Where Dragons Fly

Chapter I

Sable Eagle-00: KIA

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or Mass Effect.

A\N: On an entirely different note: chalk up the first ME\IC crossover on this site!

'Micky! Get that pylon up and running, we've got company, I want a sniper salute when it gets here!' Shouted Karl Drezani as he slid around the corner of a burned out shopfront.

The telltale roars of a pair of brutes followed him.

Sliding to a stop beside the damaged Mako his team were using as part of a makeshift barricade, Karl unslung his Raptor sniper rifle and dialled it to fire incendiary rounds, then deftly grabbed the thermal clip Micky's supply pylon had spat out and reloaded. Next to him, the geth infiltrator the team had formerly referred to as Alpha,-now known as Meta after having acquired the runtimes of a Prime that had been destroyed during a disagreement with a Harvester,- reloaded their Black Widow Anti-matériel rifle while Shira T'neiv swapped her Disciple shotgun for a heavily modded Mattock semi-automatic assault rifle, Xethos Harran unfolded an N7 Valkyrie and Rictus pulled a Phaeston.

'What are we lookin' at, Karl?' Asked Lieutenant Jacob Johnson, a Devastator Karl had known since they'd trained together in Rio de Janeiro as he primed his Hawk missile launcher and loaded his N7 Piranha.
'They're coming in standard formation: little bastards up front, big ones in back, tall bitches all over the place and things with guns behind them.' Karl replied.

Calcon Dree, a Salarian Engineer who'd been seconded from the STG pulled his Saber assault rifle. Karl had once asked where he'd got it from, considering they were usually custom-made for Alliance soldiers. Calcon had made a roundabout, vague reply that it was a STG clone, and left it at that, much to Karl's annoyance. 'Shouldn't be too problematic.' He said encouragingly.
'Kind of like full-contact target practice.' Djurint Krekka mused in his guttural bass as the big teal-crested krogan reloaded his Revenant LMG.

Further comments from the team's various members were cut short as a horde of cyborg undead came boiling over, around and through the wreckage of buildings that had been old before humans took to the stars and burned out air-cars. They'd been doing this for months now, so they all knew what to do:

Xethos used his biotics to lift a cluster of husks and Rictus sent a warp right into one of them, sparking a chain reaction of biotic explosions that took the rest out and served to floor other husks near the explosion along with stagger a banshee that had been a bit too close, while Krekka, focused on scything down foes with his machinegun.

While this was going on, Karl, Meta, Shira, Calcon and a Migrant Fleet Marine Corporal called Rella'Venn vas Norroh were having what was essentially a sniping contest: If a marauder or cannibal hunkered down to escape Krekka's bullet storm, one or more of them would kill it with a well placed shot or two.

Amidst the general mayhem, it was inevitable that a few Reaper soldiers would reach them. These died either at Karl's sword-blade or at those of the squad's resident Slayer: Lieutenant Jeffrey Drezani. Karl's younger brother.

'Shuttle's here. Get-' The shuttle pilot never finished his exclamation, because at that moment, a pair of ravagers that had crested a pile of rubble opened fire on the unfortunate Kodiak and shot it out of the air, killing the pilot on impact.

'There goes our ride!' Rictus shouted as he unloaded his Phaeston into a brute's neck, effectively decapitating it.
'What do we do now?' Micky shouted as she hurled an arc grenade into a mob of cannibals like it had done her a personal insult.
'We drag as many of these fuckers into hell with us as we can!' Roared Krekka as he slammed a fresh thermal clip into his Revenant

Jeffrey, who'd just finished pulling his sword out of a Banshee's spine looked over the squad at the edge of the collapsed road on the other side of the miniature chasm between them and the rest of the city. 'DUCK!' He shouted racing towards the oncoming Reaper horde,-

-but he was too late.

The Blackstar-wielding Marauder fired it's all-powerful heavy-weapon, sending what was virtually a naked singularity arcing into the middle of the team. When the photonic fallout cleared, the team,-formerly dubbed 'Sable Eagle-00,'-and the improvised barricade they'd made their final stand behind, were gone, leaving only scorch marks where once had been a team defying gods.

Some of you might look at this and say 'Oh no, Master of the Blood Wolves is writing a curb-stomp.'

To which, my reply is: 'Well, I hope not.'

There's a lot of interesting quandaries to be explored in the concept of this and I'm open to suggestions for story ideas, so by all means fire away.

Also: while I got the inspiration for this story mainly through ME3's multiplayer aspect, the ME characters will not be stuck with just two guns and three powers, so they'll have more like the utility of the single-player characters but with a bit more flexibility.

Anyone who wants specifics about that: feel free to ask.

On another note, I'd like to thank Colonel-Mustard1990 for helping me thrash out names and loadouts.

And, as usual, please:

No One-liner reviews.