Well, at least these Collector platforms were faster than Citadel elevators. Diagnosis and speech over, the Exalted descended deeper and deeper into  the Collector Station.<br/><br/>'Something's off,' John muttered.<br/><br/>'You noticed that, too?' Shepard flicked her sniper rifle's safety off.<br/><br/>'Yeah. The geometry's all wrong. Golden ratios that are just slightly off, structurally impossible angles, and such. Mathematically speaking, we've traveled for so long that we should be<span style="font-style: italic">outside</span>the station by now.'<br/><br/>'I swear, if this ends in a trip to R'lyeh, I'm punching whatever hack got put in charge of writing this drek.'<br/><br/>'Shepard, you're Canadian. We all know you're too nice to do that.'<br/><br/>'John?'<br/><br/>'Yes?'<br/><br/>'Hush.'<br/><br/>'Hey, are those Collectors up there?'<br/><br/>'Uh, yeah. They're heading towards us.'<br/><br/>John turned to Shepard expectantly. She smirked knowingly, holstering the Widow and unlimbering an N7 Typhoon light machine gun. The Collectors raised their guns and fired. Not a single round touched the team's shields. Shepard shot them all out of the air. By the end of it, the insectoid warriors had all collapsed, their torsos ventilated.<br/><br/>Say what you will about power levels--Terrestrial Exalted make for excellent squadmates. John had read up on the Charms designed by the Citadel races in the years since Shepard's fateful trip to Ilos. The Commander had linked Sparrow Dives At Hawk with the Seven-Year Swarm Volley. The first Charm allowed a Terrestrial's shots to knock projectiles from the sky, then counter-attack the shooter, while the latter allowed her to extend that protection to her allies.<br/><br/>Of course, that probably would not work against the thing they saw next: a colossus of soulsteel in the core of the Collector Station, its skeletal face slack-jawed, its Soulsteel skin swirling with the faces of trapped, tormented spirits. Four great glass cylinders hung from the ceiling, injecting some manner of fluid into the dormant titan. It did not look inactive so much as sleeping, awaiting some call to arms while it slumbered on its gibbet. It was a miniature Reaper. A human Reaper.<br/><br/>'Saw this coming from a mile away,' John muttered.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">YOUR FIGHT ENDS HERE. YOUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT. IT MATTERS NOT WHETHER YOU JOIN THE CHORUS OF SOULS WILLINGLY. YOU SHALL FALL, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.</span><br/><br/>The buzz of insect wings and the hellish glow of possession heralded the arrival of another Collector host.<br/><br/>'Saw that coming too, to be honest.'<br/><br/>Shepard switched guns again, this time activating the M-920 Cain. 'John, LT, up front. Do what you do best and keep the Collectors off us. Forty-two, with me. We're going to break Harbinger's little toy.'