Alright! We are finishing off on Zorya now, and then we turn back to Arcturus!

Damnation this one gave me trouble. Not because I had writer's block, but because I found (the) God (of TV) called 'Game of Thrones'. More about that below after the chapter.

In this chapter, we introduce a new mech, something for an old reader and reviewer who asked me to include these some way.

Solar Invictus - Stella Nova

Zorya, Blue Suns Headquarters

Blue Suns Reformist forces

15:09

Even without the left arm, the HAS-mech was a terrible force to encounter. The pilot was no less fierce and bloodthirsty than he had been when he was dropped off, and the giant GAU-90 was resting on the broken arm in a stable position while it was occasionally sent to spear and impale the hostiles who tried swarming the mech. Not that it would ever work as long as there were dozens of Reformists guarding it's sides anyway.

As the suit progressed around a corner, a Loyalists jumped up and tried slapping a charge onto the suit to get under the shields. Instead he was pummeled while in the air, then the blade at the end of the giant gun went straight trough him, the graphene-blade having been designed to be able to carve into reinforced doors and damage vehicles.

There was a brief cry of raw agony and horror as the blade cracked out through the backside of the Loyalist, leaving the man dangling limply from the gun after a short series of spasms. With a casual swipe of the mech's hand, the Turian pilot threw the corpse off his gun and kept walking, not even stopping to watch the body slide down a wall.

"I repeat: I am so, so much getting one of those!" Magnus exclaimed upon witnessing the display of sheer power and killing-efficiency displayed by the suit. True, it was not as tall as the original AMP. The human suit standing at some twenty feet tall, but with its fifteen feet, it was still towering above anyone man or woman, regardless of the species. That, and it's weaponry had been slightly upgraded in the sense that it didn't rely on gunpowder to propel it's projectiles. The automated Rail-gun was much more efficient in that sense, the only drawback being that it overheated rather quickly. With the following Reformists moving up behind it, the suit and its pilot lumbered down the corridor, allowing the shields to take all the hurt the hostiles could dish out, as well as making sure the infantry wouldn't walk into the fire of a heavy entrenchment. Of course, some weapons posed a threat to the suit too, like the missiles of heavier machineguns. Anything that fired either Hammer-head, Devastator or Buzz-ammo as well would be a threat. The latter due to its ability to cut down shielding.

"That would require you to survive this mess first Olafur. So keep your eyes and mind on the task, not on your orgasmic fascination with our only heavy hitter." Sidonis said, sounding to Magnus more like a scolding parent than a soldier. Then again, he supposed the Turian was an intellectual, not just a mere grunt.

"I like big guns, I cannot lie. My enemies, to their deaths will fly" He said, grinning while praising himself for having thought up the newer version of the music. Too bad he didn't have the music on the Omni-tool.

"Was that some of your religion?" The Turian asked, causing Magnus to almost drop his rifle. He turned to look at Sidonis as they came into a larger area with more space, both to the sides and upwards, making the room a big one indeed.

"Not really, it's an old song." Magnus responded as he watched the suit tear into a group of Loyalists who had been trying to lock onto it with missiles. They must have believed it to be slower, or to have lost the ability to shoot. Only one of the rockets went off, and it went straight up and through the glass-roof, causing large shards of glass to rain down on the floor. One of them nearly hit Magnus as he was getting a bead on a Loyalist who was taking potshots at the mech, the latter being in the process of slamming a trooper into the wall like a ragdoll.

"Gods-Dammit!" He swore as he jumped to the side, startled by the sound and feeling of a three-foot shard of thick glass shattering on the ground. A few meters to his left, a Human Reformists was less lucky, a smaller but still big shard cutting down through his body as if he was clad in silk, not a hardsuit and ceramics. The man didn't even scream as the glass sliced clean through his body and was stopped by the floor. Red puddles of blood started running from the long gashes and cracks in the ruined armor.

"Less talking, more shooting!" A man to his right shouted before leaning a Revenant against a low wall. He unleashed the torrent of fire upon their enemies while laughing, giving Magnus the impression that the man was slightly insane.

Still, his was an example to live by, and Magnus and Sidonis both rose up from cover to pepper the Loyalists with rounds. Almost instantly they were fire upon in return. Magnus, as he dropped a Human Loyalists, saw his shields drop to below twenty. The incoming fire was too strong for him to just shrug it off, and his shields were not strong enough to withstand it. While he ducked, Sidonis and the other man, as well as the rest of the remaining Reformist forces, kept firing on the Loyalists, both forces slugging it out at each other in a desperate fight for supremacy.

If there was one good thing to this chaos though, it was that he hadn't seen anyone starting to cry or scream yet. Men, no matter how hard and tough, could and would often crack when they were in this kind of hell-holes, with multiple people trying to kill them and projectiles flying by their ears. He could remember his first battle, as 'courageous' as it had been.

It was strange really, he thought, to remember that kind of thing when he was in the process of getting his body shot full of holes. Still, near-death situations had a habit of making him remember the strangest things. Remembering how he had nearly wet himself when a Krogan Blood Pack had tried tearing off his arm, was not exactly the most pleasant memory. Still, he had kept his shit and had stabbed the space-toad in the throat more times than he could count. Even as he had turned the bastard's throat and lower face into a Swiss cheese, the Krogan had taken some minutes to go down. Instead of losing the arm, he had just broken it three places. It was a small solace, he guessed.

Rounds hammering off of his cover brought him back to the present, and he leaned his rifle over the low wall and pulled the trigger while aiming it in the general direction of his enemies. Cries of pain would have told him he had hit something, but he heard nothing aside from the constant firing of rifles and guns. The occasional sound of the much more powerful GAU-90 rifle going off like a small anti-vehicle cannon.

As the firing kept on going, he lost count on the amount of times he simply had to fire in the blind, and only occasionally hit someone. The good thing though, was that the Loyalists has a hard time getting a bead on the mech, meaning they were being thinned out one explosion at a time.

Magnus leaned over his cover again, this time taking the time to aim for his targets. His Vindicator was on his back while the Mattock was now in his hands, the stock of the rifle against his shoulder. Looking down the iron-sight, he squeezed off a few rounds at one of the Loyalists, a Turian, who was trying to get a bead on him in return. The shots went past the hostile by a wide margin, making it clear that the struggle that had gained him the Mattock had done something to the sighting, or maybe it was how Batarians aimed. Either way he had to compensate for it, aiming a good bit left of his targets. It was mostly a shot in the dark when he fired, as the iron-sight gave his eyes something to be distracted by. However, after having zeroed in on the Turian Sun, even as his own shields began to suffer from the onslaught, he tapped the trigger as many times as he could. The weapon overheated as he reached ten shots, but it sufficed to get the Turian to duck behind cover again.

A fresh spray of slugs impacted on his cover, forcing him back below the whittling fire as it tore into the wall.

"For fucks sake! Give a man a chance to kill you!" He shouted, the chaos causing him to near the end of his patience and temper. Being shot at was harrowing, no matter your experience.

Funny, that he had once though this sort of fighting to be merely entertaining, a game even.

Looking to his side, Magnus could see the larger man with the Revenant ignore the incoming fire as he kept up steady streams of fire. The constant ripples and blue sparks erupting over his form told of strong shields. Strong, as in a whole lot stronger than the ones Magnus had the dubious honor of carrying around. However, they also told of him being targeted with a ridiculous amount of hostile fire.

Magnus had half the mind to tell the crazy fucker to get down, but soon saw the irrelevance of it. Even if he shouted, the combined noise of the impacting rounds and people screaming in pain would overpower his voice. Still, crazy or not, the Sun brought him the window he needed to lean above the wall again as his shields came back to life. He placed the stock of the Mattock against his shoulder for the second time before he targeted a Loyalist busy trying to whittle down the bigger Reformist's shields with a high-powered rifle.

A series of quick pulls on the trigger saw seven slugs travel against the man, the first five taking down the shields while the two last ones cracked his head open, causing red matter to spray over the ground behind him, as well as delicate, pink fat that was the brain. While utterly disgusting to watch, which was also why he didn't look too much at it, it was also deeply satisfying to take down one of the heavier hitters of the enemy. Not wasting his time, Magnus quickly re-aimed and chose a new target.

He could as well have been aiming at a corpse, for all the good he did at that.

Before he could even touch his trigger, a series of explosions rang out from the top of the room, as well as from most of the ceilings and the glass. Falling down behind cover, Magnus, as well as Sidonis and every other Sun, Loyalist or Reformist, in the room looked up.

And look they did, as what came next made his skin crawl with both awe and insecurity, as well as simply ecstatic trembling.

Through the roof, and the holes blasted in it by gunships, ten new HAS-mechs appeared, born in chains that carried them to the floor of the room. Everyone, friendly or no, scattered to remain un-squashed by the machines of war as they touched down. And yet, despite being HAS-mechs, there was something different about some of these new suits, something which was only made apparent when they joined the fray.

"Alright boys! Let's get cookin'!" He could hear the voice of one of the pilots yell in confidant tones. The suits set down with ground-shaking impacts, then rose up from their posture where their bodies and arms hugged their "knees".

Instantly, those of the mechs with thicker arms started firing at their enemies, but what was fired was not the simple ammunition of the HAS-mech that had served them so far. Instead, rivers of fire came gushing out like water from a faucet. Five of the mechs were equipped with these flamethrowers, and there was, and always had been one very overlooked weakness about both barriers and shielding, that they had little defense against temperatures in the thousands of degrees. The other five were the ordinary HAS-suits, starting to hammer out rounds at the opposition too far away to be effected by the fire.

The enemy scattered from the imposing mechs as their pilots could be heard shouting and laughing from within their suits. What was even more insane though, was that at least one of them would have had to have a human pilot.

Magnus doubted a Turian would play 'Ride of the Valkyries', very much so. And it was a kinda great plan. While it would inspire courage in the friendlies, it would often strike fear in the enemies. He had seen it work in an old movie, where the Americans had rode in on helicopters and played the music. Sure, they butchered a village, but the music had been the right choice.

Seeing as the new additions to their otherwise hammered forces were starting to make life easier for them, Magnus swept his sights over the heads of the occasional Loyalist who tried his or her luck with a rocket against the mechs. One had tried sending off the same propelled grenade towards the foremost flame-throwing HAS-mech, but was directed to hit the ceiling instead when a series of slugs from a Mattock, Magnus' Mattock, shattered the un-attending trooper's shields and ripped into her body. Instead of damaging the already besieged mech, the grenade hit and caused a few tiles to break from the ceiling and shatter when they smashed into the floor.

Almost as a 'thank you' to the Loyalists, said mech jogged to a low wall where a group of troopers were scurrying to get into cover. As they split into trying to get away, and trying to bring the pilot down in flames, the pilot returned the favor. With the sound of gas igniting, long waves of red and crimson fire washed out from the muzzles of the mech, and over the Loyalists. The first thing to go was the painting and the softer metals in the regulars' armor.

As the ceramics cracked and the steel went from dull gray to red-hot, the troopers stopped shooting and started screaming as they were boiled and burnt in their own armor. A few threw off their white-hot helmets as the glass started to melt into droplets and fall inwards, and the metal was glowing. Out came the screaming faces and unfiltered voices of men and women as their hair and skin caught fire, and fat and flesh fell from their faces. Blisters appeared and blistered the same moment they came to, causing the remaining skin to crack and fall in flakes. The curious thing, Magnus found, was that the attack itself only lasted a few seconds before the pilot moved on to his next targets. When the mech had stopped shooting fire, the flames had already caught hold of the sorry souls. In a futile attempt to lose the flames, the Loyalist troopers wailed and flailed their limbs in a bizarre dance of near-death. Sadly, that dance ended as the fire and pain overloaded their nervous systems, causing them to fall to the ground in a final moment of spasms before they lay still, and the fire kept eating at what was flammable, then snuffed itself out.

"Damn... bad way to go." He stated, watching as Sidonis gave the mechs a raised brow of worry.

"Yes... can't say I pity them though. They brought this on themselves, so I can't find it in me to feel sorry for them. Still, messy way, if nothing else." Sidonis said, then leveled his rifle at a Loyalist who tried escaping the flaming death. A short squeeze of his trigger sent a volley of slugs impacting into the shields of the Turian trooper, causing him to spin around and return fire at Sidonis. The short moment of changing attention though, caused the Loyalist to oversee- and hear the HAS-mech stepping up behind him. With a quick jab of the mech's hand, the three fingers snapped around the relatively small frame of the Turian body. As could be expected, the Turian screamed and flailed as the thick three-fingered mechanical hand closed around the Avian alien. A scream that was pain made sound was quickly cut off as a wet crunch signaled the snapping of the body. Having snuffed life from the trooper, the mech discarded the Loyalist by hurling him into the wall, the crunched and cracked armor allowing the corpse to pain the wall with blue smears.

"I have said it before, and I say it again: I really want one of those mechs." Magnus exclaimed as he watched the suit march onwards, towards a group of mercs readying a pair of ML-77 rockets. Magnus prepared to watch with glee when the suit tore the Loyalists a new one. However, as the pilot brought up his oversized rifle, the rockets were launched, a quartet of them streaking toward the mech. He didn't even get past the "oh shit..." before the first missile impacted and caused the blue barriers to flare up in an attempt to protect the suit and the pilot. The second caused the shields to flare and die in sparks as the suit tried to brace itself for the damage. Much like the first HAS-suit Magnus had seen, the suit brought up the arm and rifle to protect itself from the damage.

The third missile shattered the arm and the weapon as it hit, causing the limb to explode and shower the surrounding area with shrapnel and fire. The last missile went straight past the now missing limb and hit the cockpit straight-on. The graphene-protective shell covering the cockpit was shattered like a dry eggshell as the missile exploded. The missile carried the explosion into the cockpit where the pilot was burnt alive by the fire, then crushed by the shockwave and the torrent of shards of super-sharp graphene. In short he was killed in a quick, yet painful way.

The mech went on its knees as it stopped functioning, then fell forward on its 'face'. Magnus was, for a brief moment, stunned. Then, instead of the pilot falling out, a blue and dark gooey mass, like a pulp, slid from the destroyed cockpit. The smell of jellied pilot merged with the existing stench of fear, burnt flesh and piss when soldiers panicked.

"Still want one?" Sidonis asked as he harassed the rocket-wielding Loyalists with his Phaeston. His aim seemed to be at least on par with Magnus' as he took down one of them down with a series of slugs. No more than one projectile missed the target, hitting instead the wall behind him. The rest hit home and shattered the target's shields, then his torso's hardsuit and threw him back with a surprised scream. The rest of the group turned to shoot at Magnus, Sidonis and the mounted shooter. The latter seemed to care less than nothing, simply keeping up his shooting at the group.

"Come on! I can ta-" He was cut off as a heavy slug tore through his shields and his skull alike, spraying the contents of his head sideward, as the shot had come from the side. The man was thrown with the splatter of his grey matter, landing with a thud and a clatter of heavy armor next to Sidonis.

"Take cover!" He shouted, jolting for a set of crates that would provide cover for the both of them. Magnus wasn't far behind him, and slid into cover next to the Turian just as a new slug rammed the floor next to him. It tore up a large chunk of the concrete as it hit, causing Magnus to flinch as it happened to be less than an inch away from him, almost costing him a new finger.

"Fuck... well, that could have gone better..." He stated, pressing himself against cover while making sure his Mattock was still in one piece.

"Yeah... think we should check in on Tara and Aresh?" The Turian asked. Peeking around the edge of the crate, Magnus almost found himself on the receiving edge of a heavy slug that instead clipped the corner off the crate, causing a small trickle of grain to start pouring out from the hole.

"Yeah, yeah call them in. Maybe Aresh could give us some barriers." Magnus huffed as he made sure his feet wouldn't poke out from the cover. Sidonis nodded, the tapped his helmet;

"This is Operative Lantar Sidonis and trooper Magnus Olafur, requesting biotic support or a strike on designated sharpshooter seventeen-o' clock from the main entrance, about a hundred meters. How copy?"

"Operative Sidonis, this is HAS-suit 'Firebat'. Currently have a sight on your suppressor. Moving to engage, ETA: twenty seconds. Confirm."

"Confirmed." Sidonis called back, the removed his talon from the comms. He then turned to his comrade."

"Well... he's not Tara or Aresh, but a walking death-robot is better than nothing." Magnus said, trying to get view of said mech.

"Magnus said sarcastically" Sidonis mused.

"Sidonis said annoyingly" Magnus countered, a small scowl on his helmeted face as he got a visual on the mech on its way to batter and pound the sniper.

"Magnus said, sounding pissed" Sidonis said with a casual tone, his helmet hiding the smirk on his face.

"Seriously, stop that." He growled, looking at the Turian who was guaranteed to be smirking. The Turian perked his shoulders, not taking his eyes from the sight of the more robust, hulking form of 'Firebat' as the pilot walked his mech towards the now retreating sniper. It was either a human or a Batarian, as the form of the helmet would be the same.

Instead of the light form and frame of the regular HAS-suit, the 'Hellhound' was shorter, more stocky and packed a thick set of steel and titanium-encased tanks across the back and the arms.

"Sorry, thought you needed some lightning up."

"Because of the mech spewing fire, ha. ha. ha." Magnus just muttered, watching as the mech, while not being fast enough to run down the sniper, had forced him to flee from the rivers of fire pouring from the two hand-mounted flamethrowers.

"Sure, kill the comedian. Now come on, we're-"

"All forces, this is Captain Tara'Velan vas Ashantí nar Qwib qwib. We have cleared most of the facility and additional HAS-mechs are incoming for support. Clear the Atrium, then move to designated goal for further objec-" Tara's voice was scrambled then, sounding like a broken TV. Then, a new voice took over.

"Listen up you traitorous pigs! If you put down your weapons this moment, you will be allowed to surrender. If not, I'll burn you all alive!" That was definitely not a man who sounded happy. Sidonis gave a small chuckle, causing Magnus to raise a brow.

"Sounds like we have Santiago scared shitless. Now come on, let's go kill the fucker!" The Turian yelled with renewed vigor as he leaped over the cover and aimed his rifle at the first trooper his IFF-identifier labeled 'hostile'. Not letting up once he had peppered the man with slugs, the Turian continued on to a trooper about to execute a Reformist on the ground. A quick spray of slugs saw the man reel backwards as his chest was perforated with projectiles. Behind Sidonis Magnus just whistled at the display of raw blood-thirst Sidonis showed.

"And here I thought you were the pacifist..." He muttered, then closed the distance between them before he aimed to the left, ending a trooper armed with a Firestorm-flamethrower. Instead of aiming for the woman's head though, he simply shot the tanks, watching with grim glee as the woman started flailing in panic before the tanks went off, erasing her in a shower of meaty chunks that splattered over nearby soldiers.

He then aimed at a new one, but was beaten to it by a HAS-mech blowing up his target, as well as the ground around his target. The GAU-rifle really did kick ass, no denying that. Though, since it could wipe out a bunker with the heaviest ammo, it was not really a fair competition.

Fifteen minutes later, the remaining forces plus the new HAS-mechs had mowed their way through the last corridors, while frigates in the skies made sure no enemy reinforcements could arrive from elsewhere on the planet, as well as hackers making sure no outgoing communications could exit in the first place, making the initial safety measure a hopefully groundless concern.

"Ready to breach, this is it people!" Tara shouted as a HAS-suit of the 'Hellhound' type marched up to the secured bulwark. They had, at first, tried finding a way around it, but this time Vido had played it safe it seemed. There were no vents large enough for a rat to fit through, and out-blowing fans seemed to ensure no potential gas could be sent through the vents. In other words it would be the old-fashioned way this time.

At each side of the door, as well as behind the heavier mechs, the remaining twenty or so Reformists Tara had command over stacked up. All of them seemed, and were, ready and waiting. Sidonis looked over the crowd, but had no luck in finding Aresh.

"Breaching... concentrating flame..." The Hellhound said as it closed the distance to the sealed obstacle. Most of the regular HAS-mechs were either grey or a dull green, while the 'Hellhound' types were painted either red or yellow, giving off their use even on long distances. The mech in question had a flaming snake painted on its arms, as well as on the oversized gauntlets it used for spraying flames over the enemies. There wasn't any name written on it as far as Magnus could see, but it was probably something along the lines of 'fire-snake', or 'Jormund worm', 'snake-eater' or 'grilled snake'. It wasn't a dragon, so 'Nidhogg' was out of the question. He shook his head with a small smile as he watched and heard the mech start the breaching.

"Hey Boss-lady. What do we do with Vido when we get him? Quick death or the Bull?" The pilot asked while burning through the door. He was drawing long, fat lines of molten titanium as he went.

"The Bull." Tara's answer was flat of emotion, like someone forced to utter a despicable word. What exactly 'The Bull' was, Magnus didn't know, but the disturbingly satisfied chuckle coming from inside the suit was enough to make him ponder. Especially since he only knew of one thing named 'a Bull' and that was just a male cow.

They hadn't brought one of those to Zorya, had they?

"Almost through... ten seconds..."

At those words, Magnus gripped his rifle tighter, then made sure his shields were up and running. He saw most of the other Suns do the same as he, then turned to stand beside Sidonis as the mech finished cutting out a Yagh-sized opening in the bulwark.

"Hereeeeee's Johnny!" the pilot shouted as he marched through the hole. The sound of fire being poured from the muzzles merged with the deafening noise of weapons being fired and people screaming as they were eaten by the secondary concoction available to the Hellhounds: A potent mix of napalm and gasoline, making up for a loosely flowing, yet sticky flammable fluid that coated and killed anything it came into contact with. As soon as the Hellhound was through the breach, the rest of the mechs followed it inside, going to a crouch as they went through the hole, weapons hot in both meanings of the word.

Finally, when all but one mech had entered, the infantry moved in. Magnus and Sidonis sped through the hole, finding themselves in a landscape that looked like Nidhogg himself had been on visit, or Surt had wanted to play. Of course, neither existed, so it was just a fancy way of saying 'everything is on fucking fire!'.

And it was.

There wasn't a surface or a body that hadn't been coated in burning fluids of snap-eroded as they were burned away on the molecular level by flammable gasses. Everything was covered in sticky napalm that had yet to fully burn out, soot and charred material. Some of the Loyalists were still writhing on the ground as the flames ate at them, a few even calling to the Reformists for help. The only help they received was a bullet in the head, a mercy for those with excruciating pains and burns. This though, was apparently all of them, and thus they all received the bullet-medicine. A few were just mecha-stomped as well, the pilots not wanting to waste ammunition or fuel.

"You know... this is almost too easy." Magnus muttered as he ended a writhing soul with a quick tap on the trigger. Sidonis just walked by him, looking at the destroyed surroundings.

"Agree... just don't say it's too easy." He said, waiting for his human colleague to put a round into another head. Magnus, looking up from his bloody work, shrugged as he moved alongside Sidonis.

"Why not?"

"I've heard that sentence enough times before things went bad, to know that it means trouble saying it." The Turian muttered as he scanned the wrecked room for either survivors or Santiago. Neither were to be found, so he and Magnus moved on, following the blazing mechs as they fought their way towards the final room. According to the schematics uploaded in their HUD's, there was only that one final room left, hence that had to be where Vido was holed up.

"Right... you've got a point there." The human said as he walked next to the Turian, falling in amongst the ranks of the Reformists and the mechs. It was a sort of... humiliating experience, to Magnus, to be where history was potentially made, and get the chance to shape one of the most powerful mercenary organizations to a better version of itself.

What followed was another five minutes where they spent the majority of the time burning through the final bulkhead. As the Hellhound walked away from the door, a couple of Legionnaires stacked up next to the door. Apparently they didn't entrust it to the common soldier to take Vido alive for the 'Bull', whatever that was. So, like most other soldiers and mechs, he just watched as the leader of the breachers, Tara herself counted down from three to zero before kicking in the cut open entrance. What looked like a grenade was then thrown into the room, followed by nine separate flashes and cries of pain.

The team, with the female Quarian at the lead, then entered the room and shooting erupted. For a few moments after that, there was no sound from behind the door, causing Magnus' stomach to tighten unwittingly.

They had been the winners... right? Tara would never be killed or injured in the final moments. It was just so much unlike her. So, it couldn't happen. Magnus found he had to shake his head to get rid of the confusing and disturbing thoughts and worries.

And then, they emerged.

The corridor, the entire army linked in with helmet-cams, erupted in cheers and curses as the Legionaries dragged out the struggling, flailing and all-around pathetic form of Vido Santiago, leader of the Blue Suns Loyalists, betrayer of Massani and hirer of terrorists.

Tara went front, a smug smile visible even beneath her helmet, as she lead the formation forcing Vido through the corridors.

And Magnus had not felt thís alive for a long time.

...

Omega, same time

Blue Suns HQ

Jentha Haruno

"Someone get this shit working!"

Working for Tarak had some good sides, sure, but mostly it was working for a twenty-four/ seven pissed off Batarian who would shoot you for a good word. Jentha shared a look with her second-in command as they listened to Tarak fuming over the, to those two expected, lack of communications with Zorya.

Jentha knew what was going on, and had been both planning for it and looking forward to it, to when they would be redeemed once more. She had not spent the past year busying herself with cleaning out the Batarian Suns, only to have Tarak, the boss-man himself, evade her at this final moment.

God be great, his life would be hers.

She was standing by the door along with fellow operative Caleb Jordan. Both had hands on their guns as they locked the door to the command-room, leaving them alone with Tarak, current commander of Omega's Blue Suns. With a single nod, Jentha and Caleb started forward, approaching Tarak who had turned around to find someone to shout at.

What he found was a gun pressed under his chin, as well as the cold, cold eyes of Jentha staring him down.

"Jentha! What the fuck is the meaning of this?!" He shouted, rage and anger in his voice. But his eyes shone with fear and shock, as well as confusion that quickly became horrified understanding.

"Something I have been longing to do for the past four years. This..." She said, pointing her gun at one of his kneecaps before shattering it; "is for my father. My father whom you killed in cold blood. And this..." She said, stomping in his other knee; "Is for my mother whom you raped, robbing her of both honor and life. And this..." She said, pulling out a hot-blade, then let it hover above his eyes while Caleb held down the Batarian; "Is for the Blue Suns."

It was well that the room was sound-proof, or the Loyalists would have been warned about the impending massacre when they heard Tarak's pained screaming. And they would have heard it four times, as Batarians were indeed in possession of four eyes. Four nice, delicate, little targets a searing hot blade would gladly cut into.

...

Zorya

It was hours later, when all remaining Loyalists had either been put to the gun, or surrendered, that the main event of the revolution would, and did, take place. It would be something Magnus would look back on, in much the same way as the people who had attended the Nurnberg trials had looked back at that event.

"Vido Santiago. You are accused of betraying Zaeed Massani, co-founder of the Blue Suns. You are accused of sponsoring terrorism, organized crime, pillaging, rape, murder, robbery, back-stabbing, conducting terrorism, torture, extortion and vandalism. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Terus Ardenian was an imposing figure as he stood in full, scarred and scorched battle-armor, presiding over the paramilitary tribunal. The Turian looked a mixture between rage and pride, his hands gripped tightly around the edges of his plateau.

"Fuck you! Fuck you all! You can't do this to me, I'm too important to the Suns!"

Vido, on the other hand, was not a very impressive sight. Clad in only a pair of boxers, he was cuffed to his own chair as the entirety of the organization watched. It was not only those who were on Zorya, but every Sun in the galaxy was watching through the hovering cameras currently controlling the skies above Vido as the human stood as defiant as he could in the face of long-coming justice.

"If that is all the accused has to say in the matter..." Ardenian said.

"Fuck you scale-face! Your mother was a Krogan whore!" Vido shouted in rage. Still, rage or not, he was difficult to be scared off as he stood there with nothing but boxers on. Said boxers were respectfully blue and white, underlining the fact that the Suns had financed themselves by selling pretty much everything one could think off. Toothbrushes, ammunition, drugs, umbrellas, artifacts, you name it, they had been selling it.

Instead of offering Vido a response, Ardenian just stood more rigid, but with a steely gaze in his small eyes.

"Then what is the verdict?" The Turian asked, looking to his left where a few seats had been lined up, filled with high-ranking members of the Suns. As one, they stood, military efficiency in their movements. Of course, three out of four were Turians, so it was given.

"We find accused, Vido Santiago: Guilty on all charges." There was a certain glee to the man's voice as he uttered the last words, making Magnus suspect it was something he had been waiting to say for long time.

"Vido Santiago. You have been found guilty of all charges, and I hereby sentence you to death." The Turian commander said as he smirked towards the former leader of the Blue Suns. Even from where Magnus and Sidonis were standing, it was evident that Vido was shaking. It couldn't be the cold, since the temperature was twenty-eight degrees Celsius in the sun, and the sun was abundant. So, it had to be fear.

The out-going cheer, the roar of approval that arose from the crowds of Turians, Humans and Quarians, caused a chill to run down Magnus' spine. He found himself cheering along with the others, fists punching the air as the sentence was given. It sounded more like a concert with 'the Temptations' than a trial that had just produced a death-sentence.

A pair of guards dragged Vido off screen while the cameras, and Magnus now saw, the reporter carrying them, ran to follow the escort leading Vido away. It was strange, as he hadn't seen any reporters or civilian vehicles before now. He turned to Sidonis, the Turian in the process of fastening his helmet after he had waved it around like a flag.

"Sidonis, why are there reporters here?" He asked, glancing at the woman who seemed all too familiar, but he couldn't place her. Sure, he had seen his share of reporters, but she seemed familiar, not just recognizable.

"I know why, but not how. I think it's the brass wanting to prove to the galaxy that we won this shit. As for how she ended up here... beats me." The Turian shrugged.

Later that day, Magnus was introduced to something highly extraordinary. They were treated to a film showing Vido being gunned down by a squad of riflemen. And yet he knew Vido was still alive. When he asked what the big idea was, he was told it was because they had their own way of executing Vido, and that the galaxy just needed to know he was dead. The method would only matter to those crying about 'inhumane treatment'.

He found out why later, as Vido was led into a large room in the center of the Solar Invictus. It was the biggest ship in the Reformists Fleet, and the one that had carried the 'Bull'. And it actually was a bull, or at least a bronze-bull made to be the same size as a real one.

Hundreds of Suns were gathered around the arena-like center of the ship as the Bull was raised from a hole in the floor. Beneath it were some grates leading into the floor as well, though them being air-vents seemed unlikely.

As Vido was shoved towards the Bull, a Sun near it opened a hatch in the artificial animal, revealing it to be hollow. As the former leader saw the opening, it seemed he started to realize just what was going to happen. With a jerk, he bolted from his captor, intent on escaping his yet to be revealed execution. As he was halfway across the room, a shot rang out and his leg snapped forward as a slug went through it from behind. He fell to the ground to cheers and jeers, mocking laughter and cruel gestures. The air was filled with hatred and lust for violence, and if it wasn't going to be Vido's, they did have captives. A scenario Magnus wanted to avoid as he still wanted to talk to the woman. He wasn't sure why, but something made him interested in what she had to tell, of how Vido had run the organization.

He knew Santiago was a swine, but it was always better to be able to see things from both sides.

Vido was dragged weeping and screaming back to the bronze bull, then brutally shoved inside to the chorus of 'Bull, bull, bull' coming from the crowd. Whatever was going to happen with the bull, it demanded no mercy from the crowd.

"Bull!"

As the hatch closed, even over the crowd, Vido's cries and his banging on the inside could be heard.

"Bull!"

That was when Magnus saw a pair of flames starting to appear from the grates in the floor. They started out small, but slowly grew in intensity.

"BULL!" And with that final shout, the crowd went silent, and only the constant banging from the inside of the Bull could be heard, growing ever more frantic as they did. The banging and screaming suddenly started growing even louder as the fires started licking the sides of the bull, the screaming being one of deep agony and intense fear. For just a moment, Magnus felt a little bad about the scene playing out in front of him, but remembering the crimes Vido had committed, as well as the general bastard he just was, he soon forgot his qualms and instead watched in satisfaction as the Bull experienced a few tremors due to its inhabitant being in the process of being baked alive.

And the screaming...

Oh the screaming!

It was some of the most pained and terrified screaming he had ever heard, and he found each tone, each incomprehensible word and blabbered gurgle to send a chill down his spine, one of enjoyment. It was barbaric, sure, but it was also well deserved and had been a long time coming.

The bronze was starting to glow red in the lower parts, and the screaming was going from high-pitched to hoarse and choked. Magnus could feel his heart pounding away at the tribal-like mood in the room. Despite no one saying a word, he could almost hear their thoughts of rage and blood, their lust and want for seeing Vido's baked corpse when they finally opened the hatch again.

Out fell what had been Vido Santiago at some point. It wasn't a crisped corpse, but rather a stinking, bloated and disfigured mutilation of a human being.

But by Hell it was satisfying to look at, and when the body hit the floor, the room erupted into jeers and shouts. The mood was no longer one of rage, but of joy and satisfaction, of justice having been done.

It was thrilling and exhilarating, and Magnus could feel his blood heat up with the mood, his mood going to heights it hadn't been at for long. He wasn't sure how, or even why he suddenly found himself next to Tara, or how he had even found her in the crowd, but he knew something felt right when he picked her up and swung her through the air, laughing with joy the entire while.

Lowering her down again, he wrapped his arms around her body and hugged her. His cheek touched against her helmet, causing his heart to speed up. Before he could wonder as to the reason, she returned the embrace, pulling her head slightly back before resting the visor on his forehead. He could hear a soft sigh escape her, and smiled back, looking through the visor into her silvery eyes. It might just have been the spur of the moment, or it might have been something deeper, but he didn't care. He just enjoyed the feeling of her presence.

"We did it" He whispered, holding her close. She responded with a weak giggle, something which made her just adorable to be around.

"Yeah... we did, didn't we?" She said, not removing her visor from his forehead.

It was over... Vido's bloated and blistered corpse was being dragged from the room... and the Suns were reborn.

Codex Entry: HAS-Mech - Hellhound

The Turian military only ever deviced the HAS-mech from the AMP, but others saw the possibilities the new player had to offer. Eciplse-mercs saw the possibility in the new mech that it could resist huge amounts of damage. Sacrificing the speed of the light HAS-suit, the Hellhound is bulkier, more stocky and smaller. Instead of the GAU-90, the alternative suit carries around a pair of flamethrowers mounted on each hand. Two types of flammable fuel is available to the mech. One is gas-form of Hydrogen-Gasoline, while the other is a mixture of napalm and gasoline as well. These two types of ammunition enables the suit to carry out different tasks that either would be incapable of doing alone.

The Hellhound was first seen in action on Mindoir when slavers raided the colony in 2178, but it is unknown when it was first designed and constructed.

Codex Entry: Quarian intimacy - helmet on helmet.

Quarians, as they have been since their exile from Rannoch, are forced to remain inside their suits for the majority of their lives, only emerging when in clean environments and sterile rooms. Since Quarians is still a social race, they have evolved to show their feelings on the ouside of thye suit. Passionate touching is common among lovers, but a more often seen gesture of companonship is touching one's helmet to that of another's. This is the Quarian version of a kiss, but often misunderstood by other races.

Asari see this as just relaxing, while Humans see it as a sign of deep trust.

Turians however, recognize it as a gesture of intimacy, love or deep understanding from their own culture.

This is where I go "Daaaaumn!" This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and had some things I have been wanting to try out for quite some time. Writing about shooting an alien horde is easy enough, but writing about a firefight is a lot harder... beats me why though.

Also, I want to put it out there that this chapter took so long because I started watching Game of Thrones. I know, way, waaaaay too late, but I only just found it on the web. I plowed through 30 hours in four days, and ended up with a "WTF!?" in the last episodes.

A lot of you might know the series, and for those who haven't seen it yet, just review here and don't read further down :)

One thing that really made me flip my shit was the Red Wedding. Seriously, Season 1' finale had NOTHING on this!

Another thing that really broke me was how the relationship between a certain Wildling and a certain Snow played out in season 3. I just know/hope they will be back in Season 4.

Now, this is why I write this:

If, and I have been mocked with spoilers from the internet... if the series do the same thing as the books with a certain red-head, I swear to every single God, Goddess and Demon out there that I'll do a FF on how the arc could have been if that thing (the thing I won't mention) didn't happen. I am a huge Wildling/Snow shipper, and I want some actual happiness in this show for once, not the constant slaughter, lies, deceit and incest... although deceit and lies when they come from Tyrion are completely okay in my book.