Chapter Five: Battle Royale

"Can you hear me, Commander?" Storm spoke into her helmet's transmitter.
Shepard's response was underscored by crackles of static. "Barely. This salvaged comm gear won't be much use at longer ranges."
After their brief rest stop, Storm had disassembled the turian's hardsuit, hoping to get at the comm circuitry and effect some repairs to their suit comm units. Though damaged by Shepard's assault on the hunter, the Lieutenant had managed to patch together a serviceable unit and install it in Shepard's helmet. For herself, she accessed the minifacturing unit of her omni-tool and, with some omni-gel was able to fabricate the parts she needed to assemble some comm gear of her own. Signal strength was problematic though and Storm thought it was due more to the overall condition of their hardsuits than anything else. Still, communications broken by static would be preferable to shouting to one another the next time they found themselves under fire.
While her officer was fitting the components together and muttering curses under her breath, Shepard took the opportunity to relieve the turian of the rest of his arsenal.

The Sokolov shotgun, modified with a scram rail and recoil dampers she eagerly claimed as her own. The turian's sniper rifle she gave to the Lieutenant who broke down the now surplus weapons taken from the batarian into omni-gel.
"We ready to go, Ma'am?" Storm asked.
Shepard nodded. "Bring up that map of the area and lead us to the vehicle garage. We'll jack ourselves a ride and really raise some hell."
"They have to expect us to try something like that," Storm pointed out as they began walking away from the apartment block. She walked head down, gaze intent on her omni-tool's display. The amber glow of the holographic interface was comforting in its familiarity. Occasionally, Hailstorm's eyes flicked up, briefly scanning the immediate area but saw nothing of interest - just more rundown residential buildings, sidewalks cracked and shattered, hardy weeds growing up through rents in the road surface.
"They will but I get the distinct impression that these guys see us as mere cannon fodder. Look at the way they have things set up: they send the 'contestants' out in banged-up armour and without weapons and I have the feeling most of the hunted aren't the most skilled opponents. Probably they drag in a lot of pirates and mercs. Us Alliance types must be a rare find."
"So your thinking is that they'll underestimate us?" Storm sounded doubtful.
"Look at what the turian did to you back there - if he hadn't been so obsessed with putting on a good show for the punters, he'd have just up and shot you. Which would obviously be a bad thing but do you understand where I'm going with this?"
"He wanted to challenge himself so he came at me with only a blade. Makes sense in a twisted way but I doubt the rest will let their guard down so easily."
Shepard merely shrugged and said nothing.

After walking in silence for some time, Shepard said, "Explain something for me, Lieutenant."
"Ma'am?" Storm replied, looking up at the Commander.
"How did your family end up with a name like Storm?"
"Heh," the officer sniggered. "That goes back about five, six generations. Back in the day, the family name was Smith."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, plain, boring Smith. One day, old Arthur Smith who was what used to be called a 'hippy' decided to change the family name after he fell in with this bunch of tree-worshipper types. Settled on Storm to reflect nature's fury, if you can believe that."
"Do you?"
"About the tree-hugging thing? People do all sorts of crazy shit for no real reason, so yeah. One of my cousins fancies himself the family historian, showed me the actual documentation from when Arthur changed his name. Both of them."
"Oh this should be good. What did he change his given name to?"
"You ready for this?"
"Hit me with it."
"Thunder," the Lieutenant chuckled. "I kid you not. His wife? Changed her name to...Snow."
"Snow...Storm?" Shepard laughed quietly.
"I know and it just kept getting passed down. I believe my parentals honestly didn't think about the obvious nickname when I was born. Well, that's the story."
Effortlessly changing mental gears, Shepard asked, "How far are we from the vehicle garages?"
"No more than thirty minutes," Storm pulled up, eyeing the omni-tool intently. "Contact," she said quietly. "Right on the edges of my sensor-net. Two of them, moving slow. Recommend we find a place to bunker down."

The pair of Alliance soldiers stood in the courtyard of another abandoned building, the immediate area choked with trash and the body of a junked car. There was little else in the way of cover. Shepard looked up at the building, three stories high with rusty fire escapes providing a way up.
"Head up there, find a good sniping position," Shepard gave the Lieutenant a little push in the shoulder to get her moving.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to go and introduce myself to our new friends," Shepard smiled, her teeth a dull glow in the night sky.

Storm jogged towards the building, each step sending dull jabs through her abdomen and down her thighs. The medi-gel was doing a good job of numbing the worst of the pain, for which she was grateful. As she approached the bottom rung of the fire escape, she pushed herself into a sprint and leaped, grabbing the rickety structure and scrabbling upwards. The entire ladder shuddered under her weight but held. Gasping slightly from the exertion, she ascended to the flat roof of the building, eyeing her HUD the entire time. The blips were still a good distance away. The roof of the structure was bare except for the heating and cooling units of the climate control systems.
Hayley removed the sniper rifle from the hardpoint on her back, taking comfort from the familiar hiss-whir as it unfolded into combat mode. Resting the rifle barrel on the edge of the roof, Storm laid down on her stomach and flipped up her helmet visor, bringing her right eye to the scope.
"In position," she said into her helmet mike.
"Copy," Shepard's came back. "I'm going to get their attention and fall back to your position. Do me a favour and try not to shoot me in the head, 'kay?"
Wordlessly, Storm double clicked the comm in acknowledgement.

Shepard edged forward, shotgun held at the ready, kinetic barriers powered down. If it worked once...why not try again? The two blips, close together were slowly moving towards her location. She wondered how many hunters were out here. She'd taken down the batarian, though he was obviously not supposed to be in the tunnels, then there was the turian. How many more? Shepard thought back to when she'd awoken on the ship. The turian she recognised from on board. He'd been with a krogan. So was he out here as well somewhere? Possibly one of the two contacts on her HUD?
"Focus, Shepard."
The Spectre moved from cover to cover, pressed herself up against the crumbling wall of a half-demolished building. One of the blips had broken off and was moving away from the other, heading for Storm's location.

"Lieutenant, you have a hostile incoming." The comm clicked twice by way of reply.
The other blip began moving at an increased rate towards Shepard's location. Shepard brought her barriers back online, tapping a finger against the shotgun barrel as the shields powered on.

Cautiously, Shepard eased her head around the corner of the building. In the near distance she saw the familiar blue-purple of a biotic corona. "An asari," she muttered. "Carries herself like a commando, oh joy." The asari strode slowly forward, unhurried, as though she knew her prey couldn't run far. Gripped in her right hand was a long, slightly curved blade, the metal a matte black to avoid reflecting any light.
Shepard inhaled deeply, exhaled the breath slowly. She'd always been wary of other biotics. A well trained human possessed enough power to levitate something the size of a geth armature or put a human-sized target through a brick wall. An asari? Their natural biotic abilities were usually an order of magnitude higher again.
A high pitched sing-song voice carried towards her on the cool night air, the sound of it raising the hairs of the nape of Shepard's neck. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" the huntress sang.
Shepard glanced at the Sokolov in her gloved hands. The range was too far for it to be effective. Slotting it back into her armour, she drew the sidearm. The inferno rounds it was carrying would make short work of most anything, she hoped.

Exposing only her head and right arm around the corner, Shepard drew down on the asari and snapped off a shot. Incredibly, the biotic simply cartwheeled to the side, the round flashing downrange and igniting some trash at end of the block. Before she could pull back, the asari extended a hand in an almost languid gesture and Shepard was flung backwards and slammed heavily to the ground. Her head smacked the pavement and Shepard's sight blackened dimly.
Don't you dare pass out, don't you dare...

The Spectre bit down hard on the tip of her own tongue and the flare of pain cleared her head enough. Raising her head, Shepard saw that the asari was just standing where she had been previously, watching her. Knowing it was a futile gesture, but doing it anyway, Shepard raised the gun and fired again. The round was harmlessly absorbed by a biotic barrier. The asari laughed, a light tinkling sound and stalked towards her, sword making complex patterns as it cut through the air.
Shepard scrambled to her feet and stumbled backwards, still firing. The hunter laughed again, an incongrously joyous sound amid the swirling violence.
Venting her mounting anger, Shepard snarled, "Come on then! You wanna dance? Bring it!"
Left arm raised, Shepard tensed her muscles, feeling the element zero nodes throughout her body flare with dark energy, amplified by her Savant bio-amp and lifted the asari into the air.
As she spun upwards, limbs flailing, the asari laughed again as though this was the most fun she'd had in years. Like she was a child on a rollercoaster.
Shepard gripped the sidearm two-handed and snapped off shot after shot until the weapon overheated. The asari merely rolled over in midair and began to 'swim' out of the path of the bullets.
"You cannot be serious," Shepard breathed. She'd never seen anything like it - the hunntress was using the mass-lightening field to...fly.

Through the scope, Hayley kept a watch on the courtyard before her, alert to any movements but saw nothing. She was keenly aware that the hunter could very easily enter the building from the rear exit and had left her position long enough to plant a few tech mines set on proximity triggers to cover her rear. From the distance she heard gunfire, fought down an urge to check on the Commander. Shepard could handle herself, had proven it more times than Hayley could count. It was her own welfare the Lieutenant had to be concerned with and she'd done a bang-up job of keeping herself in one piece so far. Trying to beat in a turian's head with a broken piece of table...you silly bitch the voice in her head whispered.
"Shut up. Just shut up!"
Bad enough you were captured by those four-eyed scum but to drag down the Commander as well? Hayley, Hayley, Hayley. What are we going to do with you? Her fingers tightened their grip on the rifle until her knuckles ached but she couldn't shut out that voice of self-recrimination. It was only telling the truth, after all. You're better than this, sis. A different voice, her brother's spoke in her mind. Don't do this to yourself. I believe in you, even if you won't.

Even thousands of light years from home, Julian was still looking out for her. She felt a lump rise in her throat, fought back a sob.

Memories of home came flooding back - Julian teaching her how to ride a bike without the training wheels, hovering close behind her as she rolled unsteadily back and forth, to catch her if she fell. She remembered the feelings of elation the first time she rode by herself, making it all the way to the end of the driveway and back, and the look of pride in her brother's eyes. The family home had a piano, a massive Steinway and Hayley and Julian would spend hours seated beside each other, just plinking away at the keys, making up their own music.
Oh give me the strength to go on, she silently already have the strength, little sister. It's within you and always has been.

From behind her, within the building one of her mines detonated and she was on her feet in an instant, collapsing the rifle and bringing up the pistol. Sighting along the barrel, vision blurred by tears, she moved at a crouch to the door at the top of the stairs leading into the building. The interior of the building, an old office complex of sorts, was dim and Hayley crouched in the stairwell, giving her eyes time to adjust to the reduced light. Head cocked to one side, she listened intently, hearing the last of the energy discharges from the ECM mine crackle into the air. Moving forward again, the Lieutenant's eyes swept left to right, but saw and heard nothing else.
How badly would it suck to find out I'm stalking a rat?
Pausing halfway down the flight of stairs, gun pointing into the gloom at the base of the staircase, she heard a faint shuffling footstep, a pained-sounding cough and another footstep. Whoever had set off the mine was wounded, it sounded like. Storm raised her left arm, risked diverting her attention from the stairs and tapped a series of commands into the omni-tool, priming another tech mine. Renewing her two-handed grip on the Armax, she went the rest of the way down.

Miriya had almost been fast enough to evade the worst of the tactical mine's blast. Almost but not quite. The force of the detonation hurled her across the litter-choked back office area, slamming her into a plaster wall. The impact left a concave impression in the wall and plaster dust rained on her like confetti. Worse than the physical injuries was the damping effect on her biotics. If the prey came upon her now...

Back pressed up against a wall, Hayley sidled along to the corner, crouched and peeked out. The hunter - an asari in sleek black armour liberally dusted with crushed plaster hobbled towards her, one hand pressed to her thigh. Even in the dim light, Hayley saw the blood slicking the woman's thigh. Her other hand held a long black blade, the tip of it scraping the floor. As her eyes locked with the Lieutenant's, the asari's lips peeled back in a snarl and the blade came flashing up.

Storm lurched back around the corner and the blade bit into the wall where her head had been seconds earlier. The blade struck with a solid thunk. With a frustrated grunt, the asari yanked it back out. The beginnings of a blue corona began forming, as the effects of the mine wore off.
"Won't you come out and play?" the asari gasped.
Backpeddling towards the stairway she'd only just come down, Storm palmed a fresh tech mine into her left hand, thumb convulsively pressing down on the detonator and tossed it down the hall.

Miriya's eyes widened as the hateful hateful little orb of death and pain flew at her. Flew closer, closer, close enough for her to reach out and

A blinding flash of green-white light
PAIN
Scoring furrows through each and every nerve ending
deafening
blinding

Gun trained on the asari, Storm carefully approached her, alert to any trickery but the huntress seemed to be in a very bad way. Hayley tried to feel something for the asari but nothing was coming. A part of her wondered what that said about her, that she could inflict such pain and misery on another living being and just stand there, watching. And what do you think she'd have done to you? You can't afford to go soft now, Hayley.

Hayley carefully aimed the sidearm, sighting in on the quivering asari's forehead. She could make the end quick and painless, at least.

"More than you deserve," she muttered as she squeezed the trigger.

---

I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky.

Of all the things to pass through Shepard's mind, as the asari's biotics once again hurled her into the wall was a fragment of song lyric from an earlier century. Shepard coughed as she slumped to the ground, felt something wrench horribly inside her. Ribs. Broken. It was no good, she was tapped out. The waif-like asari had stopped giggling at least. Now she came in at her target at a fast walk, raising the blade overhead to deliver the coupe de grace. Shepard rolled over onto her back, felt blood trickling from her lips down her chin. She'd lost her grip on her shotgun and sidearm during their biotic duel and had only her own weakening abilities with which to defend herself.

Part of her wanted, very much, to die. A voice whispered in her mind, urging her to just let go of the pain and fear, just let go. It would be so much easier, to give in, give up than to continue fighting this losing battle. What did she have to gain, in the end, the voice whispered, cajoling her.

You're tired, you can sleep forever if you just...let...go.

Another voice spoke up then, one she'd never expected to hear again. Kaidan. You're better than this, Commander and I refuse to let you give up on yourself.

Shepard's eyes opened and she found the will to raise her right hand, found the strength to contract the muscle groups in sequence, firing off the element zero nodes. Her implants thrummed with dark energy and, as the blade came down, Shepard warped the asari.

Blade raised overhead, Selene considered this broken wreck of a human slumped before her. Now I take your heart, as you destroyed mine. Shepard's arm came up trembling and her form glowed with biotic power. Smiling slightly, Selene brought the blade down.

Screamed as the dark energy began tearing her apart at a molecular level, felt blood leaking from her nose and eyes, obscuring her vision. Against her will, the blade fell from spasming fingers.
The blade clattered to the ground, hilt mere inches from Shepard's hand. Fighting the pain in her side, the Spectre hauled herself towards it, fingers scrabbling. Above her, the asari screamed and shook as the dark energies continued to tear at her. Shepard's hand finally closed around the sword hilt and slowly she climbed to her feet, bracing herself against the wall of the building. Staggering, she closed with the asari huntress, gripped her shoulder and, with a final burst of adrenal-fueled strength, slid the katana hilt-deep into the huntress' chest. The blade sliced out between her shoulder blades, blue blood trickling from the blade. Wordlessly the huntress collapsed.

Shepard followed suit.

Time passed. How much, Shepard couldn't say only that not nearly enough time had passed for the pain in her chest to fade. From a distance, she heard booted footfalls on shattered asphalt, heard a voice calling her name.

"Shepard! Shepard? Oh God."
Shepard's eyes flickered open and the form hovering above her resolved itself into Lieutenant Storm. "You'll forgive me if I don't return your salute, Lieutenant," she said, voice hoarse with effort.

The Commander felt hands, Storm's most likely, tearing open the cargo pockets on her thigh armour, removing the medi-gel.

"Won't be much good on broken ribs," she muttered.

Without bothering to reply, Storm's gloved hands felt for the catches holding her hardsuit's cuirass together, unsnapped them. Hayley gasped as took in the extent of the bruising across Shepard's upper body. Already black-purple bruises had appeared on her skin. Her first-aid training kicked in then, her hands opening a packet of medi-gel, gently smearing it over the Commander's ribcage. Shepard winced at the coldness then relaxed a little as the numbness replaced the pain.

"Permission to speak frankly, Ma'am?" Storm asked, carefully closing the hardsuit around the other woman. Shepard nodded.
"You look like shit. Ma'am."
"You should see the other guy," Shepard said, attempting to rise. A hand pushed her back down, gently but firmly.
"You're too banged up to move right now. You need to rest."
"I can rest when I'm dead. Help me up, Lieutenant," Shepard's voice didn't waver. It held the unmistakable timbre of authority. Storm helped her up.

Shepard stood, swaying slightly, feeling light-headed. The fight with the rival biotic had almost killed her and she felt an uncomfortable sensation, like ants crawling over the back of her skull and down her neck, radiating out from where the bio-amp sat snug in its socket. How close had she come to completely frying it? Shepard raised her right hand. It shook slightly, muscles twitching and jerking beneath her skin. Closing the hand into a fist, the Spectre quelled the shakes. Opening the hand again, she generated a weak mass effect field, bracing herself for a lightning bolt of pain to rip her head asunder. Blessedly, it didn't come. The crawling feeling intensified slightly but that was all. She'd gotten lucky. Lucky. The thought amused her and she laughed.
"Ma'am?" Storm asked.

"I was just thinking how lucky I was not to be in a coma or something right now."

Shepard scanned the surrounding area and located her weapons. The asari, aside from the blade now lodged inside her had also carried a sidearm. Shepard relieved her of it, slotting it into the hardpoint at her right hip.
"You got the other one?" Shepard finally thought to request a sitrep.

"Yes, Ma'am," Storm answered crisply. Holding onto established regs and protocols helped keep her from focusing on how deeply in the sewer they were.

"Then it's time to finish this."

A/N: I probably over-stated the effects of the tech mines in this chapter but I figured that anything that could shut down tech and biotic talents and stun a target into the bargain would probably have some kind of painful effect on the target so I went with it. Also, Fade to Black will likely be the last story I write with this incarnation of Shepard. I'm currently working on a follow up to the Valentine's Day special and I promise, it'll be a lot more light hearted than this.