Collier and his biotic Monkey Wrench team hadn't been travelling for twenty minutes before it happened. Suddenly, without any kind of warning, Reapers started to fall out of the sky. Harvesters swooping about like malevolent carrion-eaters suddenly stopped beating their wings and plunged to earth. The big Reapers walking around on their weird finger-like appendages suddenly flicked with light, then toppled over as if in slow motion. The hail of cannon fire from orbit stopped in one single moment.

The sudden cessation of Reaper activity was so abrupt and so sudden that no one really knew what to make of it. The only thing they could do was cautiously climb up one of the few multi-story buildings left standing and look towards the beam.

The beam still shone with its eye-searing light…but all the Reapers around it had fallen to the ground. They lay there, some of them twitching, like so much freshly-mown grass. But like the grass, they seemed to have no will, no directive, nothing. They were puppets with no guidance and while some of the big ones seemed to be picking themselves up, the husks slowly stopped moving. Even the ones that did get up didn't seem to know what to do with themselves, but began to wander aimlessly.

"What the hell?" CZ demanded, scowling at the suddenly silent city.

It hit Collier like a sucker punch just how quiet it really was. He could actually hear the rain falling, pat-a-patter on the concrete. "I dunno…was it…did the Crucible work?" There didn't seem any other logical explanation, and yet it seemed too easy…too…well…he'd expected to see some evidence of the Crucible working. Some weird spectacular lightshow or pops of color, or maybe a sound. But there had been nothing to herald the abrupt fainting fit of the Reapers. Even the one by the beam had toppled over—thankfully not into the beam, that would have been awful for the assets up there.

"Come on…let's see if anyone from Hammer is still alive. If we're not dodging Reapers, we can make a more direct cut. Herrera! Get us there!"

-J-

Sweat stood out on Jack's skin as she continued holding the strongest barrier she could generate, wishing she could drop it and lash out at the steady stream of Reaper ground troops beginning to spill into the Underground rather than just trickle. But she didn't dare, because every few seconds a Reaper took a potshot at the underground platform. Already there were holes in the ceiling, and only the biotic fields kept the falling debris out. All she could think was how much worse it would be if the barriers weren't in place…and if the Reapers weren't having to cut through the streets and everything else first. She did not want to pit herself against—

She flinched at the next impact, a slow warmth oozing down her upper lip from her nose. Shit. She hadn't had biotic overdraw nosebleeds in years. It wasn't a problem she usually had. She wasn't the only one; several of the kids looked ready to collapse.

Suddenly, and without explanation, the Reapers pressing in while the Resistance tried desperately to push them back dropped to the ground. Jack almost dropped her barrier, she was so shocked by this unexpected circumstance.

But it was true: the Reaper ground troops had simply dropped to the floor. The husks were twitching feebly, the one or two Cannibals were picking themselves back up…but there was a difference in the way they moved. They no longer had resolution and when the Cannibals threw themselves at the stunned Resistance, it lacked the driving savagery everyone had come to associate with a Reaper charge. It was like they were charging because they thought it was what they were supposed to do…but without knowing why it was important. After a few minutes, Jack realized the staccato impacts of Reaper cannons had also stopped. She didn't want to trust that just yet, but it looked to her as if maybe the Crucible had worked.

-J-

Steve Cortez and Hornet had finally had to take shelter once the Harvesters got to be too many for a pair of pilots. It was nerve wracking to just wait under cover—Hornet was remarkably agile—but they hadn't had any choice.

When Hornet had shaken and shivered, giving every indication of having a first class seizure, Steve hadn't known what to do. He still didn't, but remained in the pilot's seat, hesitant to touch anything and calling Hornet from time to time.

Finally, Hornet responded, "…I am functional…I am also recording a drop in enemy air traffic."

"A drop?" Steve asked nervously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I believe the Crucible fired correctly. I was temporarily incapacitated by…something…but I am better now. A second scan reveals a decreased presence of air traffic. Shall we investigate?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Steve asked uneasily.

Hornet considered, then the face it used in the haptic display nodded. "Yes. I would like to investigate."

"Alright, let's head up," Steve responded. It was interesting, piloting in tandem with Hornet, something Steve wouldn't have minded doing more. It was the sort of partnership that would allow someone who wasn't really a pilot to be a pilot. He didn't know how he felt about that.

Hornet was partly right: by the time they got back into the sky, the Harvesters too had returned to the air…but they no longer swooped about, strafing the ground or attacking ground targets. Rather, the flapped idly around as if suddenly placed on autopilot.

"Let's take a couple potshots at one, see what happens," Steve suggested.

"Agreed." Hornet swept in like its namesake, and while the Harvester could clearly respond to an attack…it didn't do it like something fighting for its life, or something that knew it could kill anything that assailed it. It went down with absurd ease compared to what Cortez had become accustomed to.

Apparently the Crucible had worked.

"Well, let's start running cleanup."