Black and White

Gun smoke.

It was so thick in the small room refurnished to become the last line of defense the burned-out heatsinks seemed to float in the air after being thrown out of the rifle. Or maybe that lazy slow motion was only in his head, heavy with exhaustion. The smoke hazed his eyes with a cloudy veil playing tricks with his strained vision, sometimes all he had to rely on was his visor’s targeting system. It left the sickening sweet taste in his mouth even through the filters of his helmet – he doubted he could ever get rid of this taste. That would be the last taste he savored, he thought bitterly.

Taste of death. Taste of despair. Taste of disillusion.

Aim. Fire. Reload. Repeat.

The sniper rifle kicked back angrily – his shoulder went numb many hours ago, he didn’t care. Hundreds of shots ago. He already lost count of the time he was there – a single person fighting against what looked like a whole world to him.

And he was damn good at it.

His head, feeling heavy as if filled with lead - not this time - tilted to the scope. No thinking, his worn-out body had no resources for it. See a dancing ghostlike shadow in the smoke - Aim - forefinger pulls the trigger as gently as it could in a spasmodic jerk - Fire - used heatsink launches out of the chamber, burning, jumps and rolls on the floor, left hand reaches for the next one - Reload.

Repeat.

There were several times he started running short of ammo, he let a stray thought about leaving the last bullet for himself. If they get him alive, his fate would be much worse. Yet every time he gritted his teeth and sent the brains of another one unlucky merc splatter across the walls and the floor.

There must’ve been rivers of blood flowing under that bridge.

The mercs were dumb enough to leave him some time to collect some ammunition. They were dumb enough to let him return here, to lock himself in. Yet he was dumb enough to return to their base, to lock himself in, and this sniper nest would become his grave sooner or later.

Later.

Another shot; his right ear almost ignored the sound of it, deafened by the endless hours of fight.

He had nothing left in him. Emptiness that couldn’t be filled even with this thick smoke. Yet he still fought. He even had no strength to ask himself what for.

Mechanically. Because they attacked.

Small sound of his omni-tool. Message through an encrypted channel. There were no people using this channel to communicate with him left anymore. All lay dead in the next room, the corridor, the basement. Except for one. Who deserved to lie here most of them all, yet he was alive. Garrus was damn sure he was.

“Good luck there, Hero.”

The short message flashed as he jabbed his omni-tool hastily. He was too tired even for the spark of hatred. Was it Aria’s final mockery? He won’t live long enough to learn…

He received a message from her just when he was about to head out to the meeting point with Sidonis. She demanded him to arrive immediately, telling only she’s got something important and urgent for him. He ignored it, setting the priority – his men before her fancies. And then it all went wrong, everything he’s been working on came crashing down with the last ones of his men dying on him.

How long ago it was – 30 hours? 40? He stopped counting time after the first day cycle he had been forced to defend his small hideout from the combined forces of three most powerful mercenary factions of the whole Terminus. Hours he was glad to be filled with endless target practice – for him to have no time for reflexion where did he make the wrong decision.

He cheered himself for staying alive for that long even though he had no real optimism left. The gangs became desperate, judging from the pathetic disorganized groups of witless rookies they were sending to their certain death trying to cross the bridge and failing, but his concentration and reaction weren’t at their peak as well. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, but it was only a matter of time how soon they would break in, and he’d have to face them in close combat.

The time – past and left – was his biggest enemy now, and he couldn’t even fix this problem with a headshot.

Breath in – breath out. Steady the shaky hands. Lift the rifle, press it to the aching shoulder, look through the scope. Aim, fire, reload. Like a mechanism.

Another wave of wet-nose idiots – running like panicking cattle away from the barricades on the far end of the bridge, shooting in all directions and ending their chaotic rush with a bullet in their heads, one by one like a cattle in the slaughterhouse. Another round of testing his endurance, the gangs counting on him to make a mistake – he gritted his teeth, promising himself he won’t do them such a favor, although he wasn’t so sure anymore about his tired eyes and hands getting more and more unsteady with each round fired.

Headshot. Fountain of brains. Not your lucky day, kid. Funny, he stopped feeling anything long ago – just as if his targets were mere cardboard silhouettes at the shooting range, not living, breathing human beings. They ran – he released the bullets, one by one. Bald aged man – hairless head exploded after the slight pull of the trigger, eyes searching for another target while reloading. A guy in a ridiculous hat – what have you forgotten here? You would only find death, this is your last sprint, buddy. Visor registered a biotic field at the corner of the eye and notified him of the threat – swift swing of the barrel, the scope picked a group of three. Red-haired woman in gray armor…

Garrus blinked, losing his concentration for a second, quickly raised the rifle and sniped another guy running across the bridge and aimed the scope at the woman he noticed before.

His exhausted mind must’ve been playing dirty games with him. That wasn’t fair, he really counted on his sanity, but this couldn’t be real. Everything was so familiar it gave him shivers, like a cold helping hand of death reaching out from beyond the grave, waiting for him to give up - red hair, green eyes, he could even count the dots on the fair skin – they call it freckles…

Shepard…