Disclaimer: Mass Effect is owned by Bioware not me.
Shepard snarled as she opened fire once again on a Brute before it got into it's killrange, her hand whipping out to throw a warp field at the behemoth when a familiar feeling rose up her back and she quickly rolled left just as a peculiarly stealthy Banshee speared the spot the Spectre had been standing.
Jamming her scorpion into the hideous ex-asari's maw and pulling the trigger three times Shepard backed away and, while happily watching the Banshee's head explode, took a moment to ponder why she always felt attacks coming, usually with more than enough time to counter it. Shaking the thought as she leapt into the fray thinking of home, a once undefeatable powerhouse in Greece called Sparta, Shepard fought.
Shepard's squad leapt into the fray behind the untouchable force of nature that was their commander. They had all heard soldiers swear they would follow their CO into hell but Shepard inspired such faith that attempting to put it into words would only shame it. Instead they simply acted and acknowledged, however nonverbally, that Shepard was the only one they would ever follow ever again.
War looked at Shepard as the warrior destroyed wave after wave of enemies and grinned. It was rare that his chosen were so perfect for the job as the asari-loving Spectre was. So perfect some people actually understood it. His chosen was an artist on the battlefield, a goddess in mortal form, a hunter of men and she never failed... yes she was perfect as an avatar.