Mass Effect; Chronicles of a Soldier

Back From the Dead

My standard form of writing applies.

" " - Spoken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Meh, he'll get better." Oh, come on, that's just cold. And yes, that is a very good quote. Think I might steal that one from you, mate. Thanks.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

#14 Ugh, not again... I want a refund

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Ah... I'm sorry, Shepard." Tali mumbled, shaking her head.

"It's not your fault, I got careless is all. And I'm sorry for earlier, Garrus. That was uncalled for." Shepard's turian friend just shrugged, and patted her shoulder.

"Perfectly understandable, Shepard. I'll go and hail the shuttle." As he walked out, Jacob followed, giving her a symathetic look. Not even a minute passed, before she got down on her knees by the dead Marine, quietly murmuring,

"God damn it all. I'm sorry, Blade..."

Though it had been years, decades, even, since the grizzled veteran had last shed tears, she couldn't hold back the first, last, and singular tear that rolled down her cheek.

All the while, she never noticed the slightest movement of his hand.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Ba-dump...Ba-dump...Ba-dump...

. . .

'Ugh,' I blearily opened my eyes, feeling nothing but pain throughout my body, as though I'd been hit by a bloody train.

Reactivation successful. Nanites reactivated. Armorsuit power restored. Kinetic barriers charging, weapon systems online. Operator functionality holding steady at 83%. All systems nominal; cleared to procede.

Man, feels like I just got run the fuck over. Just what in the nine bleeding hells hit me?

Armorsuit analysis of enemy electro-magnetic superconductor projectile complete; nanoweave has adapted, hardening against greater-intensity electro-magnetic fields. Kinetic barrier frequency optimized for increased protection from plasma- and superconductor-based munitions, as well as projectiles encased in disruptor fields, commonly found in Geth pulse rifles. Nanites adapting to compensate for after-effects of electro-magnesis.

Oh. Right, the Geth Colossus. And Shepard-

SHEPARD! Is she-?!

No matter how much it pained my aching body, I forced myself to sit up, looking around the room. Looked like another of the Quarian buildings, solid stone with a few scattered consoles and the occasional destroyed Geth.

On the far side of the room. There she was, conversing with a pair of Quarians, one of whom was the Marine we encountered earlier, just before engaging that multi-ped tank. Lucky guy survived.

Right. On your feet, Marine.

I hauled my sorry ass up, surprising myself by not stumbling, before I started for the trio. God am I stiff, and not in the good way.

System alert; medical attention recommended before next engagement. Severe electrical burns on shoulders, both arms, upper and lower back. Local anesthetic and stimulants compensating. Suit hard-seal maintained, homeostasis restored. Time for self-repair completion: 16 hours.

Ah. That explains the smell of burning flesh. Right-O, then. Onward I moved, silent as death, until I got right behind the Commander, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shepard."

Holy shit! She spun around but quick, looking she'd just seen a ghost.(She had. A big-ass, six-foot-four, armor-plated ghost)

"W-what the fuck?! Blade?!" Oh, the look on her face was just priceless, even with the helmet.

I replied with a nod. "Are you alright, Shepard?"

She gaped like a fish. "B-but, you- How?" Eheheh, she's kinda cute like this, completely clueless.

"You haven't answered my query. Are you alright, Shepard?" Man, the one Quarian is looking amused, struggling not to laugh, I'd imagine. The Marine on the other hand, looked confused.

"But you- How? You... You weren't breathing." She dumbly stuttered, still shell-shocked.

I couldn't help smiling. "There is nothing in this world or any other, that can kill a Marine. You haven't yet given me permission to die, Shepard." Wow. Now that female Quarian is snickering to herself, whereas Shepard herself is just-

Well. I'd imagine a picture of her face right now would be worth a good few laughs back on the Normandy. She was quiet for a few moments, before asking, "...Are you okay? After that hit, you were-"

I smiled once more, though she couldn't see it. "I'm fine, Commander. All systems copacetic."

Through her visor, I could see her eyes narrow with worry. "Don't lie to me, Blade. Are you okay?" Damnit. How does she-?

Update; evac shuttle is inbound. ETA four minutes.

Hmph. Right. "I will be, Shepard. The shuttle will be here soon. We should get moving." Before anything else, I remembered something. I looked to the Quarian marine, fishing in my case for that necklace. "Kal'Reegar, I do believe this is yours." I handed it to him, and even through the faceplate, I could see his expression darken.

"Ah. Keelah Se'lai, Dahk'Rayya. Thank you, human."

I inclined my head and left the Marine to his devices. As I turned and started for the door, something on the floor caught my eye.

Right by where I'd been laid down was my rifle. Heh, someone knows me too well. I picked it up as I went, slapping the clip ejector and checking the chamber, punching the door controls on my way out.

Even as I walked out, my ears perked up, just barely catching the young Quarian woman's voice.

"Heehee, I've never known you to flirt, Shepard. You have a thing for the tall, dark, and undead type, huh?" That'd be Tali'Zorah, at a guess.

"Shut up, Tali." Shepard sardonically snarked, most probably with an indignant blush, as Tali broke out into fits of giggling.

Well, this has been one hell of a day.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

The shuttle rocked back and forth as we rode up and exited haestrom's atmosphere, the five of us in the passenger compartment riding out the turbulance in silence. Even Tali, whom I pegged as a chatterbox, remained quiet.

Possibly due to the great big honking elephant in the room; me.

Jacob and Garrus were still staring at me, slack-jawed in open amazement/shock. A human takes a direct hit from a Geth Colossus, dies, and less than an hour later is up walking, talking, and acting like nothing happened. Heh, their collective expressions of disbelief were almost as amusing as Tali gossiping with the Turian when she walked outside, whispering something to him that made the sniper bust out laughing, something that was likely at Shepard's expense, seeing as the Commander turned an even darker shade of red than the stripe down her arm.

Ooh, speaking of red, Jacob had slapped himself when I stepped outside, trying to see if he was daydreaming. It was going to be hilarious hearing what Joker has to say about the handprint that now graces his cheek.

Ah, well.

As the shuttle touched down, I was already on my feet, stepping out the door and rushing through decon, anxiously waiting for the techs to finish spraying us down. I normally wouldn't mind, but Shepard had been giving me odd looks from the corner of her eye the entire way up, and I'd rather not get dragged into another of her compulsory 'therapy' sessions.

Nor do I feel like getting poked and prodded by the doc again. Yeah, I'll pass on the needles, thanks. So, gotta get through decontamination and find a shady spot to hang out until she forgets about it.

No sooner had the guys cleared us had I gotten into the elevator and found myself joined by Shepard and our newest crew member, Tali'Zorah.

Since Garrus and Jacob didn't wear hard-sealed helmets, they had to go through some extra decon procedures, heheh. Lucky me.

Anyway, up one deck and the three of us stepped out, the two of them conversing the entire way. I quietly made myself scarce, ducking down into the hold before they'd even noticed I was gone.

Like a fuckin' ninja, man.

Oddly enough, Jack was nowhere to be found. Well, no matter. I plopped down in front of the workbench, unloaded and stripped my rifle, checking it over. A few new nicks and scratches in the paintjob, but nothing remarkable, otherwise.

A few moments cleaning and making sure everything was good to go and I reloaded it, restocking my supply of thermal clips from the case of them resting under the bench. Then I switched to my sidearms, repeating the process twice more.

After, I pulled my knives and tested their respective edges, then looked over my armor, or the bits that I could see, at least. Several new chips in the paint, as well as areas that frankly looked battle-worn; the paint faded and scraped, slight dings, dents and scratches covering the surface.

Well it now looks the part of battle armor, I suppose.

A moment later, I noticed something; my rear storage case felt a bit light. I unconsciously reached back, unlatching and checking its contents. What I found left me feeling somewhat curious.

I no longer had ANY of those C12 parcels, and the rest of my things were jumbled around, as though someone had very quickly rifled through them. Huh, is that how they dealt with that Colossus? Maybe.

Agh, damnit. My back is itching like crazy, now. Almost forgot about that, electrical burns. Huh. Well, it beats broken bones any day. I checked my omni, and saw that twenty minutes have passed.

Time flies when you're monologuing, I suppose.

Better go check on that.

Stretching languidly, I strapped my pistols back on, heading up the stairs. Jack will be back eventually, and this is the first place Shepard will check when she comes looking for me.

Which will be soon enough, to be sure.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Descending the steel stairs, Shepard made a mental note to herself to have neo-rubber covers placed over the panels, to prevent people in the hold from hearing her approach as much as to help keep the crew from slipping.

Anyway, down she went, looking for her recently-deceased teammate. Whatever he might say, Shepard had checked his pulse. He'd been dead, no question, for at least half an hour. And suddenly he jumps up, good as new?

There is no way in hell, not possible. Blade lied before when he said he was just peachy, then made an ambiguous statement, that he 'would' be alright. Well, if he insists that he's fine, then he can deal with a visit to Dr. Chakwas.

'Or not,' She finished, upon finding that he wasn't in the hold.

"Great. Now where did he go?" She rhetorically snarked to herself, turning around and starting back up the stairs when a thought struck her.

Then Shepard immediately headed for the elevator, taking it down to the cargo bay, and upon stepping out, she found her quarry.

Blade was sitting on one of the crates, fiddling with the vambraces of his armor, his helmet and pauldrons already removed. He looked up and blinked, then disinterestedly went back to what he was doing.

"Shepard," He greeted, still in that monotone voice that unsettled the Commander. It reminded her of Sovereign, lacking emotion and empathy, yet filled with inflection. Such an inhuman sound... Shepard tried to ignore it as best she could, but still had to suppress a shudder than ran up her spine.

"Why aren't you in the infirmary?" This is probably about as useful as trying to carry him there, but it's worth a try.

He removed the left vambrace, starting on the right. "Because I do not require intensive medical attention, nor do I want to waste the doctor's time."

Shepard frowned. "You took a direct hit from a Colossus. Hell, you died! You shouldn't have gotten up from that, you shouldn't even be walking right now."

He looked up, levelling a stare at the Commander. "And you were spaced after being inside of a ship when it was completely destroyed. I suppose we're both 'dead men walking,' are we not?"

Scowling, she spat, "I spent two years in a coma and under intensive surgery. You got up and walked it off after an hour."

He dropped the vambrace next to its pair, and began undoing the latches that held the chestplate of his armor in place. "Don't you trust me, Shepard?"

She tried not to wince at that jibe, but retorted, "I trust you to work harder than any other sane person on this ship, but I also trust you will get yourself killed someday without someone making sure you take care of yourself."

The super-soldier nodded sagely. "That is a keen observation."

. . .

What, that's it? No other witty remarks? Man, he's changed. Wonder why?

That's when Shepard noticed the medical kit he had next to him, as well as a canister of medi-gel. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

He nodded. "For the most part. Cuts, gashes, broken bones, dislocations and bullet wounds are my field of expertise, but I've a working knowledge of how to treat burns."

Burns? Oh, crap.

"Wait, don't-!" He finished removing the main plating of his armor, pulling off the undersuit in the same motion. His eye twitched and a pained grimace passed over his expression, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

Surprisingly, Shepard didn't hear the horrid, stomache-wrenching ripping sound that she expected; instead, only a slight tearing noise, which the big man ignored. Upon dropping the upper half of his undersuit to the floor and rolling his shoulders, he asked,

"Got a mirror?"

Well, nevermind. He's as funny as ever.

With a sigh, Shepard moved over to him as she chastised, "You can't reach all that on your own. Here," Shepard plucked the medi-gel from the crate, popping open the cover with practiced ease. Spreading a generous amount of the viscous jelly, his back stiffened for a moment, but he gave no indication of pain, relief or otherwise, stating only,

"It's not as bad as it looks, I'm sure."

Minutes passed, as the Commander carefully layered on the Sirta Foundation's miracle creation onto the rough, angry red burns and freshly opened scars across his back. It surprised her that the injuries weren't worse... But these would definately scar over, alright. His armorsuit's auto-repair must be extremely advanced, or its defensive capabilities far beyond her expectations.

Shepard couldn't help feeling the hard, steel cord-like muscles that rippled under her touch, and she had to fight back the mental images that crossed her mind as she worked. 'Damnit, bad libido!'

"How's that?" She asked, mostly to distract herself, to which he responded,

"Much better. Thanks."

There was a silence, as she voiced her ulterior motives for searching him out.

"Why- Why did you do it?" It took discipline to keep her voice even, as the one thing that had been bothering her the entire trip surfaced.

"And what would 'it' be, Shepard?"

She scowled, irritated by his diversion of her questions again. "You know damn well what I mean. You knew you would get hit trying to save me."

He was quiet for several moments, before finally saying, "...I do not know the reason, Shepard. I cannot answer that."

That's as much of an answer as she could expect to get out of him on the subject.

"Don't ever throw your life away, Blade. Not for anything. You hear me?"

Though his tone never changed, Shepard could've sworn there was something different in his voice when he replied. "I hear and obey, Shepard."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

A day had passed, in which Shepard made a stop in a nearby system for a groundside op of some sort, taking Jacob and Zaeed with her for. Something about finding a missing ship. Eh.

I wound up stuck aboard the Normandy, bored out of my skull. Had a nice chat with our new Quarian crewmate, though.

Flashback

"So..." She began, trailing off as she properly worded her statement/question.

"Yes?" I responded, still fiddling with this damned thermal conduit. Thing's a bitch to fix. Ken was right about this POS, it's twitchy as all hell.

"How does it feel, being the only person who can fluster the Commander?"

?

Da fuck?

Blinking, I paused in my work. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're getting at."

The Quarian sighed, shifting to get more comfortable in the tight duct. "Keelah, you're even more dense than Garrus. You do know how she feels, right?"

I shrugged as best I could in these tight spaces. Need to start removing my pauldrons before coming down here. "Not a clue. I'm not a people person." But I've got an inkling as to how a sardine feels, right about now.

She sighed once more, starting to sound like a schoolgirl. No big surprise, she couldn't have been a day over twenty. Well, judging by her voice and mannerisms, anyway. I dunno just how Quarians age. "I guess all men are thick-headed, no matter their species."

Oy! I take offense to that. I may be pigheaded, but I'd like to think I'm better than most, damnit. But before I could make a witty retort-

"Hey, are you two done yet? You've been down there an awful long while- *Whap!* Ow!" Scotty's voice came over the radio, quickly followed by hand-on-cheek at high velocity.

"Quit making vulgar insinuations, Ken. There isn't even enough room in there for that!" Gabby scolded, sounding rather annoyed.

She shouldn't provoke him like that. "Oh? Well, why don't we go and test that theory?" He shot back, drawing a surprising reply.

"W-wait, what're you suggesting?!" She stuttered, and I could imagine the female engineer going red-faced.

" Hah! What're you getting all worked up about? You been waiting for me to ask?" His voice practically oozed lechery.

"SHUT UP, KENNETH! *WHAP!-Thumpk*"

Tali and I shared a look. "THAT, is what I meant."

...?

End Flashback

*Beat*

It was entertaining, at least. I wonder if all women practice sending out mixed signals. Eh, I'll never know.

Anyway, during my time off on RNR, I wound up getting poked and prodded by the doc regardless before I got ah, reacquainted with Miranda.

That really didnt go over so well.

Flashba-

Waitwaitwait! Hold it right there. I am NOT reliving that little slice of hell, fuck you very much. Amusing as the end of it was, I'm irritated enough as is, and her voice is damn near at the top of the list of things I don't want to deal with right now.

(No more than one flashback per chapter)

~~Badadumdunbum~~

It wasn't until late the next day that we reached our next destination. Shepard called several of us into the conference room, including myself, Garrus, Zaeed, Jack, Tali and Grunt.

Shepard stood at the far end of the table, indicating the hologram. "This, is Pragia. It's a dense tropical jungle world, and our objective is an old Cerberus facility located on its surface."

A Cerberus facility, huh?

Suddenly, images, memories flashed before my very eyes, the stench of death, decay and gunpowder filling my nostrils.

The jungle... Nine months in-country, jumping out of planes, running and gunning through that humid hellhole. Bullets flying, tracers searing blinding flashes of light into our eyes, the enemy lying in wait for us.

With nothing but each other, we were hunted by everything native to that land. Its people hunted us by day, whiles its natural predators stalked us by night. Our only constant companions were our rifles, and the insects that sought to eat us alive.

(I lied)

Garrus' voice brought me back from the memories, if only just. "We have any intel on the facility itself?" Our resident Turian asked, glancing at Shepard.

"None. We've only got a vague idea of its location, due to advanced cloaking technology that's rebuffed our attempts to scan the surface. It's supposed to be a biotic training and research facility, but we don't have anything more solid than that."

At that, Garrus chuckled. "Reminds me of our little trip to Ilios."

Tali shook her head. "Yeah, a little too much."

"Get down! SNIPER!" I swear, I could hear her voice in my head. Rachel, shouting to the rest of us the same three words that saved all our collective hides that day, so very long ago.

I... Missed part of the conversation going on around me, until Shepard addressed me herself.

"Blade. Blade, you awake?"

That startled me, but I kept myself still. "Hm? Sorry, what is it?" Blinking, I shook off the memories, forcing myself back into the present.

Shepard smirked. "Fantasizing about me again? I asked what your take on this mission was."

I shrugged. "If it's a jungle planet, then we won't need to worry about enemy armor, and air support is effectively out of the question. This is supposed to be a Cerberus facility gone dark, yes?"

She nodded.

"Then we may require someone with experience at hacking consoles and opening locked doors. As the situation stands, I would recommend a squad makeup of you, Garrus or Tali, Jack, and myself." Shepard quirked an eyebrow.

"There any basis for that?" I looked up, into her eyes.

She's just trying to get my attention; Shepard's already decided on a squad, and my guess was dead-on. Hmph. "I've a wealth of experience in jungle combat, particularly in finding traps and predicting ambushes. I also have enough explosives on-hand to make a hard entry into the facility if necessary, and once inside, my specialty in CQB would be a great advantage over any resistance we might find. Garrus' skillset as a tech expert and scout-sniper makes him an obvious choice for a multi-task role for this op, with Tali as an alternative. Jack's biotics balance out the squad evenly for dealing with dug-in targets once inside the facility itself. Then possibly Zaeed or Grunt as extra security if need be."

Just as I finished speaking, more images flashed in front of me, the stench of rot overpowering my senses as the sound of gunfire drowned out everything.

Crouched down on the blood-riddled muddy ground, hiding behind the tall elephant grass, I kept a hand on her shoulder, fingers inching to my partner's neck, frantically feeling for a pulse.

"Eheh... And I used to be bulletproof." She quietly muttered, biting back a curse as she sucked in another breath. Rachel was alive.

The coppery stench of blood was heavy in the air, saturating it like the scent of ozone during a thunderstorm. As though brought on by my thoughts, a streak of pure, bright-white light arc'd across the dark, iron-grey sky, thunder booming in the distance. It still did nothing to blot out the sound of the enemy's call-outs, nor their heavy footsteps as they scoured the area for us.

"How many?" Her voice brought me out of my thoughts, and as I looked down to the woman I cared for more than any other, I hadn't even said a word before she saw my expression. "Too many, then. It's your call. Run, fight, or surrender."

I couldn't help smiling as I shifted Rachel's bangs out of her eyes. "Do you even need to ask?"

"-P at 0500. Until then, you three get ready." Shepard finished, as I blinked and shook away the barrage of memories that assaulted my senses. The others were filing out, and I was about to follow suit when the Commander caught my arm.

"Hey." I turned, doing a double-take as I could've sworn I was looking at Rachel. After a moment, my heart slowed back down to its normal tempo, and I found that my mind was just playing tricks on me.

"Is something wrong? You seem distracted." She asked, her clear, shining cerulean eyes-

I shook my head again, blinking away whatever hallucinations were overtaking my senses. Rachel had blue eyes, Shepard's are green. What the hell?

"Blade...? Blade, what's wrong?" It wasn't Shepard's voice I heard,

But Rachel's.

I was about to answer, as pressure began building up beneath my temples, the start of a nasty headache. "It's- Nothing, Commander. Just need to clear my head. If you'll excuse me,"

Quickly making myself scarce, I slipped away from her grasp, ducking out of the room before she could call me back.

What the hell is going on?

~~Badadumdunbum~~

I went back down to the hold, checking my omni, making sure I would be alerted fifteen minutes before the designated time that we would board the shuttle.

After that, I just-

I just plopped down on my rack, pulling off my helmet and trying to piece things together.

Shepard looks rudimentarily similar to Rachel, but-

Why am I seeing her spectre in the Commander's shadow? They aren't that close in appearance. This doesn't make any sense. Am I overthinking this, or just not getting enough sleep?

Agh, fuckit. One thing at a time; on your feet, Marine. Deal with your section 8 when you don't have peoples' lives depending on you.

"Fight, kill, win... That's all you're good at. That's all you do. Fight, kill, win." I took a breath and got to my feet, cracked my neck and checked my rifle, pistols and kit, pulling my helmet back into place as I headed for the stairs.

Just then, my alarm began to blare.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

I stepped off the elevator, making my way to the shuttle. I saw the others already filing on, one in particular looking rather more subdued than usual. In fact, Jack wasn't grinning, cussing or joking at all, instead seeming to be even more distracted and out of it than I am.

But a helluva lot worse at covering it up, to boot. Huh. Wonder what's eating her ass?

I was about to step on, when someone caught my arm. Glancing back, I found Shepard in full kit, staring hard into my eyes. Even knowing full well that she couldn't see my expression, it was difficult not to flinch.

"Are you going to be alright for this mission?"

I gave a quick, curt nod. "Aye. You should worry more about your own welfare, rather than mine; I can be replaced. And what of Jack? Should she be accompanying us with her current mental state?"

Somehow, I couldn't quite read the Commander's expression. Odd. "She'll be fine."

"Dustoff in five, people!" The pilot shouted, hurrying us along.

Fair enough, then.

After takeoff, I plopped down in a seat, pulling my rifle and immersing myself in stripping and checking it over. Not a second after I'd taken my seat, Shepard was in the one next to me, and I could feel her eyes on me.

Agh, distractions. "How wide an area is the dead zone?"

Shepard's reply was odd. "Three mile dome. Looks to be a half-mile facility, multi-story with overgrowth covering most of it." Overgrowth? Hmph. Might make finding an LZ(Landing Zone) difficult.

"Hmph. Think we should drop just inside the DZ, then move in on foot? Would take time, but we'd maintain the element of surprise." I suggested, slapping my M8 back together. After all, it's easier to see a shuttle flying in rather than four stooges creeping through the underbrush.

The Commander stroked her chin, still watching me intently as she mulled it over. "It's an option."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Pilot, set us down here."

"Roger that, ma'am," He responded, taking the shuttle down lower to the surface. After weaving in and out of the trees for several moments, he levelled off some ten feet above the ground, calling, "Welcome to Pragia, boys and girls. Please exit the vehicle now via the hatch located on your left-hand side, and watch that first step, it's a doozy."

Huh. Seems our pilot has a sense of humor. Didn't know Joker also did shuttle piloting, heheh. I hit the switch, hopping out and landing in a crouch, sweeping my rifle left and right. Nothing in sight, no movement on my scanners. I stood, shouting, "Area clear."

The others dropped down next to me, and Shepard hailed our pilot over the comm. "Fly up and hover above every landing pad of the facility for half a mike each, then clear off until we call for extraction."

"Understood, Commander." And he was outta there, taking off in the general direction of the Teltin compound.

Teltin, huh?

Whatever it was, it was making Jack nervous as all hell, and that's never a good thing with biotics, or so I've found. Well, whatever. I'll deal with that later.

*Ba-DOOOOSHCKA!*

Jack jumped nearly half a foot as lightning cracked the sky, and it started to rain.

And I mean it was just pissing down on us. Really, this was juuuust great.

"Perfect timing, huh, Commander?" Garrus sniped, as he pulled on his helmet. Shepard just shook her head, not bothering. I guess since her hair was already wet, there was no point.

She shivered, then wiped her slick hair out of her face. "You said it. Blade, take point." I nodded, starting off in the direction of the Cerberus facility.

"Keep it tight; single-file, three metre intervals. Watch your sectors, eyes high and low, tree-borne predators are a menace." No one objected to my statement, so I didn't bother looking back, and kept my focus on what was ahead of me.

Trees, trees and more trees. Lots of high grass and mud, but that's to be expected. Here's hoping I don't sink too far down.

"Gah, damnit!" Royce cursed, tripping and falling flat on his face for the third time.

"C'mon, rookie, feet straight up and down. The mud is almost a foot deep," Masters told him, pulling the kid up by his collar.

I merely shook my head, turning back to the front as a snapping twig got my full attention.

Back to reality. Even through the helmet's filters, I could smell it. The scent of ozone and rain, the mud, mildew, moss and rot; the stench of the jungle. It's not something I could ever forget. All that was missing was the faint, metallic undertone of blood, with heavy tendrils of gunpowder and oil.

Then finally, the creeping reek of death and decay. But those two will only be found when we get closer to trouble. So onward I lead, eyes scanning, ears perked, muscles flexing, breathing shallow.

The raindrops impacted my visor, leaving streaks of water and small droplets to remind me that I'm wearing it, aside from the comfortable temperature and the fact that I'm completely dry. Outside had to be humid and hot, a classic tropical jungle. And my feet were still dry, so that's a plus.

Several minutes passed, and just as the water started to build up and distort my vision, a glowing line of some sort passed across my visor, the water vanishing from wherever it touched. Hm. Very nice, I like it; a space-age windshield wiper.

"Keep your eyes high and watch for snipers, these jungles are killzones for 'em." I pointedly said, meaning Shepard and Jack.

Pretty sure the Commander knew that I meant her.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Maybe half an hour of moving through the jungle, before I could see something in the distance through the trees, and held up a hand as I dropped to a knee. The others did the same, Shepard moving up next to me. "What do you see?"

I touched two fingers to the side of my helmet, right where my left ear would be. A large reticle took up the majority of my visor, showing a 12X zoom. In the distance, I saw- "The facility is two hundred-forty metres to our twelve; rear entrance is lightly guarded. I see two lookouts standing guard on the rooftop just above the door, both Vorcha."

Shepard sucked in a breath. "Vorcha? The hell are they doing here. Blood Pack?"

"No. They're apart of a different faction, no mercenary group insignia. One carrying an Avenger, the other with a shotgun. Switching to thermal." My vision was suddenly colored differently, the reticle changing slightly. "Increase magnification."

The reticle zoomed further in, and I found only those two, no unusual heat signatures inside. Something doesn't feel right about this. "I don't know, Shepard. There are no more of them within range, at the very least. We'll have to procede with caution and assume worst-case scenario from here on out." Turning to her, I let off the haptic controls built into my helmet, and took in the Commander's soggy expression.

She wiped her hair out of her face again, an oddly endearing tic. "Alright. What are you thinking?" Strange. She's delegating this to me?

Huh. Wonder what's going through her mind, right about now. As I thought that over, I noticed Shepard's hair falling back in front of her eyes, but just before she could reach up and wipe it away, I, uh, acted on instinct once more.

With all the gentle care of a tender lover,(Not by choice, but by sheer reflex, I swear) my hand moved of its own accord, carefully shifting her bangs out of her eyes, back behind her ear before she could even blink.

Her blush was worth the perplexed look she sent me. "Eliminate the sentries and go in quietly, gathering more information on enemy strength before drawing attention to ourselves. Once we know the opposition, we'll be able to efficiently set up and engage if necessary. Otherwise, our objective remains unchanged." I stopped.

And gave Shepard a tilt-headed look. "What IS our objective, by the way?"

She shook off her blush, pushing back whatever thought had just ran through her mind as she smirked and quietly replied, "We're planting a nuke in the center of the facility."

. . .

"And... Why, are we nuking a derelict compound? If Cerberus was concerned about information control, they would have acted before now. Secondly, if base destruction is a priority, why didn't we just bombard it from orbit?" I must've had one helluva funny delivery, 'cuz all I heard was a,

"Snrk-!"

I couldn't help but be puzzled when I saw that Shepard was trying oh so very hard not to laugh with this ultra-cute expression on her face, as she stared into my eyes.

Er, visor.

Oooo-kay. "Is there something on my face?" I asked,(Deadpan, of course) and she turned away, a hand over her mouth. I'll take that as a 'no,' then. Shaking my head, I looked back, waving up the others.

Once Jack and Jill- Erm, Garrus, were up next to us, I laid out my plan. "We've got two sentries on the facility roof a quarter of a klick ahead. Garrus, with me. We move up thirty metres and get set up, then we'll drop both of 'em. Shepard, Jack, watch our backs from here."

Nods from those two as I began stalking downhill through the underbrush, the Turian following close behind. Gotta get close enough to make a perfect shot, but far enough to make us invisible. And I'll need a place to set up our position, too.

Aha, there. A small slope on the hill, with a trio of large saplings and foliage for concealment. Perfect.

I gave a quick hand signal, indicating said position; Garrus returned a thumbs-up. Two minutes later and we were there, right up against the young trees.

With the utmost precision, I carefully nudged a few of the leaves out of the way, opening a narrow firing channel and I got a good look at our targets. Still clueless, milling about.

Alright, good enough.

I carefully laid down my rifle and slowly drew the M92 from my back, checking the chamber before resting the forend against the trunk of the nearest sapling. I saw Garrus doing the same, before he removed his helmet, setting it down.

"I find it easier to aim without it," He quietly remarked, having noticed my stare. I acknowledged that with a nod, and turned back to the task at hand, taking a calming breath.

The downscope reticle came up, showing me what my rifle was 'seeing.' After giving it a moment to adjust for the humidity, windage and distance, I set the crosshairs on the right-hand Vorcha's head, and glanced at Garrus.

He gave an almost impercepitable nod, and I quietly said, "Wait for the thunder. On my mark." He got on-target, and waited for my signal, while I cast my gaze to the sky, subconsciencely keeping my rifle dead-set on that poor bastard's skull.

I waited.

Forty seconds. Seventy.

There, the briefest flash of light!

"Two. One. Mark." He responded instantly, as did my own muscles; just as we both squeezed our respective triggers, firing within nanoseconds of one another as lightning cracked the sky.

And in the mere second and a half it took for the sound of thunder to roll-

*Powfuh-OOOOOOMSHCAaaaa!*

Two slugs flew out faster than the speed of sound, impacting both Vorcha dead between the eyes; they both fell in that instant, dead. Both Vakarian and I waited the next tense twenty seconds, anxiously awaiting the sound of an alarm, gunshots, or something else untoward.

Nothing. After another thirty, I pulled back, ejecting the clip and smothering it into the muddy earth before returning the weapon to my back and picking up my M8.

Garrus picked up his helmet, holstering his Mantis in the same movement. "Nice shot," He remarked, pulling the blue armorpiece into place.

"Same goes to you, Vakarian. Let's get down there before they change out the guard." He nodded, and we both started downhill, hailing the Commander as we went.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Twenty metres past the base of the hill, and we hit another little, ah, 'snag.'

"Hm? Damn." I stopped and called another halt, waving the others up.

Shepard was right on my heels. "What is it?"

"Defense grid. Fence of some sort, choked by overgrowth. Climbing is easy enough, but..." As I trailed off, looking over the large, tall, metallic structure, I figured it had to be electrified, judging by the blackened plants that ran along the base of the fence.

Plus all the wiring kinda tipped me off. Anyway.

"You aren't sure if it's got power running to it. Right." As she spoke, and was about to call Garrus up, I unconsciencely switched my visor to thermal imaging, scanning the fence.

Hm. It's the same temperature as the enviornment, so there's no active charge. Seeing as it's raining, a passive charge wouldn't be very smart, regardless. "Shepard? I don't think it's got power at the moment. Thermal signature isn't not hot enough."

There is currently no electrical current within defense barrier; wiring and circuits have eroded past serviceability.

Oh. Well that's useful, thanks.

"No charge? Are you sure?"

In response, I walked up to the fence, placing a hand on its metal surface.

. . .

Nothing. I glanced back, and shrugged. The Commander was just shaking her head, moving closer as I grabbed the metal slats, and began to climb.

After I got to the top and straddled it, I looked back down to the others and offered my hand, pulling Shepard up from under her arms and setting her on the other side, making sure she'd gotten ahold of the fence before turning back to do the same for Jack.

Those two were the easy part, of course. Garrus was considerably heavier, and had a much more difficult time trying to climb the fence, which was far less accomadating to his larger fingers and toes.

"Agh, always with the climbing," He muttered, hauling himself up before I lifted him up by the collar of his armor.

Suffice to say, it was the first time I'd ever seen a Turian's eyes bug out of their skull, heheh.

Once he was climbing(Read: Falling) down the other side, I hopped over and jumped down into a crouch, feeling-

*Puhl-Crunchk!*

...?

I glanced down, and saw that the tiling or whatever the stuff they placed over the ground inside the fence was, had cracked and shattered under my knee from the impact. Hm. That reminds me, just how much does this armor weigh? Hundred kilos? Probably double that, plus my own one-ten. Damn, I feel fat.

"I think you might want to lose a little weight," Garrus snarked, eliciting a smirk and a snicker from the other two.

Eh, no accounting for taste.

I simply stood with a shrug, moving for the nearby door; it was no more than ten feet away. We all stacked up, myself on left, Shepard just behind me, while the other two had the other side.

"Crossover entry on my go," I said, taking a breath before checking the chamber of my rifle, flicking the selector to auto, and double-checking the door. It had power, and so did the thermal masking system, so it's a safe bet to say that the lighting still works. Perhaps we could cut power to the entire base, might make things easier.

I held up a hand.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Mark!" Garrus smacked the door switch and the moment it was open a crack, I was already rushing inside, rifle at the ready, my heart pounding.

Right, front, center, high, low, left. Clear.

I gave the room a full sweep, moving forward and checking behind the single crate inside. "Room clear, no movement."

Just as Jack stepped inside, I saw her shiver. What's wrong with her? She didn't get sick from being out in that storm, I hope.

Well, whatever. "VI, expand to one-fifty."

My motion tracker shifted to the center of my visor, scanning the area.

Hm? Nine unknowns. Wait, scratch that. Seven Vorcha, two unknowns.

Damn. "Contacts! Squad, keep an eye out for tripwires and motion sensors. We definitely aren't alone."

Shepard looked my way, a serious look in her normally-jovial, happy-go-lucky(halfway seductive) features. "How many?"

"Seven hostiles, two unknowns." Just as I spoke, I saw the two closest, unknown blips begin moving towards us.

Fast.

"...And those unknowns are headed our way. Prepare for contact."

And so, the four of us set in for a fight, myself positioned just around the corner from the door they'd be coming through.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Before anyone asks, baseline functionality for combat applications is 16%, enough to stumble to cover and hold a gun steady long enough to pull a trigger. Anything below is critical condition, at the point where you've probably lost one limb or more and are quite content to just bleed out quietly.

Also, can you find the book reference in this chapter? I can't bloody remember the title of the book, so if you notice it and know, please share! It was a really good book, damnit. Also, there is a Last Days of Foxhound shout-out, to anyone who enjoys that funny-ass little webcomic. Highly reccommend looking it over.

There is also a reference to the video game Star Wars: Republic Commandos, if you're keen enough to notice. That was a friggin' AWESOME game way back when. Only wish they'd made a sequal, damnit.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Commander Shepard; inspired by Captain James T. Kirk, of Star Trek. Where the Captain/Commander gets ALL the action, yeah.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"The mainstays of any true revolutionary are blood, sweat, and hope." -Unknown

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"If violent crime is to be curbed, it is only the intended victim who can do it. The felon does not fear the police, and he fears neither judge nor jury. Therefore what he must be taught to fear is his victim." -Jeff Cooper. Very true.