John had gotten quite tired of running through exploding starships. This was the third time in as many weeks. Some variety would be nice. How about running through a perfectly intact starship, or perhaps through a construction site? Something other than Collector paraphernalia and fire, for once.<br/><br/>'Lieutenant-Commander,' said Lambda, 'hostiles approaching behind us.'<br/><br/>Dammit, the Collectors were fast. John turned and, with a grunt of effort, activated his biotic powers again, lifting the rubble and crates in the hangar with his mind. He began to clog the corridor from whence they'd come with the debris, stuffing as much junk and as many corpses into the opening as he could to buy the others a few more seconds. Come on, come on, he thought. The blue dots on his motion tracker scurried further and further away in the<span style="font-style: italic">Normandy's</span>direction. The Collectors began to pound the debris with explosives. He heard the ululations of Praetorians and Scions somewhere further inside the station.<br/><br/>'John,' Shepard yelled. 'We're clear! Come on!'<br/><br/>Releasing his hold of the makeshift barricade, John turned tail and ran. In the<span style="font-style: italic">Normandy's</span>doorway, he saw Garrus with an LMG and Shepard gesturing frantically for him to hurry up. Out of motes and his biotic implant a lance of white-hot pain, John sprinted as quickly as he could, vaulting over upturned deck plating and fallen rafters. No more aces in the hole, no more perfect defenses, and no more biotics. Behind him, the barricade exploded. As if he needed this day to get more lethal.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">IF I CAN CLAIM THE LIFE OF AT LEAST ONE EXALT THIS DAY, I SHALL.</span><br/><br/>The Collector station's self-destruction was joined by the explosions of submunitions as a possessed Scion bombarded the beleaguered Solar. His barriers were gone, his mind too taxed to focus on anything other than running to safety. The concussive force of the explosions buffeted him, even through his armor. Shrapnel tore into his legs, back, and arms. Red dots on the motion tracker winked out of existence as Garrus and Shepard returned fire.<br/><br/>With one final effort, John hurled himself into the space between ships, hand outstretched. Shepard dropped her sniper rifle and grabbed John's wrist. She drew her pistol and fired as quickly as the gun could cycle, using her Aspect's ranged Charms to intercept as many incoming rounds as she could. She couldn't stop them all. As they reentered the<span style="font-style: italic">Normandy</span>, John collapsed in a bloody heap. The world went dark. The crew was silent, even as Joker pulled away from the disintegrating station.<br/><br/>'How's it feel, motherfucker?' Jack said. 'How's it feel to be fuckin' dead?'<br/><br/>John coughed weakly. He opened his eyes a crack and gave her a look. 'Bro, it feels so sad. I feel so very alone.'<br/><br/>'And also,' he continued, pulling himself up, 'I gotta take a dump.'<br/><br/>Shepard didn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or to slap her Solar colleague. So she laughed, and the crew laughed with her. Everyone lived. That was good enough in her books.