Tuchanka, Aralakh System, 2185
Max found himself missing John. The Spartan II was as strong as he was experienced, having been a soldier longer than Max had been alive. Together they had triumphed over the most insurmountable odds, surviving by the skin of their teeth. Max would give anything to be by his side once more, but alas knew it was nothing more than a pipe dream now. He could only wish and hope that he was still alive and well. He had been a textbook, radiant example of what a Spartan was meant to be, an everlasting guardian, a truly perfect soldier. They had been an unlikely pair, yet the both of them quickly formed a bond of steel, forged through the fire of the Halos.
There were others Max missed, deep down. His brothers and sisters of beta company, sent to their deaths like brittle blades to a mountain face. Every single time Max thought of them he felt sick, grief and anger swimming through him as he thought of one single terrible truth.
He hadn't been there.
Why was he given the terrible privilege of living? What possible reason had they used to justify his absence? He had no more of a right then anyone else to survive, yet the powers that had been had deemed it so. And so his second family, those he grew up with, died. In the cold, alone, and unknown. A sacrifice made in the dark, never to be recognized by those they protected. Max would have gladly fell alongside them, atop that lonely, barren moon. Guilt reared it's ugly, contemptible head. His very continued existence felt like an unforgivable sin, his life feeling like it leached off of borrowed time which he did not deserve.
But what was done, was done.
He remembered Kurt, the Spartan II who had trained each and every one of them. He had been a force of nature, a caring, goliath of a man whose presence was never not felt. Was he still alive, Max wondered? So many questions spun around in his head like a hurricane, doomed to stay forever unanswered.
Max shook himself out of his thoughts, looking at the salarian that stood next to him with a measure of curiosity. A lanky, lithe creature, with a thin frame and leathery, rough skin. Two black, bulbously eyes with the eyelids of what Max could only compare to a lizard. An odd looking alien, far less humanoid than some of the other species he had seen.
Once they'd returned from the rite of passage, Shepard sent Grunt back aboard the Normandy. Not wanting to waste any time, Shepard asked the Spartan if he was up for another mission. There was only one question in his life that had been easier to answer, saying yes without so much as a mite of thought.
Max knew that he would once again be given the gift of battle soon. The opportunity to drown his woes in a haze of blood and bullets was so close he couldn't help but shudder in anticipation, his muscles tensing in equal suspense.
According to what he'd heard from Shepard and Mordin, they were looking for another salarian, by the name of Maelon. One who had supposedly been kidnapped, and who Mordin was apparently close too. The salarian claimed he was captured by a group called the blood pack, decidedly assured of himself in spite of any real evidence.
"Should talk to scout master, may know more of Maelon's whereabouts." Mordin said. The way he spoke was short and strange, though it seemed befitting in a way.
Max somewhat questioned why they were here. Their main priority was to stop the collectors. He wondered why Shepard was willing to take such time and effort to help with such a seemingly unimportant task, one which has no true bearing on what they meant to achieve. Perhaps she was just kind. The Spartan knew everyone was not as pragmatic as him. Or perhaps she meant to secure the trust and friendship of her crew. Regardless of her reasons, Max would do as he was told, content to follow her orders. Shepard had earned his respect enough for that. Both Illium and the days earlier events had proven Shepard worthy of her leadership.
As the three walked towards the scout master, Max could see Tuchanka's deep orange sun set underneath a distant mountain range. The clouds and sky changed in response, forming into a palette of orange and yellow as the last shades of sunlight faded. The camp soon adapted, many lanterns and makeshift light sources sprouting up all around as night fell.
"You know, it's actually sorta cozy looking." Kimbra said, clearly noticing the change in atmosphere. The surrounding krogan had changed their demeanor around the two humans, having heard of their triumphant rite. Faces that once bore resentment and xenophobia had now shown respect and admiration.
"Perhaps." Max responded, his guard somewhat more lowered then when they had first step foot on the planet. It was certainly very quiet now, as opposed to before.
They found the scout master at his post near the edge of camp, no other krogan around near the makeshift guard post.
"What do you want, human? You're crowding my hump." The scout master said as they neared, making no effort to hide his look of revulsion at the sight of Mordin.
Shepard cleared her throat, stepping forward to address the krogan. His face was half lit by fire light, auburn brown eyes looking at her with exhaustion behind them.
"We're looking for a salarian. We think he was captured by the blood pack. He was last seen around here." Shepard said, awaiting the scouts response.
"I heard about that one. Poor bastard got picked up by them a few days ago. If it's blood pack, that means clan Weryloc has him. Not good for him." The chief scout made a strange face after his words, like he was imagining all that was potentially being done to the salarian.
Coming back from its thoughts the scout master spoke again.
"We've got a Tomkah that's all yours if you wanna go to their camp, it's not too far from here. It's directly to the north, in an old hospital. Just be careful on the roads if you do go, it's a hell of a ride."
Shepard thanked him, and they said farewell.
"Let's head out." Shepard said, walking towards the distant, open vehicle bay on the opposite side of the camp. Sure enough there was a tomkah, just as battered and worn as the last one they had used earlier. Though the hulking vehicle still stood, rugged and ready for another ride.
"I'll drive." Shepard said as she hoisted herself into the troop transport. Opening the large door she hopped into the drivers area, her frame more than accommodated by the enormous seat. It appeared as though she sat upon a leathery throne.
"This ain't no Mako." Shepard whispered to herself, analyzing the controls and starting up the enormous engine with the press of a few buttons. It roared to life, and wasting no time, Shepard started to drive north.
Sat across from Max was Mordin, and silence sat over the three of them for a time, nothing other than the noise of the Tomkah rumbling as it drove over battered old roads. Shepards driving was surprisingly roughshod, all gas and little brakes.
"Hey Six, got any other stories in that noggin of yours?" Shepard asked from the front, clearly bored.
Max couldn't help but shake his head at the question, before he answered.
"Plenty." An understatement, but he had expended all of his tolerance for benign conversation in their last drive. He would not voluntarily relive his past anymore this day, he decided. There was only so much he was willing to divulge in such a short amount of time.
"Wanna share any?" Shepard asked right after.
"No."
The commander was disappointed at that, but wouldn't press him any further. The salarian mostly stayed silent, aside from the quiet mutterings he occasionally whispered to himself.
Max decided that it was he who would be told a story this time.
"Mordin." He said, grabbing the salarians attention.
"Yes?" Mordin asked, looking surprised at the Spartans choice to speak to him.
"Why is this Maelon so important?" Max asked bluntly, cutting right to the point. He wished to know what had convinced Shepard to spend any further time on such a depressing and wretched planet. He knew she did not view the worlds trials and horrors the way he did. Max figured there surely must have been a good reason they were still on Tuchankan soil.
"Valid question, complicated answer. Will try to condense for simplicity. Was part of Salarian Special Task Group, known as STG. Maelon was too, a pupil of sorts. We, along with several others, were involved in top secret project. Highly classified, of utmost importance and secrecy." Mordin paused for emphasis, before continuing.
"Krogan genome was beginning to adapt to genophage. Birth rates began to slowly increase. Simulations showed catastrophic consequences. Mission objective was simple. Prevent any further adaptations, return krogan population growth to intended levels. Was a success. Genophage modified, objective accomplished."
Max was taken aback how simply the salarian had admitted to what many would call a crime against an entire species. He quickly realized that the alien sitting across from him was a being of rather great impact and knowledge, one whose past actions held an enormous weight of consequence.
"Maelon taken for one reason. To cure Genophage. This cannot be allowed." Mordin said with utmost conviction.
"Would he be capable of curing it?" Max asked with genuine curiosity. The prospect of a lone individual curing a such a thing seemed unlikely.
"Doubtful, but not impossible. Possible other scientists kidnapped, forced to work together. Maelon clever, knowledgeable. Possibility exists. We must eliminate it." Mordin declared, once again with complete certainty. There was no doubt in his words, no wavering or moral dilemmas seemed to worry him.
Max himself wasn't so sure. Moralizing was not a Spartans place, yet he couldn't help but ponder the ethics of their task. The krogan of the past had earned their fate one hundred times over, but Max couldn't help but think of those who now existed. Did they truly deserve to forever suffer for the sins of their forefathers?
Max knew why the notion of a cure was an extremely dangerous thing to entertain. To let them expand in exponential numbers would, in all likelihood, result in the same thing it had resulted in thousands of years prior.
War. Destruction, death. Such things would be wrought by an enraged vengeful people, taking out their hatred on a galaxy of the innocent, the orchestrators of their disease having died long ago.
Such a reality could not be allowed to materialize, Max knew this. There was no correct solution. To let it persist was evil. To lift it, was perhaps an evil just as terrible. Such a dead end in logic made Max feel strangely upset, but there was nothing he could truly do. Shepard had seemingly agreed with Mordin's logic. Or perhaps she just wished to rescue an innocent from captivity. Max figured he'd find out soon enough.
Night had fully taken over now, and Max noted the planet's lack of a moon in the starry sky. His mind tried to drift aimlessly as he peered out the front windshield. The Spartan thought of other strange worlds he had been too, recalling some in his memories. He remembered a particular one with fondness, a moon which called a trinary star system it's home. Three suns, each a different shade created the most beautiful morning sky he had ever witnessed, the horizon a peerless blend of orange, violet and streaks of ruby red.
Come the same day he had the good fortune of witnessing such a divine sight, he watched it become shrouded in ashy soot and smoke. Max turned his thoughts away from such gloom, attempting to empty his mind, at least until they would arrive at their objective.
"What's got you upset?" Kimbra asked him softly.
A bold faced lie was his answer. "I'm not."
"Yeah, I'm not stupid. Did you forget that I'm in your head? And I hate to break it to you, but it's real strange in here. One minute you're angry, the next you're all down in the dumps. Don't wanna talk? Fine. But don't lie to me. No point." The A.I. had clear annoyance and disappointment in her words, and Max reluctantly attempted to apologize.
"I'm sorry. Just some... old memories, is all." Max hoped that would placate her, or at the very least keep her from becoming anymore irritated towards him.
"Then why not think of any good ones?" She asked. Yet another sign of her naïveté, asking such a question.
"Even the good ones are tainted by the bad." Max answered wondered what she'd have to say to that.
"Then it sounds like you need to make some more that aren't so bad." Easier said than done, Max remarked to himself.
Though, perhaps there was some level of wisdom to what she was driving at. To her, Max figured he must have appeared as the most joyless, wrathful man to ever live. He was still surprised she made such efforts towards him.
"Hmm. Perhaps so." Max conceded.
But this was not the night that would happen. Max knew that he would soon etch another memory of death and fury upon himself. One that he would create with the most primal euphoria, and one which he would remember with dispassionate callousness.
After all, what was one more amidst thousands? It really was frightening, the wealth of blood stained memories his conscious possessed.
There was no time for such musings now, for the tomkah crawled to a halt, and the strange trio of allies hopped out of the now quiet beast.
The hospital was not hard to miss, even under the shroud of darkness. No other structures stood for quite some distance, and the enormous, square shaped building was imposing. It would have been impressive, had it not appeared a rundown and abused relic of the past.
A long stretch of rubble and debris blocked the tomkah from proceeding any further, so they would make their way to the entrance on foot. Max readied his rifle in hand, ready and eager for a fight once more.
"I don't perhaps assume that helmet of yours has any night vision capabilities?" Shepard questioned Six, having a feeling she knew the answer. In the short time she had known him, the Spartan appeared as if he was incapable of nothing.
"It does. Permission to take point?" Max responded briskly. He didn't typically have much need for his armors infrared capabilities, his augmented eyes capable of seeing in the dark far more than any normal human being. Only in near total blackout situations or places where there was almost no light at all did he require such equipment. The surface of Tuchanka may surely have appeared dark to Shepard and Mordin, but Max merely found it a minor inconvenience.
Though in situations like the one he was presented with in that moment, he figured that there was no harm in using the thermal imaging. He had, in a few rare occasions in the past, used it to great effect on worlds nearly all but devoid of light. Assuming the krogan were warm blooded, and not as reptilian as they appeared, Max figured he would have an easier time spotting them outside than he otherwise would without it.
"Granted, just take it slow and smooth. We don't know what's out here yet." Shepards words were clearly influenced by the days earlier events, the hellishly dangerous environment of the planet was not something she would ever stop thinking of so long as she stayed on the surface.
Max flicked on his infrared vision, watching the thermal technology transform his visors display into a world of visible heat signatures. The Spartan found it strange looking, as he had in the past. Scanning the area he didn't particularly notice anything that looked concerning.
Max informed them after a few more moments of looking. "Area ahead looks clear, Commander."
"Most likely in hospital. Would be unwise staying outside now." Mordin said, once speaking with that odd speech pattern Max noticed from before.
"You know, he's kind of endearing in a way." Kimbra said right afterwards, with a small giggle.
The squad quickly made their way towards the hospitals half demolished entrance. As they neared a particularly large pile of rubble they were suddenly fired upon from their left flank. The unexpected barrage of fire was rather inaccurate, but the trio dived for cover all the same. Looking over towards where his senses told him to, Max sure enough caught a glimpse of a bright glowing figure. It was barely short of what any sane person would call a monstrosity of an organism, repugnant, repulsive and bestial looking in equal measures. Max recalled seeing one of it's like at the Urdnot camp, amidst a few recruiters for the blood pack near the outskirts of the shuttles landing area. A vorcha, Shepard had called it.
As he stayed behind cover, peering out slightly to look for the others, his seasoned ears picked up on something. Various different small arms of vastly opposing sizes made up the bulk of what he heard, no sense of order or coordination among what his senses gleaned. Random disorganized firing, and what sounded like a total lack of any standard weapon told him all he needed to know about their adversaries.
A complete lack of standardized equipment and discipline made itself evident. They were mere cannon fodder. The kind a Spartan could butcher in his sleep, no more dangerous than a small pack of ungoy. Such a revelation elevated his confidence and he exploded from cover, gunning down the first one he had spotted seconds earlier. Before the riddled corpse hit the dirt he switched targets, dropping another one with a short burst. The vorcha possessed no armor, nor any shield systems. They stood no chance as they were gunned down one by one, crumbling like the shambolic rabble they were. His energy shields were given zero work, the vorcha slow to react and horrendously terrible shots. Having easily taken care of their enemies, The Spartan spoke calmly.
"We're clear."
Shepard and Mordin stood up from cover, and Mordin had a few rapid words to say shortly after.
"Appears stories from Tali not exaggerated. Fascinating."
The salarian took a moment to look at the Spartan afterwards, a difficult to read expression lining his features, before a rather big smile enveloped his face. With nothing more impeding them, they made their way through what was left of the hospitals old frontal space. The entrance was mostly collapsed, but still just barely usable. There were two sets of stairs in front of them, the one leading up being completely collapsed. The one leading downwards however, was a much different tale. It appeared slightly more maintained and when Max looked at it closely, many sets of krogan and vorcha footprints, new and old were visible. Judging by the amount he could see, it seemed that the hospital was a place many called home.
The interior of the structure was lit in a somewhat random manner, sporadic and with little sense of style or symmetry. Nevertheless it removed any advantage Max would have gained with his infrared vision, so he turned it off.
Still the front runner, Max slowly descended down the stairs, rifle pointed downwards while Shepard and Mordin were stacked up behind him, equally cautious. The Spartan kept a close eye on his motion sensor, not wishing to be caught off guard the way they were outside. He knew the krogan would not be as forgiving opponents as the vorcha were. They were far more dangerous and skillful by comparison. As they neared the bottom Max noticed a body at the staircases end. He temporarily ignored it, going further forwards and ensuring the area around them was clear. Once he finished doing so, Max turned around to see Mordin kneeling to inspect the corpse.
"Human. Interesting, wonder how he ended up here. Should take a closer look." The scientist said.
His omni-tool flashed to life around his arm, using it to scan the corpse for a brief moment.
"Tumors, sores, ligaments show clear signs of restraints on ankles and wrists. Multiple repeat injection sites along torso. Hmmm... Test subject, experimentation victim. Poor soul." Mordin whispered the last two words with tenderness and sympathy, reaching down to close the deceased mans eyes.
"I take it there's no way to tell who this poor bastard was?" Shepard asked.
"Correct. No i.d., nor tattoos. Perhaps slave, or prisoner. But irrelevant now."
"Why test on humans in the first place?" Max asked Mordin, both angered and confused at the sight of such a misplaced person. To meet ones end in a place so far from home, alone and abused, was a damnable fate.
"Humans quite useful as test subjects. Extreme genetic diversity in comparison to other species. Allows for greater range, furthering exploration of treatment modalities. Far greater reaction to various stimuli." The salarians explanation was logical enough, but there were still unanswered questions.
"You think this guy was part of the tests for a genophage cure? Why not do tests on other species like varren or other krogan?" Shepard asked, still confused.
"Human test subject indicative of strict, high level concept testing. Would delay use of Tuchankan fauna until later research stages. Position of tumors suggests deliberate mutations of adrenal, pineal glands. Clearly modifying hormone levels. Clever." Mordin said with a level of concern.
"Are they close to a cure?" Shepard asked.
"Hard to say. Need more data. But undoubtedly making progress. Genophage alters hormone levels. Could be stopped via hormonal counterattack." The doctor answered as he stood up.
"Now we've got two reasons to put a stop to this." Shepard declared with conviction. She doubted the poor deceased man was the only victim they would come across. It was a terrible twist of irony, a place of healing now warped into a decrepit pit of suffering.
The hospitals look was most certainly reflective of its current atmosphere, crumbled walls and a floor with more cracks than anyone would want to attempt counting. The smell was no better, reeking of rot and filth. Shepard looked up at Six and envied him, as the armor he wore no doubt blocked the horrid scent which plagued her nose.
The horrid smell only grew stronger as they neared the entrance to a separate wing of the hospital. As they walked in, Max noticed multiple walkways above them, connected to upper floors of the hospital.
The large, empty doorway to what seemed to be the next wing was soon within sight, but Max was alerted by several pings on his motion tracker, directly in front and above them.
Three krogan stepped out on the walkway, hurriedly marching forwards with confidence and anger in their steps. The one at the center looked downwards upon them, and spoke loudly.
"I am the speaker for clan Weryloc, offworlders. You have trespassed here and shed our blood. By rights, you should be dead already! But Weryloc Guld, the chief of chiefs, has ordered that you be given leave to flee, and spread the message of our coming!"
Were it up to Max he would have already opened fire, but he stayed his hand, seeing Shepard step forward to adress the krogan standing above them.
"You krogan never let people just walk away. What is it you have planned exactly?" Shepard asked, attempting to see if she could get some kind of information before things inevitably went to hell.
"If you leave now, you can tell your children that you witnessed clan Weryloc, before our blood pack conquered the stars! The salarian will cure the genophage, and clan Weryloc will spread out across the galaxy in a sea of blood!"
Mordin, Max and Shepard all exchanged short glances after hearing the krogans words. It appeared Mordins fears were well founded.
Max clutched his rifle tightly, as he and Mordin waited to see if Shepards words could somehow prevent any further violence.
"It doesn't need to be this way. I can understand wanting to cure the genophage, but-"
She was cut off as the krogan screamed at her.
"Human you understand nothing! You have not seen the piles of children that never lived! Our people were wronged. We will make it right, and then we will have our revenge!" The krogans voice almost wavered as it spoke, sadness and anger overwhelming the passion filled statement.
As Shepard tried fruitlessly to be diplomatic with the furious krogan, Max scanned the room carefully, making sure there were no other angles other krogan could flank them from. Just as he seemed confident there were none Shepard suddenly shot at the krogan, seemingly missing.
"Ha! The human cannot hit a simple target! The clan speaker said as he and his compatriots aimed their own weapons down at the three of them below.
A high pitched hiss ramped up in intensity throughout the expansive room, and everyone in it looked at the source. A small fuel tank, on the underside of the ramp the krogan stood on. Shepard shot again, detonating it in a flash of orange and black.
"Aaaaahhhh!"
Nothing but the wretched sounds of screaming could be heard as the smoke cleared, and the speaker was engulfed, wrapped in flame as he was agonizingly incinerated. Little more than bone and ashes would be all that remained. The remaining krogan looked on in horror, watching their comrade die in the worst way imaginable. Even Max felt a shred of sympathy, or at the very least, acknowledgement that there was no worse pain then burning.
"So much for talking things out." Max heard Kimbra say, as the room became shrouded in gunfire and screams of rage from the remaining krogan above them. The squad took cover and the firefight began in earnest, several more krogan warriors rushing into the room. Max sent down as much fire as his rifle would possibly allow before overheating, joining the orchestra of small arms fire which surrounded them all.
The Spartan ducked back into cover, and placed his rifle on the mag lock upon his back. Max instinctively found the weight of the magnum on his hip as he closely eyed two rapidly incoming pings on his motion sensor. With a single deep breath and a spike of adrenaline, Max burst out from cover.
Directly facing a duo of claymore weilding warriors, Max pulled the trigger on his magnum so quick it may as well have been full auto, putting eight rounds of fifty caliber explosive rounds into the center mass of the closer krogan. Even the krogan's rugged physiology and toughness was unable to withstand such violent force, and it fell, dead before it even hit the ground.
The second was enraged at the death of his comrade and charged forward, wholly berserking towards the Spartan as he made no attempt to get out of the way.
Max could have made an effort to quickly back away, but no. There was something about Tuchanka that brought out both the best and worst in Max. His capacity for violence flourished, as did his recklessness. Max unsheated his titanium blade, and let the krogan indulge it's own recklessness for the very last time.
Once only a foot away from the Spartan did the krogan fire the shotgun it held, the first shot being deflected by its opponents energy shields. Having never stopped moving it fired again, mere inches away from Max as it managed to shatter his shields. Undeterred, Max lashed out with his left arm, grabbing the krogan by the neck as his right followed directly behind. The Spartan drove his blade right under the large, natural armor plate on the krogans large head, wedged in tight and deep.
Like a cat grabbed by the scruff the krogan went almost limp with fear, and before it could try to escape, it was too late.
Using his blade like a crowbar Max leveraged all his strength, and with a sickening peel the plate was torn off.
It was like a giant fingernail had been ripped away, puss, blood and bone now exposed atop the aliens skull. Just as the krogan started howling in pain Max sunk his blade deep within the now unprotected gray matter. The krogan collapsed to the floor, a life extinguished like a snuffed out candle.
Sheathing his knife, Max turned to his left, seeing Shepard and Mordin still occupied with the remaining krogan. Max sprinted towards them, his strides so quick it was like he was flying through the room. He rammed his shoulder into a krogan which had Mordin pinned down, sending the enormous creature careening into a wall with a large thud and dent in the aged stone.
As the krogan stood up attempting to regain its concussed mind, it was denied the chance to do so once Shepard splattered the contents of his skull across the damaged wall. She seemed to have quite the knack for such kills.
Only one more was left. Knowing he was outnumbered the krogan made one last effort and charged towards Mordin, stomping towards the salarian with a great war cry.
Shepard and Max saw this and took aim, but before either could fire the krogan was upon Mordin, and he was forced to narrowly avoid the now berserking warriors ferocious attacks. Every punch was thrown with bad intentions, and Mordin was soon caught with a devastating blow to the torso.
The scientist collapsed as the wind was completely knocked out of his lungs, and the krogan raised a leg to stomp his body into the floor.
Mordin falling had given his allies a clear shot at his attacker. With the risk of friendly fire gone, Max let loose with his rifle as Shepard did the same. They gunned down the krogan in defense of their comrade, but not before the krogans foot landed squarely on Mordins chest.
"Shit, Mordin!" Shepard cried out as she ran over to him, kneeling down to make sure he was alright.
Mordin coughed out traces of greenish blood before taking a massive deep breath, turning over to his side as he took more deep breaths.
"Will... be alright..." Mordin whispered weakly as he clutched his stomach, once again coughing more flecks of blood onto the ground.
After a few moments Shepard offered him her hand, and she pulled him back to his feet. Shepard looked at him with concern. Salarian physiology was fragile compared to most species, and entirely unsuited to taking beatings from blood raging krogan.
But Shepard was reminded of his training and surprising toughness when Mordin summoned his typical little grin, smiling through the pain. STG seemed to produce tough operatives, Shepard thought to herself.
"Will be alright Shepard. Nothing broken thankfully, krogan barely missed ribcage." Mordin told her, attempting to alleviate his commanders worries. Safisfied, she gave him a small pat on the shoulder and a nod.
The Spartan looked up towards where the speakers remains rested, ash and smoldered armor being all that was left. He shot a look over towards his commander, impressed at her earlier decision to strike the first blow. It had certainly been a sudden move, but it had given them the advantage.
"He wouldn't listen to reason." Shepard said, noticing the look Six gave her. It was hard to decipher whether it was agreement or surprise he looked at her with, that pitch black visor of his concealing all discernible emotion.
"Krogan rarely do." Mordin commented, his voice a bit stronger now.
"We need to keep moving commander. More will be here soon if we dont push on." Max advised to Shepard, not wanting to let the rest of the hospitals inhabitants realize that the trio had survived their little welcome party.
"Mordin, stay close to me. Six, take point. We'll be right behind you." Shepard ordered as she unholstered her sidearm, motioning towards the door which led further inside.
"Affirmative." The Spartan said, pressing onwards through the door as Shepard and Mordin stacked up behind him once more.
There was nothing more familiar than being the front runner, the Spartan felt. He smoothly scanned the immediate area with his rifles sights as he steadily moved forwards, soon turning a corner which led to another staircase. Exactly twenty five meters out down the stairs were several contacts on his motion sensor, and Max stopped moving to analyze it. They were still, and evenly spaced out from one another. Max concluded they were most likely in defensive positions, lying in wait for them.
It would make no difference. They would die all the same, merely marginally slower than they otherwise would.
There was nothing they could possibly to do to stop it, and Max decided it was time to force the rest of them to realize this. Their deaths would be equally in vain as their resistance, and the courage they posessed would turn to ashes in their mouths.
Hope y'all enjoy this one, sorry for the wait. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if you feel so inclined. I always love hearing feedback! Till next time.