Gods I have been looking forward to getting back to the actual story. So yeah, the early chapters have been rewritten and I am actually rather pleased with them now. Especially the Eden Prime section, something that once made me cringe each time I read it.

So yeah, again, we're back to business. The fight with Saren pretty much split the waters, with one side claimiing he was far too overpowered, and the other liking it as it seemed to set the stage for, and I quote because I found the sentiment rather awesome "there is an approaching, epic, agni-kai-esk head-to-head battle to the death!" Yep, that one made me smile.

Right, so before I put this one out... just remember two important aspects of my story.

1. I like all characters from the game. Even if I seem to hate them in the story, I love them all.

2. While I often dislike killing the cast outright, I have no issues maiming them.. Still, killing and death is kinda hard to avoid when stepping in this much danger and spiritual shit.

Well, enjoy, because this is a chapter I rather liked... Gods that sounds wrong in context.

Those we care for...

SSV Normandy

Deck 2. Captain's quarters, Mess hall and Med-bay.

02:27

"Get them in here. Oh God, this is going to take… get Alenko in here, I need his help. Someone bring out the rest of the bacta." Chakwas was in a blur of movements and words to those not understanding the finer terms of medical business. Of course, the meaning got across perfectly. Only moments later, a bruised and weary, but otherwise unharmed Kaidan Alenko entered the medical bay, sweat staining his uniform in the places where the rubber of the undersuit was still somewhat unharmed by the unnatural temperatures being near Saren had caused. Chakwas didn't waste time to direct him with words, simply gesturing for him to bring the gurneys in, holding those wounded but salvageable with the equipment in the med-bay.

Thomas felt his innards clench in a tight knot of fear as he saw the pale faces of his comrades being rolled inside the room, Tequila being the first to roll in. Her hair was messy and stained with blood, her eyebrows burned off and damaged skin decorating much of her face. She was, maybe fortunately, unconscious. The next to roll in was the Hispanic sergeant, James Vega. As opposed to Tequila, his eyes were opened wide and his mouth moving as if he tried to speak, yet no words came out. Even to someone untrained in deducing trauma, Thomas could see the man was in shock. And the corporal had no idea why.

"Get her through, she's losing blood." New voices called, and people moved out of the way to reveal the final gurney, this one causing Thomas to fly from the bed despite his own injuries. Roku had yet to return, and as such whatever injuries Thomas had been found with, including the bruised ribs and damaged organs, were still fragile. Yet, when he saw the people struggling to apply pressure to Ashley's limp form, he forgot about it all, his world going completely hazy, as if he had been drinking. Yet, Ashley on the gurney was sharp, clear in contrast to the rest.

He was caught and stopped by the hands of Kaidan, the lieutenant stopped him with strong, if careful hands from simply jumping at the people struggling against the flow of blood coming from wounds he couldn't even see. As one of the surrounding people moved, Thomas almost screamed, only stopped by Kaidan grabbing his shoulders, forcing him back onto the bed. Thomas wanted to scream still, almost did, until Kaidan reached behind his back, retrieved a stim and japed it into Thomas's neck. The world suddenly grew fuzzier, and he fell from consciousness.

Beneath the knee, Ashley's left leg was a mangled, bloody mess of molten plasti-steel, gore and bone protruding from burned flesh. Yet, despite the burned tissue, blood was still flowing from the massive injuries. The medics, Chakwas included, abandoned work on both Tequila and James in order to stop the bleeding. Had Thomas been able to see faces before he fell asleep, he would have seen the deeply troubled face on the old woman's face.

…

SSV Caucasus, 6th Raiding Flotilla

Bridge, command chair.

02:56

"Admiral, reporting that all ground forces have begun evacuating off the planet. We'll be able to shell the base in approximately one hour." Tanya said. Oleg Petrovsky looked up from the reports streaming in, a tired scowl on his face. He had lost almost one thousand of the five thousand men he had deployed to the attack, as well as more than twenty tanks. As for the jeeps… by some miracle, they hadn't lost a single one.

"Do we have enough gunships left for a complete evacuation in one tour?" He asked, looking at his lieutenant as she frowned, pulling up the reports to check.

"Afraid not sir. The geth shot down dozens of them when we came too close to concealed anti-air. We'll have to leave soldiers on the ground in the first round. Also, we… seem to have rescued a hostage." The obvious surprise in her voice caused the admiral to look up again, tired as he was. He hated night-time raids and after-action reports that took place night-time. The mind was always messy at that point, and while caffeine could restore stamina, the mind would still be clouded.

"Hostage? Someone was still alive down there?" It surprised him, though happy, that someone had not yet been made a husk down there.

"Yes… Asari Neuroscientist by the name of Rana Thanopsis. Apparently she… suffers from some trauma. Apart from her name, the marine-team didn't get anything from her, other than she had just gotten free."

"Where… did we take her on board the fleet?" Petrovsky asked, scratching at the unkempt beard that had started growing over his normal appearance during the time since he had been dispatched for Virmire. It wasn't much, but enough that it annoyed him.

"Hmm… that's the plan. So far they are still on the ground, keeping her safe." Tanya said, fighting to keep down a yawn. Despite regulations really going against yawning on the job, especially since they had been at it for more than twenty-four hours, through a naval battle and a planet-side invasion against geth, he didn't even consider commenting on it.

"Good job. Have the marines on site recover what intel they can from the base. Then once everyone is off-world, including those fallen in combat, we bombard the site and turn it into a lump of molten glass." Petrovsky said, rubbing his brows while standing as straight as the caffeine in his blood allowed him to.

"Yes sir." The lieutenant said, snapping to a salute.

Virmire.

Saren's base of operations. Topside.

03:34

"That's the last time I let you go that far, Thomas…"Roku muttered, feeling something eerily akin to a human headache thunder through his consciousness. He had already decided with himself that he was never going to let the blasted human take his powers to such lengths untrained, ever again. By the Master, he was starting to get a feeling for just what humans meant by headaches being 'little men in your head, hitting your brain with hammers'. Granted, Roku did not possess a brain per se, but he was still feeling the throbbing pain and agony normally associated with being hammered the day after.

"Thomas… I'm going to haunt your nightmares for this one…"He growled as his host refrained from answering. Actually, that was what caused the aspect of fire to grow uncomfortable, as his host being dead would mean his own soon-to-be unemployed status. There was not even any thoughts to pick up, which added to the worry that his host, and he had to admit, something akin to a friend, might be brain-dead from the overuse of powers.

To add to his worried, there was no light from the visual spectrum, and he could not see beyond his own void with just being there. He was going to have to use the human's eyes, tiresome as it might be.

At first, the world was grey, colorless clouds drifting by in a sky revealed in a grey color. It was soon replaced by the familiar green tint he saw the mortal universe with, and added a little to soothe his worries. Now, at least, he could see.

"Thomas, you need to get up. I suspect you do not want to be left behind." Roku also did not want to go through the logistical hellscape that was getting a new body for the host. When Thomas had been killed by Cerberus, he had had to get some way to repair and replace the entire spinal column. It had been tiresome, to say the least. Also it had taken a few days, and when he came to again, Thomas had been in the company of a completely foreign child. Jennifer Nilsdottir had been a surprise in and of herself, but the revelation that she was actually the prevented version of Jack, was enough to make the aspect silent. Children, was an aspect he had never been good at dealing with, hence why Mara never seemed to have forgiven him over the whole 'trick the Dragonborn into leaving Mundus' thing. Then again, she always had been so reserved, there wasn't really much difference to trace. The lower Council, on the other hand, had wanted his figurative ass for interfering in other dimensions than the Earthen Dimension. It was not his fault that Thor and Mjoll were so bloody gullible. Okay, so Akatosh pretty much wanted to use fire on fire at that point, but still. Way too sensitive, in Roku's opinion.

"Thomas, I can't feel your body… and I just realized how wrong that sounded." He muttered, forcing the visual view to alter, looking around with a physical eye. It was annoying, and he honestly had no idea how mortals made due without the eternal vision of an aspect. Still, there was no answer from the human, and Roku was slowly starting to get worried. Maybe he shouldn't have pulled that last stunt, but he really wanted to speed things up before Nazara got away… again, Master damn it.

"Thomas?" Still no reply, and the lack of sensations from the skin, something he knew was supposed to be there from obviously lying on the sand, caused him to look down, instead of into the skies.

Metal legs. Metal feet, metal legs, a metal chassis, a metal torso, a pair of metal arms with three-fingered metal hands attached to them. There was no flesh, no skin and no beating heart or organs. There were the dull lights of a synthetic body. Feeling a sudden, all-too mortal sense of fear, the aspect forced the physical body into a sitting position. He lifted up a hand, studying the three metallic fingers before letting out a growl. Only, instead of a human growl as he had gotten used to, it was the synthetic growl of a geth.

"Fuck me… This is why I don't do power-shares..." He growled, pushing himself up from the ground.

Great, so he was stuck in a geth platform now? Super, just perfect. This was why he hadn't shown off before now, because there had always been the risk that if he projected too much of his essence outwards, he could send himself, or part of himself slipping. He just hadn't thought he could end up in a geth.

"Well this sucks… what's next, the navy bombs this place or…" Roku stopped that train of thought as he realized thát was likely to happen. Ironic, really, that the very same way he would have destroyed Nazara, by destroying her physical form, could now bite him in the proverbial balls; "I should probably get out of here… or maybe…"

Roku stopped himself, or rather the platform that now held him, and turned on the geth's communications relay. A bonus to being temporarily stuck in a geth was that he probably could send a message of some kind to the Normandy.

Master, how fucking embarrassing. He, a divine being. The aspect of fire, was forced to call for a pickup. Considering the sender, the call might be denied altogether, the Normandy thinking it was a hacking attempt.

"Could me some slack, will you?" He muttered to no one in particular. Mostly because he had become used to arguing with his host whenever things went wrong. And he couldn't really argue with an empty geth platform; "Right… synthetic."

As suspected, and feared, the call was denied. The VI of the Normandy, probably coupled with either Presley or the pilot keeping their guards up, made it impossible for an apparent geth to send any sort of message.

"Great… sensationally perfect. I bet the others are having fun right now. 'Oh look at Roku, what a fool he was. He thought he could merge with a mortal and not end up buttfucked at the end of it.' Yep, they are going to laugh… I bet-" He ranted, unaware of the fact that he was walking in circles until he was brought from his stupor by rounds slamming into his chassis.

"Master fucking dammit! What now?!" He cursed, spinning to look at where the attack had come from.

A team of Alliance marines was shooting at him, luckily not doing a good job of hitting now that he was actually avoiding their attacks. Reduced to trying not to get hit by small-arms… Kalros is never going to let me live this down.

"Take it down, take it down!" The humans were shouting, believing their were shooting at a regular geth. Divines, gods and whatever else colleagues he didn't bother cursing, why was it always him the bad shit happened to?

Stumbling as he was hit on the side of his flashlight head with a round, Roku snapped towards the marines again, holding out a fist. Why he hadn't thought of this as the first thing, he didn't know. Fire, or rather spiritual fire, pulsated from his… no, from the platform's palm, burning the slugs before they hit him any more. It then coated his entire… body. His body… that was a strange term for him.

"Would it be too much to ask that you not shoot at me?" Roku asked, not bothering more than a little with shrugging off the incoming slugs.

Yet, the firing continued. Apparently it would…

"Stop shooting you incompetent sacks of flesh! Or curse me I shall burn your skin from your bones!" He shouted, annoyed that it came out filtered, even if it held the same force it used to. Still, it got the job done. Sort of. While they stopped shooting, they turned and ran instead.

"Humans… so boastful until they find God… well, one of us…" He scowled, looking at the fleeing mortals. "I suppose I have to stop them from leaving me behind…" With a scoff, he took off, screaming through the air as trails of fire left the sand as glass in his wake. Another thing he noticed was that he couldn't sense Nazara on the planet anymore. Whether it was because of his condition of because the Reaper had left Virmire, he didn't know.

"It's gaining on us!"

"Shoot it!"

"No, fucking run!"

"Stop you pitiable mortals! Had I wanted you dead you would be ashes now!" He bellowed, soaring past and in front of them, setting down the platform a few meters before the horrified marines. To their credit, they didn't fall to their knees in terror. Okay, so one did. It was to be expected. Still, none of them seemed to have left enough guts to utter a single word. One of the soldiers seemed to contemplate shooting again, then thought better of it and just resigned himself to what he most likely thought his death.

"God have mercy!" One of them stifled a cry as Roku took steps towards them. It was really weird, knowing they feared him, not Thomas whom they would have otherwise thought to be a demon. The memories the human had from Teltin had been occasionally entertaining, considering how even the staunch Miranda Lawson had been terrified.

"Yes well he can have all the mercy he wants." Roku continued, though he took care in keeping his voice somewhat lowered. He couldn't well get off-world if his transport had a heart-attack or three.

"It talks! Geth don't talk!"

"Geth don't do biotics either Alex. Look how that fucking turned out. Oh God, we're gonna die." The apparent leader of the team exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear.

"Then it would be a safe assumption that I am no geth, would it not?"

"I- I- I- I sup…suppose." The words came out as if they were the utterance of a death sentence.

"Good. Now, I need to get some transportation off this planet. Preferably to the SSV Normandy, if you feel generous."

"Wha- What are… what are you?"

"More than you can ever fathom. Now, would you be so kind as to assist me in returning to the Normandy? I have a feeling I am missed."

Faryar system, Hourglass Nebular

BSV Scorpio.

Deck 1. Bridge, CIC, Mess hall, medical bay, gunnery and crew quarters.

21:12 (ship time)

"Are we there yet?"

"No..."

"Are we there yet?"

"…No?"

"Are we there now?"

"For spirits' sake Magnus, I said no!" Sidonis growled. To Magnus, it was obvious that his Turian friend lacked something called pre-action humor. They were slumped in the mess hall, a deck of Turian King-Fish spread out over the table, Magnus having a hand he suspected was good. Though, as it was his time playing this particular game, he really had no idea. Good thing they weren't playing for money, or he would have suspected Kittles of cheating. Brian Kittles, also known as 'Kettle', was one of the two HAS-mech pilots for the pair of mechs standing in the hangar.

He called it "Suzie" of all things. British people were weird…

"It's called humor, Sidonis. Humans do it all the time…" The Brit said, then glanced at the Icelandic; "Although… it's mostly with children."

"Ouch… burn." Tuara Akair said, stifling a laugh at the stare Magnus sent her. He just huffed, telling himself that it would be a bad thing to threaten their medic before a mission. Hence why the Turian woman was not on the floor. Also, she reminded him far, far too much of Joker. Or, maybe if Jeff had a baby with Garrus and… He shuddered, shoving the image from his mind. That was not something he wanted to think off right now. Or, ever really.

"Laugh it up, will ya." He scoffed, looking back down on his cards.

"Believe me, I'm tempted to." The Turian replied, flaring her mandibles wide in a Turian grin. Odin's balls, he was annoyed by all that smirking she did. For normal Turians, you might see them spread their mandibles in grins a few times a day. Tuara, or Tatra, as Hayfield called her, was just smirking and grinning far too often. Also, it was mostly on the cost of Magnus's dignity she did it.

Hayfield, or since he wanted to be called by first name, Gregory, was one of the veterans of the Suns. Back, before he had joined, Magnus had the understanding that he and Tuara had some sort of history. Yet, he didn't bother asking, seeing as he if anyone knew why you'd keep personal history personal.

"Can we get back to the game please? We still have a few hours to kill before we reach orbit, and I'd rather not go into a potential trap knowing I could have won at least one last game of King-Fish." Corus Voluntus, a Turian veteran of the First Contact War and one of the older members of the crew, growled. At least there was someone less socially capable than Magnus himself, considering that he himself preferred to knock people who annoyed him out… unless of course they happened to be the single combat-medic on the crew. Voluntus was a scarred ex-member of some sort of Turian recon division, and as such was always tinkering with his cloaking devices, making sure they worked when he needed them. Magnus was, for reasons he was uncertain of himself, not surprised that the Turian opted to use a V5 Mantis sniper rifle. It seemed everyone did, even though the Viper could send out slugs at a higher rate.

"As if you'd win. I have… I think, maybe… fuck, I really have no idea if my deck is any good." Magnus growled straight back, trying to figure out if he had something worthwhile on hand. He guessed a Primarch with a bazooka-looking weapon would be a good thing, but it had a lower number than the one with a scroll. Damn alien games. What was wrong with Poker, or… well, just Poker?

"Be glad we're playing for fun, or you'd be forced to sell your hardsuit before we land." Tuara snickered, slapping three alike cards on the table, a pair of scroll-bearers and a Turian general; "Beat that one."

"Easy" Voluntus said, slapping down three Primarchs. Low numbers or not, the hand made Tuara scowl. Voluntus then looked at Magnus, as if challenging him to have a better hand. Having no real idea, he simply slapped down what he suspected were his three best cards. There was a moment of silence, only broken by Voluntus growling. Brian Kittle shook his head, only serving to confuse Magnus even more.

"What?"

"You just beat the living crap out of Corus' hand. Three Unification Primarchs are way better than three Council Era ones. Still…" The Britt said, slapping down his own hand; "Doesn't beat this one."

"Fuck me sideways… How do you always end up with the Councilors, Kettle?" Sidonis muttered, putting down his own hand, a pair of Turian Generals and a Unification Primarch, on the table.

"Call it luck, cheating or just skill. Whatever makes you feel better Sidonis." The HAS-pilot shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he fished out a toothpick. Oddly enough, with the manners portrayed, Brian would have been the first one Magnus thought a smoker. Yet the Britt insisted on never smoking, said he needed a clear head for driving 'Suzie' around.

"I go for cheating then." Tuara muttered, idly tapping the visor in her own helmet. A pair of red crosses, the post-314 universal sign for medics, were depicted on both the front and the back of her hardsuit. As opposed to the rest of the crew, she didn't have a lot of weapons strapped to her back. Instead, her unloaded Katana-shotgun rested on the floor beneath her feet, her weapon of choice aside from the standard firearm that was the trooper-issued M-3 Predator handgun. Magnus would have preferred a Carnifex, but when you were basically a merc, a criminal, you took what you could get.

Even if he was fairly certain the Suns were working on changing that image. Knowing just how often the Normandy crew ended up in fights with pirates and mercs, he really didn't want to risk a ending up in a firefight with people he had once considered close friends. Also he was fairly sure Wrex would just snap his neck if thát ever came to pass. Or blast him, up close, with that big shotgun of his.

Yeah, not really something he wanted to think about. And yet, the risk was there as long as the Suns were still seen as criminals. Organized criminals, but criminals still. He sighed, blowing air through his lips, into his hair as he shoved out the less merry thoughts. A finger idly tapping on his armored chest, he pushed his cards towards the middle, waiting for Sidonis to reshuffle them.

What felt like hours later, and was, the BSV Scorpio started an orbital circulation of the Planet Daratar, scouting out the silent base from orbit, rather than just sending people down there blind. That had been a tactic of the old Suns, after Vido betrayed Massani. The new Suns were a bit more cautious when it came to deploying their people.

It just so happened that the scans conducted with the ship's sensor-arrays paid off. As the last results came in, Tara'Velan had called for the entirety of the ground-team on shift, to meet in the hangar, as it was the single largest room on the ship.

"We might have found the reason for the silence of this base." Tara began, making eye contact with each member of her team as she paced the floor, her hardsuit and armored realk already in place and ready. When Magnus felt her eyes lock with his, he became slightly uncomfortable, not knowing if Tara knew that he knew what she wanted. To be honest, he'd rather she did not.

"Scans have revealed a few things of interest. First, there are no Blue Suns signatures down there. Not the old ones, nor the new ones. Second, there is an unidentified frigate parked approximately five kilometers from the base. It's of human make, but aside from that we can't get any information without active scans. Which would reveal us, in case you were wondering. Also, we have multiple life-signs in the base, all human. Scans so far have picked up seven of them, though more could be hidden from the scans. We don't know."

"Well that's a bummer… though, only seven?" Magnus whispered to Lantar, as they were standing next to each other. Behind them, 'Kettle' and a Turian Magnus did not know, were leaning forward in their mechs with the cockpits open. Both looked excited to get into real action again.

"Could be scavengers…" The Turian offered, though he seemed more intent on keeping his attention on Tara.

"From what we could discern from the scans, their frigate seems to possess high-end weapons, meaning they are unlikely to be simple scavengers. Best guess is Eclipse, though humans-only teams are rare. The Scorpio will set down five miles from the base, unload the ground team and resume a position in orbit." Tara continued.

"Five miles on a low-grav world? A moonwalk is what it's going to be…" Magnus muttered to himself, remembering his brief training on Luna Base. There'd been an abrupt end to that training when the VI responsible for providing them with enemies decided to pull a HAL and start killing the marines on the base. After what had seemed hard at the time, but had been easy compared to later missions, Magnus, Jane and a few other members of the N7-program had managed to shut down the VI. As in 'shot' down the VI.

"Any questions?" Tara asked, pulling Magnus back to the matter at hand. Damn, he had to get better at paying attention. The same issue had cost him the last rank in the program. You'd think he had overcome thát particular weakness. Obviously, that was not the case.

"Rules of engagement in case contacts are hostile?" One of the Suns asked.

"…Take at least a few prisoners. We want to know what happened to the garrison." Tara said, not straying from her commanding stance at the front. There was consenting murmurs and nods, and the troopers set out to gather what gear had yet to be secured. Pilots fine-tuned their mechs, rifles were re-sighted and ammo blocks were checked.

"So… you mentioned a trap?" Magnus asked as Voluntus was next to him, adjusting the micro-computers and chips needed for his cloak to function.

"For there to be only seven contacts down there? I'd say either more are hiding, or we're dealing with commandoes. Honestly I don't know which I prefer." The older Turian muttered, inserting one of the modules, in appearance similar to a shield-module, into his armor.

"I prefer plenty of low-level goons, if you don't mind. Commandoes you never know with. Goons on the other hand, they just tend to bulrush you." Magnus offered with a shrug, slipping his own Katana onto the small of his back, waiting for it to fold up before he let go of it, picking a Viper rifle from the stocks. Small ship or no, it had good stock, and he aimed to make use of it. He then grabbed his Mattock, the weapon he had acquired on Zorya, and clasped it onto his back as well.

Finally, sliding his M-3 Predator into its holster, he nodded, satisfied with his gear, grabbed his helmet and made a beeline for the rest of the troops as they waited for the impending shudder the touchdown would produce. Then, they waited, an eerie silence having settled over the group as they each started to contemplate the fact that they might not be returning from this mission. A fact that was always present.

The shudder was not big as he had expected, but still sent a chill up his spine when it was then followed with the hangar opening. As the door was fully opened and stopped, the mechs were the first to move, engines roaring to life before settling for a quieter hum. They stomped down the ramp, even as the rest of the troopers, with Tara at the lead, marched between the flanking machines, weapons held relaxed as there was a good distance to cover.

The air being breathable, Magnus opened his seals and inhaled the air. While breathable, it was a lot drier than what he remembered from Earth, and caused his eyes to water a bit until he adjusted to it. He drew in a long breath, sighed and then followed the thirty other Suns as they marched for the base.

While it had been late night on the ship, the sun was just now starting to rise on this side of the planet, providing the troopers with an, if not appreciated, then at least warming view of the sun as Faryar shone down upon them. This was one more reason he liked their hardsuits. The white and blue colors helped reflect a lot of the heat that would have otherwise made the walk unbearable. And with them having a pair of heavy mechs, there was really no point in trying to sneak.

"You know… this kinda reminds me of the Mojave desert." Magnus said, simply to make conversation with whomever bothered to pick up on it. He knew Tara wouldn't, she was too far ahead.

"Really? How?" Kyle Tremaine asked from next to him as the sniper walked at a relaxed pace, seemingly enjoying the leg-stretching. And Magnus had to admit, getting to stretch his legs on a world with comfortably low gravity was rather nice. Especially after Odin knew how long he had spent on the ship, stuck within those same few square-meters of protection from the void.

"Spent a week on training there once. Whole group was camping out in the sand… dirt, whatever you wanna call it. Then, and this was a few years back mind you, Jonas Eidell started complaining about an itch on his back. A few hours later we found out he had a small, brown scorpion on the insides of his uniform. The guys went paler than snow." Magnus said, resisting the temptation to say that Jonas had been picking on him for days beforehand, specifically on the subject of being afraid of scorpions.

"So?"

"Yeah well, the guy fainted on the ground, squashed the critter and didn't die. Still, was more referring to the heat and the sand and dirt than the wildlife… seeing as there isn't a wildlife to speak of." He scoffed, tapping his fingers along the side of his rifle.

"Huh… right." Tremaine said. After that, they continued in silence. There really wasn't much to be said, and the impending feeling of maybe walking into an ambush killed the desire to chat with Sidonis. Odd, now that Magnus thought about it. Whenever he referred to or thought about his Turian friend, he used his last name, not his first.

It was a bit like most of the crew had referred to Jane as 'Shepard'. To be perfectly honest, he had not thought thát particular aspect of the team would have made it into reality. It just seemed too default to call someone by their last name, no matter the relationship you had with them. Magnus himself had never understood it, and thus had never called her by anything but her rank, in the early days, or her first name. A hand went to his helmet, touching above where his face had been scarred by the Turian knife.

It was a reminder, if anything, of the start of his new life. From Alliance sergeant to Blue Suns mercenary.

It was quite the change in career, he had to admit that. Shaking his head, he kept up with the rest of the formation, occasionally glancing at the mechs flanking them, heavy rifles brought to bear and ready. If they somehow clogged, he knew it would be either his or Sidonis' fault, depending on whether it would be the ammunition getting stuck or the rifle itself jamming.

After half an hour of trudging through sand or skidding across the charred dirt of the planet, they came upon a ridge, adorned with large cliffs and boulders that could provide decent cover in case of a firefight. The cliffs were circling the main compound, a sort of natural coven to provide cover for the base. Of course, it was only cover from seekers without orbital perspective, as the radars only failed to pick it up when low to the ground. Ships in space, like the Scorpio most likely was now, could easily see it.

"See anyone?" Magnus asked in a hushed tone as the scouts returned from the cliffs. Tremaine, Boris and Nassir came back down, Voluntus following in a calm gait soon after as he came into view from under his cloak. That was a new thing for Magnus's list of badass things he wanted. A HAS-mech and a cloaking device.

Voluntus ignored him, being the leader of the scout team. He turned to Tara'Velan who, being the commanding officer on the Scorpio, was their official commanding officer in the field as well.

"A vehicle. Human make, probably Alliance, but no markings. We didn't see anyone around. Either they have progressed into the base interior or…" The Turian explained, casting thoughtful glances over his back, towards the compound.

"Or?" Tara asked, speaking for what was probably on everyone's minds.

"Or they know we're coming. That means they are hiding. And if they are hiding…" Voluntus said.

"Most likely they want to ambush us when we head down." Tara finished for him. The Turian nodded, keeping a respectful stance while Tara seemed to mull things over. Occasionally she would look up, either at the troops or at the cliffs between them and the compound. Magnus, as well as the rest of the force, didn't bother moving. Rather just remain vigilant in case of a counter-attack.

After a few minutes, the HUD's in their helmets signaled a gathering, and they massed at Tara's position, standing around her in a tight circle. If they could avoid using the comms, considering the possibility of someone listening in, they would simply converse normally. Seeing them all gathered, the Quarian woman brought up her Omnitool and projected a holographic map of the area in 3D.

"Here's the plan. We don't know where, or if the contacts are in the compound. We'll split the force up in four teams, with the sharpshooters making up the first team. They'll provide cover from the ridge. Team two and three will be the rest of the troops split up in two teams, where team four will consist of the mechs for heavy support." While she was talking, Tara was gesturing for routes the different teams were to take, or places they should hold. Magnus found himself surprised that she was a tactician as well, though he figured it shouldn't have been a surprise, with how she was leading a force of thirty men and women into battle.

"Questions?" She asked, looking at the men. When none spoke up, she nodded, waving her own tool in front of them. Instantly, Magnus received a blip, as well as a message marking him as 'team three'. He was then shown on the HUD where the rest of the team members were, and joined them.

As the signal was given, the sharpshooters took up positions at the cliffs, the mechs right behind and ready for a vertical drop from behind cover. The HAS-mechs really were sort of awesome, being able to handle both punishment and being light enough to jump from heights. Element Zero probably had a hand in it though. After a few minutes, the next signal was given and the teams moved around the cliffs, circling the compound in a pincer-move. No trouble or contacts made themselves known as the teams rejoined in the middle of the compound, leaving the team-leaders, Sidonis and a human woman Magnus didn't know the name of, to stand around, waiting for new orders.

"Suns Strike Force 1, this is Scorpio. We…eh, we are picking up several contacts encroaching on your position from the south, how copy, over." The message went through loud and clear, everyone receiving the same words in their helmets.

"Scorpio, this is Captain Velan. Numbers?" Tara's voice called back through the comms. Meanwhile, the two teams made themselves scarce, taking cover amongst the rocks They formed a circle, no one bothering to glance back as the two mechs joined them, heavy rifles at the ready towards the south.

"Just a moment… Captain, we're picking up at least fifty unknowns. Advice you make ready for possible hard contact."

"Bosh'tet! Affirmative Scorpio. Keep in touch." Tara swore back, then the line was terminated; "You heard them. We've got incoming unknowns from the south. Lock and load, check your aim and watch out for the person next to you. Nobody dies today!"

"Roger that…" Magnus muttered, yanking the Mattock up and over the rocks he was crouching behind. Looking to his right, expecting the Turian there to be Sidonis, he grimaced when he noticed the red crosses on the female Turian's armor. Tuara seemed to have caught his eyes, even though her dark visor.

"Keep it together Olafur. I don't bother with teasing when we're about to get shot at."

"Works for me." He said, nodding a reluctant thanks at her before turning his eyes back at the horizon. It took several minutes before he saw the possible enemy. Though, when he did, he felt like his stomach just took a twist through the sewers. If, that was even a real thing.

Dozens of bulky, armored bodies were suddenly visible across the compound, every single one armed and armored with way more expensive gear than what even the Legionnaires in their midst were toting. Mattocks and long-range rifles were aimed at the Blue Suns troopers. Clipped yelps and curses were heard through the comms as the snipers on the ridge, the snipers supposedly out of danger, were forced to a stand by de-cloaked soldiers.

"Suttung's morning wood!" Magnus cursed as he saw one of the bulky soldiers shove Tara, Voluntus and the rest of the snipers down the hill, keeping weapons aimed at them at all time. He didn't fail to notice how the trooper seemed particularly determined to keep Tara and Voluntus under weapons' aim. Seeing his commanding officer being forced down the hill with a gun at her back, caused Magnus' blood to boil, an anger he hadn't expected threatening to… he wasn't sure what, but it would be stupid.

"Velan! What the hell just happened? There are contacts all-" the slightly panicked voice of the XO, Velan Harius, came through the comms until it just ended, like a hardwire-connection that had been cut. Obviously, the Suns had massively underestimated these people.

"Get your Det Kazuat hands off of me you Me'ezenk Bosh'tet!" Even from this distance, Magnus could hear Tara pour forth a string of swear-words he wasn't even aware of existed, much less understood. Still, the meaning was well carried. He looked from Tara, unable to keep himself restrained much longer, and to the rest of the teams. The bulky soldiers had moved in, rifles aimed at the troopers while the mechs had several laser-marks on their cockpits. Inside, he could vaguely see Brian 'Kettle' trying to pick whether he should start shooting or just surrender. Either way was a good chance at being killed, Magnus wagered. Especially if those lasers came from high-power rifles.

"Damn… didn't even get to shoot one…" Tuara growled from next to him, her hands clutching her shotgun. No one had ordered them to surrender yet, so there was no reason to stop aiming his rifle at the advancing soldiers. He couldn't see Sidonis anywhere.

"Ma'am, we've got their leader." The man holding Tara restrained said. It wasn't until now Magnus realized two things. One, Tara was actually being bodily held against the armored frame of the soldier. And two, said soldier was wearing Phase-II armor… no wait, it was different. Greyish white, and much heavier than the Phase-II. Both served to piss him off even more. The first, because someone was manhandling Tara. The second, because they were either Alliance personnel, which essentially meant the Systems Alliance was a shithole full of shitheads, or they had stolen the armor from the Alliance.

"Good job Kraken. Make sure she doesn't pull any tricks." A new voice, a female voice said. Magnus snapped around, looking for the source of the voice. He found it, in the form of a woman, armored in a modulated version of the Phase-II, walking towards them, towards Tara, on high heels. Magnus squinted his eyes as something about the voice was… familiar. She was wearing a helmet, so there was no facial recognition. On her chest, now that she was closer, he saw a vaguely familiar symbol. It had been on the walls in one of the bases they had once raided, on a moon or a planet. He couldn't remember where, just that they had found all sorts of sick experiments there.

"Roger that." The soldier said, continuing to force Tara, the woman constantly trying to kick him in the shins, down the slopes. Magnus couldn't understand half the words she spewed, but even he could feel the venom and rage in them. Gods, she was worse than Wrex when drunk. And possibly pissed as well. Meanwhile, the apparent leader kept a confident walk towards the Quarian, behaving like she was in a fashion-show, complete with swag of hips and a hand resting upon said hips. It was kinda obvious that she didn't feel any need for caution.

"So… Tara'Velan vas Qwib Qwib." The woman said as she stopped in front of the obviously fuming Quarian. It was clear that had Tara not been held by a man wearing what appeared to be a set of power armor, she would have pounced the woman.

"It's nar Qwib Qwib, you Cerberus Bosh'tet!" Tara growled, the hate audible, even had Magnus been deaf. The fact that he wasn't, meant he picked up the word 'Cerberus', in her sentence. Right, that was the group. Now he remembered who had owned the base they had raided back then. Cerberus. Human xenophobic supremacists and terrorists.

What the flying fuck were they doing here?

"Whether it is nar or vas, is not my interest. Tell your people to stand down." There was a smirk, a cruel smirk, in the woman's voice. She knew she had them by the balls, the women too. Magnus could hear Tuara growl next to him, sounding like a crocodile more than an avian creature.

"Or what? I know what you ar-" She was cut off when a soldier trailing next to the woman kneed her in the stomach. So, no polite conversation then.

"Wrong answer. Now, tell your men to stand down." The woman said, not even sounding like she bothered with killing Tara. It seemed like it was beneath her, with a Quarian. Bitch, was all Magnus could think. Thát, and how many ways he wanted to kill her in. He briefly wondered if it would be possible to get the bull from the Solar Invictus, but then again, that would require two things. First, they needed to be alive. Second, they needed to win. Also, third, he had to be asked how they were going to kill her.

"The Suns will not bow to you, Fucki-" A new knee caught her in the stomach once more, causing her to reel and throw up in her helmet.

"FUCKING BASTARDS!" Magnus shouted, starting to point his rifle at the woman in charge. Almost instantly, red dots appeared on his chest. He didn't see them though, only how Tara was bending over, the sounds of her suit struggling to keep up with the contents of her stomach being emptied into her helmet. About to press the trigger, he found his weapon forced down, by Tuara no less.

"Don't. You'll end up dead and they won't." She growled, yet it was not hate, like at the Cerberus personnel. It was a more berating kind of growl, and… why was he even thinking about this? The Cerberus Bitch had just kneed Tara in the stomach, and now Tuara wanted him to just look?

"You want me to just-" He started, considering if he should punch her to get her to stop interfering.

"I want you to stay alive. It's my job to keep you alive, lest you forgot about that part. We'll get them, but for now they win." She hissed. What she said, it was logical. Still, with his blood boiling like was he Surt himself, he was having a hard time listening to reason and logic.

"I will kill her." He said, surprised at the sudden calm in his voice. Tuara nodded but otherwise said nothing. At the slope, Tara had started gasping, a signal that her stomach had emptied itself sufficiently.

"I'm going to ask again. If you refuse, we'll start executing your men." The cold woman said, slowly gazing over the surrounded troopers. Her eyes settled on one Magnus actually recognized, Gregory Hayfield. With nothing but a gesture, the sniper was hauled up front. Magnus now suddenly found he had to force down Tuara's weapon.

"The fuck are you thinking?" He hissed at her. For a moment, it looked like she would hit him. Then she looked back up at Gregory, then down to her shotgun before she simply shook her head and lowered the weapon. At least she was more reasonable than him, Magnus realized. They both, along with every trooper in the compound, watched with silence as the Cerberus leader pointed a handcanon at Gregory's head. Helmet or not, a gun that size would just punch through. Odd, since Cerberus was supposed to be pro-human.

"Stand down." The woman said. Tara looked between Gregory's kneeling form, her men, and the woman with a gun at the former's head. For a long moment, Magnus wondered if the woman would simply pull the trigger.

"Men… stand down…" Tara finally muttered, though it was loud enough that Magnus could hear it.

The sounds of weapons being dropped to the stony ground was heard for a few seconds, as well as the mechs placing their rifles on the dirt as well. Had they dropped them, the guns could have started shooting from the tremors alone. Magnus wondered if his grinding of teeth would end with them shattering as he himself dropped the Mattock in his hands.

"Smart choice." The woman said. Magnus wanted to tie her to a chair and deep throat her with a cactus… or a really thorny stick. He knew he recognized her voice from somewhere, but he just couldn't place it. Knowing who she was would at least gain him a little ammunition. Most members of Cerberus, he knew, had semi-normal lives outside the organization. Revealing their ties would be like revealing the pope to be an Islamist. Effectively shutting down their lives. He glared at the woman as she ordered her men to round up the Suns. Even if her words of choice didn't involve the name of the organization. It was… somewhat lower in esteem than 'Blue Suns'. As he watched the bulky suits infiltrate their numbers, Magnus still had no idea who the woman was.

Only that he was going to make her pay for hurting Tara.

Yep, Magnus definitely hates Cerberus now. Taramancers will either hate or love what happened here. I think...

Well, hope you enjoyed it :)