Okay so ordinarily I'm of the opinion that people who give trigger warnings are massive fucking pussies, but in this instance I would genuinely feel kind of bad if some of you with weaker stomachs went into this without at least a heads up. To not put too fine a point on it. This gets gory, like. I'm not entirely sure what constitutes squick but I feel like this is pushing it. So if blood, gore, and descriptions thereof make your stomach do the wiggly's. This is advanced warning that you might just wanna sit this one out. For the rest of you. Hope you enjoy

-Dark

It hadn't taken me long to return back to the ship after my exchange with the Turian. After a night of restless sleep, I had stepped into the former cargo bay turned armory, and immediately set to the task of arming myself.

Most species are remarkably easy to kill once you learn how.

There are commonly shared weaknesses of course. Suffocation, bleedout, burning, head trauma. But each race has their own specific weaknesses. Did you know that Turians are especially vulnerable to electrocution, more so than the other races? Turns out a metallic carapace has its drawbacks.

Did you know it's actually quite easy to starve a Krogan? Their numerous anatomical redundancies mean their caloric needs are almost three times greater than any other sapient species. Their bodies will literally start tearing themselves apart for nutrients inside of a week and a half.

Why am I saying all this? Well, Like I said before. Most species are a lot easier to do in than most would guess. And so the assortment of killing implements I had assembled might have been classed as just the slightest bit overkill.

Not that I cared of course.

Each weapon had been a labor of love. A project of many long weeks and months to create tools best suited to my needs. There was my knife of course. Though some might have raised an eyebrow at my classing it so. A foot long blade of well shaped damascened steel. Double sided and Kept to a fine and well honed edge . It had been one of my first great triumphs with manipulating metal through the Asura path. I had created other and better pieces since. But I still held a special liking for it. Like an artist unable to rid themselves of their love for their first and most amateur painting.

I strapped the weapon to my belt as I held up my next choice of weapon.

It was a boxy, inelegant piece of work. A result of experimentation into just how far one could push personal arms. Mass accelerators are a weaponization of the principles of the mass effect and its interaction with objects. Taking a sand grain sized pellet, and using the power of physics defying bullshittium to accelerate it so fast that it impacts with the force of a rifle round. Of course the question then becomes, why not take ordinary bullets and accelerate them the same way and do way more damage? Same thing right? Wrong. Why? Because of that inescapable bitch called physics.

You know the basic Newtonian laws? I'll give you a quick refresher on the third one. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Pretty basic stuff right? Well I guess it goes to show exactly how much of a moron I am. Because I hadn't even thought to consider ANY of this before I had built the first prototype of what I was holding now.

The first one had fired custom made metal spikes. Each about two and a half inches long and a half inch around. About the size of a large bullet. When normal mass accelerator weapons moved something that size I had a feeling the result would be quite impressive.

I had used a quick earth release to create a man sized target out of a slab of granite I had found in the wilds outside the colony. Had stepped back about fifty yards, had taken aim. And pulled the trigger.

I received in order: a broken wrist, a wrecked prototype, a lungful of stone dust from the destroyed target. And a complaint about the noise. I had been right about one thing. The energy transfer with a larger projectile was impressive. But I, In all my wisdom. Had apparently not thought to factor in the recoil. Which was prodigious.

After a day of healing my wrist and revising my schematics with no small amount of embarrassment. I finally created a working model. When I fired that one it merely sprained my wrist rather than outright breaking it. And managed to fire five whole spikes before finally all but shattering under its own power.

You'll be unsurprised to learn that the creative process was a lengthy one.

It took months of trial and error, but my efforts had finally paid off in the form of the weapon I was holding now. After I had finally made something durable enough to withstand the forces involved. The rest of my time had been largely spent mitigating the things recoil. I had finally wrangled it down to something useful with a combination of sealwork. Mass effect field manipulation and sorcery. But the laws of physics could only be cheated so much. It still required superhuman levels of strength to use safely, and any idiot that tried their luck firing it would be lucky if a broken or sprained wrist was the only thing they got from it.

I had, in a show of spectacular unoriginality. Called it a gauss pistol.

I slid in a fresh magazine with a satisfactory mechanical click. Stowed a few extra in a rig on my chest armor. And slid the pistol into the holster I had made for it under my arm. Before finally picking up my final tool of destruction.

It was, perhaps, rather plain when compared to the pistol. But I had a special fondness for it all the same. It was a longsword. A leather wrapped two handed hilt, and three and a half foot blade of hard, keen, alloyed steel, double edged. And Etched with runes for durability and sharpness along the fuller. On its own it was a well balanced, and fine edged killing tool. But its main advantage lay in its ability to channel different elemental releases. It had taken me some time to find the right metals to use. The venn diagram of arcanely conductive metals that were also good for swordcraft is surprisingly small. But despite the eye watering material cost. The results had been well worth it. And I strapped the blade to my waist with no small amount of satisfaction.

I breathed in with a sigh of anticipation as I made my final equipment checks and strapped on the last of my armor.

Finally, the time had come. My revenge was just hours away. I could feel it in my bones, taste it on the air. After days of waiting, that son of a bitch was going to get what was coming to him. I slammed a fist onto the cargo bay door release and drank in the humid nighttime scents of the jungle.

With nothing else to impede me I exploded into motion. Making my way towards Balareks compound as fast as my legs would carry me. The dense undergrowth smeared into streaks of green and red and brown by my velocity.

The night had been a fitful one for Avreus.

After Zero had stormed off in a huff. Avreus had surreptitiously made himself comfortable on the family's couch. And after a not at all restful night of sleep. Had awoken to a batarian toddler curiously poking at his face plates. After that, he had gotten up, smoothed out his clothing. And received an especially filling meal from Ranira. Afterwards he'd tried to offer credits as thanks for the family's hospitality, an offer that had been politely but nonetheless firmly turned down.

He had spent the day afterwards enjoying their company. The children had quickly decided that the strange newcomer was an object of immense interest and had taken to using him as an impromptu climbing tree. Which, Avreus had to confess, was not at all an uncommon fate for older children in a Turian family. So the circumstances were, all in all. Achingly familiar, and Avreus could see that the adults of the house were silently grateful. Both for his bottomless patience with the little one's precociousness. And the peace his presence bought them. As the children were far too busy engaging with this new curiosity to give much mind to bothering their elders.

Around the time the afternoon had rolled in. Avreus had managed to convince Ranira to let him help with the household chores. And had won by that a few hours of fine conversation over the sweeping of floors, washing of dishes and scrubbing of tabletops.

It served, if nothing else. As a way to take his mind, however briefly, off of the main source of his current inner trouble.

Zero

Because the human wasn't well. Not at all.

And Avreus wasn't sure what surprised him more, that he had noticed it. Or that having noticed it had caused him no small amount of worry and inner turmoil.

For after all, he barely knew him. They were as good as strangers. But Avreus had still seen it. Behind the cold, and the anger, and the hostility, was pain.

Terrible, crippling, excruciating pain. Grief beyond words. Driving him towards inevitable self destruction.

He needed help. And Avreus, for reasons he couldn't understand. Wanted to be the one that helped him. That pulled him back. His only problem was that he couldn't decide how.

He had thought that his mood had been a mystery to his hosts. Until Valak had cut through the haze of his thoughts.

"Well, are you going to tell me what is wrong?"

Avreus' head snapped up with a sudden start, the cup of dextro whiskey he'd been nursing sloshing in its cup as his attention returned to his drinking companion. Who was staring at him amusedly across the table they were sharing.

They were back in the Varren's head. Which Valak had insisted on dragging Avreus back to for some shared conversation and drink. The place was surprisingly lively for having had someone dismembered in it the night before.

"Well?"

Valak Said.

Avreus, looked back down at his drink, took another sip, and then lay it on the tabletop.

"Got a lot to think about I guess."

Avreus muttered, barely audible over the din of the cantina.

"Been worried, not sure what to do about it."

Valak nodded.

"About your friend, yes?"

Avreus was about to correct him, say that they were barely more than acquaintances. But thought better of it,

"Yeah."

He said,

"He's- in a bad way. I'm not sure even he realizes how bad."

Valak nodded in affirmation.

"I Saw it, same as you did."

Valak said, voice carrying a nostalgic edge.

"I've raised two boys into men, I know what a troubled young man looks like."

Avreus took another gulp of whiskey.

"Not sure what to do about it though, last time we saw each other we argued and I-. I Wasn't as…. diplomatic as I probably should have been. Way he said it, It seems like he's just gonna throw himself at Balareks compound. No backup. He's just gonna get himself killed."

He felt his shoulders sag as he leaned into the table, hands clasped in front of him and around his glass, eyes studying the slowly melting ice cubes.

"Nothing I can do about it now though."

Valak laughed, setting his drink down and standing up.

"Well, Not on your own you can't."

He motioned for Avreus to follow him.

"Come."

Avreus' confusion was evident as he stared up at the older man.

"What? Where-?"

"You will see. Come."

Avreus, uncertain but willing to be surprised. Followed Valak through the press of revelers and day drinkers until they had reached the front counter. Where the Proprietress turned to look at Valak in mild curiosity.

"Heya Valak, somethin' I can getcha?"

Valak nodded.

"Yeah, can you quiet things down a bit? Got something that needs saying."

Without even a question about what it is he wanted to impart. She nodded, turned to look at the rest of the bar, and with a volume and at an intensity that Avreus was sure would have made his old drill instructors incline their heads in respect, roared:

"OI! SHUT IT FOR A MOMENT YOU LOT! VAL'S GOT SOMETHIN' TA' SAY!"

Despite himself, Avreus was shocked to see the vast majority of the clientele turn from whatever conversation's they'd been holding or drinks they'd been nursing to actually give Valak their undivided attention.

"What's the word Val?"

Avreus even heard one voice inquire.

Valak stepped up onto one of the chairs so that he was standing above the crowd, before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.

"Now I know it's not generally considered the done thing to make your business everyone else's. But I know you lot are good folk. After a fashion. So me and my friend here-. "

And at this he gestured toward Avreus.

"-Wanted to see if any of you'd be willing to lend us a hand. See we've got a mutual friend In a bad way, might be about to get himself in a heap of trouble. And I was wondering if any of you might be willing to help us help him. Before he ends up getting himself hurt."

Avreus felt himself grimace. This was pointless. None of these people even knew him. None of them had any reason to care about-.

"Who?"

A voice cut through his thoughts and Avreus' head snapped to the source. A batarian woman, with a hand raised.

Valak turned to her.

"What's that Kalu?"

"Who needs help?"

Kalu. Now named, asked. Valak turned to the rest of the room.

"You all remember that human the other night? Set Garown straight when he started causing trouble?"

At this there were nods. And even exclamations of "oh him!".

"Hells, why didn't you start with that Val?"

A voice from the midst of the crowd said.

"After finally shutting Garown up, I wanted to buy the man a drink!"

Others made noises of agreement, Raising glasses in toast and pounding fists on tables.

"I reckon I can lend a hand."

One man finally said.

"Me too!"

Another called. And before long and much to Avreus' slack mandibled shock. It seemed as if almost the entire bar was clamoring to volunteer to help a complete stranger.

"How? Why?"

He asked, Dumbfounded, turning to Valak. Who was stepping down from his chair used for want of a soapbox.

Valak simply smiled.

"Like I said, they're good folk, after a fashion."

He gestured toward the door.

"C'mon. Let's get this lot organized."

It didn't take as long as Avreus had expected to get the roughly thirty head of posse members in some semblance of order. There had been a rush of activity, organized and chaotic. As different people had run back and forth from their homes with disparate bits and bobs of equipment. Incomplete sets of armor. Old service rifles, and family hunting guns evidently only recently liberated from their places above mantle pieces. Forty five minutes after Valak's announcement in the Varren's head. There was a crowd of reasonably well armed, and for the most part well put together people looking up at him and Valak expectantly from their positions atop a set of hastily procured crates.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do."

Valak yelled, voice easily heard by those the furthest in the back. Making Avreus wonder Idly where he'd learned to make his voice carry like that.

"Way I see it, this guy's making for Sedibus' little fortress in the old mines. He's like as not on foot. So hopefully it should be easy to catch up to him and make him see sense before he does something stupid."

There were nods and noises of agreement.

"I've got a van we can use!"

One voice piped up,

"Anyone else?"

A few other hands went up, and Valak nodded approvingly.

"Alright, those of you with transport. Get it to the front gate, the rest of us foot-sloggers'll meet you there. Aye?"

"Aye!"

The crowd responded as around half a dozen of their number broke off from the crowd, presumably to carry out Valak's instructions. As the rest began to make their way towards the gate.

As they followed the crowd, Avreus felt himself turning to look at Valak.

"Thank you."

He said.

"I don't even know why you'd do this, Why they'd-."

Valak raised a hand to silence him. Causing the rifle slung over his shoulder to shift slightly.

"Right thing to do, all there is to it."

Finally.

The anticipation had built to fever pitch now, fire and fury roaring through my blood. As at last I could behold my goal before me.

The walls of the compound were a stark and imposing sight. Casting long and uncanny shadows across the surrounding forestry.

I had briefly considered a quiet approach. A silent step, a knife in the dark.

But there was no need, and no desire. I wanted him to know death was coming for him, I wanted him afraid.

With nothing else to it but to begin. I held out a hand before me. Feeling my inner power rise to the surface, thrumming beneath my skin, and charging the air around me. Until, with a terrible wave of force and noise. I let loose an all consuming wave of gravitic force.

The wall, well built and thick, gave the briefest of resistance before it shattered like a pane of glass.

It buckled inward, shards of duracrete tumbling into the bounds of the compound as the wall gave way. Like a tower of wooden blocks knocked down by the caprice of a toddler.

There was kicked up dust, massive piled boulders of broken duracrete. And the unmistakable sounds of voices calling, begging for help, I stepped into the entrance I had made. A breach in the wall one would have been able to drive a tank through. And beheld the sight before me.

They were a sorry lot, there was dust in the air, On their armor and in their eyes, in their lungs by the way they were coughing.

They didn't seem to realize what I was at first. Daze and trauma making a muddle of their senses. Before one, Quicker on the uptake had the presence of mind to scream.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

Belatedly weapons were raised. And gunshots, sporadic and scattered, began to whiz through the air. But I had already started moving. My sword rasping as it was pulled from its scabbard.

There was maybe fifty yards of space between me and them and I was closing on them fast. I could see the shock on the faces of the men I was about to butcher. The dumbfounded, blunted expressions as their minds tried to make sense of what their senses were telling them. That disbelieving, blood chilling, bowel loosening dread that could only be felt by those confronted by the truly superhuman.

I was on the first in seconds, blade a smear of quicksilver.

There was a brief moment of resistance as the sword cut, first the barrier, Then the armor. And then the meat,

My blow caught him at his right shoulder and carved down lengthwise diagonally to his left hip. He let out a horrible strangled squeal, before quite literally falling apart, two halves coming undone in a messy fountain of blood and distended entrails. His fellows, some of them still firing at the space I had occupied, turned to look as they felt their comrades' blood spray onto them and into the air around them. Filling the air with the smell and taste of copper.

They were screaming now, weapons belching a stream of death at me as I blurred in and out of their perceptions. Sword rising and falling in lightning fast strokes as I waded into the formation of panicked mercenaries. I left corpses behind me wherever I went. Staining the ground in rapidly spreading pools of multicolored blood. Those men my blows had not immediately killed left gasping on the hard ground, their life essence sobbing out of them with each passing second.

Guns boomed, Men screamed. Armor cracked and split. Blood sprayed and fountained. Limb's flew. The air was rank with the stink of blood and piss and fear.

The first among them began to panic and flee. Throwing their weapons to the ground and as one panicked terrified animal running from me as fast their legs could carry them, their minds clouded and blunted by all consuming terror. The rest stood and fought, and so they died.

I watched as the ones smart enough to flee made their way further into the compound, no doubt to warn their fellows, and Balarek, that I was coming.

I clasped my hands. And with a puff of smoke I was surrounded by a dozen identical copies of myself.

Without a word they fanned out, moving into the compound to sow terror and chaos. Setting paper bombs on important looking pieces of infrastructure that detonated moments later. Breathing fireballs into inhabited buildings and barracks. And butchering any sonofabitch unlucky enough to be caught in their path.

Soon the night was alive with noise and activity. Explosions and screaming. Roaring flames. The scent of rising smoke and the fatty stink of cooking flesh.

All this I only barely perceived. As I made my way ever, ever on. To where he was waiting. To Balarek.

With a start Draksha wakes, there is smoke, and fire. And screaming.

The four eyes are screaming and dying. This is good, Draksha thinks.

He hisses as he thinks of the four eyes. Who beat him, and starve him, and who came to Heshtok and stole him and his tribe. And who carried them up into the stars, and collared them. And made them kill those that the four eyes wanted killed.

Draksha hates the four eyes, he hates killing for them. He hates the chafing collar around his neck that causes him pain whenever he displeases them. He hates the disgusting nutrient paste they feed him. He hates the dirty uncomfortable cell they make him sleep in.

…. He hates the horrible keening noise the females make whenever the four eyes make their eggs come before they are ready. And he hates thinking about what became of the members of the tribe they decided weren't useful. The sick, the old, the weak.

He would be happy to think about all the other things he hates about the four eyes. But soon he begins to notice as the room begins to grow hotter and smokier, the fire is beginning to make its way into their holding cells.

There is panic and screaming, cursing and pleading in Vorcheara. As his caged tribesmen beg; let us out! Let US OUT! OUT OUT!

Draksha doesn't bother. Noone is coming. And he knows it.

He leans back, and tries to make himself comfortable. Someone, he can't remember who. Once told him that burning only hurt at first. But then, closer to the end, when all your nerves were seared away. There was no more pain,

He hopes that's true.

As he watches the licking flames creep ever closer to his cell. He wonders idly if he will scream as he burns to death.

He would go on wondering, he was sure. If not for a sudden noise. The gushing of water, a great cacophony of hissing, a billow of smoke.

No. No, not smoke….

Steam?

Suddenly like a summoned specter, a shape takes form. Wading through the clouds of steam to stand before his cell. Draksha isn't quite sure what he's looking at, at first.

"Human."

He thinks as he sees the pale flat face. Messy mop of black head fur. And the two purple eyes that Draksha swears are glowing almost as brightly as the fires still raging outside that silhouette the humans form against the billowing steam and smoke. The human doesn't say a word, he simply grips the bars of Draksha's cell and pulls. And with a screech of deforming breaking metal. Draksha is free.

He gets up quickly, but the human is already at the next cell, using his impossible monstrous strength to tear open the next cell, and then the next one. And then the next, and the next and the next and the next. He loses sight of the human in the smoke and confusion as what is left of his tribe moves as one frightened and desperate Vorcha to pile out of the deathtrap they had all been left in.

He stumbles out of the broken door, gasping and coughing, Falling to his knees as he sucks in great lungfuls of air. Grateful for every breath not tainted with the taste of unwashed bodies or smoke.

He is surrounded by his kin, a crowd of heaving gasping coughing Vorcha. There is a sense of confusion and unsurety as they begin to take stock of their situation. Eyes staring in dumbfounded shock at the inferno their prison has been turned into. Draksha can hear whispers as his tribe begin to wonder what they should do now. Where they should go.

Draksha snarls and bares his teeth in a rictus grimace. He knows exactly what to do.

He stalks to the corpse of one of the four eyes, it is pinned beneath rubble, its lower body a crushed and mulched ruin. Its eyes glassy and staring, a dribble of blood leaking from its mouth and onto the hard packed ground beneath. Draksha see's what he is looking for and reaches for it. Tearing the rifle from the corpses clammy grip.

He checks the ammo readout and then climbs onto the piled rubble so he might be better seen.

He raises the rifle above his head.

"KILL!"

He screams. Voice made hoarse by smoke and fatigue.

"KILL THE FOUR-EYES!"

And as one, his brothers and sisters roar their approval.

-line-

It was hot, It was damp, and as Avreus kept his eyes peeled to the roadside for any sign of Zero. He wondered just what the hell he'd been thinking to even say anything about this, he should have just shut his mouth, or lied, or-.

"Think I found something!"

A voice over the comms interrupted his thoughts, as he reached for the radio with a start. Valak looked briefly from his place on the drivers side as Avreus' talons fumbled with the transmit button.

"What've you got?"

"Tracks, I think."

Avreus tilted a browplate.

"You think?"

"Just git over here! I'm at-."

The person on the other side rattled off their approximate location. And Valak nodded as he jerked the steering wheel, sending them off the main dirt road and driving through thick underbrush.

A few minutes later they emerged in a small clearing, stopping as they were waved down by another Turian in what looked like old hierarchy BDU's. An old Mark I Phaeston slung over one shoulder.

"So what is it?"

Valak asked, as he and Avreus approached cautiously.

The older turian turned to look down. Pointing at the ground at their feet.

"Look there."

He said.

"That look normal to you? Grounds all torn up. Like something was moving in that direction-."

He swiveled and stuck a talon northward.

"-Really damn fast."

"How fast?"

Avreus heard himself ask.

"Faster than anything on two legs should be able to move."

The older man responded as he knelt down to inspect something Avreus couldn't quite see.

"Which makes this really damn confusing."

Avreus and Valak Stepped closer to see what the other man was staring at. And stopped short.

It was a bootprint. Driven into the soft earth with no small amount of force judging by the sharp relief of the print. A fantail of upkicked earth blasted out behind it,

Unbidden Avreus suddenly remembered a piece of the words he had traded with Zero the night before.

"If you had even the smallest idea of what I'm truly capable of, the slightest inkling of just how true some of those stories were…."

"There's no mistake, it's his."

Avreus said, standing up from he had been kneeling to inspect the print. Valak's gaze snapped to his. Surprised.

"You're sure?"

"Certain."

He responded.

"C'mon. We might still be able to catch-,"

He was suddenly silenced by a thunderclap of noise. Loud but distant. An explosion perhaps but Avreus couldn't be sure.

Valak and the older Turians gaze both snapped northward.

"What the hells was that?!"

Valak exclaimed. Eyes wide as he stared into the dark jungle.

"That's him, it has to be!"

Avreus shouted, already running back to the vehicle.

"Get everyone to the compound! We might not have much time!"

Margith, up to now. Had been having a pretty good night. Though that state of affairs was rapidly deteriorating in his estimation.

He'd been woken about thirty minutes ago by one of his subordinates. A man he had always known to be steady, disciplined and reliable. So it came as a bit of a shock when the man had stumbled into his quarters an incoherent mess, babbling about monsters and ghosts and demons.

Margith had grabbed the other man by the shoulders, given him three stout slaps to the face. And demanded he tell him just what the fuck he'd been woken up for.

Slightly more in control of himself now. His subordinate launched into a slightly more coherent but nonetheless fanciful situation report.

Something (and Margith had marked the very specific and deliberate use of that word.) Was rampaging its way through the base. Seemingly omnipresent and quite literally tearing apart anyone unlucky enough to cross paths with it.

Margith had taken all that in, and told his subordinate to make for the inner chambers on the inside of the mountain. If any of their comrades were smart, it was where they'd be heading too. After he'd left. Margith had thrown on his armor as fast as he ever had. Boots pounding the floor as he shoulder barged the front door of his barracks building open and stepped out into a vision of hell.

There was smoke, fire and screaming, blood so much blood. And the horrid sweet stench of roasting meat. Margith had tapped into multiple channels of hissing static, trying to get anyone anyone. To tell him just what in the fuck was going on. Finally he had made contact. There was a terrified voice on the other end.

Apparently there'd been a breach in the perimeter wall and then people had started dying, fast. There'd been explosions. Fires starting seemingly out of nowhere. Someone had set the slaves loose and now they were rampaging through the base. Killing any batarian they could find. Most of the base was already razed to the ground. They weren't certain how many people were still alive,

Chaos, it was absolute chaos.

Belatedly, Margith had decided to follow his own advice and make for the inner chambers. If there was anyone still alive they'd be there.

It had been a hectic number of minutes as he'd booked it for the base of the mountain. Stumbling over the gutted and sectioned bodies of the dead and the dying, Hastily rerouting as fire and falling debris cut off his path. And at one point hastily falling flat on his face amidst bodies and rubble to escape the notice of a horde of Vorcha parading past. Chanting something in their lingo and raising high the head of a batarian impaled on what looked like a piece of rebar. He'd stayed stock still until he was certain the animals were well past him. He wasn't in any hurry to share that poor bastard's fate.

He'd finally met someone who wasn't a corpse or in the process of becoming one once he'd finally made it to the mines proper, he was Batarian. Like Margith, and terrified. All four eyes wide and manic as he stared out at the inferno Margith had just escaped.

Margith pulled at his armored collar and forced the young man's eyes to meet his.

"Hey! What's the plan!? Do you know what's going on?! Where the hells is Sedibus?!"

For the first two questions the other man simply stared at him. Before something about the final question elicited a spark of activity behind his frenzied eyes.

"Th-there! In there!"

Margith shouldered past him further into the mines. Finally reaching the inner chamber to be greeted by a chaotic flurry of activity, There were questions being asked and orders being shouted. Margith saw sandbags being piled and deployable cover being set up. He could see an MG nest with an auto cannon being set up on the far end of the chamber.

The entire cavern was being turned into a killzone fit to drive off an army. Finally as he rushed past the men busy fortifying, he saw a face he recognized.

"Kadrak!"

He roared, attracting the attention of the other Batarian as he rushed to meet him.

"Good to see you still breathing! You know what the fucks going on? Where the hells is Sedibus? Has anyone seen him?"

Kadrak nodded, gesturing behind toward the inner chambers.

"Sedibus is holed up in the inner chambers. Last I heard we've been ordered to fortify here. Whatever the hells is attacking us. It's not getting past this."

Margith looked around and couldn't help but agree.

There were firing positions every ten meters or so. Line after line of sandbags and deployable cover, with armed men aiming over the top of them. MG nests, overlapping fields of fire. It would take an army to take this cavern. Suddenly there was a squawk of static in his earpiece.

"SHIT! Contact! Incoming contact! It's coming!"

The activity in the chamber suddenly grew more hurried, as Margith heard another voice on the comms.

"Close the entrance door! Close it now! Don't let it in!"

Margith watched as the massive industrial door began to slide closed. Men rushing past its threshold even as it shut. There was a resounding clang as the door finally closed fully, followed by the sound of the locks engaging with heavy industrial finality. Margith could hear as those men that had been left on the other side pounded their fists and rifle butts fruitlessly against the unyielding steel of the door. Until suddenly from the other side there could be heard gunshots. Screams of pain and pleas for mercy.

And then finally silence.

Margith could see just as well as everyone else the blood that began to seep through the bottom seam in the door. Running to pool in a puddle before it.

Margith felt a chill run down his spine as he saw that, but took a deep breath as he made to master himself. Whatever it was, whatever it wanted. They were safe from it now. Nothing short of a shipgrade mass accelerator was making it through that door. That was what he told himself, until the next sound he heard turned the blood in his veins to ice.

BANG.

The door suddenly rang out as something struck it. The harmonies of the distressed metal making Margith's teeth buzz and ache.

Margith felt himself shaking his head in denial. The door was a heavy industrial model. A seven foot by seven foot, two foot thick behemoth of a door meant to contain all manner of extreme forces. It was absolutely impossible for anything to-.

BANG.

Another blow, and this time he saw the steel of the door, (the two foot thick steel!) Of the door begin to visibly dent and malform. Margith scanned around the chamber to see panicked eyes fixed on the door. Hands with knuckles white around weapons grips. Breaths coming in short hyperventilated gasps as they all watched the impossible happen right before their eyes.

BOOM.

With a terrible noise of wrenching metal, the door gave way to whatever titanic force their enemy had applied to it. Sending the twisted fifty ton wreck of misshapen and tortured steel pinwheeling into the first defensive lines with a cacophonic wave of noise.

"OPEN FIRE!"

Margith heard himself scream, but he hardly needed to. Even as the door was coming to a stop having plowed through three rows of sandbags and the screaming men behind them. The room was already devolving into a deafening roar of sustained gunfire and screaming. Men hosing the opened doorway in liberal and devastating volumes of mass accelerator fire.

"It has to be dead."

Margith thought.

"Nothing can survive this."

Once again cold harsh reality asserted itself as a staccato series of bangs echoed out from the door. And all around him Margith saw men all but explode. Heads popped, chest cavities were messily excavated. Whole limbs were blown off as the object of their collective terror showed itself at last.

It blurred across the intervening space. No fire so much as touching it as it struck the first intact line like an artillery shell. It was among them now, and friendly fire became a concern as panicked men in the lines behind continued to fire in its direction no matter who was in its way.

None of them cared, Margith certainly didn't as he squeezed shot after ineffectual shot at their enemy. Praying, begging to whatever gods would listen to just let one shot land. It seemed however that the gods weren't on Margith's side tonight. The thing kept moving, kept shooting, kept hacking, slashing, killing. Turning a cavern full of trained men in good positions into a charnel house. The air beginning to mist crimson with aerosolized blood. As its blade continued to rise and fall, disemboweling and dismembering. Leaving men to topple face first into the pooled blood and distended entrails of their butchered comrades. Margiths nose quickly grew thick and heavy with the scent of spilled blood.

"For the lord of lords sake!"

He heard a terrified voice shriek over the comms.

"Move the heavy weapons up before we all fucking die!"

Margith saw as a team of panicky men wheeled a manned autocannon into position, fumbling with the feeding mechanism as the thing butchering them drew ever closer. They never got the chance to finish their work. Because Margith watched in stunned disbelief as the thing breathed fucking fire at them.

The fire roared across the intervening space and detonated with terrific force, The men caught in the blast not afforded even the opportunity to scream as they were reduced to charred carbonized statuary. The gun they had been counting on to be their salvation sagging and melting into a pool of sizzling metal. What was left of the weapon's Eezo core cooked off in an explosion that sent the gun carriage twirling what must have been ten meters up.

The thing moved on and the next closest person was Grazz.

Gatatog Grazz was the biggest example of his species Margith had ever seen. And Margith had seen some big fucking Krogan.

Grazz was almost seven and a half feet of muscle and bad attitude. He used a warhammer that he liked to make a game of letting other people try and lift. The least amount of people Margith had ever seen it take to get the thing off the floor was five.

Grazz closed the distance and swung. Margith felt a surge of something like hope. He'd seen that hammer pulverize chest cavities like aluminum beer cans. Surely, surely,

In an impossibly fast explosion of movement the thing pirouetted like a dancer, out of the way of the krogan's swing before lashing out quick as lightning with an attack of its own. The sword was a bolt of silver light as it opened the Krogans throat. And the horrific stomach churning sound of a proud Krogan warrior gurgling and drowning on his own lifesblood was audible to Margith even over the din of gunfire and screams and prayers for deliverance.

Grazz dropped his weapon as his hands flew to his gouged neck meat. Crimson blood sobbing and squirting from between his clenched fingers. Even before the hammer had touched the ground, the thing. Supernaturally strong and fast. Had caught it in both hands.

With a graceful almost beautiful twirl of its haft. It executed a masterful and ruinously powerful swing. Straight into the side of Grazz's head.

The Krogan's skull didn't so much rupture as explode, Shards of head plating, Skull fragments, and mulched brain meat sprayed onto those nearby. The Krogan's corpse went toppling to the floor.

"What do we do?!"

Margith could hear Kadrak screaming. In the comms and right into his ear.

"What the fuck do we do?!"

The next to die was Hovarg, Still in the process of alternating between fruitlessly wiping bits off brainmeat off his face and gaping like a fish at what had just happened to Grazz. The thing brought Grazz's hammer thundering down on Hovargs head. And his helmet did exactly nothing to save him from sharing Grazz's fate.

There was panic, Margith could feel it now. In the air, over the comms. They could all sense it. The tide turning against them. Or perhaps it had never been with them at all.

"It's just one person!"

He heard someone scream.

"How can we be losing to one person!?"

Margith wished he knew, and what he saw next let him know that things had gone from bad to fucked.

Kadrak, steady, disciplined veteran Kadrak. Was spraying entire thermal clips worth of mass accelerator shots in the general direction of their enemy. Control lost, discipline forgotten. Panicked and frenzied. Seemingly moments from abandoning the fight entirely.

Margith saw a man he didn't recognize charge out of cover suddenly. Missile launcher hefted over one shoulder. Weapons like that were meant to crack open enemy armored vehicles. Against anything man sized they were significant overkill. But overkill might have been the only chance they still had.

The brave stupid bastard stopped barely five paces from the thing and took aim. Margith could hear him screaming. Screaming because at this range the blast was going to kill them both.

He fired.

There was an explosion. But of movement, not heat or pressure. As the fucking thing caught the missile.

It stared at the conical warhead for a few moments. Propellent still burning. Before it tilted its head to one side. And let the missile go streaking past its left ear. To go spinning off into the gloom of the cavern's ceiling, detonating with a distant and dull thump.

That showcase of just how comically outmatched they were, was apparently the last straw for Kadrak, who broke from cover and was already in the process of throwing his rifle to the floor.

"Fuck this!"

He screamed. As he made to push past Margith.

"Fuck Sedibus and fuck this! I'm going to-!"

Whatever his comrade in arms of several years was going to do, Margith would never find out. Because in the next heartbeat Kadrak's head exploded like an overripe melon. The messy detonation spraying blood and bone fragments into Margith's face and nose and eyes.

After he'd gotten the worst of it off of his face and could finally see what was happening. He'd wished that he couldn't. The line was breaking now. Men were either dying in their places or dying as they ran. Blood spraying the walls and the last lines of sandbags like some hideously macabre art piece.

Margith slumped to the floor, all will to fight driven from him now.

What was the point? They had never had a chance, that was abundantly clear now.

He put his finger to his earpiece to issue the last order he would ever give.

"Run."

He croaked out.

"Just run."

The compound was an inferno when they arrived,

The blaze had evidently been going for some time now. The buildings closest to the perimeter wall had already burned out into charred blackened husks. Meanwhile the closer you looked to the foot of the mountain the more fires could be seen burning. One didn't have to strain their ears to hear the gunshots. Or the screaming.

They found what must have been Zero's point of entry. And the evident source of the noise they'd heard before. An enormous hole had been torn into the wall. As if somebody had aimed a ship grade mass accelerator at it. And once they followed his path inside….

"Oh gods-!"

Avreus heard one of the men behind him exclaim as they stepped into the compound proper. And Avreus in truth couldn't say he could blame the man for his outburst as he followed his gaze and saw what he saw.

A divine invocation. All in all, seemed somewhat appropriate.

Because they were looking at the bodies of men who had been quite messily killed. Though to say they had been butchered felt more appropriate. It wasn't that they were dead, not exactly. Avreus knew death, felt something of a kinship with it. He had seen the dead, the dying. For a long time since coming to the Terminus. But there was something different about this.

Shooting was one thing. Using a rifle or a pistol to put a neat hole in some vital area. And then you just died. It created a dispassionate impersonal distance between the slayer and the slain. Perfect for the apathetic attitude most people held for life and its value in this part of the galaxy.

But there was something altogether more discomfiting about the way these men had died. It was one thing to get a hole in a place a hole shouldn't be. It was quite another to have your guts torn open, and to be left bleeding your last in a pool of your own piss and blood. As several of these poor bastards evidently had.

"You sure he's the one who needs our help man?"

Avreus very pointedly chose not to answer. He swiveled his gaze to where he could hear the staccato cracks of automatic gunfire in the distance.

"C'mon."

He said, stepping over the body he'd been staring at and making a concerted effort not to observe what he was soaking his boots in.

"He can't be far."

They followed after trepidatiously. Every step and every turn of the head seeming to reveal some fresh new horror. Burned out skeletons of buildings. Craters, bloodstains and bodies. Zero hadn't just attacked this place. He had happened to it. Like a natural disaster. A firestorm and an earthquake in one.

The fires began to be a concern as they trekked closer to the foot of the mountain, now the last remaining and greatest source of noise. The group continuously finding their path obstructed by portions of the inferno now raging out of control. Constantly having to double back on formerly tread paths to make any progress.

"This is madness!"

Valak said as they stopped to catch their breath at one point.

"That one man could do all this-."

He turned to look at Avreus.

"He is not normal is he? What kind of person do you have us chasing? Do you even know?"

Avreus took a moment before answering.

"You're pretty far out in the sticks so I guess it's not that surprising that you might not have heard of him."

Avreus said.

"There are stories, odd stories. About him, about some of the things he can do. Everyone's got a different take, a different idea. No idea how many of them are true but-."

He stared out at the blaze.

"I'm starting to think it might be most of them. They say he's some sort of demon, or sorcerer or god. That he can breathe fire and summon lightning. That he's faster than the eye can see and so strong not even a Krogan can go hand to hand with him."

Valak stared at him steadily, expression unreadable.

"I do not know how much of that is true."

He said.

"But I do know that the world can be a strange place. And that there is more to it than just what we know."

He stood up and turned back towards their destination.

"Come, we are no closer to helping him resting here."

The rest of the group followed his lead, standing up and shouldering their weapons.

They were lucky for that. Avreus suspected that they might not have lived through what came next if they'd still been off their feet.

They heard them before they saw them. A multitude of gravelly voices chanting something in a tongue Avreus couldn't recognize. They seemed to materialize out of the inferno, half again as numerous as their own group. Toting rifles, crude blades, and what Avreus saw with some disgust was a severed batarian head. They spread out to surround the group, cutting off any escape routes, but evidently content to hang back for the time being. One of them, the leader by the look of his bearing. Stepped to the front, rifle in hand but not yet raised to fire. He seemed to scan their group, picking out faces and marking some based on some criteria Avreus couldn't discern. He looked to Avreus and spoke, this time in a tongue his translator could actually make sense of.

"Turians leave, no quarrel with you. Four-eyes stay."

Avreus tensed and he saw the Batarian members of the group do the same. Grips tightening on weapons and gazes turning shifty and cornered. Avreus took a deep breath before responding, trying to sound braver and surer then he felt.

"We can't do that."

He said, impressed with himself that he had managed to keep the warble out of his tone.

"These people aren't any enemies of yours. Please, we're just looking for a friend of ours. There's no reason for this to-."

The leader cut him off with a swiped claw and a low guttural snarl.

"All, four-eyes enemy! Four-eyes take us from home! Four-eyes smash eggs, kill little ones and elders! Four-eyes bind us in chains and make us kill and die for them!"

The leader's words were rousing the members of those among his company that could understand them. They raised their voices and weapons in agreement, taking up the chant in their tongue once more.

"All Four-eyes enemy!"

The leader spat.

"Turians leave now! Or they become enemy!"

Avreus turned to look helplessly at the batarian members of their party. It was an impossible choice, Leave them to die? Or stay and be murdered alongside them?

There was a sudden noise, that Avreus belatedly recognized as a single word. Short and harsh in its syllables, and not spoken by a member of either group. Avreus hadn't understood it, but the group of Vorcha evidently had. For they halted their chant. Looking around to see who exactly had spoken.

The speaker revealed themselves a moment later, shouldering through the crowd to place themselves between Avreus and the Vorcha's leader.

He was human, older than Zero. If Avreus was any judge. His face was more lined, and Avreus could see streaks of silver running through hair the color of tarnished brass.

The Human spoke again, a longer stream of words this time. It sounded strange to Avreus, as if the words sat uncomfortably in the human's mouth. And the leader actually seemed to be listening, eyes fixed on the man as he assumedly argued their case on their behalf.

The leader's hand shot out pointing a talon at their group. Hissing out a murderous stream of words that didn't fill Avreus with much confidence. The human shook his head, his response was level, measured. And as diplomatic as a sentence spoken in the Vorcha's tongue could be.

He gestured to them, to the burning buildings around them. Speaking all the while. The leader listened, eyes narrowed. He turned to consider their group. Eyes glaring and nostrils flared.

He swiveled his head to lock eyes with the human. His next words seemed to be a request, or perhaps more accurately a demand. The human nodded, and Avreus saw with a start as the human reached into the folds of his coat and unsheathed a knife. For just a split second, Avreus worried that the man's action might be some prelude to violence. But the lack of reaction from the vorcha was enough to assuage his worries.

Avreus, and the rest of them. Watched in silence as the human began to speak again, his tone steady and rhythmic, Almost as if he was reciting the words of an incantation. He raised the blade to his right palm. And his tone wavered not a fraction as he slowly cut the blade into the meat of his palm.

The Vorcha leader watched intently as the humans' vividly crimson blood dripped from his palm onto the hard packed earth beneath them. He stared at the bizarre display a few moments longer. Before nodding his head in some sort of acquiescence.

Some sort of agreement had been made. Some sort of test administered and passed.

Human and vorcha exchanged a shared inclination of heads. Before with a short aborted word in his own tongue, the vorcha leader seemed to bid the rest of his group to follow him.

They did so, shouldering past Avreus and the rest of them. Not giving any of them so much as a backward glance as they departed.

Avreus watched their receding backs with a chest still pounding. He'd been quite certain he was about to die.

The human wiped his bloodied blade off on a pant leg. Before stowing it back in his coat. He seemed to rummage in a coat pocket briefly before pulling out what looked like a roll of bandages. Unrolling it even as Avreus sidled up to him.

"What happened? What did you say to them? They were about to kill us!"

The human looked at him with what Avreus was fairly certain was amusement. Wrapping the slice across his palm mechanically before biting off the end and tying it off.

"You're welcome."

He said, as he put the bandage roll back in his coat.

"I told them what they needed to hear, in the way they needed to hear it."

Valak stepped up.

"And that business with the knife?"

The man shook his head.

"There's more to the Vorcha than people like to think, lots of traditions and rituals they observe so they know who their real friends are."

"And that's what you are?"

Avreus asked, gesturing to him.

"A friend to Vorcha?"

"Yup."

The human said.

"I hope you won't think less of them for what just happened. They-."

He grimaced.

"-They've had a hard time of it."

Avreus saw Valak nod as he stepped closer.

"I don't doubt it, and you have our gratitude for helping them see sense."

Valak pointed his rifle vaguely in the direction of the inner compound.

"Why are you here? If you don't mind me asking that is, Is it for the same cause as us?"

The man let out a short bark of laughter.

"That depends, you here to stop a young idiot from jumpin' headlong into a pile of shit?"

At that Valak let out a short chuckle as well.

"That's about the shape of it."

"You two know each other I take it?"

The man shrugged.

"Not as such, no. I'll be frank, my relationship to him isn't really any of your business. Just know I don't mean the kid any harm."

A part of Avreus wanted to push back against that. The paranoid suspicious part of him that had been honed to razor sensitivity by his time in and among Aria's crew.

He mentally squashed it down.

The human, whoever he was. Had dealt with them honestly so far. Had even put himself on the line to save their lives from what was likely to have been a painful and messy death. As far as Avreus was concerned, the human could keep his secrets.

Avreus turned back in the direction they had been walking before.

"If we're all here for the same reason. Then we're all headed for the same place."

He said over his shoulder as he began moving again.

"No sense in wasting any more time when there's no telling what kind of trouble he might already be in."

They never tell you how quiet a battlefield becomes, after the combat is concluded.

This is of course, because stories about war are generally focused on the parts of it that people find exciting. The parts that set young mens imaginations ablaze and look good when imitated by special effects for propaganda vids. The gunshots and the explosions, the howled war cries and bellowed oaths. Most of the stories don't bother with the sounds that come after battle, the quieter. And arguably far worse sounds.

The whimpers, the crying. The last rattling gasps slipping out of half cut throats. The cries for someone, anyone, to please help.

A quiet part of me is disgusted to have been the architect of this much suffering. How many husbands and fathers have I ended today? How many brothers and sons? But it is shouted down by emotions in positions of far greater primacy in my current emotional state.

Don't forget why you're here.

They croon into my ears.

Don't forget what they did. They deserved this.

I hear only my own footsteps and my blood pounding in my ears as I make my way deeper into the long abandoned complex. Stolen memories pointing me towards my final quarry. The last story my sword will end, the last husband or brother or son I will tear from a family's arms. My body thrums and vibrates with the anticipation of it. How will I go about it, I wonder? A stab through the heart perhaps? Will I open his throat and let him spend his last moments drowning in his own ichor? Perhaps I'll simply make it quick and part his head from his shoulders. Or maybe I'll finally delve into the more esoteric of my inborn abilities, and raise him from death as many times as it takes for my rage to finally be satisfied.

No matter, I'll have all the time in the world to decide how he will pay the final ultimate price. Once I've finally caught him.

A final turn about a corner. Through an automatic industrial grade door, and then. Finally, finally.

I see him.

He is alone, or very nearly. The giant I saw before stands sentinel nearby. And they are clearly in the midst of preparations to flee. I am some hundred paces distant from him. In a vast hangar space carved out of the mountain face and opening up into the valley beyond. Most of the machinery is in various states of wear and disrepair. Save for a solitary dropship, fueled and ready to carry him from the punishment he so richly deserves. Its engines are already idling.

"BALAREK!"

A voice rings off the cavern walls. More akin to an animal howl than sapient speech. I realize after a moment that it is my own.

He turns his head towards me, whip crack fast. And I am struck by the sheer mundanity of the man I've come to kill. He's just a man, an aging Batarian man with wrinkles around his eyes, and a slight paunch brought on by age.

How unremarkable a specimen, to be the author of so much pain.

He stares at me, as if not quite certain that I'm real.

"A child?"

He speaks, his voice disbelieving.

"My crew were slaughtered by a child?"

He turns to regard me fully.

"I don't suppose you'll at least tell me why You've put me through so much trouble?"

I struggle for a moment even to find the words to respond with, in my current mental state. Coherent speech is genuinely difficult to manage.

"YOU DESTROYED MY HOME!"

I roared.

"YOU MURDERED MY FATHER!"

Balarek's expression is dismissive.

"Your father? Do you have any conception of just how many fathers I've killed boy? How many homes I've reduced to rubble?"

He asked.

"Narrow it down for me then, jog my memory. Is there anything about the nameless backwater you're from that would help me remember it better? Or the lowborn dirt farmer that sired you?"

And with that I am utterly beyond words. With a wordless animal howl I rocket forward. Shattering the sound barrier with a resounding bang as the distance between me and him is closed in less than an eyeblink. I can see the blow that will kill him, in my mind's eye it has already connected. Already skewered his heart and laid him low. Just a little farther, just a few more heartbeats and what my mind has conjured will become my reality. Just a little-!

Suddenly an explosion of motion off to my right. And my sword arm's wrist and neck are suddenly in a viselike iron grip. The giant, somehow. Impossibly has intercepted me. Holding me fast from slaying his master. Even as I struggle with all my might to free myself from his imprisoning grasp.

I can see Balarek, barely a few paces from me now. Expression shocked, nearly hyperventilating. As he tries and fails to keep the shock and fear at just how close I got to killing him from showing on his face. It takes a few more moments for him to compose himself and get the worst of the sudden mortal terror off his face. It gratifies me, even now. That I could crack his facade of arrogance and bravado. To see the worm cowering underneath.

"Y-yes, I think I can remember you know."

He says, trying and very much failing to keep the quaver out of his voice.

"You're Price's spawn aren't you? Personally you mudcrawlers all look the same to me but I can see the resemblance well enough."

He laughed, it was a wheezy hoarse cackle. Made manic by the adrenaline still coursing through him.

"Well isn't this just perfect? I get a two for one deal on your loathsome bloodline!"

There was an indistinct squawk of static in his earpiece, and panicked words on the other end I couldn't quite make out.

"Fine, damn it. Fine! I'll be onboard in a moment!"

He responded, before turning back to me.

"Mm sorry boy, but I'm afraid I can't stick around to play anymore."

He turned his gaze upward. To the giant's helmeted face.

"Tohring, dispose of him."

If the giant responded I couldn't hear through his helm, but I felt as he began to apply a titanic level of pressure to my windpipe.

"No! Damnit!"

I thought desperately as I struggled against him. My vision already beginning to tunnel and darken as the armored colossus began to throttle the life from me.

"Not like this! Not before I've-!"

In desperation, the hand that wasn't pulling at the giant's constricting arm with all its might darted to my sheathed knife. I pulled it free with a metallic rasp and rammed the blade into the first soft bit of meat I could find with it. I heard a short aborted gasp of pain and the pressure lightened ever so slightly. I took the presented opportunity to ram my free elbow into his side, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as I felt armor plating flex and crack under repeated impacts.

He finally threw me free. Wrenching my knife from my grasp to leave it where I had planted it. Firmly buried in the meat of his right bicep where his armor made way for more flexible materials to free up the movement of his arms.

I hit the ground rolling. Letting my momentum carry me unsteadily to my feet as I outstretched a palm and let loose with a blast of gravitic force, forcing him from his feet and sending him flying across the chamber. His momentum was arrested only when he smashed into a defunct ore refinery unit. Slamming into and then through the machines plating to end up somewhere in its insides.

Rapidly I spun around and could already see the ship lifting off.

"No!"

I mentally roared.

"Not again! Not this time!"

My outstretched hands began to pull at the dropship with all the attractive force I could muster. The ship began to slow, and then stopped completely as my power arrested its momentum. The drives sputtered and the thrusters burned hard, volume pitching to an ear splitting shriek as the ship's overtaxed engine assembly tried its very hardest to wrench the ship from my telekinetic grasp.

By small degrees, the ship began to judder backwards. Thrusters impotently howling as I, with teeth bared. Began to reel in my captured prey.

"Yes! Just a little more! A little further!"

Suddenly I heard the rapid pounding of heavy footfalls, and turned just in time to see the giant. Now recovered, as he swung to drive his gauntleted fist into the side of my head.

My vision exploded into stars, my focus on the ship utterly broken as I was sent flying sideways.

I felt myself fly and skid across the floor, stopping only when I felt my back slam into the cavern's stone wall. Cracking and fissuring the rock, before falling face first to the floor. My prone form being showered In a hail of stone shards and dust.

I lay there for perhaps a few moments longer than I should have. Simply processing the pain of being thrown bodily into a granite wall hard enough to break it.

The giant for his part seemed content to let me lie there dazed, As we both heard the unmistakable sound of the dropship burning hard for low orbit.

I had failed again.

I stood shakily to my feet, eyes murderous and teeth bared. As I stared at the rapidly diminishing pinprick. Until it disappeared into the greater tapestry of starlight draped above. I turned my gaze onto the giant.

"You will die for what you just did."

I promised, in a low hissing tone that foretold pain for its recipient.

The armored colossus simply nodded.

"We shall see, child."

He said, his rich sonorous voice devoid of all emotion. He looked down and raised his left hand to wrench my knife from where it was still protruding from his right bicep. Not making any sound I could hear as the foot long blade slid from wounded flesh. To be tossed gracelessly to the floor.

"Come then."

I surged forward, sword in hand. And he charged to meet me, fists raised.

I juked to the side to avoid his first jab. Lashing out with a sword stroke that scored a shallow gouge in the giant's chest plating. Undeterred by the glancing blow he thundered into my guard, shoulder checking me with a massive pauldron that set me off balance as he followed up with a right hook that I felt crack a rib with a lance of white hot pain. I grimaced and backpedaled, conceding the first engagement as I rapidly assessed the fight.

He was fast, not as fast as me. But at close quarters that hardly mattered. To have intercepted me the way he had his reflexes had to be superhuman. And I was almost certain he held the physical strength advantage. So anything but the briefest of physical contests was highly Inadvisable.

"What the hell is he?!"

I thought. As I squeezed off a few gauss pistol shots to ward the titan away, at least for a moment.

His abilities couldn't be natural. Of that much, I was certain. And yet my eyes and spiritual senses didn't detect any greater arcane potential than was found in any other batarian. So what was the explanation for his monstrously powerful physical gifts? Was he some sort of test tube baby? A mad experiment gone horribly right?

"….he's got at least one ace up his sleeve that I know you won't be ready for."

I grimaced.

Well, whatever the hell he was. I wasn't going to let some giant batarian Captain America stop me from tearing Sedibus a new one.

The fight became a rapid series of attacks and retreats for me, Charging in to deal small wounds and glancing blows that scored armor and opened small wounds that seemed to do little more than annoy the giant. Who doggedly maintained his pursuit of me,

A wolf biting and clawing at the sides of a great bear. I couldn't afford to remain in his reach for long enough to deal fatal damage. I knew that getting grappled by this monster was an almost certain death sentence.

"Not used to fighting someone who can match you, are you boy?"

The giant taunted as he thundered forward with a hook that missed me only by Inches. As I ducked beneath the blow and answered with a wild slash meant more to drive the oversized bastard off than to do any real harm.

The blade cut through the shallow groove left by an older attack, and I felt a small spike of spiteful satisfaction as the blade bit shallowly into flesh. He disengaged with a grunt. Taking a few bounding steps backwards that put him a few dozen paces away from me.

No decisive blow had yet been dealt by either side. But the contest had evidently still been taxing for the both of us. As we stared each other down, both of us panting heavily.

"This need not go any further."

I suddenly heard him say.

"It is obvious you cannot best me in a contest of strength."

I glared at him, no matter how true his statement was.

"Don't get cocky!"

I snarled, brandishing my sword.

"This fight could still go either way, and you haven't gotten off lightly."

"Perhaps."

He said.

"But my oaths compel me only to see to my masters physical safety, and I have done so. I have no reason to continue this battle. And I have no desire to kill a child."

Unexpectedly I heard his voice soften by just the smallest degree.

"Please."

He said, tone almost imploring.

"Whatever quarrel you have with him, whatever crime he committed against you. Let it go, leave this place. If not-."

He raised his fists again. His voice gaining a hard and unforgiving edge.

"-Honor demands that I kill you."

I scoffed at that.

"And what does the servant of a slaver and a murderer know of honor?"

He shook his head.

"I make no excuses for him, I know the kind of man it is I serve. But oaths like the ones that bind me are not lightly broken. Not even when sworn to a man such as him."

"If your oaths mean so very much to you, then you will die upholding them!"

I spat.

He simply settled into a low grounded combat stance.

"We shall see, child."

He said once again.

"I am Tohring Arval."

He intoned, almost ceremonially.

"And I should care?"

I said, settling into a stance of my own and raising my sword in proffer.

"It is only right that you know the name of the man who shall kill you."

He said, Exploding into motion once more as the fight restarted in earnest. Soon I found the battle returning to its earlier state of stalemate. Him unable to catch me, and I unable to seriously wound him.

I grit my teeth as I launched into a sequence of quick bladework, forcing him briefly on the backstep as he warded off my blows with well timed dodges and swipes of his gauntleted forearms.

"There!"

I suddenly thought, seeing for the first time a vulnerability. I drove in viciously, blade flashing like a bolt of quicksilver as I increased the tempo and ferocity of my blows. He began to fall back under the assault, and with a cry of savage triumph I lunged, targeting a rent section of armor with a well placed thrust. And was finally rewarded for my efforts with a short bark of genuine pain. As the blade's tip drove through the spaces between two of his ribs and was buried several inches into his chest.

I very nearly paid fatally for my strike. Only barely evading his retaliation as he made to bearhug me. Wrenching my bloodied sword free and bounding away from his slowed but by no means halted advance.

It wasn't decisive, but a few more blows like that and I might just take this fight.

But that was easier said than done. His guard would be more vigilant than ever. And he knew as well as I did that he had only to catch me, and the situation for me would turn suboptimal very, very fast.

"Think!"

I mentally screamed, as he renewed his onward rush. Fists blurring into smears of color as he swung blow after pulverizing blow at me.

"Think damnit! What do you have that he doesn't? What's his opening?!"

Had the circumstances been different I would have admired the grace and efficacy of his attacks. But just then, all I could really think was how much it hurt as he ended his sequence of strikes with a snap-kick that sent his armored sabaton slamming into my sternum.

I flew back, but felt my momentum halted with a jolt as I felt his hand clamp viselike around my left ankle. He gripped my foreleg like it was the grip of a weapon. And slammed me bodily downward.

My back Impacted against the stone floor, cracking and fracturing it. Stealing the breath I would have used to scream as the air was forced from my lungs. And I briefly blacked out as the back of my head cracked smartly against the floor.

I would have laid there, dazed. But he was intent not to give me a moment's respite as he lunged. Intent on ending it. I rolled hastily, only just avoiding having my head reduced to mulch by the stomp of an armored boot that cracked the stone floor as it landed.

He drove on undaunted at my prone form, rearing one leg back as if he was making ready to kick a field goal. At the last moment I snapped out a hand and sent him flying with a blast of repulsive force.

"I'm an idiot."

I suddenly thought, as I watched him rocket away.

I had been wasting time, and nearly gotten myself killed trying to do this the old fashioned way. When I had always had one obvious advantage he could never hope to match.

Sorcery, ninjutsu. Whatever you wanted to call it,

I couldn't beat him on his terms, and I had been a fool to try. So, I would beat him on mine.

It was time to start fighting smart, rather than just angry. Angry was useful, angry had gotten me here. But it wasn't going to win me this fight.

I scrambled to my feet and focused, feeling the draw on my reserves as I conjured three shadow clones around me. He was already back on his feet after tumbling to the floor, and almost seemed to come up short when he saw that I was no longer fighting alone.

His surprise lasted only a moment, and he was charging back in an instant later.

Me and my clones rushed back in to meet him. The dynamic of the battle had shifted, now that I had more than one angle of attack on him. And it showed in his struggle to adapt to the renewed and varied assault. He slipped up more often, left more openings, and spent more time on the defense than the attack.

I saw through one set of eyes as a clone saw an opportunity, lunged and with merciless accuracy. Drove the tip of his blade deep into the meat of the giant's thigh. At the point where the leg met the hip.

He roared, the acoustics of the pained bellow only slightly dampened by his helm, he darted out an arm as the clone made to retreat. Wrapping an ironclad grip around one forearm and yanking the clone back into range of a punch that separated its head from the rest of its body. And dissipated it into a puff of white smoke.

He paid for it a moment later as another lunged in. Scoring a deep gouge along his side that began to weep blood as the clone rushed away from the giant's retaliatory hook. Even as the clone backpedaled he rushed on in dogged pursuit, only seeming slightly slowed by the wound in his thigh. I spat a short gout of flame in his direction to discourage him. And he aborted his charge only just fast enough to not be immolated. Tongues of fire lapping at his singed armor plating and leaving sooty char marks in their wake.

He was tiring, breathing hard. His accumulated wounds catching up to him and slowing him down. I wasn't exactly in mint trim myself. But he, at least for the moment. Seemed to have the worst of it.

I wasn't going to give him an opportunity to recover. Even if I had managed to swing things temporarily in my favor. He had proven he was wily enough to adapt and overcome. Even to something like having magic thrown at him.

Me and the two remaining clones rushed in. I had to end this fast.

The first to reach him lead with a thrust that he only barely managed to sidestep. Retaliating with a sweeping kick that took the clone's feet out from under him and sent the simulacrum tumbling to the floor. He didn't give the clone time to recover as he drove down a boot that caved in its chest cavity and caused it to explode into a billowing cloud of smoke.

Not the thin wispy steam that clones ordinarily dissipated into. Something far thicker, oilier. And more obscuring. It coiled up and up to cover him in its entirety. Obscuring him in his entirety and robbing him of his vision of the rest of the cavern.

I likely only had moments to make my next move.

I drew the necessary power and exhaled a proper fire ball into the smoke cloud. Hoping to catch him off guard with a properly decisive blow.

Maybe he heard it coming, maybe he just felt the intense rush of heat. But he was moving almost as soon as the immolating orb of flame had been loosed from my mouth. That was probably the only thing that saved him.

He took the impact to the side rather than with his full body. The blast took him off his feet, sending him tumbling sideways, almost cartwheeling across the floor as he skidded to a halt.

My last clone wasn't content to give him even a moment's rest. And rushed in, leaping high to drive his blade into the giants exposed back, even as he was rising shakily to his feet.

The sword bit deep, and the giant gave a strangled cry as he turned to grasp at the clone, and slam it to the floor. It was already trying to wriggle out from under him, even as he raised his hands clenched in a hammering fist. And brought them thundering down on its head with enough force to crack and shatter the granite. Dissipating the clone and the sword it had left stuck fast in his back.

He rose and turned to face me. Even as an indirect hit, I could tell the fireball had badly hurt him. The armor on his left arm and on the left side of his torso had been simply blasted off. Leaving scraps of charred and melted undersuit and a massive burn across a large section of exposed chest up to his neck that I was sure would leave a nasty looking scar. Besides being badly burned, I could also tell from the odd angle the left arm was twisted at, that it had either been badly dislocated, or even broken by the concussion of the blast.

And yet, despite all that, he still seemed as eager to fight as ever. Obviously bothered by his injuries, but unwilling to let them stop him. I mentally granted him a measure of grudging respect for his determination.

But, respect or no. I wasn't going to let him stand in my way. Or stop me from taking my just revenge on his master.

I inhaled deeply, and exhaled another pillar of flame that rushed toward him. My attack didn't have the benefit of an obscuring smoke cloud to mask its approach however, and he threw himself to the side with a BANG of displaced air as he evaded my attack, visibly wincing as his velocity aggravated his injuries. Undaunted, however he rushed forward, charging straight at my exposed side.

Hastily I attempted to redirect the flow of fire to intercept his advance. But only the first licking tongues on the outer edges caught him before he was on me. Grasping my face with his still usable right hand and slamming me bodily to the floor.

He held on with an ironclad grip as he began to slam my head against the rock floor. Once, twice, three times. With a rhythmic almost mechanical motion. Fissures and spiderwebbing cracks spreading out from the point of impact. Even as my arms desperately clawed and pounded at his forearm as it held me fast.

"He's not going to stop."

A part of me thought, as he drove my head into the now cratered stone a fourth time. Wildy, desperately. I gripped his wrist. And with a grunt, began to channel as much raw voltage into him as I could.

He jerked and spasmed, his grip involuntarily loosening as he dropped me. Stumbling away from me with muscle spasms that left him unbalanced and falling to the floor.

There was blood, in my eyes, in my nose, in my mouth. Filling my head with the heavy iron scent of my own vitae. I was dazed and almost certainly concussed. I grimaced in pain, rising shakily to my knees and looking over to him.

He wasn't doing much better.

He was smoking, literally smoking from the volts I put through him. Twitching and jerking as leftover sparks of current ran through his muscles. There were now electrical burns to join the ones my fireball had given him. By all rights he should have already been dead. I had put enough electricity through him to stop an elephant's heart. But somehow impossibly, he was still alive, still breathing, still trying to rise to his feet.

I was trying desperately to match him, legs suddenly wobbly and unsteady as I tried to stand. To get to my feet and end this before he could recover.

"Zero!"

I didn't turn to the source of the voice, too focused on my opponent. But I recognized the voice well enough.

What the hell was the Turian doing here?

I heard other voices, footsteps. He hadn't come alone. Arval for his part was only just struggling back to his feet. He regarded the new arrivals, his expression hidden behind his helm. His posture stooped and his breaths coming in deep ragged shuddering gasps.

"Don't move!"

I heard the Turian yell, raising a rifle at the wounded colossus.

"Not another step, you hear me?!"

Belatedly the others raised their rifles as well. At any other time, such a display likely wouldn't have perturbed him. But he was tired now, wounded and exhausted from the knockdown dragout brawl he had just been through with me. He seemed to realize this as he appraised the situation, weighed his odds. And came to a decision. He turned to look at me.

"This…. Is not over."

He said as he turned from the line of rifles pointed at him and walked towards the mouth of the hangar on stumbling unsteady feet. Before pitching himself over the edge and into the jungle below.

With the main threat gone, I let loose an explosive exhale, Muscles slackening as I felt unconsciousness beckon.

I was falling, only stopped from hitting the floor when a strong but gentle pair of hands caught me, and lowered me slowly into a waiting lap.

"Easy kid, easy. I gotcha. Don't you worry."

I heard a voice, something about it so achingly familiar. It almost hurt to hear.

"Dad?"

I croaked out, barely audible. I heard him chuckle at that.

"Fraid' not kid, sorry to say."

He responded, and I felt a gentle hand running through my bloodsoaked hair.

"Just rest, alright? You're safe now. I promise."

Even as he said that darkness was already overtaking me, blackness that had started at the edges of my vision and was spreading to encompass it entirely.

"Miss 'im."

I said quietly, even as the last wisps of consciousness left me. In a few moments I was mostly under, but not so far that I didn't still hear his whispered reply.

"Me too kid."

Avreus watched as Zero was gently lifted into the arms of the older human. His head lolling gently against his elders shoulder.

He wasn't sure what to think about the careful, almost tender way the older human held on to him. But whatever their connection, it wasn't his business. They'd done what they'd come to do, and only just in time by the looks of it. Now the only thing left was to get the hell out of here and get Zero to a doctor.

They made good progress out of the mines and back out into the compound proper. The fire had well and truly burned itself out now, and the only thing left of the base were cold corpses and the burned smoking husks of fire ravaged buildings.

Valak had the foresight to call ahead before they finally reached the breach in the wall. And an all terrain vehicle with a spacious back compartment and an anxious looking sawbones was waiting for them as they exited back out into the bordering forest.

Gentle hands moved to take Zero off of the older human's shoulder. Who finally relinquished his young charge with some evident reluctance as he was lowered onto a waiting stretcher.

Despite no longer carrying the younger man. He continued to hover close to him, helping to gently move him into the vehicle's back compartment. And, once that was done. Flatly refusing to leave his side.

That raised a few brows, but no one was willing to argue the point with him.

The mood was somber as they made their way back, of course no one would miss the bastards that had been populating the compound. But still, seeing that much destruction. That much death. It left a strong impression. No matter one's opinions of its victims. No matter how richly they'd deserved it. It was hard not to feel just a little sorry for them.

They soon formed a convoy that made its way slowly back to the township. The night had turned to early morning by now, with the sky turning from solid black to a slowly lightening indigo. With the sun's first glow only just beginning to peek over the peaks of the mountains on the western horizon.

Avreus caught himself thinking it was the kind of view one could find themselves growing used to.

As they drove to within sight of the gates, there was a sudden ear splitting CRACK from somewhere overhead. The noise of it was deafening, And Avreus flinched instinctively to cover his ears as it was followed by another a few moments later.

Desperately he tried to think of what it was. When, with ice running through his veins he realized where he'd heard that noise before.

It had been fleet week, a year into his service. A parade of turian naval vessels had been set aside for the event. To fly like great parade floats over the heads of the awestruck and adoring citizens below. A proud announcer with a stuffy Palaven accent proudly listing off the names of each great ship as they floated past in stately procession.

The main event however had been when the imposing bulk of the cruiser, "Enduring Vigilance" Had stopped to hover over the massed crowds. And in a truly breathtaking display, had fired off its main batteries in salute to the Primarch and the Hierarchy.

The sheer wave of noise had at the time, beggared belief. And Avreus had never heard anything, before or since. Quite as soul shaking as the sound of a modern warship roaring at full voice.

Until today.

Someone was firing the same kind of shipgrade guns he'd heard that day. Someone was targeting the town with military grade firepower.

He watched in numb horror as a round struck one of the town's taller buildings, it crumbled and fell, steel supports and duracrete masonry tumbling inward and throwing up a plume of dust and smoke. He could hear people screaming, in his vehicle and in his earpiece. And vaguely in the distance as rounds continued to fall, gouging craters in the earth and toppling buildings.

"Oh spirits…."

Avreus thought, feeling thoroughly helpless as he watched an act of mass murder happen before his eyes.

Balarek, it seemed. Was not content to leave Jorinda without one last act of cruelty to remember him by.

Finally, mercifully. The great wave of noise came to an end. As the ship responsible pulled up and away to make for orbit. Engines burning hard as it arrowed up into the early morning sky.

Without a word, Avreus threw open the door to rush towards the opening gate. And could see others already doing the same.

He felt himself envying Zero, Slumbering deeply if not peacefully in the back of one of the trucks behind him. For his own part, Avreus suspected that neither he nor anyone else would be getting any sleep for a few hours yet.

Alright, that's a wrap for chapter 22. At fifteen thousand words and forty three pages. It's the longest chapter I've written for this dumpster-fire. Took longer than I wanted it to, and I am sorry for that. Life kinda got in the way. One of my cats died so that sucked a fat one. But I hope you thought it was worth the wait nonetheless. This was honestly my first real crack at a piece of longform action, and I hope that didn't show too much.

I know there are probably going to be people who take issue with the last fight, but as I've said before. If you want a story where the main character never struggles, never fails, and never grows. There are plenty of stories on this site that cater to those exact preferences. And I would encourage you to go read those instead, rather than clog up the review section with whining entitled tirades about how this completely free story that I write as a hobby didn't give you exactly the kind of wish fulfillment you wanted.

I don't like taking such an adversarial tone with segments of my own audience. And I know that most of you don't feel that way. But it can get frustrating dealing with some people.

On the older chapters.

Look, I get it. Fifteen your old me wasn't the world's best writer. Hell, I'm still not. But I honestly cannot be fucked to justify that morons creative decisions. So If you're holding out hope for some massive rewrite, stop. This story is my baby. My ugly cleft lipped dysfunctional baby. And I love it. Even the parts of it that make me want to sodomize my teenaged self with a fucking chainsaw. I'm sorry if you saw this near the top of the Naruto/Mass Effect tags and got excited because you thought you'd be reading some Cywscross level masterpiece. But this was my first serious crack at creative writing and it really REALLY shows.

Honestly the only reason I'm even still writing this is because I have an idea for where this is all going so far beyond epic it defies description. My only real concern is losing interest or dying of old age before I can get it all out. Which at the rate I write is a distinct possibility unfortunately.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Pour one out for my cat if you're so inclined. He was a good boy who I loved very much.

Tell me what you thought. And may the time between this meeting and our next not be too long

-Dark