OF SERENDIPITY AND BALANCE : HIJINKS EDITION
In which Sanity takes a back seat to ... whatever this is.
Most of this is the Editing Gang.
Remember: This is all Progman's fault.
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ELLIPSIS ABUSE!
... .. .. .. .x.x.x. ...
And the megalipsis! ...!...!
"I...just though t-that.. maybe ... .. you know ... long ... pauses in the ... text...might ...help?"
*eats popcorn, waits for cursing*
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"Push harder," Shepard grunted, bracing herself.
Garrus huffed and wheezed. "I'm trying, Sheep. It just won't fit."
"Bullshit!" She narrowed her eyes and used the short break to wipe her sweat covered forehead. "Are you going soft on me, Chicken? Did the big bad mercs hurt you more than you're letting on?"
His mandibles twitched. "Spirits, Shepard, you really know how to make a turian feel appreciated."
She tilted her chin up. "Less whining – more work. Push."
"I am!"
"Push harder, dammit!"
"It won't fit."
"It will, I'm sure. Stop being so negative."
Garrus slumped against the Die Hard themed pinball machine. "Can't you just use your biotics to – I don't know – widen the entry or something?"
Shepard looked over the bulk of the machine from the other side of the door and threw Garrus a thunderous look. "I...," she trailed off before rallying quickly, "I don't want to damage it in case my biotics go wonky. It's delicate"
The turian who was once a detective felt his fringe tighten in suspicion. "Shepard, I can tell when you're lying." His mandibles spread in undisguised amusement. "It's alright, Sheep, nothing wrong in forgetting you can just use your biotics to put this thing in."
Sara shook her head vehemently. "No, no, no. That's not it; don't be ridiculous, Vakarian." She paused and cleared her throat. "It's just that this thing cost a lot of money and TIM and Miranda have been giving me all kinds of shit over buying it. I really, really don't want to damage it."
"Uh-huh," his tone said it all.
"Really."
With a sheepish expression Shepard used her biotics to move the pinball game inside Grunt's room.
"This stays between us, Chicken." She glared at him. "Not a word to anyone or they won't find your body. Ever."
"No worries, Sheep," Garrus assured, his excellent mood making him almost bounce as he walked next to her. "My mother would have my plates if she found out I made fun of the slower parts of the galaxy's demographic."
"This close, Chicken," She showed him a tiny space between her thumb and index finger. "You're this close to qualifying for Final Line conversion. I'm sure I could sell the idea to Miranda and TIM. Maybe a control chip in what goes for you bird brain so you aren't so mouthy."
He only laughed more.
After a moment, he asked, "So how much did that thing cost actually?"
She told him and Garrus almost tripped before doubling over and giving a hacking cough.
"Spirits of Air and Fire, Sheep!" he fairly exploded. "We could buy another battlesuit for that money! No wonder Lawson's been sulking since last week."
Shepard shrugged. "Yeah, whatever, it's been six months since I decanted Grunt. I felt like celebrating. And before you make some crack about asari prostitutes know that the game I bought is real vintage material, predating the Days of Iron. It's the real thing."
But Garrus wasn't listening. He was standing there with his eyes closed, muttering about Krysae sniper rifle and Sunfire pistols and all the other things they could buy on the black markets of the galaxy.
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Sparatus' mandibles twitched irritably as he threw a dismissive look at the Elcor Ambassador. "You'll have to excuse us if we don't take your word for it, Ambassador. We are the Citadel Council and we deal in facts."
Tevos gave Udina a long-suffered look when the human began having a coughing fit from which her translator picked up two words that sounded suspiciously like: bull shit.
The eclor tilted his head up and uttered monotonly: "With polite firmness: Our Lifemasters wish to remind the honored and wise Council that elcor mines aren't inexhaustible-"
Sparatus scoffed. "Ah, yes. The venerable Elcor Lifemasters with their long established tradition of basing their policy and export prices on drug-induced hallucinations." The turian gave the elcor an incredulous look and made his trademark air quote. "That policy is exactly why you still don't have a council seat."
He folded his arms and fought back a sneer as he looked at his fellow councilors which was the reason why he completely missed the ambassador closing in with him and laying a good one across his face.
Sparatus went down faster than Lidanya in her heyday.
"I never knew an elcor could move this fast," Valern mused speculatively, stroking his chin and giving the elcor ambassador a considerate look. Next to him Thin'Korris nudged the unresponsive Sparatus with the tip of his shoe even as Tevos' frantic calls for security rang through the Council Chamber.
Udina stood to the side and recorded everything with his omni-tool. Stuff like that was the only reason why he still had his sanity. Grinning like a knave he made sure to get extra shots of Tevos pressing a hand to her forehead and looking on the verge of killing them all with her biotics. He glanced at Sparatus and winced in sympathy, bad enough he got punched by an elcor, his face plates looked all messed up and his right mandible was snapped in half and hanging limply by a thread of a muscle, leaking blue blood.
Deciding it was time to work on some turian-human relations and present a concerned side of the Systems Alliance Udina did the sensible thing and applied some medi-gel to Sparatus' face.
And people say I'm a bastard. Bloody ingrate peasants.
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High Spectre Jondum Bau Advises: : Don't use grenades against salarians. Or try to catch salarian grenades. Better yet, don't join the Blue Suns.
Jondum Bau calmly counted the seconds as the thick pillar he was taking cover behind was slowly being shot at - in a very ineffectual manner - by a group of Blue Suns mercenaries. He had been deployed to catch a notorious terrorist, who had joined the Blue Suns in an effort to avoid capture and get killed by the Council. Or more likely, brutally murdered by the people who he pissed off - killing a distant relative of the SIX. Stupid mistakes were one thing, but that was either suicidal or idiotic - and likely both.
He had taken down so many Blue Suns in his career that he had stopped counting at around five thousand. So while he was being shot at by five human mercs, he wasn't too alarmed. Two to the right, two to the left and one sniper on the catwalks above in this decrepit warehouse. He'd already killed the target and six more, and he just had to get past this last bunch before he could leave.
He wondered exactly why they were just shooting at the pillar - was it supposed to make him move? Human tactics were so … strange. Nevertheless, given that the pillar was solid durasteel, he figured he had time to finish that mod-job on his handgun that he had been too busy to finish while the Blue Suns tried to hit him with their poor accuracy.
How a galaxy wide PMC could accept soldiers - much less snipers - that couldn't hit the broad side of a pregnant elcor left him perplexed. He chuckled as he got the pistol to accept the mod, then sighed. This was boring.
He soon keyed a program in his omni-tool, spraying a glob of omnigel at a Blue Suns merc to his right, just as the merc was about to throw a grenade at him. And, of course, the idiot had 'cooked' it - triggered and held it to shorten the delay before explosion. This left a live grenade stuck to his hand and lead the man in general to start panicking, trying to scrape it off in a peculiar way.
Bau sighed in amusement as it exploded in his hand, taking his hand, arm, toros, ass - and the face of the partner next to him - into the new and exciting frontier of explosive chunkification.
Two more on the left he mentally noted as he armed a snap-flak grenade, throwing it to his left side. The merc in-question was stupid enough to grab it from mid-air and try to throw it back - realizing too late, his hand was stuck.
Bau was speechless. The first guy, bad luck. What kind of clown tries to grab a flat-pak greande that everyone knows is going to be covered in fast-adhering omnigel? It couldn't get more hilarious than that.
The Spectre watched in barely concealed amusement as, like the idiot before, the merc tried to get it off. He was doing something unlikely with his foot and screaming his fool head off before losing his balance and falling flat on his face.
The grenade in question detonated, spraying its content around the area. Killing the idiot, and the second hiding behind a crate of explosives. Why someone would hide behind a crate of explosives was yet another thing Bau found himself not wanting to know, instead watching as shrapnel from the explosion rocketed out and up, smashing the sniper in a high perch out of his stance and sending him screaming in a high-pitched way to the ground to land with a sickening thud-splat.
Jondum Bau merely took a look around him and brought his omnitool up. "VI. Note threat of Blue Suns: from idiotic stupid to use vorcha IQ-charts."
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So we just finished the Khorne Arc in the Archangel Ascent Incident.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! ANGST FOR THE ANGST THRONE! HARRIERS FOR THE CUP! Wait wut?
Presumably Slaanesh will be the Sisters of Vengeance Incident.
Telanya and Melenis eyed each other warily, while Garrus cringed. Then Telanya spoke. "I was here first. I get on top."
Melenis gave a shrug. "That's okay, I like tongue better anyway. So, halfsies?"
Telanya smiled and the two turned on Garrus with predatory smiles. "Sure why not."
Garrus stammered out bits of words and Shepard just took a large step back, pulling a confused Liara with here. "We should go, Chicken."
"Shepard don't - AAAGH! Rape! Raaaaaapeee-mrpghhl!"
Shepard shuddered as she ran full out, pulling Liara along. "Jesus Christ. No threeways, Liara."
The asari gave a small shrug. "Mm. Pity. I was wondering about Traynor…"
Tzeentch the assault on the Shadow Broker or maybe the politicking after the Sister of Vengeance?
The Shadow Broker gave a tired, disgusted sigh. "Seriously? Not only did I fail to kill ANY of these fucking hack Mary Sues, you even turn Tazzik against me?"
The salarian puffed on his cigar as he leaned against a wall next to Grunt. "Hey, boss, maybe next time don't put bombs in my head that Vigil can deactivate in half a microsecond, and I'll show more loyalty."
The Broker turned to face Shepard. "I will kill you all."
Shepard, smoking a cigarette, just smirked. "Nope."
The Broker smashed his fist into her face, which came apart in fractal static, revealing only hovering drones. The lead one projected Shepard's voice. "LOL, just as planned. Look out the window, tubby."
Without thinking the big yagh moved to the wide glass window, just as Garrus, Shepard, and a gleeful looking Jack Harper fired sniper rifles from the now decloaking form of the Normandy's cargo bay. The three shots blew his head off instantly.
What about Nurgle, investigating the Batarian Empire perhaps?
Deep in the empty spaces of elcor space, the Lifemasters gathered in a circle.
"Excitement: the offering is prepared."
A bubbling cauldron of blue-green slime, set off with vapors that could have knocked out a hanar, gave an ugly sounding glop before it began to bubble fiercely.
"With exultation: Mighty Nurgle, bless our sacrifice, that we may Open the Ways."
The cauldron glowed greenish white and exploded, showering the Lifemasters with the liquids. Where it once stood now crouched a slime covered being, that slowly got to its feet.
"Gleeful revenge: we have succeeded."
The being glanced around, then twitched and divided into two identical forms, who looked at each other and said "Daamn, Kanye, you look good." A moment later there were four.
"Grim amusement: Let us send them to Earth. That will teach them to steal our weed and hash."
The four Kanye Wests looked around, then frowned as there were now eight of them. "Yo yo yo. Where my people at? So much of me to admire and worship, I shouldn't be denied the fruits of my hard earned brilliance."
One of the elcor gave a snort then died of laughter. The leader merely nodded its head. "Sarcastic irony: Oh, don't worry, we're sending you to them now."
The moral of the story: Henry is functionally insane. Please feed the troll. :D
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Tradius Ahern groaned heavily, still nursing an ice-bag over his precious cargo; as he sat behind his desk and was reading their current mission report.
Having to chase a whack-job to some holy-technology site called Ilos, which was - of course - overrun by more fucking quarians.
And even getting to Ilos had been nothing but hard and irritating work. Everything had gone, down-hill, since Virmire - first, he had that damn galaxy-fucking-matriarch in his grasp, who decided to cheat and kick him in the lower region, before escaping. Then getting chewed out by the environmentalists when he returned to the Citadel, since he detonated a nuke on a garden-world. Even worse, he had to fill-out a nine-thousand page long essay of apology to those damn tree-fuckers, so the Normandy could be released.
And finally, the Council was having their 'official' tea-time - when he needed their help and ships, on stopping that crazy biotic-bitch. So, he was going solo, into unknown territory - with a semi-sane crew, a crazy batarian nutjob, a crazier turian, another turian with a hard-on for shooting anything with a suit, and a hanar, who wouldn't stop preaching about Jingles or Enkindlers or whatever.
"Can this day, get any worse?!" groaned Tradius, still in pain - before the door to his quarters opened, and in walked Rachel Florez, with a beaming smile on her face.
"I'm pregnant!" cheered Rachel, smiling at him.
Tradius, at that moment, cursed in such a language that only a 13-dimensional being would understand it before he pulled a gun from his hip and pointed it at the screen. "Get your fucking ass, back here Author! Before this retarded Editing Gang idiot writes up something, more fucked than your Sheep-story."
At that cue, Rachel, took the moment to rub her tummy and speak, on how 'daddy would read to them, and spoil them and tuck them in at night'. Tradius shivering at that image - and he thought getting biotically kicked in the nuts was painful.
And then, of course the Voice of the Author sounded. "Mm. Good idea."
Ahern glared. "I'm going to climb out of this fucking text and murderfuck each and every one of you aftermaths of a failed lobotomy conducted with goddamned tweezers and wear your skins as a fucking COAT!"
Rachel only giggled and began pulling up baby clothing on her omni-tool. "Look! Blasto PJ's."
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Once upon a time Shepard called a meeting. It was a grand affair, including QEC teleconferencing for those who couldn't attend in person.
Then with all the gravity of a steel-toe boot to the groin, Sara said, "I have an idea. For a new weapon. A weapon to end all weapons."
Grown men wept.
Women despaired.
The eternal orgy of House Vabo ground to a halt.
Turians took stock of their armories.
The salarians locked down their hatcheries.
The whole galaxy seemed to be holding its breath.
Joker adjusted his ball cap and sighed, "Here we go again."
The Illusive Man drained his glass of scotch.
Liara whimpered. Tali wrung her hands. Garrus muttered a quick prayer. So did Ashley. It was one of those rare occasions when Jiong was grateful for his conditioning as he calmly checked his flamer. Susan forced herself to smile and be upbeat.
Pressly nodded to Miranda. Some unseen communication going between those two as they both picked up a data-pad and began making notes.
Goto could be heard muttering something about raiding Shepard's panty drawer.
Miranda on the other hand was slowly tapping her lower lip and staring ahead with a thoughtful expression on her face, murmuring: "Spare body parts? Check. Body bags? Check. WD40? Hmm, I'll have to order more." She gave Shepard a considering look. "Better stock on it."
Back on the Citadel, Donnel Udina shook his head and pulled out a bottle of Stolnichnaya. Then, he touched the omni-intercom on his desk and told his secretary: "Clear my schedule. We have political shitstorm incoming."
"Right away, sir. Should I alert the other councilors, too?"
"Oh absolutely. I wouldn't dream of ruining their days."
". . . Right."
Pel and Leng showed they were the only ones with functioning brains and promptly stood up before leaving for the hangar bay.
"I hear the Death Watch are somewhere in the Silver Rim right now," Leng told Pel conversationally. "In the spirit of revisiting old grudges I propose we go there immediately and see what the spikes are doing."
Pel gave the shorter man an astonished look. "Huh. Imagine that. An asian with a good idea."
Leng's smile sharpened. "I said grudges. Not sexual liaisons." Then he tripped Pel and derived much amusement from the resulting faceplant.
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How Shepard became a Commissar!
Commandant-General Michael Hazred was at the moment, reading on his datapad - several names of Commissars who had distinguished themselves in the Service of the Father; when one name caught his eye. A young Commissar Lancer, by the name of Sara Ying Shepard.
He activated his omni-tool to that, and contacted the Assessment Cadre - wondering why a junior Commissar, was on the list of people, who were to be raised to command-level status.
"Yes, Commandant-General?"
"Why do we have a Lancer on the list?"
"She has gone beyond the call of Our Father - reducing crime within the NYARC by 80%, rioting by 95%, child slavery by 100% and gang activity by 99% - in only six days."
"That is...unbelievable."
"...and she is also responsible for setting half of the NYARC on fire."
Hazred looked surprised at, before looking out the window, and seeing half the buildings on fire in the NYARC. Then turned back to his omni-tool.
"Give that bitch a raise!"
Mordin was in his lab working on a new type of toxic ammo for use in heavy mass accelerator weapons, specifically sniper rifles.
It looked much like a standard spool of heavy wire, however the inside of the wire was filled with concentrated SA coffee. The sniper rifle's mechanism would snip off and shape a segment as normal before loading it into the accelerator and firing it at the hapless target.
Much like Shepard's uranium hexafluoride ammo, the concentrated coffee ammo would induce toxic shock syndrome in the target, as well as horror in targets nearby.
While Garrus's typically killed his targets in one shot anyway, Shepard had insisted that the whole team be equipped with coffee based weapons because at this point it was a tradition, if not one of her team's calling cards.
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"To Shadow Broker, from Sara Shepard."
The ominous package had been found outside one of the broker's outposts, and was being scanned by a tech specialist for unpleasant surprises. Unfortunately for the specialist, the package was rigged to activate when scanned. The package burst and began spreading black nano through the building.
Within minutes, the entire building had been consumed. At that point the nanomachines were programmed to cease replication and produce SA coffee. Shortly afterward there was a giant puddle of the terrible goop where the building was previously.
In orbit, the Normandy was in full stealth, watching. Shepard ground her teeth. "No one steals my lame plot devices and lives!"
