Chapter 2.1: Omega - Erzengel I

German for: Archangel.

"I wake up every morning. I open my eyes and think: Here we go again." - Andy Warhol

Approaching the SR-2's docking bay was enough to raise my heartbeat significantly. Then I turned around the corner, and…

Yeah. It was… something else.

It's one thing knowing that the SR-2 is significantly larger than the SR-1 was. Seeing it in person… another story altogether. Even in Cerberus colors, the ship was beautiful - sleek, with that impressive fuselage, alongside the fins at the bow of the vessel, giving the distinct impression of an arrow fired in anger.

Naturally, it didn't take the servicemen nearby long to figure out that there was a stranger eyeing up their ship. Naturally, one of 'em - a complete stranger, as it seemed - dropped whatever they were doing and approached me. I had a feeling that I recognized them, but…

"This is a restricted area. Do you have business here?"

On second glance, Gardner was strange - but obviously no stranger.

"Apologies." I took my mask off, there was no need to scare them. My tiny smile was meant to be friendly as well. "The Commander told me she'd radio ahead to let you guys know that I'm coming. I'm Raven."

Credit where credit is due - he approached me fearlessly, one hand near the pistol on his hip. Then it hit him - no one with an interest in stealing goods would possibly carry a large and obviously filled backpack and drag an equally unwieldy trolley behind them, right?

"One moment." Raising two fingers to one ear, he activated his implanted radio and began quietly asking a few questions - likely to confirm my claim.

I, meanwhile, let my gaze wander over the hull. And no matter how long it had been - seeing NORMANDY written in proximity to a Cerberus insignia was just wrong. Orange clearly did not belong on a ship that was reminiscent of the Alliance, after all.

"... Copy that. Thank you." Lowering his hand, he gestured me closer. "Sorry about that, sir. You're clear to come aboard. Head straight for the briefing room. You know where that one is, right?"

"Affirm, thanks." Only now did he seem to realize how much weight I was carrying. One hand was occupied with a trolley, a rather heavy backpack - and a 22nd-century-version of a pelican case in the other hand.

"I can take this off you, Sir," he offered. No doubt just to be polite, without actually meaning it - it was part of the job. What he didn't know- - I was not above exploiting those kinds of offers. Sure, I could have taken all the luggage myself… but, after all, if they asked, who was I to decline?

"Appreciated. Just toss 'em into the cargo bay - I'll sort it out later. Question, though - has Shepard returned yet? We're kind of in a hurry,". I inquired."

Running to the rental storage (a small business, but incredibly discreet and trustworthy considering the reputation of this station and thus the preferred choice of Migrant Fleet Marines whenever we had business here) and returning to the docking bays had taken about twenty-five minutes.

I had kind-of expected Shepard to have wrapped up her initial conversation with Aria by then… of course, I was mistaken, as the grizzled sailor told me with a shake of his head.

"Commander Shepard said she'll be back in about fifteen minutes, though,". He said."

I nodded. "Let's get to it, then. Careful!" While I gave up my pelican case and my trolley willingly, just to have both of my hands free to remove my backpack, I did not like how sloppily he handled my stuff.

He groaned as he took my backpacks full weight. About fifty kilograms. And he didn't have the benefits of a strength-enhancing armor.

"Sorry, Sir, I'll make sure the bricks you got in there get to the right construction site."

I had to grin at that. "Apologies, that's my reserve gear. You know, I've been with Shepard through that whole Saren business, and if there's one thing I learnt: Always pack spares. Lots of 'em."

"That's an idea I can get behind." He didn't laugh, but at least he shared my grin. As I prepared to leave - now with only one bag in my hands - I felt like I needed to leave one last, or at least one positive impression. If I wanted to be a bit nit-picky, our Mess Sergeant probably didn't have a future as a professional concierge… but, well, if they also cook your food and clean the toilet, you can't be picky, eh?

"They call me 'Jess Raven' , by the way. Or 'Raven', for short. I'm sorry, but may I ask what's your name, Sir?"

Having called over another young serviceman to help him, he chuckled and looked over his shoulder.

"Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner, Sir."

And with that, it was settled.

The first few steps aboard the final NORMANDY… If you had asked me a few years ago, there would have been two possible ways for me to feel.

Either I would feel overwhelmed, given that this was the ship I would spend the rest of Mass Effect on, therefore, a sign of what was to come. WIth how much of an emotional attachment I felt to the SR-2 and the people it represented…

My first ever Mass Effect game was ME2. Frankly, I was a bit too young for ME1 to catch my interest at the time - but ME2 had been right up my alley. Even though it took me for Mass Effect 3 to be released to give 2 a shot.

Or I would feel underwhelmed, given how much thought I had given to ME 2 and 3 after what had happened on our hunt for Saren. And considering that reality rarely matches expectations… plus, I had two-and-a-half years to get used to the Mass Effect universe at this point, including enough time aboard the Migrant Fleet to almost - Almost! - forget about my purpose here…

In reality, it fell somewhere in the middle. But I guess whelmed is not a word, now is it?

… Wait. No. Actually, it is. It's not what I mean either. Damn you, English Language!

… Back to the topic at hand.

The first obvious change was an improvement of the lighting conditions. If you chose to ignore the far more generous size of the airlock, of course.

I don't know what it was, precisely - but the SR-1, for all its qualities, had always felt a lot like it was stuck in constant dusk-conditions. This might be highly subjective… but when the de-con cycle finally finished and I stepped aboard, that's the first feature that struck me.

Second, of course, was a heart-felt groan coming from my left.

"Oh no. Hell, No."

I froze where I stood, turned my head… and grinned.

"Don't tell me that's you, Flyboy."

"As I live and breathe… Hatchling."

A mere split second later, and I had my arms around Joker. He probably found it awkward. I did not care.

To the be- and amusement of various sailors - or servicemen, assuming that Cerberus used a rank structure similar to the Alliance - around us. Considering how poisonous the NORMANDY's helmsman could be if things went really wrong, that wasn't much of a surprise.

"Hello, Joker." My smile could not be contained. Neither could the euphoria rising in my chest. I was careful to not apply too much pressure - but still - I could tell that this was not a half-hearted gesture.

We let go of each other - for a brief moment I realized how absurd all of this was, that we were greeting each other like long lost brothers. But then I realized that we were, in fact, long-lost brothers… In Arms.

"Good to see that they can't clip your wings."

"They tried, Hatchling." No matter how his spirits were soaring, I could practically taste his sadness… and a hint of determination. "And failed. Just, FYI, if me being here wasn't obvious enough."

A bond created under fire is hard to shake. I learned that lesson early on in my career - and now, hugging Joker as carefully as I could, said bond was reforged.

Words cannot describe how beautiful that was.

Onlookers be damned. For the first time ever, I felt that they could never get on our level anyway.

The usual decontamination cycle, the usual path. From the lock, turn right, walk past the CIC, straight into the briefing room.

Nevermind that this was a different ship, no matter how hard she tried to keep it hers. No matter how often she called it NORMANDY - this ship was different.

Larger. Without any Alliance marines guarding the intersections. Different colors, different people.

Nevermind the fact that she had much preferred the old NORMANDY's briefing room, that circle of seats, over that one table with EDI's console in the middle.

On the surface, Shepard knew what had happened, what she was… 'who' she was. Disregarding two years of everyone around her - evolving? Developing?

Disregarding two years of… what? Being gravely injured? Being Comatose?

Being dead?

You cannot 'disregard' that.

Even that face was off. Why wouldn't it be? In two years, considering that he went from "turning 21" to being "almost 24 years of age", changes were to be expected.

Rationally, Shepard knew that Raven was bound to grow. But the disparity between that smooth-faced, scared, out-of-his-depth recruit to the full-beard-wearing warrior in quarian armor that faced her was simply too much to ignore.

She stopped dead in her tracks, closed her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open her eyes. Disregard all of the eyes outside her focus.

Once more - or for the first time in many months, depending on your interpretation, green eyes locked with steel-blue ones.

Raven smiled.

And saluted.

In his 'normal', relaxed fashion.

"Raven, reporting for duty."

Not a second had passed, and already, I was putting all of my weight onto that flimsy-looking, pseudo-wood table that dominated our former "briefing room".

Now, in an environment that was actually well-lit, it was obvious just how exhausted Shepard was. Not physically. Mentally. She hid it well - but the signs were obvious for someone who had suffered from the same condition. But, again - part of the problem is hiding it from others.

If nothing else, Shepard - true to her ME1 'Paragon' routes - had retained her ability to manipulate people. Neither Jacob nor Miranda suspected that something was off. Well. I should rather say: 'If they suspected as much, they didn't dare to voice it. '

I knew better. But I also knew better than to give Cerberus an advantage.

Which was good enough for me, at that time.

"Commander." I said aloud. Pushing myself off the table, giving Shepard a lax salute.

"Raven, reporting for duty."

If contrasted & compared against the Citadel, Omega was a maze.

By nature, by design? Does it matter? The often-proclaimed "Center of the Galaxy" against the, supposedly, backwater nature of Omega?

I didn't really care for those fine details at that point in time. There is a time for studying linguistics, philosophy and what we humans would call 'anthropology'... and there is a time for action, movement, aggression.

I was rather fortunate, in that sense. Omega's chaotic nature and the many air vents drilled into this rock, both active and defunct for millennia, allowed anyone competent enough to use them a chance to move from A to B quicker than even a skycar.

Shepard, Miranda and Jacob had barely left their car when I arrived on the scene as well.

Rumor has it that I jumped out of the vent right at the same time that Shepard's team left their car, our heels touching the ground at the exact same time… But then again, rumors rarely match up to reality.

From my point of view, the vent's heavy iron grille dropped to the ground unheard. I snaked my way out, landed on my feet - a great way to stretch my legs.

Granted, my definition of 'stretching my legs' might be different from what you expect… but how was I supposed to get that ancient 'protective' grille out of its socket otherwise? I'd learned from Garrus, after all - when in doubt, and subtle tools weren't helping, a hefty kick most certainly was.

The loud 'clang' of iron on an iron floor went unheard. Omega was loud in its own right. Or the merc gangs seeking to take down 'Archangel' were scraping the barrel of available manpower more than I had anticipated. And considering that I knew that they'd literally pick up anyone holding a gun for the measly price of five hundred credits, I didn't expect a lot.

Seeing only two Vorcha in Blood Pack markings and a single male Human in outdated and outclassed armor wasting his time arguing with them in my path felt downright insulting, and a waste of my talents.

For about a split-second.

Then I remembered that getting arrogant and complacent was a surefire way to get myself killed, snapped out of it, and cloaked - ready to stalk my prey.

She laughed. A somewhat quiet, somewhat subdued laugh - but still, laughter.

"Good to know that you've retained your fighting spirit, Raven. I guess you know what we're up against?"

"In general, or on this rock?" I smiled thinly. Then I got straight-faced, immediately. "I'll worry about the Collectors later. Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack are getting desperate, so we're short on time."

That caused Shepard to frown. "How did you know we were going to get Archangel?"

Putting my acting skills to the test, I pushed myself off the table and gave her an emotionless stare.

"... you don't know who Archangel is." Just the right tone to make it a statement and sound flabbergasted at the same time.

"Turian. Prefers a blue armor, has blue markings on his face. Expert sniper and marksman. Wears a visor over one of his eyes. And yes, I am certain."

With every word, her eyes grew wider.

"I thought Cerberus knew that." Taking this opportunity to be an absolute ass, I gave Jacob, but Miranda in particular, the same stare. "I was sure that's why you're here. Oh, wow."

Shepard had recovered. Almost… "Fucking hell." A chuckle.

"Don't celebrate yet, Shep." Activating my omnitool, a holographic map of Omega appeared on the table. Courtesy of the Quarian Intelligence Corps. "Unless we get moving ASAP, he's a dead man."

Keep walking. Make sure that your steps make no sound.

Get too close to allow any chance for a miss.

Mentally mark two targets.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Two light trigger pulls from less than five meters away.

Being on the move even before their bodies had fallen to the ground, giving the third one no chance to react.

A swift knee to the lightly armored groin, a heavy punch into the unprotected face as he keeled over, another punch to break the damaged nose.

He was no professional, no fanatic. Just a grunt not paid enough for this. He screamed - rather, grunted - in pain, fell to the ground, instinctively grabbed his nose. Enough of a distraction to send him into deep slumber as my cloak finally broke. That cheap helmet, worse even than the Tier-I-armor I had used all the way in the beginning, would have been more useful as a shopping bag.

A look to my left, a look to my right. No obvious signs of an alarm. I had given them no chance to raise one.

"Shepard, this is Raven. I am approaching my firing position. Haven't been detected, left some bodies though. Can be ready in six minutes - or eight, if you want me to hide the bodies. Do you copy?"

"Copy. Hide them. We can keep talking for a bit longer. I don't want you to take unnecessary risks."

I nodded to myself. The sensible call. "Got it. Will report if the situation changes… but that seems unlikely. Good Luck. Raven, out."

"Give me the sitrep (situation report)." A sudden shift in tone. CO mode activated.

"Long story short. Archangel - Garrus and his team - pissed off all major merc outfits on this station by interfering in their activities. All but 'Queen' Aria herself." As I spoke, the map zoomed in, focusing on a warehouse complex. "OPFOR (opposing force) has him pinned in this warehouse, he's completely surrounded. As far as my intel goes, he's the only one left of his squad, but I wasn't able to confirm that."

Dialing in the map to give a view from multiple angles, I briefly glanced at Shepard's face. Fully focussed. Good to see.

"The area is a slaughterhouse. He's got a perfect view on the only bridge leading there and has been killing everyone who tried to cross. The tunnels leading to his back are blocked. OPFOR will need more time to break through. But that's about where the good news end."

I darted my gaze around all three of them, trying to convey just how bad the situation was.

"At this point, Garrus has been awake for somewhere from forty to fifty hours. Even with combat stims, he's got at most ten hours left in him before he'll collapse from exhaustion. Five is more likely. He's done an excellent job so far. An impressive body count, frankly. But he's starting to make mistakes, and I don't know for how much longer he's got ammo or how long they'll need to remove the blockage from those tunnels. Time is short."

"Have you tried linking up with him?"

"Yes, but by the time I realized what was going on, the encirclement was already complete." That was a lie. I had done other things.

"Even if I could break through, there's no chance I'd be able to get him out or escape - not on my own, at least. I also can't raise him by radio. Either it's damaged, or he's switched it off to prevent himself from getting distracted."

"Okay." Shepard breathed deeply. "Whom are we up against?"

"As I said: Blood Pact. Eclipse. Blue Suns. Officially, they're all 'private security companies'. In reality? They're somewhere between mercenaries and pirates."

For the first time, Miranda spoke up. With a frown.

"They are highly dangerous. The Blood Pact is mainly composed of Krogan and Vorcha forces. Crude in their methods, but admittedly very effective. And very tough to kill. Eclipse is mostly made up of Asari, all of them biotics, of course."

"If memory serves," I added, looking at her, "Every member of Eclipse has to have killed somebody to earn their uniform. They're all killers."

The raven-haired woman nodded. I think there was a hint of approval somewhere. "In addition, they have access to some of the best equipment that is commercially available."

"And the Blue Suns are mainly Batarians, Turians and Humans.", Jacob carried on, appearing deep in thought. "Out of those three, they're the ones with the best discipline, and they're very tech-savvy. They're using a lot of mechs and other support weapons, like gunships."

"Both of you are right." I nodded. "And Garrus pissed off all three of them enough to - temporarily - forget that they're normally competing with each other. This will be a tough one, Commander. We're fortunate that Garrus and his team already did a good number on them, they're by far not at their peak levels. Still: Forget about confronting them directly, at least all at the same time. We'd need all of our old team to make that happen. No offense, Operatives."

"None taken." Jacob grinned lightly as Miranda scowled. Just a tiny bit.

"Surveillance of Omega communication channels suggests that Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack forces are indeed taking heavy casualties. A recruitment center near the night club Afterlife is offering to sign up everyone willing to fight Archangel. Further investigation might provide a way to infiltrate their forces, bypassing their firing lines."

A feminine voice, a familiar one. I jerked my head to the ceiling, where I suspected the speakers to be.

"Who are you?"

Out of nowhere, accompanied by a flash of nostalgia, the hologram of a blue orb on a pedestal appeared.

"I am the NORMANDY's artificial intelligence. The crew like to refer to me as EDI."

I closed my eyes. It was very hard to keep the bluff up.

"Because of course you are." For the two Cerberus officers, the way I threw my head back and laughed might have looked like I was about to lose it. Calming myself from the (fake) outburst, I gave Miranda an amused look. One that she had not expected.

"You two Cerberus people are new to this 'NORMANDY saves the day' stuff - but yeah, sure, a fucking AI. Piece of advice. Get used to random out-of-nowhere bullshit, ASAP. Given our track record so far, be prepared to lose what little is left of your sanity on this trip. Or just leave it at the airlock."

I gave Shepard a pointed look.

"Something someone forgot to tell me when I signed up as an 'emergency conscript' in '83…"

A tiny smile appeared. Strangely, it looked almost bashful.

"I am not laughing," she stated. "Because it is true."

I got rid of the two Vorcha with the help of a large dumpster, Hitman style. While it would not help with the blood stains on the floor, every second the enemy wasted searching for them was a second in my favor. And on this occasion, I wanted to be hunted anyway.

That being said, for now, it was time to wake up my sleeping prince.

The drug I injected kicked within a few seconds. By the time he groggily woke up, he looked into two lenses and a pistol's barrel, barely an arm's length from his face. Realization hit. And a bit of panic.

"Good Morning," I said, my voice modulated. "Don't do anything stupid, and you won't die."

His hands were restrained. Cable ties are such a wonderful invention. So versatile, easy to carry, easy to use. My opponent noticed this, too.

"What do you want?"

Obviously, with his nose broken, he was a bit difficult to understand. But it didn't take away from the fear in his voice.

"Info." I spoke calmly. "Listen, friend: You're not my enemy. You're just one of the guys they hired - and unlucky enough to be in my way."

There was no reason to get blood-thirsty. Shepard's teaching. Sometimes, the crowbar approach was needed. But I found the times where I didn't need to pry as much, far more enjoyable.

"I have no problem with letting you walk away after this. That being said: You know something I need to know, too. If you answer my questions, you get to live. To sweeten the deal, I'll even pay you the 500 credits you were promised. So?"

I practically saw the gears clicking. Just like many other freelancers, the promise of easy money had driven them to go hunt for Archangel. Unlike most of those others, he'd walk away with his life. And some money. If he played ball.

"Okay… what do you want to know…?"

Ultimately, fear cannot win over greed. Not on Omega.

Behind my mask, I grinned coldly. I was now sure that it would take some time for more enemies to arrive. "Alright. Fair warning before you start - If you lie to me, my friends and I will find you. And when we do… it'll hurt worse than trying to peep on Aria. Got it?"

That even forced a choked laugh out of him.

The Q/A section took about another minute. What I got sounded solid enough to be cautiously trusting. I nodded.

"Appreciated. Thanks." I pulled an unmarked chip out of my chest carrier, putting my pistol in its holster as well. A motion that didn't go unnoticed. "I'm feeling generous. Here's a thousand credits. Sorry 'bout your nose - and the smell."

I saw confusion.

"Still, a piece of advice. I'd suggest doing something else with your life. You're not cut for this job."

With one hand, I slipped the credit chip in the cheap armor's chest pouch. Enough money to buy multiple dozen bottles of Batarian Ale, to get over what came next.

'Cause with the other, I firmly pressed a rug filled with chloroform-like chemicals in his face.

"EDI is right, though. OPFOR is pretty desperate to get as many guns out there as they can. No doubt to try and wear Garrus down, or distract him from whatever else they have planned. Also, to minimize losses for their own guys."

I folded my arms. "As far as I know, the Blue Suns are the ones recruiting. Which is unsurprising. They also are fighting to keep control of the district that's affected by whatever plague's running loose there."

"Sounds good to me." Jacob folded his arms. "The more damage we can inflict here, the easier it will be to get past them to reach Dr. Solus."

Shepard nodded, still deep in thought. "If we sign up, we'll get close enough to reach Garrus' position. Hopefully, he'll recognise Raven and me. Then, all we have to do is to bleed the mercs a bit before making a run for it - or getting our Kodak in for an EVAC."

"Cause it always ends well for us when we assume things are going to be easy."

My quip was met with two disapproving glares. Shepard was smiling, though.

Jacob, now fully immersed in the conversation - and the map that my omnitool was still projecting on the table - frowned. "I wouldn't throw everything in one basket, Commander. Raven, when you recce'd the merc lines, did you find some weakness we could exploit?"

I nodded as well. "I was about to say - yes, I think I'll be better off getting into their flank. My squad fought them in the past, here, on Omega. I wouldn't take the chance of any of them recognizing me."

Reorienting the map, I drew a line towards one of the buildings in the background.

"It's an apartment block, basically. Extremely run-down. The mercs have evicted the few residents - forcibly, of course - or they have fled. That being said, those buildings have no direct connection to the warehouse Garrus is holed up in. As such, only second rate soldiers, like Vorcha or hired muscles are protecting it. I should be able to bypass the defenses and get rid of the few good mercs relatively easily."

I zoomed in on a set of windows.

"That'll allow me to set up a sniper's nest here. From there, I can give you guys fire support from a second angle. It's only about 200, 250 meters." I grinned. "Dunno if I can beat Garrus' kill count, Shepard - but with any luck, it'll be a turkey-shoot for me anyway."

A look to confirm that I was serious. "If they detect you, they'll hunt you. How confident are you in your chances of getting out of there if things are getting too heated?"

"Very." I placed my hands on my hips and gave Shepard a cocky smile. "It would've been tricky normally - but with you guys keeping their attention, plus the fact that they have to conserve their manpower, plus me having plenty of trip-mines… I'm not worried."

It suddenly felt as if there was a different energy in the room. Yet all that Shepard did was stand up straight.

And give me the broadest grin I'd seen from her in over two years.

"Whatever happened to that somewhat naive and utterly unprepared recruit I took on back then - I approve."

I nodded and returned that grin - feeling quite elated. "Let's get to it, then."

Though the urge to stand up and get away from the filth covering the floor was strong, I forced myself to stay prone and keep crawling. Always mindful of the two big windows on the opposite side of the apartment's entrance.

The intel that freelancer had given me had turned out good. He'd get to live and learn. I actually felt kinda sorry now, having put him on top of two Vorcha corpses - but at least I had been kind enough to remove his binds. Waking up from a near-death experience, almost literally bathing in corpses and feeling like he had been buried alive… if that didn't give him a good reason to consider himself lucky to just be alive, nothing would.

'You don't want to sell me death sticks. You want to go home and rethink your life.' I idly wondered if Shepard had saved that kid wanting to test his fifty credits pistol against Archangel.

Not that it was my problem, strictly speaking.

I had about twenty minutes until their superiors would realize what was going on, according to their usual patrols. And even if they did, I had set up enough distractions to keep them off me for an extended period of time. And even if they actually sniffed me out… some good old S-Mine's would give me ample warning.
And even then, I still had an ace up my sleeve.

The fact that I was more worried about Garrus taking a potshot at me than my pursuers catching up to me should speak for itself.

Still staying below line of sight, I ignited my omniblade and - carefully - cut out part of the window. Enough to allow me full coverage of the bridge and the balcony of Garrus's warehouse. The entire time, I was expecting a bullet to hit my arm. No, being an Infiltrator is not exactly an enjoyable line of work. Especially if you know that the guy potentially shooting you is a Friendly - but they don't know that you are.

Smashing the window would have been easier and quicker - but also, had a decent chance of alerting a lot of people with bad intentions to my precise location. While that was kinda the plan, I needed them to be somewhat in disarray first.

I needed ten seconds to make the cuts with my orange hot omniblade silently, but it sounded like a worthy trade off.

Having readied my firing port without any bad guy any wiser, I unsealed and removed my hood. It would have been useless against the type of round that Garrus' rifle fired anyway. For this to work, I needed him to see my face.

Then, slowly and still keeping a low profile, I began to raise my hands ready to stand up and be visible as more than a glowing blade and maybe a hand.

I suddenly realized that I needed a bit more to convince Garrus - whose sleep-deprivation would undoubtedly influence his ability to judge the situation - that I was not a threat.

Quickly lowering my hands and grabbing a piece of drywall that was laying about, I wrote: "FRIENDLY! FRIENDLY! I AM RAVEN!"

I raised it above my head and into view.

When no bullet came my way, I slowly raised my head out of cover - to notice the barrel of a sniper rifle firmly trained on me.

His helmet did not betray any emotions. Would have been difficult to do, at the range we were talking about. I waved. He lowered the barrel, just enough to clearly signal that he no longer had me directly in his sights. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, realizing that this was as good a chance as any - considering that Shepard and her team were still a minute out - I grabbed another piece of… debris, scribbled a bit, then held that one up high, too.

I stood there, exposed, for a full ten seconds.

My eyes fixed on his rifle's scope.

Garrus waved. He broke contact. And I was finally free to set up my position.

Working with fleeting hands, I deployed my Mattock's bipod on the concrete window bar, adjusted my range - and braced myself, just as I saw Garrus setting himself up on his side as well. The message had been clear and concise.

"SHEPARD IS COMING / HANG TIGHT!"

"Commander, this is Raven. Established contact, he knows you're on the way." As I spoke, the VI in my scope finished adjusting my crosshair. "Ready to engage on your mark."

"Copy. Perfect timing." No more than ten seconds later, I saw how the attack signal was given. I saw the first few freelancers vault over, the first one firing his grenade launcher - only to collapse, the second I heard the unmistakable sound of an M-92 Viper firing. Archangel claimed yet another kill.

Itching as I was to get involved, I kept my sights on the barricade and the finger off the trigger, as discussed.

Then, Shepard, Miranda and Jacob appeared.

And my Commander cracked her knuckles. "C'mon. Let's give these guys a surprise of our own. Weapons free."

A/N: My first Author's notes since coming back from hiatus, hm? I just wished I had smarter things to say than "Free cakes for everyone!"

And quite frankly… that last year has been intense, on so many levels, that I don't know if I want to break it all down to you guys.

At the same time, I don't wanna get all mopey. All I'm gonna say is that 3rd degree burns suck, and if you burn yourself, I'd highly recommend seeking out a professional ASAP.

On a brighter note, I have been enjoying reading & writing a lot more, lately. I even have a lot of cool ideas in my head - wonder, oh wonder!

That also being said, I will give you guys fair warning. I will write this story at my own pace, and if it takes me a decade to complete, so be it. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but ultimately, I am writing because I enjoy writing. And if that ever changes - like it did in the past, when I put far too much pressure on myself - I will stop. There's not a high chance right now of my motivation changing though, it has to be said.

Well then, that's all for now, see you soon!

B/N: 5ColouredWalker here. Been away for the last few chapters, but I'm back. There's a lot less typos to work through which means more time to quibble over words and 'this is how it goes in english' instead :P Anyhow, it's fun to be back and I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I am.
And having stepped up as Beta, you get to yell at me about errors instead.

A/N, part 2: Well, less pressure on me, then. Thanks a bunch, mate!