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fandomweekly2017-01-22 09:34 pm
toffeecat) wrote in fandomweekly2017-01-22 09:34 pm
Entry tags:
[#029] Routine (Mass Effect)
Theme Prompt: #029 - Bait and Switch
Title: Routine
Fandom: Mass Effect
Rating/Warning: G / Canon-typical violence
Bonus: No
Word Count: 942
Summary: Would it have been too much to ask for a single mission to go to plan?
“You sure this is the right place?”
Wrex’ voice came clear through the speaker in her helmet, his grunts were immediately translated into Galactic Standard. Slowly, she was getting used to his dark timbre, and to wearing a translator at all times; small differences she didn't have to think about with an all-human crew. She had gotten used to worse.
Shepard looked around; he was right. The desert they were wandering through wasn’t the usual place for a slaver hideout. As much as there was a usual place for this kind of things, anyway. However, they hadn’t seen anything but sand since they had landed here.
But the signal had come from this planet, as their contact had indicated; and batarians wouldn't care much about this dry heat like she did. If her exosuit didn’t cool her, the sun would have cooked her long ago.
It was only a standard mission, part of their routine while looking for every scrap of information about Saren they could find. Not that she expected to find him here of all places, no. But the rogue spectre wasn't the only one causing turmoil in Citadel space, albeit on a bigger scale than most others did.
Like that slaver they were supposed to find here. His bunker had to be somewhere… Maybe it was buried underground?
“Joker ran the coordinates through twice to be certain. This is the spot. We have to be alert, big guy. Might have to dig a bit.”
Garrus muttered something, too low for her translator to catch. She would ask him about it back on the Normandy; if she couldn’t trust her crew unconditionally, their mission was doomed to fail already. And Commander Shepard did not fail.
“Not interested in busting a slave ring?” she teased them instead, knowing all too well that they were, be it for different reasons. She had yet to meet someone, human or turian, as keen on righting the wrongs of the universe as Garrus was; he was a little naive in his idealistic, black-and-white view of the world, but she really couldn’t fault him for it. Wrex on the other hand was in for the reward. He would be on the other side if they paid more. But he didn’t bother to hide it, and she had made sure he wouldn’t find rich people who wanted her dead.
There were many who disliked her enough, for various reasons. She got the job done, no matter the cost, and many had called her ruthless for it; as long as it weren't their loved ones she and her crew risked anything for. But no-one could accuse her of not knowing her crew.
The ground trembled under them, the reddish sand being pushed to the side.
“Looks like the ground’s doing the digging for us, Shepard.” The krogan sounded not even closely as surprised as she was.
In her mind, she quickly went through all the underground facilities she knew; she had had set foot in more than enough of them, friendly and otherwise. There had been elaborately hidden tunnel entrances, elevators, simple hatches… None of them were equipped with self-rising technologies. She didn't know much about Prothean devices, other than that this planet wouldn't be as empty as it was now if there were still functioning Prothean relics on it; Liara could have told her more about whether they had actually built something relevant to their current situation.
And there was nothing that dwelled on a planet this desolate, nothing except-
“Thresher maw! Scatter!”
She didn’t think but only reacted to Wrex’ warning, diving to her side at his call; and not a moment too soon. A giant worm erupted from the shaking surface, where she had stood mere seconds before. It craned its body, its teeth-rimmed maw facing her and her fire team. Green acid dripped down in head-sized drops, burning holes into the sand.
She released her gun’s safety hatch. Would it have been too much to ask for a single mission to go to plan? The thresher maw shrieked as they riddled him with bullets. One person not trying to double-cross them in the damned galaxy? She unloaded her magazine into its maw, until she felt the grip of her pistol singe her gloves. Just for once? She gritted her teeth, waiting for her gun to cool.
“Are thresher maws the new crime lords? Can’t see them putting shackles around wrists, really.”
She ignored Garrus’ quip, rolling out of the way as the giant fiend stooped its maw towards her. The ground shook again at the impact; acid splattered everywhere, and she heard it sizzle through her shields. She shot at it while it was straightening itself. More acid gushed from the new wound, and it unleashed a deafening outcry.
“Don’t be all smart now,” she yelled over the noise. “Just shoot that damn worm!”
Another shot was fired, and the creature all but screamed, before it collapsed onto the ground.
“What was that?” Garrus’ subharmonics made him sound even more smug than he already was. He always was like that after he got a kill.
She stepped closer to the corpse, and gently kicked against it. The flesh gave away, and revealed a piece of a broken transmitter, poking out of the sand underneath it. She turned with a sigh; Garrus had his sniper rifle still at the ready, while Wrex was cleaning his shotgun. Rolling her eyes, she wiped some grime off her exosuit. So this was what she got trying to help people...
“I think we have some unfinished business left on the Citadel. Someone wants me dead? Well, they damn better try it themselves!”
Title: Routine
Fandom: Mass Effect
Rating/Warning: G / Canon-typical violence
Bonus: No
Word Count: 942
Summary: Would it have been too much to ask for a single mission to go to plan?
“You sure this is the right place?”
Wrex’ voice came clear through the speaker in her helmet, his grunts were immediately translated into Galactic Standard. Slowly, she was getting used to his dark timbre, and to wearing a translator at all times; small differences she didn't have to think about with an all-human crew. She had gotten used to worse.
Shepard looked around; he was right. The desert they were wandering through wasn’t the usual place for a slaver hideout. As much as there was a usual place for this kind of things, anyway. However, they hadn’t seen anything but sand since they had landed here.
But the signal had come from this planet, as their contact had indicated; and batarians wouldn't care much about this dry heat like she did. If her exosuit didn’t cool her, the sun would have cooked her long ago.
It was only a standard mission, part of their routine while looking for every scrap of information about Saren they could find. Not that she expected to find him here of all places, no. But the rogue spectre wasn't the only one causing turmoil in Citadel space, albeit on a bigger scale than most others did.
Like that slaver they were supposed to find here. His bunker had to be somewhere… Maybe it was buried underground?
“Joker ran the coordinates through twice to be certain. This is the spot. We have to be alert, big guy. Might have to dig a bit.”
Garrus muttered something, too low for her translator to catch. She would ask him about it back on the Normandy; if she couldn’t trust her crew unconditionally, their mission was doomed to fail already. And Commander Shepard did not fail.
“Not interested in busting a slave ring?” she teased them instead, knowing all too well that they were, be it for different reasons. She had yet to meet someone, human or turian, as keen on righting the wrongs of the universe as Garrus was; he was a little naive in his idealistic, black-and-white view of the world, but she really couldn’t fault him for it. Wrex on the other hand was in for the reward. He would be on the other side if they paid more. But he didn’t bother to hide it, and she had made sure he wouldn’t find rich people who wanted her dead.
There were many who disliked her enough, for various reasons. She got the job done, no matter the cost, and many had called her ruthless for it; as long as it weren't their loved ones she and her crew risked anything for. But no-one could accuse her of not knowing her crew.
The ground trembled under them, the reddish sand being pushed to the side.
“Looks like the ground’s doing the digging for us, Shepard.” The krogan sounded not even closely as surprised as she was.
In her mind, she quickly went through all the underground facilities she knew; she had had set foot in more than enough of them, friendly and otherwise. There had been elaborately hidden tunnel entrances, elevators, simple hatches… None of them were equipped with self-rising technologies. She didn't know much about Prothean devices, other than that this planet wouldn't be as empty as it was now if there were still functioning Prothean relics on it; Liara could have told her more about whether they had actually built something relevant to their current situation.
And there was nothing that dwelled on a planet this desolate, nothing except-
“Thresher maw! Scatter!”
She didn’t think but only reacted to Wrex’ warning, diving to her side at his call; and not a moment too soon. A giant worm erupted from the shaking surface, where she had stood mere seconds before. It craned its body, its teeth-rimmed maw facing her and her fire team. Green acid dripped down in head-sized drops, burning holes into the sand.
She released her gun’s safety hatch. Would it have been too much to ask for a single mission to go to plan? The thresher maw shrieked as they riddled him with bullets. One person not trying to double-cross them in the damned galaxy? She unloaded her magazine into its maw, until she felt the grip of her pistol singe her gloves. Just for once? She gritted her teeth, waiting for her gun to cool.
“Are thresher maws the new crime lords? Can’t see them putting shackles around wrists, really.”
She ignored Garrus’ quip, rolling out of the way as the giant fiend stooped its maw towards her. The ground shook again at the impact; acid splattered everywhere, and she heard it sizzle through her shields. She shot at it while it was straightening itself. More acid gushed from the new wound, and it unleashed a deafening outcry.
“Don’t be all smart now,” she yelled over the noise. “Just shoot that damn worm!”
Another shot was fired, and the creature all but screamed, before it collapsed onto the ground.
“What was that?” Garrus’ subharmonics made him sound even more smug than he already was. He always was like that after he got a kill.
She stepped closer to the corpse, and gently kicked against it. The flesh gave away, and revealed a piece of a broken transmitter, poking out of the sand underneath it. She turned with a sigh; Garrus had his sniper rifle still at the ready, while Wrex was cleaning his shotgun. Rolling her eyes, she wiped some grime off her exosuit. So this was what she got trying to help people...
“I think we have some unfinished business left on the Citadel. Someone wants me dead? Well, they damn better try it themselves!”
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