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~~

"I'm only nine millimeters away. I'm never further than that." -The Punisher

~~Badadumdunbum~~

#25 Who Wants a Window Seat?

~~Badadumdunbum~~

DREAMWORLD

"Mayday, mayday! This is the colony Mindoir, broadcasting on all frequencies. Is anyone out there?"

Not even a moment later came the expected reply. "Mindoir, this is Alliance SSV London, how can we assist? Over."

Good. "London, we have been attacked by Batarian slavers. Most of the colonists have already been killed or captured, but there are significant remaining forces searching for survivors. We need immediate medevac and fire support, coordinates to follow. North, thirty-eight point five-four degrees. Thirty-two minutes, fifty-five seconds. West, seventy-six point five-eight degrees. Thirty-five minutes, nineteen seconds. How copy?"

It took a mere four seconds before I got their response. "Solid copy, Mindoir. We are eight mikes out, shuttles are on their way."

I couldn't help smiling. "Good to hear, London. Patch me through to the lead shuttle."

"Roger that."

There was a surge in static background noise, but a few moments later, "Mindoir, this is First Lieutenant Jean Luc of the Systems Alliance. What's your situation?"

"I've got a survivor with me at the comm station in the center of the colony, we need immediate extraction. There are still more colonists being held by the remaining Batarians on the outskirts of the colony, but we've got a bigger problem; there's a small band of professional mercs down here, and they're nothing like the Batarians. There are three of them, all human. Ex-military, judging by their armor and tactics, but they've been killing anything that moves. Tell your men to be wary of traps, ambushes and snipers. The Batarians are nothing to sneeze at, but those mercs will wipe out your whole squad if you aren't careful. Watch yourself, Lieutenant. Mindoir out."

And with that, I cut the connection and powered down the console, glancing towards the door I'd barricaded. Still shut tight, no change. I turned back the other way, finding the young girl Sarah still sitting with her back to the wall, legs clutched against her chest.

Three steps brought me to her side, dropping to a knee. "Hey. You're gonna be just fine, help is on the way."

She looked up at me, sniffling a little. "R-really...?"

I couldn't help smiling; this kid was cute, even with the waterworks. "Yeah. They'll be here in less than ten minutes, and I doubt the others will come after us after I sent out that distress call."

"But what abou-"

*Ba-DOOOSHKA!...*

An explosion rocked the building and I spun, already on my feet with rifle in-hand, practically diving across the room to the door. I wedged the durasteel open a hair, just enough to get a glimpse of what was going on outside.

"Shit."

The Batarians were back.

END OF DREAM

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

I awoke with a start, abruptly jolted into consciousness when I was tossed off the rack, only to land hard on the steel grating of the hold, faceplate-first. I'd scarcely even had time to blink before I felt Jack's meager weight hit the small of my back, just to add insult to injury. Yep, just how I like to wake up; thrown around like spent brass.

"Fuckin' sonofabitch bastard..." I heard said biotic growling as she got to her feet, thoroughly irritated.

Well, ain't this just shaping up to be a lovely day?

I pushed myself up with a yawn, muttering obscenities. Three days have passed since we got the Reaper IFF we'd been looking for, as well as a walking trashcan known as 'Legion.' The Geth robot was stored in the AI core(Stupid, I know. I couldn't help but palm my face when I heard Shepard give that order) until activation, upon which it decided to join our cause.

Apparently, the 'true' Geth oppose the Reapers. But that aside, Tali about had a bitch-fit when she found out the overgrown Ipotato was going to be helping us. It got even worse when Shepard agree to help with its own issues. A Geth station, where they were going to upload a virus, something-or-other.

I'm guessing that's what just rocked the boat; said station exploding.

Why, you might ask? Because Shepard was there. Of course it's going to explode.

Anyway.

Jack was stalking away, probably heading to get a bite to eat. I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, so I grabbed my Avenger and pulled it apart, checking that kinetic coil I'd dropped in last week. Everything was in order, so I reassembled it and placed the weapon on my back, already hefting Sasha by the time the M8 was fully collapsed.

The frictionless auto-ejector was still functional, and nothing seemed out of place. Recoil dampeners are operational, lube's still slick, and the dope settings are in recent memory.

Go to good. After assembly, I got to my feet, leaving the massive rifle in its place on the workbench. Up the stairs and into the hall I went, breaking down my M6 as I did so. Fully loaded, cocked and locked. Pulling it back together took less than a moment, after which I slapped it on my thigh and unconsciously brought up my armor's computer console, reading the windows that appeared on my visor, overlapping the heads-up display.

I'm still not entirely sure how I do that. Now that I think about it... I've been doing all sorts of things without knowing how I did them. The thing's been reacting to my thoughts, I guess.

Regardless. I scrolled through the menus, happenstance bringing me to the time and temperature controls.

"I see you've finally decided to familiarize yourself with the armor you've been wearing for the past month. It's currently twenty-six degrees, by the way."

Oh, now you decide to open your big mouth? The hell has been going on with this armor, anyway?

...What's this? No witty banter, no more scathing remarks? Well, fuck off and stay fucked off, then. Ya worthless cockbite.

I shook my head once more, an irritated scowl darkening my features, that little spark of anger in my heart growing three sizes before I managed to smother it back down. I was still smoldering on the inside, just itching for a chance to kill something.

Despite whatever anyone tells you, real anger doesn't burn down or go away. When the fuel runs out, when you don't have anything to direct it toward, it starts to eat at you. It's like heartburn that just won't go away, like a dark flame that consumes your waking thoughts.

After forcing those murder-happy thoughts back into the dark little corner in the back of my mind I'd stuffed them into, I refocused on the windows that were layered over my visor, heading into the elevator and taking it down to the cargo bay as I did so.

Time and temp, VI settings,(Already set to Shut the fuck up mode, for what little good it does) comms and encryption, motion sensor defaults, HUD layout, life support, combat efficiency, biometrics, visor and alterred spectrum setup, artificial muscle density, kinetic bleeders, neural link, movement systems, omni-tool functions, barrier frequency, navigation, medical, active scans...

Jesus, there's still about two dozen more functions.

I shook my head, taking a seat on one of the larger crates. 'All this crap shoved into my body, into my damn head, and I don't have a clue as to what half of it does. And yet I manage to make all of it work together without knowing how I do it. Just what the hell did they do to me...?'

My thoughts turned back to the nightmares, the waking dreams I'd been seeing every time I closed my eyes. I didn't have them before, neither dreams nor nightmares. Never did, not even as a child. I know cryo has to have done some screwy shit to my head, but still. This seems intentional.

'These dreams... They're memories,' I figured. 'But from when? Where? Right, Mindoir, a colony. But there were five of us, didn't the Illusive Man say that I was the only Spartan that was finished? Damned liar. I hate mysteries. So there were at least four others... The leader, 01, he referred to us as Angels.' I couldn't help but feel uneasy about that, from both TIM's lies, and the fact that I only knew half the story. 'I need to remember. I have to know.'

"VI," I quietly said, leaning back against the wall my crate was set next to. "Playlist four, track 3."

[Cue Music: The Last Time, by All That Remains]

This song was one of Rachel's favorites. I guess she really did grow on me, all those years ago.

I sat back and focused on my breathing, letting the music flow through me, as the memories took hold...

-FLASHBACK-

Footsteps came from behind me, the familiar step-drag-squish rhythm telling me exactly who they belong to. "After we take this hill, we can go home. We've made it this far, Wolf. We'll get through this. Just one more push..." She stood right next to me, looking over the mountainpeaks, towards the rising sun.

"One last dance with death before we bow out."

An ominous, disconcerting silence followed before Rachel turned to me and asked, "So, how's that cross fittn' ya?"

I shrugged. "I'm still shocked Rawling and Murph recommended me for it. I'm even more surprised they got it so quick. Normally those kinds of things take months or years to go through."

"Still." She grinned from ear-to-ear, tobacco-yellowed teeth shining in the dawn's first light. "It might not be the Medal of Honor, but it's a big deal, y'know."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Big deal. Heh, yeah. A seven-hour ceremony of standing at attention, shaking hands and dealing with a bunch of press and old-timers. I'd rather just go home and take a nap. Maybe have 'em mail it to me."

Fiver just shook her head and smiled, bangs swishing with the movement. "That's just like you. You'd rather hit the range or a bar instead of going to a party honoring your actions."

"Hah. Those things are for heroes and narcisists, and I ain't neither one," I replied, shaking my head.

"Hey, Wolf?" Hm? Rachel's voice sounded a bit off, her usual amused rolling lilt suddenly vanishing.

I curiously glanced towards her. "Yeah?"

Her expression was unreadable, even to me. "I want you to promise me something. If... If something happens to me, if I don't make it, just- Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, a'ight. Wolf?"

"...Yeah. I promise."

That unfamiliar look in her green eyes vanished, replaced by her trademark spark of mischief, grinning once more. "Don't go full-retard on me now, you got that?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Heh, no promises there, Fives."

-END FLASHBACK-

"Hey!"

I blinked, once more finding myself on the Normandy, no longer standing next to my old friend. I was on my feet, knife in-hand, my body settled in a familiar stance. Somehow, I'd been practicing while unconscious.

Shepard was standing some fifteen feet away, a sardonic look on her face, emerald eyes narrowed conspicuously. "Don't you have anything to do besides martial arts?"

"Not particularly," I honestly answered. "Something you need, Shepard?"

Her lips quirked into a smirk. "What, do I need a reason to visit my psycho?"

...Psycho?

"Psycho?" I parroted, head tilted. Hey, I may be a dangerous killer who hears the voice of his long-time-dead friend/crush and occasionally loses control in fits of omnicidal rage, but I-

"Well, that there sounds like the very definition of 'psycho' to me. You could be the posterchild for padded cells."

Oh, shut up. Ain't like you've got room to talk, miss Dead-With-Her-Ass-In-The-Air.

Ahem. Shepard just giggled a little, probably imagining the stupid look on my face. "Yeah, psycho. A few of the others have been calling you that, and I've gotta say it fits."

Psycho, wow. If only Roy were hear to listen to this.(*Rimshot* Yes, that was intentional) Rest in peace, old friend.

"So what's on your mind, Blade?" Drat. How can she always tell? "And I knew something was up since I found you down here. You only come down here when something's bothering you."

Oh.

I made a mental note to find a new place to hang out when I don't want to be pestered. "It's nothing, just trying to remember my damn name and figure out some weird dreams. The usual."

"Huh. Any luck?"

I shrugged, offering, "Well, it had something to do with Batarians slavers attacking a colony called Mindoir."

The Commander's eyes widened a fraction as she thought, 'Mindoir?! But that's...' She set those thoughts aside, filing them away for later as she schooled her expression back to normal. "I meant with your name."

There was nothing different about her tone of voice, either, but something seemed wrong. Strange. "The only thing that comes to mind is the Navy Cross... I was awarded the Navy Cross during the second Korean War. That should narrow it down to a couple dozen at least. I'll be able to figure it out once we get to Earth, anyway."

Shepard continued to smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll get it sorted out. Ready for the good news?"

Lovely. "Hit me with it."

"The IFF is up and working. We're on our way to the last stop before we head through the Omega 4 Relay. Last chance to jump ship."

I don't think I could hitch-hike for very long in vacuum. "So we're finally going to gut those bastards. I'm ready whenever you are, Shepard."

My Commander grinned, pearly-white teeth glimmering in the artificial light. "Good to hear. Now c'mon."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

In the conference room

"Just for the record, Shepard, this is a very, very bad idea."

Our Commander snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah, well I'm just full of 'em these days."

The Turian groaned melodramatically, mandibles twitching irritably. "This isn't going to end well."

"Duly noted," Shepard amusingly replied, a small smirk on her face. "Now quit your puss-achin'."

Garrus just shook his head, muttering obscenities in a language I didn't quite understand, though my visor listed some very descriptive subtitles. I couldn't help but snicker to myself at the ones involving Shepard's birth, a space hamster, some kind of animal called a shatha, and an orgy revolving around scat and bukkake.

It was actually very funny.

But I fully agreed with him.(About this being a stupid, reckless plan, not the strange curse) "Garrus has a point, Shepard. This isn't the best plan you've ever had."

She quirked an eyebrow, giving me a half-scowl. "Do you have a better one?"

I shrugged. "Long-distance brain surgery?"

Jack started giggling while Samara stroked her chin. "Morinth is very cautious. Her hunting ground will have adequate cover against snipers, as will her hiding place. We cannot rely upon that as our primary method."

Oh, right. I neglected to mention what we're doing. See, we're hunting a space vampire.

You heard me right. Morinth is an Asari Ardat Yakshi; they are Asari who can essentially kill someone by having sex with them. They are charismatic, having the ability to hypnotise others to great effect, and possess extremely powerful biotics, too. So they're some fairly dangerous bastards.

"But it's a good fallback plan. Seeing as subtlety is key, I want Thane up high. Find the best vantage point you can and prepare to take the shot on my mark. Your code word is 'checkmate.' Kasumi, I want you on the ground, shadowing us. But keep your distance, we don't want Morinth to suspect anything. Since we don't want to give ourselves away and EDI is still running trials on the Reaper IFF, the Normandy will remain anchored on the other side of the solar system while we take the shuttle to Omega." Shepard looked around at each and every one of us. "Suggestions?"

I was none too keen on being over an hour away while my Commander was off hunting a fucking space vampire, but I kept my mouth shut.

"None? Alright, dismissed."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Come on, damnit. Oh, the propulsion systems are offline. Hey Blade, why don't you go and crawl into the fucking ducts to fix the damn thing you have no fucking clue how to repair! Bah!" I was crawling through the tiny, dark and overly-cramped ducts again, this time through ones that were seemingly even smaller than before.

Probably because they were, and I'd never been through these particular ducts. Tali picked a perfect time to go and sterilize her suit.

I'd even taken the pauldrons off, but it was still a tight fit. It's been over three hours since Shepard took her squad and left, and we've had nothing but problems with the ship's systems.

Muttering obscenities as I went, I'd just unstuck myself and curled into a vertical shaft when my commlink buzzed to life. "Hey, uh, hey Blade? You might want to get back up here. Right now."

Fucking wonderful. I groaned, turning myself back around and beginning the long, arduous crawl back. "I just got halfway through and you're calling me back. This better be good, 'cuz I ain't coming back down here, damnit."

It was Femgineer. Err, Gabby. "Something's seriously wrong with these readouts. It's like there's a... A virus or something in the system. I don't think this is a hardware malfunction."

You tell me that now? Thanks, bitch. I just love crawling through these damned ducts for no good reason.

Muttering obscenities that would make a grizzled, salt-crusted sailor blush, I dragged my sorry carcass through the titanium tunnels for several long, painstaking minutes before I felt the entire Normandy shake and shudder around me.

"Uh-oh. Thaaat's not good."

The ship's PA system blared an alarm, as did my commlink. "BATTLE STATIONS! ATTENTION ALL HANDS, PRIMARY DEFENSE SYSTEMS ARE OFFLINE! PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!"

Oh, fuck me!

I started pulling myself through the narrow, twisting ducts, tear-assing through the claustrophobic's hellhole as fast as I could. My comm screeched to life once more, Miranda's face appearing in a small window on my HUD. "Blade, get up here! It's the Collectors!"

"I'm on my way, two mikes out!"

"That's three minutes too late! Hurry!"

I can't believe the moment we get attacked, I'm fucking stuck in the goddamn ductwork!

FUCK! I sped it up as best I could, finally dragging myself out and into the hold some minute and a half later, hopping up and onto my feet. I grabbed my Avenger and hauled my titanium-plated ass up the stairs, practically jumping up the second flight. I punched the elevator button, anxiously checking my weapon over.

Incindiary ammo, fully loaded, chamber's hot. And safety's-

The elevator door opened. "GrroooAAAAAAGGGHHH!"

Oh, FUCK!

My body was in motion before my mind fully comprehended the threat. I ducked the scion's arm, dashing forward and jamming the muzzle of my M8 under it's oversized chin.

*BATATATATATATATATATATATAaat...!*

Fifteen rounds went through its modified skull, but I was already shifting onto my next target, a Collector that was riding with the big bastard. Its insectoid brain-matter splattered the elevator's wall.

And as the lone husk int he elevator tried to attack me form behind, I simply took a step back, smashing the butt of my rifle into its face.

*Sklrrchk!*

Of course, the space-zombie's head was crushed against the wall like an overripe blue raspberry. I threw the three dead fuckers out of my elevator, glancing down to the large empty pod they'd brought with them.

"Hmm..."

. . .

*Pul-BOOSHKA!*

"WHOA! What the fuck was that?!" Kenneth shouted, his jaw dropping when he saw who threw the massive pod that crushed a scion against .

"Seven hundred pounds of Raid," I answered, stepping off the elevator and into the CIC as my vision returned to normal, my armor's synthetic muscles relaxing back to their normal size and density. "Sitrep!" I called over the din of gunfire, seeing several crewmen, including Zaeed, fighting off a swarm of husks near the locked cockpit.

His faithful partner-in-crime Gabby just stared at me, almost dropping the Avenger in her hands. "What does it look like?! There are bugs and husks all over the ship!"

Ah, fuck it. I unconsciously activated my comm by thought, sending out wideband. "Miranda, where are you?"

"My quarters! I'm pinned down, I need help immediately!"

Damn. "Roger, fifty seconds." I was just about to turn around when an all-too familiar sound caught my attention.

*SSSCREEEEEEIIIIIIGGGHHH...!*

A Praetorian had just boarded the ship, and I heard Zaeed shout, "EVERYONE DOWN, GODDAMNIT!"

Hmph. Payback time. "Miranda. Make that one mike."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

[Cue Music: Not Without A Fight, by Pillar]

*Ba-DOOOSHKAaaa...!*

An explosion rocked the ship, sounded like it came from the CIC. Miranda shook her head, sweat-soaked violet locks plastered to her head, unmoving as she used what little energy she had left to biotically throw her entire bed at the swarm of husks, having exhausted her thermal clips in the past eight minutes of fighting. There were that many of them, enough to absorb several hundred rounds and still keep coming.

"Fuck," She cursed. This wasn't looking good.

There were at least twenty of them, all trying to cram into her quarters, over her broken desk, all intent on ripping her throat out before turning to the others. The bulk of the Collector forces were focused on her; Garrus had several crewmen with him in the main battery, helping him to hold off a dozen of the buggery bastards.

Determined not to let them get to the remaining survivors, she shouted, "EDI! Seal the room!"

The hatch to her quarters slammed shut, its haptic console vanishing.

With a wan smile, she looked from the gathered husks down to her trembling hand, now glowing with the last of her strength. Clenching a fist and exhaling, she threw the ball of pure force straight at the nearest window, for once glad to have them.

The reinforced, solid-state aerogel window cracked and shattered, an alarm blaring as the atmosphere was violently ripped from the room, the Cerberus officer doing everythign she could to hang onto the wall as those husks were yanked off their feet and pulled out into the vacuum of space.

Knowing she mere moments to get to the drawer that held her respirator, Miranda clawed her way across the room, desperately digging her nails into the space between the titanium panels.

She almost made it...

When a clawed hand clapsed itself around her ankle. That when she felt herself being torn from the floor and pulled towards the window, her ears painfully popping over and over, the air forced from her lungs, her eyes feeling as though they were being ripped apart by thousands of tiny razors.

Miranda's entire life flashed before her eyes; fond childhood memories, those from before she realised how conceited her father was, ones of the woman that she believed to be her mother. Those of when she first joined Cerberus, and especially the ones she'd shared with Jacob. But the one that stuck out the most, the memories of her sister, of the single conversation they'd had.

'Oriana-' Is all she had time to think, before a strong hand caught hold of her wrist. Miranda forced her eyes open a fraction, just enough to see the hulking form of Blade, holding her just barely outside the window.

He gripped her arm with one hand, the other keeping the failsafe bulkhead from closing and locking her outside. His armor was glowing, the red light blindingly bright against the background of space. The only thing keeping him from being pulled out were his magboots, and the strain to keep himself vertical was showing. He desperately pulled her closer to himself, bending the arm and forcing his elbow against the inner wall, knuckles pressing against the closing bulkhead.

That's when his hand snaked back and he pulled something out of his armor's storage. He promptly jammed it against her face before he let go; she could see him turn around and rush back through the room, towards the hatch that lead into the Crew Quarters.

Miranda blinked, taking that all in before she reached up, fully affixing the rebreather he'd haphazardly shoved into place, finally heaving in precious oxygen, finally realising how close she'd come to dying; her head was pounding something awful, the edges of her vision as dark and empty as the vacuum she'd just been thrown into.

But she was safe, relatively speaking. The rebreather had at least three hours' worth of air. After catching her breath, she found herself smiling. "That son of a bitch," She chuckled, letting her aching body relax.

'It seems I owe him one for this,' Miranda thought, crossing her arms with a shiver as she drifted through the black, intently watching the Normandy SR2. 'Well. If I survive, anyway.'

Back with Blade

I moved toward the hatch, punching the console and breezing out, grabbing the respective skulls of the two husks waiting for me, smashing them together into a gorey blue pulp.

The Collector ship was roughly six hundred kilometers away, directly above us. I already had a plan when I roudned the corner, pulling my rifle from my back, taking aim at the few remaining collectors that were harassing the surviving crewmen at Garrus' position.

It took a single clip to clear them out from behind. "Garrus! You still alive?"

The Turian poked his head out from around the open door to the main battery. "I'm good! Where's Miranda?"

I shook my head. "She's alive, waiting outside for pickup. Can you get the main cannon ready to fire manually?"

He blinked, a pair of perplexed crewmen popping out from the other side of the door. "Huh? What for, it's no good if the ship can't move."

"I'm already on that. Just get the Thanix ready to fire and hold this position." And with that, I turned and started off, jogging towards the elevator.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Joker! Where are you?"

"AI Core! Wish me luck, I'm unleashing the overlord."

The overlord? Lovely. "Roger. Get back to the cockpit before the next wave hits. Tali, can you hear me?"

She answered with a sneeze. "Ah-CHOO! Yeah, I'm here! Gabby and Kenneth are helping me, but this might take a minute."

"Just get it done. EDI?" As I asked, the AI's holographic visage appeared on the CIC's main console.

"I am here. I am currently recharging barriers and restarting propulsion systems. I have detected several hostiles that have boarded the cargo bay. Procede to deck five and aid the others in repelling the Collector forces."

I couldn't help but grin. "Understood." Hopping back into the elevator, I took it down and stepped off, finding Grunt and Legion already hosing down a praetorian and a massive swarm of husks.

My visor scanned the group, highlighting all my targets as Rachel's voice rang out in my ears. "Twenty-six husks, eight Collectors, and one praetorian."

And as my vision greyed out, we both said, "They don't stand a snowball's chance in hell."

[Cue Music: Adrenaline, by 12 Stones]

*Ba-dump...Ba-dump...Ba-dump. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum, ba-dum, badum-badum-badum-badum-badum*

All I could hear... Was my heartbeat, for the longest time.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

Focus.

I dash forward, rifle in my shoulder, hosing down the husks on full-auto, firing off eighty rounds before I got on top of them. They were moving in slow motion; I let my M8 fall as I dropped down, slamming a C12 charge against the floor, setting it to send the blast straight up as I dived through the group, ducking and dodging their clawed hands with ease.

Everything hurt; I was overusing the armor, I knew it in my heart, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. What was important, was saving this ship. Protecting Shepard's home.

"Fight!"

I dropped to the ground to avoid the Praetorian's laser, dumping all the built-up momentum into my legs in doing so, before springing straight into the air, the jets redirecting me until I landed square on top of the giant mechanical monster. "KILL!" In less than an instant, I had two charges slapped against its metal carapace, set to detonate as I dived off its back.

And as I hit the ground rolling, coming to a stop on my knee, I exhaled, feeling the strength drain out of my aching limbs.

"...Win."

*BADADALOOOOOOMSHKAaaaa...!*

My ears were ringing so loud, I didn't even hear it hit the deck, but I tasted blood, my breath ragged.

"More internal injuries. I'm upping the anesthetic, so c'mon. Up an' at 'em." Rachel's voice spurned me on, and I forced my unwilling body to stand, taking in the scene.

Grunt and Legion had mopped up both the Collectors and the dozen husks that had been leftover, and were currently waiting on me. I approached them, picking up my rifle as I went. "EDI?"

The AI's synthetic voice answered over the PA system. "There are a handful of collectors that have breached the CIC. Zaeed is currently engaging. Procede into the elevator to assist."

"You heard the lady. Let's move."

Grunt just chuckled, rumbling, "The fun never ends!"

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Done and dusted, finally moving onto the Suicide Mission. YAAAAY!

References include, but are not limited to: Star Trek TNG, the movie Burke and Hare, The It Sucks To Be Weegie comics, Call of Duty MW3/Ghosts, Red vs Blue, Tropic Thunder, and Metroid Fusion.

NOTE: The 'dope' of a scope is the elevation/windage setting. The zero, you might say. Most marksmen keep a range card that lists the dope of his rifle/optic combination, so he can change its zero on the fly for different ranges. Most go from 50 yards all the way out to 900, in 50-100 yard increments. This is essential for long-distance accuracy, as measuring bullet drop is as much an art as it is science.

Most don't know this, but bullets don't fly in a straight line. They're the same as cannons/artillery, though the elevation needed isn't anywhere near as obtuse.

~~Badadumdunbum~~