(A/N: As stated in the description this is just a Merry Christmas, of sorts, to all the Mass Effect fans this year. This especially goes to one in particular. You know who you are. I hope this reminds you all of how this wonderful series can still be enjoyable and that an unfourtunate turn of events can not dim the brightest of ideas or souls. Merry Christmas Mass Effect fans around the globe!)

The black skies over London raged with bolts of lightning and echoed with the machine-like bellows of the skyscraper-sized destructors, the reapers. Each lumbering through the dead city between the buildings looking for organics to annihilate.

Out of the dark sky came a guarded Kodiak shuttle. It was an Alliance ship as it landed on the roof of a building welcomed by about twenty foot soldiers. Most were human but there were some quarians and geth standing side-by-side on the roof of the war-torn building.

A hissing sound came from the shuttle as the side door opened. Three heavily armed Alliance marines jumped out along with a dorky looking sort. He had a wireframe body with wireframe glasses. He was in a uniform rather than armor and looked back inside the shuttle while messing with his Omni-tool. Waiting on the final passenger of Kodiak.

He couldn't be seen as he stood in the open doorframe of the Kodiak. He turned his head towards the thin man asking, "Are they ready, Doxson?" The voice was commanding and grizzled. It was low but full of power and authority. Filled with the heartache of a thousand battles and the resolution of surviving decades of warfare.

The skinny uniformed man named Doxson pushed up his glasses on his nose as he took his eyes away from his Omni-tool sounding like any good nerd should that was involved with the military. Brash but still having that nasally voice, "Ready and waiting, sir!"

Stepping down from the Kodiak with some difficulty came a big man that stood proud on his own two feet in his late 60's. A general of the Alliance that had his feet, legs, hands, and the rest of his body gnarled by war. The right side of his face was rippled with scar tissue from a grenade explosion. His legs supported by Omni-tool activated braces that glowed with that familiar orange shine. So many years of abuse to them caused by countless war injuries. His right hand flexed with only two of his original fingers left. His thumb, index, and middle fingers replaced by cybernetics. That blue uniform fit him like a glove as he wore it proudly with several medals pinned on his chest. Not all of them given to him by the Alliance military either.

Breathing in the air of London the general looked up into the sky of black clouds and flashing lightning as the Earth itself seemed to be letting out a death rattle. He let out an exhale as he said, "Know me Death for I am friend to thee. I have brought thee great enemies before and if thou shall let my home live; I shall give unto thee a feast of world destroyers. Enemies that thou hast know but sparsely. Harbingers of not death but reanimation. They desecrate you Death and show thee impertinence across the oceans of time and space. I am here to rectify thee in their eyes. Death; your name shall have meaning to these mechanical beasts. Before this night is through, you shall dine hearty on these pretentious, so-called deities!"

All of the soldiers and even Doxson were all looking at him with cautious eyes. Doxson had heard the general talk like this before but never with such enthusiasm. He approached the general cautiously saying with nearly a whisper, "Sir, I know you like your poetry but try not to say it front of the men. They'll think your crazy."

The general looked at Doxson with a smile, "My friend, insanity is just what may save the day. They wouldn't have given me a command if they weren't out of options." He walked away from Doxson with a limp as Doxson followed behind punching up more information on his Omni-tool.

Trying to maintain a statuesque walk, the general asked Doxson, "Has Third Lance been told what is expected of them?" He was still looking ahead approaching a floor of the building without a wall. A perfect place to deliver his speech to the troops.

Doxson answered, "Third Lance is only at twenty-five percent viable strength. Most of the shuttles were lost in the first initial drop. The others are scattered about supporting other allied companies. Less than a forth have made it to the command post. General Root -" He stopped himself.

General Root had a sly smile slide across his old, chiseled face. "Never had a Pyrrhic victory before. It will be quite the celebration."

"That just it, sir. There is no victory to be had here! We should just leave right now and find a nice, safe place to…"

Stopping and turning with some trouble the general looked at Doxson with inquisitive eyes, "You would run from a fight as big as this?! Woe unto you Doxson. Such the boring concept. You may leave if you want. I know you are no soldier. Facing only two engagements in your life. Me? I think I'll stay. Hiding in a corner? No, I want to look a reaper dead in its face before I show it the power of my will! Let it try that indoctrination shit on me! I will just point at it and tell it to eat the dirt of my homeland as I bring it down!"

"Sir, indoctrination is no laughing matter! I have seen those husks and Saren Ar…"

Pointing his finger at Doxson, General Root nearly yelled in his face, "Don't compare me with that weak-willed turian! I hope his hell is shame for being so easily convinced to join these machines! Damn him to every race's Hell!"

"We're all damned to Hell!"

"Good! That means I get to kill these fuckers again and again. To my heart's content!" Turning around from Doxson, Root walked on struggling to keep his vertical position with the help of the braces.

Doxson followed behind him as they both took their places on the third floor of the destroyed building with Third Lance beneath them.

Looking down on them the general surveyed his troops. He saw all the races packed into the army. He saw a cluster of krogan as one was arguing with one turian as both stayed with their races. They both remained professional though as they just exchange harsh words and neither one got physical. Though, the two teams of turians and krogan did get exceedingly loud.

Behind the two stubborn races was a large group of salarians. Larger than what General Root thought would be there. They seemed to be in an orderly fashion and stood like human marines with their rifles over their shoulders and their large eyes glazed with experience. Outside of the humans mixed in with all of them, they seemed to be the most veteran soldiers there.

Across from the arguing turians and krogan were a few drell. They all seemed to be checking their rifles most of them being snipers and assassins. Not really front line soldiers but excellent in stealth. He saw one communing with an asari which drew his eyes to the blue cluster of asari. All of them laying and sitting down, seemingly meditating. They were the biggest group of races in Third Lance.

Behind them was an unbelievable number of elcor. At least seven strong, all of them with metal packs on their backs with rockets and heavy machine guns. Organic tanks. The general loved it.

Off to the side of the elcor floated two hanar that Root somewhat smiled at. He figured those guys would be working on the Crucible but here were two of them with nearly every tentacle equipped with a sub-machine gun. He couldn't help but admire their tenacity. They seemed young and brash and had probably watched all the Blasto vids. He just thought to himself, 'Bless the movie industry.'

Next to both the elcor and hanar were a group of about ten or so volus. They were checking their rifles and one them actually was hold onto a Revenant. He didn't seem to know how to hold it very well but Root was curious about it. It made him somewhat proud that bravery was in no short supply in his men.

Next to the volus stood a large mass of glass masks. Quarians. General Root took a breath of pride as he saw them mixed in with a bunch of geth. They all seemed to be cooperating quite well with each other. They moved with each other and talked to each other as he noticed two quarian troops sitting on a supply crate communicating with a seemingly Juggernaut unit of geth.

Truly Third Lance was a sight to behold but the general was stumped at something and asked his assistant Doxson, "Where are the Alliance marines? I see a few of them down there but they're just so few of them."

Doxson just replied with a solemn voice, "Most of their shuttles were shot down sir. They didn't make it. Seems reaper fire ate up most of them. Some made it on the ground but they didn't make it too long. I'm sorry sir."

"I knew Third Lance was mostly a xeno-army anyway. I probably won't see any of these face again."

"Probably not but they are awaiting orders sir."

"I know."

General Root cleared his throat. He was a boisterous man nearly all the time with pride and lust of combat. He figured there would be no better time for that than right now. He roared out like a lion atop of a great peak, "I see that the krogan and turians are ready for some wreckage!"

All of Third Lance looked up at the general as the turians and krogan in the army split apart giving their full attention to the general. Making sure he had everyone's attention, the general began to pace back and forth giving a speech he had wrote down and remembered word for word. "Third Lance. Rear guard of Hammer. Under the command of General Root. Has a nice ring to it. I'm just so sorry more of my kind couldn't be here for the final push."

He heard from down below a tall drell say up to him, bolting a round into a his Widow, "They're here general. We just can't see them. The gods wouldn't let them be out of this fight."

A smile faintly came from Root. Not being a big believer in anything except death itself, he still respected the soldier for noting his race into his religion. Giving respect to the dead and fallen that could not be at the final fight. If his gods did exist he hoped they bless the tall drell for it.

He took a large breath having a bit of pain shoot up from his legs. Even with the help of his braces his strength was beginning to waiver. He had to give this speech though. It might be the last one he would ever give.

"I have fought hard all my life. I have done what most say is undoable. I say to them that battles are never won with guns, or bombs, or even strategies. They're won with courage and soldiers! I stand here today as a soldier. Looking upon fellow brothers & sisters in arms.

They say every speech has been given, every song sung, every great story told. Yet there is one story they have yet to tell. One song yet to be sung. One speech still to be given. That tells of how an entire galaxy of peoples stood together past their differences, past their alterations, and past their proclivities. How they stood on a day unlike any other day in the past fifty thousand years. We stand as one. One army, one goal, one purpose. Standing on a field of battle like no other.

As soldiers we need this, we yearn for this, we want this in the worst way. Every soldier of our peoples has fought and died for this chance. This chance to say to these machine demons, 'We do not bend, we do not break, we stand. Defiantly, courageously, we stand in readiness, wiliness and ability. United not for freedom, not for money, not for hope, for pure survival! We stand prepared to give you everything we've got! To make you see we are not worthless, we are not slaves! We are our own salvation! You cannot fight us and win! You cannot run from us and hide. You cannot live with us and not die!'

All of us at the brink of extinction. I would have no other battlefield than this because this is my home. I would have no other enemy because there are none more powerful, and I would have no other army at my command because you are all my brothers and sisters now. You have all come to save my home. Turians -" He gestured towards the group of turians.

The turians in the group stood with honor as they readied their weapons with hard eyes and trained bodies of war. Their mandibles twitching with excitement and restrained fury.

"Quarians -" Sliding his open hand over to the masked people.

The quarians all stood at attention with the geth at their side. All of them ready for combat and ready for more than just war. They were ready to take every last reaper to hell with them. Even the geth next to them looked ready to eat their own parts and ask for seconds.

"Salarians -"

Standing at attention the salarians were the most organized and vicious death machine of Third Lance. The general could tell it too. Their eyes full of battle readiness and their three-fingered hands itching their triggers.

"Asari -"

The blue vixens readied themselves, most hovering into the air with biotic blue fields around them while others clasped their rifles with a sense of duty and honor. Most had seen Thessia in ruin and were biting at the reins to be unleashed.

"Krogan -"

With a roar of bloodthirst and all the mental stability of a wounded wolverine, the bipedal reptiles hoisted their firearms in the air and shot out a few round of readiness showing their eagerness to kill.

"Elcor -"

Making a few stomps towards Third Lance the large race gave a low-tone bellow of wanting destruction. They would probably be killed in the first few minutes but it didn't matter. They would take down as many reapers as they could. Death be damned.

"Hanar -"

The two in the back lit-up like Christmas trees with excitement even being mentioned. They tried to contain their excitement as one yelled out with all the pulse of vocals he could muster, "Oh, this one and his other are pleased with you general human. You can bet that these ones both are going to do their best against the evil of the reapers. We've seen every Blasto movie and some of them twice in slow-mo!"

"Volus -"

The small group of short, chubby armored volus looked up at the general a chorus of slick, air-breathing began. With one volus pointing up at the general saying, "We will not disappoint you -" taking a loud breath, "General!"

"Drell -"

The drell of Third Lance stood at attention as they all grabbed their rifles and stood as proud as any race.

"And of course, the Geth!"

The geth mixed-in with the quarians calculated the odds of him even mentioning them. They calculated that the odds would have been incalculable to an organic. Yet, with a sense of belonging, they stood proud with the quarians feeling part of the galactic community now. They would fight just as hard and just as valiantly as any organic they stood with.

All of them brother & sisters in arms. The past wars and inhibitions gone. The entire races of the galaxy stood proud on the precipice of extinction. Their last hour becoming their finest.

General Root finished his speech speaking with pride and honor as a wicked smile slowly stretched across his face with every word. "You have all come to the defense of my home and you have all become my family that I will protect with my life.

The reapers? We are going to reap from them pain, we will sow a future from what we leave leftover of them, we will cultivate their destruction, we will show them what we have learned about total annihilation. Because as I look at all of you today, I am reminded of every evil thing we have done to each other and now we stand united against them for pure survival. There will never be a word for all the evils we are about to inflict upon them! I tell you here and now, I hope there's a Hell and I hope you all believe in it. Because their going to have to open the floodgates, stack the sandbags, and evacuate the residence! For tonight in Hell - it rains with reapers!"

Third Lance began to move-out quickly, moving with vigor and tenacity. Moving like an enraged, giant dragon. The krogan leading the pack with turians right next to them. The elcor moving up behind them with the asari and drell guardian their flanks. The volus, quarians, geth, and two hanar drew-up the rear all moving out of the protection of the base behind the strike force of Hammer.

The general watched his army move out and began walking down some steps to the first floor. Doxson was a bit confused saying to the general, "Sir, the shuttle's back up this way."

Looking back at his wormy yet trusted assistant the Root said, "I know Doxson." He pulled an N7 Eagle from the small of his back saying as he looked at the gun, "How long have I been in the military now, 42 years is it?"

Looking off to the side with minor contemplation, Doxson replied, "45, sir."

With a huff of exhaustion for being on his feet for so long General Root sat down on one of the steps saying, "45 years?! My god, how the time flies. I remember the unit I captained during First Contact. I tell you when I first got a look at those turians for the first time I said to myself, 'I've met the ultimate enemy. Today would be a good day to die.' Then came the batarians. What ruthless sons-a-bitches they were. I remember saying the same thing during the race for the Skyllian Verge. Of course I was colonel by then. I captured more territory for humanity than any other commander at the time. I also killed a lot of batarians in the process.

As the years went on and kept killing and being promoted, I saw the salarians, krogan, geth - ugh the vorcha. Did you know 2nd Armada was the first one to secure Eden Prime from the geth and establish a secure base?"

Doxson sat down with the general, "Yes I did. The Yorkshire and Hong Kong were the lead dreadnoughts, weren't they?"

Nodding his head the general remembered back. "I was station on one of the carries. Me and my army. 224th Battalion. Ground And Pound." He was looking at the Eagle again. "So many enemies." He saw Third Lance was almost out of reach. "Well, time to retire." He stood up beginning to descend the steps again.

Standing up too, Doxson swallowed hard asking, "General, what are you doing?!"

Still descending the step to be with Third Lance, he answered, "I'm going to be with my army." Root stopped looking at Doxson, "I know you don't understand but I think in all the times I thought that I had faced the ultimate enemy, I think I finally found it. My life - its been nothing but war. Without some great enemy I don't have a life. How fitting to die at the hands of the most powerful enemy the galaxy has ever known! You can't ask for a better death than that! To go out fighting the biggest, baddest beasts of all time!" Laughing to himself he said with a tear in his eye, "It took these fucking things to bring me knocking on death's door! Throughout the passage of time and space on our menial little home we call…"

Doxson yelled out with anger, "Shut-up! This is no time for poetry! You'll die out there!"

General Root looked at him like he was mad, "No time for poetry?! Son, the best poets in the world wrote their best during the worst times of strife. Its what keeps the common man sane and the soldier still fighting. Hope beyond hope." The general started to walk out into the thick of battle with Third Lance just a meter or so away. He said to himself, "I've waited my entire life for this. An enemy that is worthy of crushing me. Funny how it takes a damn army of demi-gods to put me down. Not many men can make that claim. Always lived by one mantra: If this is to be my end, then I shall make such an end as to be one of remembrance!"

Third Lance was decimated in a mere eight minutes. Before the Catalyst sent out its wave of energy across the galaxy, General Root died as he lived. In his final moments, the two hanar that were part of Third Lance were covering a group of biotic teens joined alongside General Root and the biotic kids' teacher. They fought for a good two minutes taking down marauders and brutes. Until the beam from Harbinger eradicated the general as he stood in front of it with his chest out, firing at Harbinger with a wicked, maniacal laugh. He stood out of cover taking most of the beam blast while the teacher, the students, and the two hanar were safe behind some cover he had ordered them to get behind while he tried to take most of the blast.

General Root may never be remembered for what he did or even Third Lance may be forgotten in the annals of continuing time. But know that you know. Know that in the final moments of a dying galaxy that you knew of him. Try to think of General Root, and all of Third Lance, during those last eight minutes. Remember that he was the one who still believed that a united galaxy could do so much. That ships and weapons weren't the ones winning a war. That it was the soldiers on the ground. Nobody proved it more than the firmest believer in it, General Root.