Mass Effect; Chronicles of a Soldier

Back From the Dead

My standard form of writing applies.

" " - Spoken

' ' - Thoughts, usually in italics, as well.

( ) - Commentary. I'm a smartass. You should know what goes here. My smartass commentary. Usually funny, always interesting. Details and explanations, or my personal opinions, unfiltered.

Italics- Usually things of importence. Flashbacks and certain things are in italics to seperate them from the rest of the story.

Bold!- Things like this are things that just stand out. Usually pretty badass, or just really scary.

Underlined words are oddball parts; anything that stands out, but doesn't fall into the two above categories.

Things in this font are sometimes Author commentary, or truly profound statements.

Those things just below this line, are seperators. They seperate different sections. Simple, yes?

~~Badadumdunbum~~

#2 With Friends like These...

~~Badadumdunbum~~

All I could hear... Was my heartbeat, for the longest time.

"We have arrived at your destination."

I gave a start, shocked awake by that annoying, mechanical voice again.

Agh, and I just fell asleep.

With a yawn, I got out of the pilot's seat, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. After blinking away the sleep in my eyes, I looked around for a moment, before I found what I was looking for; my rifle. Picking it up, I turned and walked into the passenger compartment, pausing for a moment. Omega; Greek letter representing the end, or the finale. Perhaps this place is a last resort for people. Huh. Well, I'm already here, so fuck it. I pressed the largest switch next to the shuttle door and it flipped up, allowing me to step out.

This place... It looks like a city, but without real sunlight. Everything was bathed in a dull red light, making the place seem a bit-

Well, dilapidated.

Litter and rubble were strwen about, the streets between tall skyscrapers cluttered with people, but they weren't human. Most had grey skin, wearing rough-looking jumpsuits. Their faces looked like a cross between a bulldog and some kind of insect, crowded by four jet-black eyes, with a face that looks like it was pushed in. There were several of them milling about, sitting on the ground, lying in alleys; this place reminded me of the ghettos on Earth. The reticle in my visor highlighted one of them, labelling him as a Batarian.

Hm. Batarians. That's their race I suppose, or should I say, species.

A few of them finally took notice of me, and began stalking in my direction, trying to look menacing.(Three or four of 'em) Armed with pipes, knives and one with a rusted pistol; my visor highlighted and labelled them as a very low threat.

"You're not welcome here, human..." One of them growled, feinting at me with his crude knife.

Tch, amateurs. "I'm not here to stay, and I've no quarrel with you. If you're looking for handouts or a fight, you're provoking the wrong person." As an added measure, I hefted my rifle just a bit as the shuttle door shut and locked behind me.

After another tense second they dispersed, stepping off in different directions, grumbling. I swear, though, I think I heard one of them muttering, "Damned Cerberus," Under his breath.

Cerberus, huh? Well, whatever.

I moved through the streets, searching, though I'm not exactly sure what I was searching for. Eventually, I found a fellow human; a girl, late teens or early twenties, wearing some kind of cheap, comfortable leather clothes. Not rich, but she definately wasn't homeless, since her hair was clean, and she wasn't covered in dirt and shit.

"Excuse me, miss!" I hauled ass over, catching up with her before she could turn and run.

Still, her eyes widened, and flickered left and right, looking for a way out. "W-what do you want?" She was frieghtened, probably with good reason, given that this entire area looked a bit rough.

Good thing she speaks English. "Easy, I just need to know what year it is."

She blinked and outright stared at me, no longer fidgeting. "What? It's 2185." Perhaps she was struck dumb by my simple question.

Wait, do what?! The helling hell? I couldn't keep from muttering to myself, "So a hundred and fifty years have passed..."

"What?"

She must have good hearing. "Nevermind. Can you take me to whoever is in charge of this rock?" Need to figure out a plan of action, but first, I need information.

"A-a-Aria T'loak?! Hell no, man!" Well, obviously just the thought of whoever this Aria is has this girl scared shitless.

Not a very friendly person, I take it. "Very well. Can you at least tell me where can I find this Aria?"

"Afterlife, but you're Cerberus. She'll find you." The girl turned, taking off as quickly as she could without looking to be in a panic.

Well that's that, then. Afterlife, huh?

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Took me about an hour before I found the place, with a long-ass line in front of it. Heh, and here I am without my engraved invitation.

I walked past the line on the right-side of the rail, ignoring the mammoth doorman(He was an elcor. I saw one or two others like him, not real common) and was about to go through the automatic door when a pair of batarian bouncers stepped in front of me.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?" The first one snarled, showing off his sharp teeth.

"Someone who is lost and looking for Aria T'loak."

He blinked, his two sets of eyes staring at me. "Tch... All you pompous Cerberus punks-"

I stopped him. "Alright, alright, I've been getting that all day. So what the hell is Cerberus, anyway? Some kinda insult to humans or something?"

He blinked again. "Are you serious?"

Yes, quit stalling before I forcefully push your face even further in. "Yeah, and it's starting to piss me off. C'mon, what is it? A racist term, or something?"

He was silent for several seconds, glancing at his partner, who shrugged. Then he looked back at me. "Cerberus is a pro-human terrorist group. They're known throughout the galaxy as bigots and racists, using violence to try to keep humanity as the only dominant race."

Now it was my turn to blink. "Great, fucking space-nazis. And here I am, wearing their colors. Well, no wonder people have been glaring at me."

"Space-nazis?" He parroted, sounding puzzled.

Oh, right. Human history probably isn't common knowledge. "Er, old human political party from some two hundred years ago. Very violent, very racist. Look, mate; I've been in cryo for the last century and a half, and I only woke up yesterday. I'm just trying to get some answers." I was shaking my head, really wanting to pinch the bridge of my nose, but remembering I was hindered by my helmet.

Damnit, Jim.

"Oh...Kay." He shook his head, grumbling before reaching up and pressing a finger to a device in his ear.

"Hey boss, you've got a visitor. Yeah, human, well-armed and wearing Cerberus armor. Real naive, too. ...Are you serious? Uh-huh. Got it." He looked back up at me. "Go on in. Aria's on the balcony overlooking the place, and don't do anything stupid or we'll have your liver for lunch."

Riiight, chucklefuck.

I moved past him when he stepped aside, calling back, "Thanks, mate."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Inside was a hallway, with another automatic door on the other side. A number of people were milling about in here, far better dressed than those I'd seen walking around.(Several batarians, a handfull of humans, dozens of creepy-looking bastards with sharp teeth, and a couple skinny, twitchy guys with big eyes and colorful skin)

Moving along, I went past the hall and through the door, into-

Afterlife.

A huge nightclub, with flashing lights and a huge screen in the center of it, showing a blue-skinned woman poledancing. Huh. A stripper if I've ever seen one. And behind it was that balcony. I went around the dancers, the people mingling and the rest who were drinking, before I found a small flight of stairs guarded by a turian with a rifle.(Turians; strange, tall, bird-like people with plated skin, flanges on their calves, and three fingered hands. Not exactly friendly, but they weren't as outright hateful as the Batarians)

He gave me a nod as I went past, then rounded another corner-

And found myself face-to-muzzle with four gunbarrels. Huh. My visor labelled the entire situation as a mid-low threat, however...

The blue-skinned woman with tentacles for hair sitting comfortably behind them? She was labelled as an asari, and a mid-level threat on her own. She was sitting comfortably on a luxurious couch. Hm. Must be the big cheese.(Ba-dum-cha!)

"I take it you're Aria, then."

She had a deep-set frown in her beautiful(For an alien) features. "I am. But the question is, who are you?" Her voice rolled off of her tongue, caressing my ears like the words of a passionate lover.

I didn't trust her. Not one damn bit.(Smart. She's a bloody mafia boss, not exactly the most trustworthy) "I do not know. The callsign I was given is Blade; it will do."

Her frown deepened, but she didn't move otherwise. "That doesn't answer my question."

Hm. Well, she's not retarded, that's for sure. "I was born on Earth in the year 1991; in 2015, I was drugged and placed in cryogenic stasis. I only woke up yesterday, in an abandoned Cerberus-operated station."

Aria's eyes narrowed, but no other reaction. She considered her words for a few more moments. "What is it you want?"

"Answers."

I got the expected response. "Nothing is free on this world, or any other." Aha. She wants to get as much as she can, then.

"Will information on a Cerberus science project satisfy you?" Her frown turned into a trustworthy smile.(Not really. I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her)

She snapped her fingers and the guns disappeared, the bodyguards shifting back to casual positions, looking around for other threats. One batarian in particular remained at Aria's side, looking to me like a personal aide. Or office bitch, considering the tablet he had, along with his brown nose.

With my gun-hand, I reached into my primary storage case and pulled out that tablet, handing it to Aria. Wasn't worth much to me, anyway. "A good bit of it is encrypted." The bits I wasn't all that interested in, like the technical specs and budget records.

She skimmed through it. "That's just fine. Well, now. It seems Cerberus has been busy lately." She looked back up to me, still smiling. "Have you copied this to your omni-tool?"

"...Omni-tool?"

She sighed, holding up her left arm. Around it appeared an orange-yellow hologram, of some sort.

"An omni-tool is just that; a universal do-it-all device that will do anything a gun or explosives can't." She tapped something out on it, and a carbon-copy of that hologram showed up on my left arm. "They're built into the wrists of modern armorsuits, for left- or right-handed people. Different functions are activated via handmotions."

I looked it over for several moments, flexed my fingers, then clenched a fist-

*Wuh-SHING!*

Then blinked, as a three-foot blade appeared and flipped out, extended from just above the top of my left hand.

"Whoa. Well, that's convenient."

Ahem. I calmly ignored the sound of guns being drawn behind me, just to be polite.

Aria looked surprised. "An omni-blade? Hm. Archaic, but effective, if that's your thing."

I looked it over for several seconds, before relaxing my hand. The blade dissipated and vanished as though it had never been there. Strange. Looking back to Aria, she was fiddling with her own omni-tool for a few moments. Then she picked up the tablet, handing it back to me.

"That data's interesting. I'd hold onto it, if I were you. Now, seeing as you don't know how things work around here, I'm going to get you out."

I blinked. Get me out? Something about this just screams 'TRAP!'

"Head out of Afterlife, and to the skycars on your far right. Talk to the Batarian there, tell him you're on the job. He'll take you to where you need to go. When you get there, look for a human woman wearing grey and red armor; she'll be accompanied by two men, one young with a beard, looking military. The other is an older man wearing yellow armor with a scarred face. Find them, and tell the woman that I sent you. She'll know what it means. And you'd better hurry, if you want to catch them."

...?

Alright, this is going to play out one of four ways.

One; The woman gives me answers I'm looking or, or points me in the right direction.

Two; it's a bloody trap. She and Aria aren't on good terms, and when I introduce myself, she'll try to kill me.

Three; It's a red herring meant to get me out of Aria's tentacles.

Four; I somehow wind up travelling or getting a ride from said woman.

*Beat*

Nah, no way in hell that'd happen. I left Afterlife, replacing the tab- Er, datapad, as she called it, in my case. It still had the data on it, so Aria had just copied it to her omni-tool. I think.

Anyway, heading right.

Okay, found him; a Batarian wearing blue and white armor, leaning on some kind of vehicle. Right-o, then. "Oy, mate." I approached, and he stopped leaning, standing up straight.

"Yeah?"

"I'm on the job."

He hooked a thumb at the skycar. "Get in." I did so, hopping in back and laying my rifle across my knees. A short ten minutes ride later, and he landed. or parked, or whatever you call it, and the doors opened. I got out, rolling my shoulders as he took off, heading back the way we'd come. Huh.

Maybe he's got a hot date.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

I wandered through the streets, an odd feeling of deja vu setting in. Walking through bloodstained streets, the sound of gunfire overshadowing the screams. The smell of death assaulting my senses, despite whatever filters this suit has in place. The only thing missing, was the underlying scent of gunpowder.

These battlefields exist everywhere, I suppose. Alone, I walked, marching through the area, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around me. I was ignored by the different armored people who hunkered down behind hastily consctructed barricades, occasionally popping up to fire at someone in the distance.

I didn't know what the hell they were shooting at for a while, before I saw some dumbass salarian,(Wierd lizard-like people with big eyes and forked heads. They're real fidgity, always twitching. They move quickly, always going off on tangents and talking a mile a minute) wearing armor and firing a submachinegun-like weapon stuck his head up for too long.

His entire head asploded, blood and gore splattering all over the place, including his buddy, who sat there gaping like a fish, before he started screaming. The body fell and hit the ground, but the sound was deafened by the other lizard-man.

'Well, that explains it; snipers. Just my luck, too.'

I sighed, doubled over, and roadie-ran across the killzone, until I made it to another safe area in that sniper's blind spot. I ducked through an automatic door, moving past several people wearing yellow armor, going back into the main thoroughfare. I moved along the walls, watching as several more idiots got their heads taken off.

There was one in particular, a guy in yellow, aiming through a scoped rifle. One instant, he put his finger on the trigger, and the next, the glass exploded out of his scope as a bullet went through through it and his helmet. Damn, that sniper was a helluva shot. A few moments later, I made it to the far side of the area, right next to a final barricade, and looked around a bit more.

Huh?

There, on other side of the killzone was a large room, with an aircraft in it. I saw several soldiers wearing armor of various colorations; freelance mercenaries, I suppose, seeing as most others were wearing matching color schemes. Except, those chuckleheads weren't what piqued my interest, because right next to them was a trio that looked exactly like Aria had described. A woman wearing grey and red armor that looked much more avanced than the crap the other mercs had. With her were two grown men, both fitting Aria's description perfectly.

Well, then.

I looked left, looked right, then doubled over and hauled ass over, flinching when a bullet whizzed right by me. It was off by a good two feet,(And hit some other poor bastard) but still. It was flying in the wrong goddamn direction for my tastes. When I got close, the older guy said, "Heads-up."

In an instant, the other two turned, facing me. The bearded black guy had a hand on the pistol at his side, but it was the woman who had my attention.

She was gorgeous, for lack of a better word. Short, dark brunette hair, a face that would make a goddess green with envy, and if the shape of her armor is anything to go by?

She had a die-no-MIIITE body that would give a eunuch a boner.(Someway, somehow. If all else fails, she'd tether a strap-on to the poor bastard)

Her eyes ran up and down my body, examining my posture, weapons and armor; I had to suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. It was the first involuntary movement I'd made since waking up.

"And you are?" She asked, her voice both compelling and convincing. Kind, yet commanding. It was a little off-putting.

"My callsign is Blade. Aria sent me." I waited a beat, carefully watching all three of them.(I was ready to go for the kill. Beardy first; he's got a hand on his gun, and is the most prepared for a fight. Then the woman; she may look pretty, but she's got the eyes of a killer. Someone who's looked death in the face and made him flinch. Someone like me. The old guy can go last, since he's gotta have the slowest reaction time of the three, and he'll hesitate to shoot if his bullets may go through me and hit the girl)

I half-expected her to go for her gun, but no. Her eys widened and she(Really gotta learn her name sometime soon, I'm all outta pronouns) looked me over again, a bit more closely. Normally when someone looks you over like a piece of meat, it's violating, but from her? I'm not sure. It was unsettling, but not unpleasant. I suppressed a second shiver that ran unbidden down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck already on-end.

"That's Cerberus armor, but I don't recognize it, Commander." The black guy pointed out, still tense.

"Aria sent you?" She asked, staring even harder into the visor that covered my eyes.

Nodding, I replied, "Yes; she said you were the one who could help me. I was placed in cryogenic stasis more than one hundred and fifty years ago; I only woke up yesterday, inside a derelict Cerberus facility. I don't even know my own name, let alone what the hell's going on. Look, it's a long story."

The woman blinked dumbly. "Wait, did you say a hundred and fifty years?"

Nodding, I watched her exchange glances with the other two. Beardy shook his head, expression screaming, 'I have no FUCKING clue,' Whereas the older man just shrugged. When she looked back at me, the older guy spoke up. "Wait. If what you said's true, then you outta know this. What was your country's standard-issue rifle?"

I blinked. "Which service? 'Cuz I was a Marine, and we had several, since we always got hand-me-downs. Most were issued an M16A4, while the guys getting shipped over to the sandbox typically got an M4. Then again, the special forces guys stuck with the M4A1 for the most part. But the US military had just changed its standard-issue weapon to the M416A5, and was currently fielding it to active-duty troops deploying in combat zones. Me personally, I had an M27 IAR, but I've been issued an M4A1 and M16A4, depending on the area I was stationed. Our sidearm was the M45 CQBP since I was apart of Force Recon, but the overall military-issue was the M9A1."

*Beat*

The veteran turned back to the woman. "Yeah, he's not bullshitting. This guy just might be the real deal, Shepard."

She nodded, and spoke again. "I'm Commander Shepard. You know how to use those weapons?"

My turn to nod mah head. "Unless war has changed more than I thought in the last century, yes. Three-post sights on the handguns, and a built-in optic on the rifle. Starting to think it's Swiss-Army-made, with all the bells and whistles it's got."

Another short awkward silence followed.

"Yeah, he's a freezer-baby. Haven't heard that phrase since my old man got himself an omni." The scarred man remarked, chuckling.

The Commander drily responded, "Right... You know how shields work?"

Again, I nodded. "Electromagnetic fields that deflect incoming projectiles, from bullets to shrapnel. Shielding indicator shows how many more hits you can take before the charge depletes. Anything else?"

"And thermal clips?" She prompted, giving me a pointed look.

Thermal wotsits? OH, right. "Those would be the cartridges used in these new firearms, right?" I asked, head tilted.

She facepalmed, sighing. "Yes and no. Here." She fiddled with her omni-tool for a moment, before mine it up. Several articles had been transferred; manuals on the M8 Avenger, M3 Predator, as well as several other weapons. I looked into them, skimming their contents for a few moments.

Aha, thermal clips. They're effectively magazines for these weapons, and they're loaded into an internal storage compartment.

'Heh, yo dawg, lemme put a magazine, in yo magazine, ya dig?'

Yep, sorry to say that was my first thought on the subject, heheh. That meme was that prevelant, to have shined through in my memories. "Ah, so each thermal clip is effectively a disposable, pre-loaded magazine. Well, that explains why they switched back to stripper clips. Hundreds of rounds in a single weapon without bulky ammo boxes, and they're even made to be universal for rifles and pistols. Nice." That's a very appreciable advantage, especially if you've had to carry the extra rounds for the squad's automatic rifleman.(Ie, the guy who carries the belt-fed machinegun)

Also, this now makes sense as to why there are relatively few ammo compartments on the front of the armor, where it is quickest to access.(Only six. Four on the front of my waist, and two horizontal ones on the right side of my abdomen, accessible by my left hand)

"Fifty creds says he kicks the bucket within the hour." The older guy in yellow remarked, turning to his goatee-wearing partner.

"I'll take that and raise you ten." They both nodded, betting on my survival.

Chucklefucks.

Shepard was about to speak, when there was a commotion just behind her. Another Batarian wearing that same blue and white mercenary armor scrambled to a console, shouting orders through it. Then the freelancers next to us began checking their weapons, heading past me and into the killzone.

Huh. Must be mass suicide week.

"Damnit. Alright, Blade. Stay close to me, keep your head down, and only shoot who I tell you to shoot. Got that?" For some reason-

"Understood, Shepard." Her voice compelled me, though I couldn't even begin to explain it. It just felt right. Natural. Anyway, as the batarian got back to work repairing the side of that aircraft, Shepard sidled up to him, picking up something off the workbench next to him.

"You're working too hard." She remarked, just before the sound of electricity crackling filled the air, and she stabbed him in the back with said device, turning as she did so, walking away from his twitching, smoking, screaming form.

Her, I like.

Chuckling, I fell into step just behind her, shaking my head. "A shocking development."

"He was practically eclectric." Beardy continued, smirking.

The older guy was just shaking his head. "Ah, quit makin' fun of ole Sparky, he did his job real well. I mean, he was always ecstatic about work."

*Beat*

"You're all horrible, and you should feel bad." Shepard called back, chuckling to herself. The three of us shared a look; I recognized fellow soldiers, men of valor, strength and discipline, who have fought numerous battles, and had countless brushes with death.

Men who all have a shared sense of humor.

As we proceded, I asked, "So, what're our chances of walking outta here without catching lead with our teeth?"

"Oh, 'bout one in a million." The old guy replied, pulling an Avenger off his back.

'Bout what I expected. "Lovely. And you two are?"

"Jacob Taylor. Good to meet you, Blade." The black guy,(If he dies first, Capcom is SO going to sue me.) Jacob, I corrected myself, stuck out his hand, which I shook as we walked towards the main barricade.

"Same here, Mr. Taylor."

The other one, older with battle-worn armor, introduced himself. "Zaeed Massani, bounty hunter and badass extraordinair. Keep your head down and try not to get hit, new guy." Err, right.

Well, he's friendly enough.

Shepard lead the way, easily clearing the barricade and landing on the other side. I followed close behind, landing in a crouch. It was a bridge, littered with bodies of all kinds. On the other side was a large two-story apartment. Several of the freelancers were across, with a few stragglers picking up the rear. The sniper wasn't taking pot shots at us, so-

"Heh, Tarak's in for one hell of a surprise," Zaeed remarked, shouldering his rifle.

"Alright, let's give the mercs a surprise of our own." Shepard had an Avenger in her hands, taking aim at the nearest mercenary. "The mercs are fair game, but don't shoot the Turian sniper! Anything else, wipe 'em out!" She shouted, firing at the nearest freelancer.

He turned as he fell, a half-dozen bulletholes in his back.

Right.

I shouldered my rifle, set it to single, and fell back on muscle memory.

First target. Line 'em up,

And knock 'em dead!

~~Badadumdunbum~~

First shot, and his head snapped back as he fell limp to the ground. Snap onto my second target, merc with green armor. He had just turned and opened his mouth, when I put a double-tap right through his front teeth. Never stood a chance.

Zaeed and Jacob had moved across the bridge, maintaining a steady stream of suppressing fire on the remaining enemies, keeping them from getting a clear shot at Shepard or myself. Quite suddenly, I saw a massive blue field appear, and two of the mercs were lifted high into the air, motionless.

The fuck?

Well, whatever.(Don't look a gift lion in the mouth) I aimed and fired, putting a double-tap in each of them, their limp bodies clattering to the ground.

Move, strafe diagonal.

Two more, armed and ready.

One had his gun up, ready to fire-

He dropped, his head imploding in a bloody mess of gore, as a single shot rang out. The last one was just bringing a rifle to bear when Shepard got in his face, knocking his gun aside and smashing his face in with the butt of her M8.

Heh, I just love a girl that's willing to get her hands dirty.

Anyway.

Get military. Move it up, back against the doorway. Peek in-

*PIOWNG!*

A shot connected with my shields, a blue field appearing for a split second. There, behind a shelf. Merc, white/green armor, pistol in his hand. I rounded the corner, tugging the trigger once, twice, three times. After his bullet-riddled corpse hit the floor, I rushed forward, into the main living quarters.

Check right, clear. High, center. Left, corners, blind spots, check-check.

Turning my muzzle back up high to the overlook, I shouted, "Room clear, move up! Check high-right!" Hearing their footsteps catching up, I dashed up the stairs, putting my back to the support pillar. Left, clear. Right side, two targets. One working the door, the other looking this way.

Fuck 'em.

I turned, flicking the selector as I dived into the hall, holding the trigger as I went.

*Batatatatataaaat!*

I hit the floor hard, landing on my stomache. In an instant, I shifted to a supported prone position, snapping my sights on the last guy. He'd gotten lucky, as all my rounds struck his buddy while he'd been trying to work the locked automatic door open, using his omni-tool.

He was turning, pistol in hand, when I pulled the trigger and sent four rounds through his crotchplate like a hot knife through butter. Oooh, ouch. He screamed in agonizing anguish, dropping to the floor, gripping his shredded manhood. Not feeling particularly sadistic, I fired one last time, putting him out of his misery. As I shoved myself back to my feet and scrambled down the hall and slammed my back against the doorway, I checked my ammo count.

Two rounds left in my gun. I ejected the clip and took a knee, waiting on the others. Six seconds later, I was joined by the Commander and her two subordinates.(Toadies)

Shepard took her place on the opposite side of the door while Jacob began working on the door console. Zaeed dropped to a knee and watched our six o'clock while he worked. We waited.

Twenty seconds, before the door slid open, Jacob taking a step back as Shepard and I stepped inside.

Clear right, front-

Sniper, Turian, blue and black armor. Shepard lowered her rifle, holding a hand out in front of me. I lowered my own weapon as Shepard spoke. "Archangel?" She prompted, addressing the Turian. Huh.

Archangel?

The Turian in question held up his left hand with one finger raised, a universal signal for 'One moment, please,' Before readjusting his grip and waiting, looking downrange. After several seconds, he fired a single shot, and in the distance-

*Fwumpk*

I heard a body hit the ground.

Then he turned, climbing off his makeshift sniper's perch as he reached up with his off-hand, removing his helmet. Setting it down, he took a seat, placing the butt of his rifle on the floor. He was like any other turian I've seen, with light beige plates. Well, except for the blue facepaint, and some kind of targeting visor worn over his left eye.(Under his helmet?! The hell?)

"Shepard. It's good to see you."

Shepard's jaw dropped, before she grinned. "Garrus! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, just a little target practice, keeping my skills sharp." He replied, his inhuman voice sounding kinda like-

Hm. Peanut brittle. Chocolate-covered peanut brittle. Yeah, that's the best way I can describe it. Erm, anyway.

"You okay?"

The Turian shook his head. "Been better, but it sure is nice to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own."

"How did you get yourself into this situation, Garrus? I remembered you being a bit better than this." She was teasing him, smiling and moving closer to her old friend.

"Ah... That's a long story, Shepard. Tell you what. You get me out of here, I'll tell you the whole damn thing." Shepard held out a hand, which the Turian took. After she pulled him to his feet, they quietly conversed while I moved over to the balcony overlooking the bridge.

Hm?

Across it, I noticed something moving. A lot of somethings.

"Hey boss, we've got movement." They both instantly stopped, moving to the balcony, looking across.

The Turian, Garrus, looked through his riflescope for a few moments. "Scouts. Eclispe, I think. Here, take a look." He handed his rifle to Shepard, who also peers to the other end of the bridge.

*POWFUHL!*

Before firing a single shot, and one of the figures on the far side fell over, clanking to the ground. "More than scouts. One less now, though."

The Turian, Garrus, nodded. "Indeed. Just like old times, Shepard..." He muttered, moving back to his perch.

Setting up behind the guardrail, I asked, "The hell are those things?"

Down at the far end of the bridge were several of those human-shaped things, but they moved oddly; awkwardly, almost mechanically.

"Mechs, mass-produced automated dones used for reconnaissance. Their targeting systems are in their heads, so aim there."

Aha, generic mooks. "Roger that." Bracing my rifle against the guardrail, I took a breath and slowly exhaled. One, two, three, four... I got a quick count of the enemy numbers, and called it out. "Headcount of seventeen, repeat, headcount of one-seven."

The Commander nodded. "Got it. Jacob, watch our backs. Zaeed, post up on the left, cover for Garrus. Blade, keep your head down and try not to get hit. Alright, let's bust 'em!"

I nodded, already lining up my sights.

First target!

~~Badadumdunbum~~

*Badadadadadaaat!*

Gunfire tore through the air, leaving these little popping noises as they whizzed past my head, not close enough to trigger my shields. I fired, putting a four-count burst in the metal A-hole's head, tearing it from the frame as it started firing wildly. Another one down.

These things seemed endless. I'd taken out two dozen, and that's not counting whatever the others shot.

Hey, wait. Perfect.

Three of them were converging, and they would be lined up for a perfect shot in three.

Two.

One.

I shot to my feet, off-hand holding my rifle in a vice-like grip as I held the trigger, sending a straight line of lead downrange, through the first, second, and third mechs' heads all at once, with only five rounds. I felt a few slight impacts against my person, and noticed the blue field appearing again, with these little ping noises sounding with each hit.

But the indicator in my visor was barely moving, maybe 1/40 per hit? If that. Probably not even that much. Their bullets weren't doing much, that's for sure. After seeing that, I adopted a more aggressive tactic, bracing myself against the guardrail, using it as a barricade and firing upon the enemy, regardless of the incoming fire.

One, two, five, nine.

Twenty-six mechs were down and out before someone grabbed the back of my armor, yanking me down behind cover.(Nearly cracking the guardrail itself. I had a pretty good grip on it)

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?!" Shepard shouted, obviously pissed off.

I pulled myself up, innocently responding, "What?"

"Whattaya mean, WHAT?! I told you to be careful and keep your head down, idiot! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Hm. Make that royally pissed.

"...I'm not being careless, Shepard. Their weapons are barely registering on my shields." The indicator wasn't even an eighth of the way down, after taking so many hits.

The look on her face shifted from annoyed to 'Duh?' In an instant. "What? You just took more than two dozen heavy pistol rounds, and you're telling me your shields are still at full charge?" Now she was more perplexed than angry.

"I'm at three-fourths-" After another five seconds, they began recharging. A soft *Ping!* alerted me that they were at maximum. "Er, make that full."

"Well, what the fuck." She flatly stated, slightly irritated.

I tilted my head, confused. "You mean all shields aren't this good? 'Cuz I just figured we haven't run into any, yet."

"No. Scratch that, FUCK no! A military-grade shield will only hold off ten or eleven pistol rounds, and eight or nine from an assault rifle. If you're lucky, one, MAYBE one from a sniper rifle." She was shaking her head, in awe. "You're one lucky SOB, Blade. A personal shield that strong isn't easy to come by, hell, it shouldn't even exist, to be honest. Sounds more like an armored vehicle barrier."

Shrugging, I moved back into position. "If you don't mind, we'll discuss whether or not I should even exist when we're not getting shot at, Shepard. Till then," I pulled my gun over the rail, taking aim. "We've got work to do."

Nothing more could be heard over the thunderous din of battle.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

After another twenty minutes of being swarmed by hordes of mechs, and some kind of crane appeared, slowly carrying a massive, off-white steel box. The smaller mechs and Eclipse mercs had thinned out, to the point where there were only salarians and the occasional human left. Most were hanging back out of our sightline, no longer eager to catch lead.

"Huh? The fuck is that thing?"

Garrus(The Turian) cursed. "Shit! Heavy mech!"

Shepard then began snickering quietly, menacingly. "That problem should take care of itself, heheheh." As the crane dropped that big metal box, it started to unfold itself. Within moments, it looked like a giant version of one of those mechs, with a helluva lot more armor, and MUCH bigger guns.

My visor then scanned it.

YMIR Heavy Assault Mech. Mid-level threat, hard target. Maximum firepower recommended.

Maximum firepower? Thaaat's not a good sign. I readied myself, braced against the guardrail.

Breathe in, breathe out-

*Ba-Ba-Baloomsh!*

Eh? The hell?

The heavy had turned and blasted several Salarian mercs with rockets, sending blood, gore and various armor/body pieces flying through the air.

"Hey, look, it's raining lizards," I remarked, chuckling.

Shepard was shaking her head with a smirk. "They're amphibian."

I turned to look at her, giving my traditional sardonic/sarcastic response. "Well it's raining frogs, then; just to be politically correct. Y'know, 'cuz I never will be again."

She cracked up, giggling. "Eheheheheh, you're going to get along great with Joker, I can already tell."

Ooookay. Dunno if I should be happy or sad about that. Eh, no matter.

Anyway, it took some more time, but after a short while the Eclipse mercs finally managed to destroy the YMIR with rockets, but not before it got one final shot off, killing the lot of 'em. Heh, saves us the time and ammo.

"Well, that takes care of that." The sniper hopped off his perch, rolling his shoulders.

"Yep, just the Blood Pack and Blue Suns left. Think we can break through?" Shepard was reloading her rifle, while Zaeed had a knife in his hand, etching a few more notches in the stock of his rifle. I counted well over two hundred of them on just the one side. Guy must be a good shot.

"I doubt it, but just maybe-"

*BADABADABALOOOOOOMSHCKAaaaa...!* The entire building shook beneath our feet, rumbling uncertainly.

Fuck. My. Life. "Uh, hey boss? Please tell me that was your stomache," I snarked, shaking my head ruefully. This was just great, just fucking lovely. I hate my luck

"I wish."

Zaeed was on one knee, hand on the floor. "Felt like it came fom the lower levels, high explosives, I'd wager."

Now it was Shepard's turn to shake her head. "Great. Garrus?"

The Turian was on his omni-tool, already headed back to his perch. "Well, they had to use their brains eventually. Get going, Shepard! Door to the lower levels is just under the staircase!"

She nodded, moving for the door. "I'm not leaving you alone! Blade! Keep him alive!"

I was already at the guardrail, setting up. "You got it. Both of us or none of us, Shepard."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Bridge was clear of everything but bodies and debris. I was waiting, expecting the enemy to come in droves.

Breath in, breath out.

Focus; think of nothing but the enemy before yo-

"So, Shepard's working with Cerberus now."

Or, not. "Dunno. One of her toa- Erm, subordinates, is. I've no affiliations; this armor was kindly, ah, donated by said organization. Though why they did it, I've no idea. I take it you and the Commander go back?"

Garrus nodded, still looking downscope. "Yeah. Two years ago, we worked together to take down a rogue Spectre. Some months after, her ship was ambushed and destroyed. I'd just barely gotten into one of the escape pods, and I got frontrow seats. The Normandy was completely obliterated, with Shepard onboard. Frankly, I'm still shocked to see her alive."

I blinked, impressed. "Huh. And she survived getting tossed into vacuum, to boot? Er, remind me not to piss her off, mate."(Now, I shudder to imagine if I actually managed that. Oough... Probably wouldn't be enough left of me to fill my helmet)

The sniper chuckled, responding, "Noted. And if you do manage it, give me a heads-up. I want time to jump ship."

We both chuckled, still scanning for enemy targets. "Huh. Why aren't they attacking yet? Are these punks smarter than the last group?" I was starting to get a bit anxious. By now, a frontal ground assault would already be underway, as there's no point in delaying an op when the enemy knows you're coming, can see your position, and is ready for you.

"Doubtful. The Blood Pack isn't known for the intelligence of its members. Ah, here they come now."

Hm?

At the far end, just now approaching the barricade, something... Wonky-looking, freaky even, with sharp teeth and holding a short-barreled, stockless weapon.

"The hell are those ugly bastards?" I asked, studying it carefully through my scope.

"Vorcha; they're more of a pest than anything. About the equivalent of your human cockroaches, but bigger, dumber, and they can carry a shotgun. They're nearly impossible to get rid of, but in combat?" He fired, and the nearest Vorcha dropped to the ground, unmoving. "...They die just like anything else."

Hm. I lined up my shot on the next one, sending a short bust downrange. Orange blood flew as the creature fell to the ground, an inhuman cry echoing through the air. We killed several more, as they rushed at us firing shotguns with wild abandon, their bullets not even coming close.

"Geeze, they just can't take a hint. How many of the fuckers are we gonna hafta kill before they figure out they can't get across?"

Garrus responded with about the same sentiment. "Oh, about another three dozen or so. No one ever accused the Vorcha of being very intelligent, anyway. Charging the enemy is about the limit of their tactical prowess; that's why they're almost always equipped with either a shotgun or flamethrower."

Well, that's just grrreat. Bullet-sponge redshirt cannon fodder.

After another while of shooting the sharp-toothed bastards, Garrus cursed, ducking just as a spray of buckshot grazed just over his head. "Fuck! Krogan!"

At the far end of the bridge stood a large, inhuman figure, holding a large shotgun at waist-height. "Krogan? The hell's that?" I asked, taking aim at the creature. Big-ass sucker.

"Krogan; living, breathing tanks. Their skin's like armor, and their breath is lethal. He was probably in charge of all those vorcha we just finished slaughtering."

Big, tough, and angry. Lovely. After a moment of adjusting my aim, I felt a slug impact my shields, the impact rattling me. About a nineth of the charge was drained by it, too. Damn. Strong gun.

My visor highlighted the fucker's ugly mug; around his eyes, and beneath that plate on his forehead.

There.

I tugged the trigger as I tightened my support-hand grip, spraying lead downrange in a straight line. Several slugs connected with his face and forehead, with the last two impacting the hump behind his neck. 'Damnit, still breathing.' I slapped the clip eject, hosing him down with another forty rounds as three more collided with my shields.

After ninety-five rounds went through his head and hump, he droppd to his knees, finally halting in his charge before falling face-first on the ground, going still as streams of yellow and red fluids spilled out around him, forming a brilliant pool of orange. "Huh. Tough son of a bitch," I remarked, ejecting another clip.

"Yeah. Most are dumb as a rock, but they make up for it in nigh-indestructibility. Whatever you do, don't anger one in confined quarters. It won't end pretty, for you or the walls."

Right.

More time passed, more enemies killed.

"Never miss twice." I almost didn't notice myself repeating those same words, ones I'd heard before. But I couldn't recall where I'd heard them.

"Hm? What's that, a metaphor?" The Turian rumbled, dropping another Vorcha.

"No, it's a blessing. I heard it from a sniper, once. Not sure why, but I remember it, just not the person I heard it from." Strange, I still can't remember her. It was a woman, definitely. A sniper, but- I just can't remember her face.

Not even her name.

"You can't remember?" He replied, racking the bolt of his gun.

Shaking my head, I responded, "No. It's a long story. Remind me to tell it to you when we're not getting shot at."

"Heh, you got it." He fired again, taking down another enemy. "Scoped and dropped."

I lined up my sights, sending a single round through two enemy skulls. "Look, ma, no face."

Garrus got another, right in the head. "Right between the eyes."

We shared a look, before chuckling as I said, "Looks like I'm not the only one full of one-liners,"

"Nah, it's more like two-liners."

*Beat*

"Heheheh," Another shared chuckle. We had a similar sense of humor, as well. "I get the feeling we're gonna get along just fine."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Some ten minutes later

Garrus put down the final Blood Pack mercenary, just as we heard one of the doors inside the apartment being cut open.

"Aw, come on! We just finished clearing the bastards out." Growling, I dashed over to the other side of the room, firing upon the assembled mercs that just stepped inside.

"Damnit." Garrus set up next to me, picking off those nearest the stairs. "Agh, where's Shepard when you need her?"

We both paused for a moment, listening.

. . .

"Nope, guess she isn't going to be quite that ironic. Ah, well." Garrus remarked, taking aim once more. Down below, there were a half-dozen Vorcha, and three Krogan, one of which was huge, even for one of his species. Shiiiit.

He was advancing, already at the base of the stairs. "Fuck, he's got shields. I'm moving to intercept, keep yourself alive, Garrus!" I got to my feet, dashing out the door and down the hall, throwing my back against the support pillar. Down below, I heard even more gunfire coming from a different direction. Shepard was here, then. Good.

Breathe in, breathe out. Just as his heavy-ass footsteps got near enough-

I rounded the corner, dashing forward. He was right there, crimson eyes wide when I knocked his gun away, and they widened even further when he saw what was about to happen. Because of his anatomy, he was unable to react fast enough when I pulled my leg back and- I wasn't entirely sure if krogan anatomy was anything like that of a human, but based on what happened, it's safe to say it is. Ahem.

And he was even less prepared when I gave him an almight whalloping KICK in the crotch, shattering the crotchplate of his suit, crushing his gonads like itty-bitty robins' eggs. Between the cracks, dark orange blood gushed out as the krogan squeaked,(Actually SQUEAKED!) dropping his gun and cradling his stubby arms to his smashed/shredded testicles.

I relished the look on his ugly mug as he went crosseyed, and even moreso the look he adopted when I snatched up his shotgun in my off-hand, and smashed the muzzle against his face.

"No, don't!" Someone shouted, far too late. I jerked the trigger.

"Boom!"

*BOOOMSHK!-Crick-CraPOPK!*

...

GAAAAAAAH!

"GAH-!" Up the stairs I dashed, gritting my teeth. My entire left shoulder burned like it'd been shredded with a steak knife. I had to get back in the fight, but first, assess the damage. I looked at my arm, and found it was twisted wrong; dislocated.

Damnit.

I breathed in, breathed out. Oh, this is gonna hurt like a-

*Pul-Cric-CRACK!*

*Beat*(Wait for it)

"SON OF A FUCKMOTHERING, COCKGARGLING WHORE!"

Aaaaaagh! FUCK! OW!

Son of a dick, my arm felt like it'd been ripped out, but after a moment, there was a slight stinging sensation before a cooling numbness spread out along my shoulder. Agh, painkillers; administered AFTER the suit reset my shoulder.

Sadistic piece of shit.

Gritting my teeth, I went back around the corner and down the stairs, suppressing the few remaining mercenaries. I'd worry about myself later; I've got allies to save first.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

After the Blood Pack had been eliminated and we all regrouped with Garrus on the second floor, Shepard gave me another dressing-down. "What the hell were you thinking, using a Krogan shotgun?"

I shrugged. "Didn't think they used a bloody cannon for a handheld firearm. Lesson learned, damned thing dislocated my shoulder."

Jacob and Zaeed shared a look. "That explains the screaming."

Shepard glared at me again. "I thought you got hit." Again, I shrugged.

"That would have been preferable. A bullet wound against body armor isn't as bad as a dislocation, in terms of pain. That aside, any bright ideas, O fearless leader? I'd rather not spend the whole day under siege, seeing as I'm not getting hazard pay."

Shepard looked to Garrus, who shook his head. "Only the Blue Suns are left. Tarak's got the toughest group, and the best equipment. We might be better off if we-"

There was a slight rumbling in the distance, a faint roar that was getting louder by the minute. "Uh, do you guys hear that?" I asked, looking around for the source. It was definitely NOT something we should ignore on a battlefield.

Garrus paused, cocking his head, listening.

Ahem. That's when I remembered that aircraft.

"GET DOWN!" I threw myself to the floor, just as a massive hail of gunfire tore through the apartment, followed by several small rockets that flew through, nearly blowing us to pieces.

*...!*

There was nothing but a ringing sound in my ears as I pushed myself up, looking around. When it died down-

Zaeed was shifting on his face, moaning. "Aughh, that fucker needs his eyes checked, all four of 'em."

Jacob was over there too, and looked up. "I'm good."

I looked to the right, and saw Shepard. "Ugh, holler if yer dead."

Pulling myself into a crouch, I called, "I'm up. Fucked up, but I'm up. Where's-" I was about to ask where Garrus was, when I saw him.

He was on the floor, on his side. "Shepard, I'm- Ngh! Hit..." His voice was weak, and dark, purple-ish blue blood was pooling around him. Not good.

"GARRUS!" Shepard dashed over to her friend, skidding to a stop on her knees, holding her omni-tool over him. That's when the roar of that engine deafened everything out again. I looked out the balcony, and saw it hovering there.

"ARCHANGEL! No one screws with the Blue Suns!" A voice shouted through a loudspeaker. It shifted right, hovering just outside the other window when a spotlight attached to it shined inside, covering Shepard and her downed comrade.

Just as I heard its guns spin up, I had only one thought. 'Shepard... I must protect Shepard!'

And like that, everything went grey, just before I blacked out.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Zaeed was just preparing to throw himself to the deck again, when the kid caught his eye.

His armor... There were these little red lights appearing all over it. Dim at first, but within seconds, they were blinding. Even his visor changed, glowing bright, blood red; the color of a krogan's eyes.

Just as the gunship was starting to fire, he dashed right towards the window, tossing his rifle aside. He was insane! The ship turned, firing!

The shells impacted his shields, a dozen of them before they broke and even more flew past, scraping the armor, sending sparks flying, but he ran on, paying death no heed. In the space of an eyeblink, he was across the room, jumping out the window, that insane son of a bitch!

But he landed smack-dab on top of that damned gunship. He caught hold, and held up his omni, a blade forming.

That- That crazy son of a bitch is actually trying to destroy a gunship with an Omni-blade!

Tarak shifted left, going around the building. I lost sight of it for several seconds but when it reappeared, the kid, Blade, had been tearing away at the hull, ripping out right good chunks of steel-plated armor! Tarak was obviously panicking, the ship twitching and flying awkward, but he didn't get the chance to actually DO anything.

The kid practically ripped the windshield clean off, looming over Tarak like some kinda god of death. The Batarian was shitting himself, staring up at the crazy bastard before he reached down and plucked the two-hundred-plus pound Blue Suns commander up by his neck, and held him up over the the side. Then Blade stabbed him; three, four times before tossing him aside like a ragdoll, well over the side of the bridge, to fall some twenty-odd stories onto hard rock.

He took a step back, and gave a-

The fucker actually JUMPED! Right off the ship, and he... Wasn't gonna make it!

I got to my feet, scrambling over to the guardrail he'd been aiming for, but-

What the? But how?!

He did it. The kid flew fifteen feet through the air, and caught hold of the guardrail.

"Fuck!"

I was up, moving over and grabbing his wrist before he fell, Jacob helping me. We got him over and dumped him on the floor, but he wasn't moving; not even breathing. The lights on his armor faded away, but he- He didn't get back up.

"Damn... Another one down." I looked over to where Shepard was fawning over the Turian. He was another lost cause; too much bloodloss.

'He's as good as dead,' I thought, just as movement caught my eye.

"Holy shit!"

The kid sat up, rubbing his helmet. "Augh, anyone get the plates of that semi?"

How did-? You know what, I don't want to know. "Heh, crazy bastard. C'mon, up you go." I offered him my hand, which he took. After the kid got up, he started looking around for his rifle. A man has his priorities, after all.

"Shepard, we're clear! I'm calling the shuttle now!" Jacob announced, hailing our ride through his omni-tool.

Well. Goddamn if this wasn't an interesting mission.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Alright, you all need to know this. I wrote this out fully, in rich text format. When I was done, it was 62 kilobytes. Meaning, somewhere in the ballpark of 10,000 to 20,000 words or more. Then, I lost it all when someone fucked with my computer. After that, I had to completely retype SIX FUCKMOTHERING HOURS of work. I AM PISSED! But I perservered, and did it all over again. Probably not quite as good as the first time around, but still. I did it. Twice in a fucking row. So if you're displeased with this chapter, here's what you can do;

Head down to your local pharmacy.

Ask for something called Viagra.

And it'll help you go FUCK YOURSELF!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

...Feel free to use that line when someone's pissing you off. Works wonders in the retirement community.

Anyway. Next chapter WILL BE BETTER. I guarantee. This was a rush job, and I suck when people rush me. (An hour or longer, or it's free)