Every Spartan had a specialty. Linda's was long-range combat, Fred and Li's was hand-to-hand, Anton was a scout, Grace had a knack with explosives, and so on and so forth. Each had chosen to be extensively trained in a certain field, in which field they became the absolute best of their class. Every Spartan had a specialty. Except John. If anyone ever exemplified the trait of Jack-of-all-trades, master of none, it was him. Well, maybe not quite. More like, almost-master-of-all-trades.
He was never the best in any certain field. Fred had him beat in hand to hand, Linda was a better shot, Kelly was faster, Kirk was a better motivator, Fhajad was smarter. No, John was good, very good, at just about everything he did. But he was always 2nd or 3rd best. But John did excel at one thing more than any other Spartan. He was a leader. Not in the sense that Kirk was a leader. John was not as charismatic or friendly as Kirk was, but there wasn't a single Spartan could think faster on their feet than Spartan-117 – the reason he was chosen as Squad Leader. Although he would vehemently disagree if asked, it had often been said that he was the bravest of the Spartan's, and that, combined with his ability to think quickly, and his inherent luck, he had the ability to throw himself into almost any conceivable situation, and then come right back out, victorious.
This was the situation in which he found himself now. As a Master Chief Petty Officer (of the Navy – as he had been casually informed aboard his short stay on the Infinity), he held authority over any enlisted man in the service, but as the Master Chief, he had an unseen authority that weighted heavily with Lieutenants and Admirals alike.
Time to go to work. As the three looked out from their spot on the mountain onto the facility, John weighed his options. Looking at the two beside him, and considering the prisoners inside, he understood they were limited. He began to formulate a plan.
He gestured to the suited girl first, and spoke, voice laden with authority. "I need you to temporarily disable those aircraft. Take him," he gestured to Vega, "and get close enough to establish contact with the nearest one on my mark, not before." He looked back at the facility. "You'll have a 30 second window to get in, and get it done. Once they've been disabled, wait for my confirmation, and move inside and secure the crew. I'll keep the guards distracted for enough time for you to get inside. Secure the prisoners, and proceed to exfil," which he marked as the 'shuttles'. He waited until they confirmed his orders, which they eventually did, if but hesitantly. This was by far the most he'd ever spoken to any of the crew, and no doubt it surprised them.
The soldier, Vega, spoke then, "how do we know we can trust you – that this will even work?"
The Chief looked back at him. "You don't. You got a better idea?" Vega stared, then shook his head, and sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and swore softly.
"I've already linked our comms, one click means ready, two means hold, and three means go. We clear?"
Nods. The Master Chief nodded back, and then slunk away slowly into the hillside, moving into the position he designated for himself, and got to work. Using his suits advanced communication infiltration package, he used a trick Joshua had shown him once, threading the needle of communication channels and dud freqs, until he found what he was looking for -the mercs transmission frequency. He snorted in disgust, their cyber security was disgraceful – firewalls had been non-existent. But he wouldn't complain. He dummied his line to clone a signal emitter, allowing him to sent a short burst transmission through the entire frequency. He wouldn't be able to listen in on anything, but it would serve his purpose. Enough to direct their attention elsewhere.
OOOO
Kurgis had no idea what he was doing here. None of them did, really. All they knew was that they were hired for some ass-wipe job in this balls-freezing wasteland to guard the poor sonsabitches that had been stupid enough to fall right into his clients lap. He had heard some stories about this particular outfit that had hired out his fellow mercs, and he shivered to think what would happen to the prisoners when the boss was done.
As he trudged around the borders of the facility, he looked around at the nearby mountains, glistening with fresh snowfall, their craggy peaks and serene valleys providing a beautiful sight in which to perform the most miserable job ever. Guard duty. Kurgis hated guard duty. He would much rather be-
Static filled his ear. 'The hell…?' Nothing went static anymore – this was almost the 23rd century! He tapped his earpiece, confused, then looked at one of the fellow guards on perimeter duty, who seemed to be having the same problem.
"Equipment failure! Reboot your headset!" He shouted, as the groups de facto electrician, this was probably on him – the other guard nodded, and then got on one knee as he removed his helmet and set down his rifle to start the quick restart process for the headset. Kurgis started mumbling to himself as he looked down at his own piece. Of course he got ripped off picking out comms equipment. Their provider never seemed to like outfitting his group. As he used his omnitool to reboot his comms, he, in quite an old-fashioned style, slapped it firmly. The tried and tested method of fixing things never seemed to amaze him. Didn't quite work out this time, but still. He hadn't expected it to. As his unit finished rebooting, he stood up, and went to continue his route.
He froze. The other guard was lying dead on the ground, skull crushed. His rifle immediately found its place against his shoulder, as his eyes darted around. "We've got-" was all he managed before he, too, met his fate, in the shape of a rock splitting his skull.
OOOO
'Keelah Tali, you stupid bosh'tet. You should've known that this was a bad idea, and here you go. This guy hasn't spoken barely 5 words in total until now, and off you go, hanging on his every word.' She sighed. No, this was the best idea they had, and even if it was a crazy Geth-looking 2 meter statue that suggested it, Tali had to agree.
A single comm click reached her ears. The Master Chief was in position. She took a deep breath. They were putting a lot of trust in him, and even though he seemed to know what he was doing, Tali was all but assigning herself to the list of dead Quarians killed by stupid robots. Still, it was the best chance they had, and if the green giant was volunteering to be the bait, who was she to argue?
She clicked her comm back, once. Ready. So did Vega. 'Click click clickity clack', thought Tali. 'And wait for the giant robot to stab us in the back. Hehe, that rhymed.' Just talk, dammit! She hated this curt and simple form of communication. If it was up to her-
Click, Click, Click. Time to go. Vega burst from his cover, and ran, low and fast, trying to hide his silhouette as much as possible.
The guards were talking amongst themselves, seemingly agitated, tapping away at their comm headsets. Tali heard a scream from the back of the compound, and then rapid weapons fire. The guards whipped around – that was their cue. She darted forward, and watched as Vega snuck up behind a distracted Turian guard, and clonked him hard on the back of the head. The Turian fell to the ground in a heap, and as Vega grabbed the body to drag it away, he whisper-shouted at Tali, "Go!"
She snuck into the nearest shuttle, meters from the closest guard. She had to be quiet. Using her omnitool, she established a direct link to the other shuttles – it would temporarily disable them. She didn't exactly know why this was part of the plan, but she did it anyways. Sabotage.
The sounds of gunfire and screaming continued from the other side of the compound. 'Damn," she thought. 'Hate to be those guys.' The Chief had given her thirty seconds. She only needed 20. She clicked her comm once. Ready. She heard two back. Hold. As Vega joined her in the shuttle, they crouched low, ready to make a mad dash to the building. The guards were obviously occupied with the green titan at the moment, and although a few stayed behind at their posts, a majority had joined their comrades on the far side of the facility, seeming as eager to die as a mayfly in June. The resistance here was paltry.
Three comm clicks. Go. She and Vega darted from their positions, running full speed to the nearest door. 20 meters, 15 meters, 10 meters – when the door swung open. A small group of three poured out, and as soon as they saw them, opened fire. So did the two runners. There were two advantages that the two members of the Normandy crew had in this regards. The first, its harder to hit a moving target. And although they were running straight at them, the principle still technically applied, as they darted to the side to avoid fire. The second advantage was that the mercs had obviously been expecting to encounter hostiles on the other side of the compound, where the gunfire was coming from. They had been expecting a gunfight, just not right then. The result? Three dead mercs.
As Tali reached the doors, she realized they were actually very fortunate that the door had been opened from the inside, as it seemed that the lock would have been very difficult to open otherwise. Her eyes scanned the buildings interior. It was like a big warehouse, with corners sectioned off for rooms, and piles of crates lining the walls and middle. There was not as many guards as she thought there'd be.
As they darted around the room, taking cover and trading potshots with the remaining defenders, her eyes scanned the room for anything that might signify the missing crew. She saw a room at the fair end, where more guards burst out of a door, and she could hear the faint echoing of boots on stairs. That was it. Now, if only to get there.
The remaining mercenaries scrambled to cover, Vega's M-76 Revenant driving their heads down. "We're in trouble," he grunted. Tali could see that much for herself. Small team of Blue Suns was trying to flank them from the side, Tali caught sight of them as they ducked behind various packaging crates. A selected button on her omnitool sent her personal combat drone to 'flank the flankers'. As she waited for the drone to get into position, she readied her Katana shotgun and crouched low. "James, we have incoming," she whispered, seconds before her drone proceeded to shock the unsuspecting ambushers. As soon as she heard the signs, Tali sprinted to the guard's position and opened fire with her shotgun, blowing pieces of their bodies away – the drone had heavily affected the defender's kinetic barriers, leaving them whittled down enough for Tali to shred them with her powerful shotgun.
They lie in pools of their own blood, a few pieces formerly belonging to living beings scattering the area.
She turned and ran back to Vega, who was proceeding to pick of the mercs who had ascended the stairwell that was apparently hiding in the far room. Even with his accurate fire, there were just too many.
They had to think of something, and they had to think of it fast.
OOOO
Grunt was, for lack of a better term, pissed. Here he was, locked in a box, with a merc group threatening to kill them all. His battle-master was coughing up a small amount of blood, undoubtedly due to his treatment at the hands of these pathetic mercenaries.
But what really set him off, he had been incapacitated and straight up knocked out, twice this week. And both times, humans had done it! It was starting to make his brain itch, as he paced the small rectangular box in which the team had been placed. His blood boiled as he looked around the cell for any escape. He couldn't stand the confines of such a small area with such a large group.
The other crew were discussing plans. He ignored them. Let them plan. He was here to kill – and he would be doing a lot of that the second he got free of this pathetic box. He had gotten tired of the rest of the biotic gang trying their damn hardest to level the place. There seemed to be some sort of eezo field that made every biotic attempt fizzle out into non-existence. They were, in layman's terms, in a pickle.
His fists clenched and breathing heavy, Grunt muttered under his breath. 'Stupid humans. Stupid boxes. Stupid biotics. Stupid everything.' He had tried his duly best to smash his way out, to no effect. That hadn't kept him from trying again and again in an attempt to do so.
He walked to the nearest wall and headbutted it as hard as he could. Clang. The other crew members shot looks in his direction – but he didn't pay them any attention. Clang. He was sick and tired of this. Clang. He would not die like this. Clang. He was a Krogan. Clang. A tank-born! Clang clang. AHHHHHH CLANG. He heard a faint sound, metal scraping on metal, as something on the outside of the box started to move.
His eyes widened. YES! He, Grunt, had done it! He had freed them, with a headbutt no less! He cackled darkly as the door slowly opened. He ran for the opening, and was overjoyed to find no less than a dozen Blue Suns in his way. He raised his fists, took a deep breath to roar out his defiance, and promptly fell unconscious on the floor, body pulsating with an electric current. The team of mercs turned to those in the container, and fired, attacking each of the occupants with the same high voltage shock, who swiftly followed Grunt's example.
'Not again...' was the general thought.
OOOO
"rrrrr." His head hurt. A lot. His body convulsed, his brain somehow overcoming the – pardon the pun – shock of the last few moments. "Arrghh," was his unintelligible mumble. 'Those damn Blue faced balls of meat are gonna get what's coming to them.'
Somehow, among the convulsions and muscle spasms, Grunt was able to glance around the room. He saw the others, in a similar pickle as he was, convulsing on the ground, all of them unconscious. He smirked despite the situation. 'Damn squishees.'
It was hard to think. Hard to focus on anything. He realized he was only awake because he was Krogan. His body was able to withstand a good deal more punishment than the rest. But even then, electricity didn't care much for that. But willpower did.
He managed to look up, and spotted the team of Suns leering over the bodies of his spasming friends. One of them spoke - "Good, kill them."
No! He couldn't – he wouldn't die like this. He roared, at least in his head. His clawed hand, in an act of pure determination reached up to his chest, slowly but surely, as the voltage increased. He screamed in pain – in defiance of the situation, and with utter hatred towards those who sought to off him like this. His hand reached the small, metallic circle pinned to his chest, the projectile that had stunned him.
His fingers grasped the object, then ripped it from his chest. Instantly, the spasms stopped.
Now, there are a few things the readers of this story must understand. The first, is that when experiencing direct contact with any high voltage electric source, the jolt is usually enough to put a normal person square on their ass for a good while. The muscle spasms are quite intense, and can continue for a time after the initial shock has ended. The second thing to understand, Krogan are not normal people. This played out in the following way.
The instant the spasms stopped, Grunt rolled to his side. He was relieved to be free of the pain, but now was mad. Really mad. He bowled into the nearest guard, who had clearly not expected this as a possible outcome, and grabbed his leg. The Krogan tank-born swung the poor Salarian guard like a bat, talking out to more in the process. He roared, long and loud, his blood pulsating with fury. He charged the nearest group, arms and limbs flailing in panic as they tried to escape the blood-raging Krogan. Like a rabid dog, he sicced himself upon them, biting and tearing and clawing. He felt rounds impact his body, penetrating his armor. He didn't care.
He ripped and shredded until there was nothing left but ribbons. The three guards that had been left, skittered along, panicking. Their 'stun guns' apparently only suited for a one person at a time charge, were useless on the ground. He walked over to them slowly, smiling to himself.
He grabbed one of them by the leg, who whimpered softly. "Hehe. Hi." He snapped the unfortunate guards neck, and then threw the body into the other two, before stomping in their skulls.
"HAHA! Take that you sons of bitches. Teach you never to mess with a krogan again! HAHA!" His gloating stopped as he realized something. No one else had joined him in his celebrations. He looked down at his team, and saw that they were all lying on the floor, still as stone. No… NO!
He was a Krogan, he could take more damage than they could. But still - they couldn't be…. Could they?
He knew they had scaled up the power after the order from the lead guard. Had he been too late? Yes…. It seemed apparent as every one of the Normandy's crew lay still as rocks on the floor. He had failed.
These mercenaries were going to pay.
OOOOO
These new enemies were much different than what the Chief was used to. They were physically much smaller and slower than what he was used to fighting. The weaponry that they used was lighting fast as well, it made dodging a struggle. He had caught the guards, well, off-guard during the first few seconds of the engagement, allowing him to pick up an unusual looking weapon that reminded him of Covenant plasma weaponry, in this case, the Type 75 Carbine in terms of actual projectiles, that seemed to fire fully automatically.
He liked it. There was very little recoil, which, in Spartan terms, basically meant there was no recoil. The actual projectiles seemed to reach the target almost instantaneously – there was no need to lead shots, and the extremely fast movement cut right through body armor. While it took quite a few shots to actually put someone down, he supposed the advantages outweighed the disadvantages.
John was surprised with the first few enemies, as the projectiles seemed to bounce off a thin blue film that surrounded the combatant. Energy shields. He was initially worried when his first few shots seemed ineffective, but he soon discovered that they, like anything, could break. And break them he did.
The Master Chief's initial confusion originated from the fact that certain barriers seemed to have done very little to protect the first few guards, which he had killed with tossed rocks and fists. It seemed they only came into play with fast-moving projectiles. That was just fine for him.
He was currently causing mayhem with a small bunch that had rounded the corner, obviously angry and vengeful over the fact that their squad mates had been utterly decimated by an unseen foe. He blurred into their number, a small six man group filled with a variety of lifeforms.
On the approach, he managed to dodge a swift moving blue orb that had sailed his way, tossed by a similarly blue skinned woman that was the same species as the one he had encountered on the Normandy. That would definitely warrant further investigation. He had no idea what these kinds of projectiles would do to his shields, so he needed to stay mobile.
He stepped inside their small formation fast as lightning, and ripped the woman's firearm out of her arms, breaking fingers and a wrist. In the same movement, he brought it back inside, and slammed the butt of the strange weapon into her chest, breaking both. Her body dropped without a sound, but he was already in a different place. He fired a burst at the furthest foe in an effort to take down its shields and distract the large, avian creature – simultaneously placing his armored fist against a woman's head, cracking her skull. His boot flew forward, snapping another neck, and again, he was gone. He reached out, and grabbed the wrist of the fifth foe, a tall, lanky alien with large eyes, pulling it roughly towards him. As the body sped his way, his knee came up, and impacted heavily on the creatures head – caving it in. He continued firing at the last enemy until it too hit the ground, dead.
The whole sequence was over in seconds, no eyes could track him as he moved on, firing at a group of stunned guards. He was a blur of green, the last nightmare these criminals would ever have. He heard his comm click as he gunned down another one, it looked like Tali had done her job. And early too. The problem was that the Chief knew they needed a few seconds more the get their utmost attention as a result, he did something rather extravagant, more for the psychological warfare aspect than anything else, as another blue skinned fighter charged him, her body surrounded in a dull blue color. Again, his boot snapped out, impacting the chest of the mercenary with the force of… well, a Spartan's kick. She flew through the air like her own miniature aircraft before impacting hard against a metal shipping crate, 10 meters away. Before she even hit the crate, though, the Chief had turned, grabbed the nearest guard by the arm, putting a hand on the same side of the torso, and pulled. He heard the bones break, and saw the flesh start to tear, but the scream was what he really needed. Nothing got peoples attention like their friends being ripped apart. It sure worked, and he spent the next few moments laying down suppressive fire as he darted to a new position.
So far, the defenders seemed convinced there was more than one attacking foe – which was his intention. He wanted to focus their main force on stopping him, drawing their attention away from the two on the other side, and hopefully buying just enough time for them to slip though, undetected.
Good. He clicked his comm thrice, the go ahead for them to move inside the building. He had significantly distracted them, and succeeded in winding down their numbers. He had been able to keep the comms down for 30 seconds, almost enough time to have Tali and Vega inside the building. As soon as the mercs were able to spread chatter about the situation, the prisoners would likely be executed.
Already numbers thinned, the guards were apprehensive. The green being among them was one of nightmares, who lurked in the shadows and struck swiftly, tearing limbs and breaking bones before leaving – like a ghost.
He was simply an avatar of death.
OOOO
Tali heard the screams from the stairwell before she realized what was going on. She watched as a number of the guards whipped around – confused. It gave them just the opportunity they needed, as the Alliance Marine mercilessly cut them down, throwing a frag grenade into the largest bunch for good measure. When it blew, the insides became outsides, coating the walls in sticky red and organs.
The young Quarian forced herself to focus, the gruesome reality of war had a tendency to make even the experienced squeamish.
She looked at Vega, who turned to her after throwing the frag grenade and ducking behind cover. "Now's our chance," he said, "I don't know what's going on down there, or out there, but I'm guessing that Shepard and the rest are being held downstairs. Get ready to move on my mark – I'll cover you."
Tali nodded, getting her feet under her as she braced herself to sprint for the nearest cover at the stairwell. "Mark!" And she took off as fast as her feet would carry her. Noises faded into the background as she used every last drop of speed at her disposal. She faintly heard Vega's rifle retort behind her, and more clearly saw the results of what had been done. Her sudden movements had shocked some of the defenders into action, who popped out of cover and were immediately set upon by the bulky marine. They fell little by little as she finally reached her cover.
She peeped her head out, and blew off an Asari's head with her shotgun as she attempted to sneak up on her new position. She signaled her combat drone to sweep in and provide a momentary distraction while Vega joined her behind the crate. The volume of the screaming increased, along with a familiar noise they were both relieved to hear – a bellowing Krogan. Grunt. They smirked.
"Let's go – we don't have a lot of time, and I think the Master Chief can handle the guys in this room. We have to get to the rest."
"Okay, lead the way."
Cautiously, Vega peeked around the corner, before launching another frag grenade into the nearby enfilade provided by the shipping crate. "Go!" The order spurred them both into motion, as they bolted for the stairs. A surprised merc met them halfway down, who was subsequently gunned down as the two proceeded inwards.
They entered a long hallway about 4 meters wide, lined with doors and other rooms. Other guards were facing away from them towards a door at the far end -and were caught out in the open as Vega and Tali turned their guns on them. A particularly brave Turian kept up the covering fire as he advanced. James, who had already taken a smattering of rounds to his kinetic barrier, felt as a hot object cut through low in his side, right above his hip. He kept firing though, and as soon as the Turian hit the deck, he rushed to the nearest open door, eager to get into cover.
"You okay?" Tali yelled, herself on the other side of the hallway another 5 meters back, with a very concerned tone of voice, she had seen Vega get hit, the mass accelerator round leaving a blood spatter as it continued through metal, flesh, then metal again on its way to the back of the hallway.
"Yeah," he grunted back, not looking down just yet. He'd be fine, it hadn't seemed to hit anything vital, and mass accelerator rounds usually left a small entry and exit wound due to their extremely high velocity. It hurt like hell, but he'd make it. He looked over at the area where the last of the guards seemed to be stationed, themselves doing their best to remain hidden from the unfriendly fire.
"What do you think?" Tali questioned.
He frowned at that. He wasn't fond of another hail Mary rush through the narrow corridor. He racked his brain, trying to come up with a plan. Fortunately, he didn't have to.
Grunt chose that moment to emerge from the far room, roaring like a demon from the lowest level of the nine hells. The guards whipped his way, only to find their bones broken and shattered against the raging krogan's onslaught. The alliance Marine smiled. Of all the good timing.
"Grunt!" He yelled, hoping to get his attention.
"What?" The krogan sounded mad.
"Want some back up?"
"Hell of a time, dipshit," came the grumble of a reply.
"I could say the same! You have the others?"
Grunt hesitated a brief second before answering. James' heart caught in his throat. "They're in here."
The newcomers looked at each other, sharing a concerned look before heading anxiously into the room where the krogan had just been. What greeted them was like a scene from a horror movie. Limbs and appendages had been tossed about half-haphazardly, and blood and guts lined the floor and walls.
Tali shivered. She knew had the tendency to turn into a raging monster, but this… this was something else. As she looked around at the contents of the room, her breath caught in her throat, as she spotted the familiar shapes lying on the ground, unmoving.
"I… I wasn't fast enough..." Said Grunt.
"No..." It couldn't be. She darted over to the nearest body, which she recognized as Jack. Her eyes bulged as she saw the now mutilated left hand, missing the index finger entirely. She shook the convict, who didn't move.
Vega joined her, placing a hand on Jack's neck, feeling for a pulse. Tali watched as he breathed a sigh of relief. "She's alive." He instantly moved on to the others, alive as well.
Grunt chuckled. "Knew they were tough bastards."
Tali turned and yelled at him. "You stupid bosh'tet! I thought they were dead! You didn't check?"
The krogan berserker shrugged back, then gestured at the new decorations. "I was a little busy."
They checked the others, relieved to find them all alive.
Samara was the first to stir, followed by Garrus. One-by-one, they all groaned their own wake-up calls, and in some cases, continued to lay flat on the ground, breathing heavily.
Soon, they were all awake, with the exception of Commander Shepard, whose pulse was fainter than the others have been – he hadn't moved, he was barely breathing. Tali hung over him, trying to gauge other vitals. She wasn't a doctor, she couldn't do much.
She was greeted by Miranda, who had woken in a very bitchy mood, which instantly cooled when she saw the Commander. She came right over, trying to do as Tali was done.
Tali watched as the Cerberus operative took a shaky breath. "It's…. it's not good. He needs help. So does Jack," as she gestured to said woman, who was sitting silently on the ground, staring at her own hand. Miranda turned back to Tali. "Thank you – for coming back."
The Quarian nodded, "of course! I mean, we really didn't have any other option."
"Yeah- I guess that's true." The Normandy XO's eyebrows narrowed. "How did… how did you get here?"
Tali looked at the floor, her hand finding a place on the opposite arm. "We… may have had a little help."
"From?"
She coughed. "The Master Chief." The engineer watched as eyes widened, disbelief obvious in their gaze.
"You're kidding. Where is he?"
Tali looked back the way they had come. All she say was a blank hallway. "I don't know, I think he's still out there."
"….. Well, I guess we have to thank him too. Come on, lets get everyone up and get out of here."
The small crew, tired to the bones and relieved to be rid of the vestiges of their cell, picked up various weapons and made their way to the hallway. Miranda watched Jack as the convict walked – head down, towards their exit. Upon closer inspection, she seemed to be…. Shaking. She knew they weren't close, but even she felt the need to console the convict, something she hadn't ever even remotely felt in the past. She laid a hand on her fellow biotics shoulder. She felt the body stiffen under her touch.
"Don't. Touch. Me."
"Are you okay?"
"I said, Don't touch me bitch."
Miranda sighed internally. Jack was fine, for now – shaking with anger, not sadness or pain. So, the usual.
She saw as Jacob slung the Commander over his back, and they made their way up their stairs. When they reached the ground floor, her eyes glanced over the remains of the recent conflict.
Zaeed chose that moment to whistle. "Dayum. You really didn't leave much for the rest of us, did you?"
Vega stopped and examined the contents of the room. "I don't… I didn't think we did all of this."
Miranda was incredulous. "Then wh-" She froze, the words never quite making it out. Oh.
A dark green silhouette stepped out from the shadows, silent as the night itself. Spattered in different colors of alien and human blood, the mass accelerator rifle looked like a toy in the Master Chief's massive hands. He seemed to stand 2 feet taller than usual - surrounded as he was by the remains of a dozen dead mercs. As he shifted into view, the gold visor stared impassively back at them.
"Area clear."
Silence greeted him. None of those present seemed to find words. And then simply, he turned and walked out of the room. Each of those present tentatively followed, sharing confused looks.
As they exited the room, the green giant turned to them again, and spoke in his gravelly voice, which seemed to be carved out of the mountain face.
"Remove the locks on two of the aircraft."
They all stared at him, utterly confused. He stared back.
"Oh… oh right." Tali scrambled forward, fingers fumbling on her omnitool, towards the shuttle area.
"You disabled their shuttles? Why?" Came the question from Garrus direction, voice tainted with suspicion.
The green giant replied, almost casually. "Guarantee extraction."
The team slowly made their way to the shuttles, eyes wide as they witnessed the mayhem around them. Bodies lay contorted, smashed and punctured in every direction, like a macabre parade of the dead. Members of all sorts of species, Asari, Salarian, Turian, and Human, all clad in the same bluish tinted armor – a celebration of color, with the paint being their blood.
Miranda felt a shiver run down her spine, as her eyes darted towards the cause of the destruction. The behemoth walked calmly besides the team, before taking one long look at the surrounding area. The Cerberus felt a nudge on her arm, and her eyes turned and saw Kasumi, who gestured towards one of the shuttles the team would use to depart. "You were staring," came the whisper. Oops.
As she got onto the shuttle and began to look deeper at the Commander's condition- who had been set down on the floor of the shuttle for treatment, she watched the giant pause, and hesitate for a brief moment before turning back, and stepping onto the shuttle. The craft shifted under his weight, and the occupants of the other shuttle looked at them in apprehension. He looked down at her, before turning around, and sat down, occupying two of the seats.
It seemed he was here to stay.
