Aftermath [Sar'Neda, Caelus Hadrian, Kato Feun, Zahn Viratas, Skyla Marsh, Ben Walker] Earth, 2186 (

Up in the top floor of a half-destroyed skyscraper, Skyla emerged from her cover where she had taken shelter from the red light. Her head was pounding, but she otherwise felt fine.

She raised the scope of her Widow to her red eyepiece. She surveyed the ruins of London quickly, searching for any signs of the Reapers. There were none.

Turning the eyepiece slightly, she connected with the small cameras built into her little drones she had fired in the surrounding area. There was nothing. No one moving. It was strange.

As far as she was aware from a business perspective, she had fulfilled her part of the contract she had with the Alliance. Go to Earth, shoot Reapers, get paid. But she figured she would stick around a little longer. It was a chance to rebuild, after all. It would be the galaxy her daughter would grow up in, and she was sure she wasnt going to let it be a bad one.

She tried to contact the Alliance through her comms, but she was getting nothing but static. Still, she was only a short distance away from the triage station, and it made sense to go there.

Skyla gripped a long length of rope dangling down the side of the building. She clipped herself on to it and abseiled down the skyscraper. Her jet boosters wouldnt be the smartest idea at such a great height. She immediately missed the elevated, tactical position the building offered, but she was finished. Done.

That didnt stop her from keeping her Widow in her hands, though. When she reached ground level, she did a quick sweep of the area and checked for enemies. There were none.

She checked the drone cameras again. Still nothing. It was like the whole Earth had frozen.

Skyla used her boosters to jump high enough on to the roof of what was once a store, and did yet another sweep of the area in front of her. You could never be too careful, especially when the Reapers were concerned. Put a bullet in one cannibal and another would eat it. Shoot a ravager and you would get attacked by swarmers. There was always something waiting where the Reapers were concerned. Something up their sleeve.

The triage station wasnt very far, but she guessed that survivors would be meeting there. Many would need patching up. It would be a good place to make contact with the Alliance, and then her daughter. She was done playing hero. Yes, she had saved an Alliance soldier from his fate when she shot a Marauder in the head from a thousand feet away. And yes, that had been a nice feeling. But she was a hitman, not a soldier. It was time to get back to reality.

[OOC: If ive done anything wrong just let me know not really sure what Im talking about with this ]

---

Sar barely made it a block before the memories of her old brothers in arms clawed their way to the fore of her thinking.

Major Reegar, killed a hero on Palaven. Corporal Hoodar, KIA on Haestrom. Private Iri, the gung-ho kid who got himself killed on Freedom's Progress. Sergeant Adin, the gunner who died with his machine gun empty and shields burnt in Haestrom sun. Sergeant Myr'Vael, the combat engineer and her mentor.

Thinking about Myr'Vael was especially hard. His daughter was on a pilgrimage at the time, and it was Sar who had to talk to the young girl. Sar, who dodged a bullet and hasn't been to Haestrom. It didn't end well, as Myr filled the role of her other father. As she rounded the corner, still watching out for Marauders and Cannibals in the absolutely quiet city, another memory of Sergeant Vael crossed her mind. Before she was side tracked to Freedom's Progress with her fireteam, he gave her a program to measure electromagnetic pulses. "The solar flares are EMPs. This will help us stay out of trouble," he said. Now his thoughtfulness over a year ago might push the chance in her favor a little bit.

She found nearest hard cover behind a fallen pillar and took a knee, firing up her Omni-tool. She still had the program. In fact, Sar made it a point to never erase anything she was given while in service on account of it becoming useful later. Programs don't weigh anything, after all. The hologram on her wrist began working.

The results were similar to what she expected. EMP rippled in intervals only few seconds long. That was what was disrupting her comms.
"Bosh'tet..."

It could take hours for the EMP ripples to clear. On the other hand, this explained the complete lack of Reaper forces on her way to the triage station: Operation Crucible seemed to be a success. According to the need-to-know briefing she received on the shuttle, there was a plan. The reason all of Hammer pushed in one direction.

Crucible must have fired. The only weapon capable of destroying the Reapers and winning the war. The pulses were nothing but a side effect of what was hopefully the one final roar of defiance that defeated the synthetic monsters.

Sar raised to her feet again, still advancing with rifle drawn and covering likely spots where a shooter could hide. One could never be too sure. She reached a small square, the other side of which meant only two blocks left to her current goal: The triage station. She let the Lancer drop on the sling, leaving it limp and bumping on her stomach as she walked, simultaneously looking at her Omni-tool again and drawing the Recon drone from her belt. Perhaps it would work, even in this condition.

She positioned the drone at her feet and pressed the engine toggle on her 'Tool. The drone itself was inaudible, but began to shake ever so slightly, meaning it was still operational - perhaps at least something would go her way. Just as she did it every time: Gain altitude, turn on thermal and see if anyone is nearby and improperly prepared. Sometimes, it was surprising how many would forego full thermal shielding and armor in favor of not breathing through a helmet - a luxury Sar could not afford. The reason she favored thermal so much during the Reaper war, however, was because the giant squids didn't bother decreasing their ground troops' signatures, a fact that saved her multiple times on Menae.

With no thermal signatures on the square or surrounding buildings, she switched to scanning with sonar and finally with the old VIS mode, which was a simple camera.

The whole square was clear. She sent the drone to the far side of it for retrieval, shut her Omni-tool and jogged across. The remaining two blocks were no different from the rest of her trip, and after a shortcut through a collapsed building, she walked in the store-turned-triage through the front door, hoping to see Ghost, safe and sound...

---

Xesthan - you're up mate

(OOC: Hey, Skyla's drones work... *shrug*)

Skyla noticed a building in the distance which had almost been severed in half by a Reaper. She could see people moving inside it, and aimed down her scope. It was just some Alliance soldiers, no reason to worry.

She was looking forward to taking off her helmet and embracing her daughter again for the first time in months. She felt uncomfortable being apart from her for such a long time. She also didnt like spending time around soldiers. Despite the fact their occupations were strikingly similar, considering both soldiers and assassins would get paid for killing people, many soldiers in the Alliance looked down on her. It could have been because of her Cerberus armor, her chosen job or the fact that she refused to remove her helmet and deactivate her voice synthesizer even when in a public place. It must have been obvious that she didnt trust them, and have no intentions of letting them know who she was, or becoming one of them. It was also probably why the Alliance had sent her alone instead of part of a squad. No one trusted her, and she trusted no one.

Skyla began to notice people heading towards the triage station just as she was. It was nice to see life in the ruins, and know that she wasnt the last person alive in the whole of London.

She checked her comms again, but there was still nothing but static. It would probably come back eventually, but she didnt want to waste time.

She boosted down from the roof, and approached the entrance to the triage station.

Unsurprisingly, she was stopped by an Alliance soldier at the gate. She had seen a few people enter ahead of her without any trouble, but she was dressed as a Nemesis after all.

She showed him the clearance she had been given by one of the Alliance brass, and was eventually allowed to pass. She hadnt uttered a word to him, despite the gun being aimed in her direction. She had noticed that he double checked the documents to make sure they were authentic, but she could hardly hold it against him when he was doing his job. It was only a minor inconvenience after all.


[OOC: sorry for the wait, today has been super busy for me so far

Also if I have to edit this because of the timing of things happening I can

Anndddd tagging @tzeenchianapostrophe ]

---

Sar holstered the Lancer assault rifle on her back as she walked in.

The triage was nothing special. Countless cots and tables, now improvised as beds for the wounded.
She has seen this one before. On Menae. That blasted moon over Palaven. Many of them had no real future: few flesh wounds when fighting giant monsters from dark space.

Menae. Her first close encounter with a Brute, and thankfully the last. Even a month later, she couldn't understand how she killed the beast with nothing but omni-tool for weapons, but she was glad she learned how to incinerate foes from her mentor.

Not that the kill helped her squad any. There were simply too many, and she was glad the Brute's sheer strength and the backblast of her own rodeo incinerate didn't kill her. Nobody asked to be a hero, and nobody wanted to die in vain. This way, she could at least avenge both the dozen heroes in her squad, and the remainder of the hundred men and women who had partaken in Reegar's Last Stand, as the media called it.

Sar tore herself from her mind as she passed a Turian in yellow armor. She gave him a single look before uttering "Staff Sarn't" with a short salute.
She didn't need to, as she still outranked the man, but all the militaries in the galaxy used the greeting as a sign of respect. And whatever fighting hole he just crawled out of, he had to be one tough bosh'tet.

There was only one fellow survivor she was after, however. She turned to the doctor behind the counter.
"Excuse me. Sergeant First Class Neda, Migrant Fleet Marines. I'm looking for a survivor, Quarian like me. Private Rael'Gazu vas Neema. Could've referred to himself as Ghost, had a skull on his faceplate," she asked, her voice tired more than she herself expected.
"Sorry ma'am. He was here, but already left for a nearby base."
"Bosh'tet..." she sighed. "Thank you. I know the one. Can you point me to any working comms, preferably a Queck?"
"Queck, ma'am?" she doctor inquired, visibly clueless about what Sar just asked her.
"QEC. Quantum Entanglement Communicator."
"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what that is. Goodbye."

Sar sighed. The doctor didn't seem interested in talking. With no more words, she pulled out the two spare medi-gel packets in the pack at the small of her back and put them on the counter.
The Turian Staff Sergeant she passed on the way in might know more. She turned around to see where he went, but instead she saw...

Training took over. She no longer felt tired as her hand acted on muscle memory, drawing and presenting the Phalanx pistol with lethal precision.
"HANDS! HANDS! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS! DROP YOUR WEAPON!" she yelled across the store as she aimed squarely at the black figure armed with a sniper rifle.

Cerberus Nemesis. Assassin. Sniper. Barely organic, and certainly no longer human behind that faceplate.

And now facing Sar and the Turian Staff Sergeant, who was surprisingly far more calm about the situation than he should have been.

---

Xesthan

(OOC: Well, sh...tuffz just got real.)

"Hands! Hands! Show me your hands! Drop your weapon!"

Before Skyla had even seen her attacker, she already identified her. She was a Quarian, by her accent.

She slowly turned to face her. The Quarian was holding an M-5 Phalanx, a weapon which she also used. It would make the calculations easier. Her Widow had one shot, and at such a short distance her weapon had the potential to kill the Quarian outright, or at least put a sizable breach in her suit. The M-5 Phalanx would take at least two shots to kill her, with three being the most likely scenario. There was a high probability that she would escape unscathed, but it was a risky shot nevertheless. The pistol was already raised in her direction, whereas her sniper was only by her side, increasing the risk of injury considerably.

"Contact!" she heard the Alliance soldier from the entrance shout. She spun quickly, firing a drone at the feet of the Quarian and detonating the flashbang as she turned. She raised the scope of her sniper to her eyepiece. There looked to be a Cerberus Phantom engaging a Turian just outside. A Phantom who almost certainly had orders to kill her, as she ranked fairly high on Cerberus' list of targets, even after so many years.

She fired her weapon, the shot striking the Phantom in the center of her forehead and practically shattering her faceplate. She cloaked as soon as she saw the Phantom drop, moving to cover. She fired a drone at the wall, swapping to her sidearm as she took cover behind it, ready in case the Quarian decided to try and pursue her, her eyepiece adjusted to the view of the drone, giving her a view of her attacker even though she wouldnt be able to see her.

---

A moment of silence ensued. The Nemesis in front of her seemed to be assessing the situation and odds of victory.

As soon as the presumed Cerberus operative began to kneel in surrender, however, the bosh'tet threw something at Sar's feet.

In an instinct, Sar tried to cover her visor: If it was a grenade, it stood no chance getting through her shields. If it was a Flashbang...

...it was a Flashbang. Much cruder than her own Arc-bangers, but it usually got the job done. With the positioning, right under her feet, Sar's cheekpiece caught some of the flash, while the visor's innate ability to negate Flashbangs did the rest. The loud bang, so fittingly giving the grenade the second half of it's name, was irrelevant: her helmet let none of it through, resulting in a brief sensation of listening to vacuum before the sound receptors allowed sound to flow again.

Sar hit her cloak reflexively, wishing to remain nigh-invisible for the time being.
The Nemesis turned around on her knee and fired at something outside the triage station before cloaking. Two could play this game, eh, she thought, stepping away from her previous position and remaining motionless, her eyes scanning the room for any sort of flickering outlines that could signify the presence of a cloaked person.

Giving a thought to the shot from the Nemesis' Widow, she shot a look at the impact area: A Turian, Omni-Blade drawn, kneeling over what looked like a Phantom. Headless Phantom. A good shot.

The Staff Sergeant, now good two meters away, was already scanning the room, Phaeston at the ready. Finally, a good reaction.
Something wasn't right, though. No dim outline of a tactical cloak, trying to peek out of cover to see where the enemy was. Did the Nemesis already evade, or was there some sort of remote observation going on? The questions raced through Sar's mind. She switched her Phalanx to the weak hand, reaching for the Lancer with her strong.

A glance at the timer. Plenty of cloak left. Holstering a pistol with her weak hand wasn't an easy business, but she managed. It was time to stop looking, and start hunting.

Aware that the cloaks were superior at camouflaging stationary - and slowly moving - objects and personnel, she made half-steps towards the first logical bit of cover, climbing on top.

Bingo: She could see a faint glimmer. Sar remembered the two old sayings: If you can see them, they can see you. If the enemy is in range, so are we.
There was no long, smooth object, however. The Nemesis went for a sidearm, and now, with the fully automatic assault rifle, Sar had the decisive advantage.

In retrospect, however, something was off. The Phantom could have been a miss. But if this was a barely-human Cerberus operative, why would the Alliance soldier be still alive?

Sar put her finger on the trigger, but did not press it. Instead, she shouted towards the outline: "Explain yourself!"

---

(OOC: Yeah, sorry. Took me a while. Already said why. Decided now's a good time to post, since I'm calm. If I were to wait until immediate problems were solved, I might end up delaying even more.)

Xesthan

Zahn Viratas

Turian

Male

Age: 23

Mercenary, Traveler, and Writer

bsn.boards.net/thread/3113/characters-thread


Zahn barely managed to dodge the Phantom's slash.
"I expected more from someone who fought Kai Leng and lived!" she yelled. Why does she yell so much?
"Okay," Zahn said. He sighed. "First of all, I don't know what they tell you, but I only got close to the Illusive Man's identity on accident. Second, I don't even think I'm that good. Now that we have that out of the way, are we down for that date tonight?"

Zahn managed to distract her long enough to get shot in the head. He made sure to note to himself to thank whoever killed her. Zahn could have pulled out his pistol in time, but that's no longer necessary. He wasn't acting seriously with her for the most part. Zahn made a habit of flirting with female foes on a daily basis, including a Krogan, but he almost got himself killed doing that.

He knelled and started inspecting her belongings. There was nothing aside from a few weapons and her data pad, which had the same messages since he last looked at it.

Zahn went up to the Turian who was scanning the room.
@tzeenchianapostrophe

---

"Explain yourself."

Sar had to do a double take. Did the Nemesis really just repeat her words back at her? What was the point here? Why friendly fire?
And how did the Nemesis observe the room if she never took a look? The easiest answer was a drone, similar to one now on Sar's utility belt. If there was one, Ancestors only knew what it could do.

Sar stayed silent. She wasn't the one who just strolled in an Alliance triage station and shot someone wearing the same uniform out the door.
"I do not know you," the Nemesis continued. It's grasp of the obvious was rather good. Sar kept the Lancer trained on the Nemesis' head. One good burst was all it would take...

"Lower your weapon, human. There's no way you'll make it out of here alive otherwise." That was the Turian Sergeant she greeted not five minutes ago. He too was aiming his standart-issue Phaeston, obviously not intending to stand down that fast. With that, Sar agreed wholeheartedly. It's been three years since Cerberus indiscriminately attacked the Migrant Fleet, and her father was lucky to get away unharmed. This Nemesis wasn't walking out of here, not without hands tied behind her back.

Footsteps tore her from the half-minded train of thought: Two more people were approaching. Another Turian and a Drell, neither wearing armor. Instead, the Turian wore what seemed to be a torn up travel cloak, and the Drell had one of the well-fit leather jackets characteristic of his species. They were, however, both armed and had shield harnesses visible, making it obvious they were not civilians themselves.

"Greetings. The name is Kato. I'd suggest that everyone take a deep breath and calm down."
Really? What was his business. Was he on Cerberus' payroll? They were not very well known for hiring non-humans.

"So before we all try to finish off what the Reapers started and kill each other, perhaps we can have a nice conversation that does not include drawn weapons."
No. He was unlikely to work for Cerberus. Speaking of their operatives, the Nemesis was as quiet as they usually were. It could have been a trick. One way or another, he probably had no idea who they had on their hands. Usually, Sar would listen to him. This is irregular enough, and she already let her foe live this long at gunpoint. But not today. There was a lot of fighting. It did not even occur to her than ten minutes ago, she had enough of war. There was a person in an enemy uniform, and that's all that mattered to Sar. No morals, no logic. Just the uniform.

Sar was thankful for not having to respond to the newcomers, as the Sergeant did it for her. Less work. She could concentrate on aiming, and thinking about that remote observation device somewhere in the area.

"That's a good idea, drell, except that you'll need to explain yourself better first. Who are you? Mercenary? Soldier? And for that matter, who's the fellow with the Omni-blade?" A gesture from the Staff Sergeant she caught in her peripheral vision. "Are you with him?"

Good questions. These two were not Alliance. They weren't Hierarchy either, for that matter. And there was no Drell unit, according to the briefing.

Another voice from the door. Human. His words, Sar didn't even register properly. Something about documents being in order. And about a Phantoms hand the Drell was holding, a detail she missed when shooting a glance in that direction. She zoned out, uncertain about how long passed when the Alliance Marine walked up to her and gently lowered her Lancer away from the Cerberus agent...

---

OOC: Here's the important part. According to Wiki, people suffering PTSD often think and feel differently than normal. This is exactly what's written there, and this is how I interpreted it for the sake of the story. Regardless of this, I don't think she's a psychological casualty just yet, but, you know. She just survived Reegar's Last Stand, an operation that everyone thinks had no survivors. She lost pretty much everyone in her unit, and Ghost is, far as she knows, MIA. Which will lead us to an interesting mechanic eventually, because I have yet to decide if callsign Guardian Six-2, Private Rael'Gazu, Ghost, will remain elusive or join the merry band of misfits as an NPC, similar to Admiral Viratas.

Xesthan

Skyla did not lower her weapon, keeping it firmly raised. She did not care who they were, she would not leave herself open against multiple enemies. The news of a second Cerberus agent was troubling, especially if they were monitoring Alliance communications. Under the terms of her contract, she was authorized and obliged to hunt any direct threat to the Alliance or galactic life in its entirety during her time on Earth, and she had not left. Ergo, it appeared she had a target.

"I do not work for Cerberus," she said, "Neither I am not going to be watched. If I see someone following me or restricting my movements they will die. I have authorization to be here. If there is a Cerberus agent nearby I am obligated to hunt them. But get in my way, and it will not end well for you. I do not care who you are, or what your names are. It makes no difference to me."


[OOC: @tzeenchianapostrophe ]

(OOC: Music!: and this is the time of armor that Ben is wearing: redliner91.deviantart.com/art/Mass-Effect-3-N7-Destroyer-V2-2013-347939647  Ben is without a helmet.)

Ben slowly opened his eyes, grimacing as he got up. While doing so Ben scanned the area around him, the Reapers he and his team were fighting a few hours ago were vanquished by a blinding red light. Spitting out blood from his mouth and grabbing his fallen M76- Renevant Ben tried to remember the events that transpired.

What he could recall was that he was being thrown around like a ragdoll by a Banshee with a bunch of husks and Reaper soldiers pinning them down. As his group: A Krogan named Okar, a Drell adept named Set and his fellow N-7 soldier and friend: Steven Lamar. Ben hated the Alliance for its moral hypocrisy combined with his natural tendency to rebel. However as soon as the Reapers arrived and attacked Earth, Ben was contacted by Steven who offered him to go back to the N7 again. Ben was a bit hesitant at first, but hearing news for Al Jalani about the Reaper attacks on Earth and the Alliance's efforts to repel against the attackers Ben accepted.

He still disliked the Alliance, but they were the only force who were holding their own against the Reapers on Earth and Ben needed to do something to defend not only his species but the world. As Ben searched around, gripping his rifle he began to limp through the rubble rubbing the gash on the back of his neck. During his tenure back as an N7 soldier Ben traveled from planet to planet, teaming up with every species from humans, Elcor, Volus, Krogan, Quarian, Batarian, Turain, Vorchas and Salarians. He made friends with just about everyone he fought with which surprised Ben they were united for purpose: Survive. Ben fought back Reapers, Cerberus, Geth and the Collectors. Speaking of the Collectors, Ben remembered fighting alongside in what the Alliance dubbed "Awakened" those Collectors have always unnerved Ben.

Every battle he participated was long and arduous and Ben had hard time remembering when was the last time he slept. He lost a lot of friends he made over the war he remembered trying to contact all of his friends especially Kallia but received no responses. The uncertainty combined with the losses made Ben doubt that they could even win this war but as long as he's alive, he'll fight tooth and nail to defend against the Reapers. As soon he was done with a battle then he went into a ship to prepare for another battle. It was absolute chaos as Ben witnessed the destruction of worlds and deaths of countless civilians. "I wondered how Kalia would've reacted to all this?" Ben wondered still searching for the remains of his team. He told himself when this was all over, he would quit the N7, go back to being a mercenary where he would reconnect with Kalia again...... If she was alive.

Shrugging off those thoughts, Ben reached to Omni-Tool. "Sgt Lamar come in." Ben said.

No response.

Shaking his head Ben kept moving through the ruins of London. Even though the battle was won the galaxy has its work cut out in rebuilding the civilizations that were lost to the Reapers. A few hours later, Ben heard noise coming from a building wasting little time ran near the entrance where there was a conversation taking place: "If you really are authorized to be here, human, then you have no reason to be uncooperative. Your former employers have infiltrated the ranks of the Alliance. It is your duty to assist us in eliminating this threat. Stand down."

A Turian voice...... survivors!

Cautiously Ben entered the building, "Don't be alarmed!" Ben said "I'm a friendly, Sgt Benjamin Walker N7 Soldier of the Alliance. Glad to see some friendly faces!"

(OOC: Xesthan )

Skyla still refused to stand down, but she noted the presence of another human. She stood silent for a moment as she contemplated her response. One thing was for certain, she had no reason to trust any of them, and had no intentions of doing so, so kept her pistol raised.

"Being the enemy of my enemy does not make you a friend. It makes you a liability," she said, "You have proven yourselves to be reckless and irresponsible. Were it not for my quick reflexes and good judgement, two of you would be dead, one at my hand. If I was a Cerberus operative armed with an explosive, the rest of you would be too, for approaching a potential threat with little or no caution. I have seen nothing to suggest you would be any benefit to me, or that any of you are capable of leading. I have no intentions of following orders. There is a target, and the target will be dropped with a single shot. Nothing more. Do not get in my way, and do not slow me down."

She completely ignored the question of her name. She had no intentions of giving it to anyone. She hoped her statements would make clear her feelings on the matter. It could not get any clearer. She could have killed them all far too easily if she wished to, and she would do just that if they prevented her from assassinating the Cerberus agent. They meant nothing to her.


[OOC: @tzeenchianapostrophe]