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~~
#4 First Day on the Job
~~Badadumdunbum~~
Shepard asked for that datapad, to have EDI look into it for more information. I gave it to her, seeing as I also had a copy on my omni-tool to read. Maybe that AI will be able to decrypt it faster than Mordin too, so I've got that to look forward to.
After that, she left. I sat there for another five minutes, thinking. Then I got bored.
Sighing, I got my legs under me, pulling my helmet back on. The moment it was in place, the latches automatically locked, and I felt as much as heard it pressurize.
*Pul-Tltchk-chk-chk-chk-chk-chkuh. Kssshhrr...*
I took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, using that old technique for calming oneself. My head was still hurting, but now it was a dull ache that throbbed with my heartbeat, rather than an agonizing, tearing sensation. The pressure had slowly been easing up, the longer Shepard had been nearby.
Strange, to say the least. I walked out of observation, heading for the elevator. I took it down another deck, to what was labelled engineering. Stepping out, I was looking right out the viewport into the cargo bay.
This ship was huge; the size of a large destroyer, at least. Hm. To the left was port cargo, and to the right garbage disposal. I was about to head left when I found another door. Well, a pair of them, really, on either side of the elevator. Walking through the left one, I found myself in a stairwell. Across from me was another door. I took one step forward, and it automatically opened.
Inside, looked like an engineroom of the twenty-second century; fancy, with glowing consoles and dozens of pipes running under steel grates. Directly ahead stood a pair of crewmen in the standard BDU, both working a console.
"Yeah, mate?" The one on the left said, a guy with an irish accent. Or is that scottish? He had reddish-brown hair, so I'm thinking he's of Scottish decent.
The other one, a girl, actually turned to see who had walked in. "Yes?" She had more of an American accent, kinda mishmashed.
"Nothing. Just poking around, looking for a secluded place where I won't be pestered."
She tilted her head, looking at my armor. "Uhm... Aren't combat personnel supposed to remain on deck two?"
I shook my head. "It's a long story, but I'm not with Cerberus. Name's Blade, and Cerberus kindly," I paused, fishing for the right word. "Donated the armor." I had a wry grin plastered to my face, but they couldn't see it. She glanced at the guy next to her, who also turned just as they shared a look.
Before they both shrugged. "The hold's down the stairs next to ya, just don't break anything." The guy said, turning back to his console.
"Gotcha. Gimme a heads-up if you need an extra pair of hands." I turned and started down the stairs, just in time to hear the girl say to her cohort,
"Uh, aren't you more worried about an armed stranger in the hold?"
Pretty sure he was shaking his head. "Nah, we've got a badass mercenary-bounty hunter less than two rooms away. Besides, Shepard wouldn't bring TOO many homicidal psychos onboard, right?"
"...Kenneth, you just HAD to bring Murphy's Law into play, didn't you?"
Heheh, I like her. Anywho, when I reached the bottom, I found that the hold was- Well, sparsely furnished. Steel grating for the floor with pipes, tubes, and ductwork running under them. Dark, with a workbench set up and a military-style rack. Yeah, this is like home to me. I glanced at the underside of my wrist out of habit, looking for the time.
Eheh, no watch. Well, that's gonna take some getting used to. Gotta figure at least two hours have passed, so I've got at least eight hours to rest, with an hour up and about before we arrive at whatever destination Shepard had us going to next. Lovely. I sat down, pulling my rifle off my back and setting it under the rack before lying down.
Y'know what, this armor is pretty comfortable, even like this. I think it was designed to not be removed for long periods of time, at a guess. Well, whoever came up with it got that part right, at least.
As I closed my eyes, I wondered, 'What the hell did I do to deserve this, anyway?'
~~Badadumdunbum~~
. . .
"Blade. Report to the conference room, we're almost there." Shepard's voice called over loudspeaker, waking me up from my dreamless slumber.
Agh.
Huh-? Oh. Right.
Blinking tiredly, I sat up, still feeling a bit groggy.
I shook the haze from my head, swinging my legs around and standing up, rolling my shoulders before cracking my neck. After stretching a bit, I picked up my rifle, storing it on my back as I jogged up the stairs. Out the door, I got on the elevator just behind Zaeed, who was stifling a yawn.
"Oy."
"Hn."
And that's it. That's how soldiers greet each other when woken for an op. So anyway, up the elevator we went in comfortable silence. Heh, I'm just glad we didn't have any bloody elevator music playing.
"Heard you bloodied the Cerberus bitch." He said, sounding disinterested as always. Not sure what he was thinking; it's hard to guess with soldiers like him and myself when it comes to anything that doesn't involve planning or shooting.
I shrugged, honestly responding, "It was unintentional."
"Huh. Maybe she'll learn not to act like everyone's beneath her, now." I think he spoke professionally, seeing as he, too, was a soldier, and probably had to deal with haughty civillian contractors every now and again.
Still. Her, learn a lesson from a beating? Heh, riiight. "Not likely. I get the feeling she's a bit too ah, hard-headed for that." I was about to say stubborn as an ass, but she's got a really good one, so I held my tongue. (What? You thought I didn't notice it? When she wears that damned catsuit? Get real)
"True enough." The elevator stopped, and we both stepped out into the CIC, heading to the left, through the armory. Jacob wasn't there, so I guesstimated that he was already in the conference room. Through the next door, then into the room of conference in question.
Everyone else was already there; Mordin, Jacob, Garrus, Miranda,(Who was glaring at me and wearing a neckbrace. I tried not to snicker) and Shepard.(Wearing BDU's still, but her hair was dry and in place) She was standing at the other end of the table, hands braced against it. Just above the center of the table, was a projection of a hologram of a ship.
Purgatory was written on the side of it. Huh; a ship called Purgatory.
Wow. I'm done, just done.
"Now that everyone's here, this is the prison ship Purgatory. We're here to pick up Jack, who is reported to be the most powerful human biotic in the galaxy. This is supposed to be a simple walk-in and pick-up, but overpreparation never hurts." A prison ship?
A bloody PRISON ship, called Purgatory?
What. The. Fuck.
As I looked over the hologram and silently fumed for a moment, I heard Miranda speak. "The Warden's name is Kuril; he's a Turian who subcontracts the Blue Suns as guards. I don't think he would be stupid enough to cross both you and Cerberus, Shepard."
Purgatory? There is no way in all the nine hells that we'll walk through there without the damned thing exploding all around us. I spoke up. "That may be, but people are prone to all kinds of stupidity when money's involved. Unless they're delivering Jack to this ship in a small shuttle with their own people on it, there is still a high possibility of this being a set-up. If we're in their territory, they'll likely have any number of us outnumbered and outgunned."
I could feel the Cerberus woman glaring at without looking away from the hologram. The interior is large, with several seperate capsules; long sightlines and narrow corridors. Not exactly ideal for any military operation.
"And what experience do you have, dealing with military operations?" Her voice was sharp, meant to rattle me, I suppose.
You can't rattle a Marine; it doesn't work that way. "Nearly a decade in the United States Marine Corps. I enlisted eight years before the second Korean War broke out, and was on active duty during the entire seven months it took for North Korea to surrender unconditionally. In the fourteen prisoner exchanges I was on overwatch for, the enemy set a trap for all but one of them. People are remarkably predictable; if we go in and they ask us to go unarmed, then it is guaranteed to be a trap." I shrugged, looking through the different areas.
Outprocessing was the one we were likely going to be headed to. Hm.
"Your information is nearly two hundred years old. I think it's a little out-of-date by now." Her scathing remarks would normally piss me off, but I felt oddly calm.
"Perhaps... But instinct has never let me down before. 'If you've no logic to go by, your gut will never lie.' Would any of you care to bet money on whether or not this is a trap?" I looked up, taking in the expressions of the gathered crew.
Of course, Shepard was neutral, observing all of us. She was thinking through everything and ignoring our mini-arguement, methinks.
Miranda was pissed, as to be expected. But I think she was disagreeing with me just because she was angry. I mean hell, there's no way a prison would want armed soldiers coming inside to get a single prisoner. No, they'd ship the prisoner out; less chance of something going wrong. That set off alarm bells in my head, making me examine everything else a bit more closely.(Aside from the asinine name of the place. What a joke)
We recently pissed-off the Blue Suns besides, so they won't exactly be friendly to us, anyway.
Ahem. Garrus was neutral-looking, not taking part.(Not that I can read Turian expressions) Zaeed was nodding, also thinking it strange. Mordin? No clue, can't read Salarian expressions, either.
Jacob agreed with me, oddly enough. "He's got a point, Miranda. It's a lot more risky for them to have us go in, than to send Jack out in a pod. I say we play this carefully, 'cuz the last thing we need is to have to fight through a prison."
Shepard finally spoke. "I agree. My gut tells me this is a set-up, so we'll go in heavy. Since the ship has long sightlines and cluttered hallways, I want Garrus, Jacob, Zaeed and Blade with me. Garrus, you'll be handling long-range and any system-cracking. Jacob, keep any hostiles off of Garrus, and use biotics to force anyone in cover out into the open. Zaeed, you're on rear security. Keep anyone from sneaking up on us, and bring heavy weapons in case we need to blast our way out. Blade, I want you on point; take care of these narrow shafts and stop any trouble before it starts."
The four of us she picked out nodded our consent as she finished up. "We'll be there in forty minutes. Until then, kit up and get ready to move. Dismissed."
We all dispersed, walking out and heading in the two different directions. I was already running scenarios in my head, guesstimating how many people must be on that ship. One guard per ten prisoners, so-
Dunno, at least 500. Not good. Jacob caught up with me just before I walked out of the armory. "Hey, blade." I turned, as he handed me something. "Here. Took a little longer than I thought it would, but I got that sheath made."
I took it, looking the object over.
It was my knife; the hilt was sticking out of a rectangular box-like object, made of black metal. The edges were rounded , and the one side of it had a dull red light.
I set the lighted side to a specific place on my shoulder, right where I wanted the knife, and there was a *Whrr, ktchk* Sound, and it stayed in place. I drew the knife, weighing it in my hand. I flipped it underhand, over, reverse, then tossed it, carefully catching it by the blade, perfectly positioned to be thrown.
Flipping it again, I sheathed it, looking back at Jacob, who looked impressed.
"Nice. Isn't easy to maintain tacitility when wearing full armor." I shrugged.
"Thanks. When they designed this suit, they did their job well. Feels more comfortable than the old kevlar I wore in the Corps."
"Weight dispersal. Took 'em a few decades, but they perfected it after awhile. That sheath will automatically laser sharpen that knife whenever you sheath it. By the way... What happened between you and Miranda?"
I couldn't tell what he was thinking; he was pretty good at hiding his emotions, for a soldier. "Hard to describe. I blacked out, the same way I did on Omega. When I woke up again, she was on the ground and I'd nearly killed her. Just, ah, keep your distance, yeah? I'm not sure what causes it, and I don't want a repeat of that episode."
He wasn't furious, at least. Blinking, he asked, "You blacked out?"
"Yeah. My vision went grayscale, and then- It's like I blinked, and everything around me changed without my noticing before the color fades back in. Right after, I had this splitting headache, like someone shoved an ice pick through my skull. Gonna get the doc's opinion once we're back, but until then, I'm just gonna keep my distance from people and hope I don't have space-cancer or something."
Jacob crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. And worried. "It might be a side-effect of whatever Cerberus did to you, or something to do with the armor, if nothing else."
"Dunno. Wierdest thing, though; it didn't happen around Shepard. Not sure if that's significant or not, but I'll worry about whether or not I'm psychotic later. No sense wasting time worrying when there's nothing to do for it." I shrugged again, heading out the door as I called back, "Thanks, mate. I'll see you when we get there."
~~Badadumdunbum~~
Okay.
Got several things done.
Went to the bathroom; had some trouble with the suit, but got that out of the way. Dropped into the mess hall on deck 3 and met the cook, Sergeant Gardner. Him, I liked. He was just like a lotta the older Marines I've worked with, and even looked the part.
Though I think he was a little perplexed when I took my plate with me, as I went down the elevator into the hold. It's probably better if I avoid people until I figure out what the hell sets off these blackouts.
Good thing, too, 'cuz I mighta strangled him. Ugh, food was awful, even considering military standards. I mean come on, MRE's weren't all that great, but this shit?
Bleeugh!
Got it down my neck, but it was by no means enjoyable. I was ticking off the minutes in my head, and pulling my helmet back on when I head footsteps on the stairs.
"Blade. We're about to dock with Purgatory," It was the female engineer. I didn't catch her name, though. So 'Femgineer' will do for now.
I stood, double-checking my gear. Thermal clips, full. Extra medigel, got it. Rifle, good to go. Sidearms, double-check. Don't need the Mantis, we've got Garrus. Armor's sealed, barriers charged. I'm good to go.
Moving towards the stairs, "Gotcha. Thanks," I said, pulling my rifle from my back, checking it over one last time as I walked.
"Yeah..."
In my habitual preparations, I almost missed her tone of voice. Almost. I looked up, right into her eyes. "Hm?"
She looked, ah, uncomfortable. "You're not gonna go psycho on me or Ken, right?"
I blinked. Well ain't this lovely, already got a reputation as a violent psychopath. Fucking lovely. "Not as long as you both keep your distance. What was your name, miss?" I answered honestly, trying to be polite, at least. She didn't set off my internal bullshit-detectors, so I'll make an effort not to rub her wrong, y'know?
"Gabriella, but I go by Gabby." Ah.
So much for Femgineer. "Very well, Gabby. What happened with Miranda was... Unintentional. I'm still unsure of what caused it, so keep your distance. That is all I ask." Well, that should set things straight. Or at least prevent them from unknowingly setting off one of those blackouts.
I hope.
Anyway, I moved past her, ensuring to keep a healthy distance between us, then got up the stairs and out the door. In the elevator, it went up one floor, and Garrus stepped on. I greeted him, inclining my head. "Garrus. Your injuries feeling better?" The door closed as he turned, both of us facing it.
"For the most part. The only problem is that they itch like a bosh'tet. Doctor Chakwas said it'll be at least a week before we get a medicinal salve that works for Turians."
Ouch. "That sucks. A dab of medigel might help a little, if you don't mind the numbed jaws." Medigel, as I'd looked into, is a general cure-all for most battlefield injuries. Bandage, painkiller, skingraft and antiseptic, all mixed into one waterproof, airtight package. Good stuff.
He shook his head. "Already tried it. Just got squish-skin along with itchiness."
Double ouch. "Ouch. I feel for you, man. Had a broken collarbone, once, itched like hell for a month. Other than that, sympathy is about all I can offer."
"Hah! The doc said the same thing." The elevator stopped, and we both stepped out, briskly walking towards the airlock. Shepard, Zaeed and Jacob were already there, in full gear.
Joker called to us from the cockpit, "Docking in five!"
Shepard nodded, just as Garrus and I stacked up in the squad.
"Electronic countermeasures in place, Shepard. Shielding has been charged, and weapons armed; if Warden Kuril attempts confrontation using Purgatory's defences, we are prepared." EDI announced, her synthesized voice sounding from everywhere once again.
Shepard nodded, and gave a little speech. "We go in, get Jack, and get out. I'm expecting this to be a trap, but if a fight can be avoided, I would prefer not to get shot at today."
Nods all around, until Garrus piped up with, "But Shepard, it isn't a real mission if we aren't getting shot at."
For some reason, the little aftereffect of his Turian voice just made the sarcasm even funnier. The entire squad enjoyed a good chuckle, before Zaeed threw in, "He's got a point, Shepard. When's the last time you went on a mission where you WEREN'T getting shot at?"
"...As your Commander, I am vetoing that question."
Heh, funny.
Ooh, wait. "Anyone else suddenly feel a nasty hernia coming on?" I suggested, looking to the others.
"Oh! Ah, ow, yeah. Real bad one, too. Don't think I can make it..." Zaeed doubled over, obviously faking while making a doubly large ham of himself.
Garrus sucked in a hissed breath, holding his side. "Ahh, the pain..."
Jacob got in on it, too. "Agh, Commander! Go on without us."
While we were hamming it up, I heard Joker snickering in his seat, while Shepard was shaking her head with an amused smirk. "You would make little old me go in there all alone, surrounded by rapists and murderers and arsonists?" She sounded small and innocent and vulnerable, with those great big ole puppy-dog eyes filled with crocodile tears.
And like that, we were all backpedaling, coughing awkwardly, and reassuring her that we were just joking.(Damnit, Jim)
Then she turned around with a smirk, saying to herself, "I still got it."
Blink. Blink. "Why do I get the feeling she just played us all for fools?" I asked, likely with a stupid look on my face.
"That'd be because she did." Garrus replied, shaking his head with what I think was a wry smile.
"You get used to it. She's like those cute little city rascals, the big-eyed ones that steal your credit chit the moment you turn around." Zaeed grunted, once again indifferent.
"I did grow up on Earth," Shepard idly remarked, just as Zaeed's eyes bugged out.(Including his fake right one; it was a bionic eye, I do believe. He was right-handed, after all)
"You- You did? That... THAT WAS YOU ALL THOSE YEARS AGO!" His scarred face looked absolutely comical, his completely shocked and flabberghasted expression making the rest of us chuckle.
"It was?" She responded, innocently looking back over her shoulder.
"YES! The pint-sized little girl at the hotdog stand! I'd just given the clerk my chit when my truck started rolling downhill!"
Shepard blinked, replying, "Oh. That was you? Huh. Think I owe you a few credits, then."
His jaw dropped. "A few?! Try fifteen hundred!"
She smiled, beaming, looking twice as cute as she probably did back then. "Heheh, I ate well for three months on that. And you look just as funny now as you did back then."
Hahahahahahah, the veteran soldier was completely speechless, and that was a first for him, I'm willing to bet.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
After another few moments, the floor beneath us rumbled.
"Docking successful. Airlock, connected. Pressurizing." EDI droned, and I'm pretty sure she was doing that on purpose, since it probably bored the AI, too. Anyway, she eventually completed the process and the airlock hatch opened. The five of us stepped through, as I tapped my visor.(This was something that I did out of habit. Making sure it was there and sealed, a holdover from my training as a combat diver)
The hatch behind us shut and locked, just as the one in front of us opened. Inside we went, myself moving ahead of the others, carefully eyeing left and right.
Left, clear. Right side, short flight of stairs, several guards with Blue Suns armor and automatic rifles, six of them. One door just behind them. Seeing as I didn't get hit with a hail of gunfire, the others moved up, with Shepard just behind me and to my right.
Since I was the only one carrying my weapon, I suppose I marked myself out as Shepard's bodyguard. No big surprise, since I effectively was, being on point. It's the most dangerous position, requiring the best reaction time and speed; you also have to be willing to take a bullet for the people behind you.
Take three to give one; that's the mindset of a pointman.
We got up closer, before one of the guards, a Turian, said, "Welcome to Purgatory, Shepard. You package is being prepped, and awaiting payment. You'll need to relinquish any weapons for the duration of your visit." I subtly eyed the guards, looking for their reactions.
Most of them looked bored, truth be told, but that one Turian who spoke; he was anxious, shifting his weight constantly, expecting a fight.
"I'm keeping my gun." Shepard responded, calmly yet firmly. Heh, I get the feeling the guard was groaning in his helmet, worried about whether or not he'd be getting shot or fired.
Hm. Around here, that probably means the same thing.
Just then, before things could escalate, the door behind the guards opened and out stepped an aged, brown-scaled Turian wearing Blue Suns armor; the Warden. "All of you, stand down. Shepard, you must understand; this is a maximum security prison, housing the most dangerous criminals in the known galaxy. Your weapons will be returned to you on your way out."
"I'm not giving up my gun. Period." They stared each other down for several seconds, before he finally blinked.
"Very well. This facility is more than secure enough to handle five armed guests. Come." He turned, walking back through the door.
As we walked up, I kept my rifle in-hand, glancing at Shepard. She caught it and gave a subtle nod. I noticed the others take on a resigned look as they accepted the fact that they were willingly walking into a trap. They were well-disciplined, at least.
We followed Kuril as he droned on about the facility, how many prisoners it held, and the systems it employed to 'pacify' the local populace. He went on and on, stopping only a few times for questions, before leaving us on our own, telling us to head over to out-processing. Guy's like a fuckin' tour guide.
The moment he was gone and out of earshot, "Told you so. Y'all wanna pay up now, or when we get back to the ship?" I asked, my deadpan voice laced with sarcasm.
"Once we're back on the Normandy. Until then, just focus on getting out alive." Shepard replied without missing a beat.
I shook my head with a wry smirk. "Whatever you say, boss. Just stay behind me and try not to get hit."
Eheh, I dunno what any of them thought of that statement, seeing as I was ahead of them.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
Down another corridor, past some guards beating the living shit out of a prisoner, and then through a door that had 'OUTPROCESSING' written on the wall right next to it, in great big block letters. English, oddly enough.
As we passed the guards, I snarked, "Give it just a minute, and candy'll start flying out of 'em." Shepard roller her eyes and had a little 'chat' with those guards, whereas Jacob and Zaeed both chuckled.
"Candy?" Garrus parroted, perplexed.
"A pinata.(Yes, I know it's missing the tilde. Er, squiggly line that goes above the N. I don't know how to enter that, so sue me) It's an old human custom in certain cultures; you make a brightly coloured object out of paper mache, fill it with candy, and hang it from a high position. The children are blindfolded, then they beat it with sticks until they break it open and the candy spills out. A very violent children's birthday party tradition, originating from South America." I explained, and he Aha'd.
"Ah. Another violent human custom, gotcha." After that, Shepard rejoined us and we went through that door into a large, mostly open room with several long desks spread throughout.
And a single guy manning a console right by the door. "Outprocessing's just through that door over there," He said, pointing to said door on the other end of the room. Over there we went, but when we got within ten feet, I heard that little bastard turn tail and run the hell out, fast.(Unsurprising. He didn't want to be within ten miles of Shepard when Kuril betrays her)
"Eyes up."
"I know," Shepard replied, cracking her knuckles.
The outprocessing door opened-
Inside it, was an empty cell.
"I'm sorry Shepard, but you're more valuable to me as a prisoner, than as a customer. Drop your weapons and procede into this open cell; you will not be harmed." The Warden's voice came over loudspeaker, some kind of PA system. He probably likes to hear the sound of his own voice.
Sighing melodramatically, "Why, why, oh honourable Warden, you've broken my virgin heart." I hammed, rolling my eyes as I flicked off my rifle's safety. I heard several of the others chuckling as weapons were drawn.
Shepard was smirking as she turned and looked up at the camera.
Then drew her gun in a flash, putting a bullet through the lens. "There's your answer, Warden. Come'n get me!"
"Activate systems!"
And like that, we were back in the shit.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
"Move!" She shouted, and I did just that, hauling ass across the room to the door we'd come through, slamming my back against the wall right next to it.
Breathe in, breathe out...
Check motion sensor. Nine targets.
All hostile.
I flipped my gun, aiming the barrel around the corner, my off hand bracing the stock to keep it steady.
*Batatatatatatatatataaaat!*
I hosed 'em down, holding the trigger till the gun overheated. Pulling it back, I slapped the clip eject, rounding the corner in the same motion.
Seven bodies.
Holy-!
I lashed out, instinctively kicking a massive steel bulldog-like robot, sending it flying back into another one. They both wiped out and I brought my rifle to my shoulder, dumping a good ten rounds in each one. 20/560 left in my rifle. Check left, then right. Clear for now. I dropped to a knee, waving the others up. A clap on my shoulder came a moment later and I was on my feet, moving up.
Ten feet, turn left. Another corridor-
"Hostiles! Count of six!" I called, moving around the nearby short support, rifle at the ready.
I strafed right, lining up my sights on the first poor, dumb bastard. Turian, full armor, carrying a shotgun. He was just aiming when I pulled the trigger, sending a slug through his faceplate. I snapped my sights onto the next target, and the next.
Three more down before Shepard got the last two, saying, "Move up, and keep it tight. Don't be reckless, they've got us outnumbered here."
I nodded, figuring that was intended for me. Well, I go by my own, special breed of SAS; Speed, Aggression, Surprise. Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast, and scare 'em shitless. The key to going unharmed as a pointman is to be aggressive, to push the limit without letting yourself be negligent or careless. It's a fine line to walk.
Ejecting another spent clip, we stacked up on another door as Zaeed placed a breaching charge, waiting for Shepard's signal.
She looked us all over; I was in front on right, her leading on left. She held up a hand.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
Boom.
*BOWALOOMSH!*
The charge Zaeed set detonated, blasting the door wide open as we all rushed inside.
One guy; technician, nonhos-
"Gun!"
He had a pistol in his hand as he turned, raising i-
*POWFHL!*
. . .
*Thumpk*
"Well, that was anticlimactic," Garrus snarked, looking around the room.
It was an observation deck; one door to the left, but massive windows and a single console right in front of us. "Garrus." Shepard was at the console, waving him up. The Turian sniper joined her, looking it over.
The rest of us were on overwatch, looking around for any hostiles, traps or otherwise dangerous/pointy objects. Gotta baby-proof it for the Commander, y'know?
"...There's no other way I'm seeing, Shepard. It's either all or none." I heard the Turian quietly say, as they held a hushed conversation.
"Damnit. Well, they decided to turn this into a fiasco, so fuck 'em. Do it." Shepard responded, no longer quiet.
Could've sworn Garrus was grinning from ear-to-ear. "Already on it." There was suddenly a massive rumbling through the floor beneath our feet, felt like it rocked the entire station. "Done."
I have a very, very bad feeling about this. "What did you just do, Garrus?" I asked, looking outwards as Jacob worked on hacking the other door.
"I've just released every single prisoner on this tin can, including Jack."
As he spoke, there was a commotion just outside the big-ass windows. I didn't get to see it, but whatever it was made Shepard's jaw drop. "That's Jack? What the hell?"
Just then, a deeper rumbling sound shook all of us to our very core; it was very close by. "Fuck, damnit! Come on, they're going to tear her apart!" She turned, running for the door Jacob was working on at a dead sprint. He just finished working on it when she ran through, the rest of us hauling ass to catch up to her.
"Agh, we just had to wind up with a CO that runs everyday!" I heard Zaeed huffing and puffing behind me, with Garrus grumbling along the same lines.
"Huuh...Oogh, Turians...Not made...For distance running!"
I wasn't too badly bothered, nor was Jacob. Not surprising, really; he didn't look like the type to skip out on PT.
"Come on! I didn't come all this way to walk out of here empty-handed!" Shepard shouted, hopping over a-
A completely fucking destroyed heavy mech. Damn.
"I think I'd just settle for walking out of here," I drily remarked, worried that they posted not one, not two, but FOUR heavies to guard one person. Someone who was in cryo, even. Damn, and I thought I rated as a badass. Shaking my head, we busted through another room, then a final door, into-
Whoa. Into one of the main housing areas, now filled with rioting prisoners and armed guards, quite a few of which were rather irate.
"So. Who was it, that suggested we release ALL the prisoners?" Jacob asked, looking a little annoyed.
Shepard mediated, saying, "It's a good distraction. None of them are focused on us, so just shoot the ones that try to kill us."
"Which is just about everyone, these days." Our sarcastic Turian sniped,(Good pun there, huh?) shaking his head. Well, if nothing else, we were one big, happy, snarky family. Dysfunctional, but still. Like a family.
So like a family, we killed our way across the room.
Good times, good times.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
"Heavy mech up high!" Jacob shouted, back against a foldout wall.
Shepard was pinned behind four hostiles, suppressed by hails of gunfire. "I see it! Zaeed!"
"No go, Shepard!" Zaeed was maybe ten feet away, caught in the same situation.
"Uh, a little help here!" Garrus was, of course, under fire from the mech, since those things just love him so much. The cover he was behind was starting to look a little Swiss-made, right about now.
"Damnit! Blade, where are you?!"
Me? Well, of course, I was the dumbass well ahead of them, waiting for my shields to fully charge after soaking up a good five or six rounds from that mech. The moment they hit full charge-
Breathe in, breathe out.
I rolled over my cover, running for that mech at full speed. Only one or two of the guards were even shooting at me. Shields will hold. Armor's good to go.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
The mech noticed me and turned, bringing its guns to bear.
I juked right, then double-left, rolling along the hard floor, unflinching as bullets tore through the steel just behind me. As I had first estimated, the targeting systems on these have a time-delay of about .04 seconds.
Good enough.
Hop, roll, juke back the other direction and duck, roll forward, get down low. They can't keep up with rapid movements at close range, and they're slow-moving. If you're quick and sure, you can avoid its line of fire.
Seven feet!
I dropped and rolled, jumping from the moment I was in a crouched stance, several slugs skimming just past me as my shields draining to below half.
Through the air I went, until landing on the mech, wrapping my left arm around its head as I jammed my rifle against its face-screen. "Suck this!" And I jerked the trigger, hosing the thing down with forty slugs, before rapping the clip ejector against my armor and repeating the process. The mech was unable to target me, and further unable to hit me. They never made this thing with riot control in mind; it's standard military, made for fighting a trained enemy.
Not a crazy sumbitch like myself.
After three clips' worth of bullets, the mech gave a jolt before shutting down. Just then, I felt an impact throughout my body as the blue bar in my visor fully depleted.
'Shields down!'
I kicked off of the metal monster, rolling as I hit the ground, sprinting to the nearest cover.
*PIOWNG!* One hit, felt like someone punched me in the side with brass knuckles, hard.
*PEWNG!* Two hits, this one clocked the upper side of my helmet, and I felt the beginnings of a nasty migraine setting in.
*TIOWNG!* A third hit rocked my body, but the pain never came. Unknown damage.
I leaned back, throwing myself to the ground in a slide, turning and rolling as I came to the nearest fold-out cover piece.
Check-check, how we doing?
No blood, no serious pain. Nothing broken, no issues. All systems copacetic. My ass is in one piece.
Hm? What the-?
Another display appeared in my visor, this one of a small figure. Me; it was the armor, showing which parts were hit.
Helmet, upper right-side. No damage, round deflected off.
Right flank, round shattered upon impact. Good thing too, 'cuz a bullet there would have hurt like a motherfucker.
Backplate, upper right shoulderblade, right-side thruster. Round shattered, no damage, functionality unchanged.
I'm good to go.
Taking a breath, I waited the agonizing nine more seconds.
*Whrr...*
That blue field appeared around me as the bar in my visor began filling back up. I could still hear, and feel, bullets impacting the steel against my back. I flipped my rifle up and over my shoulder, blindly aiming up at the buards on the catwalk above us. Just then, another screen appeared on my visor, showing something odd.
It showed me the catwalk, with three guards; two firing, one in cover. Along with a targeting reticle, too.
Ooh. My visor was connected to the riflescope, showing me what it was aimed at.
Oh, that is just awesome.
Bracing the stock, I shifted it, bringing the dot over the nearest enemy out of cover and I fired, putting a three-count burst in his chest. Strange that these guards don't have shields. Then again, they're Blue Suns,(Ie; cheap) and not expecting gunfights. He staggared back, one hand clutching his breast while I adjusted, putting a last round in his throat. He fell over, dead and out of sight. I shifted my aim, moving to the next one.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
It took a few more moments before the remaining mercenaries and prisoners were finished off. "Room clear! Move up!" I shouted back, scanning for any hidden targets. Motion sensor showed the four of them moving from cover to cover, until right up on me. Shepard clapped my shoulder and I was up, moving towards the exit. Once up on it, we found some poor bastard that'd been swarmed by prisoners.
Hmph. For what they were doing, they deserved it.
"Poor bastard," Zaeed muttered, shaking his head.
I slammed the door switch, stepping through as it opened, sweeping my gun up, then left, moving inside. "Clear." I moved further up; it was a short, winding hallway. I had my back against the wall, sidling up to the corner. Shepard and Jacob were close by, covering. I went around, still searching.
Nothing, just another door.
But there was a medigel dispenser on the wall. "If anyone needs first aid, now's the time." I said, keeping my gun trained on the door.
"I'm good." Zaeed.
"Good to go." Garrus.
"No problems, here." Jacob.
Shepard was silent as she moved past me, getting on the other side of the door. I got right on the side opposite her as the others stacked on me. She gave a count of five. Four. Three. Two. One.
"Go!"
She did the same as I did earlier, slamming the button as I rushed in, focusing on targets straight ahead of me.
Close area, clear. Far side, eleven hostiles-
Scratch that, eight. Three eliminated by the Warden; he was up high, on some platform in the corner of the room. Three more below us and six on the far left. In that instant, Shepard took charge. "Blade with me, straight ahead! You three, clear the left side!" I nodded, making a mad dash straight ahead, across a short bridge, right at a guard who was standing there looking stupid as I clotheslined him, turning and letting myself fall...
Landing an elbowdrop that cracked his helmet, spraying dark indigo blood all over the floor. I rolled in that instant, slamming my body against a large metal crate. As I shifted into a sitting pose, still keeping my head below the crate, I saw Shepard hauling ass after me, maybe ten feet behind. Tracers were following her, stitching the walls just behind, coming closer and closer. Her shields were flashing, taking hits!
I turned in place, bringing my rifle to bear.
Seven targets, plus Kuril. He was being protected by some big-ass dome shield, bright blue in color. I ignored him, putting rounds on the four guys that were standing in the open.
tap and down. Second, rinse and repeat. I put a burst in the third guy's leg, ejecting a clip as I did, snapping my sights on the fourth guy as the last started to fall. Tapping the trigger sent a slug through the last guy's trigger finger. He even dropped his rifle, screaming as he pulled back behind some kind of large, standing steel cover piece.
Huh. Dunno why they had those things set up in here, but whatever. Another guard popped out and-
And caught a bullet before I could shoot him. I dropped back down behind cover, turning to look at Shepard, who was now sitting next to me, breathing heavy.
"You alright, Shepard?" She shook her head, face pale as she grit her teeth.
She set her rifle down, omni-tool appearing over her left arm. She pressed something on it once and held it against her midriff. Now I see; there was a little round hole in her armor right there between two of the abdominal plates, with quite a bit of blood seeping out.
I take it that's what's got her beathing heavy.
"Went between the plates... Shredder round. Not enough medigel in the suit's auto-dispenser," She grit out, clipped tones betraying how much pain she was in.
I shifted over, getting a closer look. It was a lot of blood, too much for such a small injury. The projectile must've tumbled. What'd she call it, a shredder round?
Ouch. Probably not a misnomer. "You good, or do I bring one of the others over?" I asked, peeking up over cover again for a quick glance.
Four guys, still hiding behind cover. The three down below were done, and there were still three more on the far side, distracted by the rest of the squad.
"I'll be fine, just keep 'em off me for a few!" She bit out, and I nodded. Gotta end this quick. I stood and vaulted over the crate, sliding to a stop on the opposite side of the cover finger-boy was behind.
I took a breath, then spun around it, slamming the butt of my rifle into the guy's helmet, turning it into a space-age vise.(His head was between his helmet and the helmet was between me and the cover piece. Squish-squish, motherfucker)
Relishing the scrunching-squish sound, I ignored the few rounds that scraped my shields and rushed the other three bastards.
One, was too close. I knocked his shotgun aside, drawing my knife in my off hand. Pig-sticking time. I jammed it in between his collar and helmet, tearing out his throat in a single motion. It took him a moment to realize how screwed he was as I viciously kicked him in the chest and sent him sprawling, clawing at his throat.
On to the next one.
He was further back, closer to the platform, next to his partner. They were both standing there gaping, staring at me with unadulterated looks of fear. I rather enjoyed that, heheh.
I still got it, bitches.
Moving along, I dashed from cover to cover, keeping an eye on my shield indicator. Mostly full, enough to handle their small arms.
Alright; run, jump, juke, dodge, roll.
Shoot, stab, Kill.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
Nicest thing about this armor is that it doesn't hinder my movement in the least. Most armors are heavy and cumbersome, especially heavy armor. Shepard's is an exception, oddly enough. Very flexible, yet very strong. She'd actually taken several hits, just one of them slipped between the plates. Unlucky.
Anyway. I was able to avoid several shots by moving low and fast, and it's astounding how slow these Blue Suns punks are. In my day, they'd be considered real amateurs, not even worthy of a rifle. Today, they're bare-minimum passed as prison guards. I guess they're here because they suck, or they pissed someone off.
Oh, well. Too bad, so sad.
First one caught my knife with his face, the second was too busy staring at said knife to react when I grabbed him and snapped his neck. The guy's helmet was like a fucking handle, it was so easy.
After retrieving my knife and looking over to the other three, I saw they'd cleared out the far side. "Room clear, except for this asshole." I hooked a thumb at the Warden, who was shouting obscenities behind that shield. "So... How do we crack the egg?" I asked, when Garrus looked around.
"Where's Shepard?" Oh. Right.
I jogged over to that crate, leaning down and looking. She was still cussing, smoothing out a large glob of medigel over her armor. "You okay, boss?"
She looked up. "Yeah, the painkiller's kicking in. Gimme a hand."
I pulled her up,(Her right arm, since the left side was probably a little tender) and she fought with me for a second when I pulled her arm over my shoulder, but stopped when I fully lifted her in a bridal carry.(That'll learn her. I get the feeling she's going to inflict severe bodily harm upon me later, but the look on her face was worth it)
Her cheeks matched the stripe down her right arm.
After fumbling for a few moments, I hefted her rifle and left mine on my back, then made my way to the others, setting Shepard on her feet behind a coverpiece.
The other three were wearing amused smirks, trying not to snicker. "Here comes the blushing bride," Garrus remarked, shaking his head with a Turian smirk.
"Stow it, Vakarian..." She growled, still glaring at me.
"Whatsamatter, Shepard? He's just looking out for his wounded CO." Zaeed said, sniggering to himself.
Her eye twitched. She then looked at Jacob expectantly.
He gave her a blank stare. "What? Surely you'd think me above making such petty insinuations," She took on a relieved expression, that fool. "...Mrs Blade."
Well, until he finished his statement, making her groan, "Great, now everyone's a comedian."
"Ah, don't worry, Shepard. We'll keep this between the four us." Garrus started, beaming. The four of us shared a look, while Shepard watched on with growing apprehension.
"And Joker!" We all finished, grinning.
"Oh, come on!"
After a few more moments of teasing, we settled back down and got to work on the problem. "We've got maybe ten minutes before this tin can blows. Before that, though, let's take care of the 'honourable' Warden." Garrus suggested, eyeing one of the wierd glowing pylons that had popped up earlier.
"Agreed. Let's just get this over with before that happens." Shepard was nodding, looking back and forth between the pylons the Kuril's shield. "Garrus?"
The Turian nodded, calmly strolling towards the nearest one. "Give me just a minute."
Two minutes later
"Alright, we're good. Three. Two. One."
*BA-BA-BALOOMSH!*
Garrus detonated the three pylons, and the shield protecting Kuril vanished.
I grinned and took a running start. "Your ass is mine now, bitch!" Giving a great leap, I flew fifteen feet through the air, arm extended. Not quite high enough, but in that instant where I realized I couldn't jump high enough even with the armor, something happened. My entire body gave a jolt in midair, and I felt myself being pulled up by my chest.
*Fuhl... Woooooooorrsht!*
Up another fifteen feet, well above the Warden's head as he stared up at me, his plated jaw gaping, and I dropped down right on top of him.
*Thumpk-Whump-Clunk!*
Fist up, clench.
*Wuh-Shing!* My omni-blade formed, swinging out to its full length. And as I brought it down, I wasn't thinking of eliminating an enemy. No, the only thought that echoed through my mind, was of protecting Shepard.
'Shepard does NOT belong to you!'
I don't know how many times I stabbed him before I took his head in my hand and lifted his barely-breathing corpse into the air, holding it over the edge of the platform, crossing my right arm under my left.
*Wuh-Shing-Ktchkshk!*
And rended the head from his shoulders, tossing the ugly visage aside, no longer concerned. Even then, I couldn't understand the surge of anger I felt, I just knew that I wanted him dead.
By my hand.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
[Cue Music: Wake The White Wolf, by Miracle Of Sound]
After that, we all hauled ass out the nearest exit, making our way to the airlock our ship was docked at. The trip was relatively easy, considering. We got back to the door we'd first gone through; there was a bulkhead shutter closing fast, and I'd just seen a thin figure sliding under it, not ten feet away.
Damnit!
Couldn't make that distance. I was a good fifteen feet ahead of the others, too, but even then-
'No go!'
My vision started to shift again, going greyscale. I could feel myself moving faster and faster, slamming into the shutter full-force as I instantaneously reached for the bottom, catching it by mere fingertips.
For once, I could still move on my own with this grey vision.
And just I felt...
Awesome.
As though I could bench-press the Normandy. I grabbed the bottom lip of the shutter with my other hand, getting a better grip, and I began to lift. Using my legs, keeping my back straight out of habit. But the strangest thing was that I felt no resistance. No strain, no burning. I remember working out, exercising my muscles until they burned like molten metal, and yet I felt none of that, only the slow give of the steel as I pulled, forcing it up inch-by-inch.
It was up to my chest when the others caught up with me.
"Blade!" Shepard shouted, sounding worried for some reason. I don't know why, 'cuz I feel great!
"Get going!" I called back, oddly confused.
My voice-
It was different. I don't sound like that, and yet I heard it; completely emotionless, but with inflection. As though spoken by an automated recording with too much bass behind it.
"Go!" She shouted again, and I felt the four of them brushing past; first Jacob, then Garrus and Zaeed. Finally, Shepard slipped past, giving me a worried look as she went.
Why is she-
Bah, whatever. I'll deal with that later. Ducking down, I switched my grip as I went under the shutter, then stepped well back, letting it drop as I went, turning to face the room. It was the docking bay; Shepard had stepped ahead of the others and shot a guard, keeping him from attacking a skinny guy with a shaved head and more tattoos than clothes. He was wearing trousers and boots, but some kind of belts instead of a shirt.
Then he spoke. "Who the fuck're you?" Huh?
Wait... The hell?
No, that's-
THAT'S A GIRL?!
Well fuck me sideways, she is. Girl with a shaved head and wearing nothing but tattoos from the waist up. Great, we're recruiting a skinhead exhibitionist. I moved up, taking my place just to Shepard's left, the color beginning to fade back into my vision.
"My name's Shepard, and you're welcome." Our Commander retorted, holstering her pistol.
The girl(She looked to be my age or younger) responded rather rudely. "He was already dead, he just didnt know it. Now what do you want?"
"I'm here to recruit you for a mission. After it's been completed, you're free to go and do as you please."
Jack(Had to be, seeing as that's who we're here to pick up) snorted. "You're with Cerberus. No way in hell am I going with you!"
Shepard was annoyed.(Putting it mildly) "Look, this entire ship is going down in flames. I've got the only way out, and I'm offering to take you with me... And you're arguing."
Another explosion rocked the station, as if to emphasize her point.
Jack bit her lip, looking both tense and anxious. (Not surprising really, after I heard everything else later on)
Suddenly, something caught my attention; a hissing sound right-
Just before an explosion not fifteen feet away knocked Shepard and Jacob on their asses, the rest of us barely staying vertical.(I teetered for a moment, taking a step back in the process)
After shaking the ringing sound from my head, I saw the others helping those two to their feet. Shepard's injury had reopened itself, blood seeping down her abdomen, starting to drip to the floor.
"Agh, fuck this!" I marched straight over to the tattooed girl as her eyes widened and she cocked a fist, a blowing blue field enveloping it-
But she'd never had any formal training in hand-to-hand, obviously. Her form was crude, and while she put her weight into it, she didn't use her legs to back it up. I easily knocked said fist aside, trapping that arm with my own before driving my plated knee into her gut, knocking the wind out of her.(Probably did more than wind her, but I didn't much care)
In that instant, I picked her up under my arm, turned and jogged to the airlock, the others starting that way as well.
"GAH! YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH COCKSUCKER ASSHAT PIECE OF SHIT-!" Damnit, she's loud. I nonchalantly rapped my knuckles on her skull as I went; she instantly shut her mouth, probably having bit her tongue. We were hauling ass, and once that doorlock hatch opened, I tossed the girl through it by the seat of her pants, turning to make sure the others got through.
Garrus, Jacob, Shepard, Zaeed.
We were good. I stepped through as the hatch shut and faced the others; Shepard was breathing heavy, clutching a glowing, omni-tool covered hand to her abdomen. Garrus was holding her upright, making sure she didn't fall or pass out while Jacob was inspecting her injury and applying medigel more carefully. Zaeed was staring down the biotic girl, daring her to attack.
Jack had scrambled to her feet, and was glaring daggers at all of us.
Ugh... My head was starting to pound, that damned icepick coming back. I'm not in the mood to deal with this shit. I rushed over, grabbing her wrists just as they started to glow, and shouted right in her ear. "STAND DOWN! Unless you want to blast ALL of us into vacuum, you calm the fuck down! Now have a seat and be glad you're out of prison and still breathing."
I forced her into a sitting position on the bench that ran alongside the airlock, taking a knee to keep her in place. As of now, my first priority is to keep everyone alive. If that means pissing off the violent psychopath, so be it.
"I'm gonna kill every one of you Cerberus fucks..." Jack snarled, glaring at me for all she was worth.
Tch, I've met chihuahuas that were scarier than this. "Try it, and I will personally throw your ass out the airlock. We just knowingly walked into a trap for you, so calm down. If we were taking you prisoner, I'd've knocked you clean the fuck out by now."
She didn't stop glaring, but her tense muscles did relax somewhat. (Keyword? Somewhat)
We waited another two minutes for decontamination to complete. When it had, the hatch opened and Jacob helped Shepard through, supporting her weight as he escorted her to medical. Ignoring my instinct to go after and fret over her, I forced myself to abide by what I knew.
Back to SOPs, then.
Garrus and Zaeed were stepping out when I pulled Jack to her feet, spinning her around, firmly getting a grip on her right shoulder, forcing her to walk in front of me. "Do anything stupid and I'll break your neck." I warned her, keeping my tone completely flat. I had my thumb hooked around her neck and pressed with enough force to let her know that wasn't a bluff.
"Yeah, yeah," She growled, still exceptionally pissed.
We walked into the CIC, and I saw many of the crewmen staring at Shepard, who was bleeding and being helped to the elevator, then at myself, who was escorting a half-naked woman covered in tattoos.
"Hey, Garrus." He turned, looking back at me. He looked tense; I get the feeling he cared about Shepard as much as she cared about him. "Go keep Shepard company, I'll handle our new guest."
The Turian nodded gratefully, hurrying after her. Heh, that's the kind of friendship that lasts a lifetime. Well it did, seeing as Shepard died, apparently.
Eh.
Zaeed was grumbling as he went, heading for the armory. Right, he was returning that launcher.
I sighed, shaking my head as I pulled the shaved girl(Heh, quite giggling you perverts) in the direction of Mordin's lab. She was silently grumbling the entire time, reflexively hunching her shoulders against my grip. Going through the two doors into the lab, I found the Salarian still working. Does he ever sleep?
...Probably not.
Anyway. I pulled the girl up and to a stop, calling, "Hey, Mordin. Mind making sure Jack here isn't dying?"
He turned, approaching as he answered. "Certainly, certainly. Remain still, please." He did the same thing to her that he had to me; waved his omni-tool over her a few times, checked the results and made a prognosis. "Hm, interesting. No immediate health concerns to report."
"Thanks, mate. C'mon, princess." I pulled the angry girl along as she practically vibrated with anger.
Through the door and then the next, into the conference room. I could think of no better place to keep her until Shepard's up and about, aside from the airlock.
Once in and the door was shut, I released the girl. Jack dashed away from me, dropping into a crouch. I was unconcerned; biotic or not, she was unarmed and I'm a master of close quarter combat. It's not like I couldn't strangle the bitch in my sleep.
I looked up, searching for a camera. "EDI, please seal the room until Commander Shepard is available."
"As you wish, Blade."
Huh. I was halfway expecting the AI to say no, but okay. That works.
"Blade? The hell, that's too badass-sounding to be the name of some chump like you."
I looked back to Jack, who was(Still) glaring at me even harder from the other side of the conference table. Shrugging, I leaned against the nearby guardrail, getting comfortable. Might be here awhile.(I didn't bother dignifying that jibe with a response, by the way)
. . .
"You just gonna sit there and stare at me?" She asked, now glowering. Guess she's not the patient type, either.
I shrugged. "Not much else to do, unless you'd care for a game of charades?"
Eheh, the dumbass look on her face was rather amusing, too. "The fuck are charades?"
Oh right, ancient human over here. "It's a game where someone silently acts out a scene, and the audience has to guess who or what they're trying to be."
"...Who the hell came up with that?"
Again, I shrugged. "Dunno. It was an old game back in my time, though now it's probably ancient and obscure, if not outright forgotten."
Now her expression finally changed, into puzzled/perplexed. "Back in your time? The fuck, you don't sound that old."
Ooh, story time. Yay! "I am one hundred and seventy-four years old. A hundred and fifty years back, they put me in cryogenic stasis. I woke up three days ago and somehow managed to get myself wrapped up in Shepard's crusade to stop a race called the 'Collectors' from abducting human colonists in the Terminus systems."(Jacob explained it to me in terms that I could easily understand, all without sounding condescending. What a nice guy)
Jack was silent.
Well, for a short while. "Then why the hell are you wearing Cerberus colors? And on a Cerberus ship?"
"Not sure, to be honest. I was housed in a Cerberus facilty, and woke up wearing the armor. Just haven't had a chance to repaint it. Been meaning to do that, too. I was never recruited by the organization, but by Shepard herself. As to the ship... All I've been told is that Shepard died two years ago and Cerberus spent a fortune bringing her back to life to fight the Collectors. Gave her a ship and a crew, to boot. I know fuck-all about any of it, I just follow Shepard's orders."
Her eyes narrowed. "If you don't know anything about it, then why're you helping them?"
"Why not? Ain't like I've got anywhere else to go. No home, no family, and no country. Killing's all I know; at this point, one fight is as good as any other."
"...Do you even know what Cerberus is?"
I nodded. "Human-centric terrorist organisation; 'The ends justify the means' is their motto. I could care less about them, they've fucked me over as much as the bastards who stuck me in that damned tube. But I fight for Shepard, not the Illusive Man."
Jack shook her head, pacing back and forth. "Tch, if you're some badass soldier, you could easily find work on Omega, might even hit it big with some rich mafia-type. So why? Why work for Shepard?" Her voice was strange; it didn't set off alarm bells, but nor was it compelling like Shepard's.
"Hmm... Strange question. She gives me purpose, I suppose. Without purpose, I'm nothing more than a killing machine, wandering battlefields until my luck finally runs out. I'm not all that interested in money, never have been, or I would've working private sector instead of the military. I guess helping colonists being abducted by aliens is as good a reason to fight as I've yet found. Still wanna keep playing twenty-one questions?"
Her eyes narrowed once more. "How come you haven't asked me anything? Everyone else I've run into can't go five minutes without staring at my tits or my tats and asking stupid questions."
Shrugging,(Again. I find myself doing that a lot, lately) I responded, "Could care less. You didn't volunteer anything, so I didn't ask. What you've done with your life is your business, not mine." I get the feeling she's a bit tight-lipped about her life anyway.
After that, nearly an hour passed. She was quiet in that time, and I didn't bother making conversation.
I looked to the hologram projector. "EDI, you have a status update on the Commander?"
EDI's holographic avatar appeared instantaneously. "Yes. Doctor chakwas has just finished surgery; Shepard is currently asleep and confined to bedrest for the next eight hours." I sighed.
"Great. I'm assuming she's alright, then?" That had been bugging me the entire time, itching away in the back of my mind.
"Yes. Shall I unseal the room, Blade?" Her query got Jack's immediate attention, full on me.
Lovely. Looking back at Jack, I asked, "Can you promise me you won't attack anyone or start any fights, Jack?"
"I won't 'start' any, but I'll damn well finish them."
Eh, close enough. I looked back to EDI's terminal. "Very well. If you please, EDI."
The door behind me unlatched and I turned, beckoning the tattooed woman to follow me. I didn't bother looking back; I knew she'd be right on my heels.
Through the door, then the lab, back into CIC. Jack was right behind me the entire time, glaring back at anyone who stared at her. Heh, I kinda liked that part of her. Proud, determined to be herself despite what others think.
Anywho. We passed by Kelly Chambers, who discreetly gulped and busied herself at her console, trying to look inconspicuous. I get the feeling that she's just a wee bit afraid of Jack.
Or me.
I went into the elevator, turning and hitting the button for deck 3 just as baldilocks walked in. Doors shut, it started to descend.
"Hey Blade, or whatever you name is." Jack asked, to my left.
"Yes?" I turned, to look at h-
*FWUMPK-CRACK!*
. . .
"AGH! SON OF A BITCH!" She cursed, shaking her hand out.
I chuckled, having barely felt that punch, but I'm willing to bet she did.(Made me look straight ahead when I'd been turning to look at her, but that's about it. Didn't hurt, just forced me to look a different direction for a second) "Remember, dearie, this hurts me more than it hurts you." I mocked, chuckling.
"Fuck you." I couldn't help laughing at that.
"How eloquent. You've gotta admit, you had that coming when you decided to punch me in the mouth while I'm wearing a full helmet."
"Again, fuck you."
I just chuckled louder.
~~Badadumdunbum~~
On deck 3, I stepped off, heading to my right, around the elevator shaft with Jack on my heels, still shaking her bruised knuckles. We went past several staring crewmen, heading over to Sergeant Gardner, who was manning the kitchen. "Hey, Sarge. You got time for two more?"
He looked up, caught sight of us, and sighed. "Yeah, lemme just fire up the range."
Jack sat at one of the stools, glaring the staring crewmen into submission. It was amusing, to say the least.
As the cookie worked, I said, "She's a biotic, by the way. Set her up with the same portions I eat." Jacob told me that biotics need to eat a lot, and that means about as much as I do. Which is a lot. As in, I eat more than Jacob does, and man can he eat!
Gardner stopped, then cursed. "Great, that just doubled the time I need to spend cooking. Thanks for that."
I shrugged. "Sorry. Say, when the hell did they start serving fried shit? The MREs I had way back weren't the best, but they were a damn sight better than the crap they're giving you now, Sarge."
He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "I don't fucking know anymore. Twenty years back, military rations weren't too bad. Edible, at least. Then they switched to this cheaper, high-calorie vat-grown crap for the bioitics. Bleugh, fried shit is about right. I asked the Commander about ordering some better provisions, but they haven't come in yet. I'd give it another few days of this shit before we'll have ourselves a real meal."
He was shaking his head again as he cooked, fixing up a fuckton of food caked with strong spices to drown out the taste of shit.
"Well, cap'n, you're the only person on this can I trust to turn the stuff into something resembling food." I was smiling, even if the effort was wasted. He got my meaning.
"Hah! Thanks for your confidence in my abilities. Say miss, you've been awfully quiet. Not the talkative type, eh?" Ah, there he goes. This should be good.
"No, I'm more of the silent, murdering type." She responded, completely deadpan.
Gardner paused for a moment. "Well, so long as you're not the silent-but-deadly type, I'm happy. And hey, drink plenty of water with this stuff, or you won't shit for a week." He called back, still working for another few moments, before busying himself piling food on a pair of trays.
He gracefully(For a forty or fifty-something year old man) turned and laid the trays out in front of us with a flourish, dusting his hands off as he started on washing the dishes he'd dirtied.
I picked up mine, turned, and was about to walk away when I remembered Jack. "You want to eat here, or somewhere secluded?" I asked, being polite, at least.
Without missing a beat, she looked over to the few crewmen who quickly looked away from her, then back to me. "Yeah, someplace where I won't be stared at would be nice." She joined me as I walked back to the elevator and took it down to engineering.
Off the elevator, I moved to the left on instinct, through the next door and down the stairs, into the hold. I noticed Jack's steps falter for a moment, before picking back up to normal tempo.
Strange. Is she afraid of the dark, or something? Eh.
Down in the hold, I took a seat on the rack, placing the tray on my lap. Jack hesitated for a moment. "What is it?" I asked, looking to where she stood.
"...Nothing." She moved past me, sitting in the chair and setting her tray on the workbench, digging into it.
Whatever.
I unsealed my helmet, removing and setting it beside me, cracking my neck and running a hand through my buzzcut.
Sometimes I wonder... Have 150 years really passed? Or am I dreaming? Or maybe I'm dead. I don't know, anymore.
Sighing, I put that aside and started eating. Eugh, still nasty-tasting, but the extra spices help.
'Just get it down your neck, Marine.'
Can't remember where I heard that before, but it helps. I ate quickly, like I always do, then set the tray aside. Jack belched loudly, sitting back in the chair. "Eh... S'better than prison food."
I shook my head. Man, if this girl can eat this crap, there's nothing she can't eat.
She turned, looking at me. "Huh."
"What?" I asked, looking back at her.
"You're not bad looking. I was expecting you to be some kinda fuck-ugly motherfucker, the way you kept your helmet on so long."
Shrugging, I explained, "I prefer to keep it on. Another layer between my head and a bullet, y'know? Besides, the entire armorsuit has a rough cost of some twelve and a half billion credits, probably more, and a good chunk of it went into the helmet design and construction. Most of the systems are routed through it, everything from heads-up display to communications and navigation. You'd be amazed at how useful a motion sensor and IFF system are in low-light situations. Beyond that? Heh, most of the modern helmet systems apparently don't have nightvision or thermal. Mine has both."
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You like your gadgets, don't you?"
"Hell, yes. Compared to the shit they've got now, me and my own were throwing rocks at each other. See this rifle?" I pulled my Avenger from my back, setting the butt on the floor. "The M8 roughly has the punch of an old thirty aught-six, with the recoil of a 5.56mm round. It's accurate out to 1200 metres and has an effective range of zero-to-800. My old M4 carbine was a five fifty-six, which had a maximum range of 500 metres. Its effective range was around 180, maybe 250 with good optics. And that's before you put all the fancy new gadgets into play. A scope that automatically identifies targets, doesn't need to be sighted in and adjusts for ranges from point-blank to more than a kilometre away. Then you've got the smart targeting that adjusts for all enviornments and enemy defenses, even. Goddamn, it does everything but wipe your ass for you. Wait, fuck that, I think you can attatch a roll of toiletpaper to it."
Jack snickered, amused by my antics. "You supposed to be a soldier, or a comedian?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I can't be both?"
"Well, now I know why Shepard took you along. Comic relief."
Chuckling at that, I replied, "We've all got our uses, some more than others."
~~Badadumdunbum~~
"The only good bureaucrat is one with a pistol at his head. Put it in his hand and it's good-bye to the Bill of Rights." -American author, H. L. Mencken (1880-1956)
~~Badadumdunbum~~
"Gun control: The theory that a woman found dead in an alley, raped and strangled with her pantyhose, is somehow morally superior to a woman explaining to police how her attacker got that fatal bullet wound." — L. Neil Smith
