Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria
Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.
Chapter 35: Dissension
Leahr'Haan sat at the foremost console on the bridge, as the zooming stars outside painted their streaking reflections on his burgundy faceplate. The holographic controls in front of him were lit up, showcasing a vast array of readings and indications. Near the edge of the console, upon a small ledge, rested his laptop, which showed the position of the remaining mechanized troops still on roving patrol throughout the grand Illustria. Only about three quarters of the initial number of units brought on-board still remained online.
Leahr subtly glanced over his shoulder, and swiveled his chair around a few, acute degrees. The Bridge, which had formerly been occupied by Commander Andrew Kim, Weyrloc Kargas, and the de facto Captain; Tarrik Shon, was now instead occupied by himself, and two rather burly looking security officers, standing guard by the bridge entrance - or for his intents and purposes, the bridge exit.
Both guards, a pair of brawny human males, stood poised, with their chests out and their hands clasped behind their backs, with the guise of Military MPs standing watch over a secure facility. Upon noticing the antsy quarian's eyes upon them, they reciprocated with a cold, hard, gaze, as if to say "try to escape, and we'll shoot you dead."
Leahr grit his teeth under his mask, as a sense of determination overtook him. He coyly turned back around and went to work on his laptop. Like a master pianist whose fingers danced upon the ivories, his fingers punched away at the holographic keyboard, with a blistering series of swipes, strokes, and clicks.
The halls of the Illustria were empty now. The officers had finished their sweeps for stragglers and valuables, and had mostly retreated back up to the Promenade Deck Casino, where the immense number of hostages were still being detained. The only ones that still lingered within the barren innards of the rest of the ship were the LOKI assault mechs. They continuously wandered the halls in a heedless, pre-programmed routine that they dared not deviate from. But just then, across every level of the ship, port to starboard, aft to fore, the entire ensemble of mechanized troops came to an utter and complete halt, in perfect, synchronous unison. They stood there for a moment; motionless metal statues, frozen in time. And then, just as abruptly as they had come to a halt, they suddenly began moving again. Many continued on in the exact same direction they were going, while others did a complete 180, and turned about in the other direction. Some mounted stairs and began to ascend, while others higher up began a descent. Slowly, lone wanderer mechs unified with other units, becoming duos and eventually trios, and quartets. Whatever they were doing - wherever they were going - one thing was clear… They were converging the same location.
A salarian security officer was the first to exit the stairway, into a long, curved hallway - or more accurately, a long, curved promenade.
The floors here were made of fine, polished, cherry wood planks, and ever so often you'd stumble upon a lounging chair, or some benches and a table. One could simply come out here and take a leisurely stroll that would circumvent the entire ship, or simply sit back and watch the stars whiz by outside at faster than light speeds. It wasn't unlike the promenades that circled the decks of normal, sea-fairing cruise ships. Really the only difference was, instead of looking out onto a vast, endless ocean, where the sun would bid the horizon goodnight - there was an infinitely expansive universe of blazing, celestial bodies burning against an ocean of black ether.
But as breathtaking as it could be, it may as well have been a poorly printed Starry Night reproduction hanging in a dentist's office, as a small train of captors and captives stepped out of a nearby stairway, and onto the promenade. John Shepard was the next one out, behind the salarian, followed closely by Dr. Freeman, Commander Kim, Cameron McClane, little Matty Farrell, with the human and turian officers bringing up the rear.
Kim kept a tight grip on his shotgun, as he held it aimed squarely into Freeman's back, even though he showed no immediate intent to use it.
Behind him, Cameron kept a firm grip on little Matty's hand, who obediently followed along. Cameron would look down ever so often, and give him a smile, which he generally tried to reciprocate. But she could feel the tremble of his body coursing through his shivering little hand. Her only hope was that he wasn't feeling the shaking of hers.
"So now what are we supposed to do…?" Gordon asked, leaning forward, as close as he could to Shepard, without trampling the backs of his heels, as they marched on. "You said they'd never find that key…"
"I didn't think they would." John subtly replied, ever so slightly reclining his head back. "They don't seem all that smart… Of course, I wasn't counting on Krait-Viper Kim being here. From what I've heard, the guy's no joke."
Kim chuckled under his breath, and grinned self-confidently - obviously aware of everything that was being said - as they moved on through the promenade.
"...Well, what are we gonna do now?"
"You're the one with PhD, aren't you?" Shepard replied, with a mild, sarcastic titter - doing his best to offer up some levity in spite of the dire situation. "Why don't you think of something?"
"Hey, I usually just fly by the seat of my pants." Gordon rebutted, with a discontented shrug, as they approached the glowing entrance to the Promenade Deck's casino. "Plans and strategies are supposed supposed to be your department, aren't they?"
"Alright, that's enough, shut up!" Kim scalded, jabbing the barrel of his shotgun hard, into Gordon's back, causing him to stumble forward a bit. Gordon turned and glared a hole straight through the baleful cyclops.
"Keep it moving, Mr. 'Free Man'." Kim chided, with his gun in Gordon's face.
"It's alright, Gordon." Shepard reassured, trying to keep his friend from doing something rash, as he too turned to look back. "Don't worry, we'll think of something."
Gordon's ire-imbued stare faded to a look of concede, as he slowly turned back around, and marched on. From the doorway ahead, they could hear a cacophony of indiscernible chatter, and see a flickering, orange glow spilling out from the entrance.
They stepped into the massive room, and immediately their eyes swept across the frightened, pleading faces of a thousand distressed souls. Thronged across the floor, where there once stood skyllian-5 tables, Quasar machines, and roulette wheels, was a disarrayed horde of frightened passengers, from all walks of the galaxy.
"MATTY!" A high-pitched shriek, resonating with fear, relief, joy, and angst, erupted from the crowd, as a woman in a silky, dark green evening gown shot up from the floor, and dashed in Shepard's direction - heedlessly clambering over anyone and anything in her path. That is until she was forcibly held back by two of the officers who had secured an impassable perimeter around the seated hostages.
"No! Let me go! That's my son!" She begged and pleaded, as a man in a dark gray dinner suit, with a bandaged head wound staggered over to her side, and joined her in trying to push through.
"Mommy! Daddy!" Young Matthew cried out at the sight of his parents, as he reciprocated their desperation by trying flee towards them, only to be held back, by the collar, by their human officer escort. "No! Leave me alone! That's my mom and dad!"
"He just wants to go to his parents!" Shepard declared, hiding some semblance of a plea beneath his commanding presence, as he turned to face Kim. "Let him go."
"Matthew! Son!" His father cried out, trying to push through the barricade of guards, in a feeble, weakened state.
Kim shrugged and acquiesced, as he turned to his human subordinate. "It's alright, let the kid go." He ordered, pointing a backwards thumb over his shoulder, towards the boy's parents.
The officer obediently released his hold on Matty, who immediately took off running forward. But he wasn't more than a few steps out when he screeched to a halt, and turned back to look at Shepard, with a tearful semblance in his eye. He pointed up at John and looked over at the one-eyed instigator. "Let them go too…!" He begged, with a trembling chin, as tiny teardrops dripped from his eyes.
"No, trooper. It's okay." John assured, with a shake of his head. "Don't worry about us. Go to your parents…"
Matty stood there for a moment, refusing to move, as he sniffled and cried.
"Really buddy, it's okay. Go on…"
Matty turned around slowly, as if not wanting to take his eyes of Shepard, for fear of it being the last time he would ever see him again. But eventually, the love and want of his parents took over, especially when he saw them reaching for him. He shot forward, across the casino's carpeted floor, as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Oh, Matty! My beautiful little boy!" Angela exclaimed, as her son ran into her arms, past the blockade of officers. She scooped him up in her arms, as she and his father both embraced him tighter than they ever had before, planting a non-stop barrage of kisses and caresses on his face. "Oh, thank god! Thank god! Thank god!" She cried out, bursting into tears.
"Son, are you alright?! Are you hurt, son?!" His father beckoned, as he ran his hands up his back and down his shoulders to search for injury.
"No, daddy I'm okay…" Matty bashfully assured.
"Oh my god…!" Alex exhaled a tremendous sigh of relief, as the largest knot he had ever felt lodged itself into his throat. He leaned forward, kissing his boy upon the brown hair on his head, as he embraced him tightly. He then looked up towards the two battered figures, brought in in handcuffs, who were obviously the ones responsible for getting their son back to them.
"Thank you…!" He shouted across the room, with tears flooding his eyes. "By god, thank you!"
John nodded, exhibiting a forlorn smile, as a large knot crept into his own throat.
"Well, isn't that just the most touching thing you ever saw…!" A shrill, grating voice, followed by a sharp respirator hiss, declared with an exaggerated helping of sarcasm. "I just love tearful reunions, like this!"
John, Gordon, and Cameron all looked to their left, toward the source of the abrasive voice, to find a haughty volus, poised with a regal stance, and a white naval cap upon his brow.
"You must be Tarrik…" John decidedly conjectured through tightly gritted teeth, as if doing his best to restrain his every impulse of rage and violence.
"Indeed I am…" The imperious volus asserted, as he stepped forward, like a triumphant conqueror. "And you are the great Commander Shepard… The Reaper Slayer himself… accompanied by the one who, I can only assume, is the man they call Gordon Freeman…" He reverently proclaimed, as he looked over the battered scientist. "The Opener of the Way, if I'm not mistaken…"
"I did a bit of Extranet research on the two of you, while I was bottled up in that alcove of a bridge." He elaborated, as he placed his hands behind his back, and turned about, beginning to pace around in soliloquy. "And I must say, I'm both impressed and fascinated. It is beyond me how you obtained such a man as this, into your employ, Shepard." He said, befuddled, as he pointed a stubby arm towards Gordon. "And yet, lo and behold… Here the two of you are… Humanity's greatest exemplars… brought before me in chains!"
"Alright, listen here you little hot air buffoon." John angrily began to dictate - clearly having had enough of the little creature's self-loving spiel. "I've had just about all I can stomach from you. I'm gonna give you one chance, and one chance only, to walk away from this with your life, you understand me?"
"Hot air buffoon?!" Tarrik snapped back, appalled at the audacious insult. "How dare you, Earth Clan! You are in no position to arbitrate ultimatums! And I'll have you know that it was my brilliance that orchestrated this entire endeavor!"
"Brilliance…?!" Shepard retorted sarcastically, as he tried to choke back a muffled chuckle. "You paid off a bunch of lunk-head security guards and stormed the ship! I'll grant you, it was effective…" He admitted with a loathful nod. "But brilliant is a bit of a stretch… Though, I'm sure you know a thing or two about stretching, don't you stumpy?" He quipped with a tumultuous chortle.
"Insolent knave!" Tarrik barked in retaliation, quickly losing his calm and composed disposition. "You will address me as Captain Shon, and give me the respect I so rightly deserve!"
"Captain Shon?! Hahaha!" John deliberately broke out into an unrestrained guffaw, as several of the hostages actually did the same - their laughs quickly grating against Tarrik's self-absorbed nerves. "This is bad comedy!" John expressed, pretending to not be able to contain his laughter. "Though I will admit, it's got me laughing, hahahaha!"
"Stop it!" Tarrik forcefully demanded, pointing a sharp, stubby finger up at the cackling Commander. "You will not laugh at me!" Suddenly, a dejecting sound found its way to his ear canals. It was the sound of a rambunctious murmur beginning to grow from whispers to laughs, as many of the hostages joined in Shepard's amusement. "Stop it! All of you! Stop laughing at me!"
"Enough!" A harrowing, dominating voice rang out - echoing throughout the deck, like a thundercrack booming across a stormy night sky. Without fail, the mutter of laughing voices was quelled into silence, as Shepard turned to face it's source; a massive, hulking silhouette waiting in the shadows of a nearby pillar. As silence swept across the room, the figure emerged from the shade, stepping out into the ambient, orange glow.
It was a krogan; scarred and bitter-faced. His flesh was a pale shade of green, in contrast to the bright, lime colored osteoderm plating crowning his head. He wore a sturdy and weathered set of armor, maroon in color and laden with the markings of a thousand won battles. Upon each of the shouldered, etched in chipping white paint, were two matching crests - an angry skull with the teeth and jaw line comprised of a tightly clenched fist. The mark of The Blood Pack.
"Shepard…" Kargas calmly addressed, as he encroached upon the handcuffed Commander. "I've been waiting a long time to confront you face to face…" He said, as he stepped right up to John. "Do you know who I am…?"
Shepard pretended to not understand the severity of the dire situation, despite knowing full well what it meant to stare down a Blood Pack krogan. "...The event coordinator?" He sarcastically remarked, with an indifferent shrug.
Kargas' only response was a momentary silence. He stood there, peering into Shepard's dusky-blue eyes, with a burning loathing - the sides of his upper lip twitching like an angry dog preparing to bare its teeth. And suddenly, the bellicose krogan bared his teeth indeed, as he snarled and lunged forward at Shepard, grabbing him by the throat, and hoisting him up, a good three feet off the ground. In spite of having grabbed John by the neck, no attempts were made at constricting his windpipe - this was an exhibition of strength, plain and simple.
"Well…!" John said in a bit of a froggy voice, still finding it a bit difficult to talk, in his current predicament. "Hello to you too, sunshine!"
Gordon flinched in Shepard's direction, only to be reminded not to make any sudden movements, by the stiff jab of a shotgun barrel in his chest from the fog-eyed Commander.
"Nnn-Nnn…" Kim dissuaded, with a rigid shake of his head.
The Normandy crew, seated along the far right wall under gunpoint, had a similar reaction to watching the plight of their intrepid leader and truest friend. But they too were suppressed by the barrels of a half a dozen aimed weapons.
"My name-" The krogan began to explain, still holding Shepard high up, above his head. "-is Weyrloc Kargas…"
"Weyrloc…?!"
"Yes…" Kargas replied with a grin - pleased to have invoked John's fearful, wide-eyed reaction. "I see that name still carries meaning for you." He said, as Shepard's legs dangled helplessly, two-feet off the ground. "At least you don't merely dismiss those that you slaughter and kill... I am the last remaining Weyrloc, Shepard - the one that's going to extract a slow and painful vengeance from you, for the wrongs that you've committed against me and my entire race. And especially… For my Lukala…!" He proclaimed, as he gradually began to tighten his grip around the human's throat.
"I didn't want to kill them!" John asserted in a hoarse voice, as his breathing was slowly stifled. "I tried to reach a peaceful resolution with clan Weyrloc! I appealed to your Clanspeaker! To Guld! But they wouldn't listen to reason hey left me no choice!"
"Nor do you leave me one now!" The krogan declared, as his iron-fisted grip turned into a full-on chokehold, slowly squeezing the life out of Shepard, with every diminishing breath he took.
"Hey!" Gordon shouted, as he watched his friend's lips begin to turn a dark shade of blue. He lunged forward, in an attempt to render aid, only to be shoved back again, by the deadly end of a shotgun.
"Watch it, Doctor Wannabe!" Kim remanded, raising the barrel up to the physicist's face. "Gordon Freeman might've been bulletproof, but I doubt you are!"
Shepard's eyes slowly to roll into the back of his head, as his breath seared his lungs.
"Easy, Kargas." A shrill voice offered up, with the hiss of a respirator. "Easy… No need to be impetuous… You wanted to savor this, remember?"
"Yes I do…" The krogan conceded with an odious grin. His grip ebbed as he lowered Shepard back down to his feet. The instant he was back to his own vertical base, before he could even take a breath, John felt the hand retract from his throat, only to have it smash into his face, in the form of a fist.
The crushing blow sent John spinning, and brought him down to his knees, with a newly opened gash, exuding blood from a purplish wound on his right cheek. "Ack! Augh!" John coughed, gagged, and respired - hunched down on the floor, as he tried to refill his lungs.
"Heh…!" Amazingly he chuckled, as soon as he could breathe again. "Ehehe…! So…" He said, as he turned back around to face the krogan. He drew one leg forward, planting his foot on the ground, and using it to rise back to his feet. "The last Weyrloc… taking orders from a Volus..."
"Orders?!" Kargas fired back, in a bolstered tone that resonated with a hint of embarrassment. "I take orders from no one!"
"Oh come on, sure you do!" John derided, with a cynical grin. "I mean, he said it himself, right?" He questioned, tilting his head towards the volus. "He's the one who put this whole thing together."
"What the hell's he doing?!" Jacob asked, as he watched Shepard actually begin to taunt these malcontents to the point of provocation.
"What he does best…" Garrus offered back, with an intrigued look in his eyes.
"Hey, he may have put this thing together, but he'd be nothing without the two of us!" Kim interjected with his own opinion, as he turned around to face Shepard - leaving Gordon and Cameron under the watchful eye of his peons.
"Sure…" John replied, with a dubious, condescending nod. "Hey, I'm curious…" He continued, turning his attention to the fog-eyed officer. "How many batarians did you fight off, back during the blitz?" He asked. "You know, I've heard some crazy stories. But they couldn't possibly be true, could they?"
"The hell they weren't!" Kim proudly retorted, arrogantly puffing out his chest. "I was a legend! The best the Alliance had ever seen! Long before you came along."
"Right, right…" Shepard agreed, in pretense, with a disingenuous nod. "Boy, I'll tell ya. I never thought I'd see the day… The Infamous Krait-Viper Kim, and the Warchief of Clan Weyrloc." He said, as he turned back to Kargas. "That is, technically accurate, right…?" He asked of the krogan, sounding unsure of himself, with a puzzled eyebrow raised. "I mean, if you're the last Weyrloc, that automatically makes you Warchief, doesn't it?"
"Uh… Yes!" Kargas quickly and eagerly acceded, after a brief stupor. "Yes, of course it does!"
John nodded. "Krait Viper Kim… And a Krogan Warchief…" He began again, looking back and forth between the two transgressors. "Taking orders from a volus…" He disparaged, as he looked past them, down to the snobbish Tarrik, and began clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Tsk… Tsk… Tsk… What's this galaxy coming to?"
Kargas and Kim could not resist turning to face each other, glaring with a hard stare and a condescending eye, as if trying to inform the other of their own individual superiority.
"Heheh!" Came a cavalier laugh, as Tarrik stepped forward, squeezing his way through the gap between the two scofflaws. "Shepard, do not think for one moment that I can't see what you're trying to do." He superciliously explained. "I must warn you, however, that this is an exercise in futility! Their loyalties to me are infallible." He declared, with his arms outstretched at his sides to encompass both the officer and the mercenary.
"Loyalties...?" Kim rang out, with a disapproving tone, and a brow furrowed in umbrage. "We're not your lapdogs, Tarrik. I'm just in this for the money!"
"Hmm…" Shepard hummed, intrigued, as he raised a pair of skeptic eyebrows and shrugged. "Sounds pretty fallible to me, 'Captain'. You know, I'll bet-" he continued, with an amiable tone, as he looked back to the two armored transgressors. "-he's been playing you two for saps, from the getgo. Hell, I wouldn't trust this manipulative little egomaniac. Think about it; you're a threat to him. And I'm sure, as far as he's concerned, you'd both be better off dead… Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me, one bit, if he's planning to have you two killed, when all this is through."
Kim's pursing lips, his daunted eyes, and a sudden nervous demeanor were what immediately gave him away, as he couldn't help himself from wincing and darting his pupils rapidly, back and forth between Kargas, and the floor. Tarrik also became imbued with a newfound fidgettiness that Shepard had yet to see from this 'orchestrator of grand schemes'.
"No…! You're kidding me…!" John's face beamed with a dumbfounded grin, unable to believe what he was seeing. "He is, isn't he?! And you know it! He's having YOU kill HIM, isn't he?" He beckoned, in shock, as he nodded towards Kargas.
"You were going to kill me?!" The massive krogan implored, enraged, as he turned his sights from Shepard, and dedicated them fully to the fog-eyed head of security.
"No!" Kim quickly denied, with a stutter in his voice. "Well, I… I mean, he wanted me to!" He renounced, pointing down at Tarrik, who quickly took two backpedaling steps, with his hands up, blamelessly. "But I wasn't gonna do it…! He said he'd found some rich buyer willing to pay a boatload of creds for Shepard, but that he had to be alive. And that you couldn't be trusted."
"He told me that YOU were the one that had the buyer for Shepard!" Kargas fired back, with an angry growl. "That your greed was insatiable, and that YOU couldn't be trusted!"
Just then, as the two men stood staring eachother down, they turned in unison, locking their gaze upon the same target; a viper-tongued, impudent little whelp of a volus.
"You little son of a bitch…" Kim snarled, through gritted teeth, as both he and Kargas heedlessly turned their backs on Shepard and Freeman - their sights completely consumed by the backpedaling volus. "You were gonna have us kill EACH OTHER?!"
With the two men utterly distracted, Shepard quietly stepped up beside Kim, and gave the man his own back, allowing him to ever so deftly, and delicately, slip his one of his restrained hands into the Officer's left pant pocket, like a pick-pocketing sneak thief. A split second later, Shepard's hand slipped out with something pinched between two fingers.
With the guards caught up in the distraction, Shepard's slight of hand feat had gone completely unnoticed by almost everyone - with the exception of Gordon who keenly observed with his own acute eyes.
"Uh… Gentlemen, please!" Tarrik begged,with his hands helplessly raised, as he backed away from the encroaching brutes. "Don't listen to him! Can't you see what he's trying to do! He's trying to create a schism between us! Don't let him impair your better judgement!"
Taking advantage of the fact that the officers formerly guarding him were now caught up in the altercation, like betting spectators at a boxing match, Gordon took a few low-profile steps over towards Shepard.
"What did you just do…?" He asked, in a low whisper.
"What? You mean about pitting them against each other?" John asked, as he fiddled with something in his hands, behind his back. "Or about picking one-eye's pocket?"
"You picked his pocket?!" Freeman exclaimed, in an over-excited whisper. "Did you get the key?!"
"No, I missed it. But I got his lighter…" He explained, as he revealed the small, silver-gleaming, rectangular object in his hands, to Gordon.
"His lighter…?" Gordon pondered aloud, as his eyes began flicker back and forth, like a processing computer. "That gives me an idea!"
"I've already got a better one in mind." John cheerfully informed, with a cocksure grin, snapping Gordon out of his contemplative trance, and back to reality.
Tarrik's cowardly back-pedal finally came to a stop, when he felt his spine suddenly press up against one of the large Casino pillars, effectively leaving him cornered like a frightened rabbit, preyed upon by two ravenous wolves.
"Gentlemen, please!" He begged in a shaky, wavering voice, with his hands up and outstretched in front of him. "If you only give me a moment, I assure you I can explain everything!"
Just then, Kim hooked his arm around one of Tarrik's shoulders, while Kargas hooked the other. In cooperative effort, the two men hoisted the manipulative volus up to eye-level, leaving him dangling, with his back up against the pillar.
"I've been meaning to kill you since the moment you set foot aboard my ship." Kim disclosed, in a hushed, angry voice, as he raised his weapon and aimed it at Tarrik's masked face - a face that was surely engraved with terror, beneath. "Now's as good a time as any." He said, with a shrug. "How should we do it, Karg?"
"I hear tell that normal oxygen is highly poisonous to volus." The krogan conjectured, as he reached for one of the hoses jutting out of Tarrik's suit. "They say their flesh will actually split open, when exposed. I've always wanted to see that for myself... What say we peel him out of his little shell?"
"No! No, please…!" He begged and beckoned for mercy - shaking with an uncontrollable fear. "Wait! Don't do this! You still need me!" He implored, as he felt the krogan start pulling at the sturdy, albeit far from invulnerable, seals on his suit. Just then, as he fearfully awaited the scorching burn of oxygen soon to wash over his skin, he looked up, between the human and the krogan, and watched Shepard slyly fiddling with something behind his back. "Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Look, you fools!" He directed, pointing out in a panicked fervor. "Over there! Look!"
Keeping their grips firm on the wiley volus, both Kim and Kargas turned and looked in the direction Tarrik indicated. Sure enough, they could see Shepard clicking a small, silvery object in his hands, behind him. Tiny sparks flickered, as he was apparently trying to set fire to a set of pearly silk curtains behind him.
"Shit!" Kim exclaimed, as he released his hold on the volus, primed his weapon, and sprinted over towards Shepard. As Tarrik dropped back down to the ground, he quickly spun about, and attempted to scurry away in the opposite direction, like a wounded animal, only to be grabbed by the back of his neck, at a mighty krogan's hands, and held in place.
"Come on, come on!" Shepard whispered to himself, feigning angst, as he continued to click the lighter behind him.
"HEY!" Kim shouted out, charging in with his weapon raised and aimed at Shepard's head. John immediately froze in place, like a deer caught in the high beams.
"What're you doing?!" He demanded, as he shoved Shepard around, with the barrel of his gun. "Gimme that!" He snarled, as he reached out and confiscated the object.
"Wh…" Kim stuttered, as he examined the object - rotating it around between his fingers. "Where'd you get this?!" He demanded, as he stuffed his free hand into his left pocket, finding it devoid of his lighter. "This is my lighter!" He affirmed, as he stuffed it back into the pocket, and re-aimed his weapon at Shepard's head. "So was that it?! Huh?! Was that your last little 'ace in the hole'."
"Actually…" John said, as his semblance of worry and hopelessness, suddenly began to fade, turning into a brash, brazen-faced grin. "This was just the distraction."
Shepard turned his head to look back and to his left, where Gordon had managed to creep a few feet away. He stood near one of the Casino's many tribal carved pillars, upon a small decorative elevation. The platform was outlined with large stones, and was home to an exotic bed of soil, flora, and vegetation. And at the center of the miniature oasis, was a bronze brazier, with a brightly burning flame dancing in the center, like a ritualistic pyre. Kim looked up at Gordon, and his mouth cracked open, as he watched the physicist's eyebrows bounce up twice, with the guise of a naughty child who knew he was about to do something bad. Suddenly, PANG! Gordon thrusted his foot backwards, kicking the brazier as hard as he could. The large, propane fueled bowl was launched off of the small terrace, becoming a rolling fireball, as it made contact with the carpeted floor below - which immediately ignited with its touch. A streak of flames began to grow across the floor, radiating like ripples in a pond, as the onlooking crowd of blackguards and hostages exhaled a collective gasp, accompanied by shrieks of fright.
"Son of a bitch!" Kim exclaimed, as he aimed his shotgun at Gordon, who became a dark silhouette, with a wall of smoke and flames quickly rising behind him.
As his finger tightened around the trigger, he was suddenly suddenly knocked off his feet by a mighty, powerful blow. Like a bulldozer through a concrete barricade, Shepard charged with a vehement shoulder tackle, slamming Kim to the ground.
As the flames continued to grow around and consume the overturned brazier, the fuel tank hidden underneath it became superheated, until finally POW! It erupted with a small explosion, bringing with it more flame and fury, to the smoking conflagration.
The loud percussion drew the shocked, onlooking eye of every guard in the vicinity, as thick clouds of smoke began to waft up towards the ceiling. Just then, as expected, the ship's state-of-the-art fire suppression system kicked in with numerous, thick jets of fire extinguishing vapor, quickly starting to smother the flames, and shroud the entire deck with a thick, hazy smoke screen.
"That's our cue, fellas!" Garrus shouted, as he began to rise. With a flurry of nearly perfect synchronicity, he, Jacob, Mordin, Legion, and Grunt shot to their feet, and charged the barricade of distracted, disarrayed officers in front of them.
"Bastard!" Kim snarled in a rage, on his back, as he looked up at Shepard, and took aim. John shot forward, kicking away the barrel and sending the entire firearm flying out of Kim's hands. Without a single loss of motion, John immediately recovered after the first kick, and swung another, straight across the one-eyed Commander's skull, leaving him sprawled out, motionless and unconscious, across the floor.
Upon seeing this, Kargas released Tarrik, with a dismissive shove to the floor, as if he were discarding a piece trash. His predatory eyes narrowed on Shepard, as he released a guttural growl, and charged him.
Tarrik looked around. Amidst a thunderous cacophony of panicked screams, shrieks, and gasps, he could see uniformed men being trampled and stomped into submission under the heels of Shepard's crew, as the dismal blanket of grey continued to thicken and set in. Being smart enough to know when to cut and run, he turned and began to crawl away, on his hands and knees, in a vagrant display of cowardice.
"GET BACK!" Shepard's commanding voice resonated throughout the entirety of the deck, overpowering the frightened chorus of voices, as he addressed the massive sea of innocents. "ALL OF YOU, KEEP BACK AND STAY DOWN!"
"Shepard!" He suddenly heard an angered, guttural voice call his name. As he spun around, he was met immediately with a powerful charge. John was swept off his feet, and he suddenly felt the very air being squeezed out of his lungs, as he found himself constricted within the krogan's massive arms, in a devastating bear hug.
"I will crush the very life out of you!" Kargas snarled in a hate fueled blood rage - his arms, like jaws of death, trembling as they tightened around the puny human.
"NGGH! URGH!" Shepard grunted, in agony, as the pressure began to mount. He couldn't take a single breath, and the force made him feel as if his own head was going to pop off his shoulders, like a bottlecap flying off a shaken-up soda bottle.
John looked down into the ireful eyes of his krogan enemy. WIth his hands firmly locked behind his back, both by the handcuffs, and the krogan's own titan-like grip, his options were limited. The fading Commander reeled his head back, as far as he could, and with one blistering, forceful thrust forward, CRACK! Utilizing his own forehead as a battering ram, Shepard smashed in Kargas' nose and jaw. It was perhaps reflex alone that caused Kargas to drop his human captive, and clench his face with his hands, in disarray.
"Ack! Gordon!" Shepard coughed, and called out, as he struggled to steady himself. Gordon's eyes perked up, as he quickly spotted Shepard's silhouette out, in the fog.
"The krogan!" John directed, upon noticing he had Freeman's attention.
"Right!" Gordon reciprocated, as both he and the Commander darted forward.
Kargas pried his hands off of his face. His gloves were stained with a layer of yellowish-green blood, which trickled out of his nose. Suddenly, he looked up to see two figures burst forth, from the cloudy haze - charging him with their heads lowered, like a pair of wild, dominant rams.
"RAARGH!" He and Gordon grunted in unison, as they careened hard, shoulder first, into the krogan's abdomen. Despite his armored solar plexus, the overwhelming force of the blow knocked the air out of him, as he was actually taken off his feet, and driven back. Freeman and Shepard plowed through the krogan like a freight-train through a parked car, before finally slamming him hard, back first, against one of the nearby pillars, with bone crushing force.
"UAGH!" Kargas groaned as he slid down, to the ground, in a seated position. Still dazed and reeling from the initial blow, he looked up and tried to scurry back to his feet, when a flash of red heralded the unforgiving blast of Shepard's kneed slamming straight into his face - crunching it, with a crushing blow, against the pillar. Kargas rattled like a dying beast, with his eyes rolling back into his head, as he slipped into a profound state of unconsciousness.
"That's not gonna keep him down long!" John anxiously admitted, as he futilely tried to pry his restrained arms apart behind him. "We gotta get outta these cuffs!"