Returning. [Open.]
subject line [ open/closed ]
who ; The Normandy Crew et all return from Asphodel.
what ; They find the base...uh...out of sorts.
where ; Garrus's Apartment Base.
when ; After completing their tasks on Asphodel.
warning(s) ; None.
"I never thought I'd be glad to be back here," Shepard muttered darkly as she holstered her pistol and opened the door to the apartment. The traps had all been in good shape, none of them had been triggered, none of them had been tampered with, and the dust on the street hadn't shown any sign of tracks besides the treads on the little trash bot.
Asphodel was vaguely reminisceint of Hell, or Tuchanka, in that it was a smoldering wasteland of unpleasant tunnels, smells, and grit. While it had been more than a little useful to learn about Lev's setup, to get a good solid look at him, his fortifications, and his tech, the amount of legitimately useful information, particularly that concerning their situation and how to rectify it, was light like a wallet on Omega.
But, on the sliding scale of shit that pissed her off, morally righteous freedom fighters were significantly better off than omnipresent AIs, crazy or otherwise. If neutralizing the AI or, at least, regaining absolute control over life support could make her people safer during this little detour, then it was officially on the agenda.
The door opened and Shepard cast a look at Garrus over her shoulder.
"Though, I am surprised I didn't have to shoot anyone," she said dryly as she crossed the threshold. The texture of the floor changed, abruptly, and a strange sound caught her off guard. She turned, as her boot skidded, and caught herself on the door-frame.
"What--?"
She was at a complete loss for words.
The room was spartan. Every spare item, and even...why was that chair missing a leg and half of its back? Everything that wasn't nailed down was gone...and in the middle of the room there was a small pyramid of compacted metal cubes. It would have been obscenely clean but for the dozens upon dozens of small, creeping, crawling things currently scuttling about.
Shepard righted herself and picked up her foot. The trail of unidentifiable slime, possibly just muck, had a powerful swamp odor. A frog hopped by, jumping turtles like they were skipping stones, and Shepard put her foot back down.
"Anything of note," she repeated to herself and pressed her palm against her forehead.
who ; The Normandy Crew et all return from Asphodel.
what ; They find the base...uh...out of sorts.
where ; Garrus's Apartment Base.
when ; After completing their tasks on Asphodel.
warning(s) ; None.
"I never thought I'd be glad to be back here," Shepard muttered darkly as she holstered her pistol and opened the door to the apartment. The traps had all been in good shape, none of them had been triggered, none of them had been tampered with, and the dust on the street hadn't shown any sign of tracks besides the treads on the little trash bot.
Asphodel was vaguely reminisceint of Hell, or Tuchanka, in that it was a smoldering wasteland of unpleasant tunnels, smells, and grit. While it had been more than a little useful to learn about Lev's setup, to get a good solid look at him, his fortifications, and his tech, the amount of legitimately useful information, particularly that concerning their situation and how to rectify it, was light like a wallet on Omega.
But, on the sliding scale of shit that pissed her off, morally righteous freedom fighters were significantly better off than omnipresent AIs, crazy or otherwise. If neutralizing the AI or, at least, regaining absolute control over life support could make her people safer during this little detour, then it was officially on the agenda.
The door opened and Shepard cast a look at Garrus over her shoulder.
"Though, I am surprised I didn't have to shoot anyone," she said dryly as she crossed the threshold. The texture of the floor changed, abruptly, and a strange sound caught her off guard. She turned, as her boot skidded, and caught herself on the door-frame.
"What--?"
She was at a complete loss for words.
The room was spartan. Every spare item, and even...why was that chair missing a leg and half of its back? Everything that wasn't nailed down was gone...and in the middle of the room there was a small pyramid of compacted metal cubes. It would have been obscenely clean but for the dozens upon dozens of small, creeping, crawling things currently scuttling about.
Shepard righted herself and picked up her foot. The trail of unidentifiable slime, possibly just muck, had a powerful swamp odor. A frog hopped by, jumping turtles like they were skipping stones, and Shepard put her foot back down.
"Anything of note," she repeated to herself and pressed her palm against her forehead.