Chapter 8: A Hive of Lights and Blood

The streets of Tizca were remarkably easy to navigate; along with their perfect design, permitting one to see the ocean as much as possible. The great pyramids' refection of the sky at times made them seemingly non-existent unless one was looking for them. Mortals continued their daily tasks, going to and fro businesses and the occasional manufacturer of products rarely, if ever seen off of Prospero. Enlightened lives for an enlightened people.

"Brother!" Herumon yelled to grab my attention. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise Khaldun. It is good to walk here once more…"

"After that sham." Herumon interrupted. Word of Nikea was on everyone's mind. 'The Sham of Nikea' perhaps that is what our history will remember it as.

"I do not disagree with that." I said

"Next they shall have it so we can't eat, or drink." Herumon laughed at his weak jest. "If they have it so the Wolves can no longer have their damnable pets, and their own weapons; they will know only a fragment of what we face." This even made me laugh slightly. I never truly despised the Wolves before this; and I don't doubt they shall keep Rune-Priests behind our backs. Yet Nikea made me distrust, and in some ways despise both them and the Death Guard.

Yet he was also wrong; nothing could compare to our choir of arcane might. We were not simple savages like many other legions, we were beyond their simple comprehension. To ask us not to master sorcery, was to ask us not to breath. I chose not to remind him of this.

I breathed in the rich Prosperan air, and how have I missed it. "How are the rest of our brothers handling it?" I asked.

"Nakanus, and Isador are the most livid of this. Khenti, and Terranis are attempting to keep spirits up. Laudren has been silent, secluding himself to work on the Canis Vertex along with many others in sixth fellowship." He reported.

My curiosity peaked at this. "It's odd that they're working on the titan that much. Normally it's simple maintenance and the like."

Herumon simply shrugged. "Perhaps that's how they cope. Until Magnus decrees something, we must follow the Emperor's own decree; shameful as it may be." We were silent for a moment. "I never asked, what was Ullanor like? I heard it was the most glorious of sights."

I looked towards the ocean. "It was beautiful brother. To see the might of humanity on display…" I was temporally lost, simply being one to represent one of our legion was perhaps the greatest honor of my life; only for that honor to be spat on at Nikea.

Herumon laughed. "Perhaps I shall let you relive that memory till you collapse in the street. You would become a true legend in the legion; 'The Sekhmet who fell in front of mortals, not in battle, but in a dream!'" I laughed at his jest.

"I've fought since Terra itself! I'm certain I would become a legend in every legion if that happened! Perhaps the Emperor himself will notice!" We continued laughing as we made our way through the streets.

We stopped laughing as we heard the mortals now speaking of Nikea. Perhaps Nikea would not simply affect us as a legion, but the people of the world. Psychic power was almost the only source of civilization on Prospero. "I truly hope this is temporary." I muttered.

"Most likely, after all the Imperium can't function without us." Herumon's reassurances set a tiny fragment of my mind at ease.

"I feel as if something horrible is going to happen. No, something colossal in scale."

Herumon shook his head. "I'm not one to argue with a Corvidae, but I should remind you; you have been wrong before."

We were silent as we arrived to the center of Tizca. Like the rest of the city it was more than simply pleasing, it was beautiful. The various shops and establishments were frequently visited not only by the many visitors of this world, but the occasional legionnaire as well. "Come brother, how long has it been since you've eaten Prosperan food, or drank her wine?" Herumon asked jokingly.

"You are aware we stock those onto our ships. But it has still felt for far too long." I responded. "Yet again you would have forgotten seeing how rarely you leave Prospero these days!" I teased him, earning me a slight chuckle from my friend.

"Our brothers will be joining us soon." Herumon stated; I nodded, happy to see my non-Sekhmet brothers once more.


It was eerily silent for this night cycle; most nights had the occasional group who ends up rather boisterous, but now the third deck was that of utter silence. "Goddamn this hurts." Shepard turned around to see Jack, now on crutches. "Fucking assholes."

"Good to see you up at least." Shepard said.

She scoffed at his words. "Yeah, and no one will tell me how long I'll be crippled. Go figure. I'm going back to my little hole, and I swear to god if anyone tries to stop me."

It was difficult not to laugh internally at how even in her state, at how she's still the same person. Just when he was about to leave he saw the three Skitarii leave the elevator with Grunt, who nodded to him as they walked to the med-bay. Choosing instead to watch them, he sat back down at the mess table. The Tribune, and Peltast held the shoulders of the Krogan as the Ranger prepped a series of tools and a robotic limb that was similar to their own. With little preparation, the Ranger cut open Grunt's arm stump causing him to roar in pain. Shepard sprinted over to the door, only to see it locked; he could on helplessly listen to the Krogan's roars. She placed the cybernetic arm at the base of the stump, and connected fine wires to his nerve endings. He continued to roar, but either thankfully or horribly his biology refused to allow him to fall unconscious for such 'minor' agony. He fought against his restrainers, gaining no headway against them. "Almost, foul xeno." The Ranger said without any concern or compassion. In fact it sounded more like she was enjoying playing with the Krogan's nerves in painful ways. The arm balled into a fist, and attempted to swing against the Ranger. "We're done." Upon saying this, the Tribune used his Maul to render the Krogan finally unconscious. She sealed the incision with sutures.

They left the Krogan on the table. "Hey!" Shepard called out, stopping the elevator before it closed. "What the hell was that about?"

"Our orders." They spoke in unison, with their varying tones making it a cacophony of noise. "The xeno can now go into battle once more." The elevator door sealed; marking their last task complete.


It was now almost strange without EDI, despite having no love for the machine; it broke the monotony of being alone in the cockpit. A series of whirls and clanks was heard behind him, he silently glanced at the Techpriest. Oxian's prying gaze analyzed each of the holographic consoles, before staring out into the void of space. He was seemingly stuck in thought for the next five minutes before turning to Joker. "It's odd in its silence." He said cryptically. "No hum of a Gellar field, no roar of plasma engines, and no creeks of the stalking metal. How do you work in such conditions?"

Joker swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. "It's always quiet, other than EDI awhile back-"

"This 'VI'" Oxian interrupted. "Why have it in the first place? Would other personnel serving under you be too difficult?"

He wished he could hit himself for blurting out about EDI, but at least the Techpriest believed it was a VI. "Yeah, other people just get in my way. It's easier without someone always saying 'Adjust heading by' all the time. I know the Normandy, she's like a nice set of legs for me."

Oxian looked at the pilot, before laughing at the simple idea to merge him with the ship. "Are you ok?" Joker asked, unsettled by his cackling.

The cackling slowly ceased. "Yes, I'm fine, just an idea I had." Joker's worried expression never changed. While with the Astartes you could guess they would just kill you from their lenses; with the Techpriest, it looked more as if he would experiment on you in an increasingly sadistic fashion. "How much longer until we arrive?"

"Six hours, if I know Illium we'll land in the major trading district; so it will most likely be midday-ish." Oxian nodded, despite the unneeded data, it gave him time to plan their final preparations. "Hey, gotta ask; what did you do to the engines? The Normandy's been running smoother."

"'Something impossible'" He simply quoted the Quarian as he left, leaving the pilot alone once more in the silence.


Tali had hastily created a makeshift desk out of a couple of crates near the engine; carefully turning page after page, reading each line, and taking in the almost primitive in style sketches and diagrams. It was one of the most intriguing and frustrating moments of her life. Despite the time that was forced upon her; every line, every quote, and every diagram was in some ways 'beautiful'. The simple idea of the 'machine spirit' would be absurd, but yet it was just a half metaphor for the wellbeing of a piece of equipment; yet at the same time it was also a reality. From temperamental 'titans' to humble spirits within a rifle. It was an endless philosophy that has been tested for far over 15,000 years. Yet that raised another question; why would they address dates such as '805.M30: Treaty of Olympus.'? While it's obvious that it means 30,805 in human dating; but that simply can't be right, the Asari discovered the citadel only 2,765 years ago. There's no reference to Protheans, or any race for that matter. Perhaps it was a simple inconsistency, or perhaps something far greater. "'Understanding is the True Path to Comprehension', and 'Comprehension is the key to all things.'" Tali muttered to herself, quoting two of the commandments to express her frustration. Her Omni-tool blinked to show how much time had already ticked down; eight hours left, and she still had not even begun on the latter half of what was required. Her vision continued to narrow and darken as the timer continued to slowly tick down.


The Rubric Marines took their new weapons, and in the eyes of the Skitarii who presented the Heavy Stubbers to them; they took them with a sense of disgrace. A bolter is more than a mighty weapon, it's a symbol; a sign of humanities might, resourcefulness, and tenacity. And any weapon wielded by a Thousand Son was a beautifully crafted relic. Taking great care to ensure not a single blemish appears on their watch, they placed them into specifically cleaned crates; each weapon had its' own, and was stored with its' ammunition. To the Sorcerer it was an amusing sight. To see the care associated with loyalists, being used on 'traitors.' "Oxian, how much long till we arrive?"

He turned to his lord before speaking with a bow. "An hour, my lord. The crew should be awakening shortly." He reported.

With a nod he spoke once more. "With your report, and the data on what this world is. I don't trust the lambs whom reside on that rock."

"Without a doubt, my lord." Oxian spoke out. "The cowardly xenos will quake at the simple sight of us." He turned to his Skitarii, still diligent with their work. "Shamefully unlike the creatures aboard this vessel." He added with a mutter.

It was heard clearly by the Outcast, much to Oxian's intent. "Do you think I enjoy these fools any more than you?" He spoke with a sigh. "Do you think I would rather be with my pupils, my brothers, Lord Ahriman? Do you honestly think I wouldn't sacrifice them all to return? We're stuck here, best we can do is adapt. And right now, Shepard and the souls on this ship, are our only potential predictable allies."

"But the xenos? None of them are of any concern-"

"They're one in the same! Even than the xenos have proved to be worthy pawns!" He snapped, a small surge of psychic energy caused the air to grow deathly cold as the fabric of reality nearly split. He straightened himself, and spoke far more calmly. "Fear not my friend. All I ask is for your patience. Everything will fall before us; you'll see, have faith. When have I ever led you astray?"

Oxian almost scoffed at his master's words. "That you are correct about, my lord. Personally however; your assurances leave me cold."

"We have a new 'ally', untrustworthy of course, but an ally none the less. If needed, he's more than eager to betray Shepard. Hence why Shepard is our 'predictable' ally; him and his xenos. Yet this 'Illusive Man' is far too eager to side with us, even close friends to the legion are not that swift to side with us. He's guided by another motive, and I intend to find out what that is."

"Are you referring to your pact with the world of Cyrene when you mention 'friends of the legion'?"

"How did you…" The Sorcerer stammered with his words.

Oxian looked at his lord, extending himself too nearly over the height of a Terminator. "Apologies, lord. Documents are scarce, I assumed-"

He looked up into Oxian's lenses. "It was my overextension that lead to that; I will speak nothing more on this. And you will not mention of this again."

Oxian didn't lower himself. "Of course; regardless, this doesn't change the fact that we must soon act. Lest we condemn ourselves to a single course."

"No, we simply don't have enough information. And now the Ocean is shifting even as we speak, a tempest gathers, and we are blind. Yet we're going to a hive world that may have fallen into disarray, perhaps even Chaos." Speculation was amidst their ranks; Oxian had ordered his Tribune to monitor every communication from and to Miranda, and yet they've learnt nothing. Being blind was one thing that was uncharacteristic of the Thousand Sons, and now they face a new foe on an alien world. "All we can do now is play our parts; and hope we do not fail." The Sorcerer sighed, as the sound of treads ground against the steel floor.


Illium's structures provided little cover to the police force as they were ambushed by humans wearing an odd blood red armor. The loud bark of their rifles tore through what little armor they had as if it was nothing. By the time they turned their weapons toward their aggressors they faced their pale fleshed foes, already storming their position. Shocks, which should have been more than capable to drop a drunk Krogan, sent via their Omni-tools did little but cause them to smile in absolute bliss. They skewered, and gutted the Asari; relishing every single drop of blood they shed.

One officer attempted to crawl away. She screamed into her radio for any possible help. A boot stamped down onto her leg, causing her to yelp in sheer agony. Her assailant wore what seemed to be a comedy mask, barely hiding his ecstatic grin and psychotic red eyes. He brought his bloody bayonet up, ready to stab over and over until she was nothing but a pulp. What little energy she had left was used to push him away with a wave of biotic might. He was forced back into his comrades, who merely laughed as they were knocked down like a stack of cards. Every one of the humans turned their gaze unto her, like some Varren pack to a wounded herbivore. They drew what seemed to be more ceremonial, rusted blades.

A giant crimson beast pushed past them, nearly throwing one off the Illium skyscraper. It was like a god, its' emerald lenses looked at her judgingly. It raised an axe that bellowed black smoke as it roared, it's spinning blades forever hungry. It was a god, just like the old Asari legends; a true god of death. Her world faded with the rending of her skull, and the laughter of the madmen.


"We're making our final approach, commander." Joker said to Shepard, the Astartes had already gathered near the airlock. The Skitarii forming a vanguard, supported by two of the crew carrying a heavy machine gun. Shepard hoped to himself that they're only acting this way due to Miranda's report, for this would be a PR hell if they did this at the citadel.

Rubric Marines had their weapons held as if it was a parade; shouldered, and holding the butt of the weapon. Long ammo belts were already loaded, and their magazines held on magnetically at their belts. It was like an old recruitment commercial; heavily armed and armored soldiers waiting for battle, only that they're human features are almost completely removed. Leaving lifeless automatons in their place. "Commander." The Outcast called out, his energy pistol already drawn, its' vents glowing a shade of orange. "Get your entire team ready."

It was odd that he would ask for everyone now. "Why? Surly it would be better with just us until we're certain about the situation?" He asked in response. "Merely a suggestion of course." He added in order to not push his luck with the Sorcerer.

The Astartes looked up, as if breathing in some scent. "Can you not feel it?" He spoke cryptically.

"Feel what exactly?"

"The Ocean, it is alive here. Can you not hear their voices? The voices of those dead and dying as we speak, the scent of blood with it?" It was unsettling how he spoke; his normal, almost furious voice, was replaced by a sonorous calm one only describable as a wine. "Of course you don't. You don't know this fine feeling. To feel absolute power once more." He produced a slight laugh. "The winds of magic flow again, Shepard."

His cryptic answer didn't help at all, but it was still somewhat unsettling. "I'll gather up my team." He responded, activating his Omni-tool and sending a ping to everyone but Jack.

It wasn't long before they were all lounging about, almost a stark contrast the rigid ranks on the other side of the narrow corridor. "Where's Tali?" Shepard asked his team after taking a headcount of those present.

Upon asking this, the Techpriest turned towards him. He let out a disgruntled sigh, not making it clear whom he was disappointed towards. "Engineering I think." Zaeed responded gruffly. Shepard swiftly left, exchanging a glance with the unflinching Astartes ranks.

"Disappointing." Oxian spoke to his lord over their newly established vox link. "I had a slight hope for the xeno. Yet I gave its failure chance a 90%." What audibly emitted from the Techpriest was a series of clicks as the transmission began and ended.

"I'm simply shocked you gave the xeno a chance in the first place." His lord responded.

Indeed, Tali was near her station, still fast asleep. "What do we have here?" Shepard jokingly asked, hoping that it might have roused her from her sleep. It didn't; upon approaching her, he noticed the thick leather book resting open nearby.

The page was mostly occupied by a form of the Vitruvian Man. Instead it was half machine, its left arms and legs being replaced seemingly by clockwork. 'At least I wasn't that bad' He poorly joked to himself.

He shook Tali's arm, causing her to groan like a child. "No, no." She began to mutter. "You don't understand. Everything organic is basically machinery. Tendons instead of pistons; flesh in place of steel; and blood is like a coolant. Denying it is just simple idiocy." Shepard almost froze at this, to think that Tali of all people would become one of those monstrosities. It was disheartening; no, it was terrifying.

"Come on, we're arriving at Illium soon." Shepard stated as her glowing eyes slowly opened behind the mask. She clumsily grabbed the book, and began to stagger out; muttering incomprehensible references to machinery. As the second door automatically opened, leaving him alone in the control room, he slammed his fist against a wall. Furious about the corruption they're spreading amongst his friends.


"ECMs are flaring up! Why the hell are they targeting us?!" Joker yelled, causing the Techpriest to move into the cockpit to analyze the situation more thoroughly. "This is the SSV Normandy, do not fire! I say again, do not fire! We're friendly for fucks sake!" He spoke into the radio transmitter. "What the fuck's going on?"

With an extension of his many mechadendrites, Oxian accessed the Normandy's innumerable complex systems. The machine's roar became a choir once again, as the human mind assisted the machine spirits in their task. Anti-ship weapons systems lost their target as the countermeasures went to work with increased efficiency. The Normandy would have taken a minute to be locked onto regardless, but now it was completely invisible to the automated defenses. The transmitter activated, showing the face of a uniformed Asari officer "SSV Normandy, this is Illium control. No idea how you got this far, but I shouldn't be complaining. Sending coordnates for a landing port in Nos Astra, just…" Yelling could be heard, shortly afterwards a volley of gunfire and explosions joined the chaos. "Land as soon as possible, we need-" The transmission was prematurely cut off.

"Time until landing?" The Outcast calmly asked, a contrast to the concern shown on most of Shepard's team.

"A minute." Joker responded, focused solely on flying the Normandy to insure they don't take any fire. In perfect synchronization, the Astartes grabbed their weapons bipods and prepared them at the hip. Their ammo belts were set alight in a cold, green flame. Plasma Calivers were loaded, their blue coils began to glow furiously as the Skitarii aimed them at the door.

The Normandy shook as the docking clamps extended and locked. Shepard arrived behind Tali. Then the door slid open, revealing an armored humanoid. The Skitarii pushed forward, tackling the individual and aiming their calivers forward as if clearing a room. Shepard was about to try to defuse the situation, only to be pushed aside by the Astartes surging forward through the breach.

Asari officers readied their weapons, only to drop them in sheer awe of the stalwart Rubricae. The Peltast shoved the tackled Asari toward their awe stricken ranks. Shepard moved past them once ranks had been formed, and now stood between the two parties.


The creatures that opposed us were, vile, to put it lightly. Asari appeared to be far more disgusting in person than any image I've seen. "Everyone let's just calm down." Shepard spoke, now standing in the firing line. I bit my tongue; oh how I wished to slaughter these disgusting beasts.

Warp fire grew in my hand; with no pain, or even effort in fact. A few of the Asari had dropped their weapons, and knelt before us. I had assumed that this was their way of expressing to have mercy, but yet there was little fear in their empty minds; only hope. "Disgusting." I spoke into the vox.

Oxian joined us behind Shepard's team. "I'm glad we agree on that. My Skitarii await your orders." He reported.

Psychically, I ordered my Rubricae to lower their weapons. The action was mimicked by the xenos, and permitted Shepard a sigh of relief. "How..." An Asari stammered with its words. "How did you get past the bastion's defensive grid?" It asked.

"I'll answer only once we know what's going on." Shepard asked, calmly as not to aggravate our xeno 'hosts'.

The xeno captain gestured for us to follow. "I'll explain at our command post. Stay close, and avoid contact with the civilians. I can't say how eager they are to leave enough." I noticed that less than half of the assembled xenos faced us, but most faced the people of the wretched hive. This was to be expected; when a hive falls, the mortals within become the greatest threat.

With an animalistic roar, a Krogan pushed past the enforcer line; the lack of armor made the creature seem far less 'impressive' than a specimen such as Grunt. Without being ordered, Peltast-12 raised his caliver and fired a shot. Melting its hide, and reducing its bone to ash before a mortal could blink. "Oxian, have your Skitarii fortify the ship. No one will cross that line alive." I ordered. With a noospheric command, the Ranger and Peltast took command. They ordered the mortal crew to grab crates to build makeshift barricades, and positions for heavy stubbers. We moved forward, and the enforcers parted the crowd. Much to my pleasure, a Salarian used the opportunity to make an advance toward the Normandy. The xeno must not have seen what happened to the Krogan, but before the Skitarii could act our Krogan proved himself. His new cybernetic arm grabbed the cowardly xeno by the neck, and hurled him back. Though either accidently or intentionally; he threw the xeno into the back wall, shattering its spine. I had to contain an urge to merely laugh, and simply nodded at the quick and desired action. Shepard and his team stopped, and stared at Grunt; who all the while was smiling at his new prosthetic, the metal limb being reshaped to be similar to that of a Krogan. Much to the dismay of my Mechanicum allies.

"What the hell Grunt?" Shepard pushed past Garrus, grabbing the Krogan by the shoulders. It was clear it was merely to stop him; as if Shepard tried anything he would get himself killed.

"What?" He shrugged, once again amusing me. It was odd to see that of all the xenos, Grunt is showing to be the most useful and moldable; almost like a misguided Wolf.

Reaching out, I grabbed Shepard's right arm. "Now is not the time; and besides, he performed what was required of him." Shepard snarled slightly; if it were anymore, I would not have hesitated of throwing him off this hive spire.

"Shepard…" Garrus spoke up, causing Shepard to restrain himself. It was clear that his mindset, and morals were clouded; he wanted to lash out and try to kill me, but he's a soldier in his entirety. A situation I'm feeling now, especially with the surrounding whores of xenos.

Releasing him, he turned back to the officer and continued following it. An automatic door opened, showing a large open 'plaza' on top of the spires. It showed a far more impressive view of the hive, yet again I'm uncertain if this classifies as a hive. The structures glistened for kilometers in the sun. Spires stood tall, but not in the fashion of hives; with the largest tower acting as a 'spine', that the structures only grow smaller outwardly. What xenos did not gather at the Normandy merely acted as if nothing was happening. Exchanging rumors, even trade deals, and the occasional shocked glance at us.

Disgustingly, it seemed every xeno race was present on this world. A squatted suited xeno, large bovine like xenos, hideous xenos with razor sharp teeth and immolated flesh, amoeba like creatures that glowed various colors, by the Ocean so many. How they've lasted this long together is a curiosity in itself. Another door opened, showing two white constructs; similar to the geth, but far more humanoid. A red zero forming their 'face'. Oxian was immediately fixated on them, probing them like some primitive doctor with his servo arms. "Is something wrong with your robot?" The officer arrogantly asked.

"Watch your tongue xeno." The Tribune flared up, standing at his Techpriest's side. "You dare insult an honored Techpriest of the Thousand Sons." He continued speaking in monotone, pushing the activation rune on his arc maul.

Flaring blue, the Asari pointed its' human like finger at the Tribune. "Listen, I've dealt with worse people than you when I'm in a good mood! And I'm not in a good mood, I've lost eight fucking people in the last thirty minutes! So how about you fuck off with that shit! Go ahead, make my day!" The aura around the xeno prompted the Tribune to draw his arc pistol in a single swift action.

Balling its' hand into a fist it prepared a biotic assault. "Enough!" I yelled, raising my hand and turning the xeno into a puppet. A string of psychic energy connected to each of my fingers, a simple movement to rend each limb from its torso. It hovered above the ground, feeling the eldritch energy wrapping around it. "I will not permit you to threaten my followers! Luckily for you I'm forgiving enough to forget this slight, for now." I stared into its terrified eyes, unable to grasp the pain I could eagerly inflict upon it. Released, it gasped for air. Jacob, and Garrus rushed over to help her up. Their expressions showed a sense of fear, even though I've read that biotics can do the same; just far weaker.

"What's the meaning of this? My assistant-" Another Asari exited the door, its eyes darkened and tone showing stress. "My assistant… By the goddess." It sprinted and embraced Shepard, the reaction permitted me to know what xeno this was; Shepard's little whore.

"Liara!" Shepard exclaimed, overjoyed to see his pet xeno again.

"Good to see you again, Liara." Garrus added.

"Tali'Zorah." Oxian called out before she could speak. "Assist me in this matter." His lascutters began to make a precise way into the machine's chest. "The main core of this automaton will be useful in future projects."

The Quarian turned between the two parties. "Good to see you Tali." Liara said, causing Tali to nod and proceed to Oxian. The Asari faced me before muttering. "Extraordinary." And turning back to Shepard. "Could you follow me to my office?"

Shepard nodded, and gestured for Garrus to follow. "Is that wise?" I asked. "We should learn the situation, before we follow your… Desires." My statement earning a snicker from Zaeed.

Before Shepard could object, Liara spoke. "I could give you a more in depth view than the Lieutenant here." I would have been lying to myself if I said I wasn't happily surprised at Liara; while still loathing the creature of course.

"See what you can gather, we'll brief everyone in a bit." Shepard spoke to everyone in his team but Garrus. An illogical action once again, it was clear he wanted to spend time with the xeno. Yet they nodded and dispersed. I stood resolute with my Rubricae, staring out at the Illium cityscape. I knew I was being observed; but by what, I could not say.


The target was eleven kilometers away; an easy shot, but the Sorcerer could perform an endless list of actions to stop the round. Even if he wanted the round to make contact, it was not a going to be certain penetration. Never turning his sight from the target, he adjusted his cloak. Another explosion rocked the building. Marking another trap gone before the building would be overrun. He looked down at the sieging xenos. Deducing the officer amongst them, a Turian wearing blue armor. A single shot was fired, exploding the upper torso of the xeno; the blue viscera caused multiple of its followers to flee. Looking at the Sorcerer again, he noticed that one Rubric Marine looked directly at his position.


Liara took a seat at her desk. "I'm glad you're here, but what are you doing here? This isn't exactly the best of times."

"We were here to recruit a couple more for our team, but it seems there's more pressing matters now." Shepard stated.

Placing her head in her hands with a sigh, gathering her thoughts on this situation. "Three days, that's all it took. Originally it was a food riot, than mercenaries fighting one another in the streets, and now Illium's defense grid. The Normandy is the first ship to land in two days, and in those two days we've been cut off."

"Cut off?" Garrus asked.

"Illium's food reserves are in government facilities, in the middle city. We no longer own those. The police force, contractors, and the like are all that stands between us and the madmen in the undercity. We're going to start to starve before long, and collapse from within." Liara explained the situation.

"How many zones are still secured?" Shepard's voice was filled with concern, nothing like this was normal.

"Thirteen, all are constantly under attack."

They were silent for a moment. Shepard stood up and looked at the Astartes, and Techpriest. They were unfazed as they looked out, perhaps even eager to go down there. "How can we help?" Shepard asked.

"You can't consider-"

Liara was cut off by Shepard. "We have enough firepower to do what it takes."

"You don't understand." Liara began. "Anyone who goes down there is not the same. Some of my informants have gone from emotionally dull, to insane."

"And if we don't go and do something, everyone dies!"

"Perhaps they know something about this." Garrus suggested. "After all, this seems to be their field of expertise."

Liara swiveled her chair to look at the gathered Legionaries. "Perhaps, it's just that… Do you know what you're traveling with, Shepard?"


Tali took the core with exceptional care, muttering a small prayer to the LOKI mech. "What the hell are you doing?" An armored human in yellow armor stepped forward, hand placed on a carnifex pistol. "Do you know how important those things are? Fucking idiot! Hey, I'm talking to you!" His words directed toward the Techpriest.

"Silence, you fool. This is a delicate process, and you are not helping." Oxian dismissively responded.

The human turned to Tali, reaching for the mech's core. "Give that to me, you scavenger shit!" The Tribune brought his Arc Maul down onto the merc's arm, breaking it in a single swipe.

"You will not interfere with the Mechanicum's affairs." The Tribune spoke as the merc moved back, screaming in agony. Tali was thankful of the Skitarius's action, but she now knew full well that was their duty.

"Lord Oxian." Tali spoke respectfully, dismissive of the merc's agony; hoping to somehow impress the Techpriest with her disregard.

"Speak."

"The deadline approaches for my trial."

"That it does; in two hours and fifty two minutes."

Tali was happy that he didn't jump immediately to her trial. "I doubt we would have much time in the near future. Seeing how we're about to undergo a mission. So I was wondering if we could push the test to now."

Oxian looked at Tali in the eyes, if he could he would smile at this. "I'm appalled that you came to that conclusion."

"It's inefficient otherwise." She stated.


Shepard came out to speak with us. Respectfully he asked me to speak with his little pet. I was half tempted to decline, but we were surrounded by the prying eyes of too many xenos. I followed him, paying little attention to the xenos moving to and fro with reports. We entered a decent sized room, a window with a remarkable view took up the entire back wall; a perfect sniper shot could kill anyone within. "An absolute honor to meet you." Her words were directed at me.

"Save your honor, harlot. I don't consort with Slaaneshi swine, such as your race." I growled.

She was shocked by my venomous outburst. "Apologies… Shepard tells me you can assist with our current situation."

"Fire and sword is all I can offer."

"Unless you're willing to kill eighty five million people, I don't think that's an option." She spoke calmly, and with little knowledge on how willing I'd be to bring them to the torch. "I have a theory that this is far greater than simple unrest, meaning it would have had an origin."

"And do you have any proof? Do not waste my time on this nonsense!" I growled.

She sighed. "That's why I need your brief assistance." Activating her omni-tool she brought up several images. "During the first day, the Prothean museum was stormed by an unknown force. It was retaken in a bloody fight, we're still barely holding it. Regardless, they defiled the museum; and painted strange markings, could you by chance identify them?" Stone, and metallic 'artwork' were sprayed with blood; the blood of innumerable xenos being used as a paint in hands of a child.

Each was indeed a character, the runes on my armor were of the same tongue; the tongue of the neverborn. "It's a ritual."

"A ritual?" Garrus asked, a mixture of confusion and horror filling his voice.

Chaos was an ever-present force in the galaxy; forming gods and pantheons of savage races, and uneducated humans. So it did not surprise me to see this among the xenos. It would also explain the nature of the Warp here. I looked at the pictures again, a large crate stood at the back of the museum; a section left largely undefiled. "What is that?" I pointed it out.

"Most believe it's a tomb of some kind." Liara hastily explained. "Do you have any ideas on how to solve this?"

"Cut the head off. If we slay the preacher, no one will hear the gods. Unless it has already rooted itself into your world; then you've already lost."

"Sadly, no one matches a description such as that."

"Then you've lost. Best we can do destroy their advantage, and hope you're worthwhile enough to receive assistance. Or wait and die, you choose your fate." I looked at the images once more. "Perhaps if I study the markings in person, I could narrow down whom the prophet may be."

They nodded, before the Asari turned to me. "I can arrange a runner to guide you."

"A runner?" Shepard inquired.

"Supplies have to be scavenged, or traded with other safe zones. That's their job, they know Illium now like no one else."

"Good." I muttered. "The anti-ship weapons; we shall have to silence them, but I doubt a system such as that would be as simple as a few explosives."

The Asari typed a few keys on her terminal. After a few moments of waiting, a few images appeared. "Most of the system is automated, luckily that means if you take out the nexus; most of the guns will stop working. Only problem is that in fifteen minutes, the system reboots."

"Scrap code. If Oxian uses a form of scrap code he'll shut the whole system down." I suggested, earning a surprised expression from Shepard. "If possible we could use the Normandy to airdrop him, and the Skitarii with a clear landing zone; and while the weapons are temporally rebooting."

"That could work." The three of them spoke simultaneously.

"I would have expected nothing less from an esteemed house such as yours." Said Liara.

What in the Warp was she talking about? "Esteemed house? Xeno, I am not some noble of a feudal world. If that's your attempt at flattery, I'll cut you down before you can say your own name." Shepard, and Garrus shot me an arrogant look as I said this; displeased that I threatened their 'friend'.

"Than what do you know about the Protheans?"

Growing increasingly annoyed at the vague questioning, I snapped. "If you have a point get to it! Before I take it from you!"

She entered a contemplative state. "Actually, I'm intrigued now." Garrus spoke up. "You mentioned his heraldry, or insignia whatever; but it's familiar from my-"

"Because the markings, it's of a Turian house." She interrupted. Of course these xenos endlessly correlate with us; food, now our very markings. It's pathetic really. "An old influential family, one that many assume is extinct. House Magnus-"

I felt my psychic energy flare at that, how dare they not only steal my Primarch's name, but say it in such a trivial manner. Magnus is either loved or scorned by his sons; and I shall never forgive him for leaving us. "But for us Asari and the Protheans, it means-" A buzzing noise emanated from the xeno's terminal. Upon activating it, she stood up and exclaimed. "By the goddess!" A hint of fear could be seen behind her eyes, she kept such emotions well hidden; aside from her outburst. The xeno was as professional as an Inquisitor, I'll give her that.

"What's wrong?" Shepard tensed up at Liara's sudden outcry.

"They've gotten through!" She exclaimed, and I couldn't help but smile; a distraction from this pathetic moment.


In a staggered withdrawal, the security forces retreated from their posts. It was effective, as they claimed scores of the revolting underlings. Yet as the last of their posts were overrun the situation became clear.

They were surrounded. Fleeing to other hard points would cut them off, and a second layer of defenses had yet to be established. Worst of all was that their ammunition was abandoned, now held by those who wished to butcher them.

"Your orders captain?" Men cried out like lost children, knowing that they were not HIS men. He was speechless, perhaps the wisest decision was mad; but the losses they would take. Simple men simply did not appreciate his craft.

"Captain Morozov; report. What's the situation?" Another voice called, an Asari officer that he would spit at; who was she to command from an ivory tower, and not with us mud trodden soldiers?

"Heavy losses to security forces. I still have three squads to spearhead an assault." He reported. They were mercenaries, from the deepest undercities. And without publicly bragging, the line has been held by them, and them alone. They'd all seen what these 'madmen' do to their victims, yet it didn't faze them. "Equip chemical gear." He ordered to his men.

They opened aluminum canisters, and pulled out archaic black masks. The small unit was wanted in council space, restricting their business to the Terminus systems. All the better, for how else should they do their job? Lose men, what a savage concept.

The amber lenses on their masks cut into the fleeing forces. "Brace." Upon his order, they moved into position. M-99s, and N7 Valkyries pointed down range.

"You are to hold until reinforcements arrive."

"Arrogant bitch." Morozov muttered to himself, spitting out his cigarette. "This is a target rich environment, is it not?" He spoke jokingly to his men, earn a series of muffled laughs. Upon raising his hand grenade launchers joined the braced weapons. Clenching his hand into a fist, the launchers roared. Grenades detonating into a thick yellow cloud. A few luckily managed to go through the gas, be it timing or respirators saving them from the potent nerve agent. "That will hold them." And besides, any that get through will simply be cut down in their gun line.

He knew these 'madmen', they used to be drinking partners and the like. They were not mad, just 'over-confident'. "Who are we?!" He yelled out, knowing that those sane would flee at their unflinching nature.

"Red Forest!" His men cried out.

"And what is our duty?!" He cried out again.

"To rid the world of scum! By any means, nothing will stop us in our triumphant march towards saving the planet!"

"OORAH!" They all cried out. Despite their masks, the message was clear. How many corpse will it take before they fall?


The lift moved at a painfully slow pace. Yet again, the Normandy's seemed to be running faster. The cargo lift ferried not only the entirety of the Astartes, but Shepard's team as well; with the exception of Tali, who stayed with Oxian to guard the Normandy.

Aside from a few jokes from Zaeed, and Grunt's boredom; the group slipped into a professional state. Whatever this world would have in store for them they were about to see. 'A battlefield unlike any other.' Those words circled in Shepard's mind. Did he see this somehow? The idea was absurd, but everything the Sorcerer says and does is absurd. Perhaps it was a coincidence, a mentioning to the Reapers, and then this happened.

The door slid open, showing police and mercs reorganizing; the lighting was slowly beginning to fail, leaving natural light to be the main source from warehouse windows. A smoky haze filled the room, ventilation had also begun to fail as a few mercs smoked in a somber state. Boxes of thermal clips being rationed. A triage center showed roughly thirty wounded, crude bandages showing that even medi-gel was running low. Two oddly clad mercs took a crate containing a missile launcher, and sprinted out with little opposition. Clad in a forest green, baggy rubber suits worn over a standard hardsuit. Additional armor plates were added to their chest, and lower legs. Most notably however was the domed helmet, and black mask. Almost like a mixture of 20th century, and modern equipment. In fact, they seemed to share the brutal design philosophy of the Astartes, and their minions. "You must be Shepard! Heard you were coming." A female Human yelled, clad in the blue armor of the Suns. "Listen we don't have a lot of time, so I'll make this brief." She gestured him over to a hologram of the city block. Other officers of various mercenary, and private organizations were gathered around. Some looked at the Astartes in the darkened environment with a sense of wonder. The Blue Sun simply coughed in order to get their attention back.

"I'll only go over this once. Strongpoint 'Hells Gate' has been overrun. If we don't retake it soon, we won't make it over the night. The three buildings." Three towers glowed orange for emphasis, each were connected by a single bridge like road. "The sooner we move, the less dug in they'll be. So, each of our groups have a building. Red Forest will push center, Eclipse will push the left building, Blue Suns with the Illium PD and Shepard's team will push right. We have to be fast, once word that a breach as spread; they'll be on us like Varren."

Everyone nodded, grim-faced they looked at one another. For many this will be their last fight. They all knew that this was survival at this point. "I don't think I have enough Eclipse left for this though." Another Asari began to speak. "I only have twenty left, seven of which are wounded. Even if we secure the building, something I doubt; we can't possibly hold it."

"We shall take it." The Sorcerer abruptly stated, causing many to turn to their colossal presence. "My brothers can easily storm the structure and clear it. These 'Eclipse' shall assist this 'Red Forest' band."

"I'd think we'd take less losses by attacking the left building." She growled back

"Then you're a foolish whore." The Astartes voice dripped with venom.

The Blue Sun tapped the table. "Ten of you? How can you-"

"They can do it." Shepard interrupted. "Trust me, they can easily retake the building."

She sighed. "Fine, but the fact is if they fail we'll be surrounded and slaughtered. So I'll be sure you're the first to go down slowly and painfully, Shepard." He was unfazed by the threat. "Eclipse will assist us in our assault."

"Why not help the Red Forest? Surely they'd be undermanned?" Zaeed inquired abruptly, hatred of his old merc group hidden in his gaze.

"Their esoteric in their tactics." She simply stated. An alarm on her Omni-tool flared. "Let's move it people!"

With buildings obscuring the Red Forest line, little wind blew the gas. Permitting the field to be saturated for a little bit longer. Thermal images painted an outline of their foe. Shots from M-99 Sabers cut through the gas, hitting waiting berserkers. Morozov made a note on his Omni-tool to order a few Revenants, yet again situations like this never happen. It was a nice break from the standard 'gas them out, and snipe those who flee' monotony, but that was their doctrine. 'Deviations are a pain in the ass to put it bluntly' as he would put it. "A nerve agent? I'm amazed no one else is smart enough to use such weaponry." A wine like voice emerged from behind him.

"Thank you, no one appreciates such a simplistic thing. Gas, cheaper than thermal clips at times."

"It's also random; I prefer order in battle, it's far more predictable."

Without turning he continued. "You just have to know the gas like any gun. How heavy is it? How much does the wind kick it around? How long it takes to paralyze a man? Simple things, I know that X-10 like a sniper knows a Mantis."

"It's also inelegant and not thorough, a false sense of security can occur and an ambush as a result."

Morozov simply laughed. "Normally people say 'Oh what about their pain and suffering?' I simply laugh, dead men don't suffer in the end."

His guest began to laugh slightly as well. "It's good to see someone with some sense."

"Hey, I can say the same thing." He turned to face who he was talking to, the Astartes gave him a sudden fright. "Jesus man, I doubt we have anything to get through that!" He crudely commented on the ornate power armor. "And we're the best equipped bastards here!"

"You ready?" The Eclipse leader butted into their conversation. Walking in front of the advancing mortals.

Morozov waved his hand dismissively, his mask obscuring his smirk. "Yes, yes. Now can you go away? I was having a conversation here!"

"Sorry Morozov, but I plan on sleeping tonight without getting impaled. So do your fucking job!"

"Oh sorry princess, pissed off that you're getting out shown by a 'minor' organization. Cry me a river, and let us do our jobs!" Morozov responded, frustration toward the Asari filling his voice.

"Why is this called 'Hells Gate'?" The Astartes asked, causing Morozov to turn his attention toward his 'guest' once more.

"We, as in my company alone, blew the other land routes. Making this the only passage. Many disagree, but we don't have enough people to hold more than one gate. And it's 'hell' out there, so 'Hells gate'; Mira came up with that, she's a good sergeant." He pulled up his mask, revealing a series of scars across his round pale face and dead green eyes. Bringing a flask up to his lips before sighing after his drink. He must have been roughly in his fifties, perhaps early sixties. "I swear, this isn't hell. Hell would have drinks, and prostitutes. At least my hell anyway."

The Astartes could see that this place had mentally drained him. A façade was all he could maintain, all for his men to stay determined. Noble, but foolhardy. Yet it's because of this façade that no one is fleeing right now; a foundation of courage. A necessity in a siege. "So what outfit are you a part of?" Asked Morozov.

"I'm accompanying Commander Shepard." The Astartes stated truthfully.

"Oh, right the dead Spectre is here. I don't put my credits with dead men. Even if they're 'heroes'."

Upon taking in the ranks of the 'Red Forest' the Astartes simply muttered. "We're all simply dead men walking."

Morozov clapped his hands at the Astartes. "I like you; listen you ever need us. Call us up, it'll be discounted for you!"

The gas began to dissipate, allowing unassisted eyes to see through. Avengers began to fire on both sides. Precise Saber shots arced across the battlefield, taking out those behind soft cover. "Move up!" The Eclipse leader cried out, her kinetic barriers flaring.

"Idiots!" Morozov yelled. "They're just letting their barriers do their work. All it takes is-" As he spoke, a blue robed Turian threw a boxy piece of equipment. Hitting the ground with a clank, it discharged a massive electrical surge. With their kinetic barriers overwhelmed, three Illium PD officers were cut down by a cross fire of Avengers. "Lob some grenades into those windows!" Morozov ordered, pointing where the hiding dissenter fired from.

Shepard's team advanced, far slower than the mercs. A staggered advance with two teams, one covering the other. "Get down!" Jacob abruptly yelled, wrapping both his arms around his squad members Grunt, and Miranda bringing them to the ground. A yellow ball surged across the battlefield, almost invisible to the eye. Exploding into a mushroom cloud, vaporizing five Blue Suns and the scrap car that they hid behind.

"Garrus, take out that Cain!" Shepard ordered. Before he could zero in his target, another round was fired. Exploding in another brilliant flash in the center of 'no-man's land'. A white barrier caused the mushroom cloud to become misshapen, but like hellish knights; the Rubric Marines advanced. Glowing hot soot stayed on their plate as they raised their weapons to their hips. In precise bursts of flaming rounds, they began the trivial slaughter of those foolish enough to leave cover.

Another slug was loaded into the Cain, just as Garrus lined up a shot for the gunner. He could only watch as they turned to ash as a green flame engulfed them. An otherworldly screech was emitted from them as their very souls were cast into the warp. The Sorcerer advanced with his Rubricae, his Serpenta vaporizing any target in the open; and warp fire for anyone hiding. The green mercenaries advanced behind them, lobbing grenades that emitted a thick black gas instead of the yellow. In coughing fits the dissenters fled out of hiding, only to see the advancing gun line.

With the full might of the warp, the Sorcerer flung dissenter, after dissenter back into the undercity. Fighting hivers was a simple task, yet it did not help that these were nowhere near the level competence of an underhive gang. The Rubric Marines broke off from the Red Forest, and proceeded to the left most building.

It was almost disheartening to see how simple of a bloody fight that was. Their simple appearance almost shattered the main defense of the attackers, leaving only the need to mop up. Even then, to see the dead littering the ground like this. Shepard recalled his days of officer training, this now reminding him of his reading of Stalingrad; a battle of block, by bloody block. He stepped over the foolhardy Eclipse leader, few survived the attack. And yet the Red Forest, and the Astartes have as little as a scratch. Perhaps it was the shock that simple civilians were capable of fending off two well-known mercenary groups, and the Illium PD was just nearly an impossible concept.

Breaching the right building, they swept room by room. Sporadic weapons fire and screams were heard. Even Zaeed was on edge in the darkened apartment block, yet it may be that he's fighting alongside Blue Suns as well. "Clear." Garrus spoke over their radio, leaving another room.

It was interesting to see the three other groups at work. Eclipse using Biotics to throw doors into the room, Blue Suns using drones to scout out rooms, and Illium's Police using stun grenades. Yet there was an air of inefficiency, which the Astartes would no doubt despise. Grunt kicked open another door, his barrier flaring as he took fire. What they saw was disgusting, another robed civilian; an Asari, bloated beyond belief. Grunt grabbed the Asari, and repeatedly smashed her head against the wall with his cybernetic arm. Green pus, and maggot infested viscera sprayed against the wall. A disgusting scent filled the entire building. The Blue Sun leader sprinted into the room, her hand covering her mouth. "GET BACK!" She yelled. The Asari bloated even more, flesh seeping through makeshift armor; before violently detonating. "Fuck!" She yelled, rubbing the bile like fluid off of her. "Burn this fucking room." She ordered. Grunt merely shook the viscera off of himself, his helmet no doubt hiding his smile.

"What the hell was that?" Shepard asked the Blue Sun.

She sighed and meekly shrugged. "Only started seeing them yesterday, biological suicide bombers. Their puss attracts flies, and not like those on Earth. Those fuckers eat you alive. Lost three to 'em."

It was shocking to hear such a thing, it's simply not natural. "How…"

"No fucking idea." She interrupted. "Past that gate is hell. I guess that makes me the ferryman."


Morozov's job was easy enough, well his tactic made it easy. Two shields stood in front of him, their shotguns ready. Gas, breach, and kill. This cycle for every room, hence why this building was known as the smokehouse. They've held it this long, might as well keep holding it. "Captain." SGT. Mira called in.

"Go ahead." He said, putting a round in a dead Krogan's head with his Predator.

"We've secured the strong room, it's not breached."

"Good, have your squad hold the lobby. Won't be long before they come back-" He stopped in his tracks, despite the tinting of their lenses, he saw his men's eyes clearly; pure fear. "What's the matter with you, move in…" He saw it now. A café of sorts had been built into the apartment block, his men had turned it into a field canteen. Crimson filled the room, his own men were strung up like some butcher's shop. Roughly twenty dissenters sat around, drinking from cups and mugs. They even drank off the floor itself, taking their fill of Morozov's men vital fluids. Madness filled their eyes as they drank. They faced his breacher team, still sunken into fear. They charged with knives, and pikes made of scrap. Kinetic shields designed to stop rifle rounds didn't register the esoteric attack. Morozov watched in horror as his two comrades were impaled by pikes, and cut to ribbons by knives. He fired round after round. If his assailants had worn kinetic barriers, he surly would not have taken a few of them down.

A shotgun blast blew another attacker away. "Captain!" One of his Specialists yelled out, dragging his leader back. A knife became lodged in the mercenary's shoulder, knocking him back. Morozov activated his Omni-tool, its micro-fabricator creating a whirling cycle of filaments. Blocking the blow, he brought it to his assailant's head; turning it into a fine red mush.

'No, this is hell.' He thought to himself as he looked at his dead men. Another squad surged past him to finish the job, their flamethrowers blazing as the world became a blurred mess.


This was a task for the Spireguard, or Oxian's Skitarii. This was beneath us, a waste of time. It was trivial to feel our foes presence, and exterminate them. Filling a room with warpfire was no challenge, nor is having us near indestructible Astartes slaughter with our blades. If I ever returned to my reality I know that my skills would have dulled to the point in that I'd be comparable to an Aspiring Sorcerer. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

I sighed, unnerving a lamb on the other side of a wall. Nakanus stabbed his Necron blade through the wall, seemingly parting just his foe's flesh. Three more stood behind another wall, I simply boiled their blood; filling the corridor with their screams. I hated this, despite the indescribable joy I gained from the Ocean being in its full might. Perhaps this is why the ruinous powers watch us mortals, because their might is beyond comprehension to all those beneath them; that it would be more tiresome to physically act. A sad, and possibly incorrect comparison; but perhaps it is most apt for the situation.

A Turian opened fire on us, I hadn't in truth noticed the insect yet. Its blue robes oddly fitting apparel for the xeno. Gahiji raised his Stubber, and with a quick burst he severed the xeno in two.

I placed my hand on the wall, feeling its smoothness. The architecture is admittedly the greatest part of this reality; nowhere near Prospero, but it's still pleasing. Yet another reminder on how humanity has fallen. If I'm not mistaken however, this is still a xeno world; perhaps humanities are only greater than.

An explosion filled the corridor with smoke, a clever trap laid by these insects. Perhaps I'm merely not giving the mortals, and xenos credit. If we were not clearing this structure, how many would have died? I'm certain if even the Skitarii we had tried this we would lose at least one. "Oxian, how fares the Normandy?" I spoke into the vox, hoping he would break this boredom clasping my mind.

"Few xenos attempted to break through, Ranger-7 dealt with them promptly." He reported.

"And what of your pet xeno?" I jokingly asked.

A silence followed, no doubt him mentally cursing me. Perhaps I would have no idea even if I was there, he'd grown exceptional with hiding his thoughts. "Tali'Zorah is performing many rituals of the Priesthood… Exceptionally. Even individual philosophy." He growled his use of exceptionally, hating that despite her short comings he's being proven wrong. It was good to see him at least try with the xeno, after the failure that was Mordin; perhaps because this was of their own initiative. Regardless, if we could get Tali to be a willing servant, than Shepard will fall as well.

Raising my Serpenta, I pulled the trigger as a group of Batarians turned the corner; vaporizing them instantly. "Any projects you may have in the near future?"

"Should you not be focusing on your current task, my lord?"

I laughed within my helmet slightly. "I get more of a challenge from a Fenrisian child."

"The combat Automata known as 'LOKI mechs', their reactors can be used for wave emitters. There is a chance of making a crude Melta weapon; pathetically crude, but a Melta weapon regardless. Otherwise, I await resources from 'Cerberus'." While his definition of 'crude' tends to be akin to an Ork weapon, I'm glad he's making progress in adaption; for time is all we truly have.

A chill went down my spine, my head began to ache. Something I thought would be impossible, a Pariah. How in the Ocean they could have that gene present but no psykers will be a saddening mystery, but this was going to be interesting at least. Perhaps a poetic kill, after all it's their disgusting fault that I'm here. I felt its presence, the horrible feeling of nothingness. Right above us; a weak order was given, my Rubricae already moving sluggishly as a result of its presence. They opened fire, rounds easily penetrating the metallic flooring. The abomination was fast, it was doubtful that it was using the upper floor. My Rubricae turned their guns to the vent, and opened fire once more. I hoped it would cut it off, and kill it. Instead the creature left the vent system in a swift kick.

It was a xeno, green with 'gills' on a human like face; its pitch black eyes similar to a son of the Raven. Turning their stubbers to our foe, they filled the corridor with rounds. Almost as fast as an Astartes, it moved to cover; and then continued running. I gave pursuit, staff and Serpenta in hand. Perhaps this will be a far greater challenge than anything else here, considering this xeno's exceptional speed and abhorrent gene. I than realized something, the beast led me into a trap. With the speed of a chainsword, and the force of an arc maul; a Krogan hit me in the gut with a weapon in form of hammer. I regained my senses, only for a second blow to make contact with the side of my head. My right eye lens cracked, and shattered. I was a fool; my desire for the abomination's blood, and my underestimation of the Krogan. His third blow was parried, my blade skewering the crimson clad Krogan. I lifted it and tossed it off my blade. Another charged me with a hammer, I braced ready to slay this one as well. Only for another Krogan to charge this one wearing many bones on its armor. It brought its own hammer down, overpowering its foe and crushing its head.

I felt the Pariah in the vents once more, I aimed my Serpenta; ready to kill the bastard. "Watch out!" A female, growling voice called out. A blue cloaked human fired its weapon. I saw the missile, and tried to stop it. No, the Pariah wouldn't allow that. My world faded to black as it made contact with me.


Bathed in radiant light, I ate and drank with my brothers. The balcony that we chose for this occasion was frequented by us, and many others within the legion after long or troubling campaigns. A view consisting of Old Tizca, and with a squint you could see the lion of Occullum Square.

Terranis was always the most worried of us, just as he was the youngest. Yet his caution was a great help at times. "To what extent would the Emperor enforce his decree, and what if its breaking point is miniscule? What if he sends the Wolves if we so much as foresee our future?"

"Doubtful at best." Isador Tol-Kai, our Apothecary merely sighed. "No one will enforce Nikea. So we shall continue our work forever more."

Nakanus simply snorted. "Indeed, it's pathetic that you would even think that would happen; brother against brother? Absurd."

I continued to drink my wine in silence, my brothers were arguing for an hour. Not that I despise it; we all must adapt, and this is how scholars and philosophers act. Atum Laudren simply toyed with his servo arm, the desire to drink and eat being trained out of him on Mars. "Not that absurd, the Wolves hate us with every drop of blood they have. After all, one of Ahriman's trainees was one to betray us. They will betray us completely, so we must be cautious." He spoke with a cold logical tone, yet I knew in the back of his mind he deemed the odds as too low; but still present.

Gahiji lowered his drink. "Agreed, least we can do is be cautious. Preparation never harmed anyone."

"It's not as bad as we think." Akil Khenti began simply. "Even without our power at its full might, we are still the finest Astartes in the galaxy." He spoke in a triumphant tone; masking not hatred, but disappointment.

"It's hypocrisy." I muttered.

"Brother, do not say that." Lukman snarled. "If it's the will of the Emperor-"

"A perfect psychic being, need I remind you. He's frightened by the knowledge we've acquired, or what we may learn." I finished my drink, which a serf promptly refilled without as much as a glance.

Herumon lowered his drink. "Then he would have his reasons." He spoke with a sharp tongue. "Something beyond our comprehension."

"Beyond Magnus's?" I retorted. "Ignorance is the true evil in this galaxy; not the Orks, not Eldar raiders. If the Emperor wishes to deny us what makes us righteous and hide it for himself, what would that make him?"

Isador turned to me, his organic emerald eyes cutting into me like those of our helmets. "Perhaps he wishes us to grow a little more slowly, so he can teach us himself. We've learnt so much in centuries, perhaps as much as he learnt in many millennia. We may turn to dust with such knowledge and no preparation. Time will answer that question, and besides; Guilliman can't be the only one to build their own empire." He earned a few laughs from my brothers. "To change the subject slightly; we should be thankful of those who spoke on our side during Nikea."

"Indeed, I will have to thank the next son of the Khan I see." Laudren spoke once again; I knew of his fondness of fighting along the White Scars, and I too grew fond of them after seeing Yesugei speak.

I finished yet another glass of wine before standing. "I'm returning to my quarters for the night, if any of you wish to continue this conversation; I'll be there."

"Share my greetings with your apprentice." Requested Nakanus, who I nodded to as I left. Donning my helmet, I walked past mortals who would otherwise not expect Astartes in such establishments. I made the steady journey to the Pyramid of Photep. My brothers had failed to remove the uncertainty clouding my mind.

Fire, fire was all I saw; nothing more. This filled my throat with bile. I wanted, no I needed answers. This feeling continued until I could not contain it anymore, I raised into my upper Enumerations; a false peace in the tempest within my own mind. The world was a blur as I overlooked unneeded details, I was once more in the eyes of the Sekhmet. The tempest softened as I saw the entrance of the Pyramid. Almost delusional I walked for an extra hour up the stairs to my quarters.

The door silently opened, showing my books being hardly moved. The braziers remained eternally alight. Marble floors, and the large windows made it seemingly an eternal reflection of light as well. "Master!" A young voice cried out from beyond the second room's door.

My apprentice approached me with a slight bow. Her striking violet eyes never leaving mine, her shoulder length blonde hair was freshly groomed; and flesh of porcelain, almost like that of an Eldar. Many mortals described her as 'beautiful', something I couldn't truly care for. "Annette, how goes your studies?" I asked; her name was not her own, originally it was some unpronounceable savage tongue. Then the Word Bearers 'enlightened' her world, yet again I still think they're still on that world; Cadia I believe. In fact she changed twice, she preached that the Emperor was a god once herself; At least I changed that swiftly. So malleable the minds of mortals.

"They fair well." She produced a bottle of wine from behind my desk. "Lord Ahriman sent this as a gift, 'a token of thanks for standing resolute at his side.'" I laughed internally, the amount of drink this day makes me feel like a Space Wolf in that regard. I removed my helmet; it still struck me odd how she was never revolted by my scarred flesh. "Is something wrong?" She asked as I felt her mind reach into mine, I could never fully live as an empath.

"Uncertainty." I merely said. Placing my Khopesh near my weapon rack, and helmet on its stand. "Do you feel it?" I asked, she had grown significantly psychically; mastery of feeling the minds of others, and massive improvement in precognition. Even Ahriman was impressed, perhaps Magnus will be as well in time.

"No, only from your mind." She reported. Taking in the impressive view of Tizca from this high up was enlightening at times, it was almost like living as a raven. "I was wondering, if I could join you on your next campaign? Or voyage in general." She suddenly blurted out, breaking the temporary tranquil silence that persisted.

"An odd request."

"No, not really. We hardly have any form of lessons, and Ahriman has been instructing a Remembrancer; if I'm not mistaken. And my improvement in the teaching of the Corvidae have slowed drastically, so it would be in our best interests to continue off-world." She stated, clearly using logic to win this request.

"I'm certain if I speak to anyone within the Great Library they would say you've either put off your studies, or you're lying about your progress." She weakly smiled at this. "Tell the truth."

"As lovely that Prospero is; I want to see the stars. Regardless, I am your pupil; and what type of teacher never teaches his student?"

"You would make a fine diplomat, but you're still evading the truth."

She was silent for a few moments, I anticipated another slight lie. "I wish to be with you, that's the truth." She laughed slightly. "Foolish of me, to let my emotions be a driving force for such a decision; but I implore you to at least consider it." She once again weakly smiled at me, her eyes never leaving mine.

"It is not my decision to make; you would best ask Lord Ahriman." Her smile faded at my response. It was odd to see such reactions, let alone understand them at times. I suppose that's what truly separates us from mortals, the little actions that define our 'humanity'; it's pathetic to be forced to separate what we once were.

"One day you'll see, the wings that I see." She spoke in almost a whisper, eyes growing wistful.


The ornate warrior was knocked to the ground by the blast. A quick burst from her Cyclone rifle cut down the launcher carrying madman. "Drack! Help me a little!" She ordered, rushing over the fallen Astartes.

"He just took a missile to the chest I doubt…" He examined the damage only being scorch marks, and a minor dink. "Never mind, or his lungs may have collapsed. Who knows, but we should keep moving Vetra." Drack dismissively growled.

Vetra moved his robes slightly, revealing a precise small hole between his ribs. A small, insignificant amount of bleeding emerged from it. But then she saw seemingly writhing flesh beneath, slowly covering the wound like maggots on a corpse. Disgusting was putting it lightly; yet it was thankfully temporary as it formed together, hardening an almost scale like 'scab.' His broken lens showed a seemingly burned eye, yet in the back of her mind it was off-putting in some regard. "Shit!" She activated her Omni-tool, scanning for internal damage. What little the scan showed was a mash between unidentifiable cybernetics, and organs. "Damn, hardly human." She muttered. "Come on, prove me wrong! Got enough crazies as is."

"Vetra, I swore he was chasing… What was his name again? The Drell runner?" He asked as he aimed his shotgun, covering Vetra. "We better clear out of here soon. Won't be long until either more show up, or Red Forest guns us down in the crossfire."

Drawing her pistol to keep a weapon ready she looked into the lifeless lens of the Astartes. A sudden luminescent green glow emerged, and his right eye opened revealing an icy blue tainted by flecks of purple. Jumping back from the Astartes as he raised his own pistol and pointed it squarely at Vetra.


Only the fool wishes to go into battle to beat someone for the satisfaction of beating someone. I believe one of the slabs at the Palace of Wisdom once said that. I suppose my desire to kill the abomination makes me a fool, an amazingly alive fool. Twice I've awakened into the eyes of xenos; at least I have not killed or injured the xeno this time. Lowering my bolt pistol, we all turned to the sudden crash of my Rubricae kicking down a door to reach me. "I guess that's that then." The Turian spoke, lowering its weapon in defeat and standing. It was thinner than Garrus, with a shortened 'crest', and flatter faced. The tone in its voice made me assume that it was a female of the species. "I guess if you're going to kill us, get on with it." Her green reptile like eyes obscured by a visor.

"You're kidding Vetra?" A Krogan spoke up, bones adorning its armor. And its own carapace seemingly grown and faded, unlike Grunt's many metallic segments. It growled in a gruff tone, aged perhaps? "Yeah, give up then."

I raised myself on my staff. "I don't have any need to kill you, yet."

"Yet; yeah makes all the problems go away. Considering you're one of them, makes you really trustworthy." Sarcasm filled her voice.

"You are not dead yet, so that should shed your fear. And what do you mean by 'them.'"

"You're marked, only people at the center of the red zones have those scars." What scars? I reached up, only to feel the flesh around my right eye twitch at the ice cold ceramite. I casted an illusion; hastily, the imperfect replication shimmered in mortal eyes. "How… How did you do that?" She stammered at her words, even the Krogan looked in disbelief. A reaction I've grown accustomed to over the millennia; oh how misunderstood our art is, especially here.

"The red zones?" I inquired, Rubricae forming a perimeter once I noticed their unease at their open backs.

She crossed her arms. "Brain Scorchers, hell pits, madness land, they go by many names; officially they're red zones. People go in, come out with your scars with the intent to kill anyone else. Unlike the bastards attacking here, they're competent. Well, blue robes seem to be the exception to that; but they aren't fearless, just smarter than the rest." She explained, looking at my Rubricae. "Are you new or something?"

I grabbed my Serpenta, and inspected it for damage. "Somewhat, but I'm possibly the only one with expertise on this matter." Thankfully little befell my ancient sidearm.

"New, and an expert. Never heard that one before. Listen if you aren't going to kill us." She stopped speaking as she donned her helmet. "Help us kill some of these bastards before Red Forest gases us out."

"Where's the breaching team? Seeing how they're counter attacking." The Krogan inquired.

"This task fell onto us, the floors below are clear; but that pariah escaped. We must kill it." I told the xenos, my focus solely on the hunt.

The Krogan rested his shotgun on his shoulder. "Ten of you? Damn, how many did you lose? And this pariah, can't say I'm familiar with the term; even in this shithole."

"I lost none of my brothers." I snarled. "This pariah is a soulless abomination, which must be cleansed."

The Turian raised her rifle toward the stairwell, indeed I began to hear the rapid footfalls as well. With a silent order, my Rubricae cut through the walls with their stubbers. Those beyond it screamed as they were cut down. She was focused, her piercing gaze analyzed each corner as if something were to appear. "We've got two more floors to clear, and I don't think there's that many left. After that, they'll be scattered. So Drack, and I will clear what's left. Could you cover the first floor so no more show up on our asses?"

I felt 12 scared souls in the floors above, the emptiness of the Pariah having faded. "How many do you think remain?"

"Ten, give or take. We'll be quick."

She loaded another thermal clip into her weapon. "Don't die too easily; if you fail, I'd want you to suffer." I idly threatened, after all their failure would just be a great annoyance. My Rubricae gathered behind me as I began to walk down the corpse littered stairs.

"I don't exactly plan on dying, so we'll take you up on that." She responded, weapon raised as she ascended the stairs.


With the other two buildings cleared, snipers took up their positions. Firing at anything that moved on the 'hell' side of the gate. Garrus couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Only a few held weapons of any sort, most making a 'mad dash' simply held sticks and furniture pieces. Yet the most disgusting part was what the other marksmen fired on, the ones who simple walked around mindlessly. They simply walked to and fro, grabbing pieces of scrap; never even looking at their positions. Some simply looked at the dashers like they were mad to even try, as if they were just normal people in the wrong place wrong time. He could see Eclipse taking the shots, ending their confused lives; but most of those shots were from Illium's own police force. "Madness is a plague here." He overheard a few speak to Shepard. Yes, it's a plague; but it's infected everyone here. Both sides were equally mad, to hold life in such casual disregard. Eclipse, the Blue Suns, Red Forest, and now even Illium's police; this was not a fight, it was a free for all. "Survival." A few muttered as well. If this is what it took to survive, than death would be preferable in his eyes. 'If this is what the Reapers will be like.' He thought to himself. 'Then even if we win, what would we have lost?'

"Shepard." The Blue Sun leader approached them. "You and your team's dismissed, looks like we lived another day." She stated grimly. "See the back lines for cleanup; especially after that freak, along with all the gas." They followed Shepard out in a grim silence. They were throwing the corpses off into the city below after taking what they needed, an undignified death. Red Forest teams used hoses to wash off any residue from their terrible weapons, a foam followed by water.

"Shepard." A red bereted man approached them, wearing a black rubber mask. "We need you and your people to strip for cleaning." He gestured to a darkened rubber tent.

"Is it necessary?" He responded.

"For an N7 you must be stupid!" He laughed deeply. "That's X-10, and our own little custom 'soup.' You want to kill anyone you talk to before you go to bed, be my guest."

Shepard drowned out the idea that he was in such a battlefield, the absolutely horrid idea made him think it was similar to tear gas. "Barbaric assholes!" He yelled, restraining himself from killing the man.

"Well, these 'barbaric assholes' are keeping everyone up there alive and such. So I think we're more heroic than 'the hero of the citadel' himself. Trust me, the bounty on heroes heads are quite large; so I guess that give me two reasons to kill you for stepping through that door!" Everyone nearby tensed and slowly reached for their weapons.

"Enough Corporal!" Another green clad mercenary approached. "Go clean the Mako if you're going to be an asshole about this!" He saluted before leaving, Morozov extended his hand toward Shepard. "I need to be cleaned too, don't worry my boys work quickly. Just as our custom stuff is easy to clean, X-10 not so much. Give us thirty minutes to an hour, and it would be like nothing happened. CPT. Morozov, at your service." Shepard heard of Morozov before; a veteran of the Skyllian Blitz, with more war crimes committed than most in the past century. He fought on both Elysium and Torfan, he and some deranged Major had killed more Batarians in different unspeakable acts then Shepard had fought on Elysium alone. He reluctantly took his hand, still uncertain whether to shake or strangle him. "I had some boys sweep building three…" He whistled. "Boy they did some fine work!" Shepard knew he was talking about the Astartes. "A runner told me he took a missile in the chest, and walked it off! If we had a few more this problem would be gone in a few days!"

'And with millions of bodies.' Shepard mentally added. "I guess we have to go through with the cleaning detail? We need to take out those guns ASAP."

"Yeah, it's for your long term health." He responded jokingly. "X-10's not pretty, the 'soup's' okay; but it's like choosing death over blindness, and lung problems. When you can go neither. Besides, you'd need a runner; and runner's go out at night. So it gives you some time; and like I said, my boys are quick." His team made their way over to the tent, as Shepard stared down the captain for a few moments before joining them.


Vetra watched the Astartes in awe for some time, after the initial horror of them, she found some type of beauty. An archaic beauty that some find in vases, and lamps, but a beauty none the less. Unlike Drack and herself, they were being cleaned by blue robed soldiers and a Quarian, being observed by massive masked beast. Almost in a ritual performed by priests, unlike the rough treatment that everyone gets from Red Forest. Yet there was also something off about their leader, it seemed as if he had an aura. Nothing but raw power, and sorrow. It was odd; yet again, everything's odd these days.

"I'm uncertain my lord." Oxian spoke with a self-loathing tone. "I have nothing, minimal ceramite and let alone the circuitry required for such a task. At least these primitives used a basic chemical weapon, your armor's internal cleaners managed to eliminate such exposure. And purified oils will be more than sufficient."

"Once again this is but an illusion, nothing will stop the mortal weapons. And with a Pariah, I may not be able to create a barrier to stop it." The Sorcerer growled, hating that he led himself into such a situation.

Tali swore to Oxian that these 'Mechanicum affairs' would never be told to her friends, an oath she will keep; but it was odd to see even the Astartes being able to be brought low, or at least damaged. "Lord Oxian?" She muttered softly. "Perhaps I could adapt a kinetic barrier for our lord Astartes. It should prevent such an incident that you mention; a device mount much like the narth…" She struggled with the gothic word.

"Narthecium." The Sorcerer corrected, looking down at the girl with some modicum of respect.

"Narthecium! Thank you, my lord. With a wrist mounted unit, I could have moderately strong barriers built in." Even Oxian was impressed by the ingenuity of the Quarian, but yet he was repulsed by the idea.

Turning to his lord he began to speak. "The idea is fine, Tech-Apprentice; but ultimately such a decision comes down to the Astartes themselves."

With a nod, the Quarian's eyes lit up in a sense of glee. "How long may it take you?" He asked.

"But an hour, at most one-point-five hours." She was swiftly filling the role of a Tech Adept, much to Oxian's own surprise.

"My lords, Alpha-23 contained cogitator units. Apologies my lord, but a Pariah would interfere with your senses far too much. Perhaps the addition of such a unit would permit an additional information acquisition system, they are superior to the primitive systems after all." Ranger-7 blurted out, hoping the blunt use of data would be beneficial to all.

"Very well, make the preparations; both of you. Oxian, the mercenary group present here may be of future use. Observe them, and prepare to contact them on my behest." Oxian bowed at his lord, reaching into his robes.

#The xenos are beginning to understand our resolute nature, and are dissipating from the Normandy.# The Peltast reported to his Techpriest.

#Maintain your objective; a moment of laxity may condemn us all.# He sent back, before pulling out a Servo-Skull. "Perhaps this would be suited for this operation, my lord." It hovered as it activated, a scanner unit emitted a red cone; absorbing all the new data around itself. Many now cleaned mortals stopped to look at the unit, the hovering skull scanned its lord Techpriest and a light blinked green. Printed on the forehead was Oxian's personal sigil; the serpent of the Thousand Sons, built within a cog. "You performed well in life Peltast-Alpha-23, now serve forever more in death." Oxian muttered a quick honor. "This unit has been updated with innumerable identification specifications…"

"It's better if it serves you Oxian." The Sorcerer interrupted.

Oxian chose not argue, for he was his lord Astartes servant. He simply bowed as the Servo-Skull hovered over him. Tali was horrifically intrigued; while her old morals conflicted with such a device, it was still a marvel of technology.


A few probing attacks were made against the gate, each effortlessly repulsed. Yet the every lost thermal clip only lowered morale evermore. And in Shepard's eyes, the waiting only worsened the situation. The loud crack of the defense guns could be heard across the city. He even watched a freighter crash into one of Illium's skyscrapers, and could only helplessly wait for one to crash into their towers; killing him, his team, even Liara. And yet the Astartes simply watched the weapons fire, even looking out into space; as if their lenses could be seen for the endless miles of the void. This was no doubt their paradise, a battlefield that they excel in. He could only sigh as he could not figure out if it was the worst decision, or the best taking them aboard.

The sky slowly turned orange, what little sleep he got was constantly interrupted by those guns. Perhaps this is what a trench was like, hell last time he heard an artillery cannon was in basic training. And now the similar sounds ringed in his ears. Flash, crack, flash, boom, in an endless cycle. "Shepard?" Garrus rounded the corner that he chose to rest near, his helmet still donned; making him seem like a grim reaper. It didn't help that something that rarely happens on Illium occurred; it began to rain. Perhaps it was the magma vents producing steam, or this was a once in a lifetime experience; or it's a reminder of this blood soaked hell, a subtle reminder. Regardless, the dark clouds began to cover the sky. The guns, and the remaining working lights illuminating the now moonless sky. Garrus looked upwards, the rain sliding off his helmet's visor. "We'll be setting out soon. Our runner wants to give us a small briefing, and the Astartes wishes to speak to you." He weakly nodded at his friend's report and began to head over to where their guide told them to gather.

His team was already sitting around the holomap, across from the Astartes and the Ranger. "That's everyone?" The runner asked, to which Shepard nodded in confirmation. "I guess we should get basic introductions over with. Vetra, Vetra Nyx. This is Nakmor Drack; and it's our jobs to keep you alive out there. So you'll listen and do everything we tell you. There's some strange shit out there that will kill you in a snap; so if I tell you to do a handstand, you better do it." She looked at the Astartes briefly before sighing. "Stealth won't be easy, but everyone needs to keep their head down. Swimming in corpses is hard enough, it's harder when the entire block is heading your way. As for kit; you'll need a minimum of two days rations. Medi-gel, thermal clips, a demo pack, your Omni-tools to have the blade re-enabled…"

The Ranger and her lord made a soft laugh at the mention of 'Omni-blades'; perhaps due to wasted training for something that already existed, or that they'd be disabled in the first place. "SGT. Mira from Red Forest will do it for you, so speak with her when we're done. As for our route, we'll be making a beeline for the central bastion; stopping only for a few yellow zone communities. On our way back, we'll be passing the museum safe zone. Then we'll be home free. Needless to say, this is an easier said than done trip. We'll be passing the main Scorcher, along with a few psy-fields. During those times, I'll ask you to do the handstand and you better do it quick. Doesn't help either that we'll be right in the sights of the Marked; tough, smart, and utterly fanatical. They say they know where you are at all times, but that's bullshit; they only know if they find you in the first place. Any questions, because we won't get any other time for them?"

"Yellow zones?" Miranda abruptly asked.

"Little hamlets of sane people living outside these towers; they're far smarter than most living here. Plus they usually live right on the food stockpiles, so they trade with everyone." Vetra answered.

"These 'Marked', what are they armed with?" Zaeed inquired.

"Same as Red Forest, sometimes better. That Cain during the battle was most likely supplied by them." A few muttered 'shits' could be heard from Shepard's team, hardware like that in the hands of fanatics could never end well.

The next question was from Jacob. "How long will we be out in the field?"

"A day, two at most. I normally don't guide this many for the sake of speed."

"How many will we face?" Grunt asked, with a grin.

"Don't get your hopes up whelp." Drack growled. "An entire hunting party of Krogan have been cut up in less time than you've talked."

"Don't chastise me, old man." He snarled back.

"It is a fair question." The Astartes joined the discussion. "I need to know when would be the best time to waste ammunition. Are we facing thousands, or millions?"

"I've seen groups go up to thousands; if we stay and hold, than there will be millions by the day's end." Answer Vetra, causing even Shepard's face turn to that of pure concern. "Hopefully this rain will seclude us somewhat. If there's no more questions, we should finish prepping. We'll leave in thirty minutes."

"The terrain of your route, what is it like?" The Ranger asked.

"Close and personal. The maze that is the lower city will be a good segment of the trip, so bring shotguns; or as I said, Omni-blades."

Silence followed, and Vetra merely nodded and left. Shepard quickly followed her as his team left to make their final preparation. "A pleasure to meet you." She said never breaking step.

"Along with taking out those guns, we're looking for some people." He hastily explained. "Samara, an Asari Justicar; and Thane Krios, a Drell assassin. We're recruiting them, if you have any idea where they are…"

"If memory serves me right; there's a Justicar at the museum safe zone, and Thane's a runner so he could be anywhere." Shepard bit his lip at where Thane could be, yet again he would be the goose chase. He broke away from her, and went to assist his team.


And so they stood, at the verge of a new world. Watching it burn around them. "This wait is pointless! We should crush them now!" One growled, with a blood curdling laugh afterwards.

"Our preparations are almost complete. Then you can have whatever you wish, but not before." Another said back with a sigh. "What is occurring right now is paramount, and cannot afford interruptions."

"Enough!" The third yelled out. "Your endless delays annoy me, and your endless bloodlust is not needed! We stand at the precipice of our great glory, so many souls; ripe for the scythe! We will send them to our lords, but only once we are certain that they'll hear our mighty choir of screams; and take our offerings of blood."

"I would take the greatest of offerings, and yet you confine me here with the weakling! Whilst the others are out there, taking the many glories this world offers!" The first voice snarled back.

"Because they have a touch with the weak, pathetic mortals here. One that you do not possess. Fear not, when the mortals approach once more, you can take your followers and sate yourself." The third spoke once more.


They looked over the gate, the corpses uncleaned and blood tainting the once pristine streets. It was as if they stood on the verge of a new world. The Astartes looked out, as if it were familiar. Vetra stared at the top of a light pole, and Shepard noticed it; the raven with red eyes. No one, but he and Vetra seemed to notice it. He walked next to the Sorcerer, and asked. "What's with the raven?"

"What raven?" He responded, as it slowly faded to dust once more.


Author notes: Recently I've been doing major overhauls to the plot; as such I had to rewrite much of this chapter. For example: Morozov, and Prospero's second flash back was non-existent, along with Vetra and Drack's introduction being for a later chapter. I even have the story's ending act planned (Something that's post Andromeda).

How long I'll be performing these overhauls? I can't accurately say, so I apologize.

Status update on the next chapter: Life has repeatedly been getting in the way of any opportunity to write; once more, I apologize.