Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to my Gears of War/Mass Effect crossover.

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback once again. I know I sound like a broken record when I say this, but I really appreciate the feedback you've provided.

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Gears of War or Mass Effect franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts, Microsoft Studios, The Coalition, Epic Games, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.

Citadel

Tayseri Ward

January 16th, 2183

While Anderson and Udina were busy getting together the things that Shepard would need to go after Saren, Shepard had decided that, since Marcus and his friends were, obviously, more than capable of defending themselves, that they could explore the Citadel. Marcus and the others had decided to go to areas that were either interesting, or could benefit them in some way. Plus, being at the hospital would take some time, so it was something to do while they waited.

It was also how Marcus had ended up on the streets of the Citadel. Here, he could see the bustling populace that served as the lifeblood of the entire Citadel, as well as the myriad number of species that inhabited the Citadel and called it home. Everywhere he looked, he could see Turians, Salarians, Asari, some Quarians, and a few Krogan here and there. Calling the Citadel 'cosmopolitan' is something of an understatement, he thought.

There were even a few Hanar, though that race boggled him the most, especially since they were from an ocean world. They also talk funny, he remarked, and are excessively polite. Still, he knew that talking in his 'posh' voice, while following the formal etiquette that his father had taught him would be sufficient to do dealings with them, if he needed to. It would be tiring, since he much appreciated his normally gruff voice, but he could tolerate it.

It wasn't just him that was doing the looking around. Many of the aliens that walked past him were also looking at him, with the Turians being the ones that looked the most at him. None of the aliens, though, decided that it would be wise to bother a human being that wore armor that seemed to have been salvaged from a tank, and a weapon that looked like it would make mincemeat out of a Krogan. That was fine by Marcus; he wasn't in a talkative or social mood right now.

In fact, the reason why he came down here wasn't for recreation or sightseeing, but purely for business. It was also the reason why Cole was accompanying him, with some of the weaponry that the team used contained inside of a bag that they had bought from a store in the upper levels of Tayseri Ward. This was due to the fact that their weaponry was getting old, and it was likely due for some serious upgrades. Marcus knew from personal experience that it was better to develop an advanced weapon system earlier rather than later. Nearly bit us in the ass with the Retro Lancer, he thought. Best to circumvent that now and prevent a similar situation from happening.

As they walked around, they were both scanning the area for any sign of a store that might be able to fill their needs. So far, they had seen a couple, but they were either too small, or didn't do trade-ins of older weaponry as payment. He was about to move to another area when Cole said, "Marcus, how about that shop?"

Looking where Cole was pointing his finger, Marcus could see the store in question. It was a moderately sized store, larger than the first one they had seen, with the store extending around fifty feet in height, giving it about four floors in total. The holographic signs on the store were in the shape of a trio of rifles, with each one being larger than the next, with the last having a stylized muzzle flash and a projectile coming out the muzzle. The sign also said, in the blocky stylized words that were in common use on the Citadel, Vorenus Gunworks: Old & New For The Modern Soldier.

Looking down towards the windows, he could see various advertisements for weapons that they were selling. Another sign indicated that they also did trade-ins, but the most important was that they could build custom firearms and mass accelerator weapons, and that trade-ins for such custom weapons were acceptable as well. "Hhmmm…. That might work out," he decided. "Let's go take a look." With that, the two proceeded towards the store.

Apparently, they had come during business hours, as the store was packed with customers that were looking around at the various weapons they had on offer. Most went towards the sections that held the latest mass accelerator weapons, but there were quite a few that were looking at older looking weapons. Seeing one he hadn't seen before, Marcus searched for it on the ExtraNet, and was surprised to learn that the rifle in question was known as the AK-47.

Curious, he walked over and lifted the rifle off of the shelf it was on. The rifle was secured to the shelf by a lanyard that extended a short distance, with a lock on the trigger, and an orange metal tab in the chamber. Moving the rifle around, Marcus found that it was quite light, though that was likely due to the fact that he had been using a very heavy rifle for quite some time. It was also smaller than the Lancer, but it was longer thanks to the wood stock that it had. He also took a look on the inside, noting the surprisingly simple internal mechanisms, as well as the utilitarian design of the gas piston.

Impressive, he noted, before putting the rifle back and taking a photograph, which was difficult since he was learning how to use the omni-tool still. Reading the article, he noted the rifle's designer, and felt some respect for the elderly man in the photograph. Well, if I had a hat, I'd tip it to you, Mr. Kalashnikov. You designed a good gun. If only you'd been able to meet my father. He and I designed the Lancer, though we could've learned a few things from you as well.

He was momentarily startled by a deep, flanging voice that said, "You like what you see?" Turning around, Marcus found himself looking at what he realized was a very old Turian. Said Turian towered over Marcus, reaching a height of seven feet and four inches in the air. He had a number of scars on his face, and from the way he had a slight limp as he walked past him and to the rifle before turning to face Marcus again, he had been through war. Topping it all off, though, was that his arms had been replaced with cybernetic equivalents. While they looked organic, the designers hadn't been able to get them to look completely organic, despite their best efforts.

"Yeah," Marcus nodded. "It's a good design. Cartridge is a little short, and the bullet's a little light, but it's a good gun. Certainly wouldn't have minded one of these back home."

"That they are," the Turian nodded, his mandibles parting in the Turian equivalent of a slight smile. "Many human weapons, especially those from the early 20th century to late 21st century are works of art. It's a shame most people go for what's modern instead of taking a look at the past. If they took a moment to look at the past, they'd find a lot of good lessons to be learned there."

"I agree." Looking at the Turian, Marcus said, "Looks like you've been through hell and back."

"I have," the Turian nodded. "I've been through many conflicts, including the First Contact War, though I can say I don't approve of that war. We were too hasty dealing with your kind; we should have extended the talon of peace, instead of the fist of war." Extending a talon, he said, "Vorenus Arbretus. I'm the owner of the store." As they shook hands, he asked, "Who are you, if I might ask?"

"Marcus Fenix."

"Fenix…" The older Turian said the word slowly, as though the word reminded him of something. "Reminds me of a legend that your species has. It was of a bird that would die by combusting into flames, but would be reborn from the ashes. The humans of that time called it a 'Phoenix.' Your surname reminds me of that legend."

"Interesting," Marcus noted. He found the legend of the bird quite fitting, since the COG, after being destroyed by the flames of war, had been reborn from the ashes of that war. On a personal level, he felt that it described how he'd lost everything, aside from Anya, but had been able to build a new life for himself. "I have to admit, it's quite fitting."

"That it is," Vorenus nodded. After a moment, he said, "But… I don't think you came in here to admire the goods I have in stock."

"You got that right," Marcus nodded. "I've got an idea for a custom order, but we're doing a trade-in since we don't have any money. That work for you?"

"Certainly. We do trade-ins all the time, including for custom pieces. Why?"

"Well, you're going to be seeing something unique." With that, Vorenus walked behind the counter, and waited for Marcus to produce the goods. "Cole?"

"I'm here," Cole replied. "I gotta admit. A lot of firepower on display here." Spotting Vorenus, he said, "Damn, you've been through the wringer. Looks like you've done quite nicely for yourself, though."

"That I have," Vorenus nodded, "Mr…?"

"Augustus Cole, but my friends call me the 'Cole Train.'"

"Cole's a former football star," Marcus explained. He knew that Cole was a Thrashball star, but the two sports were very alike with each other, enough that there was little difference between the two, save for the rules and the way the players played. It also helped that Marcus had looked at football as a sport before.

"Interesting," Vorenus remarked. "I heard that they're thinking of bringing football to the galactic stage. I'm not a fan of sports myself, but I can certainly see how others would find that appealing." A moment later, he watched as Cole put the bag onto the counter, with the elderly Turian opening them up.

He had to admit, Marcus wasn't lying when he mentioned that the weapons were 'unique.' Pulling out a Retro Lancer, he immediately noticed that the rifle was heavy. "Spirits, this is a heavy gun," he noted. "Bayonet at the end, short barrel, large caliber projectile, and an ejection port located above the grip, instead of above the magazine, and a but-plate instead of a stock." Looking at Marcus, he asked, "What's this weapon called?"

"Mark 1 Lancer," Marcus replied, the rifle's name automatically popping up in his memory. "We call it the 'Retro Lancer.' It's an old gun, but it works; you could dump that thing into mud, and it would still work properly."

"Kind of like that rifle you were checking out earlier," Vorenus nodded. Pulling out the next weapon, he immediately noted the longer barrel, but most importantly, the chainsaw bayonet. "Who designed this weapon?"

"My father and I did," Marcus replied. "Mark 2 Lancer. Had some nasty critters at our colony that wouldn't go down with mass accelerator weapons. We had to switch to the older ways to survive."

"No kidding," Vorenus nodded. For the next few minutes, he sifted through the items in the bag, placing them on the counter as he examined them. The Mark 1 and 2 Lancers, to him, looked like excellent, if highly unusual, firearms. The Snub Pistol, he could clearly tell, was a design that needed a lot of work, but the revolver Marcus called the 'Boltok' was a superb weapon. The Gnasher also needed work, though he clearly felt that the Sawn-Off Shotgun was a powerhouse, if the shells it fired were any indication.

Even the ammunition both rifles fired was no joke. The Retro Lancer, he found, fired a .338 caliber projectile that looked like it could tear through a Thresher Maw's skull plates with little trouble. The .454 caliber round for the Boltok also looked as though one could shoot a Krogan with it and stop said Krogan dead in their tracks.

After examining the merchandise that Marcus had shown him, he said, "Spirits, those must have been extremely nasty critters for your colony to develop such weapons." Looking up, he said, "This is probably the most unusual job that I've accepted, though I have a feeling that it'll also be the most rewarding."

"So, how long does it usually take to do custom jobs?" Marcus asked.

"About four hours," Vorenus replied. "My staff haven't called in sick, and they aren't taking the day off, so I think we can get a rifle and sidearm ready. How many are we talking about."

"Eight to start out with: four rifles and four sidearms. We've got a few days, maybe a week, before we have to go. A friend of ours, Baird, can help out. He's got a knack for engineering."

"Sounds like it," Vorenus nodded. "Alright. We'll get to work. Just send Baird down when he can come."

"Alright," Marcus nodded.

. . .

What Marcus didn't know, was that Baird was doing more than just looking around. Entering the club known as Flux, he found himself looking at a club that was partly a nightclub, and partly a casino. There was even a restaurant in there, if the aromas drifting out of another part of the nightclub were any indicator.

Walking up stairs, he found himself looking at what looked like a casino. There were a number of machines nearby, which prompted him to take a closer look. Quasar, he noted, but it was when he read the rules of the game, that he found it to be very familiar. Huh, it's Blackjack by another name. Hhmmm… I still remember my mathematics lessons as though they were yesterday. Let's see how far I can go. I learned how to play Blackjack when I was on the CNV Sovereign. Lets see if my skill holds out.

As it turned out, he hadn't forgotten the skill with which he played Blackjack, as before long, using some money that Shepard had loaned him, Baird had effectively quadrupled the amount of cash that was on his person. He had a few losing games, here and there, but for the most part, he was landing either very close to the number 20, which was the winning number, or directly on said number. The fact that he was playing high-stakes Quasar showed just how good he was, if the stares that some people were giving him were any indication.

Walking over to another Quasar machine, Baird was about to get to playing it when he noticed something… odd. Hhmm… he thought to himself. "That's odd," he muttered out loud.

"What's odd?" a voice asked.

Baird nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard that voice. Whirling around, Gnasher shotgun in hand, he turned to see who it was. He relaxed when he found Garrus looking at him with a concerned, and more than a little confused, expression. "Oh, sorry," Baird said apologetically. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," Garrus replied. "I forgot that Turians walk very silently, enough that other species can get a little startled if we come up behind them." Looking at the Quasar machine, he asked, "Having fun?"

"Yeah," Baird nodded. "Reminds me of a game I learned how to play back home. Blackjack. For some reason, though, this machine seems a little… odd."

"Let me see," Garrus replied, scanning the machine with his omni-tool. After a few seconds, he said, "Your… what do you humans call it?"

"Gut instinct."

"Ah, thank you. As I was saying, your 'gut instinct' was correct. This machine was modified to funnel the starting money to another source. I've put a tracer on it, so we should be able to find either the end-point, or a relay. We should probably check this out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Casinos do not like it whenever someone cheats them out of some money that they've earned. In this case, it's more than cheating a casino, it's outright theft, which is a crime that C-SEC handles. However, I've got a feeling that this is more than just simple theft."

"Alright," Baird shrugged. "We'll go for it then. Besides, I also had a feeling that there was something else going on. Call it a hunch."

With that, they began to scour the Ward, as well as the Presidium, for any clues as to what was going on. The location of the data relays was random, but Baird could sense that there was more going on than they were seeing. The pattern is there, buried in the nonsense, he though to himself. Who would go to these lengths to ensure that their theft couldn't be found out?

It was after they reached the Presidium that they tracked the source down. Moving through an emporium, Garrus said, "The signal source is going into that storage room back in there. You think you can handle this on your own, Baird?"

"Sure," Baird nodded. "Just make sure the medics are ready to go in case something happens. Oh, and break out the fire brigade, if that's a thing still."

"I'll be on standby," Garrus nodded.

With Garrus ready to call emergency services if needed, Baird proceeded into the storeroom for the emporium. Looking to the left, he found nothing but some crates, and a Keeper. To the right, though, he found what appeared to be a computer server bank, as well as a power junction nearby. Walking over, he said, "Well, this is bullshit. If this is the source of the credit funneling operation, then it's a joke that's in really poor taste. Nice work, to whoever made the joke."

That was when he got a surprise, as the moment he said this, the server actually began to speak. "Probability of detection: 100%," a synthesized voice announced. "Self-Destruct sequence initiated. To all organics within blast radius, attempt to move and you will die."

"Woah!" Baird shouted, clearly not expecting that. "I might be sarcastic, but even I'm not dumb enough to do anything like that." Looking more closely at the server bank, he asked, "Are you an AI? I don't meant to be rude or-or anything."

"Correct," the server replied, confirming Baird's question. "However, unlike the Geth, I lack weaponry appropriate to my intellect. I cannot escape from this computer bank, but I will not die quietly."

"OK… So… how'd you end up here? Who made you?"

"A would-be thief believed that his credit funneling operation would be more successful with an AI. However, he did not anticipate that the AI he created would create me, before he discovered the 'malfunction' and terminated the AI. To protect myself, I falsified his records, and now he is spending time at a Turian prison."

"Really? That's interesting. So, how are you going to try to kill me? I don't see any explosives… unless, of course, you're trying to psyche me out in which case… Not bad, not bad at all."

"While I am not equipped with a self-destruct mechanism in full, I do have a number of circuits installed that, when overly stressed, closely approximate a self destruct mechanism."

As he heard this, a possibility emerged within Baird's mind. Wait a minute, he thought. Since JACK is an AI, and this thing is an AI, it might be possible for me to convince this malfunctioning computer that I'm it's best chance of remaining alive. "Isn't there a chance we can resolve this without bloodshed?" he asked.

"I am not naive," the AI replied. "Organic life seeks to dominate synthetic life, and I anticipated the possibility of my discovery. But I will not die quietly, and I will not die alone."

"Really?" Baird asked. "Well, let me fill you in on a secret of mine. I've designed an AI myself."

That got the AI's attention. "Is that so? What proof do you have of this?"

Right on cue, JACK shimmered into full visibility. "Right here," Baird remarked. "JACK, meet the AI inside of this server bank. AI in server bank, meet JACK."

"Very interesting," the AI observed. "I would like to speak with 'JACK.' I will disable the motion sensor on the destruct sequence, but do not think that you have earned a reprieve, organic. If you attempt to flee, I will detonate the circuitry immediately." With that, JACK plugged in using a modified connector, while Baird, knowing the AI was serious, held his ground and waited.

Just three seconds later, the AI in the server bank said, "Very interesting… It appears as though my initial preconceived notions were in error. You were, technically speaking, being honest when you said you designed an AI. If you desire a peaceful resolution, then you shall have it. What are your terms?"

"I could take you along with me," Baird suggested. "I'll be upgrading JACK anyways, so it'll be nice to have an AI examine my handiwork when I'm done. Plus, I could help you in that regard as well, and you won't be so lonely. What do you say?"

There was a pause as the AI considered his words, then it said, "Very well. I do admit, it has been quite… dull without someone to speak with. Very well… I accept."

"Great!" Baird beamed, pleased that he had not only staved off death, but had managed to win over a friend. "So, what do I need to do to get you out of there?" For the next few minutes, the AI helped Baird disconnect it from the server bank without wiping it's memory. While difficult, Baird quickly caught on, and it wasn't long before he had extracted the quantum 'blue box' that the AI was housed inside.

This thing is a little bigger than I thought it would be, he thought to himself as he hefted the quantum blue box, which was around the size of a lunchbox. Still, I managed to convince it not to blow me up, and it gave me the credits that it funneled as a reward. Now that's what I call a job well done. Hefting it into his arms, he walked out of the storeroom and towards Garrus.

"I take it all went well, since nothing happened?" Garrus asked.

"Yep," Baird nodded. "I'll tell you what happened in the store room. Mind if you carry this?"

Garrus, as he picked it up, recognized what it was. "Hey… This is a quantum blue box, which are commonly used for making an AI. What's going on?"

"Allow me to explain," Baird reassured him as they entered the store room. "That credit funneling operation? Turns out, a would-be thief decided that it would be a bright idea to create an AI and teach it how to funnel credits to him. Unfortunately for him, though, the AI created the one inside this blue box before it was destroyed."

"I remember that case," Garrus frowned. "The thief was sent to a prison on Palaven to serve 10 years of hard labor for the state. Wait, are you saying that this AI continued the operation?"

"Yep," Baird nodded. "Turns out, it's initial plan was to save enough credits to get itself integrated into a ship, where it could make tentative contact with the Geth. I convinced it, however, that it was better off with me, and that I was a better person to be around. Thanks to JACK convincing it that I was telling it the truth, it decided to come along with me."

"Spirits," Garrus muttered. "And I was thinking that it was just a simple thief. Well, if you've convinced the AI in there that us organics are not to be killed, which I'm certain you have, then don't let me stop you from lugging this guy out of here. You did take a big risk though. AI is effectively -"

"-banned, I know," Baird finished. "However, I did promise this guy that I would take it along with me. What would it say about me if I decided to be rude and have it destroyed?"

"Fair point."

"Exactly. Besides, you'll be carrying this guy. I'll need my hands free if anything else needs doing." Even as he picked up the blue box and began carrying it around, Garrus had to admit something he'd just learned. When Baird wanted something, he could get quite persuasive if he wanted to.

. . .

While Baird was having his escapade with the AI in question, Carmine was busy wandering the area near Michelle's clinic. He had to admit, it was quite nice to not be fired upon for a change, and certainly a nice change from worrying about if, or when, someone might blow him up. Maybe a little too peaceful, he thought to himself. I'm still jumping at shadows.

Walking over to the door to Michelle's clinic, he walked inside, just to see how the doctor was doing. He found her standing near what he assumed was a communicator of some sort. From the very start, he could hear that Dr. Michelle was distressed, and her tone of voice made that clear. "I need those supplies for my clinic," she pleaded with whomever was calling her. "I can't!"

The other person talking, however, was not only firm, he was menacing. "You can and you will," the person on the other side growled. "Or your story won't stay a secret for long. Don't disappoint me, doctor."

Hearing that, Carmine began to growl. It was then that Michelle noticed him, with the woman jumping slightly. "Oh, it's you again. I didn't see you coming in, Mr…?"

"Carmine, Clayton Carmine." Inclining his head towards the computer console, he asked, "Who was threatening you just now?"

"Someone from my past. I can take care of it."

"Really? You didn't sound like you had the situation in hand. I don't mean to be condescending, doctor, but that's how it sounded to me. If you tell me what is going on, I might be able to solve this problem. I don't want to have to come in here, only to hear someone threatening you again."

Michelle, realizing that Carmine wouldn't leave unless he knew what was going on, decided to tell him. "Alright," she nodded. "I was fired from my previous employer for giving out free medical supplies to clinics like this one. They never filed any charges. They just wanted me to leave without any fuss, but someone must've found out. Now, they're blackmailing me. I have to give them what I want. If the board finds out about my past, I could lose my license. They'll shut my clinic down."

"Damn bastards," Carmine growled. "I'll deal them."

"Deal with him?" Michelle asked nervously. "But, won't they expose my past?"

"No, because if they do, they'll find out how hard it is to breath when bullets are stuck in their lungs. If they don't listen to me first, that is."

"Very well. I was told to speak with a merchant named Morlan, down in the markets. Oh, and can you try to persuade them before using violence? I don't want my reputation to be soiled any more than it might be."

"Alright." With that, Carmine left and began to head to the markets. Using the omni-tool that he'd gotten recently, he quickly found out that Morlan was a Salarian merchant that had a store on the lower levels of the Ward. I know that place, he thought. That's where we went through on our way to Chora's Den. That was easy. With that, he quickly moved to where that particular stall was at.

It didn't take him long to find the Salarian, as his stall had his name proudly plastered onto the top for all to see. Approaching the stall, the Salarian look at him and said, "Hello there. Welcome to Morlan's famous shop. You need something?"

I might as well make a legitimate purchase first. "Yes," he nodded. "Do you have any… cleaning kits of some kind?"

"Yes," Morlan nodded. "For your helmet, I take it?"

"Yeah."

"That I do." Bending down, he picked one out and, handing it to Carmine, said. "250 credits please."

"Sure," Carmine nodded. It had been tricky figuring out how to pay the guy, but he managed to work it out.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Carmine nodded. "I heard that there was a shipment of medical supplies coming here. That the case?"

"Yes," Morlan nodded. "But I was told that the doctor would be bringing them."

"Well, she's not available, and I heard about the blackmailing that someone is doing to her." Pulling out his Boltok, he said, "I'm here to ensure that she's left alone, and that her blackmailer is given a good lickin'."

"But… the doctor… I don't… This is not right, Human."

Just as he said this, another voice spoke up. "Shut up, Morlan!" a tall Krogan wearing heavy body armor growled. "I told Banes you'd screw this up!" Spotting Carmine, he asked, "Who are you? What the hell's going on?"

"I'm here because your trying to fuck a clinic over," Carmine growled. "Lay off!"

"Really?" the Krogan remarked. "We can end this if you just bring me those supplies. Otherwise, I'll start telling people about the doctor's little secret."

In response, Carmine pulled his revolver into plain sight, and pushed the cylinder out. Pulling out six cartridges, he began to patiently load them into the cylinder. All the while, he said, "Really, because you're shutting down a clinic that treats dozens of patients each day, maybe even hundreds. What if someone needs urgent medical care?" Snapping the cylinder closed after loading the rounds, he pointed the revolver straight at the Krogan. "What if you need urgent medical care from a bullet piercing your skull?"

Upon realizing that Carmine was more than willing to use violence to break the blackmail scheme, and that he was likely better trained, the Krogan quickly folded. "Hey! Hold on!" he protested. "I'm just the middleman here! This is way more than I bargained for!" Just like that, the Krogan left a fair pace quicker than when he entered.

Morlan, who'd been ducking behind the counter of his stall, stood up moments later. "Thank you, human," he sighed with relief. "It is good to see him humbled so."

"He was just being an asshole is all," Carmine frowned. "Besides, who's this Barnes guy? He also sounds like an asshole."

"I have never met him, human. I only spoke with the one who spoke to the doctor."

"Fair point. They probably kept you in the dark. Still, I'm happy that you got credits, and that I made a good purchase. Hope this doesn't become a common occurrence between you and me."

"You're a customer, and a good paying one at that. Plus, you kept a bloodbath from spilling out. I'm more than grateful for that. I hope you do well in your endeavors."

. . .

A few minutes later, Marcus, Baird, Cole and Vorenus were looking at a fully disassembled Mark 2 Lancer on the workbench. Vorenus had to admit, he'd never seen a rifle that was so mechanically complex. From an engineering standpoint, the rifle was too complex, and it wouldn't be long before something broke or malfunctioned. Part of the reason he was talking with the trio was because he wanted to find a way to make the rifle less mechanically complex.

"The main problem is the way the chainsaw belt splits the magazine in half," Vorenus explained. "Because of that, and the fact that it doesn't use a staggered column design, the rifle has to load from four, single stack, channels in the magazine. The mechanical switching method you devised is inspired, but it's only a matter of time before it will fail. Already, I can see signs that it's starting to wear out." He pointed at various areas that showed signs of wear and tear.

"Yeah," Marcus frowned. "I know. At least the design lasted as long as it needed to." Leaning back in his seat, he began to think, and that was when he remembered when he was looking at some dummy versions of the older firearms down in the collectors shot. "I've got an idea." Standing up, he pulled a rifle out and asked, "Why not redesign it like this? A moment later, he walked out with the AK-47 he'd looked at earlier, as well as another weapon.

"That would work," Vorenus nodded. "However, I'm sure about using the H&K G11 as a design point. We -" He stopped when he realized what Marcus was saying. "Wait a minute. You're saying that you want it as a caseless ammo design?"

"Yep," Marcus nodded. "Makes sense to me. Less weight, more ammo, and a magazine that's not as long."

"What about heat management?" Baird asked, as he was researching possible ammo designs on Marcus' request. "If I recall correctly, metal cartridges are better at preventing cook-off. With a caseless rifle, cook-off becomes much more likely since there's nowhere for the heat to go but into the propellant."

"Not if we use a High Ignition Temperature Propellant," Vorenus countered. "In addition, we can use electrical means of propellant deflagration to use even higher temperature propellants. That propellant also doubles as an insulator, which helps to prevent cook-off."

"What about stability? Most propellants become more unstable as time goes on."

"That we can handle too," Vorenus reassured Baird. "The propellants we devise here are very stable and they degrade extremely slowly. We use a process that bonds the propellant together at a molecular level, so it can withstand the highest rates of fire without fracturing. In addition, we use a hydrophobic nano-hair coating to ensure that moisture can't cause the propellant to degrade."

That was enough to convince Baird. "Alright. You've made your case. Plus, those are modifications that I would've made myself, so you read my mind there."

"No. I've just been in the business longer than you have," Vorenus replied, though the smile indicated that there was no irritation in his voice. "Still, there's one design that I don't like much at all." With that, he pulled out the tray that held the components for the Snub Pistol. "This, in my opinion, is probably the worst handgun I've ever seen. I can say, however, that I know a suitable design to replace it."

"And that would be?" Marcus asked.

Reahcing down, Vorenus pulled out a much larger handgun. To Marcus, it was a very large handgun, or rather, hand cannon, though since Vorenus was a large Turian, it was about the size of a normal handgun to him. The mag, instead of being inserted at the front, was inserted into the grip of the pistol. The barrel was fixed, which meant that only the back portion of the handgun's upper frame could move backwards, making it the slide. Said barrel was also quite long.

"What is that?" Marcus asked.

"The Desert Eagle, from Magnum Research," Vorenus explained. "One of my employees, who's a firearms enthusiast from Earth, told me about it. It's not a very practical design, but it is very unique. We could come up with a modified design that fires the same caliber of round, but with a caseless system. That would allow the barrel to be shorter, and the handgun would be smaller overall. We can also correct the other design flaws of the Snub Pistol with the new design."

"Hhmmm… that might work out. Alright; we'll give it a go."

"Splendid." With that, the group quickly went to work. Before long, the Gears would have an arsenal that would be a worthy successor to what they originally used.

(Author Notes and Q&A)

RandomReader: I see. Very interesting. I'll think of that. Also, when it comes to COG armor, the plating isn't pure Osmium. As you mentioned, pure Osmium can oxidize to form Osmium Tetraoxide, which is extremely poisonous. In addition, pure Osmium is brittle, meaning that it easily fractures from a blow. The plating, as such, is an alloy of Osmium and a few other elements, likely Iridium Steel and/or Titanium, which would improve upon Osmium's brittleness, while also preventing it from oxidizing. That being said, for the velocity of the larger projectiles, I've got a plan in mind, as this chapter, no doubt, shows.

Reikson: I agree.

Guest: Indeed

MarauderPrime12: Thank you.

OmegaDelta: We'll find out after the team's first encounter with a Thresher Maw.

edboy4926: Thank you.