Cenotaph I: The Morrow

by Rob Sears

Roahn'Shepard was always doomed to an abnormal life. As the daughter of John and Tali, she would always be overshadowed by her parents' heroics, but at home... her father is no hero. He is distant. Withdrawn. But when a new threat arises, she and her father are forced to confront their differences and Roahn will soon discover what it means to be the daughter of Commander Shepard.

22. Chapter 22: Reichstag Pt II

EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM

GERMANY AUTHORITY BROADCAST

LOCAL UPRISING ALERT FOR:

BERLIN AREA (DOWNTOWN)

THE ALLIANCE HAS ISSUED A WARNING FOR DISORDERLY CONDUCT IN ADDITION TO VIOLENT ACTS OF TERROR. MAPS OF AREAS TO AVOID HAVE BEEN SENT TO ALL OMNI-TOOLS. THIS WARNING IS EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY AND WILL CONTINUE UNTIL THE ALLIANCE SENDS OUT THE ALL-CLEAR.

CITIZENS ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO AVOID THE FOLLOWING AREAS:

- TEMPELHOF

- SCHÖNEBERG

- TIERGARTEN

DO NOT APPROACH. DO NOT INTERVENE.

YOUR SAFETY IS OUR PRIORITY.

CONTROL WILL RETURN IN SHORT ORDER.

THE TIME IS 10:22 AM.

---

The overcast sky blotted out the sun overhead, but the light from the celestial body diffused through the mist of vapor and ice regardless, widening in a conical fashion that exhibited a warm glow through the sleet. Individual drops of snow became black as they were silhouetted against the light, slashing ribbons through the frosty cold that draped over the city.

A large figure joined the scything precipitation, eyes momentarily blinking orange as stone dust from its launch upward trailed just below its feet while the shape sailed through the airs. The shadow's fingers curved, claw-like, sharp swords protruding from its wrists. A frightful bellow filled the space between the snowflakes, shockwaves so powerful they managed to influence the direction of stray molecules in the air.

The Legionnaire tucked in, jets on the soles of his feet flaring to orient himself perfectly. Like a missile, he shot down to earth feet-first. His prey waited below.

Shepard tracked the cyborg's leap and managed to dive out of the way just scant seconds before his foe landed. The heavy mechanoid dropped onto the thick stone walkway heavily, a seismic wave being thrown up from the weight of his arrival, which threatened to throw Shepard off his feet.

Powdered snow rippled and exploded in a gentle cloud around the Legionnaire, dusting him with white. Mechanical whirring and clanking noises erupted as the operative stood to his full height, an obelisk against the storm.

"And now," the cyborg whispered, "my task is nearly accomplished."

The Legionnaire then uttered a short growl as he turned towards the nearby human, not wasting any time in targeting Shepard—half a dozen arming locks had all managed to center themselves upon Shepard's body, keeping his line of sight centered. Fluidly, the cyborg stepped forth and brutally slashed at the commander with his nano-blades, the arcs managing to part air and falling snowflakes as the masterfully-crafted scimitars seemingly warped space and time in their wake as they trailed on by, leaving ribbons of vacuums detonating in micro-explosions as the displaced air crashed back together.

The blades passed centimeters from Shepard's body and a brief wash of wind fluttered against him from the sheer force of the Legionnaire's blow. Rifle in hand, Shepard snapped the weapon off and began holding down the trigger on full auto, levelling a punishing salvo upon the cyborg—yellow armor-piercing rounds spat in a trajectory of only a few feet, smashing themselves upon the Legionnaire's shields. The metal foe threw up a hand on instinct to ward off the bullets, his barriers already straining close to breaking completely. The hexagonal blue coating around the Legionnaire that warped in and out of existence as the bullets vaporized themselves upon it sizzled and cooked, ripples streaming out in all directions as the harsh tang of ozone came to the senses.

Roaring again, the Legionnaire straightened up and began to stride forward as Shepard cautiously backed up—still firing—and both individuals were now angling slightly up the shallow steps of the Reichstag, towards the glass entrance. The cyborg whirled and stabbed, intending to catch Shepard with his blades, but Shepard kept leaping away at the last moment, giving himself ample room to maneuver.

Warbling heavily, the Legionnaire then paused in his attacks at the same time that Shepard ejected a thermal clip. The oculi upon the monster narrowed and the cyborg's next step forward was almost tentative, uncharacteristically cautious. Shepard, after slotting in the next clip, paused as well, laying off his assault in momentary confusion.

"You know that you're on borrowed time," the Legionnaire taunted nastily as Shepard's aghast face stiffened grimly. "You can't dodge my attacks forever, Shepard. You'll tire, as all organics do. You'll be worn out—"

The timeline that the Legionnaire was about to verbally recount to Shepard in his vapid attempt to demoralize the commander was suddenly cut short as there was the snarling bellow of a fuel cell engine and a thick dark blur rapidly passed within a few feet of Shepard's face. A heavy object then slammed into the Legionnaire and promptly ran the operative over once more—the culprit being the second Lynx vehicle with a raucous krogan at the wheel, who had been laughing all the while as he had demonstrated what 3400 horsepower could pull off.

A few pieces of armor—knocked clean off the Legionnaire—clattered to the ground in front of Shepard. The commander blinked in surprise, stunned to the point of being stiff even after Grunt jumped out of the Lynx, a scratched and chipped war hammer ready to go in his massive hands.

"I don't think he was expecting that," the krogan grinned.

"It does not appear that way," Shepard agreed, now becoming a little distracted by the thrum of the protestors behind him. More agitation was also approaching from the front of the Reichstag, where Shepard could now see several squads of Chimera troopers in their red-and-black bulky armor head over to his position, weapons at the ready. He instinctively looked back at the crowd behind him, back at the multiracial throng that cheered and gasped all as one, like an audience all watching the same film in the theater. So many warnings were passing through his head that Shepard was momentarily dizzy from the amount of factors he needed to take into account here.

But that all passed when he took a long blink, breathed in and out, and focused on the things most important in his life.

He was Commander Shepard. He could handle this.

"Garrus," Shepard's eyes snapped open as steel crept into his voice.

"Yes, boss?" the turian leaped out from the Lynx, no sarcasm at all inhibiting his words. Garrus only called Shepard "boss" whenever he was looking to him for guidance, to be at his most deferential and most respectful. Truly, he was the best ally one could ask for.

"What are your odds on getting all these people to safety? This is probably going to get rather ugly."

Garrus took a quick glance behind him, taking into account the anti-PMC sentiment some of the more vocal participants were hollering at the top of their lungs. The crowd throbbed against the barrier of police keeping them at bay, eager to storm the building alongside their heroes.

"Not very good, I'd say," Garrus said honestly. "They're not going to want to leave. Not after seeing us here."

Shepard nodded, somewhat expecting such an answer. "And I'm not really sure that they'll evacuate even if we ask them nicely. No point in such an impossible task, Garrus. I'll only ask one last thing of you for today."

"What?"

"Look after Roahn."

Garrus had to suppress a sigh as he tried not to catch the glowing eyes of the frightened girl who had just now poked her head out from the cabin of the Lynx vehicle. "Shepard, you're not suggesting…"

The human then gave a jovial laugh, his face brightening for a split-second, which was the most intense swell of emotion Garrus had seen from the man in years. "You think I'm that pessimistic? No, my dear friend, I just want you to keep an eye on my family for the moment. Trust me, I have no plans on dying today."

"Spirits," Garrus wilted in blissful relief. "I thought that you were going to do something so stupid that you would get killed right at the outset. You don't get to do another suicide mission, you know."

"Come on, Garrus," Shepard mustered a tight smirk as he lifted his rifle at the same time. "You really think that I'm doing this all for myself?"

Leaving the turian no time to answer, Shepard whirled about on his heel, digging the armored soles of his boots onto the slick steps of the government building as he pushed off with his powerful legs and shot his way towards the doors. The Chimera troopers all shouted out in tandem as they saw the dark armored figure approaching in a charge, but they had already lost the element of control of this fight, even though they did not know it.

Shepard had the edge here.

"Dad!" he heard Roahn call out behind him, but he took that distraction, crumpled it up, and fed it to his determined soul.

She's the only thing that I have left worth fighting for.

All his doubts, his fears, and his worries had been stowed to a safe place in the back of his mind. His actions now were fulfilling a new purpose—the safety of not just his friends, but his beloved Roahn. He could only hope that after today, Roahn would be able to see that his love was not spun from idle words or by some flimsy strand of sentiment under the veneer of a familial bond. Today, he could finally prove that he was the father she had deserved all this time. He could keep his mistakes latched to his persona, bare them for all to see, but by god, he would make it known that his girl had a father that cared so deeply for her.

The immutable nature of heaven and earth would be summarily broken, their unyielding nature shown to be a farce as it would be proved that both ideals, no matter how steadfast, could be moved.

---

"Hey!" Miranda heard Jack yell out and she whirled to face the tattooed ex-convict. "Where the hell's he going?"

Jack had thrown out an arm pointing at something towards the front of the Reichstag, and Miranda tracked the direction of her cohort's finger to land her gaze upon the man in N7 armor sprinting up the steps on a direct course to the Chimera forces who were already laying down fire that popped through the air in crackling bursts. Even at this distance, Miranda could see the impressively armored man's shields fizzle and snap, continuing to hold despite the punishing onslaught directed at him.

"Shepard's taking them all on at once!" she yelled out, feeling that she had to state the obvious for those in the vicinity who had not been paying attention.

"Without us?" Jack reared her head back. "Fuck that!"

The inked biotic proceeded to vault over the edge of the Lynx she had still been perched on, a cool purple aura gently easing her down to the ground before she took off in pursuit of her commander, eager to bolster his rank. Her fists glowed with energy, pulsating with invisible forces that pushed all descending snowflakes away from her body. Ice upon the concrete ground melted wherever she stepped, letting loose quick bursts of steam.

Gawking for a brief moment, Miranda chewed her lip in admiration before she too followed Jack, but not before she made a curt gesture with her head towards Grunt and Kasumi, who had been watching her intently.

"Well?" was all she had to ask.

The three gripped their weapons of choice in their hands, their minds already made up. Gritting her teeth, Miranda led the little squad in storming the Chimera ranks as they nipped at Jack's heels, eager to get in on the action.

As much as Miranda hated to admit it, Jack did have a point. Sometimes, the only response for such a ludicrous situation was to simply declare, "Fuck that."

---

The analytical portion of Shepard's mind—which entailed all of his accumulated tactical knowledge he had compiled over his years of service—was overclocking itself as he set to work at storming the enemy's position right at the entrance of the Reichstag. The Chimera troopers had dumbly taken up postings with no cover in place right in front of the supporting pillars, content to simply plug away at Shepard in the hopes of downing him before he made it within range.

Shepard could not rightfully scoff at such tactics. After all, he was charging up a heavily defended front with no cover of his own to utilize. But he had his skills and the determination to back it up.

Muscles and tendons ached after spending so long without being utilized to their fullest extent, but Shepard was swimming in painkillers and his anti-rads to the point where he was nearly numb. Knowing how decisive today would be in defining the rest of his life, Shepard had taken no chances in any illness or atrophy setting upon him and potentially preventing him from achieving success. His lungs opened up and the pores on his skin flared, drinking in the chilling Berlin air. Any aches or pains he could effectively dispel now. The rest was up to him.

The Avenger rifle in his hands quickly rose to level with his right eye. Two bullets jumped from the barrel of the gun, both impacting squarely upon the head of the nearest Chimera trooper, causing it to explode and sending a burst of blood and brains to fountain upon the steps. The warmth of the blood seeped through the piles of snow, creating rivulets and depressions in a dark crimson color. Hot steam from the body wafted upward, creating wobbling ripples of distortion in the air.

With the first trooper's death having created an opening in the enemy's flank, Shepard used the occasion to sprint behind one of the pillars of the entrance, now facing perpendicular to the main entrance while the rest of the troopers continued to fire away at him. Bullets holes plugged the stone column, chipping it and sending vivid and sharp clouds of dust spraying in all directions. The crowd, some ways away, shrieked in response to the shooting, but most held their ground, incredibly awed even in the face of such extreme danger to their own lives.

Shepard made a gesture and a grenade jumped from the holster into his palm, called by electromagnets embedded in the gauntlet of the N7 armor. He primed the explosive and rolled it into the thin corridor between the building and the barrier of pillars—a thin space only three meters wide—an area in which one would be sheltered by the thick roof above before they could completely venture outside into the open space that the Tiergarten provided. Startled shouts erupted from the troopers, most likely stemming from the fact that there was the instinctive and hasty desire to evacuate the blast radius that the grenade threatened to disperse. If the troopers were at all smart, Shepard determined, then their next move would be to move outside, past the row of columns in order to avoid being torn to pieces by the grenade.

That would then give rise to his next move.

The grenade detonated with a punctual but focused whumpf! A void of pressure collapsed and then rapidly expanded in the wake of the device's explosion. A puff of flame wafted into view before it ran out of oxygen in less than a second, extinguishing itself with nary a trace. The detonation caused Shepard's ears to ring and throb painfully, but the sensation lasted for only a few seconds. Nearby windows in the vicinity wobbled before shattering completely, raining the walkways with vicious shards of glass.

The grenade had not injured anybody but it had succeeded in driving the troopers out of cover, which was what Shepard had been hoping for. He had switched the ammo in his gun over in the brief lull and proceeded to lean out from behind the pillar he had appropriated for himself, immediately seeking out a Chimera soldier stumbling around in the open.

A few singular shots rang out and the soldier shrieked as several blue-white bolts hit his legs. The bullets had light penetration so barely any blood spurted out from the wounds, but the infecting projectiles that lodged in the man's knees quickly activated and soon the cryo rounds completely encased the trooper's knees in solid lumps of ice, frozen from the inside out. The trooper dropped his weapon and wobbled back and forth, his balance all shot to hell. Desperate to make a soft landing, the man pitched forward in an attempt to steady himself onto his stomach, but his motions in tilting at such an angle were too great for the strain placed upon his weakened knees.

What happened next was visceral and horrifying to watch.

The cryo rounds had shattered bone, torn muscle, and severed nerves when they had hit the trooper at first. With his knees surrounded by blocky ice chunks, the effect was almost comical in its appearance, but the effect that cryo rounds exuded was that they flash-froze anything that was organic to the point where they were as brittle and as delicate as fine china. So when the unfortunate trooper tried to flop himself on the ground in his forward motion, the act of rocking in a ventral motion snapped his knees in half.

The cracking sound must have been audible from half a mile away.

The trooper started screaming before he hit the ground. Frozen bloody chunks of icy tissue spewed across the ground as the man's legs split at the knee, severing them, and leaving the trooper legless and flopping upon the ground in agony. No blood wept from the stumps of the limbs, for the affected areas had been so thoroughly frozen from the cryo rounds that it was impossible for the blood to melt in these conditions.

Shepard put the man out of his misery with a well-placed bullet to the head a few seconds later, sparing everyone the horror of having to endure such torturous noises.

Another soldier had recovered from the sight of seeing the violent end of his squad mate and embarked into a brazen charge in which blind theatrics was more responsible than valid tactics for this action. Shepard, seeing the man coming from a mile away, simply let loose a concussive blast that hit the charging trooper full on in the chest. Both the man's armor and ribcage caved in with a resounding snapping noise. There was no breath left for the trooper to cry out—he would eventually suffocate right there on the steps of the Reichstag from the multiple punctures to his lungs courtesy of the snapped ribs.

More soldiers were approaching from the north, leaping over the guardrails to make their way into the fray. Shepard's HUD was showing that this next batch of forces were sporting heavy-duty shield generators, so he quickly flipped a switch on his rifle, cycling the ammo into disruptor rounds. A few strategic shots barked from the gun and shattered the shields on the charging mass of bodies. Glowing red flashes of inferno rounds then chewed through the layers of armor adorning the men, melting it into their flesh and boiling them alive. The soldiers flailed and screamed as they burned, acrid smoke rising from their bodies as they collapsed onto the snowy ground—the frozen water hissed as it came into contact with the heated metal, producing a temporary boiling effect.

Pausing to reload for a moment, Shepard kept taking wayward glances back towards where his daughter was and alternately over towards the doors where more reinforcements were continually streaming out from the front. He readied himself to embark on another attack when, all of a sudden, there was a gleaming purple streak and a glowing hemisphere of energy began to emit in the center of a particularly large grouping of troops. The dome of biotic pressured folded inward, diminishing in size for a few seconds before it exploded in all directions. Electricity arced, the cobblestones flexed and warped, and the ground shook beneath Shepard's feet. Chimera soldiers were thrown in all directions, some being deposited a ways away down the steps, while others found their trajectory unceremoniously halted when they were flung into a wall or a pillar. Bones cracked, armor shattered, and many a foe went limp.

From the cynosure where the shockwave had emitted, Jack straightened up, muscles taut, tendons quivering, and she wiped her chin free of snow. The slender woman caught Shepard's eye and gave a quick wink, knowing that nothing else needed to be said. Shepard shot her a smirk in return, grateful for the assistance.

An engineer across the way was in the middle of deploying a turret, but concentrated biotic forces rallied around the man, lifting him up several feet off the ground before slamming down upon the hard surface, snapping his spine. Shepard looked in the direction of the attack to find Miranda coolly apply a warp field to another grouping of soldiers, her determined face set so hard that it might as well have been diamond.

Two more troopers jumped down from the roof, jump jets on their boots flaring to make a soft landing, but were quickly taken out by a few quick submachine gun bursts at close range to the back of their heads. Shepard had thought he had missed the source of the attack, as he had been in the middle of a blink, but he quickly was able to behold a brief shimmer that had emanated between the two soldiers right after they had been killed. The shimmer materialized into a cluster of static and the cloaking field dropped away from Kasumi, who then scampered away to let her tech recharge before she could mount another sneak attack.

At the same time, Grunt was having a ball on the upper side of the park that flanked the Reichstag entrance. The krogan had forgone utilizing a gun to take care of the foes in his way. Instead, he had his war hammer swinging away, clobbering enemy after enemy with the extraordinarily hardened stone that adorned the end of the hammer's thick staff. Body parts and pieces of armor plating sailed into the air as Grunt brought his hammer down again and again thanks to his near limitless supply of energy. The crowd, still watching rapturously, was desensitized to the overall violence present before their eyes, as they continued to cheer the krogan on (which had the effect of energizing Grunt even more) and they still proceeded to supply their heroes with their wordless praise, even after Grunt swung his hammer in a vicious arc and took a man's head off with the weapon.

Get inside, Shepard mentally drummed within his veil of thoughts. Larsen's inside.

A moment was spent for him to spare a valuable glance back towards where his comrades and family were still located. They were all still down near the Lynx, being more conservative in their approach to make it to his position. Shepard stutter-stepped between two of the building's pillars as he remained silhouetted against the cloudy sky. No matter what would happen in the next few minutes, he would be proud of every one of them.

It would do to have their loyalty be rewarded in the end.

---

In the ensuing chaos that had transpired in the last minute, everyone's attention had been so firmly fixated upon the mob of Chimera troopers that had been pouring out to engage in intense combat that either no one had been paying attention to what had happened to the Legionnaire after he had been hit by Grunt's Lynx. Another possible answer was that everyone had simply forgotten all about him, assuming that he had been dealt with.

Unfortunately, despite being run over by the same truck twice in the last hour already, the Legionnaire was nowhere close to being finished.

From below the undercarriage of the Lynx, the cyborg had to endure several system restarts after the last impact had completely scrambled his targeting protocols. Apparently he had been hit harder than his combat chassis could take, which was a tad concerning on his end. The Legionnaire was not one to run from a fight, though, and he immediately set to work powering up the hydraulics in his limbs as he mapped out an overlay of the battlefield in a wire-mesh 3D format within his HUD. Enemies showed up as red blips on his sensor, but one particular icon he marked as yellow.

Target number one. Commander Shepard.

Wrenching his head over to the side, all eight optics managed to pinpoint the human standing near the doorway of the Reichstag, moments from making it inside the building. A distorted shriek rose from the Legionnaire as his automated adrenaline dispensers pumped massive amounts of the chemical into his bloodstream. Everything took on a red haze for the Legionnaire and time seemed to distort at a glacial pace while his breathing remained eerily calm.

Pulling back his leg for a massive kick, the large front wheel of the Lynx sheared completely away from the vehicle and bounced several feet into the air as a result of the harsh force exhibited upon its central axis. The Lynx, now tireless on its front left side, wobbled and slightly leaned in that direction, raising the undercarriage upon the right, now allowing the Legionnaire a little more room to maneuver. The operative exploded from underneath the vehicle, his fingers punching holes in the smooth stones as he clawed his way out from there, death and destruction engraining themselves to his will.

His shields flickered as they detected incoming rifle fire from close range. He located the source: Vakarian and the other Alliance exemplars kneeling in strategic positions by their truck. Not wanting them around to distract him from his goal, the Legionnaire stood up and turned to tear the door off of the nearby Lynx. Thick steel squealed uncomfortably as it was bent out of shape, but it eventually could not take the stress and snapped to send the opening into the Legionnaire's hands.

The cyborg wound himself up and tossed the door like a frisbee. The turian and armored humans each gave a yelp as they dove for cover while the spinning door crashed into the side of their own truck milliseconds later, sending shards of safety glass tumbling down upon their heads. The distraction was all the massive agent needed, for any time not spent being engaged with Shepard would only compound the chance that his quarry would be able grow closer to achieving his own objectives. He sprinted up the steps, his large footprints shattering the ground as he stomped forward, the gap separating his prey becoming so much smaller at an alarming rate.

As he raced up towards Shepard, the Legionnaire threw his arms downward, bringing forth the nano-blades embedded within his wrists again. The long swords seemed to hum and quiver with an intransigent energy that occupied the very atoms of the hardened material. Heat and fire blistered from the weapons and the cold fled their presence in hissing bursts.

There was the distinct rush of freezing air before a vacuum quickly consumed it, giving Shepard the sole indication of the presence of danger. He managed to turn his head at the last second, giving him a fleeting moment to glimpse the Legionnaire onrushing him and he quickly ducked into a roll down a couple steps as the first nano-blade slashed just above his head.

The Legionnaire snarled as his feet skidded on the slippery ground, cursing his luck and his target as his first blow had proceeded to miss. Internally, the cyborg was wrestling with the programming blocks set up within his operational software—a theoretical blockade that was continually trying to seize control over his body processes that were all designed to set the Legionnaire solely on his objectives. Clearly the Legionnaire's attacks here were too brutal and were clashing with the "alive-only" orders Larsen had previously set up, but the cyborg had a trick up his sleeve. The operative, allocating some of his processing power to create a snippet of code at the same time he was fighting Shepard, managed to create a program that allowed him to temporarily override Larsen's restrictive command, despite the fact that he had to engage said override every five seconds automatically.

Wheeling around, the Legionnaire dug gouges into the ground as he made to deliver another attack. Shepard had righted himself back up, but had not fully regained his balance yet. As the operative bore down on him, Shepard could think of no other recourse, no other defense at the time, other than to throw up his rifle in a blocking maneuver and hope for the best.

The Legionnaire swung his arm down and the nano-blade crunched as it bit into the casing of the Avenger rifle. Heat bled from the cracks in the barrel and a jet of steam momentarily whistled from the breach. The stronger cyborg wrenched his body, ripping the ruined rifle out of Shepard's hands, leaving the human vulnerable to attack. With his the sword upon his other arm, the Legionnaire wasted no time in sweeping across, fanning his next blade out with the intention of cutting through armor and flesh.

Numb steel met a sizzling orange-red surface. Sparks shuttered and jumped, snapping and seething angrily as cold metal met fire.

The Legionnaire was not one to be caught off guard all that much, but he certainly was now as he beheld the long omni-sword that had quickly materialized out of thin air, strapped to the back of Shepard's wrist. The hard light surface fizzled as its reactive surface extenuated the forces the Legionnaire was exerting on Shepard's body and redirected them back in his direction, enabling Shepard to exhibit an astonishing strength of his own volition.

The omni-sword utilized mass effect fields and hardlight energies to create plates of razor-sharp, blistering hot surfaces of pure light that enabled zones of negative inertia upon striking these bright zones—essentially, anyone using one of these swords could stand up to attacks several times stronger than they would be able to handle and they could manage quite well with such a tool at their disposal.

The plating of his face illuminated by the savage sparks, the Legionnaire looked demonic in the wavering light. "You've upgraded," he growled at Shepard.

"Isn't this what you've wanted?" Shepard retorted through a tightened jaw.

"Not exactly," the Legionnaire gave a singular chuckle before jabbing with his free arm in an attempt to stab the human, but Shepard countered by disengaging from the lock and bringing his sword down, knocking the Legionnaire's weapon away with a distinct clang.

The two combatants slowly paced up the stairs as they beheld each other carefully, moving like wary lions about to pounce upon unsuspecting prey. Snow continued to build up around them as it cut across the air like knives, the impacts stinging Shepard's cheeks as the fragile droplets contrasted with his warm face.

"You'll find that what I want and what's expected of me are two different things," the Legionnaire replied carefully as he readied his own blades for another attack. "There are forces at work that you've been blissfully oblivious to for longer than you could imagine. The clock's nearly run out on us, Shepard. We all will have to face a reckoning sooner or later."

Confused by the cyborg's cryptic statements, Shepard gave a slow blink. "What do you mean? Larsen?"

"No. Larsen's just the symptom of a larger problem. The contagion has already infected the Alliance right down to the core. You might be surprised to discover that Larsen should be the least of your worries. Soon, you'll understand. In fact, there's—"

Unexpectedly, the Legionnaire retracted his right blade and whipped his arm down to his thigh, where a hidden compartment popped open to reveal the grip of a pistol. Nearly caught off guard by the sneaky maneuver, Shepard sidestepped just in time as the Legionnaire fired his weapon and the human swore he could feel the rocketing shocks of the miniature sonic boom the bullet left behind in its wake. His cheeks rippled from the impact and sour streaks seared themselves within his eyes.

The cyborg, furious at having missed again, made to adjust his aim, but Shepard had the upper hand this time. Forcing himself to move forward, the commander ducked and hurled his arm upward in a cutting motion—the pistol in the Legionnaire's hand then fell away in two pieces. The cyborg bellowed a multi-tiered note, one ostensibly of anger, and extended his rightmost blade yet again, but not before Shepard utilized the temporary opening to strike at the Legionnaire's unarmored flank. The human's omni-sword carved into the operative's knee, slicing through the thick armor as easily as butter and causing a few components to explode out of the exit wound as Shepard finished his strike. The Legionnaire pivoted to cut at Shepard again, but the human had swiftly gotten out of range in time to avoid the attack.

There was now a pronounced stagger to the Legionnaire's gait as pieces of his body continued to rain down upon the ground. The operative bellowed out and lifted his blades, eager to repay the favor in kind as he tried to disregard the damage done to his frame.

Shepard would have none of it. He skirted around the edge of the Legionnaire's striking zone, keeping the weight on the tips of his toes as he looked for an opening. The cyborg, evidentially becoming more and more frustrated with Shepard's tactics, hurled himself forward, all two tons of him, in an effort to spear the commander upon his pitch black swords.

Again, Shepard would sidestep the attack, and made a counter-maneuver of his own at the exact moment the Legionnaire shot on by. Expertly, Shepard angled his sword in a precise point and stabbed out, the tip of the omni-sword managing to penetrate the Legionnaire's upper arm, severing wires and puncturing one of the hydraulics. Once more the Legionnaire stumbled to a halt after completing his failed attack, his limp growing more heavily and his arm now becoming more sluggish.

"Impossible," the monster grunted out.

Shepard just stood his ground and offered the cyborg a tiny smirk as he angled his own blade into position.

Understandably enraged by the human's newfound confidence, the Legionnaire pushed his rage to the maximum as he increased the remaining hydraulic pressure in his limbs above the redline. His metal limbs now had enough force in them to dent the hull of a capital cruiser were the cyborg so inclined to showcase his abilities. Swords buzzing with activity, eager to taste blood, the Legionnaire raised his arms up and brought both of them down in a savage blow, the two blades whistling through the air as they carved through existence.

Shepard had to angle his weapon parallel to the ground to catch both of the Legionnaire's swords in the same strike, but the effort exerted by the machine painfully wrenched his arms downward. Before Shepard could cry out in pain, one of the Legionnaire's blades edged towards the human's face, slicing him open just above his eye, near his hairline.

A searing slash simmered across Shepard's skin. The cut momentarily felt like the surface of the sun, blistering in this frozen purgatory.

The commander shoved back and disengaged, using his free hand to wipe his face agonizingly. The cut was not bad, he tentatively determined. It was deep, but the blade had not seemed to have hit anything of importance. However, due to the face possessing so many blood vessels, Shepard found that the right side of his face quickly became coated in a thick and sticky red film of his own fluids, dribbling down his eyes and cheeks to drip off his chin. In an instant, Shepard looked like a creature borne from hell himself and he spat furiously to clear his mouth.

At this point, it seemed that the Legionnaire was expecting Shepard to make a taunt of sorts, to try and psychologically influence his opponent that he perhaps needed to try a little harder with his next attack. That was not the case. Shepard unleashed a scream of his own and charged the cyborg, a whirling dervish with his sword.

Dumbfounded, the Legionnaire merely stared for a whole second before Shepard's sword hit him full on in the face. The blow did not disable the operative, but it made him even more fighting mad. His faceplate now cracked and smoking, the Legionnaire engaged a predetermined sword fighting program, hoping to tire out the commander so that he could land a disfiguring strike upon the human. It did not work, as Shepard blocked every strike that was sent his way, with each impact producing fearsome ripples that threatened to rip strands of matter apart.

In the middle of another lock the two became engaged in as their blades clashed together, the Legionnaire growled, light streaming through the cracks in his faceplate.

"Killing me won't stop the horrors that await you, Shepard."

"It will certainly make me feel a lot better," the human gritted out.

Extending his left palm, the one without a weapon, Shepard's omni-tool flared to life as the haptic explosives flickered into existence into its hemisphere shape. The Legionnaire realized too late that this was the exact same maneuver that Shepard had used against him on Rannoch, but by then, Shepard had pressed forward and touched the explosive to the cyborg's chest.

There was a distinct blast and a fierce hammer-blow of pressure shook the very earth. A kiloton of force was sent spiraling out of Shepard's tool and directly into the Legionnaire's chassis. Rendered momentarily weightless, the Legionnaire was helpless to do anything as the force of the blast sent him flying through the air, directly into the double doors of the Reichstag.

The cyborg burst through the heavy glass doors with ease, showering the ground with thick shards of glass. Snow blew in from outside, soaking the marble tiles and turning them slippery. The Legionnaire skidded for several meters upon his back as bits of metal frame and glass tumbled along with him. He came to an unexpected stop as he impacted heavily with the plinth of a towering copper statue that depicted one of Germany's kings. The stone base ended up being cracked as his head knocked against it.

Realizing where he was, the Legionnaire stared up at the ceiling as he began to laugh. The laugh turned sinister very quickly as the foyer echoed with the dark peals emanating from the artificial voice box. The cyborg still lay upon the floor, roaring his exuberance, as his fists clenched together in triumph.

Drawn by the laughter, Shepard's shadow momentarily was outlined as he slowly strode into the building, omni-sword at the ready, snow crackling as it lazily drifted upon the scorching hot tool.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Shepard's gravelly voice intoned.

Still chuckling madly, the Legionnaire righted himself and tensed his limbs as he stood back up. Two of his eight optics had now darkened, damaged sometime during the attack, making his malevolent stare all the more apocalyptic and threatening.

"Sometimes a fortuitous line is tossed our way," the Legionnaire rasped. "My programming would not allow me to kill you unless I fulfilled my objective—bringing you to Larsen's location. Now… you are here, in his proximity. Now the restrictions have been lifted. Now there is nothing holding me back."

The nano-blades were drawn up to cross in front of the Legionnaire's face, a tiny clang emitting as the two pieces of refined metal lightly touched against one another.

"Now…" the monster whispered, "we can face our destinies together."

---

The gunfire filled the air as more and more Chimera troops descended upon the senate building. Trucks began piling up upon the access roads as there was now a blockage to even make it to the front doors. Mantis gunships swirled around overhead, not utilizing their large cannons just yet, as there were still far too many civilians in the area for them to be safely utilized.

On the ground, the Normandy crew fired in all directions while being judicious enough to avoid collateral damage as best as possible. The crackle of the discharge of weapons dissolved into a continuous cacophony, one that emitted the burning sensation of backfire mixed with the pungent tang of cordite.

Roahn, having sheltered herself within the Lynx for this whole time, finally jumped down from the main cabin, nearly falling to her hands as she stumbled for balance. A stray bullet deflected off one of the truck's armored panels an inch where Roahn's head was, causing her to whip around in surprise. The girl then staggered against the side of the truck as she made her way to Garrus, who was peeking out intermittently to take potshots at enemy troopers who dared to venture too close.

"Garrus!" Roahn had to shriek above the din. "Where's my dad?!"

"Roahn, what are you doing?!" the turian hollered back after performing a double-take. "Get back inside where it's safe!"

To hammer this point home, Garrus had to duck as a smattering of bullets sheared off part of the Lynx's taillight—a brief smash followed by the soft tinkling of red glass upon the ground.

On the other hand, getting back into the Lynx was not an option as another errant burst strafed overhead to blow out the protective windshield of the front cabin. Roahn and Garrus simply stared as the last vestige of cover was shredded to bits.

"Where is he?!" the girl screamed after a nearby grenade detonated.

Having seen that Roahn was not to be deterred, judging from the fact that she was still crouched down next to him, Garrus tilted his head up towards the steps and through the smashed doors of the Reichstag. "He went inside the building," he said tiredly. "I think he managed to get behind the enemy lines."

"Alone?!"

"Roahn, it's fine. Your father can—"

"No!" Roahn was aghast. "No! He can't face that creature… that Legionnaire… alone! He needs you! He needs… someone."

Wheeling about, Roahn's eyes enlarged in a panic as she beheld the broken entrance to the building, seemingly miles away. She seemed so tiny in the wake of such impassive violence. So helpless and impotent. Almost like nothing she could do would matter in the slightest.

"Someone…"

The word tumbled from Roahn's lips.

Then, without hesitation and any warning, the tiny quarian girl tore past the barricade, past where Javik, Kaidan, and the others had set up positions, and up the shallow steps to rocket up towards the entrance of the Reichstag. She ignored the bullets racing over her head, the cries of the crowd as they got a glimpse of the girl running alone by herself, and the pleads from her heroes as she grew ever closer to the intimidating and dark opening.

"Roahn!" Garrus and Liara screamed at the same time.

Her fear having been purged completely from her body, the quarian ignored them.

---

Shepard was not doing all that well.

Everything had descended into chaos and disaster ever since he had set foot into the Reichstag. The interior of the building had been pristine in polished government-centric and light-colored stonework, but the resulting scuffle had subsequently marred much of the furniture and trappings that had previously adorned the spotless room. Shepard had been on the defensive for most of the time in this place as he had furiously made to avoid the attacks sent his way by the Legionnaire, compounding the amount of damage that the poor foyer incurred from the residency of their fight.

The cyborg had been alternating going after the commander with his swords, cleaving a few sofas in two as they embarked in a game of cat-and-mouse around the lobby, and drawing forth a miniature grenade launcher so that he could lob explosives in the hopes of catching the human in a blast zone. The grenades were slow and easily avoided—Shepard found that as long as he kept moving, he could be relatively safe. The foyer was not the recipient of such courtesy. One of the errant grenades had met the statue of the Germanic king in the middle of the room, blowing the entire bust off the stand and leaving just an empty pillar standing in the midst of the fighting.

The Legionnaire had to take a moment to reload the grenade launcher and this was when Shepard made his first offensive maneuver. Lighting his omni-sword once more, Shepard sprinted from around the ruined base of the statue and cleaved the launcher in half with the blade—the weapon fell to pieces right in the Legionnaire's hands.

Annoyed at the loss of yet another weapon to the human, the Legionnaire snarled as he savagely dove forward and embarked in a bitter clash of blades with the man. Shouts from inside the building were now becoming more apparent as government workers and aides seemed to grow more aware that a fierce fight was brewing inside the Reichstag. Evacuation alarms were resounding off the walls, a piercing wail that nearly made Shepard wince from its sheer volume.

The combatants entered a temporary retreat after coming out of a brief lock. Their swords brushed the tile ground, scraping off splinters of the rock floor as they circled each other like hawks. Shepard was panting, sweat and blood dripping from his face. He saved his energy as best as he could, not devoting any of it into talking.

The Legionnaire was not unscathed either. Missing armor in sensitive areas and dealing with a damaged face plate, not to mention the fact that a few of his optic clusters were malfunctioning, the operative was keenly aware of his own mortality as he edged towards the human. Shepard backed up against the empty statue base, setting a hand resting upon it behind him, perhaps for reassurance.

"Close," the cyborg grunted as he raised his right arm. "But not close enough."

Punctuating this last word was a lingering grimace coupled with the blasting movement of the Legionnaire's lunge. Shepard, his eyes having been locked onto the tip of the incoming sword, sidestepped out of the way at the last moment. There was a heart-stopping second of total silence and the Legionnaire's nano-blade crunched as it embedded itself halfway into the marble base. Thick cracks jutted out from the impact site, threatening to crumble the entire pillar to rubble.

Knowing he had only scant seconds to react, Shepard brought his whole weight down into his next blow, which struck the Legionnaire's wrist. The kinetic force bent the cyborg's arm at the elbow, not powerful enough to sever it, but the flexing energies were enough that the Legionnaire's stuck sword broke off at the wrist, leaving the remaining point lodged in the stone bust.

The shattered blade point waggled tauntingly as it stayed embedded where it had been shunted in the marble.

"Try again," Shepard spat as the Legionnaire snarled at the sudden disassembly. Sharp and jagged edges marred the break site where the sword had cracked off of the operative's chassis.

"If you insist."

There was no room for Shepard to react. The Legionnaire abruptly made a slashing motion with his left arm, the one that still had a blade attached, and Shepard could only stare dumbly as he saw a dark blur head right for his face.

He blinked.

White-hot pain exploded in his eyes as a thin cutting sensation trickled across his vision. Shepard cried out and staggered away instinctively, throwing up his hands to cover his face as a needle of agony inserted itself precisely upon his right eye. The pain was so acute that Shepard had the alarming notion that he might throw up. He moaned pitifully as he frantically tried to flutter his eyes, but everything was a dim blur in his vision, refusing to focus while the entire room remained frustratingly dim.

Everything wobbled. The spins started to hit Shepard. He felt dizzy. More blood gushed from his face and Shepard fell to a knee. His throat became ragged as his breath now came in lingering gasps. The fingers that were still plastered to his face were now slick with blood, slippery and soaked.

The pain briefly retreated and localized itself enough that Shepard was able to pry open his left eye as far as it could. Still his right side remained a blank spot. Desperate to regain his senses back, Shepard forcefully tried to blink his right eye as fast as he could, but that only drew forth a fresh slew of torturous suffering and repeated stabs that felt like something was burrowing through his socket straight to his cortex.

No… Shepard finally realized. No…

The pain would not subside. His vision, he now knew, would be forever damaged from that blow.

His right eye had been put out. He had been partially blinded.

This was confirmed when Shepard finally peeled his hands away and the remainder of his vision failed to seep back into his senses. His brain could only register a void—a permanent blind spot—that was merely a memory of what his eye had been able to see before. Blood and gore stained the tiles at his feet. Shepard felt faint.

Footfalls of something large heading his way dimly registered in the recesses of his mind, but Shepard no longer seemed to care. He knelt on the floor, sapped, too badly hurt to continue. The frenetic thrusts that materialized in his head as spikes through the membrane that separated his eye from his brain poked long and hard. It felt like someone had driven a wickedly sharp knife through his head.

My eye. My eye.

"I thought you would have put up more of a fight," he heard the cruel voice of the Legionnaire enter his head, the voice growing close as the source approached.

The operative crept forward, blade angled downward as he prepared to plunge it into Shepard's neck.

"An ignominious end for the storied commander," the cyborg hissed. "But find comfort in the fact that I would have done the same to anyone else. If someone would come between my fate as you did, I would destroy them without hesitation. Despite everything that transpired before, no one else could do a better job as you. Your quick death will be a token of my respect."

"Chatika!" a shrill voice screamed from the entrance.

A bolt of lightning split the very fabric of time.

The Legionnaire roared as several thousand volts of electricity suddenly zapped into his frame, causing his optics to flicker and his voice to distort. Trickles of pure-white energy streamed across the operative's form, scything like tentacles, billowing in sheets. The cyborg's entire body arched in pain, his fingers twitching helplessly before the sensation dropped away. He fell to the floor, same as Shepard, but his breathing was coming in tatters as he turned to witness what had happened.

"It… it can't be…" the Legionnaire uttered in shock.

A multi-layered aureate drone of violet and aqua hues hovered above the ground just behind the cyborg. Shifting plates envisioned a spherical shape as the combat drone crackled with power, readying itself to deliver the next salvo.

Behind the drone, omni-tool at the ready, was… a girl.

Not just any girl.

Roahn.

"G-Get…" the girl trembled, her voice betraying her fear but she swallowed it down at the last second, "get away… f-from m-my dad."

Exhaling in a hissing burst, the Legionnaire merely leveled his oculi at Roahn, a visual cue akin to baring one's teeth. The drone, a gift to Roahn from her mother—so named Chatika vas Paus—seemed to sense the danger about to boil over and edged a foot or two away from the target it had just attacked.

The Legionnaire raised a fist and sent it straight down in a hammer blow, crushing the drone between it and the floor. Chatika emitted a tiny cry before the stress was too much and she dematerialized with a burst of static and a few blinks. The cyborg's fist, no longer held up, then smashed into the floor, crushing rock and metal with sheer brute force.

"Ah, the daughter," the Legionnaire's voice beckoned cruelly as he got back to his feet, ignoring Shepard behind him. "The gap in the profile. Different, but so very similar. Reckless, just like your father."

"I'm more like him than you realize!" Roahn shouted as she engaged another control on her tool.

The girl's scanning tool blared to life and she angled her palm directly towards the cyborg's face. An invisible gamut of microwaves once more spat forth and crashed into the sensitive cluster of electronics within the Legionnaire. The operative's blood ran cold as he now realized the true source of this unique agony, having felt it twice before. Even as the feedback sent critical electrical errors spiraling towards his brain in jagged bursts, tearing at the tissues and flesh encased in the metal shell, there was still a part of him that could see clearly, that could behold the danger through the myopia.

Everything on the Legionnaire was erratically locking up, producing a myriad of violations translating into software codes that popped up in his HUD. His vision was slowly becoming ruined the more the microwaves messed with his system.

He did not scream. He did not cry out.

Instead, the Legionnaire mustered an excruciating step, fighting past the blindness, the deafness, and the urge for his digestive system to purge its entire contents. It was not real, the Legionnaire reasoned. This was not to be his destiny.

The cyborg scraped forward another punished step, his vocabulator now producing animal-like howls as the adrenaline canisters within his skull dumped their essence within his bloodstream, dulling the pain and allowing him to push himself farther than he had ever been pushed before.

"He was responsible for your mother's death," the cyborg croaked as he appeared to shake the effects of the scanner off. "An irresponsible impediment to your childhood. You don't even share a blood connection with him. What loyalty could you possibly have to such a hindrance?"

"I don't care," Roahn grimaced seconds before she pummeled the scanner function again, her confidence rising. "He's still my father."

Reacting to the fresh burst of microwaves, the Legionnaire jerked rapidly in place, almost like an electric current was running through him when the drone had previously unleashed its attack upon him. The effect was not as long-lasting and soon the cyborg stumbled forward, his punished lungs rasping as they shriveled up from the painful stimulus.

"You will always be his mistake," the monster chortled as he plodded closer to Roahn, his claw-like arms now outstretched. "He would impart his sins unto you. You must realize this."

"You're wrong," Roahn shouted as she waited for her tool to recharge, alternating with frantic glances down before the meter filled up to full. "He made sure that I understood him!"

"A fatal error. Your comprehension will amount to nothing."

"The error isn't mine," Roahn seethed as her tool finally blinked in readiness. "Now… go to HELL!"

The quarian's finger zoomed down towards the fateful button, intent on stopping the vile creature in his tracks for good. Only, in the barest instant before Roahn could touch the control, the Legionnaire swiped his hand out, his metal appendages curling over Roahn's forearm before he abruptly pulled his limb back, taking the girl's omni-tool with him without causing so much as a scratch upon the girl.

"No!" Roahn cried as she felt the device being pulled off her wrist.

The Legionnaire dangled the tool tauntingly between two scratched fingers before he carelessly crumpled it up and discarded it behind him like a piece of litter. The omni-tool crunched pathetically as it died and emitted a scant couple of pure magnesium-white sparks as the electronic innards scraped against one another in its death throes.

"If you so wish to be like your father," the cyborg said as he angled his remaining blade ever so slightly while he backed the terrified Roahn into a corner, looking to pierce the terrified girl's chest, "then I will oblige."

Hell could not contain the malice that so flowed like water from the infinite well of the Legionnaire. Fire seemed to rain down from above, all contained within that frozen but pure expression that the metallic plates had molded themselves in. A faint wisp of snow, carried in from the shattered doorway, blew in a faint gust overhead, spiraling in the still air.

The beast then struck.

Only to be stopped in place as a sphere of cerulean élan vital closed itself over the Legionnaire's fist, halting the trajectory of the obsidian blade just inches from Roahn's suit.

"What?!" the cyborg bellowed, stunned at the interruption as he found himself unable to move his entire arm.

From near the doorway, snow hurled in soaking sheets around the figure who had their arms splayed out, faint tendrils of energy seeking their targets as they held the biotic field open for as long as they could.

"Not if we oblige first!" Liara shouted triumphantly, a nimbus wisp rimming around her form.

Staring daggers at the asari, the Legionnaire shook with an indignant anger. "You… little cun—"

A concussive burst then rocketed onto the scene, smashing into the cyborg's face while, at the same time, Liara released the biotic field, allowing the Legionnaire to be thrown to the ground with a deafening crash.

"The kid's with us, thanks!" Garrus called out as he stepped up behind Liara, his rifle smoking after it had thrown out the heavy projectile.

The Legionnaire groaned as he struggled to get to his feet, but the arrival of a heavy individual, judging by the audible cues and from the vibrations upon the ground, prevented the damaged operative from recovering fully, as an enormous blow from an elephantine war hammer clobbered itself upon the small of the Legionnaire's back, plastering the cyborg down to the ground again with a fearsome clangor.

Standing overhead, Grunt bent his elbows as he prepared to deliver another fearsome salvo with the hammer clenched tightly in his hands. A grimace graced the krogan's jaw as he bared his teeth, all amusement having fled the vicinity. "You killed my overlord. Now I'll kill you."

"How… utterly… original," the Legionnaire spat moments before the next hammer strike collided with the back of his head, causing his forehead to rebound off the tile floor, which cracked from the strain of the force.

Glass crackled and liquid dribbled as pieces of the Legionnaire's faceplate fell from his helmeted head. The cyborg was starting to babble incoherently as half of his optics were now winking on and off in random intervals, either cracked or damaged beyond repair. The enraged krogan, now possessing the intense desire to rip something apart with his bare hands, tossed aside the war hammer and bodily picked up the Legionnaire by the bent armor plating upon his back. The Legionnaire could do nothing but observe the next course of action as Grunt hurled him forward like a battering ram face-first into the marble stand, slamming him full-on into the stone surface.

More metal and glass sheared away as the Legionnaire's face became completely distorted beyond its original proportions. The side of the cyborg's helmet had been wrenched severely to the side, exposing the bloody bone and tissue beyond the safety of its original partition. The Legionnaire belched smoke, spat flames, and emitted electric bolts as multiple body processes shut themselves down as a result of the damage, one after the other. Embers brimming with light exhaled from the air filters near the Legionnaire's collar, expelling warm and dust.

"Get… off…" the Legionnaire wheezed.

Grunt was not at all finished with toying around with his enemy, but the cybernetic operative managed to recover enough functionality to roll on his side and expel a concussive burst of his own from a hidden slot in his forearm. The krogan gave a yowl as the projectile propelled directly into his gut, but the force of the blast only deposited Grunt a few feet away, not at all performing any permanent damage. It did tumble the alien end over end for a couple of seconds, temporarily dispatching him.

As the Legionnaire staggered once more to his feet, a warp field then beset itself upon him, scorching at his armor and cracking the sensitive polymers housed within. Jack, Kaidan, and Miranda had leapt beside Liara, the four now combining their strength to create a containment field that not even an individual as powerful as the Legionnaire could escape from. Writhing and screaming from within his prison, the operative spasmed as the crushing forces imparted themselves upon his frame, bending and twisting everything completely out of shape.

Incoming gunfire then seared its way past the biotic field, going inside it to merge with the being trapped within. Garrus, Kasumi, James, and Javik had all levelled their rifles and set them to full automatic, creating a never-ending turbulent clamor that threatened to shake the very foundations of the Reichstag down to the ground. Incendiary rounds, armor-piercing rounds, and disruptor rounds all sailed in a fan of destruction, billowing past the semi-tangible field to impact with the Legionnaire, causing eruptions to emit all across the cyborg's body.

"Hold, everyone!" Liara screamed as sweat dribbled down her face, her limbs struggling to keep the field around the Legionnaire contained. "Just… a little longer!"

Locked in on their adversary, the soldiers keeping up the continuous fire opened their mouths in soundless roars, drowned out by the bellows their own weapons emitted.

Liara strained.

Jack cursed.

Kaidan growled.

Miranda grunted.

Garrus tensed.

The rippling dome of the warp field swirled, bulged, and sizzled with energy. The cold violet color of the biotic aura rapidly warmed and turned a wine-like rose. The cloudy light turned to dust and then appeared to condense into a liquid, flowing freely over the hemisphere that contained the powerful foe. A distant whine rose in pitch, slowly building in intensity. Scintilla and ash collided in a cosmic firestorm, spewing all manner of effervescent and discernable light.

Liara felt something in her nose let go and the asari suddenly found the front of her face drenched with blood. Daring to crack her eyes open, she saw that the rest of her friends holding the field up with her were also bleeding from their noses, the pressure from the effort too great for their bodies to handle.

"Hold…" she whispered. "Hold… please…"

Kasumi breathed.

James howled.

Javik spat.

Roahn beheld.

The monolithic and nearly Brobdignagian energies all consolidating upon that singular point seemed to bubble, simmer, and finally implode for a nanosecond. The resulting forces from the biotics and the bullets winked out in an instant and the entire room, in the next moment, turned topsy-turvy as a seismic pulse rippled unexpectedly through existence, throwing everyone in the room off their feet.

The floor broke in circular folds. Waves of compression pummeled their way through rock, flesh, and bone. A gigantic and invisible hand comprised of pressure took everyone in turn and hurled them in all directions, flying away from the nexus where the Legionnaire was.

Eerie rings replaced the noises in their heads. Smoke and dust mingled with the snow from outside. Strobing flashes burned their way over everyone's vision. Deaf, dumb, and blind, they groped for tangibility, for some semblance of reality.

Gasping in relief, the Legionnaire finally straightened from kneeling upon the floor now that the biotic filed had dropped, his shattered and smoking body still vibrating from the pulse he had deployed as his last result. Dark fluids wept from several cracks in his armor. A fire had erupted in the mechanism of his right shoulder, sending thick sparks to drool over the sopping wet ground. The monster swept his gaze over the temporarily disabled Normandy crew, knowing that the seismic pulse his frame contained was not effective enough to kill, merely to disable. Still, he took pride in the sight, knowing that he had gone against the famous crew of the fabled warship… and had won.

"A… pitiful failure," the Legionnaire murmured morosely, disappointed at the efforts presented.

Limping in a tentative stumble, there was the distinct moment of muteness that accompanied the upheaval of the anticipated status quo that the Legionnaire failed to observe until it was too late.

He felt something impact him upon his back.

The cyborg then screamed out as there was the sound of metal being punctured and he gave a fierce jerk forward. A sharp pressure had been willed into existence in the lower reaches of his body and the Legionnaire looked down to find the tip of the nano-blade—the one that had broken off in the beginnings of the fight—was now sticking straight through where his stomach was nestled within its gut sac.

He had been impaled with his own weapon.

"Was it?" he heard Shepard's voice cry out triumphantly.

Now the Legionnaire understood. What remained of his oculi zoned right in on where he had seen his wayward blade last—embedded in the plinth while fighting with the commander. That blade was now absent from its perch—no longer was it stuck there as just an empty hole remained, black and rimmed with cracks. Shepard must have pulled it out in the chaos of the moment.

Something felt like it had ruptured within the Legionnaire and he turned his attention back down to where the tip of his sword was protruding from his abdomen. Thick and clear fluid, along with blood, coursed down his waist and splattered at his feet. The artificial sac that held his guts had undoubtedly been punctured. His organs had been ruined.

But it had not been a killing blow. Turning back around, the Legionnaire saw the exhausted Shepard, hunched over with blood pouring from his ruined eye socket, panting through gritted teeth. The impaled cyborg appraised the wound dealt to him, not knowing whether to respond with admiration or sheer indigence.

"You actually did come the closest out of anyone," the Legionnaire carefully stated.

Wiping the blood from his face as best he could, Shepard's furious expression did not change. "I'm not done with you yet."

The cyborg gave a rough scoff. "Even with my back turned, you couldn't finish me properly. Am I never to find someone who is my superior? No… my fate has to be tied to you, Shepard. There can be no one else. Perhaps I just haven't found the proper motivation for you yet!"

Before anyone could stop him, the Legionnaire abruptly turned to pluck an object that had been hiding behind a nearby staircase. Screaming in terror, Roahn was lifted into view as the Legionnaire's damaged fingers gripped her by her sehni, dangling her over the ground as her legs kicked out in every direction.

"No!" Shepard screamed as he feebly held out a hand, impotent in the face of evil. "Don't you fucking touch her!"

"Dad!" Roahn cried out as she tried to squirm her way out from the cyborg's grasp, to no avail.

Shepard roared out in horror again, but he was weaponless. Unarmed. Even the omni-sword he had used in his fight was now malfunctioning, unreliable at the worst possible moment.

Roahn… in the talons of the most nefarious form evil had chosen to inhibit. It was too much. Shepard was paralyzed. Catatonic in the face of such cruelty. The girl continued to howl as she beat fruitlessly on the hand gripping her ceremonial fabric so tightly that bits of the sewed loops were beginning to fray.

Not my daughter. Anyone but her. I can't lose her too.

"This is the way it was always meant to be!" the Legionnaire bellowed as he clambered up onto the empty base that had previously held the bronze statue of the Germanic king. Standing atop the platform, the metal machine became statuesque in his own right, imposing and intimidating as he held the girl in his grip. The empty sockets of the skull that could be glimpsed beyond the veil of the shattered faceplate held no empathy, no life. Just cold intention and determination.

Shepard nearly fell to his knees as he held his hands aloft. "Don't hurt the girl. Don't hurt her!"

"Don't hurt her? There's only way to prevent that. You need to finish what you've started, Shepard!" the Legionnaire shot back, his voice taking on a thick reverberation within the cavernous room. "You need to kill me or I will kill your child. I won't be able to stop otherwise. You know this."

"Don't do it. Please."

The Legionnaire appeared to thrum with pleasure as he now held up his blade close to Roahn's throat. "You can only beg. I have you like this and your only thought is to beg. For her life. So, Shepard, what will you do now? You are alone. Pitiful and small. Will you merely give up? Try, human. Try and save your only child."

The indignation! Holding a blade to a child! Venom choked Shepard so hard that he nearly hurled out of grief. But without a weapon and his team temporarily indisposed… how could he stop this thing?

"I…" Shepard meekly shook his head. "I…"

"Try!"

Roahn, who had been struggling the entire time, suddenly slackened as her eyes relaxed into a peaceful formation. Almost in a dream-like state, she turned her head and mustered the bravest sort of courage she had ever conjured in her life.

"Dad," her calm voice floated out.

"Roahn," the father whispered.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Shepard was about to ask, but his eyes caught a flash of movement and he stilled himself so tightly that the act of drawing breath caused him great pain. Even under this moment of duress, Roahn stopped grabbing at the Legionnaire's hand holding her by her sehni several feet above the ground and slowly drifted them down towards her waist…

…where the pistol that her father had given her still hung.

With a nearly inaudible snap, the girl withdrew the gun and, quick as a flash, raised her arm up so fast that even the Legionnaire did not have time to witness the act. All the cyborg could observe was the circular chasm of the pistol barrel edging itself towards his face, the maw bearing down on him with grim pleasure.

Then Roahn pulled the trigger.

The gun gave a pop.

Blood and bone erupted in a spray from the Legionnaire's head, a searing-hot jet that arced away from the exit wound, shattered into reality from the tiny bullet. Gears twitched and the cyborg's fingers sprang open on instinct, releasing the girl, but Roahn's sehni was caught between some of the closed plates and the fabric could not take the stress anymore. With a loud ripping noise, the sehni tore itself to tatters, the pieces of the cloth sheared into the wind as Roahn, her dull gold helmet now starkly exposed, was sent into a tumbling fall, freed from the Legionnaire to now become a prisoner of gravity's embrace.

The girl gave a cry as she flailed about, but the moment of savage free-fall lasted less than a second, for a distinct crystal-blue aura shone about her, catching her descent and carrying her aloft a meter above the hard floor. Liara, recovered from the effects of the Legionnaire's pulse, had raised herself from the ground and had emitted a careful biotic field at the last moment, preventing Roahn from falling the complete distance and breaking any bones from such a height.

Garrus then sprinted forward through the snow and smoke, and caught the slowly descending girl, embarking into a brief roll that ended with Roahn being cradled against the turian's armored chest, both well away from harm.

"Got you!" Garrus whispered to the child.

The Legionnaire, miraculously still alive, wobbled on his legs before finally tumbling to earth. There was no one to catch him. Two meters of straight falling and the cyborg smashed to the ground with a powerful shockwave. More and more pieces cracked off the chassis as the operative was finally damaged beyond repair. Stone, glass, and metal sprayed across the floor around the Legionnaire's body. Blood continued to seep from his wounds, and even a distinct piece of bone tumbled out from within the helmet—a remnant of the skull sheltered by the armor.

While the operative tried with all his might to straighten up, to push past the crippling disabilities inflicted upon him, Shepard was there to beat him to the punch as he now stood in front of the cyborg, ready to tear the thing apart piece by piece if he had to.

But Grunt would offer something else to utilize. "Shepard, here!" the krogan shouted as he tossed the human his war hammer from the far end of the foyer.

Fueled by the massive throw, the dull stone nestled atop the staff of the hammer dimly glinted in the low light as it sailed through the air. It tumbled end over end across the room for it to be caught perfectly in Shepard's hands. The human immediately hefted the weapon as he took a large stride over to the Legionnaire, who was just starting to sit up where he knelt.

"Now it's finished," Shepard uttered before he swung the hammer down in a final cry.

His enemy met his fate unblinking.

The Legionnaire's head disappeared in an explosion of blood and metal. Gore squirted out from between the hammer's stone and the remnants of the cyborg's body. The entirety of the Legionnaire's skull and brains were crushed to a paste, leaving a headless corpse teetering upright all by itself. Alloys made wrenching sounds as the internal mechanisms of the chassis finally quieted, leaving only the incidental noises to fill the remainder of the air.

The hammer still lodged into the neck, the body of the Legionnaire toppled over, forever still.

The room finally fell silent. Even the sounds from outside had dampened down to a near trickle.

Shepard's knees wobbled and he collapsed onto the ground with a heavy sigh. Nearby, Roahn wrenched herself away from Garrus and ran over to her father. Her hands gently wrapped around Shepard's shoulders as she tried not to look at his empty eye socket, darkened with blood, that now seemed to suck in her attention like a black hole.

"I'm okay," Shepard breathed as he tenderly embraced his daughter, squeezing his eye shut so tightly that tears trickled out to leave rivulets through the blood that splattered his face. "I'm okay."

Shepard hardly noticed that Roahn's sehni had been complete destroyed, ripped to pieces. The little quarian did look rather forlorn without the cloth adorning her helmet, the tubing and wiring that linked up at the back of her covering now sitting completely exposed, but the swelling relief that burgeoned from that child's heart outdid any of the damage done unto her. She was alive. She was safe.

Fatigued, shell-shocked, and completely frazzled, Roahn's hug tightened uncontrollably as she could only muster a single sob as she held onto her father. The human could feel the little body of his girl tremble so heavily that she was nearly going into spasms. All this fear, he realized, had been his doing. To quell her nerves, Shepard returned the intensity of his embrace, silently crying not out of pain, but for the love he had for his daughter.

For the next minute, they held each other in the total silence.

---

Eventually, the inhabitants of the Reichstag, no doubt alarmed by the chaos that had occurred in the front lobby of the building, eventually and tentatively peeked out of whatever room they had chosen to take cover in and slowly approached the scene. Businessmen in suits. Government officials with briefcases. All looked equally shocked and appalled. Their confusion was compounded even more when they noticed that one of the sources of the commotion had been Commander Shepard himself. After all, the man had not been seen on Earth in years.

Ordinarily such a horrifying arena would no doubt be the source of many sensational newsworthy articles for weeks to come, but rather quickly, everyone in the building and the rest of the world found another surprise in the wings, waiting to catch them off guard.

On cue, the omni-tools upon every single living person in the building, from all over and far away, chimed as they received a modestly-sized audio file. It was designated as a file of extreme importance, denoting specific individuals and its overall message in the contents of the document. A few curious souls opened the file immediately. They did not mute the sound.

"…ever since I helped award them the Alliance contract, their involvement is now cemented with this kind of legitimacy in their actions. Koenig just runs the day-to-day operations, but I'm the one who actually mandates where Chimera gets to go."

For the hundreds of people who had been assigned to work in the Reichstag, it was highly unlikely that none of them would not be able to recognize the voice of perhaps the most powerful senator in the Alliance today. A chill fell over the air as recognition seeped into the minds of the many, and there was a distinct sensation of darkness floating over the whole affair, almost like someone had thrown a wet blanket over the whole sorry business.

The voice of Raynor Larsen continued unimpeded, oblivious to the growing animosity. "In this case, I've been given carte blanche into helping mold Chimera into an effective enough force. I've actually based a lot of it on Cerberus' model for running a military, ironically enough."

"Jesus Christ," someone in the crowd said aloud. No one bothered to shush him.

Shepard managed to get to his feet while everyone was distracted with this. Liara had done good work, he noted with a smile. She had disseminated Larsen's rantings and ramblings immediately after his fight with the Legionnaire had concluded. As the ex-Shadow Broker, she had ways of getting everyone's omni-tool address so that she could send out the document to the greatest amount of people possible. Evidentially, she had succeeded in her goal.

Trying to downplay the limp he had just received, Shepard was about to lead Roahn and everyone else out the door when he suddenly spotted a figure shove their way to the front of the pack from deeper within the building. Followed by a loyal posse, this new arrival seemed harried and out of breath as they stumbled out into the shambles of the foyer, his eyes tracking Shepard and his crew while utilizing every second to its advantage.

Slicked black hair. Finely trimmed goatee. Immaculately tailored striped suit. Raynor Larsen in the flesh.

Larsen's eyes flicked from the wounded commander and his crew, to the destruction that had torn the room apart, and finally to the fallen body of the headless Legionnaire lying next to the ruins of what had been a priceless statue. The gears rapidly turned in his head and the resulting expression that graced his features was one of pure loathing and aggravation as he undoubtedly realized that all of his meticulous plans were about in as many pieces as the Legionnaire was right about now.

"You…" Larsen lifted a shaking finger in Shepard's direction, appalled beyond all recognition. "You're an absolute psychopath. A delinquent thug that destroys anything that you touch. What in the name of—what is the meaning of this?! What have you done?! This is how you repay us? By decimating our infrastructure? Killing your countrymen? Terrorizing the very people you swore to protect? Do you really hate your own kind so much that you would run roughshod over them just to have your way?"

The man was fronting, attempting to put on a good show as he had heard the recordings of his own voice being broadcast up and down the halls, no doubt. Some of the audio files were still playing, overlapping Larsen's voice with his actual words as he continued to speak, albeit with a nervous glimmer in his eyes.

Shepard screwed up his face, the pain slowly beginning to subside to a steady throb, as he took a deliberate step forward, pins and needles shooting all up his legs as he moved. Roahn tugged at his hand, a silent plea for him to let this go. He looked down at the girl's forlorn expression. She looked so lost without a sehni, Shepard sadly realized. With a heavy heart, his gauntleted hand slipped from her grasp as he walked over to Larsen, keeping his eye line level.

Larsen was starting to realize that the tide of public opinion was slowly ebbing away from him as many people close by were shooting him looks of disgust. Some were even backing away from him slowly. Muted grumblings now joined the chorus of his own voice, deepened and darkened with grim forebodings. Despite his gut instinct, Larsen persisted.

"This is an outrage! Did you really expect that you could come down here, blow your way through a few armed guards and claim yourself a moral victory today? You think that chaos and destruction are tools that exist to aid you? Like it or not, you live under the banner of the Alliance! You can't evade the veil of accountability, especially after the debacle in this city, one of which was entirely the result of your actions!"

It's only a debacle for you, Shepard thought as he continued to plod his way over.

"The days of the Spectres are over!" Larsen roared, spittle flying from his mouth. "The bureaucracy—the red tape—exists for a reason! To protect the public from hooligans making up the rules as they go along. You don't answer to the Council, you answer to us! Humans! You have no idea how the galaxy works, Shepard! We don't have happy endings here! There is no 'winner-take-all' scenario for us! The decisions we make here are nestled with conditions that sap the lifeblood from our constituents. We are in a zero-sum game here, my friend. You may think you're doing something on the righteous path now, but… in ten years? Five? You'll be begging to take your actions back so that you can preserve your halcyon days!"

Not giving an inch, Shepard mutely continued to stride over to the senator, his jaw clamped shut although his fists were certainly clenched tight.

Larsen was now appearing to demonstrate a bit of a sweat as the combined clamor of his own voice in the recordings was starting to cause his damnation to weigh all the more heavily upon him. Even as the armored form of Shepard approached, he stood his ground, albeit he was starting to lean back a little.

"You're nothing but a relic, Shepard! A soldier without a government. Nothing but the surfeit of a shattered authority, driven solely by your ego! What weight do you hold when you're compared to me? On this world, you're nothing, Shepard! You're the coward who selfishly fled to form your own little utopia instead of admitting your culpability in aiding and abetting war criminals! I'm the relatable politician who was in the trenches for months on end, digging the bodies of my family from the rubble! You left and I stayed behind!

By this time, Shepard had made it to within a foot of Larsen. He could easily reach out and touch the man's lapel if he wanted. Hell, he could even snap his neck now that there were no guards around. Quick and clean, before anyone could react. This was the man who tried to ruin his life. This was his enemy!

But Shepard remained steadfast and maddeningly quiet. Larsen held eye contact with Shepard but was quickly unnerved when he took stock of the fact that the commander was missing an eye. If anything that only seemed to make Shepard more dangerous.

Sensing the fact that he would not find any sympathy from his colleagues in the crowd behind him, Larsen jerked his head to the side as his lips pulled back in a sneer. "What do we do now, Shepard?"

It took all his might for Shepard not to respond to the senator's question.

Frustrated at the continued silence from the commander, Larsen tilted his head downward as he gave a sigh before he gestured in the direction of a nearby office. "You came all this way to get to me. I still have some obligation to such initiative."

Threading a path through the angered crowd, Shepard remained in Larsen's wake and he spared a final glance at Roahn behind him, who tenderly raised a hand to bid him farewell—three fingers spaced out in the open air.

With an agonized smile, Shepard returned the gesture.

---

The heavy wooden door—a relic of the past in its own right—clicked shut as Larsen twisted the doorknob deliberately. The broad-framed senator then strode past Shepard, who was standing in the middle of the unfamiliar office, and walked behind the lone desk to stare out of the tall window—one that offered a view onto the crowded plaza below.

The office was not Larsen's, which Shepard could tell because the name plate atop the wooden desk did not at all match. The floor was a thick carpet colored a shade of green so dark that it appeared black. Bookshelves full of datapads and actual paper-based tomes filled the counters—mostly publications filled to the brim of dense legalese and other impenetrable passages.

Shepard felt so exposed standing in the middle of this office, but he was still so pumped full of adrenaline that it was easy to imagine that he radiated rage. He was anger incarnate, and if his current expression was not an indication of that fact, then it had to be the damaged and bloodied state of his face and armor that would drive that point home to full effect.

Larsen then turned away from the window to appraise Shepard, acting as if he forgot the commander had been standing there for half a minute without any prompting.

"So," the senator began in a resigned fashion as he walked over to the heavy desk, but did not move to sit at it, "I trust that you're feeling rather good about today?"

Shepard was statuesque to the point of barely breathing.

Larsen just simpered at the non-response, toying his fingers along the polished wooden surface. "Of course. How you must hate me, Shepard. You likely imagine that you have won by this point. After all, you've trounced the best that Chimera has to offer in your effort to make it this far. How incredibly naïve of you. You think that getting rid of me is going to solve your problem? I only wanted to strengthen humanity after we had been battered from that damnable war. I was entrusted with finding a solution that would bring a lasting peace to this galaxy!"

"Peace?" Shepard finally chucked as he shook his head in derision. "Wasn't that what I was fighting for back then?"

The senator visibly glowered. "You took care of the problem at hand but you left a vacuum in your wake. With the Reapers defeated, and the veil of superiority dropped, it was time for someone to take the reins of civilization and be the new leader of the coming order! That was to be humanity's destiny! And you… you willingly undid years of work with this little stunt… all because I ruined your house."

"It was not just about the house," Shepard grimaced. "The scheming. The chasing. The fear and terror. You brought back to me the life that I had vowed to set aside for someone that you would never have the pleasure of meeting in person. All because your ambition could not take the fact that I had shunned you that one day, when I refused to help you damage our relationships with our allies."

"Yet… all you had to do was talk. If you had only talked… all of this would never have come to pass."

"You would have turned me into a political tool, Larsen. I vowed the second that I woke up in that hospital bed with Tali at my side that I would never fight someone else's war ever again."

Larsen's eyes slowly narrowed as the man appraised the armored denizen. "You withheld classified material and endangered billions from your actions, Shepard."

"And you would endanger billions more had I told you what I knew back then," Shepard shot back. "The public will know what I had to overcome during the war, Larsen. Sooner or later, I will give them the truth. But when that happens, the knowledge will not bring you any benefit."

"What could you know of benefit?" Larsen seethed as he stepped around the desk in a stomping motion and swept a paperweight off it at the same time, earning a solid clunking noise as the heavy object hit the carpet. "The Council's stonewalling of your initial efforts to bring the Reapers to light ended in disaster! When they withheld that information from the public for years, did you honestly think that they were making the right choice? How are you different from them, Shepard? What prevents me from calling you a hypocrite… Commander?!"

"Nothing, that's what!" Shepard shouted.

The room rapidly absorbed the noise gracing its boundaries, leaving a stuffy void in its place.

"Nothing…" Shepard repeated. "But the Council refused to disseminate information on the Reapers that would have helped us in the fight. What I know… the asari's Prothean beacon and the meddling of the salarians… it won't help anyone. It will only coordinate chaos. Destruction. I won't have that on my hands, Larsen."

"Because your hands are bloody enough, is that it?" Larsen bitterly scowled. "You would say such a thing to my face?"

The pale and quiet look that emanated from Shepard's lone eye was enough to give even a steel-hearted man like Larsen pause.

"Do you think your wife and child would be proud of who you've become?" Shepard whispered. "Is this really what you think they would have wanted of you?"

Shepard could tell that Larsen was fighting the urge to take a solid whack at his face, for his skin was turning quite a few brilliant shades of crimson in rapid fashion.

"And…" the senator said back carefully, "…what about your family, Shepard? Would your wife have wanted to see you turn against your fellow humans? What about your daughter? Does she even respect or even comprehend the decisions that you've made? Are you the idol that a child like her needs?"

The mere mention of Roahn from Larsen's lips was enough to drive Shepard completely over the edge.

With a singular stride, Shepard got so up close to Larsen that the back of the latter man's legs were driven hard into the edges of the desk. Blood continued to trickle from the remnants of the soldier's eye, some drops even making their way onto Larsen's shirt, staining the cloth.

"I just want you to know," Shepard spoke softly, "that I didn't come all this way over here for you simply because you blew up my house, tortured me for information, or sent an assassin to hound me across the galaxy for weeks. I came here to hurt you because you threatened the life of my daughter. Because you put that girl in harm's way… I can't let go what you did."

"You can't—" Larsen barely had time to blurt out before Shepard's fist savagely plowed its way into Larsen's stomach.

The senator gave a wheezing cough and doubled over after all the air was solidly driven out of his lungs. The commander had hit Larsen so hard that his victim started to see stars. His windpipe gave a revolting gargle as he tried in vain to gasp for breath, but not before Shepard rudely grabbed at the senator's perfectly combed hair and delivered a powerful punch to the jaw. Larsen spun all the way around and fell upon the desk, blood bubbling from a cut on his lip, cheek plastered to the top of the wooden counter.

Shepard then shoved his hand firmly down upon Larsen's back, holding him in place while he readied his free arm for another attack. "For god's sake, you never stopped being a massive prick. You and your pugnacious attitude. Just for once, can you at least find the sense within you and admit that you've lost?"

The door to the office then slammed open and Shepard turned his head to observe the disruption.

Armed guards—policemen—hurried into the room and took out their service weapons and pointed them at Shepard. There were five of them, all decked out in riot gear. Their heavier guns were slung on their back as they were inefficient in these close quarters. Their steely gazes were not focused upon Larsen, but all were fixated upon the man restraining him in a threatening position.

"Hold it!" the lead cop barked at the commander. "Release the senator and step away from him, now!"

Oh… damn it, Shepard thought as his face began to fall.

Below him, his face still shoved into the desk, Larsen began to nastily laugh. "I'm not the one who spoke too soon, eh?"

"You bastard," Shepard whispered as he continued to hold onto the senator for just a few more seconds. He was right here. He had him! Larsen could not, after all this, end up slipping away! He just couldn't!

Shepard's arms noticeably tensed as he pondered if doing some more permanent damage to Larsen would be suitable right about now, but then he found some clarity as he looked to the window and envisioned Roahn standing right outside. The poor girl. Lost and confused. Just silently pleading with him to come home.

No. It was done. This was over.

Heart heavy, breathing laborious, Shepard finally unclenched his hands and let the cloth of Larsen's suit slip from his grip. His legs now acting of their own accord, his stiff body distanced himself from Larsen and he slowly raised his hands up behind his head, already complying with the shouted commands from the officers, even though they sounded distant—lifetimes away.

As Shepard was being cuffed by one of the officers, Larsen stood back up (with some difficulty from the injuries he had sustained) and tried his best to smooth out his wrinkled jacket, now stained with his and Shepard's blood. His smirk slowly making a comeback, Larsen smugly leaned against the desk, showing red-flecked teeth.

"You made a mistake, Shepard," the man wryly laughed. "On top of the many violations of the law you've shattered just in the last half hour, you hit an Alliance Senator, which if I'm not mistaken, is a federal crime. I'm sure it will be tacked onto the rest of the mayhem and murder charges you've incurred from barging into my city and wreaking havoc. It's the classic trope, Shepard: the Hero's Fall. I'm going to enjoy watching the Savior of the Galaxy earn a cell off-world. You've never had to face the responsibility of your actions. Now, you just might have that chance."

As much as Larsen wanted Shepard to lose his cool and make one last futile move, it appeared that Shepard was already spent. The commander had completely relaxed, peace falling upon his face. He was malleable, suggestible to the whims of the officers who were now leading him away. Shepard did not even spare a lingering glance at Larsen as he was led out the door, giving the senator a surprisingly empty feeling. The inattention, the glazed manner. Perhaps Larsen had not fully won in the end, the senator realized.

However, Larsen soon gave a disinterested grunt and he slicked back his hair as he was finally afforded a moment of quiet. Tenderly, he rubbed his jaw. His fingertips came away bloody.

Shepard… that fucking prick. He had the nerve to punch a senator without even giving a singular thought to the consequences afterward? What a stupid man. Larsen's stomach and jaw still were giving him a fair amount of irritation, though. Not a surprise after being bludgeoned by a literal human tank. Fortunately he could raid the medicine cabinet back in his office to dispel his pain once the craziness of this morning subsided.

Larsen returned to looking out the window, past the warped glass and out onto the crowd down below. His brow furrowed in consternation. He was going to have to do a great deal of explaining to try and justify the mess that had occurred today. He could see the news headlines in his head already: "All-Out Warfare in Berlin Streets." Sensational enough for the public to lap it up as if they were dying of informational thirst. The public was so predictable, so easy to manipulate. Perhaps… with enough spin, maybe Larsen had an opportunity here to frame Shepard as having snapped and gone on a rampage in this town. The past course of actions certainly did not sound like anything a sane person would do, that was for sure. It was a long shot, but any effort was better than no effort.

There was a better chance of whipping up a quick PR strategy back in his office, where all his files were, so the notion to start heading there right away made perfect sense to Larsen. He would gather his secretary corps and work at a broad statement that would paint the commander in quite a bad light, get a hold of their contacts in the press—Der Spiegel being the first that came to mind—and then they would proceed to—

The door gave a now irritatingly familiar bang as Larsen was beaten to the punch with approaching the threshold. The senator gave pause, blinking furiously in confusion as three differently armored individuals—not policemen this time—barged into the office. Like regular Chimera foot soldiers, these men were decked out in the latest combat skins, thick and bulky. Unlike regular Chimera foot soldiers, the skins were colored a complete matte black, with no splashes of color allowed to adorn their attire.

"Well? What the fuck do you want?" the senator said rudely as he wiped his chin. "You're too late—they already took the commander away, so get the fuck out of my—"

The lead trooper, his face completely hidden by a helmet that was mostly comprised of a solidly polarized visor, did not respond to the aggravating senator, but instead reached behind him to withdraw a pair of solid steel cuffs—not hackable omni-cuffs—but traditional, old-school metal bands.

Larsen glanced up and down from the soldier to the cuffs, uncomprehending for a moment. His eyes then tracked to the shoulder plates of the three men, finally managing to pinpoint the small insignia inscribed there—a tiny white patch that Larsen realized, with a start, he ultimately recognized. The symbol instilled a nameless fear deep in the bowels of his mind, festering a spark of sudden and catastrophic terror. Suddenly adrift, the senator began to stammer as hopeless pleas stumbled upon his tongue.

"This… this isn't… he doesn't know what he's doing… I… I… I can help… I can fix this!"

The two soldiers that flanked their compatriot with the cuffs then moved forward to take hold of Larsen's arms, positioning them out front. Larsen was starting to become catatonic at this point as he continued to protest.

"No… no, stop! Stop! Don't do this! It's all over! It's under control! He doesn't understand! He doesn't understand!"

Whether or not the pleas made any sense to the men, they did not help Larsen's case in any matter. The metal cuffs made heavy clunks as they fastened themselves around Larsen's wrists. The senator continued to make pathetic appeals to his captors, but they failed to utter a single word, their duty being their only drivers.

"You fucks," Larsen now changed his tone. "You think I'm as disposable as you? No… no. I have purpose. I have a use! You are pawns in his grand design. I am significant! We are not equal, you and I. I am the only thing that is keeping this whole debacle from—"

Larsen felt a pinch at the base of his neck and he cut off his own sentence as he made a small sound of discomfort. Realizing what had happened, he glanced over in horror to find one of the soldiers stowing away the syringe he had just stuck into the senator. The contents of the syringe hit Larsen in seconds. His eyelids felt like they had gained fifty pounds and the inclination to take a rest sounded like a mighty good idea right about now.

"You'll find out what he has in store for you," one of the soldiers finally uttered, but there was nothing that Larsen could do or say back. That was the last thing that he heard before unconsciousness overtook him.

Calmness flooded his head. He blacked out.

---

It had ceased snowing by the time Shepard was led outside through the front doors of the Reichstag. He said nothing to the police as they gently led him through the gates and down the stairs, being extremely cooperative through the entire process. A medic had given him some omni-gel and had thrown a bandage over his wounded eye, which made his injury look a lot less ghastly.

The mass of protestors, as if on cue, all quieted upon realizing that Shepard was back outside with them. For many of them, this was the first time they had ever seen the commander, not to mention his crew, in person. For some, this would be the last time. Everyone seemed awed as they simultaneously took in the knowledge that they were in the presence of the man who had saved all of their lives several years ago. There was no excitement, just a solemn and dutiful respect.

No one cheered. No one whistled in support. The throng of holographic protest signs and the whirring of camera drones were the only rapidly moving objects in the area that drew any attention to themselves. People just stared. They stared because they knew that any other reaction would be inappropriate. They knew that Shepard did not need to hear their love and affirmation. He just needed to know that they stood with him, no matter what.

Despite the somewhat fascistic image of Commander Shepard being led to a waiting Kodiak shuttle in handcuffs, no one booed or heckled the police. In fact, the officers gently guiding Shepard down the steps seemed to be pained from their actions as they afforded the man their own gratitude and deference, despite their orders.

To the right of where Shepard was walking, a corps of Berlin police officers guarded a lingering group of unarmed Chimera troopers who were all dejectedly sitting on the steps—the remnants of the battle here. The weapons of the Chimera soldiers had all been deposited in a pile near a police truck and the apprehended men had shed their armor and had thrown the pieces next to their guns. The soldiers now sat while the police watched over them. Many were looking down at the ground in shame. The rest had blank looks on their face as they contemplated life. Shepard was struck by how young some of the soldiers looked and he wondered how many deluded and youthful men he had killed in the past few days because of one man's greed. He realized that he probably would not like the answer.

Shepard's lone eye scanned the crowd, taking note of the mostly human makeup of the congregation, but also managing to pinpoint a few turian faces, some asari, a salarian or two, and there was even a volus (for some reason). But Shepard's gaze never lingered long upon a singular person in the mob. He was searching for a familiar face and his heart would be eaten at with voracity until he could locate it.

Then, all of a sudden, he finally found her.

Roahn was standing camouflaged in the crowd, Garrus' hands lightly resting upon her shoulders. The dull golden glint of her helmet was specked with sleet, the remains of her sehni folded within her hands. A quick glance revealed the rest of his crew standing interspaced within the multiracial horde, all of them looking up at him and smiling. Whether or not any bystanders in the crowd recognized who they were standing next to, no one betrayed any reaction whatsoever. All eyes were on Shepard.

Shepard's eye remained latched onto Roahn's. The two shared a sad little smile. Shepard's own gesture contained a playfulness of its own. He winked at the girl and Roahn nodded back to him, in admiration and in her own special love for him.

He was still smiling up until he was led into the Kodiak to be taken away.

Muted murmurings now grew from the crowd as the police convoy prepared to take off, ostensibly to transport their new prisoner to a jail for processing. The Normandy crew slowly filed off further towards the park boundary, putting some distance between them and the police, who were only now beginning to clamp down on the situation.

No one said a word, not even Roahn as she tenderly looked back at the shuttle her father was in, her breathing now becoming ragged.

Familiar faces had disengaged from the crowd, anxiously awaiting an update. Sam and Nya were waiting for them near the forested edge of the park, both looking rather cold in this weather. The doctor read the crew as best as he could, his arm interlinked with his wife's.

"We got here to see the end. I hope everything went all right?" he said by measure of a greeting.

Liara itched her cheek, where she had garnered a shallow scratch. "Hard to say. I know things might not seem ideal… but they probably went better than expected."

"You're not all concerned about the end result?" Nya asked for anyone to answer, referring to Shepard being held by the police.

Garrus shrugged, still holding onto Roahn. "We'll have to see. Want my guess? I think that things are going to turn out just fine. I don't see any cause to worry."

"I'm glad you're so optimistic," Sam said a little apprehensively. The doctor did not look completely convinced, but he knew he was not qualified enough to dispute something that was not in his domain of expertise.

"I'm a regular beacon of joy, doc. You should know that. Anyway, you still intend to remain here for a couple days on your 'vacation?'"

"Planning on it," Nya answered in her husband's stead. "Do any of you need us to take you anywhere in the meantime? The starport? Citadel?"

Garrus and Liara glanced at each other before both gave quick shakes of their heads. "That won't be necessary. We've got things under control on our end."

"We're always open in case you need help," Sam offered. "So… what happens next for all of you?"

Garrus tilted his head in mirth as he tightened his clawed hands on Roahn's shoulders, reassuring the girl at the same time. Roahn looked up to view her idol and Garrus' mandibles twitched in her direction in the form of a tiny grin.

"What happens next? An opportunity. There's always an opportunity to be had."

---

A/N: There you have it. Hopefully this was the sort of thing you were all waiting for. I'm eager to hear what you think of things, most certainly.

Playlist:

Legionnaire - 1st Stage: "Time Bomb" by Jed Kurzel from the film Overlord

Charge up the Steps/Trooper Melee: "The Union" by Martin O'Donnell, Michael Salvatori, and Paul McCartney from the Music of the Spheres - Destiny

Legionnaire - 2nd Stage (Eye Out!): "Shutdown" by Dario Marianelli from the film Bumblebee

Legionnaire - 3rd Stage (Roahn's Attack and Warp Field Onslaught): "Shoulder Touch" by Daniel Pemberton from the film Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

Legionnaire's End: "My Path Is Set" by Neal Acree from the video game StarCraft II: Legacy of the Void

The Walk Outside: "On Your Way" by Daniel Pemberton from the film Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse