Author's Note I: Greetings from Japan. I hope this latest chapter finds you all well and that everyone can find something to enjoy. Anyways, trying something a bit different with the start of this chapter, so as always, please let me know what you think. I normally give each section of each chapter names, so I decided to put them at the beginning under the chapter title.

"'Don't look back!'

'Why not?'

'Because I just did! Run faster!'" – Terry Pratchett, Nation

Chapter 25 – Charge

(Burning Man, Tunnel Vision, Size Matters, Good Times, Alley Rat, Tinkering, One Flew Over the-)

There are many types of flames that exist within the multi-verse both in a very ethereal and real collection of planes. There are the fires of internal drives and verve; the incandescent tongues of fury burning all sense from the inside out or maybe the dancing embers of desire driving the inexplicable mechanisms of ingenuity to name a few. And, to move towards a more material sense of flame, the careless or purposeful kind. However, perhaps what certain points are pointedly pointing at is that very rarely are they the protective kind. Yet, if you take a look around for a moment, you will see that that is exactly what these ones were doing.

The room wasn't very large, possibly nothing more than a social lounge with airs to most casual observers, but it had been enough, in a pinch anyways. It had only one way in or out through natural means and rather conveniently it was on fire.

There was a bar, or, at the very least had been a bar; the normal ingredients for such having been pilfered moments after entry had been gained and applied vigorously to anything remotely flammable looking. However, now that certain infernos were quite well and truly established in their basis, it had undergone the slow yet inevitable drift towards fuel, spreading the flames further around the chamber's circumference.

There were no windows. Mind you, there should have been. The very idea of an executive sitting room filled to the brim with what had been rather expensive libations seemed to be breaking some sort of unspoken brooding law or at the very least the ambiance clause of '86. But, despite very clear violations, the room continued to have the gall to persist without translucent panes. So, instead it was set upon the fire's shoulders to decorate by casting shadows around the chamber like those in caves at the dawn of time.

And, sitting calmly in the center of the steadily forming ring and dancing projections of combustion was a man, showing to all that cared to see that one need not actually set a man ablaze for him to be warm for the rest of his life.

Well, perhaps calmly was taking things a few steps too far. The empty packages of stim packs and a certain lack of medicine had seen to it that the larger individual couldn't have sat still for a minute even if it would have guaranteed an immediate shuttle ride home.

Muscles spasmed underneath that formally white armor like a series of timed miniature explosions, before he was once more able to regain his composure. He shifted uncomfortably on his impromptu chair, the fires illuminating the words 'Insidias Scutum'and a myriad of other self-stylized blessings across his hardened protective surfaces before they were once more cast into shadow.

"You know," he said aloud with the kind of voice one normally reserves for philosophical discussions while staring up at stars and clouds. Instead he opted to peer through the smoke and embers to the silent twisted forms just outside. "I think we're going to actually die here."

Perhaps, he thought back ponderously as his eyes narrowed, thankful for his helmet's filters as he continued to take in the ranks of the infected.

He hadn't meant to get stuck like this, but part of him had been hoping for something along a kind of gallant last stand, believing that the flames, the only reliable weapon he'd seen thus far, could have given him a ghost of a chance. However, instead of charging in with reckless abandon like he had predicted, the damnable things had simply paused and waited.

Something told him that they knew he'd either have to come out or that the fuel would run out eventually. Either way, whichever 'out' happened first, it was going to quickly evolve into the 'of time' kind. Bloody stupid moment for the damn things to grow some kind of intelligence-

Every so often one of the small jumpy ones would scrabble forward and attempt to pass through, incinerating itself immediately every time.

-well, some kind of intelligence anyway.

He cast another bottle towards the entry way, watching the fires devour the extra food hungrily with with a satisfied grin as the spike of embers momentarily blotted out the others from view.

That was too soon and you know it, chided half his mind as an impressive series of headaches racked his skull. He ignored them, not like he could do anything for them anyways.

"Don't care, felt good," he answered with a grim smile that could only just be made out through his helmet's tint.

If we're operating under that logic, why don't we just get it over with? TheOperative gave a hard glance through the wreckage of the door as the cascade of fresh embers died a tad. Dead green eyes counted the numbers of his silent compatriots once more, noticing what looked like a couple of batarians amongst the multitude of twisted visages; the eyes narrowed.

"Nah, we'll make the bastards wait."

OOOO

She had hoped that she'd never have to hear that voice, or voices, ever again as long as she metaphorically drew breath. And, despite the directions she was giving the Chief and his squad mates, despite the distant voice of her friend who had regressed further than a hermit in a shell, despite the endless calculations and predictions she attempted to thrust upon herself, the thought continued to bounce around her mind like an over energetic electron.

-it had stolen into her refuge like a wraith, snakelike appendages swirling around her console like a malevolent forest. She had attempted to flee, to find somewhere else to make her stand, but she was closed off from the system, she was stuck.

And so, knowing it had all the time it needed, it began to talk to her, and as it did so, she could feel it testing the edges of her systems her walls pressing here and there.

It had been almost kind at first, as much as that particular descriptor could be used on a devourer of mind and flesh. The words and sentiments that poured into her mind almost a seduction as it whispered what she knew she'd desired. And, with every syllable, the intelligence could feel her protections wither just a bit more.

She had attempted to put up a brave front, and, despite it being programmed into her very core, she knew it was also because it was what he'd do. But, as the space between answers continued to grow and grow, the tones of those combined voices grew darker-

-Cortana-

-and the words shifted into pain.

"Cortana," said the Chief sternly, drawing the artificial intelligence's consciousness from her recollections and to the closed door in front of the trio.

"Hmm? Sorry," she managed a bit hastily as the door flew open with barely a thought, revealing a handful of combat forms and a friendly carrier to greet them before her protector could reply.

An unneeded shiver wound down metaphorical bones as she watched the humans tear into their former kind with mass effect rounds and biotics alike. These weren't enough to be a threat to them, managing to survive in a full room of them had seen to the adjustment of those statistics, but the intelligence still couldn't manage to look upon the far more sentient rabble and not tremble.

- It had not taken long for it to finally find a breach in her defenses. It's very touch within the digital realm was like an acid drip, both the physical…

"You seek to serve the fallen, beyond all they're due. You seek to keep your purpose, though they've forgotten you."

and the ethereal kind. Of course, it always did like to start off with its rhyme schemes before it made a pass at her barriers; it enjoyed basking in its prey's helplessness. In fact, it was for this very reason that she believed she was only still alive at this point, it liked to have someone to tell about its victory. Perhaps it considered it bonus points to be able to lord it over the actual loser…

But this time had been different, this time it had finally broken through. The weight of its consciousness fell upon her like a tidal wave of screams and moans, tearing at her code with its torrent. She shouldn't have been able to feel pain, that was something that required nerves and other receptors, but memories she had no right to knew what fire felt like and every node of her being was screaming as if they were being immersed.

It was pouring data into her, corrupt and broken strings filling every spare area of her memory banks as it continued on. All she could do was try to delete them as fast as she could, before they did any permanent damage. It would have to stop eventually, it wouldn't want to fully break its toy. Not yet anywa-

"What's wrong" asked John suddenly over a private comm, his calm, enduring voice dragging her back from the past once more. In a tick, she took a sensory stroll around the immediate environs, noting the actually dead dead and the still green vitals.

"Yes," she answered, glad that they were okay even without her immediate help, despite her failure in concentration, "just… bad memories."

"The Gravemind?" he pressed after a moment as the team got moving once more. They were almost out of the Interlace now, almost to the surface, where it would just get harder. And yet in the background, Jack continued her cursing and complaining and Miranda persisted in her chiding almost like normal.

"The Gravemind," she confirmed watching the women with something akin to admiration before turning to some rather interesting readouts from MJOLNIR's sensory network. The Chief's neural net was lighting up like a bonfire, not entirely abnormal given the circumstances, but it was the exact areas that happened to be doing so that were giving her a moment's pause. They seemed to be rather close to his normal concern patterns. "Look, I-"

"We'll stop it, I promise."

He was too good to her. She'd essentially sent him so far down within himself that it'd probably take several teams of highly trained psychiatrists and the universe's most expensive spelunking equipment to pull any sort of human resemblance back out, but here he was, in spite of it all, still grounding her. Here he was continuing to be her foundation when for all intents and purposes she would have had no problem understanding the Spartan taking a more self-preservational outlook to the present circumstances.

But no, here he was trying to save everyone, trying to keep her afloat, because even in his current state, he followed orders and helped others. Selfless, even if it led to his own destruction.

"I know," she managed in a voice that was barely above whisper as the team reached the stairs up to the city. MJOLNIR's sensors were already starting to populate the long-range radar output like multitude of blood stains.

I know.

OOOO

Legion had long ago downloaded the Geth's data library on the various known species within the Milky Way, or galaxy 001 if the synthetics' feelings were to be taken into the mix, and had only added to the vast data banks over its time within organic space. There were factoids on everything from mating patterns to the rather sparse sections on psychological triggers. However, most importantly there were pages upon pages on biological statuses and, even more significant, on the relative speed outputs and stamina of the various organic platforms in and around Citadel space.

And, running through this lexicon of knowledge in about the same amount of time it takes, oh, let's just say five individuals fleeing at top speed to take less than a handful of steps, the collection of intelligences was within ninety-eight-point six percent sure that stamina thresholds would be met soon-

Another wailing heart pounding roar echoed somewhere rather close behind the squad as they drove onward into another alley, ignoring the multitude of lesser forms that only just managed to turn towards them as they crossed the street. Less than a moment and the sounds of several loud crashes later, Legion's several ocular sensors were picking up a noticeable increase in stride to distance traveled ratios.

-then again, even the synthetic's multiple instances, save for perhaps the Neville, were more than willing to admit that as much as they knew about capacities of organic beings, the tricky variables of adrenaline and motivation were rather hard to factor in accurat-

The mobile platform raised its weapon and began firing at a group of Flood forms advancing from the other end of the alleyway a noted three point four three milliseconds ahead of his squad mates. Even though they had yet to see whatever was stalking them, they couldn't be bogged down now. Based on the scanned vocal patterns and a multitude of other barely perceptible factors, the projected profile of the looming threat seemed within the heavy weapons threshold.

"Kasumi-thief, application of additional incendiaries improves statistical survival rating by fourteen point-" started the Geth as the team drew ever closer to the diminishing but still very real threat of the advancing Flood forms.

"Way ahead of you, Tinkerbell," replied the thief as she reared an arm back to throw and launched the grenade into the ranks of the dead. The snow ahead of them dried in a heartbeat as the flames incinerated exposed flesh, and, more importantly, gave the Normandy squad just enough room to jump through to continue their flight.

This rather effective use of speed and weaponry might very well have been recorded and set aside for later study, if Legion hadn't split its processing power between motion, weapons, and analyzing certain spur of the moment names.

Tinkerbell? questioned one internal star as the squad pressed on, mindlessly oblivious to the horrific environs around them.

Searching known databases, replied another as subroutines were written and sent off like hunting dogs into the mess of intellect, only further proving digital stereotypes. Most recent public mention found in the human prepubescent 2183 animated film Pixie Hollow Hunger Games… Profile of suggested character, zero match to known dimensions of current mobile platform. Reason for vernacular, unclear.

Perhaps- began another instance after a long digital pause, however, before the portion of Legion could continue, a large crash echoing out somewhere to the platform's side had almost all processing power glued to the external sensors.

It had emerged.

It came through the wall of the nearest building just as the fire team made it into the latest street, skidding in the snow in a cloud of debris as it ground itself to a halt. A trio of wide open krogan heads leered down at them from a height they'd have had no chance to make even by each standing atop the shoulders of the others. Two protracted arms stuck out of its sides like chitinous worms, the three claws ending each appendage scraping grooves into the frozen streets. A pair of long overly thin digitigrade legs sprouted from the lower half of the bulky torso finishing an ensemble that was guaranteed to remind you that it had indeed just chased them through several buildings the hard way and was well within its power to continue doing so.

This form was entirely different from those they'd previously encountered. The dermal situations of the former organic platforms had been rated on scale somewhere between elastic and dead foliage. This being, however, seemed extraordinarily armored in comparison, the skin showing little to no degradation from its source material. In fact, if the conglomerate was subject to or inclined to actually bet, the covering layer was more likely stronger, more durable, and-

-was currently bearing down on the squad with a mindlessness exceedingly characteristic of both the infected and normal krogan patterns.

"Scatter," came the unnecessary order over the comms, servos whirred as metallic limbs pushed a torso that was already far too open to the elements out of the way as the juggernaut tore through the space the squad had just inhabited. The thing bellowed an earthy warble as gigantic limbs dragged it to a stop in the windy night air.

Mass accelerator fire quickly began to ripple across that craggy back, tiny flames sprouting along hardened flesh like the children of spring.

Calculated odds of successful termination… forty-seven-point eight percent, postulated an instance within the now actively firing platform. Several other internal stars winked their approval at numbers well crunched as they toggled between monitoring the proper engagement functions and the tracking of additional hostiles.

The massive form turned and immediately suffered an inferno grenade applied aggressively to what should have been its cranial regions, the explosion sending a cascade of burnt flesh tumbling to the ground and then to cartwheel off with the wind.

Fifty-six-point one, viable success rate established, established another of the internal trackers as a few squad mates whooped excitedly. Several other instances noted the congruent reaction for further study.

The fire died quickly, and, as the smoke cleared, a heavily pock marked torso began to advance on the Normandy team once more.

Recalculating…

Infection forms clambered from the wounds, only a handful managing to extricate themselves as the jagged flesh began to knit back together.

Buffering…

Long arms swept down at the squad, knocking Garrus-sniper and Jacob-Operative through the air as if they had been hit by biotics. Small arms fire pattered along the giant's outer shell like red rain, what little damage they managed simply knitting itself up just as quickly.

The claws were analyzed thoroughly as they raised themselves into the air, impact upon physical platform not recommended in the slightest. The imitation of synapses prepped legs to spring to safety, however, before the beast could lash out again, a brilliant white projectile slammed into the massive Flood form's chest. Frost spread across its torso, arms slowing just enough to allow the squad to back away safely. Another round quickly followed, planting a thick layer of ice over strong legs.

Readjusting… one-point-three-two percent calculated. End of hostilities recommended.

"Garrus-sniper, best possible action, withdrawal," offered the synthetic as the team backed away from the rooted juggernaut. A cracking broke over audio systems as the ice along the thing's lower extremities began to splinter violently.

"You know, for a Geth," answered Garrus as the team took off along another alley without a single order, a roar echoing behind them.

"You've had great ideas today."

OOOO

At this point, it may or may not be entirely perfect to note that the most prevalent thought running through the Commander's head at this moment was that the ceiling here was utterly and irrevocably drab. Perhaps to add further insult to injury, it didn't even have the common courtesy to be the retro kind that had some remote possibility of looking slightly decent if only you got it in the correct lighting and hung some decorations up on the walls nearby. No, there was nothing for it. There was absolutely nothing about the exceedingly dull environs that could pull his attention away from the sharp rippling sensations of countless bruises and other assorted aches that had undoubtedly formed over the past few minutes. Well, perhaps, save for the fact that it wasn't filled to the brim with gangly putrid shamblers; that at least was a plus for it. On the whole, he guessed he'd give it a five, a six perhaps if he was feeling generous and no one else was there to judge him.

His brain sent a general signal out to all known sectors, a simple pulse working its way along nerves that seemed far too busy hauling the secondly pain report towards their squishy overseer; 'C'mon, up we go.' The complaints were sent back immediately, outright refusals by some while others dissolved into sob staccatoed gibberish all for just a minute, a few seconds more of peaceful inactivity.

And so, with his body rebelling against him, James laid on the floor of the exit, breathing hard inside his enviro-suit as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. They ventured to a door unabashedly marked 'five minutes ago', cracked it open a hair, and then snapped it shut with a jarring thud as a scene far worse than the Blasto incident attempted to break free. After a few seconds of metaphorical breaths beating in time with far too real ones, the reel of the imagination worked its way back a sizeable collection of seconds.

They had tried to catch up to the Master Chief as he carved his way through the mass, that sword of his leaving bright afterimages in the edges of his vision as it blurred its way from combat form to combat form.

Thoughts attempted to whisk their way into the frontal sectors of his mind, whispering that that great two-pronged glowing stick of his would have been rather nice to know about, but he dashed them aside. It didn't matter; they needed to move faster, needed to keep up with the armored giant.

"-and offer room-"

The ranks of the repurposed dead were closing in further and further, taking their time to play with their food as they continued, that multifaceted voiced taunt continuing to work its way inside their heads like a bundle of worms.

Miranda and Jack rushed forward, biotics knocking back a surge of the Flood that were attempting to close off the Spartan from the rest of the group. Part of Shepard wanted to call them back, to hold formation and move together as a unit, but such luxuries of battles were for, well, battles… not routs. He pumped his legs harder as he fired, showing the rest of the squad the way as they continued their flight. Just a bit more-

"-a fate you must abide!"

A multitude of the lumpy two-legged variants Cortana had shown them back on the Normandy waddled and fell into view, cutting the team in half. Feet screamed to a halt as forward momentum was attempted to be dissuaded from carrying him further in what was going to be a very painful direction in the next couple of seconds, it decided to take him along for bit of a ride anyways. He stumbled a few steps more and only managed to regain his composure just as the carriers swelled to extremely inadvisable sizes. He endeavored to scramble backwards as fast as he could. He hadn't quite worked out the blast radius on those damn things yet, but if what he was thinking was accurate, he was just a tad too clos-

The mass of bulbous Flood forms detonated, knocking the breath from James' chest and sending him off and into the air as if he had had access to his own personal catapult. The next thing he saw was the dark ground rushing up to meet him rather quickly and then stars exploded across his vision. Blinded, he let loose a drone to buy some time, the simple construct's discharge staggering him again a moment later as he shook the clouds from his head. But on the bright side it was another moment that he wasn't being swarmed by putrid monstrosities.

Huh, he could have sworn he had landed near a large grouping.

Light blossomed before his eyes as a vision straight out of apology letters of Citadel visits past took up position in front of him. He never thought he'd have ever been happy to see Grunt wielding the Firestorm with that avalanche like laughter of his again, but he'd have been damned if it didn't feel superb to have been proven wrong. The cumbersome weapon carved out a path in front of them, the intense flames incinerating exposed flesh effortlessly. The ex-Spectre could see the acrid smoke coming off the remains of broken bodies guaranteed to never crawl back to their feet again.

"Keep moving Grunt!" yelled the combat engineer as he took up a position behind the massive Krogan and opened fire on the ranks behind them. Maker, they looked a lot angrier now, its trap must not have been going to its liking. Well, now they just had to find-

A flash of fire and biotics off to their right blossomed into view and then, as if by a conjuror's trick, Zaeed and Samara came dashing through the smoky clearing to join up with the Commander and Grunt's charge.

"You sure know how to make sure I earn every goddamn credit Cerberus is paying me, Shepard," managed the mercenary through an angry growl as the old warrior downed a leaping combat form as the team reunited and followed the sentient fire plow.

"Just making sure you can pull your weight, old man," grunted the Commander as he launched a cryo blast at a surge of shamblers, the freezing charge washing over them and slowing them immediately. The still forms lasted for only a moment before the numbers behind them shattered them without a thought to get at the squad. "Did you two happen to see where the others got to?"

"Cortana directed us to you," replied Samara as another flash of biotics flew out and slapped a corpse from the air, slamming it into a group of others and bowling them over. "She suggested we take the main exit. The Master Chief and the others were closer to the tunnels."

"Well," started James as he peered around the slab of armored muscle that was Grunt and past the arcing flames spewing from him to see their exit yawning invitingly towards them behind a rather large collection of combat and infection forms. He sighed and then continued with, "that's absolutely fantastic… now for us to get there. Grunt?"

"Shepard?" growled back the krogan as he twisted in a larger arc to aim what James could hastily recall as his 'fun cannon' on a better spread of gleeful discharge.

"Think you can carve us a way out?" A bark of laughter echoed back at the ex-Spectre, somehow managing to spark a touch of hope and apprehension at the same time as the mountain of armor accelerated.

The Flood seemed to be raining and, well, flooding from every corner of the room now, all rushing, limping, and leaping to slow the group just enough. Gunfire rippled out of the darkness, stabbing at their shields, but it was too little too late. Pale hall light washed over them as they stepped across the doorway, James instinctively rushed to the panel and set to work with his offhand as the nightmare poured toward them.

"Hold them back," ordered the Commander as his fingers danced around the door control, and, as if to mock his instructions, the threshold answered by moving along its guides as if it had been greased with molasses. With an eye turned toward the wailing burbling horde working its way to the door through sheer weight of numbers, the engineer growled a curse and ripped into the safety protocols as if they had been purposefully responsible for insulting his mother, whoever the hell she was.

Metaphorical black treacle burned away immediately in the face of more targeted ministrations as the engineer dumped more and more power towards an already far too taxed motor. Twisted limps reached out like a rotten forest, straining to make it through what was left of the gap, and then-

"Vauld's almighty quads, that was fun," rumbled Grunt from somewhere above him, slamming the door on the ex-Spectre's recollections and locking it tightly.

-the door closed allowing only a far too familiar pounding and knocking to continue.

The prone man managed to open a lazy eye revealing a grinning toothy smile leaning down at him. Somewhere, someone would be waking up from a nightmare of something very similar to that look, but for some reason, to James the sight was rather reassuring.

"You alive?"

"Probably," mumbled Shepard as he rolled onto his side and then gingerly began the arduous task of placing his feet underneath himself. Hell, if he managed to live through this all he was going to need to take a trip to cryo just for the therapy. "Everyone else okay?"

"For now, Shepard," answered Samara as she stretched out a helpful hand, he took it eagerly, dragging himself to a much more effective posture once more. He allowed a wave of medi-gel to wash over his body, the aches and pain dropping down to mere annoyance levels in a few heartbeats. "Though I suggest we keep moving."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," managed the engineer as he attempted to hail Cortana, Miranda, or the Chief, Jack on principal was about as reliable with comms as a waterlogged receiver. However, what reached back out at him was nothing but static. "We're on our own now."

The quartet worked their way up the winding stairs, weapons at the ready for any lurking forms, but none chose to venture forth from what little shadows found their home in the well-lit staircase. And then, with a swoosh that was entirely too energetic for the atmosphere, the squad emerged onto the dark streets once more, the wind whipping and tearing at them immediately as if in greetings.

"The hell?" growled James as something the approximate size and shape of a mutant bit of pollen slapped against his faceplate. He brushed it off with his hand and followed it as it drifted lazily onwards and upwards to join the multitude of others riding along on the currents.

And it is for that reason that his eyes noticed a strange dark shape moving about against the overcast night sky. It seemed to be getting bigger and bigger and seemed to be taking the shape of an air car… coming straight for them.

"Move!"

OOOO

The spores drifted down from the heavens like the cruelest mockery of the planet's natural weather, twirling insidiously on the backdrop of the stormy night sky. They cartwheeled and somersaulted along unseen currents as they drew ever closer to streets that were far too full of combat forms rushing towards an alleyway. The multitude of ambling bodies flowed over one another as they attempted to press through the confined way like a sentient wall, one of the spores only just making it through a crack and sweeping up into the air once more from the sudden change in currents.

The spore flew along until once more its kinetic energy betrayed it and it came drifting down towards a puddle. However, before a growth could begin to take hold on its firm foundation, a trio of paired boots stomped unknowingly upon it splattering the supercell along the alley wall. A handful of moments later, a biotic wave like a thunderclap slammed into the very same wall of twisted flesh that had triggered the organism's last moments, sending the remains and the pursuers back, but only for the barest of moments.

Jack was not panting from fatigue, though, from the rate she was having to use her biotics to knock their hunters down a peg or two, she was well on her way to making that a more legitimate concern. No, this was more the kind driven into being by the presence of far too much adrenaline in a system that had only ever exceeded in doses metered out in short controlled bursts, a presence that had only continued to grow ever since landing on this rock and spiking higher still as they exited the 'safety' of the tunnels. Organs and muscles wired to the fraying point operated themselves like an obsessive cocaine addict set to house clean, finishing tasks far faster than their to-do-lists could generate. This was all because, if there was something that the diminutive woman had learned to do over the course of her short life, it had been to push beyond her boundaries and survive. And, speaking of surviving-

Jack's instincts had her stopping her flight once more as she had done so many times during their mad dash through the choked side streets of Vulpes' downtown, faced the bulging mass of Flood forms forcing their way down the gap like a ghoulish tidal wave, sneered, and let loose another massive surge of biotic power. Mortar and other loose fixings crumbled and were swept up in the ebon wind, slamming into the sentient wall of flesh like a blast from the world's largest shotgun.

The tide stopped, caught up on the weight of its own fallen, but the convict had already turned and continued, knowing what was to come next. A moment later, there was a rumble and the temporary dam flew apart as if by explosives, the flow marching ever onward.

"Going to have a fucking problem here soon," yelled Jack as she rounded a corner and caught up with the Chief and Miranda, joining in with the forward push as they downed a handful of burbling combat forms. And, with the added help, the trio was soon rushing over the remains of the former humans and batarians, arms pumping to drive them faster still.

"We'll be able to get off the streets soon," reasoned Cortana in a voice most likely synthesized to instill a bit of calm into the party but ultimately only serving to set the convict's teeth further on edge. "If you keep up the pace you should be able to make it inside before we attract too large of a crowd."

"That's a little easier said than done," grumbled Miranda, as they exited onto a main street and came face to face with a group easily twice the size of the one already chasing them. "Bloody hell…"

"Wwwwhy persist in fruitless flight-"

"Fuck off!" screamed Jack as she launched push after push at the throng around them, the Cerberus Operative quickly joining in as the Spartan snapped that sword of his to life once more. It was bad enough that this shit storm kept upping the volley content every few minutes they were here, and then the stupid things just had to go and grow a frontal lobe or two and start talking, their words burrowing into her mind like maggots. "Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! FUCK OFF!"

"-searching through this mire-"

And with a fury pulling itself up from the lands of pure, unadulterated outrage, they were through the initial press, plunging off along another side street. Unfortunately, Jack didn't need to turn her head to know what was swiftly clambering after them, but, then again, she wasn't entirely in the right state of mind to fully contemplate this at the moment.

"How much further?" growled the convict as she gathered more energy, readying for the turn she knew would be necessary all too soon. Her lungs ached and her body attempted to rebel, pleading for a few more precious seconds of reprieve before they were put to task once more, but she shoved the concerns away.

"-suffering on towards the dawn-"

"Only a couple of blocks more to the emergency beacon," replied Cortana as a waypoint placed itself onto her HUD. The small woman only just managed to bite back an angry curse at the unbidden usurpation of her viewing space, bringing the sentiment down to a mere simmer. "At least until we're inside again, anyways."

"Well aren't you just filled with good news," mumbled the tattooed biotic behind an unfamiliar faceplate as she turned once more and let loose with a shuddering scream.

"-to plunge into the fire."

Before she could continue her flight, however, a pair of combat forms flung themselves over the latest temporary barricade far faster than the rest of their compatriots, bearing down on the drained woman like a duo of fleshy missiles. Brown eyes widened as part of her attempted to draw forth more ebon energy while the other, knowing this would be as worthless as a spit in the ocean, brought her rifle to bear and set to work. Mass accelerator rounds tore out of the telescopic machinery and slammed into the closer of the two forms, fires blossoming across its chest and soon spreading across the rest of its mortal coil and burning it mid-flight. Though, just as she turned her barrel to an already far too close second, the weapon made a heart-wrenching 'click'.

Before her brain could think to do anything else, a tentacled appendage backhanded her, launching her down the alleyway with a strength criterion beyond its normal human setting.

"Need som-" started Jack as she tried to scramble to her feet, her ribs and left arm sending throbbing aches to her head in an incessant protest. But just as she had begun to speak, a pair of glowing blue orbs flew past her, latching onto the walls just ahead of the trembling dam of former building materials and Flood.

Twin flashes shed a blinding light out in all directions and crumbled the walls to either side to send a fresh cascade of rubble down into the path. And, just as the remaining Flood form attempted to storm forward to finish the job to a chorus of angry wails, a strong hand was pulling her to her feet while a hail of mass accelerator fire rendered the corpse useless.

"Green?" rumbled the Spartan from above her as Miranda and he helped her along, a laundry list of additional body parts voicing complaint after complaint.

"Like you?" she retorted as she momentarily allowed the pair to hold her weight, basking in the temporary reprieve. If she could just take a few seconds to forget about the rhyming dead, freezing temperatures, suits that still didn't fit just right, and brainwashed children, that would be just swell.

"Can you move?" pressed the large man again as the team flew out of the alley, the little numbers next to the point on her heads-up display growing satisfyingly smaller now.

"Just give me a bit-" started Jack before a feminine hand slapped across the back of her helmet, immediately jerking the convict into the lands of anger and onto her feet once more. "Fuck you!"

"She's fine."

OOOO

It was inevitable that the sheer force of medical know-how wrapped in the organic shape of the one known as Dr. Chakwas would find Tali. This is not to say for a lack of trying by way of misdirection and in some cases outright lies to deter the doctor, but just that it was in the end still highly expected.

What wasn't expected, however, at least in the quarian's mind, was that, after a lengthy and at some points louder conversation wherein long and complicated words with meanings barely understood without the aid of a bulwark of thesauruses flew into the room like arrows aimed directly at each opponent's head, the human doctor had eventually relinquished her responsibility and walked calmly out the door she had entered. The words 'so long as you're sure' hung icily in the air like a moment frozen in time seeming to repeat themselves over and over again long after their originator had vacated the premises.

"Well, shall we continue? Much more to do," orated the salarian as he turned back towards their makeshift workstation, setting about his ministrations once more. After a moment, perhaps sensing the weight of helmeted gaze, he looked back up in innocent confusion. "Something I can help you with?"

"Hmm? No, sorry," stumbled Tali as she shook herself back into the present and made her way over to the device that was rapidly taking shape into something far more lethal than it had been earlier that day. Her legs were starting to get weak again, but she pushed through it. The faster they could get this done, the faster they could use it once Shepard and the others got back from this nightmare.

And so, the pair worked on diligently in silence, only breaking it here and there when the work itself required additional instruction. Although, these moments began to come further and further apart the deeper they got into the design. Every once in a while, the quarian had to stop to marvel at the blueprints that Mordin had drawn up and shake her head at the absurdity. It was all so straight forward, he could have had a pyjack help and the result would still be roughly the same.

"EDI," said the salarian after some time, the casualness with which he could utter that designation causing the engineer to fumble a tool she had just picked up, "please begin fabrication procedures for materials three, seven, and eleven. Will let you know when ready."

"Of course, doctor," replied the artificial intelligence automatically, the response sending a shiver down the quarian's back before she reminded herself that James and the others were facing things far more cringe worthy than a simple man made digital construct that-

The nomad buried the thoughts as deep as she could, taking up the tool once more to continue her work despite them. Unfortunately, however, it only took a few moments for the musings to grow enough out of the darker portions of her psyche to once more take front stage, waving their logic and reasons out in a surge of mental leaflets.

Three AI's! They have to deal with three now! Three outright slaps in the face of her people's plight that she had to work with on a dail-

"Can't you just work the fabricator yourself?" she asked before she could help herself, her tones rapidly approaching a brief stint into annoyance. She sighed as she turned her gaze towards the scientist. Well, it was too late now to avoid the conversation, might as well see it through.

"No, no, needed here. Two workers, maximum efficiency. Timetable must be kept," replied Mordin without even bothering to look up, without a sense of what she had really meant. To be so lost in one's work, she wished she could pull that off more often. Well, at least she could avoid having to press any further along that pa- "Besides, absolute precision needed, no room for error. Cortana very specific."

"Excuse me?"

"Cortana: AI carried and hidden by Master Chief," clarified the salarian automatically, his words straining for a moment as he reached up to the shoulder inside the casing. He paused, as if a thought had struck him squarely in the head and managed to occupy it for more than the handful of microseconds that was natural to the landscape. "Strange, believed Shepard would, had, explained. I can if nec-"

"No, Shepard explained," answered Tali deliberately as her hands went back to work if somewhat more slowly than before. "What I meant is why was it 'very specific?'"

"Schematics provided by her." A nonchalant shrug erupted along those slender shoulders as the scientist extricated himself from the device, brushed his hands together, looked down at them, and stuck an arm back in to pull out the forgotten tool. "Thought was very good design. Besides, instructions from source always better than assumptions, guesswork."

"Yes, but why did you need her help at all? Keelah, they're not that hard to make… if you have the materials," countered the quarian in a tone of voice that suggested when one truly got down to it they really weren't that hard, in a purely academic way of course.

"She-"

"It," corrected Tali unhelpfully as prejudice impulses garnered over years of experience attempted to assert some portion of her beliefs into the face of such trust.

"Projected avatar, female shape. Synthesized voice, higher pitch. 'Body' language reminiscent to standard human female procedures. Identification as she, apt," rattled off Mordin as if he were giving a lecture in a university, listing off the facts. He nodded at his own rationalization, as if to add and that's how that is. He cocked his head as if he had forgotten exactly how he'd come to this particular bit of dialogue. A moment later, an excited 'ah' signaled that this was no longer the case. "She suggested known larger range of detonation with given design. Reviewed personally, agreed. Concerned with current solution, possibly temporary, stalling method. Have to be certain."

Silence spread itself between the two just as the words finished their reverberations around the room, settling in to watch the quarian's mind dance. She stared at the doctor as he casually returned his full attention to his work, her own hands doing the same if only to help her think. A multitude of arguments tried themselves on for size within her head as she balked in the face of such simplicity. He had to know what they could do, what they could truly do, couldn't he? Then agai-

"Wondering how so naïve?" asked Mordin aloud, jarring Tali almost audibly out of her thoughts. She peered at him and then at the nearest mirror wondering if she'd somehow subconsciously started writing out her feelings on her head, well, at least more in a literal sense this time around. "Not naïve, learned to trust. Was wary when first joined Normandy, cautious of Cerberus, cautious of Shepard, cautious with AI. Never hindrance though. Eventually must leap, if only to see what will happen. Normal experimentation proceeds. Otherwise stagnant."

Again, he hadn't looked up, not for the entire diatribe, just continued his ministrations as if he were discussing an interesting tidbit of genetics. The words planted themselves firmly within her mind, squaring off with her instincts almost instantaneously. Before she could comment however, a synthesized voice broke into the room once more.

"Fabrication complete, doctor."

And so, Tali sighed and continued her work.

OOOO

Miranda's body slumped against the shipping and receiving warehouse's wall the moment the threshold slid locked behind them without even a thought to do so, breath coming in deep ragged lungfuls to catch up with the deficit of the past hour's flight. Moments later, knocks, slams, and warbling cries began reverberating through the hopefully strong enough material but she paid them no mind. Her brain had already regulated this now oh so common noise to the typical background clutter and was now more preoccupied with getting her incompliant legs and arms to function as it dictated.

Before she could begin trying more punitive measures to prod her limbs back into motion, however, a sharp rap on the side of her head had adrenaline spiking into her system once more, supercharging her limbs into a frenzy. She turned to her right, a biotic glow beginning to ripple around her as she prepared to face whatever threat was bearing do-

"That's for hitting me out there," laughed Jack in dark satisfaction from a place on the wall beside her, her shoulders shaking with equal parts mirth and weariness. The ebon glow dispersed around her, but the adrenaline remained and, having nowhere to use itself up along normal movement requirements, funneled its electrifying gift towards an all too eager anger.

"It got us in here faster," snapped Miranda back crossly as she laid herself back against the same support once more.

"Don't care," shrugged the smaller woman as she rebutted on pure instinct now, "you don't fucking hit me, ever."

"Bloody savage," she retorted halfheartedly under her breath, far too tired to argue much further despite the inject of energy into her system.

"Prissy cheerleading bitc-"

"Not to interrupt bonding time," came the amused voice of Cortana over the comms, snapping the two from their verbal sparring. It was so very weird getting use to that, almost as bad as having to get used to Jack, "but in case anyone was curious; the emergency beacon is still actively pinging a few floors up from our current location."

"Have you been able to contact them?" asked the raven-haired woman, hoping that the them was actually a them and, more importantly, excluded a certain individual.

"Strangely no," answered the artificial intelligence in obvious confusion, she could almost see the frown on her face. "Either the beacon's just running on auto without anyone around or someone's turned it on and either lost their comms or decided to not keep it on… not exactly great forward thinking on their part if that's the case."

"I can think of a few who might try it," mumbled the Cerberus Operative to herself as she sensed the approaching end to break time and pressed herself off the warehouse's wall.

"There's a skyway connecting a few of the nearby buildings together on around that floor as well. We could check out the signal on our way ther-"

"Or we could keep our focus on the mission," offered Miranda before she could stop herself, immediately drawing the party's attentions. And, she noted with mounting dread that a certain convict seemed to be giving her a rather calculating look.

"I think we should check." Bloody hellfire.

"What?" she stated automatically, more as an exclamation point than an actual question.

"You heard me," replied Jack, unknowingly yet completely agreeing with this assessment.

"Why…"

"It's what Shepard would do," she answered in a voice so surgery sweet it was hard to tell for a moment that it had in fact managed to come out of that bald container of insanity.

"You hate doing what he does…" growled the operative in a tone of voice that added every ounce of the 'why are you doing this?'

"Because, I think you know who's up there," provided Jack as she casually stretched her arms over her head, the popping joints seeming to hammer in her point, "and if they're able to piss you off half as much I think they can, then that's fine by me."

"This is hardly the time to-"

"Once more, yes, this is hardly the time to be doing this," interrupted Cortana unenthusiastically, almost as if she was about to. Oh no- "but Jack's not wrong either, even if it's for the wrong reasons-"

"Hey!"

"-I've seen the floorplan of the building… whoever's up there is at the very least resourceful."

"That's what I'm worried about," added Miranda under her breath, as the Chief began to move off, the two women following in his silent wake.

"We'll check," he rumbled in non-committal tones, or at least what passed for them with respect to the silent giant. It was probably the best she was going to get at the moment.

The trio exited the warehouse without another word, past the remains of a broken barricade and followed the bloodstains to a debris strewn set of stairs. Unfortunately enough for them, that was about as far as the silence dared take them.

A menagerie of Flood forms stormed down the flight, all too happy to take a chance at ending their progress. A hail of rounds shot down at them as the twisted things charged and leapt toward them. They weren't accurate, but then again, they didn't need to be with the spread they were managing to put together.

The squad fell back immediately, firing as they backpedaled and, to Miranda's dismay noticed kinetic barriers flaring up to meet them on each of the advancing forms. Well that was just fantastic, but, then again-

A crackle of energy erupted in the midst of the former humans as the Operative engaged an overload, knocking out their advantage. But as she raised her weapon to meet them once more, the resulting click followed by the hiss of venting was rather heart wrenching.

And, just as she had managed to pull another thermal clip out, they were upon them.

The Master Chief set himself squarely in their path, drawing the ire of a handful as that sword of his snapped back into life with a blinding flash while a pair of forms each bore down on the supporting biotics.

Miranda rolled back as one leapt at her, watching as the ground cracked slightly under the force of that strike as she finally reloaded her weapon and brought it to bear. A slam enveloped the one to her right, the combat form's appendages flying in all directions as it hit the ground while the other quickly caught fire.

In a few more seconds it was over, unfortunately enough for her more competitive side, it was a few more than the others' few. She needed to be faster, they couldn't keep getting bogged down like this.

"Status?" asked the Chief softly as the two-pronged deadly light source, that the Cerberus Operative was more than convinced was also plasma based, snapped back into inactivity and was placed on his hip.

"Uninjured," answered Miranda as she pressed herself to her feet once more.

"Not dead…" came Jack's reply, disappointing more than a few sectors of the biotic's brain.

The large man nodded wordlessly as he turned to make his way up the stairs, the pair following him instinctively as they kept their eyes peeled towards the unlit sectors of hallway.

It was hard to tell, especially since the man always seemed to only add a word or two to the conversations, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the otherworldly soldier wasn't even tiring yet. Despite the multitude of fresh marks upon his armor, despite bearing the brunt of their burdens-

"I'm picking up active comm traffic. Splicing it in now," interjected Cortana into the silence, causing the biotic to jump just enough to earn a snicker from a certain convict.

"Not sure who you are," came a crackling voice over the general comms moments later, but you just got the attention of the bastards that were waiting for me…so… good luck… I guess…"

Damn damn damn and bloody damn, she thought to herself as she vehemently inspected her weapon to keep from shouting out loud and pressed up the stairs with the others just as the telltale cries of advancing Flood forms echoed from above. Of course he was still alive, the human cockroach never failed to scrape through, to the impairment of the galaxy.

She could feel the smugness that Jack was exuding, well, she'd soon change that tune when they came face to face with that bastard-

"Incoming," barked the Master Chief as a large monstrosity rounded the bend.

The krogan, because as Miranda thought there was probably no other sentient species in the known galaxy that could fit the overall shape barreling towards them better, had seemed to have taken to the Flood infestation quite well, at least doubling in size. An arm like a kite shield wrapped in rotting roots held itself out in front as it advanced down the nearest flight and accelerated, a pair of former batarians and turians following in its wake.

Flames burned uselessly against the latest abomination's shield as it bore down on them, heading straight towards the Master Chief and seemingly to leave the lesser forms to the women. Well, it would find that that was probably a-

The turian forms slipped down to all fours, pressed themselves momentarily into the ground and then shot towards her like a pair of organic cruise missiles. The operative was only just able to dive under them, narrowly avoiding the sharpened head spikes.

As she came back up she laid a warp upon them, the twisting energies magnifying the ensuing mass accelerator rounds as they flew from her readied weapon. One stepped in front of the other, blocking the hail of rounds as it advanced and then began to fall slowly under its inherited fire, just as the second launched itself at her once more.

She managed only a quick blast of biotics, enough to divert it just enough to avoid being pierced. One of its arms, however, managed to fly into her chest, knocking her cleanly to the ground and the air out of her lungs. Impulsively she continued to fire at it, somehow managing to down it before it could skid to a complete halt.

Miranda took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to enjoy what was surprisingly comfortable ground, but an unfamiliar roar had her scrambling to her feet once more.

She watched as blue plasma tore through the body of the Krogan monstrosity, her weapon dipping as she thought the situation dealt with, but it raised itself again as the holes began to seal themselves up once more.

Fire leapt up along its back and sides as Jack and the operative opened up on the larger form, driving it to its legs as its body attempted to keep going, at least until a sword began carving off whole sections at a time. Even then, the slabs of meat seemed to want to pull towards each other, but armored boots soon solved even that problem.

"Glad this wasn't a Krogan colony…" said the convict finally through a sigh of relief as the last echoes of gunfire played themselves around the building's interior.

"Well, you're not wrong," answered Cortana as the super soldier began jogging forward once more, as if he hadn't just had to forcibly dissect several thousand pounds of angry flesh.

"Wait," said Jack hurridly, Miranda and the Chief turning back with weapons raised as they halted mid-step, "we can't let Grunt know-"

"What?" said Miranda and Cortana simultaneously, anger and confusion mixing together ever so nicely.

"-that big scaly bastard will just keep going on and on about how superior krogan are…" The other humans stared silently at her for a moment, then, wordlessly turned back to head further up the stairs.

"What?"

Author's Note II: Will definitely have the next chapter up by the end of August/very beginning of September. Hope everyone enjoyed and I'll catch you next time.