"We're at war. No one wants to admit it but Humanity's under attack." (part this mass effect role playing group: http://amasseffectroleplay.tumblr.com/ )
(Source: batarianslaver, via subject-0)
In a large space station orbiting a dying star, within the confines of a large, dim hanger bay, a tiny figure could be seen scurrying between the sleeping space craft that inhabited the hanger. The creature made its way towards the rear of the large area, crawling under the shuttles and fighter ships, apparently searching for something of great importance. Just as the little one’s head peaked under another shuttle, the low lights within the hangar suddenly brightened fully.
The hangar bay doors began to open, revealing five small fighter craft approaching to dock. Each one lined up neatly in two rows. The orange Cerberus logo painted on each ship gleamed bright under the lights. Lt. Driscoll exited his aircraft and slid down the side of his ship, landing lightly on his feet. He turned to the other ships and watched as each of his squad mates climbed out of their craft. They were moving slowly; and as each one took off their helmets, dejection could be seen in all their faces.
Driscoll took off his helmet, a stern expression on his face. He didn’t like the men acting like this, they couldn’t linger on the pain of the previous mission. Monk seemed to be the only one unaffected by anything that had happened. But then again, Driscoll sensed that Monk was more than slightly disturbed. “Hey!” They all quickly looked up at the sound of their commanding officer’s voice. “Just because we lost a lot of men today doesn’t mean you can drag your boots like a bunch of children.” He gestured towards the now closed hangar doors, “We defeated a great enemy today, that should be enough for you.”
“We? Who the bloody hell is we?” One of the squad mates, Turkish, said with a harsh tone, “Without Shepard or Nellis we’d be dust, and now we don’t have N-”
Driscoll’s tall figure closed the space to Turkish quickly, squeezing a hand around his throat tightly. “Listen,” He growled, “I don’t give a damn about Shepard. It was with our help that she survived, not the other way around. And as for Nellis, forget about him.” He released his grip, and Turkish stepped back, taking sharp quick breaths and rubbing his neck. Lt. Driscoll looked at the rest of his squad, all of whom were staring at him with anger in their eyes. “I’m your commander now, understood?” They all nodded in response. The Lieutenant turned on his heel and walked off. Driscoll had intended to make the squad angry at him, to make them place all of the blame for what had happened upon his shoulders rather than their own. It wasn’t conventional leadership, but he had worked with these men long enough to know that it would work.
After the rest of the Cerberus crew dispersed, the volus that had been foraging through the hangar came out of a cargo crate that he had taken refuge in when he was startled by the sudden arrival of the fighter ships. With a squeal of delight, Pinky scooped up a glittering piece of jewelry that had been lying next to the crate. He’d found the trinket he had been searching hours for, and carefully placed it in one of his environmental suit’s hidden pockets. After making sure the pocket was securely sealed, he ran off to inform his boss of what had just transpired.
The office doors slid open with a gentle hiss, allowing Pinky to waddle into the room. He saw the Illusive Man standing in front of the panoramic window that looked out upon the dying star. It filled the room with a bright blue glow. He stood without his cane, his knee now healed enough to not need it, and a glass of brandy clutched in his left hand. The Illusive Man held up his right hand to silence Pinky before he even began speaking. “Did you find it?”
“Yes sir.” Pinky unsealed his hidden pocket, and handed off the glittering necklace. Without removing his gaze from the sun, the Illusive Man clenched his fist around the object. Two gold rings around a silver necklace, a simple trinket that held little monetary value. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and waved Pinky away, again without dropping his gaze.
The Illusive Man spoke a name and his computer instantly called the individual. “Lt. Driscoll, since you’re in command of my fighter squadron now, I need you to replace the men you lost. Do it quickly, Lieutenant.”
“Already on it, sir.”
He downed the rest of his brandy, then finally tore his eyes away from the window to go sit down. A few moments later he had sent Kai Leng and Frank Castro messages asking for updates on their situations. He sat in his chair, legs crossed, idly twirling the empty glass in his hand and again staring out into space. The Illusive Man was trying to keep his mind off the situation with Shepard and the Reapers, because every time he thought about it he got a horrible headache. For the first time in his life, Jack Harper felt like a very old man fighting a losing battle.
Monk heard the moans in the distance, and smiled to himself. “Shiva, goddess of destruction, grant me strength.” he muttered, holding his pistol out in front of him. He did not fear the Reapers, nor their nefarious creations. He believed that death was a necessary act of…
Monk ejected a thermal clip as he listened to Alenko’s orders. He reloaded his weapon and thought for a moment about how best to bypass the husk’s shields. “Driscoll,” he said into his helmet’s communication unit, “I’m going to hit the shielded enemies with a throw field, be ready to open fire when I do so.”
“Roger.” Blondie tapped Driscoll on the shoulder and showed him a grenade belt he had pulled out of the duffel bag they had brought with them. “That’ll do nicely.”
A couple yards behind them, Monk popped out of cover, firing a few shots a the legionnaires to get their attention. Once their shields faced him, Monk’s muscular figure glowed blue as he charged up his biotic ability. He thrust his arm out and a surge of energy rushed towards the husks, smashing into their shields and sending them staggering backwards. Blondie used the opening to his advantage, activating one of the grenades on the belt and hurling the entire thing at the legionnaires’ feet. “Fire in the hole!” They all ducked low behind their cover as a massive explosion lit up the chamber.
(Source: salvationthroughdestruction)
A quick concussive shot knocked away the shield of one of the Legionnaires, and as he bent to retrieve it, Zaeed quickly tossed an inferno grenade into the gap in the shieldwall. Two of the monstrosities immediately went up in flame. ”Burn, you greasy bastards,” Zaeed howled triumphantly. He began to fire again, but the remaining Legionnaires had already reformed their wall, and his shots again failed to find their targets. ”Alenko,” Zaeed called out to the Spectre, who had taken up a position behind him. ”Hack down those omnishields so I can get a clear shot and take out the little bastards. Shepard needs to be able to focus on the big asshole without getting swarmed.”
“THE FABRIC OF REALITY BENDS TO MY WHIM.”
The possessed Archon responds to Zaeed’s assault by briefly levitating above the phalanx’s shieldwall and hurling a Singularity at the mercenary before floating back down.
“DO NOT RESIST FURTHER, SHEPARD. ACCEPT THE INEVITABLE.”
Monk heard the moans in the distance, and smiled to himself. “Shiva, goddess of destruction, grant me strength.” he muttered, holding his pistol out in front of him. He did not fear the Reapers, nor their nefarious creations. He believed that death was a necessary act of cleansing. He planned to cleanse this battlefield. Then the glowing Archon dropped from the ceiling, and he jumped into cover.
Driscoll and Blondie, meanwhile, crouched together behind a low wall, popping up randomly to fire. Blondie was trying to find an opening to get one of grenades through the shields of the Legionnaires. He managed to time one of them so it exploded above their heads. He watched with satisfaction as they staggered from the blast, leaving themselves open to fire. Suddenly the glowing, monstrous form of the Archon floated out its cover, and they ducked back behind their wall to avoid whatever attack it may through at them. A yell came from behind them. Driscoll turned to see Zaeed caught in a biotic singularity.
Monk quickly took notice of Zaeed’s plight. The dark energy within him hummed to life, and his arm glowed bright blue as he pulled Zaeed out of the singularity and towards him. The old mercenary hurtled towards Monk’s cover. He grabbed him by the collar with one hand before he slammed into the wall, and placed him down. He gave Zaeed a nod, then spun out of cover and opened fire on the hulking Alpha.
Taking a step back, the thief radioed her commander. “It’s done, Shepard.” Her voice was strained. Clearing her throat and renewing her resolve, she continued, “Only the gravity remains. Should I take the shuttle and send it back once aboard the Memphis or should I make my way…
“Monk, Blondie, you’re with me. Bob, stay here with Turkish and be ready to provide backup if we need it.” Driscoll ordered his squad as he scanned the surface of the Reaper ship. “See where that Kodiak just took off? That’s where we’ll land.” The three fighter craft flew with Driscoll in the lead in a V formation. The hanger that they approached accommodated all three of the ships. Once landed, Driscoll popped open the cockpit, grabbed his assault rife that was attached to the back of his seat, and jumped out.
Blondie and Monk were already standing next to their ships; Monk with a pistol in his right hand, and Blondie with a shotgun slung across his shoulder. “Alright gentlemen,” Driscoll said, “Shepard is going to need extra ammo, so what do we have?” Blondie meandered over to his ship. He tapped a panel near the wing of the ship, a hidden storage area revealed itself from which he pulled a duffel bag. He tossed the bag at Driscoll’s feet and placed his shotgun back over his shoulder. “Lots of thermal clips and a couple grenades. Nice one.” He pulled the bag over his head and shoulders and let it hang at his side. “Why exactly do you have this, Blondie?”
He simply shrugged and said, “I never leave home without it.”
“Fair enough.” Driscoll motioned his squad to follow him and they began jogging through the guts of the Reaper ship. A few minutes of searching later and they found themselves in the same hallway as Commander Shepard. The Cerberus team approached her and Driscoll presented her with the duffel bag and made introductions. “Lt. Marcas Driscoll,” He said, placing a hand on his chest, “Ensign Isaac Monk,” he pointed to Monk’s intimidatingly tall figure, who nodded at the Commander, “and Warrant Officer Clyde Jackson.” Blondie gave a lazy salute in response. “At your service, Commander.”
(Source: salvationthroughdestruction)
Nellis, despite the crippling fear rising inside him, immediately took action. He unstrapped himself from the seat, and gripped the pilot’s seat in front of him to prevent floating out of the cockpit. Still clutching the seat, he reached over Dutch’s shoulder and grabbed the straps, but found the blast he suffered had fused the buckles together. With a grunt he yanked out the knife that Dutch always kept fastened to his thigh. With a few swift motions he cut his friend free, and let him float out of the cockpit. For a second Nellis stared up at his friend’s body floating in space, the scene reflected on his helmet’s visor. For a second he wanted to join Dutch in the stars, simply let go and forget his troubles. Nellis looked away with a grimace, knowing he had precious little time to enact the plan that he had just formed. He pulled himself into the pilot’s chair, and pressed the co-pilot seat ejection button. The seat silently rocketed off into the void.
Nellis flipped himself over the pilot seat and secured himself over the now exposed floor panel. He took out the pistol holstered on his hip, and blasted the locking mechanism off with one shot. After tossing the pistol over his shoulder, he leaned down and tore off the panel, letting it float away. The FTL drive core was now exposed, mechanical parts glowing blue with the eezo running through them. He dug through the parts, his breathing growing heavy and fast, trying to pry open a gap big enough for his arm to fit through. His helmet’s communicator buzzed to life again making him wince. He fully expected another message from the Reaper.
“Sir, what the hell are you doing? Get out of there!”
“No can do, Driscoll.” Nellis was saddened to hear his Lieutenant’s voice. He didn’t have time to explain what he was doing, he simply hoped the young officer would be able to handle it. “The damn Reaper has taken control of this thing, it’s piloting me right towards those tentacles.” Suddenly a shadow passed over the cockpit, making him look up. He saw two of the tendrils hovering above him, ready to crush him in a matter of seconds. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Nellis saw the nose of his craft was pointed directly at the hull of the Reaper ship. “You’re in charge now, Lieutenant.” He powered up his omni tool, and shoved his arm through the gap he had created in the drive core’s mechanics. “Fly well, my friend.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and activated his omni tool’s overload. The eezo core glowed a fierce blue from the sudden power that shot through it, and an instant later the ship was traveling at two hundred thousand miles per second. The ship collided with the Reaper vessel, giving off a light as bright as any sun and an explosion that tore the abdomen of the vessel almost totally in half. It clung on by a small piece of its hull and the multiple cables that spanned the length of the ship.
Driscoll’s eyes finally readjusted to the light after being momentarily blinded by the explosion. He gazed at what was left of the Reaper vessel. It resembled a cracked egg with husks and various other ominous looking tech spilling out of it. Driscoll gritted his teeth and flew directly at the ship, the rest of the squad quickly followed. The Alliance ship Sierra had already started firing upon the now exposed core. The three fighter ships fired a single volley of missiles, pulling up and away afterwords. The second explosion paled in comparison to the first, but it was enough to completely destroy what was left of the Reaper ship. The pieces of hull floated away lifelessly. Lt. Driscoll switched his engines to idle and tore off his helmet, burying his head in his hands. “Why did he have to do that?”
“Commander Nellis did not lead a blessed life, Driscoll.” Monk said as he piloted towards the rest of his squad, Turkish’s ship attached to his via a magnetic cable. “I believe this was his way of absolving himself of his sins. Do not mourn him, or any of our other fallen comrades. They died honorably.” Monk joined the squad’s formation and switched his engines to idle as well. “By the way, Turkish is not quite dead yet, only unconscious.”
Driscoll let his hands fall limply in his lap, and leaned back in his seat, staring absently out the cockpit. “There isn’t anything left of them to bury…”
“I know,” replied Monk, “but this is a discussion for a another time.”
The Lieutenant let out a sigh, then opened a comm link to Commander Shepard. “This is Lieutenant Driscoll, I have assumed direct command of the Cerberus squadron. Two of the Reaper vessels have been destroyed. Do you require any assistance?”
Nellis’ squadron flew about the Reaper craft, like flies buzzing around rotten meat. The flack cannons that dotted the hull of the craft were torn apart one by one. Nellis’ crew peppered the guns’ shields with mini-gun fire until they finally fell, leaving the flak cannons open to a barrage of missiles. In a few minutes all that remained of the cannons floated absently in space, blackened and twisted. However, the massive ship could not be rendered defenseless that easily. Its tendrils shot out from various points within the vessel, whipping themselves menacingly at the smaller ships. The Cerberus crew managed to avoid them, ducking over and under the tendrils, and spinning their ships out of the way when one got too close.
“Yeeehaw! These suckers can’t touch us!” Handsome Bob shouted gleefully as he narrowly avoided being crushed between two of the large appendages.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Bob.” Blondie said in his smoky voice.
Nellis knew there wasn’t much else his squad could do at this point other than be a nuisance. If they hung around too long the chances of Bob, or any of them for that matter, getting snagged would only increase. He ordered them all to fall back. He contacted the Normandy as Dutch piloted them into formation. “Lieutenant Moreau? This is Commander Nellis. We’ve managed to do some damage to one of the Reaper ships. Its shields are weakened, so a blast from your thanix cannon should finish them off.”
The six fighter craft changed course and flew towards the crippled Reaper vessel. It was giving one of the Alliance vessels trouble with its tendrils waving dangerously close to the ship’s hull. Nellis signaled the Alliance ship to back off and bombard the Reaper from a distance. “My squad will be there shortly to harass them, just hold tight.”
On their way, they flew directly over the besieged Alliance ship. Nellis noticed that a shuttle had docked with it. “Must be Shepard performing her daring heroics again,” he thought to himself with a slight smile. Just as he was about to look away from the ship, one of the tendrils that had been wrapped tightly around the hull disengaged and flung itself upwards with alarming speed. Nellis watched in horror as the tendril smashed right into the underbelly of Turkish’s ship, swatting it away like a fly. They heard a yelp of pain through their comm units, then silence as the ship careened off into space, spinning wildly. “Monk, stabilize that ship and make sure he’s okay! Everyone else, step on it!”
“Acknowledged, sir.” Monk banked his ship to the right and pursued Turkish.
The other ships quickly got out of range of the tendrils. The one that had attacked them lowered itself back onto the hull, once again tightening its vice-like grip. The squad was now two men down, and wouldn’t be nearly as effective against the other Reaper craft, even if its shields were already slightly damaged. The four ships banked left in unison and initiated their first run through the flak cannons. However, this time something was off. The cannons weren’t simply firing wildly at each ship, hoping to get a lucky shot off, the Reapers had adapted to them. Now as they flew across the round hull of the vessel, the cannons focus on only one of them to increase their chances of hitting it. It was Dutch’s ship that had the honor of being targeted first, forcing him to perform evasive maneuvers as the others attempted to wipe out the cannons.
“This is Alliance ship Sierra, do you require assist-”
“You can assist us by blowing this thing to hell!” Nellis said, not caring that he had interrupted them. Pleasantries did not have a place in war.
Dutch’s shields were starting to fail, and just as Nellis was about to give the order to fall back, the shields failed completely and a cannon shot collided with the cockpit glass, shattering it. Nellis ducked his head down instinctively, coving his face with his forearms as shrapnel pelted him. He looked back up, noticing a stream of blood floating out the now open cockpit. Dutch was dead. He desperately tried to get main control of the ship from the dying consoles. His comm unit had been knocked out, so the only sounds that accompanied Nellis was that of his own breathing and pounding heartbeat. His fingers flew across the various displays in front of him, attempting to turn the ship and activate the afterburners or FTL drives. Finally, the display in front of him changed from blinking red back to orange, and he began turning the ship away from the Reaper vessel. Just as he did so, the comm unit in his helmet began crackling, and a deep ominous voice spoke three words that made Commander Nellis more fearful than he had ever been in his life:
“Assuming direct control.”
It re-materialised in front of the SSV Memphis and slammed into the cruiser with full force. Immediately, the assault craft began wrapping its limbs around the Alliance ship, magnetised talons aiding its grip as it shifted into position, arms constantly…
Before Nellis had a chance to order his squad to scatter and try to find a sign of the enemy, their foe showed themselves. The scanners of all the fighter ships lit up with activity from three large vessels. Suddenly half of them, including Nellis and Dutch’s craft, were bombarded with a cybernetic attack. Most of their systems were locked down and rendered useless. “Turkish!” Driscoll yelled at the squad’s tech expert. Only Lieutenant Driscoll, Turkish, and Monk weren’t hit with the attacks, all they could do was fly evasive maneuvers while trying to wrestle control of the other ships from the Reapers.
“Yeah I’m working on it!” Turkish’s gloved hand flew across his controls, but the Reapers’ hacking methods were far too advanced for him to comprehend. However, his attempts were unnecessary, because just as quickly as the attack started, it ceased. The Normandy had opened fire on one of the vessels, and the Reapers had to redirect their attention.
Immediately Nellis ordered them all back into formation, and they went on the attack themselves. Just as they were about to fire, their charge was halted by an ear splitting scream filtered through the communication channels. Commander Nellis clutched his helmet and gritted his teeth against the noise; but before any of them could register what it had been, the broadcast ended. “Um… Sir?” Dutch was pointing out in front of them at the Reaper ships. “I don’t think that is normal.” The ships were glowing blue. Goddamn glowing ships.
“It looks like they’re about to charge…” Nellis said, a little dumbfounded, but suddenly he realized they were right in front of one of the ships. “Everyone, bank right! NOW!” The six ships quickly turned in unison and kicked in their afterburners, flying themselves out of harms way. However, one of the Alliance ships wasn’t so lucky. The Reaper vessel smashed into it at full force, sending bits of the hull flying off into space. The vessel wrapped tendrils around the Alliance craft, like some great sea beast dragging its victim down into the depths of the ocean.
Fortunately, the other two vessels missed their targets. Nellis was about to order his men to target the weaker one that had fallen short of the Alliance ships, but Shepard ordered him to redirect and go for the one that had far overshot its target. “Sir, I recommend we go for the turrets first.”
“You read my mind, Blondie.” Nellis pulled on his straps, making sure they were tight and then slapped Dutch on the shoulder. “Turn and burn, Dutch.” The ships again changed course and pointed their noses right at the Reaper ship in the distance. The afterburners activated, giving the engines a violent red glow, and they rocketed through space at over a thousand miles an hour. They reached the enemy in a matter of seconds. They switched off their afterburners and split off into two groups, circling the craft in different directions. Dutch weaved his ship around the turrets, drawing their fire as Blondie and Bob peppered them with machine gun fire. Each ship, traveling at around three hundred miles an hour, was almost impossible to hit. “We just got these sons of bitches in the palm of our hand.” Nellis thought to himself.
The six fighter ships flew behind the Normandy and towards the mass relay. They were close enough to the relay that its light filled their cockpits with a blue glow. Nellis activated his comms unit again, broadcasting only to his squad. “Alright gentlemen, fun times are over, let’s keep a wide formation on this one, no clumping up.” He sighed, trying to think of something inspirational to say did not come easy to a man like Nellis. But he decided to give it a shot. “We’re not exactly ‘good’ men. We’re murderers, thieves, and all around bastards. If everything were right with the galaxy we’d be staring down the barrel of Shepard’s shotgun, rather than flying with her.” Silence was the only answer to the Commander’s words. They all knew he was right. Every one of them had done their fair share of crimes and misdeeds, even when they weren’t employed by the infamous Cerberus. “But everything is not right with the galaxy. Today, do not think of yourselves as loyal dogs bending to your master’s will. No, today we fight alongside the people that have proven themselves as heroes, that do what they believe is right, not just what they are ordered to do. So I will not give you an order, just a request: Do what you know to be right, protect these people with your lives. The Normandy’s crew have done more than we ever could, and will do more than we can imagine. Above all else, they must survive.”
After a short pause, Monk’s deep voice answered him. “It will be done, Nellis.”
The squad leader gave a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at the speech thing after all. “Okay Dutch, lead us through.” Dutch manipulated his controls and entered into range of the mass relay. One blur of blue light later and the relay had flung that ship and the rest of the convoy hundreds of light years away. Everything came into focus again and Nellis activated the scanners and looked over his radar. “Everyone, arm weapons and keep your engines hot.” He looked out the cockpit and into the stars, looking for something, anything, that could be hostile. He activated a communications line to all the other ships. “Do any of you see something? I’m not picking anything up on my scanners.”
As she spoke, the thief started implementing her preferences, fingers running across the controls. She would not fail her commander.
Shepard gave the old admiral a long look as she heard his breaths change, deepen, go into a steady even rhythm that told her that he had…
Commander Nellis rummaged through the cockpit of Dutch’s ship looking for a spare helmet. He finally found one under the co-pilot’s seat he was sitting on and secured it to his head. “Everyone hold position here.” Nellis peered out beyond the cockpit’s window, searching for anything unusual.
“We’re still a few hundred kilometers from our waypoint, Commander.” Dutch observed.
“I know. Don’t want to fall into an ambush. We’ll keep our distance, wait for the Normandy to catch up.” the Commander leaned back in his seat. He closed his eyes and wished for a hot shower and warm bed.
Dutch flipped one of the switches on his console to shut down the engines, then activated the communicator. “Since we may all be dead soon, I’d like to say a few words.”
“Ah here we go…” Handsome Bob said, shaking his head in frustration.
Dutch cleared his throat, ignoring Bob’s comment. “Hence forth none of you will call me Dutch. I am a proud German! Not some Dutch swine! If I am to die here then I want to die as Wilhelm, my proper name.” This remark was met by laughter from the rest of the crew. Even Monk couldn’t help but chuckle and Dutch’s absurdity. “Cease your mockery! I’m being serious, you fools!”
“My apologies, Lord Wilhelm.” Bob exclaimed, putting extra emphases on the last two words.
Turkish chimed in, “Mate, we’ve only ever called you Dutch because we know it pisses you right off.”
Nellis leaned forward and patted Dutch on the shoulder. “Sorry buddy, the name’s stuck. In fact, the only one of us who is in need of a name change is Handsome Bob.”
“What are you talking about?” Bob said defensively. “I find it rather fitting.”
The rest of the crew completely lost it, but Nellis tried his best to contain his laughter. “Bob, I got to be honest with you, you’re the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.” Bob simply grumbled to himself in his cockpit while they all laughed at him. The console in front of Nellis beeped, signaling an incoming call from Commander Shepard. He quickly composed himself and listened to what the Commander had to say.
“Shepard here. We’re twenty-six minutes from your position. Have you detected any movement out there?”
“No we have not, ma’am. Hopefully we can find something before it finds us.” He tapped Dutch on the helmet, letting him know to get everyone in formation. “See you soon, Commander.”
