The Rook

by Twisted Fate MK 2

On the way down to New Mombasa, Rookie falls into the Slipspace Rupture and ends up crashing down on Menae, high above Palaven, right in the midst of the Reaper War. From there, the war itself will shift and the fighting persists, but who knows what an ODST will add to the mix. (Redo of an older story)

24. The Battle of Tuchanka - Finale

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Requested by : Laurel

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As previously established-

I rarely stick to the hard lines of missions in the games I write in. This is no different. I find it more fun if I come up with my own tweaked set ups and objectives. As always, hope you enjoy.

XxX-XxX-XxX

"This is a mistake, Commander." The high, irritating, flanging Salarian voice crackled in her ear, static laced through it from the storm's interference. "A serious, tragic mistake that will end in far more death than you can possibly know."

"And neither can you." She countered, sighing quietly, "Right now, we don't know what will happen. Maybe the Krogan aren't enough to stop the Reapers and, in the end, we all die. Or maybe we win, and everything turns out… Alright."

"The best ending to your missteps is a quick death for us all, Commander." The Dalatrass argued, sounding more and more desperate with each passing minute as the interference intensified. "Please, Commander, I implore you to think this through, before you do something that we all know, deep down, is the wrong choice."

"The only choice I have made that I know is wrong is having EDI run your transmissions through the QEC." Shepard countered, pursing her lips and sighing. Wrex gave her a look from across the compartment and she opened her out-mic to explain, "Dalatrass on the line. Begging me not to make a mistake."

"Who are you-"

"High Chieftain Urdnot Wrex." Shepard cut her off, smiling at the audible intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Shall I put you on?"

"...If you will not listen to reason, you leave me no choice." The Salarian answered lowly, "You will come to regret this. Mark my words."

Before she could say anything, the line went dead, and Shepard sighed as she closed the private comm-line. Shaking her head, she leaned back against the old seat's reinforced back and sighed, "Well, that went well…"

"Let me guess," Wrex chuckled, "veiled threats, moral high-horsing and… More veiled threats?"

"Add some apocalyptic doom-saying." Shepard smiled, "You know. For seasoning."

"Oh where would we be without the seasoning…" Wrex rumbled a low, deep laugh, cocking his head as the Tomkah shook violently around them and he frowned. "Shit's hitting the fan… You ready?"

"Yeah." She sighed, "Ready as can be."

Outside, thunder rumbled, and she murmured a prayer for guidance and protection for them all.

XxX-XxX-XxX

As they advanced slowly through the ruined city, the weather grew worse and worse. The wind howled around them, whistling around exposed metal and through gaps in the old, collapsed debris exposed as the sheer weight of rain washed the looser dirt and dust. Dust and dirt that turned to mud in the valleys between the ruin-hills, often times so deep that he could see the mud being thrown up by the heavy wheels of the Tomkah. Twice, the mud splashed through onto his visor, and he had to wipe them off on the sleeve between the pieces of his armor while the Krogan chuckled around him. Some might have been agitated by that, but…

He welcomed the laughter as a nice change from the thunderous pounding of water against armor, and the cracks of thunder.

"Chief," the pilot shouted down from the cockpit, their internal comms too laced in static to use even inside the Tomkah, "I can't see a damn thing out there… I don't like this. My stomach aches."

"Take it slow." Tar grunted, sliding the barrel of his Revenant out the view-port. "Weapons up, people. And eyes as open as can be."

John nodded, double-checking his rifle for mud as he took position and quietly asked, "Stomach aches? For Krogan?"

"Any time there's trouble brewing, Cachok gets stomach aches." Tar rumbled simply, chuckling darkly under his breath, "Never understood how, or why, but… Usually tracks. And when it doesn't, well… I just assume whatever was looking our way for trouble saw a bunch of ready Krogan, they fucked off."

"Ah." He hummed, "Fair."

"Doe…?"

"Yeah?"

"You got a bad feeling, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do…" He nodded, watching the pitch-black darkness for any movement he could pick out in the intermittent flashes. But… All he saw was rubble, mud, and water as they drove along, lit up in stretches of vibrant violet and blue lightning and the long, warped shadows it cast.

And he swore he saw… Something in the sky, lit up by lightning that arced in front of it.

"Wait…" He murmured, blinking confusedly, "In front of- Evade!"

The driver must have heard him, because the Tomkah jerked to the side so harshly that it shot up the side of one of the rubble-hills and pitched to the side sharply, tossing John up into the armed viewport as his wall became the roof for a moment. He snarled and rolled onto his side, and was just able to make out the red flash that arced through the space they'd just been in, searing along the road with enough intensity that it looked like the mud was boiling around it, filling the space in fog.

"R-Reaper!" The ODST choked out as the Tomkah continued up, into the air, spinning and turning through the air before it crashed down into the mud on its side and John was hurled across the compartment by the stop.

"Doe!" Tar barked, barely audible over the screaming of scraping stone on metal and crushing armor. Doe covered his arms as the Krogan shot up and plucked him out of the air as the Krogan, throwing himself in John's path and coming down hard enough to crush the storage console across from the main entrance into the compartment. When John rolled over and pushed himself up awkwardly, stumbling at an almost diagonal angle as he regained his bearings, Tar followed, standing just as awkwardly and barking, "Status!"

Nothing came from the driver's compartment but, when he turned, he couldn't even see up its length. Instead, all he saw was crushed and warped metal and, measuring the angle, he frowned and grunted, "Compartment's gone."

"Wratch is, too…" John turned, following the old warrior's gaze to where the rear corner where Wratch had been.

It had been partially melted by a near miss, weakening the metal enough that the impact crushed it around the Krogan. Ruined interior plating had caved in, broken through by the superstructure that had come apart in an array of sharp, spear-like lengths of metal that had punched through the Krogan in a dozen places, joined by another dozen lengths of ancient metal and rock that had punched through with them. He knew Krogan could recover from a lot, but…

Three spears through the head had to be enough.

"We need to move, before the… The steam clears and it fires again." John barked, grabbing his rifle from where it had landed and turning.

Tarjust nodded and grabbed one of the lengths of bloody metal protruding from Wratch and yanked it free, turning and using it to punch the door open with a shout of protesting metal. Outside, lightning arced over them and John saw a long lance of violent red that arced past them in another long, sweeping gesture. Another blast followed it, curving off at another angle, and John grabbed Tar as he tried to climb out.

"What?" The irritated alien asked, yanking his arm free hard enough it sent pain lancing through the ODST's fingers. "Like you said, we need to move."

"It isn't aiming at us anymore…" He murmured, watching the arcing shots. "It must not be able to see in the storm… Or it thinks we're all dead."

Tar growled, infuriated and pained from a spot on his back that was trailing blood through his cracked armor. But he listened, leaning over to look up and watch another shot arc past them and down, searing through rubble and ruin so close they heard the explosion of metal and rock being superheated on the other side of the mound they'd crashed on. Then, suddenly, the rain stopped, and John looked up, pinging a VISR that hadn't worked for a while yet…

The entire sky lit up in dull reds, curving up along a sloped belly and down along several long legs that stretched around them.

"It's above us." He muttered, standing and gesturing at the Reaper. "I see it on thermals. We should move… But slowly."

"Right." Tar nodded, "I'll go first and pull you up."

"Got it." John nodded, making space for the Krogan to find a way to climb up the few feet of space to get through the open door. While he helped the ODST up through the gap, he asked, "How far are we? Do you know?"

"The Old City ends in an older wall enclosing the Arena of Kalros and its shrines and temples. The Shroud is built in there, but… No way of knowing how close to where it was erected we are." Tar explained, head cocked so he could meet John's gaze and watch up at the Reaper as it stalked over them, raining fire on whoever was unlucky enough to be using the roads. Quietly, as if afraid the Reaper destroyer would hear them, he muttered, "We should move fast… You good to run?"

His ribs ached deeply, his shoulder stung, and his ankle hurt where he'd stumbled and no doubt bruised it…

But he just nodded and said, "Set the pace, Chieftain."

The Krogan shot him a look, smiled, and nodded as he turned to drop onto the rubble a few feet up from the muddy road. John followed him, rolling his shoulder and frowning.

XxX-XxX-XxX

Outside, Tuchanka was dimly lit and humid. A far cry from the dry heat John had grown used to over the last few days and weeks. Even twenty feet up the road, mud sloshing around his ankles, the Reaper was still overhead, its weapon screaming bright scarlet across the sky as it turned, facing the way they had come, to look for more while its titanic feet sent tremors through the ground. He kept a wary eye on it, but it still hadn't noticed them as it turned, taking one earth shaking, ruins clattering step at a time to head further along the expanse of the Old City's inner wall.

"You know…" Tar rumbled from his side as they made their way up the muck, "Most would be a bit more anxious, with that over their heads…"

"True." He shrugged, "Most don't make good ODSTs, though."

"Ha." The Krogan rumbled, "Fair e-"

"Down!" John hissed as he rounded a corner and spotted a distant thermal signature, poised at the middle-point of one of the higher mounds of rubble near to the cracked old wall.

Laid on the worn, ancient rocks, John pulled himself forward on a hand until he reached the lip of a drop-off, held up by an ancient length of still solid foundation exposed by the rain. The drop was maybe ten feet into the mud at the edge of a wide half circle of open ground maybe thirty yards in diameter, cut off by a stretch of crumbling, ruined wall with water running down it where it pooled in the clearing. There were dozens of breaks in the walls, ranging from big enough to crawl into to large enough for Tar and he to walk through abreast, but all were dark.

And watched over by a Watcher built into the wall, fused flesh and metal warping into a ball of disgusting machinery that had seemingly been melted into the ancient stone.

"Watcher." Doe explained as the Krogan joined him, laying on his side with his Revenant between them. Not even turning, he grunted, "Rain should be back on us in-"

"Now." Tar grunted as the downpour slammed down onto them in the Reaper's wake. The drops were heavy, stinging at his bare fingers and drumming against his helmet like thunder, but he just turned an unamused look on the Krogan, depolarizing his visor so he could see it. Tar just chuckled, shrugged, and rumbled, "What? I have a good sense of timing."

"Mhm…" John rumbled, darkening his visor and turning back to… Where he had seen the abomination on the wall, before sheets of rain obscured his vision and kept VISR from compensating. "Are you just as good at coming up with a quiet idea to get past that?"

"I'm a Krogan," Tar muttered, "I don't do quiet much…"

"Fair…" He murmured, turning a slow gaze over the flooded clearing and pursing his lips. Rolling onto his back and sliding down below the lip they were sheltered behind, he asked, "How long can you hold your breath?"

"A minute or so…"

"Hmph." Figures that, out of everything, Krogan wouldn't be evolved to hold their breaths with as much redundancy as they had everything else. Though, for an arid planet, he supposed it made sense. Drumming his fingers along his rifle, and dreading the idea he had brewing, he sighed and said, "Hold my rifle?"

"Why…?"

"I have an idea."

ODST armor was, at least technically, sealed, even if he opted for gloves that didn't cover his trigger-finger when operating planet-side. Plenty of hits, falls, shots, dings and general wear and tear left him less than confident it would keep that 'space worthy' warranty, if push came to shove, unless he repaired it. But… He knew the helmet's seals worked properly.

And water was another matter entirely besides.

Submerged in the brown muck, he pulled himself along the ground inches below the water line, dragging himself over and around bits of rock and metal as he made his way. In the underwater darkness, the dim lights of his HUD felt like beacons, glaring into his eyes. And, overhead, the dull thrum of the incessant downpour echoed into and around him like he was being shaken. Like he was falling from orbit, debris raining down around him as he struggled to get at a leak-

"No." He muttered, gritting his teeth. "Not your memories…"

He needed to get to Liara, it seemed, for a check-up…

Shaking that off, he continued on, pulling himself through the water until he ran into a nearly straight, sheer rise in front of him. Grinning, he turned and rolled onto his side so he could get his legs under him and rise slowly, one hand on the wall. The rain hadn't gotten any lighter and beat down against his armored shoulders, and into the gaps between the plates of armor. It wasn't enough to hurt, of course, but that he could feel it through the padded ballistic weave was… Impressive.

But not as impressive as the wall.

Even after so long, the wall stood tall and relatively intact, pockmarked by impact craters, sections where concrete faults had given way, and heat cracks. The rain had worsened it all, though, and he watched as a section of sheet-rock fell away under the downpour, shattering on one of the nearby mounds. Now he knew to listen, he could hear the distant echo of the shattering sound from more falling away all along the wall, and that gave him more than a little anxiety for the next leg of his plan.

"Well…" He sighed, "At least now I know why mountain climbing was in the curriculum."

The time and rain based damages were gnarly, but left plenty of foot-holds and hand-holds for him to grab onto. The real trick was the rain, making a lot of it slick, and hiding sharp bits of broken off rocks and exposed metal under pools of water left in little divots and crevasses. But he was careful and methodical, slowly pulling himself up the wall in spite of the rain, teeth grit and heart pounding as he went higher and higher. He wanted to hurry, of course, motivated by the distance splashes of red from the Reaper's still ongoing path of destruction, but… If he rushed, he would fall - and the water only promised hidden rocks and lengths of metal for a landing.

He didn't fancy ending up like Wratch had…

It felt like an hour passed before, finally, he spotted something protruding from the wall a few yards away. Turning and peering through the mirk, it didn't take long to recognize the long rifle and malformed head. He'd only reached its level, though, so he kept climbing, arms burning from all the work as he scrambled up and to the side, until he was almost over it-

That was when a bit of rock finally came loose under his grip and he slipped, nearly falling as a length of ancient concrete the length of his leg came away and fell, shattering on the abominat's warped head and shoulders.

It was still for a moment as Doe recovered, arms trembling now from all the effort before its head suddenly snapped down and twisted, peering up at him with one scarlet eye. It screamed, loud and long, and John swore as it tried to turn and bring its heavy weapon to bear. Its body hadn't been made for it, of course, but he could see flesh and metal ripping as it forced itself to turn, and it didn't need to hit him to knock him off, and the fall would do the rest…

Unless he controlled the fall.

"Shepard is going to shoot me for it, but… Here goes something." He muttered, turning and dropping with a snarl.

He slammed into the abomination with all the force of three hundred odd pounds of gear, man, and water soaked into ballistic armor. It was an impact that left him aching, and the force of it all landing on something's shoulders should have broken it. But the Watcher just shoot its head and tried to snap at him with it mandibles, bucking and twisting to throw him off. Doe barely managed to hang on, legs wrapped around the warped barrel of its heavy gun as a hand grabbed at its ruin Turian fringes and the other found his knife and pulled it free.

The monster didn't stop until he'd nearly carved its head off…

Sucking in air, he hung there for a minute before slowly, laboriously climbing down again.

"Human!" He heard, looking down when he was only a few feet away to meet Tar's gaze.

Which proved to be a mistake when he slipped again and, this time, failed to recover, falling with a barely contained squawk of surprise. Powerful Krogan hands plucked him from the air as he fell, but didn't catch him entirely, breaking his fall but still dropping him in the mud. Pain lanced up his back and hips from where he'd crashed earlier, and then hit the Reaper, but nothing felt broken.

So he groaned and let Tar tug him from the mud and rubbish, grumbling, "That went well…"

"Hey, you killed it." Tar shrugged, "And quiet enough it doesn't seem to have called help. So…"

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, taking the rifle the Krogan offered him and shouldering it irritably. "Let's get moving."

"Right."

The old wall itself was thick enough to have long hallways, broken up by intermittent stairs leading up to upper walkways. Fallen sections of wall, rusted out lengths of grating, and other debris filled the darkness around them alongside the exact amount of water he had been hoping wouldn't have been inside. But…

"No Reapers." He muttered, kneeling on the grated, ancient floor and looking up the hall on his side. "You?"

"None."

"Let's move, then."

"We need to be careful, right?" Tar asked, "Look for a way through without running into a trap?"

"Ideally…" He nodded, raising an eyebrow behind his muddied visor, "We just need to find a breach through to the other-"

The heavy impact of something stubborn, rock hard, and old as dirt slamming into a concrete wall cut him off and he turned as Tar backed up and charged the wall again. The old concrete groaned and cracked under the blow, the few intermittent, flickering lights still working in the old wall. Part of him wanted to say something as the old warrior backed up, rested a hand on the wall they'd come through and charged the wall again. But…

Krogan were direct, after all, so he didn't expect much else.

It took four more heavy hits before the wall began to crumble, sections of rock falling onto the grating inside and crumbling through the grating. The debris splashed into water down below, but he couldn't see what was down there and ignored it. Until, finally, the wall gave way to a heavy slug from the Krogan and Tar pushed through, ripping it open enough to admit them.

"There." He grunted as Doe stepped out beside him and Tar turned, smiling widely like an almost… Feral creature. "And they couldn't have expected that, eh?"

"No." John chuckled, "I suppose they couldn't…"

Outside the wall was a wide concourse that ran along it surrounding a huge, open space. Most of the open space was filled with low, open stretches of ground long since filled with rainwater, but several landings broke it up. Each was wide and roughly ovular, with a towering, tapering, weathered apex that he was sure had served ceremonial purposes in their long lost past. A third landing lay more than half-ruined, though, with its spire collapsed into the water on the far side…

Which almost reached the other end where, standing just beyond several far newer, metal constructions built into the wall, John could see the Shroud… With a veritable army of Reapers trolling the landings and concourse that surrounded it, heading to any of a half dozen hot points along the southern-ish flank where his VISR's intermittently working systems were detecting motion. And where he could see tracers arcing out across the water from more survivors all along the left side trying to breach into the inner section.

"Left to help the others," John asked, "or right, where it's quiet…?"

"Both." John turned to cock his head and the Krogan smirked, gesturing at the fighting and rumbling, "I'll make the noise you need to come in the back. We all have the override Solus gave us. Use it, cut the rain, and get air power back in."

"Got it." He nodded, standing and turning, "Happy hunting."

"You, too, Human."

XxX-XxX-XxX

Shepard stepped out onto the concourse and looked up at the steadily clearing sky as Wrex and Garrus followed her, flanking Mordin and Eve as several Kodiaks came up from behind the wall and dropped down to hover over the water. Turian soldiers filed out the doors as soon as they'd opened, moving off to her right to help secure the inside of the old temple grounds. Past it and on the far side, she could see fighters banking through the clearing sky as they harassed the Destroyer, keeping its attention while they worked. Even with them, though, the Destroyer was still heading their way.

And sure to reach them before they were done…

So she turned and grunted, "Let's move."

The Shroud itself was a towering thing that loomed over a series of several labs built right in front of it along the outside of a great ring of ancient, worn concrete left flooded by the storm. Four ancient, dilapidated statues surrounded a small, partially submerged landing in its middle that Wrex gestured at as they marched along the curve, headed towards the main labs and the primary lift to get into the Shroud itself.

"Some of the greatest Maw-Hammers on Tuchanka." Wrex rumbled, "They're older than almost any Clan alive today. They even predate the war the Salarians uplifted us from the aftermath of… And, supposedly, they call on Kalros."

"Kalros?" Shepard asked, curiosity getting the better of her in spite of their surroundings.

"The greatest, oldest, biggest Thresher Maw anyone's ever seen." Wrex explained, "Legends say she's the mother of 'em all."

"Impressive." Mordin added, "Would be intrigued to see."

"The Hammers, or the Maw?"

"Either." Mordin chuckled, "Presuming survival regarding seeing the latter."

"After we're done here, we'll see, kids." Shepard said as they reached the labs, "We have work to do."

"You're damn right." A familiar voice called out as they came in and descended the steps int the work area. The ODST was battered, with pitted burns and dents along his armor, but he stood easily enough as Shepard came over and threw an arm around him. As she pulled away he explained, "I got the over-ride in and set up exactly as I was told. It put the Shroud into standby."

"Good work." Shepard smiled, turning, "Solus?"

"Need to do final checks." He nodded, "Access granted by override will allow lab work. Final prep, ascent, dispersal. Victory."

"How long?"

"Too long." Mordin answered gravely, turning as the Reaper, fed up by now, finally smashed through the outer wall and lumbered into the great arena, hurling rock into the new lake and sending water flying as it let out a deafening roar. "Need solution for that…"

"If it's my life or Tuchanka…" Eve murmured, "Then let it be Tuchanka, Doctor."

"But…" Mordin shook his head, "No. No more dead young mothers."

"Mordin, I understand your feelings, but-"

"No you do not!" He suddenly shouted, shooting Shepard a glare that quickly washed away into something more pained… Before he took a breath, shook his head, and said, "No, Commander. No you do not. Will not sacrifice more innocents. Can't. Besides, Krogan need Eve."

"I am hardly so important…"

"The hell you aren't." Wrex huffed, tapping the side of his head, "Don't get me wrong, I'm no moron. But I don't have the head for politics like you do. Not beyond forcing the Clans to do what I want. You, though…"

"Stabilise alliances." Mordin filled in, "Allow long term stability. Without that, Krogan fall back on old ways. War. Death. Genophage again… Or worse."

A long moment of silence stretched between them as everyone weighed his words, before Wrex finally asked, "So, what's the plan, then?"

"Kill the Reaper." She shrugged, sighing behind her helmet and shaking her head. "Nothing else will do it. And… I might have a plan that should work."

"Oh?" Wrex raised a ridged brow, "And why do I think this is going to be a fun plan, like the old days?"

"Because you know me." She sighed, turning to ask, "John, are you up for one last play?"

"Give the order, Commander." He nodded, "And we'll get it done."

"Good. Wrex, you fall back. You're too important to lose if this goes sideways, and I need someone with a brain commanding the defence here regardless." And the retreat, if everything went sideways, but she left that unsaid. Ignoring the dread in her gut, she turned and went on, "Mordin, Even, get to work on final adjustments. Doe and I will get in position to hit the Hammers, and defences will pull the Reaper towards the Shroud so that, when Kalros shows, she sees it first."

"Assuming she shows up, that is…"

"Kalros is like any Maw, Doe, and they're like Krogan. They have long, long memories." Wrex rumbled, laughing loudly as he stepped through them, heading back the way they'd come and calling over his shoulder. "And they can't resist a challenge."

"Alright." The ODST sighed, "Let's go, then, Commander."

Shepard smiled, nodded, and turned to lead him up the stairs in Wrex's wake.

XxX-XxX-XxX

The Shroud had been built above the shrine that housed the Hammers of Kalros, but the Krogan were a naturally stubborn, paranoid people. So even when the Salarians had first come, and doubtless been playing more as the kindly miracle workers than anything else, the Krogan had demanded some separation for their sacred sites. So the Shroud had been built up over a walkway that was only fifty yards long at best, leading to the sturdy platform where he'd seen the Krogan statues from before.

"Come on." Shepard grunted as they jogged along the wide, open platform, using one of the shrine-spires that ran the middle of the arena to hide from the oncoming Reaper. A lance of red carved out along the concourse, twisting and flicking to catch a Turian fighter and blast it apart, and Shepard snapped, "Damn!"

"Shepard?" John called out when she stumbled on a fallen bit of debris, shaken by the sheer force of the attack.

"I'm fine." She assured him as they went, waving his gaze up as the Reaper rounded the corner beyond the statues, shouldering the fragile shrine-spire over and then forcing it all the way down with a foot, blaring a roar as it fired along the top of the wall, trying to pick off more fighters. "We need to move!"

"Don't wait for me!" He gasped, exhaustion and injury steadily slowing him down, and making him wish he had the gene-mods Shepard did. Or, well, the basic ones - he didn't envy earning the ones only she had. Still, he ran, following the woman as the Reaper turned its gaze on the Shroud.

And them, a moment later.

"Reaper!" He roared just as it blared its horn, sending the focused sound waves shaking straight through to their bones.

"I see it!" He barely heard Shepard say as its main weapons warmed up - just before a heavy round slammed into the side of its focusing array and the build-up discharged violently, sending red fury arcing up its spine. "Did you see that?"

"Less talking." He panted as they reached the stairs down, into the little depression built between all the statues and the two, flanking Maw-Hammers. Grabbing the edge of a hunk of rubble in the middle he pulled himself to one side and gasped a parting, "More running."

"You take that one." Shepard said, half turning as she climbed several stairs, "I'll hit this one. And keep an eye out- If I were the Reapers, I'd have something watching it."

"Right." His sensor systems had been steadily clearing as the rain broke, so he was confident he'd be able to scan any Watchers that had somehow survived the fighting.

Neither of them said anything else as they parted, sprinting up the stairs towards the Maw Hammers. He was a few steps away when he head a titanic whump and felt it reverberate through the stone around him. It was so intense he stumbled, and had to catch himself on a wall, before it did it again. And continued to repeat, in a slow rhythm that was so powerful it seemed to mute the sounds of the battle beyond.

"Come on." He grunted at himself, forcing his burning legs to keep moving. "Shepard won't let you live it down if you let her come and do it for you…"

The top of the stairs lead an open, crumbling landing suspended over the new lake the Reapers had drowned the Old City with, and looking out along the concourse around him. The Hammer trigger itself was just as old and won, and ornate, made of a huge turn-handle built into a metal-decorated slab held up on the back of a kneeling Krogan whose features had long since worn away.

Not for the first time, he wished he could see this all in its prime…

He hesitated at the end of the stairs for a moment before he stepped out, watching lines of tracer fire and the Reaper's beam carving apart the sky and earth around them, casting bright colors across the water like stars. Hundreds of heat signatures and electrical readouts pinged across the open expanse, but… He couldn't pick any out well enough to even tell Reapers apart from anything else in the chaos, let alone anything watching him.

"Well…" He sighed, "Here goes another bit of something…"

Jogging out of the entrance and around the console, he slid his rifle on the back and grabbed the ancient lever. Caked in grime and rust, and slippery from the rain, it didn't want to move when he grabbed it. He had to wrap an arm under and around it, nestling the handle in the crook of his elbow, and leaned back to throw his weight into turning it. Which seemed to actually be working, earning groaning protests from the metal-

A moment before he heard a muted whistle and felt something slam into his back, pitching him forward so hard he hit the stone pedestal and was thrown around it, shields sparking around him and refusing to rise again, like they'd been hit by a heavy Disruptor round. He turned, looking for the sniper and reaching for his rifle at the same time, before another impact slammed into his leg and threw it out from under him, fire screaming up from his thigh.

"Fuck…" He groaned, grabbing the barbed shaft protruding through his thigh armor. Cueing his comms, he grunted, "Shepard, are-"

Roaring in the concourse cut him off, and he turned as the Reaper loomed over them and Brutes dropped around him. Plenty missed, sinking into the water to hopefully drown, and others bounced off the stone around him at angles that broke them. But a few made it down, thundering into the open area at the bottom of the stairs where he heard a familiar popping sound.

Before she even answered, he knew Shepard would report, "Reapers in the entrance- I'm holding them, but there's too many! Wrex?"

"Sending teams your way." He answered, "Sixty seconds, but we need the second Hammer running before the Reaper finds it and blasts it."

"Doe?"

"Hit." He grunted, forcing himself up and spraying fire across the concourse over the water, hoping against hope to suppress whoever was targeting him. "Moving, I'm at the- Agh!"

A second round slammed into his arm as he rounded the pedestal again and leaned against it, pinning his arm to the old stone at an angle that stopped him from throwing his weight against the lever again. He heard Shepard shout for him, but he couldn't spare her the attention, grabbing several grenades off his belt and tossing them into the water to superheat it and spray it up, and cover him. The harpoon was barbed along its shaft, with metal spines sticking forward and back to prevent what he had to do-

But he didn't have many options, so he threw his weight back, dragging his arm off the harpoon with a wet cutting sound and a ragged scream. Stars and darkness washed across his vision, and he thought he wouldn't manage it until he stumbled back, leaving a hunk of his arm behind.

"John, you fucking answer me?" Shepard screamed across the line, "What he hell-"

"Got pinned. Harpoon. Got free." He gasped, stumbling against the console and swaying as he wrapped his good arm around it and threw himself back, slowly pulling the handle. "Come on, you bitch! Turn!"

"John?!"

"Agh!" He shouted as it suddenly broke through and slammed into place, sending him stumbling back as another harpoon shot through the clearing air behind him and buried itself in the stone where he'd been standing. He stumbled for cover behind it, grunting as the Hammer whined and thrummed, "Got it…"

Then a second round like the first to hit him thwacked against his helmet, sending him spinning to the ground as ceramics and metals sprayed around him and pain blossomed along the side of his head.

Vision swimming, he watched the Reaper over them turn, blaring a threat as something massive surged out of the water just beyond where he lay and slam into it

"Ha." He muttered, "I win…"

Then, as he felt the ground under him shudder and start to give way under him, he passed out.

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Altered the layout of the final scene a bit, to offer some nuance, counter play, and realism- The attentive out there will note two people hitting John here. Snipers function in teams, after all, and I wanted to reflect that. Further, they only used ONE Salarian weapon for similarly understandable reasons - using a non Union one adds some deniability. You can probably guess the non-Union weapon used, lmao.

Also what does everyone think of the Reapers essentially adding a lake to Tuchanka? I haz plans.

I still feel like I suck at grand-spectacle battles, tho, lmao.

Anyways, hope you all like it.

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