Chapter 21

Shadow War: Humility and Murphy

"Treason, Terrorism, and Revolution. There is a very fine line dividing them all. It does not take much, for one to become other. "

-Professor Micheal Donovan, Director of Criminal Justice of New Alexandria College

High Admiral Datak Korra was the most powerful person in the Batarian Hegemony. Although he was technically outranked by the President of the Hegemony, and answered to the Supreme Senate, in reality Korra did largely as he pleased. The military had dominated the regime for generations, and as head of the military, Datak set the tone for the entire Hegemony.

The old batarian soldier was large and battle scarred with an even more fearsome reputation. He was the victor of over a hundred battles, and was said to be the only batarian alive that Councilor Wrex respected, if only for his skill and experience. According to rumor, he had once taken down a battlemaster armed with nothing but a spoon, some rope, and his wits (which might have something to do with why Wrex respected him).

Datak had dominated the Hegemony for decades, its ever more aggressive stance was largely at his direction, and the political maneuvering that had allowed it to escape the consequences of such actions was also largely due to his influence.

As a result, admiral Korra was the obvious one for the leaders of the asari, krogan, turian, and salarian special forces to meet with once they were sent to the Hegemony, to help put down the slave rebellion. Of course, due to his malignant influence on Citadel politics the battlemasters, commandos, STG operatives, and Blackwatch members currently in the high admiral's office would have gladly seen him dead. Unfortunately for all concerned, these were not normal circumstances.

"You've been in the Hegemony for almost a month...have you made any progress in tracking down the terrorists and their human masters?" Datak coldly asked.

The STG commander shook his head no. "We have been making some progress, but nothing on the scale desirable." Seeing the raised eye ridge, the salarian continued. "These terrorists are operating in cells, each divided from the rest, and knowing only what they are told. It's made it difficult, though not impossible, to track the cells down."

The asari commando leader added, "We've been tracking down cell after cell, but we're basically nibbling at these terrorists. Whoever is in charge of all of them, is not just smart, but strategically brilliant. They've made it damn difficult to take down the whole organization, unless the leadership is taken out. Who might as well be a Prothean, for how well they've hidden themselves."

Datak Korra looked critically at the aliens arrayed before him. Knowing that these were exactly the sort of people the Salarian Union, Krogan Empire, Turian Hierarchy, or even Asari Republics might have sent to eliminate him under other circumstances. Grimly amused at the situation as he said. "Do you know what would happen if the Hegemony fell at human hands?"

"You mean aside from the death of a corrupt and abominable government that should have fallen centuries ago?" One of the krogans answered, drawing more than a few grins and approving looks from his peers.

"If your people really cared about our CORRUPTION, krogan they would have done something about it centuries ago...but that's not important...the important thing IS if the humans successfully steal the Hegemony from us all the other Associate Races will lose faith in your ability to protect them...it will also embolden the apes to commit further acts of aggression against you...it will probably only be a matter of time until they sign MUTUAL PROTECTION treaties with groups like the hanar or even volus assuming that they don't simply outright conquer them...and once they have dealt with all the Associate Races they will come for the krogan, turians, salarians, and even the poor asari." Datak explained with a sneer, his extensive facial scars making the expression even more ugly.

The commandos all scowled at the thought, despite whatever their personal feelings may have been, they couldn't deny that Datak was right on all counts. If the humans managed to bring down the Hegemony, from within no less, than how long would it be before they turned their attention elsewhere?

As no one tried to argue his point, Datak continued. "So, considering what you have all said, the usual methods for taking down terrorists such as these, are obviously useless. That being said, we need a new plan. Do any of you have any suggestions?"

"Long term the only solution to prevent unrest is reform your system of slavery...short term however you must make the people hate the rebels more than their government" Kirrahe concluded.

Datak snorted, "The first is all but impossible, as you all are well aware. Asking us to change that, is the same as asking your people to change your faiths. The second however, is easily achieved. The terrorists will do that for us, they already have been since the beginning." This was true, the majority of rebel atrocities had simply been kept from becoming public knowledge, something that Datak was now planning on changing.

"Until we know more our best strategy is decapitation...kill the heads of the Rebellion, and the body should die afterward." the oldest battlemaster there added.

"Then we can begin planning our counterattack against the UNSC." Datak Korra replied with a vicious grin.

When the special forces people looked back at him in confusion or disbelief, knowing just how much humanity outgunned the Council Races, Datak explained. Telling them, "All out war may not be necessary, or even winnable. But if we don't strike back now, they will simply keep on attacking us. We must show them that there is a cost to their aggression."

The elite warriors nodded in agreement at that. Although Korra didn't think of it that way, his own regime was a prime example of that. The batarians had abused their neighbors for centuries because nobody had been motivated and/or strong enough to make them stop. Now these humans seemed to think that they could do the same.

It was their job to prove the humans wrong.

**APUFMKII**

Hidden across Khar'Shan, safe houses had been set up by the dozens by the Rebellion, at the behest of John. These safe houses were the only locations that the Rebels could find safe refuge, for obvious reasons. Each cell within the Rebellion having access to a total of four safe houses, or least knowledge of them. Few if any safe houses were shared, and all were thought to be secure and hidden from the Hegemony.

At least that was the assumption.

Inside one of the safe houses, this one closer to Overseer City, a group of rebels were relaxing, having just returned after a quick hit and run against the local police department headquarters. Nothing major, as they would consider it. Just a few skycars blown-up with some homemade explosives, along with the station's courtyard and lobby. They had been and in out before most anyone could realize what was happening.

Two of them, turians, were sharing a drink over their success. "Did you see the looks on their faces! Those bare-faced bastards got what they deserved!" His companion laughed uproariously. "I mean, just one little chain explosion, and they're all running like scared brats! Ha!"

Across from the pair, the rest of their fellow rebels were patching what wounds they had, were stocking away their weapons, or taking off their armor. After all, they no reason to think they would be attacked here, right?

But their optimism was misplaced. A squad of STG operatives had been tailing the rebels for days. Studying their movements, learning their ways, and evaluating their defenses. Preparing for just the right moment to attack.

"I tell you our luck's finally changing for the better" the turian rebel continued to boast as salarian covert operatives snuck into the base. Sharing a drink with his comrades as they toasted their success.

He was far from the only rebel getting drunk. Heady with the taste of victory the rebels were celebrating; eating, drinking, and (in a few cases) fornicating. The entire thirteen person cell had let their guard down.

Outside, a number of STG gathered around the safehouse door. "Alpha team, in position." One of the squad moved up the door, planting a small sphere on the door. "Ready to breach and clear."

Across from the safe house, two sniper/spotter teams were watching the rebels from their perches, their targets completely unaware of their presence. "Overwatch in position."

"Take them out." Inside, one of the rebels was taking a swig from a bottle when a high-powered rifle round blew his head off.

"NO!" Vorok Tremen, the male batarian who was the leader of the rebel cell screamed as he saw his friend shot down. Grabbing a gun and leaping for cover as a round from a sniper just missed him. Others died as more rounds perforated the safe house, ripping through windows and bodies.

Outside, the STG team finally got their orders. "Breach and clear!" With a deafening boom, the door was blasted into the room, decapitating one unfortunate rebel as it sliced into a wall through sheer force. Barely, did anyone realize what was going on as three tiny spheres were tossed into the room, before letting out a deafening screech and a flare brighter than a dozen suns, blinding everyone inside.

The STG team rushed inside, "LOWER YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER!" a mechanically magnified voice shouted at Tremen and few other rebels trying to get on their feet. But while the rebels lacked training or professionalism, they were certainly not deficient in courage. Despite being blinded, none of them even considered surrendering, although that was partially due to the fact that a fate worse than death awaited them if they were turned over to the batarian authorities.

"FUCK YOU!" Vorok screamed at the heavily armed salarians slowly advancing on him and the two other upright rebels through the abandoned building serving as their safe house. Ironically enough, both his comrades were salarians themselves.

But neither of them had combat training and it showed. The fact they were still discombobulated by the flashbangs didn't help. Spraying with their weapons in the general direction of the door, their shots went wild. At the show of resistance, the STG team peppered them with shots, taking them down just as quickly as when they had entered. Suddenly Vorok Tremen stood alone. The batarian screamed in defiance and prepared to charge the salarians, only to gape in shock as one of them literally shot his gun out of his hand.

That remarkable display of marksmanship, combined with suddenly finding himself unarmed and alone, took most of the wind out of Vorok's sails. As he realized just how utterly outclassed he truly was. Expecting to be shot dead at any moment, or be taken prisoner.

But to his surprise, the salarians talked to him instead.

"Vorok Tremen. We have an offer for you: Protection, in exchange for your knowledge of the Rebellion."

"And if I refuse, you'll just kill me? Go ahead." Vorok sneered. He, like everyone else involved in the Rebellion, did not fear death as they used to.

The STG squad commander didn't flinch at the insinuation. "No..WE, will not do anything. Should you refuse the offer, we shall simply turn you over to the Hegemony. Comply, and we will keep you hidden from them." The squad leader told him coldly.

Vorok stared at the salarian in horror. He knew of what the Hegemony would do if they got their hands on him. Their information collection agents had a notorious reputation of getting whatever information they wanted, and breaking their victims. If they got their hands on him, the least he could expect would be them tormenting him until he begged for death and squeezing him for information until he popped.

The batarian thought about trying to provoke the salarians into killing him. It would mean the others would die as well, but be spared the torture at the hands of the Hegemony.

As though sensing his thoughts however, the squad leader also added, "And those here with you as well."

"What?" Vorok muttered as he looked around. Aside from the turian and few others, the majority of those here were still alive, evidenced by how they were frog-marched from their rooms by STG, some barely dressed or totally naked.

"Work with us, and the Hegemony will believe you all to be dead. Refuse, and we will hand you over to them."

Vorok Tremen was prepared to die. He was even prepared to send his comrades to their deaths. But the thought of ending up in the custody of Hegemony filled him with terror.

"What do you want to know?" Vorok whispered in defeat.

Behind his polarized helmet, the STG squad leader smiled. "Everything."

**APUFMKII**

Jella Korragan moaned as Cara T'Val kissed her between the thighs. Running her hands lightly over the asari's crest as the maiden pleasured her. The two naked females (Jella didn't care what anybody said, as far as she was concerned the asari were girls) writhing against each other as they made love.

Actually the fact that Cara was a girl was a point in her favor, as far as Jella was concerned. After being sexually abused by her master, the thought of being intimate with another male filled Jella with fear and loathing. But Cara's blue body was far less threatening than an aroused male's. Korragan was intrigued by her lush curves and ardent moans. Moreover, through their Melds Cara could share her desire and pleasure with the batarian. Turning every kiss and caress into a shared experience.

It was a lovely moment.

Ruined by John Doe violently bursting into the room.

"Hello John here to join us?" Cara purred at the Spartan as she realized who it was. Her earlier animosity towards the soldier forgotten at the moment. Guiding Jella to a blue breast as her eyes took on an ebony hue.

Under any other circumstances, most men, and women, would have taken up Cara on her offer. The Spartan however, was all business.

Ignoring the scene before him, John just said, "Get dressed, both of you. We've abandoning this site." Without any further explanation, the Spartan left the room, leaving the pair thoroughly confused.

Nevertheless they trusted John, for the most part, they still had some reservations after learning of his humanity from that incident. However they may have felt about being barged in on, they both knew John wouldn't do anything so rash without reason. So they rapidly got dressed. Jella making sure that neither left the room until they were both wearing far more weapons than clothes.

"What's going on John?" Jella demanded to know as she left the room. Around them, others were clearing out the safe house, grabbing weapons, ammo, and whatever else they could take with them. Whatever they couldn't, was being thrown into corner to be destroyed. Thermite charges were being prepped to burn the material to be left behind. Realizing that John was more focused on cleaning house, Jella shouted. "John!" Finally getting the super-soldier's attention, she asked again. "Just what is going on!"

"We're under attack." John said.

"Wait, right now?" Jella all but shouted, reaching for her rifle when she felt John put a hand on her shoulder.

"No, not here. Not right now." Jella almost collapsed in relief, only for that feeling to be replaced by dread. "It's the Rebellion. Someone is systemically targeting us. Wiping us out, cell by cell. We've lost contact with almost thirty cells already."

"Is it the Hegemony?" Cara asked, feeling terrified at the thought of the Hegemony getting their act together.

John shook his head. "If only it were so simple." Taking a moment to assist a rebel with a thermite charge, he turned back to lovers. "Whoever this is, they are on a whole other level. Far more skilled and coordinated than the Hegemony could ever be."

"So what do we do until then?"

"We fall back, regroup, until we find out just who and what were are dealing with."

"And then?"

John paused, looking the pair in the eyes. Both shuddered at the aura of power the Spartan projected. "Counterattack." With a single word, both women were absolute in the belief that the Spartan, even not knowing his targets, would take the fight to their unknown enemies and destroy them, whoever they were.

**APUFMKII**

Spartan Kelly-087 was like a geist as she moved through the slums of Overseer city, hiding within the shadows, and moving with barely a whisper. As the fastest of the Spartans, along with Linda-058, the elite of elite snipers of humanity, she was usually the one conducting recon of locations for the Spartans.

The slums, the lowest levels of the city. Just a hair above the sublevels, the area stank of filth and unwashed bodies, the buildings obviously old and in a state of ill repair. An atmosphere of misery, fear, and quiet desperation seemed to dominate the slums. Filling the female Spartan with an odd mixture of pity and contempt.

Despite all the physical and mental hardship she had endured during her training, Kelly had always known that she (along with the other Spartans) was special and valued, they were meant to be the Protectors of Earth and All her Colonies. That was the reason/excuse they were given for the hardships they endured as part of the Spartan Program. But these people were ignored at best and treated as scum at worst by their own society and government, without the excuse of an greater good to take solace in.

Right now, the reason for her being here was that she was tasked with the searching of potential safehouse and dead drop locations, along with any potentials to recruit into the Rebellion, in this area. So far, the results had been less than promising. On both accounts.

In terms of potential recruits, all of those she had found were either too broken or too old to be of use or aid to the Rebellion. Many of them were broken by the Hegemony that even if the opportunity to enact retribution was given to them, at best, they would not take it. At worst, they would call the Hegemony.

She had more luck finding dead drop locations for intel and supplies. Locations where supplies could stocked for a quick grab, but nothing to serve as a safe house. Either there was too great a risk of discovery, or was an obvious deathtrap, having almost no secondary exits, or too easily turned into a killbox: a location where it would be easy to focus fire on. The nearest rebel cell was supposed to meet with Kelly soon, to give her insight into the area, but she doubted it would be an real help.

'Goddamn it...these batarians are so cheap you can't even trust the floor.' Kelly thought as she realized the ground was groaning under her feet. The extremely weathered concrete having not been maintained in the slightest since it had been first lain. Taking another step forward, the concrete crumbled under her half ton weight. She managed to utter, "Oh crap." as the ground gave way.

Kelly fell over two dozen feet, and two sublevels, only her armor preventing the fall from seriously injuring her. Hitting floor with thud as she grunted in pained surprise. Wearily getting up only to realize that she was surrounded by blue faces.

"Oh shit, ambush!" Kelly and the twenty four asari commandos exclaimed in unison. The commandos having just established this safe house in the old sewer system beneath the slums. And assuming that the human soldier literally dropping in on them was a deliberate attack.

"What kind of crazy bitch falls down a hole just to get the drop on someone!" The leader of the commandos swore as she opened fire. One of her subordinates answering the rhetorical question.

"That crazy bitch!" As she hit Kelly with a biotic warp, only for the dark energy to splatter apart as it impacted the Spartan's shields, making them shimmer gold.

"These asari weakened the floor so I would literally fall into their trap" Kelly thought as she got her bearings back, her HUD blaring at her about her depleting shields as they weathered the torrent of fire. As her body finally realized what was happening, her body surged with adrenaline, her reflexes kicking in and time appearing to slow down as she entered 'Spartan Time'.

Forgoing her pistol, Kelly charged forward, seizing a commando in front of her by the neck and spinning her around. Snapping the asari's neck even as she used the body as a meat shield.

"Fuck, it got Kisala!" A commando screamed, "How the hell is it so fast!?" To the Commandos, the human had been barely a blur. One moment it had been on its back, the next, one of their friends was dead! To the commandos, it was like a biotic charge!

Kelly dropped the perforated body, sprinting to another pair of asari, an arm outstretched. Clotheslining one of them, taking her head clean off, while grabbing the other one again, using them as a shield in at attempt to give her shields a chance to recharge.

What Kelly had no way of knowing though, was the way that many of the surviving commandos were analysing her movements. She had the best training that the UNSC could give any of its soldiers. But all the commandos she was facing literally had, by human standards, several lifetimes worth of combat experience. When she took out another commando with a shot to the face she unknowingly gave away a bit of her fighting style. Allowing her next intended victim to anticipate and dodge the follow up attack.

"Everybody aim for center mass and use your biotics!" The squad leader ordered her surviving troops. "Get that thing off the ground! Don't let it move!" Even as she shouted this, six more of her troops were cut down with precise headshots, the Spartan moving to avoid being locked on.

'Who are these people?' Kelly thought to herself as she kept moving to avoid being shot. 'How were they able to dodge me?' Rarely has she ever encountered someone since her augmentation capable of dodging her unless she allowed it. As she tried to sprint to another target, she found herself floating in the air. "What the?!" Kelly shouted in shock.

Around her, six of the commandos had dropped their weapons, their faces grimacing in concentration, biotics flaring as they lifted the half ton Spartan into the air. "This thing is heavy!" One of the Commando's cried. "I don't know how much longer we can hold it!" Some of the asari had blood dripping down from their noses from the exertion.

The rest of the surviving commandos opened fire, all targeting the same small area on Kelly's torso where her armor looked weakest. The Spartan's HUD warning her that the structural integrity was becoming dangerously compromised thanks to concentrated and sustained fire aimed at her torso.

Kelly drew her pistol and tried to turn so she could aim at one of the blue glowing she was experiencing was close to zero-gravity, but damned different as well. Still, it just meant she had to compensate. Pieces of the armor began flying off as the concentrated fire finally took its toll.

'Damn it! I need to get out of this!' Realizing that trying to take them out one by one was not happening, she reached into her belt. Grabbing two spheres before pressing their buttons, igniting them in a blue flame before throwing it at the closest asari.

The unfortunate commando screamed as the grenades attached to her. "GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!" The powerful adhesives burning through her armor and flesh. Giving her just long enough to truly panic before detonating.

At ground zero, flesh, metal and stone were vaporized in a instance by super-heated plasma. The asari it had stuck to and those closest to them, wiped from existence before the plasma could cool. The survivors diving into the sewage as their clothes and skin flash-ignited from the plasma superheating the air.

Kelly crashed to the floor again. She assumed that the battle would be easier now, very few people ever recovered quickly from a point-blank encounter with a plasma grenade unless they were veterans. But the leader of the commandos was made of sterner stuff than her followers, her centuries of experience helping recovery far more quickly than any human. Even though she was covered in her comrades blood and her clothes were burning she remained on the offensive. Using her powers to their uttermost to hit Kelly with a Reave just as she touched the ground.

Kelly screamed as the biotic attack began to scramble her very nervous system, her shields shattered by the plasma, went right through her armor. Attacking her body and mind directly. Her armor and cybernetic enhancements actually making her more vulnerable to the assault, due to how MJOLNIR armor responds to thoughts and well as physical action. Her armor began to spasm, her left arm and right leg began to spasm wildly with the armor, tearing muscles and cracking the nearly indestructible bones beneath them.

The strain of overusing her biotics (when she was already injured) on the asari matron was obvious. Blood was flowing freely from her nose, and began to run from her eyes and mouth. Nevertheless her example had inspired her five remaining squadmates, who also attempted to hit the Spartan with Reave attacks.

"Take the monster down now!" Before any of the commandos could fulfill the order, a headshot took out the squad leader. As the rebel cell that Kelly was supposed to meet at this exact time, gathered around the hole the Spartan had fallen through.

The asari commandos were elite warriors with centuries of combat experience, the best gear available to their people, and in most cases a well developed killer instinct. But they were tired, wounded, in many cases their equipment was heavily damaged, and all their attention was focused on Kelly. As a result, the rebels were able to easily shoot them down.

Diving into the sewers, the rebels moved to assist the Spartan. It takes four of them to get her back on her feet. "You okay ma'am?" One of them asked.

"Just get me back to John and I'll be fine." She answered, getting dubious looks from all of them. Her shields were fluctuating from the contact, her armor was cracked and dented but largely intact, and there were more than a few places that was leaking blood. But they didn't say anything.

If Kelly's brain hadn't felt like it was on fire, she might have appreciated the the irony of being saved by the very kind of people that she was feeling sorry for and superior to mere minutes ago. But probably not. Even Spartans were usually all too human.

**APUFMKI**

-Warning: Graphic scene imminent-

-Refer to next bracket to avoid graphic scene-

However, compared to other humans involved in Operation Spartacus Kelly was relatively fortunate.

In a secret Hegemony prison facility miles under Overseer City a special interrogation was taking place. As the batarians and their STG allies questioned the first ONI agent unlucky enough to fall into the hands of the Hegemony. A man who had let his guard down while on Khar'Shan, assuming that the local 'primitives' were no real threat (now he would most likely pay for his hubris with his life).

"Hey, wake up!" The Hegemony interrogator jabbed the firestick into the human's side, making him scream in pain. "That's better."

Peter Clark glared at his tormentor. Although if Peter was honest, he had only himself to blame for being in his predicament. He had wandered away from his team when he heard there was an alien brothel nearby. But the man had immediately lost interest upon realizing that none of the 'girls' at the brothel were asari, and all of them were obviously miserable (and quite possibly diseased) slaves.

However, on Peter's way back to the safehouse something had knocked him out. When he had awoken up a little while later, Clark had found himself, naked, unarmed, chained, and blindfolded. The blindfold hadn't been taken off until he reached this cell filled with implements of torture. Now he was at the mercy of beings that he was increasingly coming to realize had none.

"Don't be so rough with this one." The STG operative chided, "He's the only one we've gotten so far that wasn't just some random mongrel."

"Pain will loosen his tongue...it always does." The batarian interrogator said with a sadistic laugh. Looking at how the naked human male was bound (with his arms chained above his head and his feet secured to the floor, leaving his entire body vulnerable and exposed) appreciatively.

Solik Gurji eyed his fellow interrogator with barely hidden distaste. While Solik was willing to inflict pain on the Salarian Union's enemies to fulfill his missions, he was not a sadist. Zo'or Blanca's obvious enjoyment at tormenting the human disgusted him. "Just don't go overboard. He dies, we're back to where we began."

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you." Zo'or retorted. "Now then, human…" His fingers danced across the tools arrayed on the table. "We're going to play a little game: tell me what I want to know...and maybe, you'll die with some dignity intact." Hearing something clicking away, finding the source as the human itself. "Don't bother with your implant. Whatever it was, we got it already. See?" To prove his point, he shook a jar in front of the agent, the object inside clinking away.

Peter Clark shuddered as he realized that his captors had deprived him of his 'easy' way out. Like all ONI agents who did field work he had been implanted with a cyanide capsule inside a false tooth. That way that they could easily commit suicide if they were captured, rather than by tortured for ONI secrets. But now that path was closed to him.

"I told you before...I'm just a smuggler who wanted to sample Overseer City's nightlife...frankly I was looking for some decent alien pussy when you snatched me off the street." Clark said as sincerely as he could.

"A smuggler with a false tooth loaded with a fast acting poison?" Solik snorted. "Yes, and I'm just a simple militiaman. Do not try to lie to me, I know a peer when I see one."

Seeing that keeping up the ruse was a fool's errand, the agent dropped the act. "Then what the hell is he?" Peter asked with a bitter nod towards Zo'or.

"Technically I'm a military interrogator...but I prefer to think of myself as an artist...taking the raw materials my superiors give me and turning it into something pleasing in their eyes" Zo'or replied mildly as he studied his tools. Deciding whether he wanted to use the tools that were sharp, the ones that were hot, or implements of torture that were both hot AND sharp. "Now then...before we get started let me prepare the subject so he knows the medium were working with" Without any hesitation, Zo'or stabbed the firestick to Clark's neck, magnifying the pain tenfold.

When the interrogator removed the firestick, Solik grabbed the human by the neck before he could gasp in relief. "To start, I want to know how many of you are there?"

Looking the STG agent in the eye, the agent answered. "Clark, Peter. Second Lieutenant. Service number: 01855-33745-CP."

"Enough personal trivia…I want to know how many people the Office of Naval Intelligence brought to Hegemony space" Zo'or said casually as he used the pain stick on Clark again.

"Clark, Peter. Second Lieutenant. Service number: 01855-33745-CP."

Zo'or responded with a grunt of annoyance and by violently pushing the firestick into Clark's genitals. Smiling in satisfaction as the man howled in pain.

"Stop that you could kill him." Solik warned.

"Pfft! Firestick's don't kill, or does the glorious STG not know that? It's only the nerve endings, and I know when to stop so that he doesn't go into shock."

The salarian merely shook his head, and turned to the naked, bound man. Noticing that the human had relieved himself when Zo'or had stabbed him in the dick. Telling the human "Please spare yourself further pain and humiliation by cooperating. Now tell me: how many people did your group bring to batarian space?"

It took Peter a moment to catch his breath, but once he did he went on the offensive again. Saying to the salarian, "Millions. We are everywhere, and the Hegemony will be overthrown by this time tomorrow" Clark bluffed with false bravado. Glaring at Zo'or as he said "One of my buddies with probably come by and shove that sex toy up your ass."

"And then what? Is that the worst you can do?" Zo'or snarled, grabbing a small tub on one of the tables before pouring it's contents on Clark's legs. The ONI agent started screaming as the acid began eating away at his skin and muscle, the acid congealing with the blood, leaving the flesh exposed to the open air.

"YOU FUCKING FOUR EYED FREAK!" Clark screamed in pain and rage. Wishing with all his heart that he had a weapon to strike down his tormentor. "When I get free, I'm going to carve out your eyeballs!"

Solik Blanca just stood in shock. Amazed at how quickly Zo'or had moved from merely inflicting pain to outright mutilation. Hating the fact that circumstances forced him to ally with such a bloodthirsty sadist.

"How many of you are there?" Zo'or asked again.

When Clark remained defiantly silent, the batarian grabbed another container of acid. Saying with a mock sigh, "Well if this is really what you want?"

"I DON'T KNOW!...I don't know...I'm just a low level grunt...they don't tell me that kind of thing!" Peter Clark admitted. Hating himself for his weakness, but terrified of getting splashed with acid again.

"Guess!" Zo'or hissed as he jabbed Clark in the torso with the firestick.

"Umm...a few hundred, maybe..." "Look, I'm just a damn field agent. We get told on a need to know basis! Compartmentalization, you ever heard of it?"

"What is your overall mission here?...Why are humans in the Hegemony at all?" Solik asked, reluctantly acknowledging Zo'or's brutish methods seemed to be working.

"To get rid of...people like him." Clark replied as looked (yet tried not to look) at Zo'or. Saying in almost pleading tones to Solik "were not trying to take batarian space away from you...just get rid of the Hegemony."

"So you can set up a client state in Council space" Solik thought aloud. His voice suddenly cold and unsympathetic.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? The only thing I got told was that we're going to take it down from the inside out. After that, I don't give a damn."

"Just following orders right...well I can respect that." Zo'or said cheerfully as he gently touched the firestick to one of Clark's testicles.

Peter screamed so loudly in agony it hurt Solik's ears. The ONI agent feeling as though Zo'or had scorched his balls. Howling in frustration "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU I'M ANSWERING THE DAMN QUESTIONS!"

"Oh, I know. This is just something I like doing. A batarian can enjoy his job, after all."

"What can you tell us about your comrades immediate plans?" Solik asked, playing the 'good cop' just by virtue of not being an overeager sadist.

"Immediate?...the only thing I can think of is that one of the Spartans is supposed to lead a raid on a military base in the Historic district, today or tomorrow." Peter admitted, honestly having little idea how much time he had spent in batarian custody.

Zo'or snarled, "You lie!" Ditching the firestick, he stabbed the agent in the shoulder with an acid-gat. A device that released a slow-acting acid once inside a body. It only lasted as long as the gat was impaled, but it caused serious pain, going in and coming out. It was rarely used as it left a disfiguring mark.

Grabbing ahold of the gat, Solik ripped it from Clark's shoulder and Zo'or's grasp. "What's the matter with you! What did he say to anger you like that!?"

"The military base in the Historic district, it's one of the most heavily fortified on the planet...nobody would dare attack it NOBODY!" his pride as a batarian soldier and loyal citizen of the Hegemony offended by the very idea.

"The Salarian Union probably would if we ever went to war with the Hegemony and I'm sure so would the turians and krogan...assuming an important facility will never been attacked only makes such a situation more likely." Solik retorted.

"I doubt these cowards have the balls or the guns to strike at such a target, but we'll let the higher ups know." Zo'or capitulated before turning his attention back to Clark. "Now then…" He picked up a splicer, a nasty tool that worked under the victim's skin, leaving only internal marks. "Let's find out what else you in that pretty little head of yours…"

-End of Graphic Scene-

Over the next few hours, Zo'or and Solik questioned Peter Clark over ONI tactics, equipment, and resources. Clark gave them a mixture of truth, lies, and outright guesses. The fact of the matter was, he was about as low ranking and inexperienced a field agent as the Office of Naval Intelligence had. So while he could supply them with a lot of general information, when it came to ONI secrets and insights into their most important operations, he was severely lacking. Nevertheless, the batarian and salarian pumped him for everything he knew.

"Now then, one last question. Who is John Doe?"

"Who?"

"John Doe. He seems to be a prominent figure in this terrorist organization of yours? Who is he? One of your political leaders?"

"John Doe...John Doe…." A muffled sound rumbled up from Clark. Thinking he was going to tell them, Solik stepped closer. Only to jump away as Clark started laughing maniacally. Solik and Zo'or actually had to repress a shudder at the noise. "Oh...you want me to tell you who John Doe is? Alright, I'll tell you."

"So, is he one of your political leaders? Or a military commander?"

"John Doe is...is…" Clark, his mind breaking down, couldn't help but crack up. "He is everyone, and he is no one. A phantom...an apparition. Second cousin to Harvey the Rabbit. You're chasing after a ghost! John Doe doesn't exist except as a name!" Clark started cackling again.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Zo'or shouted. "You liar! Tell me who he is now! Where is he?!" Zo'or started beating on Clark, shutting him up as Clark's mad laugh was replaced by grunts and yells of pain.

Solik tried to stop the Batarian, but compared to the Batarian, he might as well been trying to stop a charging Krogan. "Stop! Stop!" Zo'or didn't stop. In desperation, Solik grabbed the firestick and jabbed Zo'or with it, bringing the beating to a screeching halt.

"Ahhhhhh….WHAT THE FUCK SOLIK!" Zo'or screamed as he moved away from the salarian.

"YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM YOU BRUTE!" the STG agent screamed back.

"NO I'M NOT HE'S FINE!" Zo'or argued.

"THEN WHY ISN'T HE MOVING?!" Solik demanded.

"He's just…." The batarian's voice trailed off as he saw that Peter Clark's body was completely motionless.

"You killed him." Solik said grimly.

"No, he's just playing dead, so we'll stop." Zo'or argued, as much to convince himself as the salarian. Clark not reacting at all when the batarian interrogator jabbed him with the firestick. "C'mon! Stop acting and wake up!"

"He's dead Zo'or. And you've just destroyed the only real intelligence asset we had on the Office of Naval Intelligence." Solik continued coldly.

"He...he killed himself. Yes, that's what happened." Zo'or said desperately. "He had something, another implant we must not have found or something else…"

Solik just shook his head. "I won't lie for you Zo'or Blanca. And even if I was willing, we both know that all these interrogations sessions are monitored so any valuable data is preserved. Your superiors are probably being informed of what you have done, even as we speak." Solik Gurji icily told the interrogator.

Military interrogator 1st Class Zo'or Blanca looked around desperately. Hoping that something that could save him would stand out. Knowing that his superiors wouldn't forget a failure of this magnitude. And that his superiors were all too likely to order one of his colleagues to torture HIM to death now.

As though it were some sort bad movie, three Hegemony soldiers entered the room. One immediately striking Zo'or with the butt of his gun, knocking out the interrogator, before his two cohorts grabbed ahold of Zo'or's arms and began dragging him from the room.

Solik sighed as he watched the sadist be taken away. "At the very least, we have a lead on just where theres terrorists might strike next."

**APUFMKII**

The Historic District was the oldest part of Overseer City. It contained countless statues of state heroes and other historical monuments, the Supreme Senate building (where the official leaders of the Hegemony assembled to conduct state business), the Presidential Palace (where the Hegemony's nominal head of state lived), and many lavish homes belonging to the Hegemony's richest (and most well connected) citizens. Perhaps most importantly, Fortress Bythor was also in the Historic District. Bythor was the largest and most well known military base on Khar'Shan. Up until Datak Korra took over it had also functioned as the primary headquarters for the batarian military (but Korra decided that he wanted a more secure and less accessible HQ). It was a potent symbol of the power of the Hegemony and the strength of the batarian military.

Which is why the Rebellion wanted to attack it.

The attack itself was meant to be a simple raid. Kill a few guards, destroy a vehicle or two, throw some bombs around, and leave. The objective of the raid was simply to show that the rebels could get to the servants of the Hegemony anywhere (even a fortified location like Bythor). Rather than causing maximum damage or even killing any enemy VIPs.

But the Spartan leading the raid had a different thought in mind. Imagining the glory that could be his if he managed to fight his way through Fort Bythor and kill the general in command.

'Hell the High Admiral himself might be in there now...I could just kill him and pretty much wrap up Operation Spartacus here and now.' Deigo thought arrogantly.

Diego was leading a relatively formidable rebel group. Two dozen rebels, most of them armed with the heaviest weapons they could carry, and all of them with combat training and/or experience. Only four of them were batarians, the rest were all turians or krogan who had been enslaved as adults. United by their hatred of the Hegemony and desire for vengeance against it.

Under ideal conditions, a competent commander would have considered the overeagerness of those under their command. They would have compensated and had fallback options for a number of scenarios. Spartan Diego however, was far from being a commander of any sort, let alone a competent one.

Cocky as hell, it didn't help the fact that Diego was a lone wolf. Being inconsiderate of others was in his very nature, caution wasn't in his vocabulary. Which was why he was recklessly pushing forward deeper and deeper into the base, uncaring of the bodies and damage being left in his wake. "C'mon! Let's move it up!" He shouted, chucking a plasma grenade at a Hegemony vehicle, vaporizing half of it in a flare of plasma.

Behind the Spartan, spurred on by their commander's recklessness, charged forward. Even as some of their comrades died around them, they moved on. Firing grenade launchers, rocket launchers and the odd homemade weapon. Hegemony forces died in droves, not expecting heavy weapons usually reserved for light armor to be used against their infantry. As for Diego, he was display just why, despite everything about him, he was still a Spartan.

He flew across the battlefield. Dropping Hegemony troops left, right and center. When his first weapon had overheated, he simply threw it aside and grabbed a fallen one. Some, he grabbed before snapping their necks, or in some cases, literally ripping off their heads. When his shields fell, he dove for a Hegemony IFV, leaping onto the hatch. Ripping it off with barely an effort before dropping grenades and jumping back. The ensuing explosion and wreck giving him time to regenerate his shields. And for him, he was just getting started.

Unfortunately for Diego, his comrades weren't doing so well. Amongst the Hegemony soldiers scattered across the base, there were several of the Hegemony's WhiteGuard Elite, And had quickly realized that all but their heaviest weapons seemed to have no effect on the Spartan, in short order, ordering all of their forces without heavy weapons, (which amounted to most of the base's soldiers) to concentrate their fire on the slaves and ignore the Spartan. No one balked at the orders, knowing the WhiteGuard's reputation regarding insubordination.

A turian rebel screamed in pain as he was shot dozens of times in the torso, while a krogan comrade just old enough to be considered an adult was hit with by so much enemy fire his head simply ceased to exist. Rebels screamed, cursed, or a few instances broke down and called for their mothers as the batarian soldiers wiped them out. But their 'leader' Diego barely even noticed.

The Spartan continued to run ahead even as the last member of his team lay dying. Futilely calling calling to the Spartan for help. Realizing at the end that Diego was a far lesser man than John Doe (the one who had done the most to form the rebels image of Spartans).

Once his comrades were all dead, things rapidly changed for Diego. Even someone as arrogant as him noticed that he had suddenly become the enemy's only target. Wincing as a high power sniper slammed into his visor and knocking his head back. Craning his head, searching for the sniper, only to realize that his enemy had finally gotten their act together. In the time that he had recklessly pushed forward, deeper into enemy territory, instead of falling back as planned, gave his enemy time to respond. Time the Hegemony had taken advantage of.

Now it was no longer just infantry and WhiteGuard, but light armor vehicles and even tanks rolling in. Batarian State Arms manufactured drones and VI-controlled mechs closing in as well. Someone in command having finally remained all of their automated drone forces that had been gathering dust for years. The designs having be provided, according to rumor, by the Shadow Broker himself.

No one fired, not just yet. From above, in the relative safety of a gunship, a voice came over the mounted speakers. '"SURRENDER AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED BUT IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST LETHAL FORCE WILL BE USED."

Despite whatever most everyone else would consider to be suicidal odds, Diego just smirked, unseen by his enemies. "You ladies want to dance? Let's dance!" Drawing another two plasma grenades, he primed them before charging in the direction of the gunship. Seeing the Spartan charge, the gunship pilot screamed. "Open fire!" Hundreds of guns, from rifles and shotguns, to cannons and rockets fired en masse. But defying all odds, Diego managed to evade most of the fire. His shields taking the brunt of the rifle fire, but evading anything heavier than a sniper round. The grenades still primed in his hand, he threw one at another tank, sticking to it's cannon. In a blue flash, the plasma vaporized the tank, at the same time, igniting it's fuel tanks and killing any unfortunate enough to be too close. The second grenade, he threw at the gunship, but it's pilot, seeing just what had happened to the tank below pulled up. Narrowly avoiding the grenade, it stuck itself to a hapless Hegemony soldier, vaporizing him and eight of his cohorts before he could scream.

Seeing his soldiers being ripped to shreds, the commander started screaming, "Shoot him down! Shoot him down!"

Repeating the stunts from earlier, Diego mounted several more light armor vehicles, sometimes shoving a grenade inside before leaping off, others he left the panicking Hegemony forces fire on him, and the tank, before taking off. Sometimes running between infantry and mech groups, taking out his foes in an ironic display of friendly fire. Between pilfering enemy weapons from the dead as he ran by, and in a move of tactical brilliance, using his enemy's panic against him, the hundred or so Hegemony forces, were being whittled down.

Seeing his forces being wiped out to the last, the commander piloting the gunship began to panic. If he somehow survived this, and the human managed to escape, he would be the scapegoat, and everything would be pinned on him! With renewed fervor, he slammed down on the firing studs, the dirt and pavement flying up as the bullets hit. Diego began sprinting in an effort to stay out of the gunship's sights.

As he ran, Diego tried grabbing weapon after weapon, firing it at the gunship, until the trigger clicked on empty. But whatever he tried, the shields on the gunship took the brunt of the fire and barely flinched. Giving the Spartan a reprieve only when the guns had to cool down. As he ducked behind the remains of an armored vehicle, the gunship let its cannon cool, Diego patted his belt. "C'mon, C'mon. I got to have something left, somewhere." Stopping as he felt a bulge in one pocket. "Hello there…"

Above, the commander furiously tapped as his console as he tried to hasten the cooling process. The guns were pushed to their breaking point, even with all the cooling breaks. "To the Pit with this!" He said to himself, slamming a button on the console. The guns began spooling up again, despite being red hot, as their safety protocols were forcibly disengaged. "Die!"

Bullets began peppering the area, only for the commander to see the Spartan burst forward running towards one of the buildings. The pilot snarled as he followed, dirt and stone kicking into the air as he missed.

"LOSER!" Diego yelled out joyously as he dodged enemy fire. Despising his enemies as weak and impotent. Feeling invulnerable, as though nothing could touch him. Reaching the building, he climbed it, deftly dodging fire before leaping off it. Midair, he pulled the pin of the M5 Thermite grenade, tossing it at the gunship.

Landing into one of it's intakes, the grenade ignited. Ferrous oxide and aluminum igniting in a chemical reaction, it burned at over two thousand degrees celsius, eating through the hull, the engines and everything else in its path until it hit the ground.

Seeing the gunship beginning to spiral out of control, the Spartan began laughing. "WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHAT YOU GONNA DO!" Diego catcalled the enemy. Inside the gunship, it's pilot desperately tried to regain control, then he saw the Spartan. Laughing at him. Taunting him. In a fit of rage and bloodlust, he abandoned trying to land.

The Spartan was still laughing aloud, even as the gunship turned and began moving toward him. Not moving, not realizing, until it was too late. Finally seeing for what it was, Diego turned, to run. Inside, the pilot managed to whisper, "For the Hegemony", just before the gunship itself rammed into the Spartan. Smoke, flame, dirt and debris flew into the air from the impact.

Diego didn't even have time to realize what was going on before the gunship crushed him. Tons of steel, plastic, and ceramic, landing on top of him at speeds approaching the sound barrier. The Spartan's armor and body wasn't simply destroyed, they were pulverized.

Moments later the fuel inside the gunship exploded, blackening everything within the crater.

Around the site, Hegemony forces closed in, intent on claiming their prize.

Author's Note:

aDarkOne here.

Many of you are probably angry at how easily Spartans were taken down this chapter.

Good.

Its impossible to please everyone all the time, so I settle for pissing off each group some of the time :)

I am sure Mass Effect fans will be angry with me before this is through too.

On a more serious note, I don't want to give away too many spoilers, but I will say one thing to describe the next chapter.

Counterattack.

P.S. I find nothing more boring than an untouchable protagonist. In our story Spartans are tough, but they can still die. So can warlords, mercenaries, CEOs, generals, and even humble ditch diggers. And that is the way it should be in a (good) war story.

Follower38:

Yeah, I know many of you will argue that some of this is not possible, to most of you, I would love to scream PLOT MAGIC. But no, we did try to reasons as to most everything here. If you still feel that something is not right, please, leave it in a review with your reason. And by reason, I mean something other than, "Oh this is bullshit! Spartans are OP AS FUCK! Asari can't do shit against them!" If you could actually provide a decent reason, I will listen. Otherwise, all flames will be used to roast burgers and marshmallows. Seriously though, Spartans are not invincible. Google the Spartan-II program. See how many Spartan-IIs there were after the augmentation, and how many are still alive prior to Halo 1. There is a considerable difference. I said once before, how I plan on break the mold and the rules when it came to this crossover. As you can all see, I did kill off Diego, but not before he caused a considerable amount of damage. Spartans can and will die. But they will not be pushovers. Kelly was beaten back only by two dozen, highly trained, elite and veteran Asari commandos, that was after falling down two stories, through sewers and concrete. And having to fight upside down. And the worst of her injuries being a bullet hole here and there.

If anyone has ideas for the story, tech, plot, characters, etc. Please, PM them to me. Especially tech ideas. If you anything, send them. And maybe, youll see them in the story. The more detailed it is, the better your chances.