And we're steam-rollin' this thing once more!

The Tau Volantis Arch is hereby officially commenced, and we're sending our friends into a very different Hell than the one they just left.

Also it should be said that I am a huge fan of a certain military-genre anime. Too bad it only had 24 episodes...

Oh well, let's get freeing!

August 6th

Coral system, Horsehead Nebula

Tau Volantis high-orbit, SPV Concord.

19:22

"Okay, we're tapped into the comms. We should be able to hear what they're saying to each other, right about-"

"Tau Volantis Control, this is the SPV Concord, how copy?"

"…now." Hillary finished, turning her attention from the program to Thomas and Boss, the latter giving her an approving nod. Thomas did as well, though he was just a little surprised. Hillary didn't usually come across as the most proficient hacker, even if there hadn't technically been anyone preventing them from cracking open the comms-channel.

Still, it was impressive.

"…Concord, this is TV Control. We're not scheduled for security-checkups until next month. Change of plans?"

"Aye, we're doubling patrols after the latest raid on Feros. As such, we'll remain in system for the next two hours, carrying out scans and ensuring safety-regulations are being followed, as well as discharging our drive-core on Big Demon."

"Copy that, Concord… Do you require assistance or repairs while in orbit?"

"Negative, we're running optimal. Thanks for the offer though."

"…Of course. Tau Volantis Control out."

Gone with the Blizzard

"Okay, so they sounded friendly enough, huh?" she said, her voice eerily chipper. Thomas blinked, glad that his expression was hidden underneath the helmet's visor. He and Hillary looked almost completely alike, different only in their gear, and the two bulges on Hillary's chestplate.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to run a front-company if you couldn't pretend to be a civilian." Boss agreed, sliding his own helmet on. It took just a second for the dulled visor to activate, and faint blue lights glowed in the corners. The shuttle was dimmed, making them stand out more than usual; "Then again, that's how the Banking Clans played it too…Eve, I've got something for you."

"For me? Oh Boss- Delta, you shouldn't have!" even through the helmet's filters, Hillary sounded just as much the immature girl as she always did, though she did seem to correct her slip in call signs. Good, because Thomas didn't want his name accidentally slipped to someone while on the job.

He didn't enjoy the contingency-plans for that kind of stuff.

Boss opened a compartment in his belt, retrieving two small modules. To Thomas, they looked a lot like shield-modules, even with the curiously double-lined edges and the soft, green glow. One, he handed to Hillary, before holding the other forward at Thomas.

"You too, Demon." The clone added, remaining silent after that as they both examined the modules. Then, reaching behind his own back, he unclasped something that sounded like it came from inside the armor, and retrieved his hand, showing a similar module; "As you might realize, Ghost field-tested this thing on Alchera. It's-"

"A freaking cloaking-field!" Hillary exclaimed. When Thomas looked to bump her over the head for interrupting, she had vanished from sight. Only a faintly shimmering distortion of the air next to him, as well as her voice coming from there, betrayed her location; "Oh this is sooo fucking awesome! I could screw you right here and now, Delta-man!"

Thomas pointedly did not comment on that. He hadn't noticed if Hillary and Boss had started something – then again it seemed everyone bar Jane and Adrian had started something on this team – and so he decided to let Boss handle how to react to Hillary's exclamation-slash-offer.

And for once, the Lieutenant seemed just as baffled as him. Weak, stuttering noises came from Boss' helmet, betraying the usually so stoic soldier's shock. And when Hillary came back into view with a snap, the clone nearly fell on his ass.

It was actually quite funny.

"R-right, I don't suppose you could just focus on the mission instead. For now, I mean." Boss groaned, his voice suddenly coming out thick as if the man was choking on something. Thomas, realizing that Hillary was just taking a piss on the poor man – at this point the clone should really have come to expect this kind of thing – turned off his voice-emitter so he could choke on his own laugher and not let Boss hear it.

Yet somehow, the man seemed to do just that.

"Never mind that, let's focus on the mission now, Squad."

"…we're only three." Hillary pointed out, to which Thomas just flickered her helmet's forehead. At this point, it was more tradition than berating; "Right, right…"

"We're deploying six miles from the nearest site of suspicion, whereafter we take it on foot. The ghost-modules will allow us deeper infiltration-capabilities, and we can move with them active now. However, it does drain a significant portion of your armor's power, so use it wisely. The field will break upon activation of your kinetic barriers, so don't get shot."

"As if that's a new rule."

"Eve, you're the team's eyes. I want you on constant alert, covering our sectors. Your rifle should be equipped with suppressing modifications, so use that to stay undetected."

"Sweet, just like Cambodia."

"Demon, you'll be on point for most of the mission. Your barriers are strong enough to handle most incoming fire, and you stand a better chance at recognizing anything Reaper-related we might meet."

"Aye." Thomas nodded, giving his rifle a last-minute check as the shuttle took off. When all was deemed sufficient of readiness, he looked to Boss; "What's your role then, Sir?"

"Aside from keeping the two of you from shooting up the locals?" the man's tone implied he was only half serious; "I'll be between the two of you, making sure you don't fek something up."

"…Yay, the lieutenant's babysitting us, Demon."

"…Really?" the Dane looked from Hillary to Boss, unsure of what to think; "So you'll be leaving the work to us?"

"I'll be leading, don't you worry." The commando replied, checking the status of his sidearms. Carrying two just seemed so…excessive, but if the bred-to-fight commando believed it was necessary, who was Thomas to argue that? "What, did you think I'd be staying in the shuttle?"

"More like a hundred yard behind us or something…" Hillary grumbled, then shook her head; "Ah screw it. I know what you mean. Standard Tri-gun infiltration, right?"

"Correct. Now, get ready, the shuttle's invisible to most radars, but if these people really work with the Reapers, we'll probably encounter something a lot more nasty than whatever humans can think up."

"Oh, and here I was, only five days from retirement." Hillary chuckled. Her voice became the dominating sound as the men with her remained silent, instead watching through exterior cameras as the surface came closer and closer.

"Alright ladies, let's cut the chatter." Boss said, tapping into a program on his tool. Compared to Thomas, the clone had gotten used to Omnitools remarkably fast. It was almost as if the GAR had had something similar, but as far as the Service Chief knew, there were no Omnitools or anything like them in the Andromeda galaxy.

So, maybe he knew less than he'd thought? Because that was a comforting thought.

"We'll hit the surface in t-minus twenty seconds, so make sure your thermal regulators are set to maintain a steady twenty-seven degrees, make sure your weapons are loaded, and your sights set to thermal. We'll be unable to maintain visual contact otherwise, as a blizzard seems to be picking up on the surface."

"Regulators, guns and sights." Thomas counted off, checking his suit's programs one by one. The HUD reported his armor to be holding at a solid twenty-six, a margin he could live with. His M37-CAR rested in his hands while he checked its ammunition-block, a type of metal that felt somewhat different from the regular tungsten-blocks. It tingled his skin when he slid it back in, causing the letters 'EPPR' to appear briefly in his HUD. Odd. Still, he would ask what exactly he was firing when he was done checking. Finally, he scrolled through the options for his vision, setting it on a temporarily low-frequency thermal. Enough that he could still see his compatriots in the normal spectrum as well.

Satisfied, he looked up at Boss, but the commando seemed to beat him to it.

"As you may have noticed, the ammunition-blocks in your rifles are not your typical tungsten-rounds." He said, allowing Hillary to examine her own before continuing with his "explanation", or whatever it was. To Thomas, it sounded more like he was giving a lecture. Which was unusual, actually; "They are considerably lighter, which is because the block is not actually a block as such, but rather a container."

"Wait…we're shooting bullets?" Hillary deadpanned, tilting her head as if to imply disbelief; "I thought we left that behind like, a century ago?"

"Correction, Corporal. You're not shooting bullets, but rather an experimental type of ammunition developed by the Alliance Arms Labs." Boss hoisted up his own gun as if to show it off; "As you may remember, the Admiral showcased the DC-81 Prototype back in March. This is what we're being issued now, only in a compact model. We're the first field-testers of the EPPR."

"Njord's ballsack…"

"We're finally getting laser guns?" Hillary whooped, pulling out her ammunition; "Dang it, Bossy, why didn't you just say so when we started this shit?"

"Because A) It's extremely classified, which means no one even knows the Alliance's got it yet, and B) because I knew you'd react like this and reveal it to everyone." Thomas had to agree with that one, much as he would have loved to know on forehand as well. Boss stood, slapping his gun back in place; "We're nearly at the surface. Fire only when needed, avoid drawing attention, and if we do get attention, avoid leaving witnesses."

"Gee, why don't you just make us sound like Jormungand while you're at it?" the corporal drawled, slapping the Dragunov back into place as well; "I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate leaving witnesses as much as the next guy, but we're doing an awful lot of that these days. Though that's more because we go in and kill everyone on purpose, but still."

"Attention passengers, uh, we're detecting some sort of sensor-grid near the surface. We'll be maintaining air-lift, so you'll have to jump instead. Shuttle will set'em off if we get too close, but human-sized shouldn't trigger anything. How copy?"

"Damn…Solid Copy, Shuttle. How close can you get us?"

"Closest we dare's fifteen feet. Jump here or find a new LZ?"

"No, we're going down here. Thanks for the lift Shuttle." Boss replied, sending the pilots a hand-signal – Thomas wasn't quite sure what it meant – through the fiber wall. It was doubtful the men even saw it too; "Try not to get blown out of the skies, okay?"

"Roger that, Sir. Have fun down there." The pilot replied, sounding slightly more optimistic than Thomas felt. Then again, the pilot was in a stealth shuttle while they were going down on a cold, hostile planet.

"Man, this is gonna blow."

"The High Road is hard to find, Corporal." Boss sighed through his speakers. Then, with a slight tremble, the shuttle stopped in the air, and the door slid open, revealing a harsh, unforgiving wasteland of ice, rock and snow. Boss paused at the door, looking like he was considering whether or not his armor could take the jump. It was only fifteen feet, or however much that was in meters.

Then he jumped, landing with a crunch of ice only a second later;

"Surface's good. Come on."

Thomas offered Hillary the barest of nods, then leapt from the shuttle as well. The air whipped about him as he fell, and panic flooded his veins for the briefest of moments before he kicked his feet together, causing jets of flame to sprout like stalagmites from his soles and slow down his decent. Gods, do I love this thing.

He still landed on his ass, though, since he hadn't tried jumping like this before.

Hillary followed moments later, mirroring his way of descending. She did so with a lot less clumsiness, however, and landed in a perfect kneel, whereafter she simply stood, wiped her hands as if to remove dirt, an chuckled through the comms.

"You really are still the dumbass we scooped up a year ago, aren't you?"

"Careful, you're insulting your Chief's taste in men, Corporal." Thomas shot back, grinning as he got to a stand.

"Alright squad, sync up and make sure to maintain contact. No radios, so we're using helmet-comms in my personal synchronization. Unless they know Mando, no one'll crack that one."

"So why no radios then?" Thomas asked as they started trudging through the foot-deep carpet of snow. The winds whipped about them, deafening all else. Honestly, this was one of those times he appreciated being isolated from the world around him. Some people said helmets were a nuisance because they hindered your vision and limited your hearing, but for Thomas his helmet just helped him not freeze his ears off. And it enabled close-range comms; "I mean, if they can't understand us anyway."

"Because, dumbass, even if they can't understand us, we don't want someone picking up on our signal out here." Hillary scoffed; "Honestly, it's been a year, you should know this kind of crap already."

"At least my brother didn't run out on me." Thomas snarked.

"…that was low." Hillary muttered, her voice reluctant enough that Thomas understood he'd crossed a line. Shit.

"Sorry…Didn't mean it like that."

"I know. You don't have the potential for being a bastard." The woman grumbled, sounding almost as if that irritated her more than his retort; "And he's only my half-brother. Bastard ran from his guilt, brittle-bones be damned."

"Keep that kind of chatter to the private comms." Boss cut their conversation short with a gruff reprimand; "We've got a lot of ground to cover"

"Roger that." It was funny, despite the mood, how they replied to his command in unison. It wasn't something Thomas had ever expected to do, but now that it was almost second-nature…It seemed right. Hillary might be an immature ass sometimes, but even she could be professional when it counted.

Also she hadn't deserved that one about Jeff.

Trudging through the snow was cumbersome, but at least not as bad as he'd feared. Being only light snow, it didn't really halt his advance, but it also meant he had no way of knowing what lay underneath, and considering the planet was covered with ice, there could be gaps and fissures deep down, ready to swallow the unwary.

Hours went by, and he started losing his sense of time, though the scenery wasn't all that bad, really. True, the skies were blanketed with thick, menacing clouds, and the winds would have torn his face to shreds if not for the helmet, but the endless fields of snow, broken only in the distance by looming, awesome mountains and cliffs, made it feel like he was back home, skiing in Norway or the Alps.

Maybe, after everything was done with, he could take Ashley skiing. She'd survived zero-gravity training, so skiing shouldn't be that much trouble. Ah, but there's no way we could take a baby there, and we can't do it before she's -

"…Fek." Boss hissed, breaking off the stream of thoughts Thomas was currently entertaining. The lieutenant had stopped a few meters ahead, binoculars slipped over his visor, and pointed at the horizon; "There's a serious blizzard heading our way. Our objective, as well as any available cover, is about five miles to the east, so we'd better get moving before the weather picks up." We've only walked one fucking mile? But we've been walking for hours!

"How far away's the storm?" Hillary asked, taking up her own pace some ten meters to their right. She seemed to have found a raise in the terrain, and was roughly four or five meters higher up than them.

"Scans say it's ten clicks out, but with the way the wind's going we could be seeing it up close sooner than I'd like."

"Is it gonna mess with our systems?"

"Unknown… Refrain from cloaking in the blizzard, just to be sure."

"Aye to that." Hillary muttered, flicking her comms off. Thomas nodded his consent, though he was more concerned with keeping his feet from piling up snow before him. It was cold enough to only be powdery snow, but it still made things irritating when he couldn't trudge through it, or when it started getting in between his plates. Packed snow could force the servos to in his armor to work harder, draining more power than normally.

Still, it ensured the Velcro on his legs already looked indistinguishable from the terrain, meaning when the blizzard hit, they'd all become more or less invisible, and the snow would hide their heat-signatures from eventual sensors. Then, they'd be relying on infrared tagging to keep track of each other's positions.

And that was always fun.

Arcturus station, Arcturus Stream

Officer's lounge, Military Headquarters.

14:22

Sometimes, it was hard for Jane to remember that the man in front of her, a man she would have followed into the depths of Hell itself, wasn't the same man she had known in her previous life. He was, only he wasn't, and the distinctions were so slim that they made no rational difference.

"Captain Anderson. It's good to see you again, Sir." She greeted him with that familiar, well-drilled salute she always had when she had been just a normal, respected military commander on the first Normandy. Back when Anderson had handpicked her for the ship.

Back when everything had made sense.

Anderson was Anderson. The Captain was the same ruffled veteran he'd always been, with scars from campaigns she'd never even heard of. The same campaigns, fighting the same slavers, in the same systems. Only the Skyllian Blitz had never happened, and Torfan remained a simple, prosperous colony under the Hegemony to this day.

A colony she hadn't massacred. Not this time. Never.

"Likewise, Captain Shepard." He mirrored her salute, reminding her that it wasn't strictly necessary with them both holding the same rank. God, that was weird to realize. Anderson was a legend, for Christ's sake. He was supposed to have been Humanity's first Spectre, until Saren fucked it all up. Her? She was a no-body here, an unknown intruder from another dimension.

If it hadn't been laid out flat to her by Fisher, she'd have thought she was going mad back then. Maybe she had, and she was currently twitching in a strap-jacket somewhere.

"How's leading a Taskforce been treating you?" she asked, taking a seat across from him in the lavish chair. One could say a lot about the Alliance Military, but they treated their proven officers well. Anderson, in front of her, leaned back, resting his arms on the chair's supports. Red velvet, in the colors of the Arcturus fleet.

"Been just about the weirdest assignment since I hunted slavers in the Terminus with the STG." He replied with a small, weary shake of his head; "But what's really getting on my plate is that I'm finding myself filling out more and more of Admiral Hackett's duties. These days the only thing I'm not doing is commanding fleets. Hopefully, I won't ever have to."

"Don't like the chaos?" Shepard mused, waving off a waiter wanting to know her order. She felt more like a guest here than a member, really. It was all in her mind, she knew that, but still the feeling wouldn't go away. Anderson did likewise, but more because he looked ready to drop dead if he got even a drop of liquor.

"Oh, I don't mind chaos, that's not it." he huffed, a small grin spreading on his features. David had always been a good-looking guy, which made it all the more weird that the guy was still single. At least as far as she knew; "Remember, I was one of the first to oversee the Chi-program, once it became official. Aside from a full-blown invasion, it doesn't get much more chaotic than that."

"What then?"

"When you lost Alenko on the Ishimura, how did you feel?" Anderson's words made her wince. They felt like taking a punch to the stomach, knocking all the air from her lungs. Kaidan's death had destroyed her, robbing her of one of the few friends she really felt comfortable around. Magnus, Garrus, Jon, Kaidan, everyone she got close to suffered for it; "I'm sorry, that wasn't my question to ask."

"Please, it's…I'm fine." She dragged in a heave of air; "Lieutenant Alenko's death was a blow to the entire crew. He was well-liked and respected, and most had served with him since we started the hunt for Saren."

"My point is, much as it hurts to lose a man under your command, it becomes something entirely different when you lose a thousand at once." Anderson sighed wearily, rubbing his closed eyes; "When you get to that stage, either you start viewing the death-toll as statistics, or it'll break you. I don't want anything to do with that kind of shit."

"David, there's an update for you from the armory." A young man, possibly just around the twenties, suddenly appeared next to them, handing Anderson a datapad. Jane suppressed the urge to jump in her seat, having not even seen nor heard the man approach.

And she beat herself up for that one, because he really had an unusual appearance.

Silvery hair, cut short enough to just about meet regulations formed something of a prickly bush over a pair of eerily red eyes. His face spoke of Arabian origins, but his sounded more like Japanese or Korean. His entire person, even dressed up in Alliance casuals, gave off an air of constant alert, but it was when the young man looked at her, that Jane found herself unnerved.

The kid couldn't be more than nineteen at most, yet his eyes seemed older than Anderson's. it was disturbing, no matter how many times Jane saw the eyes of someone who's lives had been filled with more hardship and cruelty than was humanly probable to survive with your mentality and morals intact.

There was something wrong with those eyes. And with their bearer.

Anderson – had the kid just called him by his first name? – took the datapad without a word, eyes not even glancing at its carrier. Seconds went by in silence, interrupted only when Anderson sighed, huffed and handed the pad back to the kid.

"Damn bureaucrats…" he scoffed, shaking his head; "Thank you, Mar. Inform the others that we've been delayed."

Instead of saying something, even saluting the Captain, "Mar" simply nodded and left, dragging an air of uncomfortableness in his wake. Or maybe that was just her being paranoid.

"So…" she started once she was certain the disturbing kid had left. Anderson waved over a waiter and ordered something strong. Neither spoke until the drink arrived, Jane simply because she assumed the man needed something after whatever he'd been reading, and thus held a respectful silence.

Once the drink was in his hand, half of its contents already down his throat, Anderson sighed and put the glass on the low table between them.

"I'm assuming you sensed something different about our visitor?" he started, looking at her over folded hands.

"That's…one way to put it. I've never seen eyes so…" she paused, looking for a diplomatic term; "…red?"

"Genetic anomaly. Mar's from Iraq, used to run with a weapons dealer until something bad happened, and I found the kid in a brig, lying about his age to join the military. That was…what, three years ago now?" Anderson didn't let his expression betray anything behind those eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, but old enough to fit their face.

"He didn't seem to be more than…nineteen?"

"…eighteen, actually." Jane didn't even have to do the math to know that was way too early to enter the military. And if Mar had been running with weapons dealers before that…

"…A child soldier?" she asked in a lowered voice, almost afraid someone would think she was contemplating such a concept as normal. Maybe they thought she'd finally become some sort of clone of Admiral Fisher – from the early pictures she'd seen, the old lady actually looked a lot like her when she was in her thirties – with every ounce of rumored insanity to boot; "God, Anderson, you hired…Don't tell me you're planning on using child soldiers?"

"Never." He replied, eyes narrowing into hard lines, which almost immediately returned to normal upon speaking the word; "Mar's case is a…special one. The weapons dealer he used to run with belonged to an Earthbound organization the Alliance hasn't yet been able to track down, and as such I was given authority over the kid, most likely because Intelligence wanted to see if he knew more about the organization. When it turned out that he didn't, but instead had very extensive field-experience, Command pointed Fisher at him, and you know how she does things."

"…Yeah." She knew perfectly well how the Admiral did things. Still, seeing as she was also the only one who seemed to be successful at kicking humanity in the right direction, Jane knew the woman had the right of way on her side; "But why was he reporting to you then, and on a first name basis?"

Anderson glanced around, as if to ensure no one was listening in. in reality though, if someone really wanted to listen in, nothing he now she could do would prevent that.

"Mar's one of the members of Borealis." He finally said, sounding as if he wasn't sure whether to be proud or ashamed of it; "He's one of my best soldiers, but never figured out how to approach authority. I think it comes from the informality in his…previous occupation."

'Borealis', Anderson's Taskforce. Similar to Jane's, it was split into fire teams, but she had no idea how many, or what their call-signs were, far less their real names. Anderson only knew the majority of her soldiers because he'd been the Captain of half of them, if only briefly, and then enjoyed some amount of casualness when the Taskforces were still being worked out.

"I see."

"Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to have given him a normal childhood, but fact of the matter is that his shitty life gave me one of the best soldiers I've ever commanded." Anderson sighed, then drained the rest of his drink – the smell gave it away as being rum – before standing, mirrored almost instantly by Jane; "No need to get up for me, Captain. I'm just going to have a talk with Alliance Administration. You're an officer, for God's sake, enjoy the few benefits that come with the rank."

"…That an order, Sir?" she longed for the days when he could order her around, back when she was just Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, serving under Captain David Anderson on the proud ship 'SSV Normandy'.

So much of that was gone, now.

Anderson managed a surprising chuckle at her question, looking at her with a raised brow.

"You know I can't give your orders, Shepard." He did give her a smile, though; "Consider it a strong recommendation from a friend, if that makes it better."

When Anderson left, Jane remained where she had stood for several seconds before finally dumping herself back into the armchair – God it was comfy! – and waved over one of the waiters.

"Hn…I suppose it does." She mused to herself, watching the man scurry - If in a dignified manner – for her order; "At least it's free."

August 5th

Tau Volantis, Coral System

Somewhere in the Tundra.

01:42

"How f-n long's t- -orm gonna keep - -?"

"Stay in range, Eve, you're getting static." Boss ordered, his voice the only thing Thomas could hear aside from his own ragged breath.

The blizzard had hit them faster than even Boss had been paranoid enough to suspect, and the winds were pounding them with howling gales, echoing through the dampeners of his helmet like the winds outside a thin wooden wall.

And every time it changed direction in just the slightest of degrees, it felt like a fresh kick in the ass. Boss, clad as he was in the heavier Katarn-model armor didn't have the same problems with the damn wind, but Thomas and Hillary – he assumed she was having trouble of her own – felt everything due to their armor being lighter and meant for movement and infiltration, not protection against sustained fire.

Boss had lucked out, that much was obvious.

"Aye Boss, I'm clo- your po -n. -t. My comms' getting all messed up."

"It's getting better, at least." Thomas grumbled, eternally grateful to whoever had designed and implemented the thermal regulators. According to his armor's computer, the temperature was just below -19 degrees, but with the winds that was a chill factor strong enough to freeze the balls of a polar bear; "How far away from the target?"

"Just two more miles." Boss replied, making it sound like it was nothing.

"Oh fuck -u!"

"Boss…you're bred for this kind of thing, and Eve's got Alliance gene-mods…Fuck, I don't." he panted, pumping his legs on despite the fires burning in them both. Just because one of them was a prosthesis meant to be superior to the original, it didn't make it magic. He could still feel the strain, even with the servos pitching in for all they were worth.

"We keep going, Demon." Boss replied mercilessly. Thor's ass, Thomas hated the lieutenant at that moment; "We need to reach the objective before the storm calms down. It's messing with our comms, so it'll do the same for the enemy."

"This is fucking insane…" Thomas grumbled, pushing on despite the pains. He hated Tau Volantis already, and they'd only been here for some six hours. And because they couldn't leave traces to the Alliance, they hadn't brought any snow-vehicles or anything they couldn't carry on their own backs; "I hate this planet."

"Get in –ine, dickhead." Hillary swore from her end. It was good they had comms still working and a ping of each other on the HUD, because Thomas couldn't even see Boss, whom he knew to be just six feet in front of him. The combination of a raging, howling blizzard and the absence of a moon all made for pitch-black darkness, where thermal visual didn't count for shit because the snow clung to their armor like passive camouflage; "-st Uni-ist I see gets a -t through the -t-sa—"

"You're breaking up, Eve."

"So-y, I'll -ve closer...How's -" the woman rasped through the comms, unnerving Thomas with the way she kept breaking into static. While it spared them some of the swears she would sling around, it also meant communication was a lot harder. I wish I was pregnant. Then I'd be sleeping in instead of wading through Antarctica on steroids.

The weather was really not improving his mood, especially with the way it was shitting on comms, and now even starting to make the radar go glitching all over the place. It reminded him a lot of how his HUD had bugged out when the Geth attacked Eden Prime.

"Boss, comms are really getting fucked."

"Tell me about it." the lieutenant replied. When a few seconds had passed, Thomas could hear the man mutter a string of curses in a language unknown to his translator; "…Eve, I'm losing your signature on the scan. Move towards my signature, we're grouping up."

Thomas realized that Boss was right. While he could still find the lieutenant on the scans, due to the proximity, Hillary's dot had moved to the far edge of the scans.

"Eve, come in." the clone repeated, now more demand than ever in his voice; "Eve, come in!"

"Hillary, come in!" Thomas barked at his comms, disregarding the use of call signs; "Corporal, report!"

"EVE! Do NOT move! We're coming towards you!" Boss now shouted at the comms, but to little effect.

Her blip was gone.

Codex entry: Phase-III Infiltration All-Purpose Stealth-Suit (IAPSS)

Developed by Alliance Arms R&D, the IAPSS is the next generation of the Phase-II armor, given to specialized combat-units for less-than official missions, often with the purpose of hitting targets in areas too fortified for regular troops to take out without sustaining too severe casualties.

The suit's composition is so far unavailable to the public, though its appearance has been noted to range from heavily altered to basically indistinguishable from its standardized predecessor. The armor sports no colors nor insignias of any kind, often giving off the image of the wearer as a faceless killer.

Though its capabilities remain pure speculation and rumor, it is believed that the armor features an integrated Arrest-system, hidden blades and a highly advanced capacitator, enabling its systems to operate for longer durations than the normal Phase-II's. As no Phase-III operators have ever been found dead, the myth has started to spread that the armor also contains acid-injectors meant to dissolve the armor as well as the body, so as to prevent potential hostiles from learning more about the armor than the fact that the wearer earned it.