Jane Shepard: Reaper Slayer by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Jane-Shepard-Reaper-Slayer-1217611088

Jane Shepard: Reaper Slayer ANIMATION

Ashes in the Veins of Meridian

Jane Shepard had always believed cities possessed memories. Concrete remembered the shape of grief; windows held the residue of joy; alleyways whispered stories too thin for daylight. But Meridian—once a jewel of human–turian cooperation—had become a breaking spine of a city, bent under the weight of smoke, shattered metal, and panic.

And now, in the crimson dusk bleeding through the ruins, the city was remembering horror.

Shepard moved through collapsed storefronts and overturned skycar husks, her crimson-and-white N7 armor streaked with soot and glowing faintly where fresh heat scars had not fully cooled. Through the warped street ahead, distant silhouettes jerked unnaturally, twitching in arrhythmic spasms—the telltale movements of husks. Worse, their thunderous companions—the converted brutes—shook the ground with each ponderous, unnatural step.

Behind Shepard, a cluster of civilians huddled in an abandoned museum alcove. Their breaths steamed in the cold air, their fear a tangible pressure pressing at the edges of the commander’s resolve.

“Commander,” called a middle-aged turian woman, her mandibles trembling despite her attempt at composure. “Are you certain we shouldn’t move? The vibrations—"

Shepard turned to her, her face illuminated by the flicker of a burning skybridge above. “We’ll move. But not blindly. Charging out there now would be like running into a hungry varren pack wearing steak perfume.”

A ripple of nervous laughter fluttered among the civilians—thin, but real. Shepard felt the weight lessen slightly.

Another voice—this one soft, human, and faintly trembling—spoke up. “Do the husk brutes… do they track by sound?”

Shepard crouched beside the speaker—a young man with soot-darkened blond hair and a bandage wrapped around his arm—and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “They track by a lot of things. Movement. Heat. Disturbance. Mostly they follow orders we don’t hear.”

The young man swallowed. “But you’ll keep them off us?”

Shepard’s voice carried a quality even she didn’t fully understand—gentle, firm, and edged with an almost intimate promise. “I didn’t come all the way to Meridian to lose anyone. I’ll get you through this.”

Behind her visor, her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the street. She could feel the civilians watching her—some with awe, some with raw terror, a few with a tension that wasn’t quite either. Shepard always felt her presence had that effect in survival moments: people clung to her like she was a flicker of warmth in a long winter.

She touched her comm piece. “EDI, status?”

Static crackled, then the AI’s calm voice responded. “Reaper interference continues to cloud local scans. However, I believe three husk brutes are converging on your position from the north, accompanied by approximately fourteen base husks. They appear… agitated.”

“Of course they are. They must have sensed the civilians.” Shepard exhaled. “Any nearby routes still intact?”

“A maintenance access corridor lies fifty meters southeast. However, it is currently obstructed by debris and structural collapse. You may be able to clear it.”

“Understood.” Shepard rose. “We’ve got a way out, but it’s blocked. I’ll clear the path. Stay close, move only when I tell you.”

As she stepped toward the shattered street, someone grabbed her wrist lightly.

It was the turian woman again. “Commander Shepard… thank you. For coming back for us.”

Her eyes held gratitude, admiration, and—strangely—a spark of something more. Shepard allowed herself a fleeting smile, the kind meant to be remembered.

“Don’t thank me yet. Save it for after we’re all alive.”

The woman’s mandibles flared in what was unmistakably flustered affection before she released Shepard’s wrist.

Shepard turned—and the first tremor rolled through the stones underfoot.

The brutes were close.

—

She slipped into the open street like a shadow slipping between dying breaths. Fires cast grotesque silhouettes of twisted metal against the fallen walls. The air tasted like rust and ozone, a metallic tang that clung to her tongue.

Then she saw them.

Three brute husks lumbered forward, their bodies patchworks of metal, bone, and tortured flesh. Their glowing blue eyes burned like cold stars. Around them scrambled the smaller husks, their jaws stretched in silent howls.

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