The Tears That Dry Scorched Earth 1/9
anonymous
September 18 2013, 16:57:35 UTC
Cannon fire and artillery barrage singed the air with flack, like whipping strobes of light, they chased each other through the darkness and scoured the air as they flew toward targets in the darkness.
London. Scorched Earth.
Buildings shattered in a cascading tumble of debris that provided shelter for the living and cairns for the dead. Mountains of corpses, friend and foe alike, littered the streets and filled the corners, looking like the random erosions of a storm-swept river as it pulled and surged through humanity's greatest cities. Another building began to buckle under insane pressure and insatiable destruction that surged up around it and with a defeated groan, it fell, crushing a Mako and the fresh troops within, forever ending their honour and courage. Like a broken piece of pottery, the building continued its achingly slow descent, splaying out in shredding debris and shrapnel that pinned down the beleaguered heroes of Earth and the tired fallen alike.
John Shepard roared as another Mako was crushed under an avalanche of stone and sharp metal, another round of bodies to cake the road and another batch of troops lost to the hungry grind of the Reaper's War.
"Dammit," Garrus shouted out over the sounds of gunfire and screeches, "What's that, the fourth one?"
"Sixth actually," Shepard corrected as he took up position over a newly toppled stone cover that had seemed to fall perfectly for him, providing a view-arc of the fore guard so that he could snipe off prominent targets. His Black Widow felt hot and heavy in his hands as he clambered tiredly toward the makeshift barrier.
"Dammit," Garrus whispered as he sped another round through the night sky, taking out a duo of Husks that were attempting to sneak quietly past their defences.
Shepard quickly popped back up, swept the battlefield with his scope and ducked back under cover before any more hostiles could draw a bead on him.
Things had been going so well.
They had just finished the briefing at the Forward Command Post, Anderson detailing their slapdash plan to clear the way to the Conduit that would end the war. Nodding with their assignments, and with Shepard last motivational harangue fresh in their minds, they had moved off to ready themselves for their assignments and positions. He had taken Garrus and Kaidan along, his friend and his lover, and though instinct screamed at him and told him he was condemning them to death, they were adamant, Garrus claiming he would just trail behind Shepard even if he gave a direct order and Kaidan had looked stone faced, absolutely brutal, and let the silence stretch to insane levels before Shepard had cleared his throat and nodded his assent.
The rest of his team, his friends and the closest thing he would ever consider a family, had been spreading out in arcs as his aptly named 'Shadow Team' fought their way, inching closer and closer to the target that were the Thannix Missiles, the only thing that could conceivably damage the Reaper Destroyer that barred their path to their final goal. With their usual brutal efficiency and teamwork, they had flown through the shattered streets of London like ghosts, sticking to cover, watching each other's backs and sniping, shooting and killing anything that dared to cross their path. It was a glorious feeling, one of omnipotence and power and Shepard had felt a brief grin of triumph spread across his face as he scaled the last of the heavy rubble fall and spied the gleaming missiles, already prepped and ready.
That was the last smile that he had given since, and everything had seemed to go as quickly downhill as their descent into that cross-shaped bowl of death.
London. Scorched Earth.
Buildings shattered in a cascading tumble of debris that provided shelter for the living and cairns for the dead. Mountains of corpses, friend and foe alike, littered the streets and filled the corners, looking like the random erosions of a storm-swept river as it pulled and surged through humanity's greatest cities. Another building began to buckle under insane pressure and insatiable destruction that surged up around it and with a defeated groan, it fell, crushing a Mako and the fresh troops within, forever ending their honour and courage. Like a broken piece of pottery, the building continued its achingly slow descent, splaying out in shredding debris and shrapnel that pinned down the beleaguered heroes of Earth and the tired fallen alike.
John Shepard roared as another Mako was crushed under an avalanche of stone and sharp metal, another round of bodies to cake the road and another batch of troops lost to the hungry grind of the Reaper's War.
"Dammit," Garrus shouted out over the sounds of gunfire and screeches, "What's that, the fourth one?"
"Sixth actually," Shepard corrected as he took up position over a newly toppled stone cover that had seemed to fall perfectly for him, providing a view-arc of the fore guard so that he could snipe off prominent targets. His Black Widow felt hot and heavy in his hands as he clambered tiredly toward the makeshift barrier.
"Dammit," Garrus whispered as he sped another round through the night sky, taking out a duo of Husks that were attempting to sneak quietly past their defences.
Shepard quickly popped back up, swept the battlefield with his scope and ducked back under cover before any more hostiles could draw a bead on him.
Things had been going so well.
They had just finished the briefing at the Forward Command Post, Anderson detailing their slapdash plan to clear the way to the Conduit that would end the war. Nodding with their assignments, and with Shepard last motivational harangue fresh in their minds, they had moved off to ready themselves for their assignments and positions. He had taken Garrus and Kaidan along, his friend and his lover, and though instinct screamed at him and told him he was condemning them to death, they were adamant, Garrus claiming he would just trail behind Shepard even if he gave a direct order and Kaidan had looked stone faced, absolutely brutal, and let the silence stretch to insane levels before Shepard had cleared his throat and nodded his assent.
The rest of his team, his friends and the closest thing he would ever consider a family, had been spreading out in arcs as his aptly named 'Shadow Team' fought their way, inching closer and closer to the target that were the Thannix Missiles, the only thing that could conceivably damage the Reaper Destroyer that barred their path to their final goal. With their usual brutal efficiency and teamwork, they had flown through the shattered streets of London like ghosts, sticking to cover, watching each other's backs and sniping, shooting and killing anything that dared to cross their path. It was a glorious feeling, one of omnipotence and power and Shepard had felt a brief grin of triumph spread across his face as he scaled the last of the heavy rubble fall and spied the gleaming missiles, already prepped and ready.
That was the last smile that he had given since, and everything had seemed to go as quickly downhill as their descent into that cross-shaped bowl of death.
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