Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes, Esone lead the pell-mell charge through the Collector base. There is no one better suited to lead a tactical advance away from the enemy than a coward.<br/><br/>Drones and Avatars popped up out of the walls with frustrating regularity, yet were mowed down with proportional ease. As much as Harbinger believed the Normandy's crew to be insects, it's own strength seemed to have been sundered along with the rapidly collapsing station. Esone paused only to scavenge shards of Soulsteel from fallen Avatars - the material was unholy as all hell, but no servant of the Yozi was going to pass up such a useful regent. Soon his arms were well-laden with the hideous alloy, reducing his combat capability to bone-shattering kicks and vicious headbutts. The chill the fragments exuded was quite pleasant on the other hand, soothing his aching arms and leaving a trail of ghostly wisps in the party's wake.<br/><br/>Their progress was cut short as the crew burst out of the latest stretch of service tunnels, stumbling into a new, cavernous room. One with no shortage of wreckage and pulverized Collector corpses. Several of which had been arranged to spell out prayers to Malfeas.<br/><br/>"Shit. We... wanted to end up back at the hangar, right? RIGHT?"<br/><br/>"The place we dropped Team Four? I can handle that." Joker's voice crackled over the comm, the signal erratic with the wild fluctuations accompanying the destruction of Harbinger's clubhouse. As he spoke the Normandy rose into view, launch-bay doors opened to the Collector hangar.<br/><br/>"All Aboard, mind the step!" The 'step' was a good hundred feet, at best.<br/><br/>"I hate you, Joker."