Corporal Jameson tried to control his breathing as he hid behind a liquor store counter. His hands, and the rifle in them, shook violently. This wasn't supposed to happen. Crap like this happened in stories and movies. He was a man of logic, a man who needed evidence. So he, like many others, had dismissed Shepard as a veteran commando who had gone off the deep end. Sentient machines coming to destroy everything? Preposterous.
They were here, though. They were trampling their cities, obliterating their fleets, and annihilating anyone and anything that wasn't one of them. He could still hear them. Walking through the aisles, sweeping through the streets outside, looking for something else to kill. In the distance, a mechanical roar sounded off; almost like a horn.
The Reapers.
Jameson finally managed to calm his shaking hands down into a light quivering. He was the last one left in his battalion. The rest were gone. Dead. His entire battalion wiped out in a matter of hours. In a way, he envied them. They didn't have to endure this Hell anymore. The problems of the living were no longer their's to bear. The more he though about it, the deeper he envied them and everyone else who died.
Only the dead know peace.
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fatal thoughts. He couldn't let himself fall into despair. He had to keep fighting. For Earth. For Humanity. For the entire galaxy.
And for his family.
Jameson's grip tightened around his gun. The despair he felt previously burned away, replaced by anger. Those Reaper fucks. They took his family. They took his father, his sister, his wife, and his beautiful little girl. They slaughtered them all without a hint of regret. They would pay. When Shepard finally returned with reinforcements, he would be at the very head of the front line. Killing them all to avenge his family. But he couldn't do that if he was stuck here, quivering behind some counter like a scared child. He had to go find some Alliance forces to regroup with.
He peeked over the counter and looked out into the streets. Cannibals and Husks were wandering around, aimless but vigilant. They were an obstacle. An obstacle that could be removed with enough bullets. Jameson sat back down and checked his equipment. A rifle, 2 thermal clips, and a frag grenade. Not much, but it had to do. A thought passed through his head, 'I wish I had taken mum's advice and became an Alliance Infiltrator. That cloak would be Goddamn useful right now.' Smiling slightly, he gave a silent prayer of safety to his mom, sitting around in an underground Alliance bunker with other refugees. The last of his family.
Corporal Jameson stood up in a crouching position and reached for his only grenade. If he could clear a path, he could make a straight break across the street and through the alleyway. From there...well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
His heart starting to pound with anticipation, Jameson primed the grenade and threw it into the street. It landed in the middle of a small cluster of Cannibals. The abominations all looked down at the beeping object that had landed at their feet, but before they could react the timer fuse hit zero and they were all turned into mulch.
Jameson vaulted over the counter and, ignoring the Husks in the store, bolted across the street. His heart was pumping and blood pounded in his head. The entrance to the alleyway coming closer with each step. Excitement gripped his chest. 'Almost the- '
The Corporal was tackled onto the ground, his helmeted head impacted the pavement and jarred him. The confusion lasted barely a second. Panic welled up in his chest and he threw his right arm out to keep whatever was on him away from his face. His vision focused and he realized he had been tackled by a Husk. Said Husk was scrambling to get a grip on Jameson's head. Its synthetic fingers scraping against his helmet, trying to get a firm grip. Jameson snarled, "I don't think so, fucker."
The soldier's Omnitool flared to life on his right arm and a glowing blade flipped from it. He slide his arm against the Husk, still keeping it at bay, until the blade was close to its throat. With an angry shout and a twist of his arm, the Husk's head was lopped off.
Throwing the limp body off of him, Jameson picked up his rifle and jumped to his feet. He turned back toward's the alleyway to continue running but stopped cold. A Brute was stomping down said alley towards him. Before he could even begin to think of a way around, a bright light whizzed past his face. Followed by several more. Instincts kicking in, he threw himself to the left against a burned out car. The Cannibals on the other side continued to pelt his cover with gunfire. Another shot pinged next to Jameson's person, but from the opposite direction. He looked over, his view partially obscured by a large piece of rubble, he saw more Cannibals walking down the street, these ones joined by Marauders. Looking back to the liquor store he came out of, he same Husks crawling out of the windows towards his position. With the Brute coming down the alleyway, he was trapped.
Time slowed down for Jameson. His heartbeat was sounding off loudly in his ears and every drop of sweat on his face suddenly became noticeable to him. He was trapped. He was going to die here, on some random street with no one around to care. He wouldn't be able to regroup with the Alliance, he wouldn't be able to see Earth be retaken, he wouldn't be able to see his mom, he- .
Mom.
Family.
His family.
Faces flashed' through his mind's eye. His grizzled father Allen, smiling proudly at his son; his sister Rebecca, laughing at some embarrassing thing he did; his wife Allyson, gazing adoringly at him. His little girl, Mira. His daughter. The brightest light in his life. Smiling sweetly at him as she gave him one of the large sunflowers from his dad's farm.
Hopelessness vanished from his being. Purpose replaced it. Courage seized his heart.
His eyes sharpened into steel, his muscles coiled, and the grip he had on his weapon tightened. He might die today...but he's not going down without a fight.
Corporal Jameson launched up into a standing position and aimed towards the group of Reapers coming from his uncovered rear.
1 burst. 2 bursts. 3 bursts.
3 Cannibals dropped dead. Jameson turned his aim towards a Marauder and held down the trigger. The rounds impacted against the kinetic barrier, shattering them after a few seconds and ripping into the Marauder. Jameson spun around and fired on the Cannibals on the other side of his cover. They dropped as the rounds tore into them.
Jameson saw movement from his peripheral and lashed out with his left arm. There was a sickening crack as the Husk's skull was caved in. Turning all the way to face the crowd of Husks running towards him from the liquor store, Jameson let loose with his rifle. The rounds tore into the ranks of the former Humans and dropped them with ease.
Click-hissss.
As the soldier reloaded his rifle, 3 rounds struck him in the left arm. Unimaginable pain shot through that arm and he dropped his rifle and threw himself against the car, a shout of pain ripping from his throat. He gritted his teeth and picked up his rifle again. Forcing his left arm up to grip the rifle, he fired blindly in the direction the rounds came from. Blinded by tears, he could only hope he hit something.
Loud thuds quickly approached from the direction of the alleyway. Recognition shone through the pain. 'Shit! I forgot ab- '
CRACK!
Jameson was thrown from his feet and was sent flying. He landed harshly against the ground and skidded a few feet before coming to a stop at the wall of the liquor store. His vision was white and the amount of pain he was feeling choked any scream he might have made. Through the fog of pain, his ears made out the stomps of the Brute coming closer and a terrifying shriek that could only be a Banshee.
His vision slowly came back and he was greeted by the site of the Brute bearing down on him. This was it, then. This was going to be his death.
Allen.
Adrenaline shot through his body and his eyes shot wide open. Ignoring the pain in his broken left arm, he swung out with his right arm. The Omniblade jumped out and sliced into the spine and wires holding up the Brute's head. With its head gone, the Brute dropped dead to the ground, narrowly avoiding crushing the soldier. Jameson forced himself to stand up and his eyes focused on a Marauder just a few feet away, bringing its rifle to bear.
Rebecca.
He stepped on the Brute's corpse and jumped over it. He stumbled on the landing and lunged forward, shattering the Marauder's kinetic barrier and jamming his blade into its head. The exertion brought him to his knees but he drunkenly brought himself back up, unwilling to just let this rush die.
Allyson.
Jameson stumbled forward quickly into the growing crowd of Cannibals and Husks. As he swung his Omniblade around, he couldn't help but notice that he was starting to feel weaker. He felt some light prods on his body followed by stinging and warmth. In his adrenaline-pumped mind, he offhandedly thought, 'I'm being shot.' He gritted his teeth and angrily shoved his blade into a Cannibal's face. If he was going down, he was going down fighting.
A loud shriek pierced his ears and dug into his brain. Jameson halted his rampage, grabbed his head, and fell onto his knees. He forced his eyes open and saw a pair of deathly blue, clawed feet floating in front of him. Before he could look up a hand grabbed his head and lifted him up. His eyes squeezed shut and he gripped the arm lifting him to take some of the pressure off of his neck. Jameson forced his eyes open again and this time was met with the skeletal face of a Banshee. It looked into its eyes for but a second before shrieking again and impaling Jameson on its arm.
"GHUK!"
Corporal Jameson knew that no amount of adrenaline was going to save him from this. He looked back at the face of the Banshee. Its soulless eyes gazed back, waiting for him to die.
Mira.
Jameson snarled and summoned up the last of his energy to lift his unbroken arm. He glared at the remorseless creature and choked out past the blood, "This is for my family, Reaper bitch."
With a flourish, the Omniblade flipped out and he jammed it into the Banshee's face. The Banshee shrieked and threw Jameson off of its arm. The soldier impacted against the wall of a building and fell hard onto the ground. He looked over and saw the Banshee turning to ash as the crowd of Husks and Cannibals walked up to him, doubtlessly for harvesting. A light shimmer of red caught his eye. Jameson slid his arm out from under him and grabbed the object. He instantly recognized what he had just grabbed.
A frag grenade.
His mouth split into a bloodstained grin. They weren't going to harvest him. Not if he had anything to say about it. Jameson brought the grenade close to his chest and primed it. With his last act set into motion he let himself relax. Pain wracked his body, breathing was the greatest labor in the world, and his vision was growing dark.
However, as he looked out into the street, everything changed. The fires and rubble faded away, replaced instead by a beautiful sunflower field with a house sitting in the distance. The smell of death and burning disappeared, replaced with fresh air and the smell of sunflowers. The pain fled from his body, leaving only numbness. The Husks, horrid abominations of a race no one could understand, were replaced instead with 5 people he loved so dearly. His dad was standing tall with a proud smile on his face and an arm around his mother who was also smiling proudly. His sister was standing to his father's left, arm crossed and a teasing but welcoming smile on her face. His wife, Allyson, was standing on Rebecca's left, looking lovingly at him with those green eyes he had fallen in love with years ago.
And there, standing in front of his wife, was his beautiful little girl. Her blonde hair twirled into the two braids she always made her mother do. In her hands was the Alliance Starfighter he had won for her at a carnival. She never went anywhere without it afterwards. On her face was the sweetest, happiest smile she could muster.
Jameson smiled back, "I'm home, baby...daddy's home..."
As his eyes closed and his breathing stopped, the grenade's timer fuse hit zero.
Only dead men know peace.
Corporal Jameson knew peace.