the hand like shapes of a dozen reapers descend through the churning atmosphere and the rain of crimson fire falling from the sky, John couldn't help but feel that these were his final moments. The reapers were here, after all the fighting, all the desperate attempts to gather evidence to prove to the galaxy that action needed to be taken against this threat, they were here. And no one was ready.
Anderson was saying something into the radio they had found next to the downed gunship, but the words echoed from miles away. John's eyes were glued to the horizon, mesmerized by the descent of death itself, ears deaf to the sound of destruction and dying all around him. It's almost beautiful he thought to himself. The way the clouds turned an angry red before parting as dark fingerlike appendages speared through the condensed liquid, ruby beams flashing and destroying all it touched. Air cars were fleeing in all directions, rats desperate to escape a sinking ship, but like those rats they really had nowhere to go that would afford their survival much longer than staying on the sinking ship.
"Shepard!" Anderson's voice finally broke through John's hypnotized state, and he returned focus back to his former CO. "The Normandy's on its way. We just need to hold out until she gets here."
Nodding once, the first human spectre primed his assault rifle with inferno rounds. Fatalistic thoughts were a part of being a soldier, coming as easily as the breath that kept their bodies alive, and like ragged breathing that resulted from sprinting for one's life, a marine learned to ignore that too.
Half a dozen fireballs crashed into the wrecked docking bay, mere meters away from where they stood. Both men dived behind the metal gurney as rounds sliced through the area where they had previously stood. Peeking his head up over the poor cover, John counted about eight Cannibals spreading out into the area, trying to find a position to flank the two defenders. The husks appeared to be the smashed together body of a Batarian and Human, roughly humanoid in form with a gun surgically strapped to their left arm. Crimson rounds spanked into the area around the two men, forcing them to remain behind cover. When the gunfire hit a lull, both men rose as one and returned their own answering shots.
Anderson's concussive shot planted a Cannibal on its backside, and a quick double tap of his pistol put the monstrosity down for good. John rose with the assault rifle already aimed at a target he had picked out earlier, trigger pressed down as the automatic rifle tore the thing apart. A blue glow surrounded the spectre as he focused his biotic powers to form a barrier around his body, absorbing the returning fire from the remaining Cannibals. Switching targets, he managed to hose down another two targets before the Avenger clicked empty, prompting the man to fall back into cover to reload. And not a moment too soon, his barrier had dissipated from the torrent of enemy fire and by the time he was fully knelt back down his personal shield had popped with an audible snap.
Anderson had used the opportunity when the enemy had been focused on John to toss out a fragmentation grenade which had taken down another two of the reaper foot soldiers. Popping his head out of cover, he did a brief scan of the battlefield, counting only two more of the Cannibals. Ducking his head back under cover, he signaled to John where the two Cannibals were taking cover. The commander gave a brief nod of his head before shooting upwards and throwing his hand out towards where Anderson had indicated.
A shroud of dark energy briefly cloaked the man before a dark blue sphere shot forward out of his hand. The ball slammed into the piece of gunship the enemy was hiding behind, exploding dark energy everywhere. The two unfortunate Cannibals were torn out of cover as the singularity picked them both up off the ground, leaving them exposed. John and Anderson ended the threat quickly with a few well placed shots.
Turning around, John opened his mouth to ask Anderson a question about the readiness of Earth's fleet for such an invasion, but was cut off as more reaper forces arrived in a flash of crimson fire. The roar of the Cannibals was accompanied by the howl of husks, a sound John had come to hate with a passion. Many of his nightmares involved watching himself or the people he cared about being torn asunder by these walking dead.
While the gunfire of the Cannibals kept the two men down, the husks rushed forward in a disorganized manner, zigzagging this way and that with no distinguishable pattern the eye could follow. The first of the human corpses to vault over the two alliance soldiers cover was blown in half by a well-timed concussive shot from Anderson. Risking enemy fire, John stood up and unleashed a shockwave that sent three of the charging husks flying backwards. Besides him Anderson had followed suit with his pistol in hand, putting down two more of the walking dead before they were once more forced back into cover.
"Running low on thermal clips," grunted Anderson as he slapped in his final heat sink.
"You and me both." Digging one of his last two thermal clips out of his vest pocket, he tossed it over to the admiral who gave a nod of thanks.
"Let's hope the Normandy gets here soon, or there won't be much left for them to rescue," said Anderson with a grim frown.
As if summoned by the former human counselor's words, Joker's voice echoed through their earpieces. "Cavalry has arrived gentlemen, hope we didn't keep you waiting too long!"
Two missiles tore apart the remaining reaper forces as the majestic ship screamed out from behind a massive tower to do an about face near the harbor. The underbelly of the ship opened to reveal half a dozen soldiers with rifles in hand.
"About time!" shouted Anderson.
The two men raced forward, vaulting over the debris that kept them from the ship that would bring them to safety. A mighty leap and John was aboard the ship, Ashley's hand steadying his body as he caught his balance.
"Welcome aboard Shepard." The tone did not hold any of the hostility that had been in abundant amount on Horizon and for that John was glad. Whether there was still a problem between them had yet to be seen. Turning around, he found Anderson staring back at him solemnly from the harbor.
"Come on Anderson! We need to go!" he shouted, wondering why the Admiral had not followed him.
"I'm not coming with you. You saw those men back there. There's a million more like them out there, and they need a leader."
"The hell you're not!" John shouted back. "We're in this fight together. If you stay, so will I!"
"It's not a fight we can win John. Get to the citadel, and bring us help!"
"What if the counsel won't listen to me?"
"Then make them listen! That's an order!"
Smiling grimly back at his mentor and perhaps the closest thing to a father he'd ever had, John gave a derisive chuckle. "I don't work for you anymore remember?"
Reaching into his pocket, the onetime human counselor pulled something out, examining them in his palm before he flung it towards John. Catching the dog tags, John realized with a start that they were his own.
"Then consider yourself reinstated, Commander." With those final words as his farewell, Anderson turned and raced back towards the dock never turning to look back.
Watching his old mentor make his way back away into the chaos, John felt the creeping feeling of death clench about his heart once more. It was very likely he would never see the man again, but they were soldiers. They each had their duty to perform, and sometimes one man marched to his death knowing he was buying time for another to finish the fight. If their roles had been reversed, John would have done the same thing.
"Joker, get us out of here."
"Aye-Aye Commander."
As the Normandy began to lift off, a flash of white caught John's eye. Turning his head, he found the form of the little boy he had seen in the air duct standing at an evacuation station. Their eyes locked for a brief pause and the boy waved at him with one hand. Turning around, he clambered into the escape craft that was being loaded full of civilians. For a moment John felt some relief in knowing the child had made it to safety. But then the dull eardrum bursting rumble vibrated through the atmosphere, shattering windows that had somehow remained intact so far.
Around the corner a massive six legged monstrosity the size of a building clambered into the harbor. With a turn of its massive head, two crimson beams of energy lanced out through the air tearing the two escape crafts from the sky in a fiery explosion. Covering his eyes with his forearm for a moment against the glare of the explosion, John felt his heart sink. When his vision cleared again, all he could see was the reaper tearing apart the evacuation site, the people underneath lost under a cloud of smoke and fire.
Closing his eyes, John fought with the emotions that raged through him, the part of him that wanted to scream and cry at the unfairness of the universe. Taking a deep breath, the man pulled himself back into control before stiffening his back once more. There was work to be done, and a time for mourning later. No doubt a million little boys like the one who had died were out there who needed help, and with each moment he wasted mourning for the lost of that one child dozens of others were dying similar deaths. It was time to go.
