So, I'm back. Been through one heck of a semester, but I've still been writing. With classes done, I hope to have the next chapters of my stories up in a few days.
This is a one-shot collaboration that I've been working on with my friend Bahoogasmif, and is based in his story, Legacy of Fire. If you are a fan of happy endings and fluffy Shepard/Tali goodness, then I definitely recommend his work.
This story, however, is more action-oriented. Strong violence and epic moments lie herein.
For The Ages
Grunt's head panned slowly across the battlefield as he lay on his stomach. His fingers dug into the silt below him while his eyes took in every speck of cover, every gully and trench that he and his men could use. His gaze lifted slightly as he began to take in the enemy's position. He had to admit, it was a good spot to defend from a force of superior numbers. The enemy had decided to hold up at the base of a hill about six hundred yards out, making sure he and his freshly minted troops had to run a gauntlet just to come to grips.
The environment would normally have given his men the advantage, seeing as how they were in the ruins of a city on Tuchanka's surface, but his enemy was no normal foe. The skies were choked with smoke, allowing the barren brown dirt to blend with the similarly colored horizon. He could hear artillery still firing from nearby, and every once in awhile a shell would land out in the no-mans-land that stretched out before him. The land itself looked as though a giant clawed hand had grazed the surface, tearing deep furrows into the earth; and everything between him and his foe was covered in wreckage. Either from earlier battles or pieces of the dwindling city he was supposedly standing on the outskirts of.
The massive tank-bred huffed in annoyance as he lowered his head back behind his own hill, taking in his sorry excuse for a task force as they watched him. He had maybe fifteen krogan left in the new Aralakh Company he led, and each of them looked eager to come to grips with the enemy. He took in their expressions of impetuousness and looked back over the hill briefly.
If I have them charge straight down the middle they'll get slaughtered. These things can snipe a krogan's guts faster than Wrex could down a glass of warm milk.
He quickly formulated a route and whipped his head around to roar at his troops.
"Alright Aralakh Company! Split into four groups and get ready to move! These cowards are dead." Grunt gave the enemy position one last glare before ducking behind the hill and grabbing spare ammo. It was time to show the galaxy their mettle.
Aristotle stood rigidly before his team, the headlamps of his comrades straightforward and glaringly bright to an organic eye. He did not speak to his fellows, as he knew his krogan adversary had to, via vocalization of thoughts; but rather he spoke to them through the geth network intelligence. He and his assisting units had been running combat scenarios as they waited for the inevitable krogan charge. So far, however, the battlefield had been silent. The geth thought at the speed of light, and had run many simulations on how the krogan might assault them, but overwhelmingly their consensus was that it would likely be a straightforward assault. The krogan were tough, true; but no organic being to date could survive an anti-matter round of a widow rifle to their brain tissue.
The geth all had faster reaction times than any organic, and at the extended ranges of ground before them, the krogan would quickly cease to be. A few of the scenarios they had run worked on the assumption of a smarter commander leading them. To which Aristotle felt what an organic might call, "excitement". He was more interested academically in this fight than he was ideologically. Assuming they didn't use a normal testosterone-fueled charged, the outcome became far less predictable. For a moment Aristotle was suddenly reminded of something Shepard-Commander had once said in his presence to Vakarian-Spectre.
"You know what they say about assumptions, don't you Garrus?"
"No, what?"
"Assuming makes an ass out of U and me."
Aristotle dispelled the image of Vakarian's confused expression as he was pinged by a fellow runtime.
/ Enemymovement at six hundred yards out and closing. Likely krogan are preparing to attack our position. /
/ Acknowledged. /
He responded quickly, coming out of standby mode and focusing his single optic on the far ridge while bringing his sniper rifle to bear. He began scanning targets as the other platforms spread out to pre-planned defensive positions. The geth force had been reduced to only six operational units: A single geth juggernaut, two hunters and three soldiers, including himself. All of them were well versed in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. But as organics often pointed out, it was difficult to fight a krogan in hand-to-hand. That was why he and his ilk had chosen a position less likely to result in hand-to-hand fighting, as the opponent would likely have the advantage in that scenario.
The hill behind them was at a twenty degree incline, allowing an easy retreat should the worst come to pass. It too was littered with junk large enough to use as cover, half buried in the bright Tuchanka sand. It was clear they had the advantage, but this particular krogan commander had proven unpredictable in the past. With all of the scenarios running, Aristotle and the geth units held their position. Scanning for any signs of movement, he and his team lay in wait; digits hovering above their weapon triggers.
A sudden blur from the left of the enemy hill caught Aristotle's attention. He snapped his optic towards the commotion, training his scope on a small object jetting through the air. In a brief moment, he ran through a series of possible identities on the object.
Grenade? Improbable, distance too far for even krogan arm to throw. Shrapnel? Also unlikely. Consensus on the order of 92.68% that object is a chunk of concrete roughly four inches in diameter, thrown for distraction.
Even as he reached this conclusion and began to ignore the rock, large hulking shapes sped out from around the hill. The krogan were split up and staying distanced from each other, making multi-kill shots unlikely. He also noticed that they stuck to cover quite well, as opposed to the headlong charge his team had predicted.
Aristotle felt a surge of what organics called emotions as he scoped down his first target. His runtimes were not dedicating much processing power to the actual killing itself, but rather, they were excited over the improvisation used by these krogan. It appeared his team had a intelligent enemy. His head-flaps twitched slightly as another Krogan crashed heavily to the ground half a mile away with a round penetrating his skull plating. A column of brown sand-filled air swirled up from the krogans impact, visible even to a human's eyes from this distance.
One of the slower groups still not in the safer area of the no-mans-land had a member trip, skidding on his hands and knees as he tried to keep moving. He was never given such a chance. A heavy shot rang out from his barrel, and he registered a hit on the krogans second heart. The creature fumbled at it's chest wound, howling in pain while blood spilled from his mouth. He would die, but not for a time. Aristotle was employing an old human sniper tactic of wounding one to make others come to it's aid. Unfortunately, krogan were not known for their caring personalities; and after a while of waiting, he finally put the krogan out of his misery.
By the time the bulk of the enemy had made it to the trenches and away from his rifle, only three had been killed. He and the others with him calculated only thirteen krogan were left to eliminate. He retracted his widow and began to head towards his unit to take up a closer range position. It would be difficult to handle this many krogan before they closed, and every gun was needed on the line.
Grunt listened as he heard the last sniper rifle round crack through the air, and shook his head when his fellow krogan's howls cut off abruptly.
"Idiot," he growled in disgust.
"He was just slowing us down anyway sir." A red tinged krogan behind him spoke up,
Leralz I think his name is. Grunt eyed the krogan with a brief glance before bellowing out more orders.
"Shut up, we're moving! Keep your heads down and don't bunch up!"
His group began moving, putting some space between each other as they navigated the fissures in the landscape, a natural scar on the battlefield that they were now using to their advantage. Another crack of a sniper rifle rang out, but was not accompanied by a tell-tale scream or the sound of wet meat. The natural trench seemed to run the length of the hill, but even as Grunt ran forward he could tell they wouldn't be safe in cover. The stone and dirt edges were uneven at best, and were barely enough to crouch behind at times.
Another rifle report rang out; this time, there was a popping sound that accompanied the shot along with the crunch of what had to be head plating being shattered.
"Damn it, I said keep your heads DOW-" a sniper round blew through the stone next to his head, showering him with debris and cutting him off.
Maybe I should follow my own advice.
"You missed!" he laughed defiantly, almost daring them to take another shot. With new adrenaline flooding his veins, he was almost tempted to rush straight up the hill... almost.
"Keep a cool head out there, Grunt." Shepard had told him. "Just because you have the quad for it doesn't mean you can be reckless. Besides, think of how surprised everyone will be by a krogan fighting smart."
The words of his battlemaster filled his mind with resolve, and his icy blue eyes snapped into focus on his surroundings. There were a few landmarks around him, and he placed his team roughly two hundred yards out from the enemy's last known position. He quickly stole a glance over the lip of his cover, looking for any way to proceed without following the fissures curves out into nowhere instead of his objective. Immediately he ducked back down though, as he saw a white armored figure swivel to look at him from far off.
"Come on, we've still got ground to cover and we're falling behind the other teams. Suck it up!" He suited his own words and took off up the natural trench at a breakneck pace, not looking to see if his team followed.
/ Alert! Krogan squad approaching left flank, approximately one hundred and fifty yards from current position.
/Acknowledged/
Aristotle tracked one of the targets, catching only brief visual glimpses as it moved between wreckage and stone at a dead sprint. He gauged his timing and the targets trajectory, leading him by just a hair as he pulled the trigger. Stone exploded into a cloud of dust through his scope as he watched for signs of movement, but after a moments stillness, he began panning for more.
The enemy was close now. Too close for his sniper to be of use for much longer. He calculated the time it would take for him to switch his widow for the rifle on his back, compared to the speed of a charging krogan, and found the lag wanting. From a mere fifteen meters a krogan could cover the distance and remove his ability to aim his weapon effectively. From where he and his team stood, it was approximately 21.69 meters to the nearest effective cover the krogan could use. While within tolerable limits for one krogan, they were dealing with ten. A mass charge from that range would effectively negate his teams firepower, allowing only the front few krogan to absorb all the damage while the rest advanced unhindered.
It took him only a flash to calculate all of that, and he found himself out of targets with all the remaining krogan now within charging distance and behind cover. He scanned the terrain carefully along with his allies, looking for the best route for the enemy to come through. immediately they discovered that a flanking maneuver was possible. A small trench, hidden by a taller than average rock formation, led to their far right flank.
As a unit, they contemplated how best to counter this flaw before their time came to a close. A few runtimes suggested posting the hunters with their invisibility cloaks on the flank, but were quickly outvoted. Those shotguns would be sorely needed on the front line once the krogan closed. A new motion soon gained support however, in the form of the geth Juggernaut being posted there. While powerful, it's skills were not as well suited to close range combat as the hunters; and would fit the role of keeping the flanking force pinned quite well.
The larger juggernaut unit stomped it's way over to the right flank, it's massive spitfire weapon held against it's hip to use as a suppressive spread shot. Meanwhile, Aristotle and his squad hunkered down behind various pieces of cover on the suspected point of assault on the front. The Hunters, with their darker armor tone and plasma shotguns, began to dissipate into thin air; the effect looked not unlike heat waves rising from the ground as they disappeared.
Now all they could do was wait.
Grunt looked around one last time, seeing his men get into position. He saw a nod from his flanking group leader, who had three others with him, signalling all was ready. Grunt nodded back and watched them begin their run around the left flank before turning back to his group. He had a total of six men left in his own group. Everyone else was either dead behind them or part of the flanking maneuver.
He waited a few extra moments for the flanking team to hit their side of the engagement, and in those moments, he could feel his blood rise. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of a battle soon to be fought. The tension around him was high, and he knew his men felt it too, but not a one of them showed fear. They all looked eagerly forward towards the enemy position, and were ready to claim this junk-cluttered hill as their own.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the air, and his eyes snapped open.
"FOR TUCHANKA!" He screamed at the top of his lungs while he lunged over the lip of the trench. Fast as he was though, his squadmates had been faster. A few of his men sprinted just ahead of him in their slightly lighter armor, and instantly took a barrage of gunfire to their chests. Their shields quickly flared and died under the combined firepower, but still they pushed on as bullets tore through them.
They neared the halfway point in their charge, and already he had lost three more of his men, yet they continued undaunted. barreling forward and yelling for all they were worth as the geth continued to pour fire into them. Grunt's eyes widened for a moment, as two hunters popped into existence on either side of the geth position. The hunter's opened up with devastating effect, and the krogan they hit toppled instantly, causing two others behind them to falter in their charge to avoid the body.
Not five feet from him stood one with it's shotgun raised. He threw himself to the side and only lost some momentum as the first shot went wide, and before it could get off another he crashed into it.
The thing was silent as Grunt straddled it on the ground to rip one arm out of it's socket and pound his other fist repeatedly into it's single bright optic. He quickly dropped the now useless arm as the lights died in the machine and he looked for his next target. He whipped around to see his team taking on four other geth.
The remaining hunter attempted in vain to dodge a shoulder charge, but it was caught in the side and sent sprawling. The other three geth had dropped their rifles and had omni-blades out, assuming a combat stance he didn't recognize as his last men closed the first krogan who sprinted in didn't even get to hit anything as the geth lept to the side in a feat of acrobatics and slashed along the krogan's side, spilling out his guts with a scream of agony.
Grunt was already moving toward the battle. He raised his Graal shotgun and held down the trigger, waiting for the charge to build. The last two krogan in his group closed the distance at the same time, and this time they were prepared for the geth. the krogan closest to him caught a geth in mid leap, grabbing its arm and slamming it down to the ground hard enough to break its metal frame. The second krogan did what none of the geth expected, and that was stop charging. He stopped a few feet away from the collapsing geth formation and picked his target carefully, approaching slowly.
Grunt's shotgun finally clicked to tell him it was fully charged and he let loose, sending jagged spikes hurtling into the nearest geth trooper who looked almost comically surprised at the foot long spears now protruding from its chest armor. Its head flaps flared once before its lights slowly sputtered and died, and it toppled over backwards. Grunt tossed his shotgun down as he came closer, and the nearest trooper did something he hadn't thought it would. It charged back. Grunt smiled, and lowered his shoulder to meet the challenge.
It had taken a fraction of a second for all of his runtimes to come to their conclusion, the majority acknowledging it as a calculated risk. He'd seen what the krogan could do with his natural strength, but Al was faster, more agile. Goading his opponent into a charge could work well to his advantage, but only if his hip actuators performed flawlessly.
With only a meter between them, Al crow hopped to the side, avoiding the krogan's grasp as his omni-blade materialized, lashing out as he passed. The krogan narrowly avoided the weapon at the last moment, twisting to the side as it grazed his thick armor. The krogan's momentum carried it further than it intended, as it struggled to maintain its balance when it turned towards him again. Having recovered from his side-step, Al was ready, closing the distance between them again before the krogan could regain his footing.
Al's omni-blade slashed at his adversary again, the strike aimed for his opponent's neck blocked by the krogan's right arm. The krogan growled in retaliation, bringing his left fist towards him even as Al drew his blade back again. Choosing to evade over taking the hit, Al stepped back again, putting enough space between them for the krogan to hit only empty air. What Al didn't predict was how the krogan continued, using his momentum and continuing with his right, punching into his frame with enough force to dent his armor.
Far from crippled, Aristotle stabbed at the offending arm, finding exposed flesh amongst the krogan's armor plating. Roaring in pain, the krogan struck out again, lifting Al clear off the ground with its still good arm in a crushing grip. Al kicked out against the krogan's chest with some success, but it didn't slow the krogan from throwing him to the ground in a raw display of power. The krogan raised its foot to end the battle, but Al rolled to the side and struck out against the beast's supporting leg, dropping it to the ground with a heavy thud.
Al struggled to his feet, but a flurry of movement caught his optic's attention. The juggernaut unit they had stationed to stop a flanking maneuver was now fighting in unarmed combat with two krogan, having dropped its spitfire to better fend off its attackers. The bullet riddled corpses behind the melee proved it had been at least marginally successful. The juggernaut was strong, but with two krogan it was clear it was struggling, the sheer ferocity of the enraged krogans' attacks connecting with its joints and armor again and again.
In a display of defiance, the juggernaut struck out and grabbed a krogan by its leathery neck, crushing its windpipe even as the second krogan blindly struck a fatal blow to its power core. The juggernaut's lights flared brightly at the sudden jolt of unregulated voltage from the catastrophic overload, sending arcs of electricity into the air... and the krogan who struck the blow. The krogan's body jerked violently as the electricity locked up its body and rooted it to the spot. Smoke began to rise from the krogan's plates and armor as it shook, its eyes beginning to boil and ooze from the sockets as the juggernaut's core vented completely. The core quickly ran out of energy, and resulting explosion overtook the krogan closest to it, showering the area with shrapnel and gore.
All of this happened in the flash of time it took for him to process it.
Al refocused his attention back to the krogan before him, assessing the threat. The krogan commander was still on the ground, but was struggling to his feet, gingerly supporting the leg that Al had struck before. Seizing the brief window of opportunity, Al charged the krogan, omni-blades raised and ready to strike.
The pain was hardly noticeable as Grunt eased himself from the ground. He was aware of himself being injured, but the blood haze in his mind made him focused entirely on the enemy before him. The geth was sprinting at him, and was only a few meters away now. Grunt snarled a challenge, propping himself on his sturdy leg as he waited for the blow to come.
Time seemed to slow as the geth leapt into the air and swung its omni-blades forward, the adrenaline coursing through Grunt's veins as he jumped up from the ground, catching both of the geth's arms in his. The blade's scrapped at the sides of his armored gauntlets, but did little else.
"Ha! Too easy," Grunt chuckled, raising his arms up slightly to pull down on the geth, ready to literally tear it limb from limb-
For a moment, the two were face to face, both unable to swing due to the lock they found themselves in. The machines synthetic muscles bulged and flexed as they fought for control. Grunt huffed in effort, surprised at the machines strength.
"Scrrrreeeeeeeeeeee!" A high-pitched metallic screech emitted from the geth's audio output, and all the machines head flaps flared out as far as they would go. Grunt raised his hands to his ears in an attempt to block out the deafening sound.
The geth seized the opportunity to lash out at his uninjured arm, attempting to further weaken his ability to fight the synthetic off. A bloody stripe was cut across his bicep, but didn't slash deep enough to maim. Enraged, Grunt brought his head down on the geth's with force, sending it back into the dirt. A mass accelerator round struck against his shields, the impact making them flare brightly in the grimy brown of Tuchanka's dust filled air. The air shimmered, and he lost sight of his new foe.
Hunter. He thought grimly. Well, this should be fun.
The other geth seemed to back off, tending to its head as it assessed its damage. Grunt growled, but he knew if he went for the geth that he saw, he'd be wide open for the hunter.
Another shot rang out from behind him, glancing off his shields. He spun about to face his foe, only to find the hunter vanishing once more, leaving him guessing as to its location. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area, looking for the tell-tale shimmer and listening for movement. Grunt could only take a step forward before he was hit from his right, the blast of the hunter's shotgun enough to drop his shields. He whirled, using his injured forearm as a club, but again the hunter disappeared from his sight. He huffed in rage as it continued to dance around him.
In searching for the hunter, Grunt's gaze passed over the bodies of the other krogan who had followed him in the charge, strewn about with several geth littering the area. He scowled. The geth had managed to kill his entire team, and though they had handled themselves well, there were still the two geth left to deal with.
The unarmed geth stood at a distance, likely waiting for the opportunity to jump back into the fight. At the moment, though, the still circling hunter was ultimately more dangerous-
Another shotgun blast hit him square in the chestplate, nearly knocking him into the dusty earth with the force. He hissed in pain as he reeled from the blow, but managed to glimpse the hunter before it cloaked again. Pretending to be grievously wounded, he hunched forwards, leaning on his stronger arm as he scanned the ground before him. The geth may have been cloaked, but the Tuchanka soil and dusty was easily compressed, the machines subtle footprints were slowly appearing in the earth as the hunter circled.
The unarmed geth darted forwards once more, coming at him from the left while the hunter's footprints appeared on his right. Grinning, Grunt struck out to his right, grasping an invisible solid in the air as he guessed where the geth's neck was. With a roar, he turned with the hunter in hand, placing it between him and the oncoming geth unit just as it stabbed at him with its blades... piercing the hunter instead. The geth in his arms materialized as its stealth unit was disabled, its optics flickering once before it died out permanently. The final active geth deactivated its blades as it dislodged itself from its ally, quickly activating them again to fight the krogan before it. Grunt bellowed a roar, using the hunter in his hand as a cudgel, swinging at the geth before him and connecting with a satisfying crunch of metal. The geth went down, but sprung up again underneath him, stabbing into his damaged chestplate.
Grunt roared as he felt the geth's blades pierce his chest and lungs, spraying spittle and blood on his foe's optic. In defiance, he grabbed the geth by its head, using both arms as he clutched at where the head met the shoulders for leverage. The geth twisted the blades inside him, forcing more air from his lungs as he felt his energy wane.
With a final roar, he tore at the geth, separating the synthetic's head from its body in a fantastic shower of sparks and shredded metal, the geth's blades deactivating as the headless scrap fell to the ground. In a wet but triumphant laugh, Grunt fell back to the ground, grinning as his strength ebbed and his vision darkened.
His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he was hungry.
Grunt's eyes flared open from where he sat. He struggled to remember exactly where he was, and all he could see was an intense light directly above him. He registered a dull roar in his ears, but ignored it to figure out what was going on. He moved an arm up to cover his eyes and take in the sight before him.
He was in a plush leather chair, which was leaned back into a horizontal position, and the room he was in was small. It was lined with darkened window panes, and was mostly white, giving it a sterile look. His eyes flitted about the room, until they focused on two people standing a few feet away.
"Grunt! That was amazing buddy!" Shepard's voice snapped him from what was left of his blood haze, and he could feel his eyes undilating as he relaxed a little. It took a moment for Grunt to see the arm sling and head bandage that his battlemaster wore, and his bondmate standing beside him. He wondered briefly what could have caused the damage to his battlemaster. As if at random, his memory on where he was and why he was there came rushing back and his nostrils flared.
"Where is he?" Grunt's question made Shepard's face contort into confusion, and he sighed in exasperation.
Sometimes he just can't keep up.
"The geth! Where is he?"
"Oh! he's in the next-" The opening of a door on the side of the room cut off all conversation as Aristotle walked inside.
"Our battle group would like to congratulate you, Grunt-Company leader. We did not anticipate such an outcome to these trials." Grunt surmised that he was in one of many cubicle-like rooms that were interconnected, allowing easy access for players. The deep baritone voice of the geth stirred Grunt from his chair and he rose to his full height.
"You did alright... for a machine. But these... games, aren't the same as the real thing."
"Agreed. Although the new version of the Aremax Combat Arena neural coupler allows for realistic virtual combat on the order of 95.24% accuracy. Close enough that organic minds cannot tell the difference."
"Hmph." His huff of annoyance was all he could get out before the door behind the geth slid open once more to allow the other six geth from the battle. The juggernaut had to crouch to enter the doorway, and even then it stood slouched to avoid hitting it's head on the ceiling. Aristotle had only brought a few with him, since the ship he'd traveled from Rannoch in had very little in the way of mobile units.
At much the same time the door on the opposite side of the room opened to admit his own team. Some of them looked... disturbed, as they shuffled in single file. One krogan kept running a hand across his face and touching his eyelids as if making sure they were still there, while another one continuously rubbed a hand over his chest piece where his heart was. Grunt too felt the lingering sensation of his death, and the pit of his stomach reminded him thatitcertainly thought it had been real.
"It would have been a good death." One of his men rumbled proudly to a chorus of approving grunts and pounding fists. Grunt had to admit, it would have been a fight worthy of song.
"While we question how premature deactivation could be considered "good", it seems that our televised skirmish has aroused the spectators." The machine reminded Grunt that it was a public match, and that everyone had seen the fight, even though it was a virtual reality match.
"Ok everybody, are you all ready to go and meet your adoring fans?" Shepard flashed his trademark lopsided grin as he opened one of the side doors and made a sweeping motion with one arm to indicate they go first.
Grunt jerked his head towards the door for his team to start heading out, following them through the door with the geth close behind. Going through a few more of the virtual reality booth rooms, they finally found the exit. Shepard and his mate walked past him toward a ramp where he finally discovered what the dull roar he'd been hearing actually was. It was a crowd. No, not a crowd, an army of rabble stood outside a gate leading out of the arena, cheering uproariously.
Giving his battlemaster a look of befuddlement, Grunt finally shook his head and began the short trek up the ramp with his team at his flank. The lobby practically erupted at the sight of them, and the rabid fans jumped and waved excitedly for his attention. As he neared the gate he began to wonder if he'd have to bash his way through the crowds, but they were parted by a vanguard of security once they got closer.
The holographic gate dispersed when he passed through it, and he stopped for a moment to take it all in. He let his gaze roam over the horde around him, all the while wondering how such soft things lived past forty.
"Grunt! keep moving man! I don't want to be here when they finally get past security!" Shepard had to yell from only a foot away to have even a slight chance at being heard over the cacophony. He nodded and started a brisk pace towards the exit and back to the apartments, the door sliding shut behind them cutting off the exuberant masses.
That was rough... we'd better be getting something to eat now.
Shepard leaned against the bar in Andersons old apartment, watching all his friends mingle and discuss the recent 'battle'. Tali stood at his side, one arm looped through his; she hadn't left his side since he'd come back from his last mission a few days ago. He had been surprised at her tenacity when it came to going wherever he did, but he supposed it was just her worry over his injuries that caused it.
He hadn't expected his entire old crew to show up within a week of being notified about his injuries either, some taking time from their jobs just to be here. His bemused look must have been more obvious than he had intended, as Tali gave him a quizzical look through the visor and leaned forward to see into his eyes.
"John?"
"Yes Tali?"
"You aren't still upset at everyone for coming to see you, right?" Her question made his brows knit together in confusion.
"Upset? I was never upset by it. I just-"
"Don't like the thought of people taking time out of their lives to make sure their close friend is alright?"
"Well when you put it like that..." He rolled his eyes but gave her a kiss on the visor.
"Will you stop frowning at everyone while i go check on Ria? I'm sure she's being corrupted by someone, my money is on Jack or Zaeed." He gave her a nod and she unlatched her arm from his to go find their daughter. He watched her go until she disappeared around the corner towards the kitchen.
"The scenario given is highly unlikely, Spectre-Vakarian." He heard Aristotle's voice from the lounge behind him and turned to once more see what his guests were up to.
"I'm not saying it's likely, i'm saying it would be a great contest! I bet if you and I were set up in that virtual reality thing and given two rifles with vantage points-"
"Such a contest would be short lived, as either I or you would be downed quickly with little to no crowd excitement. Also, the Armax Arsenal Arena uses Virtual Reality uplinks that use a series of brain wave and activity scanners that set up the links... For clarification." Garrus stood silently eyeing the machine with an expression of extreme doubt.
"I swear we need to stop letting geth hang out around Shepard. They all start to think they're comedians."
Shepard smiled but looked around for other conversations; seeing his old friends and colleagues again was doing him good, he had to admit. Joker and Wrex were at the far end of the bar, Wrex's deep rumbling voice the only way to tell they were even talking. Kaiden stood with Grunt and James, both the marines giving the krogan their congratulations as he dug into a bowl of party snacks with a vengeance.
He pushed off the bar with his casted arm, and went in search of everyone else who had showed up for his "get well" party. He entered the living room area to find the majority of his friends sitting on the plush couches and listening intently to Liara, who stood before them like it was a kindergarten-style story time. He saw Ria looking on with fascination between Tali and Miranda, likely imagining every heroic fire fight with stunning detail. Zaeed sat close to Samara, who deigned to ignore him. Kenneth and Gabby had also decided to show up along with Kasumi.
"When we got past the last group of mercenaries, we found the Shadow Broker himself standing alone in a large room filled with consoles and vid feeds. Looking back on it, i don't think he even had a chair in that room... Anyway, it as a Yagh. Huge things, maybe 10 or more feet tall and bristling with tee-"
"Ok Liara, I don't think I want to hear the rest of this story again. I hate remembering that thing." Tali shivered a little and ignored the loud groan of protest from Ria. Zaeed huffed in disappointment but kept his mouth shut.
"Alright, but I was just getting to the good part." Liara smirked before she took her own seat on one of the couches.
"What about you Shepard? I'm sure you've got some stories we could hear." Miranda suggested.
"Yeah, come on dad!"
"Bloody bastards got nothin' on my Blue Sun days."
"I'm sure it can top the Shadow Broker, knowing Shepard."
His friends all spoke up at once, and after a minute he relented.
"Alright, alright! I do have one story I could share." He shuffled over to where Liara had been standing and propped himself on the fireplace. Everyone settled into their seats, getting comfortable for the coming tale. He was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, but when he looked up again he was ready.
"I remember once back when we were chasing down the collectors, I was headed towards the crew deck for a midnight snack." As he began his story, he noticed with some small amount of satisfaction that both Kenneth's and Zaeed's faces turned suspicious the further he went.
"I was just about to rummage around the cabinets for a sandwich when I heard a very strange noise coming from the starboard observation deck. This is before we picked up Samara." He nodded briefly at her and she graciously bowed her head slightly as he continued.
"Anyway, When I opened the door I found quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life."
By this point, Zaeed had a glower on his face and Kenneth was trying hard not to laugh. His pause in the story lasted long enough that Garrus and a few others from the other room drifted in, they too curious and taking positions behind the couches.
"Zaeed, Ken and Grunt were all standing together, Grunt was making this deep humming noise in a rhythm while Ken was singing one of those Irish songs he does-"
"Hey! You said you'd never tell this story to anyone!" Grunt stormed in from the other room, one arm wrapped around the chip bowl and the other still shoving chips into his mouth. The krogan's entry looking rather comical, even if he was mad.
"As I was saying, Zaeed was there with a bagpipe, looking completely lost. I mean, you shoulda seen the look on his face."
"How do you even tell what his face is doing? I sure as hell can't." Jack quipped.
"Shut your trap you guddam witch."
"Where did you get a bagpipe on the Normandy Ken?" Gabby shoved him in the gut as she asked, but he just grinned wider.
"Let's just say it involved some Islay Scotch an' sum strip poker."
"Strip poker?" Ria's question made Tali give Ken a harsh glare that he sputtered in response to.
"It's uh, nothing lass! Dun' you worry bout it!" His answer got a satisfied nod from Tali, but left Ria looking confused.
"Moving on. So, I see them all standing there right? And after a minute or two of excuses I finally got them to admit what they were doing. Turns out, Zaeed was there because he lost a bet, and Grunt was there as the bass because he was told it was a war song."
"Aye, I needed a bit more than just m'self were I to make a scottish song come ta life."
The entire population of his apartment was now listening to his story, and more than a few were openly laughing at Zaeed's misfortune and Grunt's naivete.
"Do you still have that bagpipe with ya?" Kasumi asked Ken over the laughter.
"Nay, the Alliance snatched her from me when they took o'er the Normandy on earth. Although..." Ken got up from his seat on the couch and walked over to the speaker system along the wall. After a moment of tinkering a bagpipe came over the speakers. It was a cheerful note, echoing along the walls and lifting already soaring spirits. Ken quickly walked over to Grunt and snatched the now empty chip bowl from the krogan's hands.
"Come on you! I need a good bass for this song." Ken gestured to the middle of the room and Grunt rolled his eyes, reluctantly stalking over with the scotsman. Shepard vacated his story telling position in the center of the room to plop down beside his wife and daughter and enjoy the live entertainment.
Grunt started to make the noises Ken wanted, a steady "bummm bummm bummm" as Ken began the song. The group cheered them on, and he smiled at his insane family. For the first time in days he forgot completely the nightmarish images that lingered within him, and just enjoyed the moment. Wrapping one arm around each of his girls, he began to hum along with the tune.
Thanks for reading!