For millennia, civilizations across the galaxy have fought evil through countless methods: prayer, fasting, good works, mercy. Only a few had attempted to use explosives. At that moment in time, John didn't believe he had a healthier or more deeply-felt respect for any other object in the universe than his shotgun. Or the<span style="font-style: italic">Doom</span>comic. Rip and tear, baby.<br/><br/>John slammed into the oncoming mob of Collectors, using the corpse of a Captain as a battering ram while he unloaded his N7 Crusader, fitted with upgraded heatsinks and a full-auto setting. High-explosive incendiary slugs detonated with sprays of gore and viscera as his shots slammed into the insectoid warriors. At this range, there was no way to miss. Holstering his shotgun, John ducked a clumsy swing of a Scion's gun arm, countering with a punch that tore head from neck.<br/><br/>'Four, One.'<br/><br/>The Solar took ducked behind the corpse of a Praetorian to reload. Raising a finger to his comm-bead, he responded. 'One, Four. How's our distraction?'<br/><br/>'John,' Shepard said, her voice distorted by static, 'What the hell are you guys doing over there?'<br/><br/>Shrugging, John racked the slide on his shotgun with a one-armed pump, rising to blast Drone in the face. 'Oh, uh, y'know, distracting.'<br/><br/>He strode past the craters and corpses left by his fellow Exalt, seemingly oblivious to the rounds bouncing off his kinetic barriers. Shotgun overheated again, John holstered it and began firing with his pistol. His Geiger counter ticked nervously. Probably the fallout from Esone's Anima.<br/><br/>'Seriously. Where are all the Collectors? The ship's almost completely deserted.'<br/><br/>'Uh...here and there. We've seen a few. One second.'<br/><br/>John took his finger off the comm and took a running leap, Charging into a pack of Husks and scattering them with a Nova. He raised a palm, blasting an airborne Abomination with a Shockwave which carried it into a platoon of Drones.<br/><br/>'Four, was that an explosion?'<br/><br/>'Wait, you mean you<span style="font-style: italic">don't</span>want us to go crazy?'<br/><br/>'Just try not to break the ship apart before we free the civvies, eh?'<br/><br/>John snorted. '"Eh"? I knew you were Canadian, boss, but I didn't think you were<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>Canadian.'<br/><br/>'Shut up, Four.'<br/><br/>'Yes, mom.'<br/><br/>'What was that?'<br/><br/>'Ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Sir. Eh.'<br/><br/>'I hate you, John.'<br/><br/>'Take a number and get in line, boss.'<br/><br/>Shepard snorted and cut the comm. John switched to the squad band. 'Yeah, new orders. Turns out Shepard wants us to turn down the bullshit kung-fu space magic. Preferably down from one to one-quarter Michael Bay.'