004 ♁ Video

[assumeddirectcontrol]

Shit. This place looks almost as bad as Earth. [The voice comes first, a tired drawl as the camera on her omni-tool shakes a bit. It moves then, to her stomach, showing burned remnants of her armor barely attached to her civilian clothes underneath and a hole in her gut that's dripping with blood; the reason why her hand is there.

Finally, the camera stops shaking so much as Shepard sits down heavily against a building, not really caring about the uncomfortable feel of rubble. She switches hands and brings the arm with her omni-tool up. Her face is pretty much just in the same shape as the rest of her, bruised and bloody, although she somehow manages a smirk.] My Earth, I guess I should say. [There's a moment of silence as her eyes glaze over before she blinks again.]

So, not to worry anybody, but I think I might need a medic over here to keep me from leaking everywhere. [A snort.] Better idea: someone bring me a stiff drink. I think I could use one.

[Her eyes close just before her arm falls into her lap.] By the way, we won. [That's for the other Mass Effecters. They'll know what she means.]

[ooc: someone is back from her canon update :'3 also with a new journal name!]

Comments

[video, after she's had a few days to heal]

[trustycrowbar]

...Commander? You mind telling me what the hell happened to you back there?

[The influx of video replies meant his would be lost in the shuffle, and Shepard was obviously in no shape to have yet another person give her the third degree. So he waited a few days, but the call was still awkward.]

[video]

[assumeddirectcontrol]

War, Doctor. [She's looking better, at least physically.] Back home, we had been at war for awhile. Some people would say a few months, but it was closer to three years, really.

[trustycrowbar]

[A small sympathetic sigh.]

A lot of government double-talk? Their official position is that they have it all under control, even though it's obvious that they don't?

[assumeddirectcontrol]

[A grin.] Actually, their official position was that the things we fought didn't exist, despite all of the evidence saying the exact opposite.

[trustycrowbar]

I don't envy you if you were in that kind of position. [He gets the feeling he would have been in the same exact one, trying to warn everyone about boogeymen from beyond the stars and probably in vain, had he made it out of Black Mesa under his own power. But now's not the time to muse about what-ifs.]

So what were they, exactly?

[assumeddirectcontrol]

Giant sentient machines called Reapers. They were built by an organic race to protect organics. [She rolls her eyes. Because everything about this situation is stupid.] Apparently, the only way to keep organics safe from synthetics is to have synthetics cull organics. It's stupid.

[trustycrowbar]

[He blinks, starts to say something. Stops, thoughtfully. Tries again. Stops.]

... ...now, when you say "cull..?"

[assumeddirectcontrol]

I mean they would collect millions upon millions of organic life and crush them into paste. Or change them into one of their warriors, which is just as horrific.

[trustycrowbar]

Christ...

[...What else do you say to that, really?]

[assumeddirectcontrol]

And that's just me telling you about it. [There's not a lot you can really say in the face of that.]