@maltdrawings MERRY ASSORTED HOLIDAYS!!! :D I was your gifter this year for @masseffectholidaycheer. Harby did wonders this year for sure. I had such a joy looking at all the art you have of Dan and Garrus. Their passion is really heartwarming, and there’s always something very delicate when drawing original characters. We insert a lot of ourselves into our writing, and that of itself is so comforting… I adore the connection your Shepard shares with Garrus, and I hope that with the future as things ease up sometime soon, these two will continue dancing wherever they may be!
Because after all, there is no Shepard without Vakarian, :)
Hey @maltdrawings, I’m late as all hell, but I rewrote your gift -- I lost the first copy in a tragic laptop incident. The original was a bit longer, but I really wanted to give you a gift instead of dropping out! I’ve never written mshakarian before, but I hope I did alright!!
Additional note: Forgive the (awful) lateness, this fic got saved as a draft last Sunday instead of being posted, and I didn’t notice until I got back online to fill the queue.
All things considered, the mission could be going worse.
But not by much.
A bullet 'ping's near the top of his head, burying itself in the storage container behind them. The glow of Mordin's omni-tool blinks as he types, and Shepard glances at it before looking back over his shoulder.
Geth, or at least heretic geth. There's a trooper moving closer, his head lighting up a path in their direction. Shepard ducks back down. "Please tell me that's coming along."
"It's coming along. Quite quickly, actually." Mordin pauses, "Well, I'm assuming so. Just a medical doctor, not an expert on scrambling devices."
Nearly out of heat sinks, disconnected from the Normandy, with geth perforating the crates in front of them. Wonderful. Shepard pulls himself back onto his knees to take aim towards the walkway of the warehouse, looking for the guiding flash of their heads.
There's a barrel next to a group of them, and Shepard's visor flashes a little warning as he takes aim. Mordin speaks up behind him.
"Wouldn't suggest shooting that. Currently reading dangerous levels of ammonium chlorate -- explosive, mind you."
He hovers his scope over the barrel's middle. "Just what I wanted to hear."
"Highly explosive, Shepard. Not fully out of blast range --" Mordin interrupts, but Shepard has already made up his mind.
"Explosion oncoming. Get down!"
He squeezes the trigger.
It always feels slow, the lull before everything gets blown to hell, and Shepard uses that moment to duck down. The sound comes first, the momentary roar nearly deafening him through his helmet. It seems to shake everything, from the floor below him to his brain stem, and wind whistles past the crates in a scream.
The heat from the blow is just beginning to subside when his helmet receiver crackles. Shepard lifts his hand to answer it, feeling a wave of leftover warmth brush past his hand. "Y-ello."
"The color?" Garrus seems to pause, and Shepard has a fleeting mental image of him shaking his head. "What did you do? One minute I'm aiming at a geth trooper, and the next --"
"And then shit is exploding," Shepard finishes for him. "I take full credit."
Shepard looks back over the crates, surveying the damage. There's a single, crippled trooper still alive -- active? conscious? crawling with the intent to kill? -- and Shepard watches as a sniper shot puts it down. He touches the side of his helmet. "Good aim. How are things where you are?"
There's a pause, and Garrus sounds nonchalant. "Fine, aside from the ringing."
"Have to look at that when we get back," Mordin interjects again. "Aural canal still unstable after facial reconstruction."
"Well, hopefully we'll be getting back pretty damn soon," Shepard replies to both of them. "How is the unscrambling coming?"
Mordin's three-fingered hand swipes over his omni-tool. "Better. Normandy's AI is likely working on the other end to speed the process."
EDI, becoming more of an asset every day. He'd had some doubts about the ship interface, but she was growing on him. Shepard looks over the crate to watch the warehouse railings above them. The next wave was probably on its way to check out the noise, and it was only a matter of time until they arrived on scene.
"Uh," Garrus says over the connection. "Don't move. Geth above you."
Ah, fuck. Speak of the devil. He didn't think they would enter in the doors above them. Well, at least they had Garrus on the eastern wall, and not stuck under this staircase with them.
There's a shot over the comm line, and one of the geth topples over. Its gun goes falling over the railing, landing in a scuffed-up heap in front of the crates. Shepard peers over to look at it before ducking back down.
"Nice shot, Vakarian."
Garrus scoffs. "You don't have to tell me that every time, Shepard."
Shepard shrugs his shoulders, feeling his helmet knock with the pauldron of his armor. Mordin knocks a three-fingered fist against the crate behind him. "Connected. I suggest you try contacting the Normandy now, Shepard."
Nodding, Shepard lifts his hand to his ear and tries to find a familiar voice amid all the static. It flickers for a moment before the sounds break into something clearer. "Shepard to the Normandy, am I reading?"
"-- I'm trying, hold on -- oh! There you are," Joker says, sounding relieved. "We were spinning our wheels over here trying to break through the interference."
"No time for small talk," Shepard says shortly. "We're a little backed in."
"Got you covered." Joker goes silent, and Shepard can imagine him there, pulling the strings from his pilot's chair. After a moment he speaks up, "Lawson, Tali, and Legion are on their way."
Shepard pops a heat sink from his rifle, smacking another one into place. Twenty-six shots left. But you know, one shot was enough to take out six geth a moment ago, so maybe these twenty-six could go a long way. He stands up. "Great. I'll clear the way."
Joker stutters. "What? With all due respect, Commander, plant your ass and w--"
"No chance," Shepard replies. "See you on the flip side."
He flicks off his comm-unit and stands up, leaning over the crates to look up. The geth are still flooding in, blocking the path towards the warehouse entrance. "Ready for a rendezvous, Garrus?"
There's a dual-toned hum over the connection. "Depends, do you plan on buying me dinner after?"
"There's a box of dextro chocolates with your name on it when we get back onto the Normandy, promise," Shepard replies. He motions for Mordin to find new cover before venturing out first, just to draw the fire. The geth spot him the moment he jogs into view, and several bullets pepper his shields as he slips behind another storage container.
"Close enough," Garrus says. There's the distinct shatter-crack of a headshot, and another geth goes tumbling over the stair railing. "Clearing a path for backup?"
Shepard bobs his head in a nod as he keeps moving, clearing his throat when he realizes Garrus can't see him. "Yep. Meet me near the base of the stairs? It's gonna be a bitch of an uphill climb."
He sees Garrus stand and head for the stairs. "On my way."
They both jump from cover to cover, Shepard stopping to fire off a few rounds towards the geth crowding the staircase. They're starting to make their way down, exactly what he wanted.
This was kind of like herding sheep, only the sheep were armed with deadly weapons and working on a constantly-calculating hivemind.
He holes up behind a few more storage boxes, feeling deja-vu as he plants his back against the crate. At least this time he was a little closer to the entrance. Garrus joins him after a moment, slipping behind the crate. Shepard knocks shoulders with him. "Welcome to the shitshow."
Garrus flares his mandibles in a grin, planting his rifle between his knees to pop the heat sink. "This is a little more than a shitshow at this point."
A bullet whizzes past the crates to bury itself in the wall, and Shepard bares his teeth in a cringe. "Yeah, more like a clusterfuck."
"My translator tripped over that one, but I'm inclined to agree."
Shepard snorts and glances back around cover. "I'll lead them off the stairs. Watch my six?"
Garrus shoulders his rifle. "That's my job. I'll stay close."
Shepard nods, and readies himself to run. He jumps cover a few more times, drawing fire away from Garrus, and saves his shots. Better to wait until his odds are better. The geth follow like dogs, and Shepard tries to lead them back towards the floor of the warehouse. It would be hard for backup to make their way inside if the stairs were crowded with heretic geth.
There's more targets than he anticipated, and before long Shepard is surrounded. He makes a few shots (less than twenty rounds, now) and downs two troopers as he slips back behind cover. His shields are looking pretty tattered, and he glances back towards the stairs as he waits for them to recharge.
"Backup, how are those doors coming?"
Lawson's voice replies, and he can hear Tali talking behind her. "Almost there, but they've got the place pretty locked down."
Like this was planned from the start. Shepard scowls a little behind his faceplate. He really walked into this under the assumption that they wouldn't get separated from the Normandy and slaughtered in the middle of a warehouse. Underestimating his enemy -- rookie mistake.
Shepard vents his frustrations on a heat sink, hitting the eject a little too roughly. The sink hisses as it bounces away, and he pulls out another to replace it. Peering around the edge of his cover only prompts more bullets in his direction, and he hears the geths' heavy footfalls as they approach.
Time to draw them back out.
He takes fire as he finds new cover, his shields whirring in protest with every new shot taken in his direction. "It's looking pretty bad out here!" Shepard shouts, ducking back behind another storage crate.
Miranda responds in kind, her voice calm despite the volume. "Working on it, Shepard!"
He jumps up to take a shot at the trooper flagging him, and fires off two rounds before striking it in the head. There's a shock of red armour on the staircase, and Shepard curses. "Rocket trooper, watch yourselves."
Mordin's voice crackles over the receiver. "He seems to have locked on. Northern wall, behind the armor storage."
"Coming your way," Shepard says, and begins the trek towards the back of the warehouse.
"Following," comes Garrus's addition, and before long they've drawn the rocket trooper's fire away from Mordin.
Ducking behind a crate, Shepard glances up at the trooper. It’s making its way towards them, slowly but surely, and he watches it stop to take aim. Its barrel is directed towards Mordin's location, and Shepard jumps up in the same moment. Perhaps he could beat it -- shoot out the light in its face before it could take the shot. The machine was fast, but surely he could be faster.
He fires, and the trooper stumbles back, the end of its gun dropping to scrape the floor. Just short, he barely clipped its face. Shepard takes aim again, ignoring the warning over his comm. The trooper does the same, and Shepard grits his teeth as his trigger finger itches.
Garrus's bulk hits him before he can fire, knocking him away. They tumble towards the ground together, and Shepard gasps as Garrus's elbow punches the air from his lungs. He's is suddenly thankful for his helmet as his head bounces against the concrete, and he struggles to sit up. Garrus scrambles up off of him, making a grab for his hand, and Shepard allows himself to be tugged up from the floor.
"You ruined my shot," Shepard says, a little breathless. "You really gotta warn me before you do that."
The propane-blue of Garrus's gaze slides onto his, and his mandibles flare. "And you should warn me before you go off being reckless."
They're interrupted by a warp that pulls the rocket trooper backwards, and they turn in unison to see a biotic flare. Miranda is in the distance, her hand extended towards the trooper, and Shepard can see Legion and Tali behind her. Shepard leans to pick up his gun and starts off in their direction, motioning for Mordin and Garrus to follow.
Tali tosses him a heat sink as he approaches, and Shepard catches it with a deft hand. "Glad to see some fresh faces."
"Instead of flashlight heads?" Tali asks, and Shepard snorts.
"Definitely better than flashlight heads."
With six people, the rest of the heretic geth are short work. Miranda leads the backup team work to clear out the warehouse, leaving Shepard and Garrus to fall back to flush out the remainders. By the time they return to the Normandy, Shepard has seen enough of the warehouse to last him a lifetime. (It was, give or take, two or three hours, but that was long enough.)
During the Normandy's boarding scan, Shepard bumps shoulders with him. "I really do owe you dextro chocolates now, don't I?"
"Well, I certainly won't turn down a box of Palaven's finest."
Shepard snorts. "If you're willing to settle for a bottle of wine, I have that in my room."
The scan finishes, and Garrus makes a humored noise in the back of his throat as they make their way towards the elevator. "You know, I could live with that."
