chapter 28

Right now Jason was hard at work, carefully putting some last minute adjustments on the piece sitting on the workbench, it would be monumental in the near future, capable of many great and wonderful things, so great in fact, it could not be wielded by a mere mortal due to the sheer awesome power it contained deep within the depths of its internal workings.

"Adjust the power field amplifiers by another sixteen point three percent for increased payload," while the entirely mad scientist was busy rambling to himself, he failed to notice a dark shadow creep its way across the cargo bay, which was actually a prop setting for when the Alliance Recruiting Committee wanted to shoot some more propaganda for the sheer sake of recruiting more postal workers, "implement adjustable gravity displacement meter as well as a few lights, that way it looks flashy."

By now the shadow, dressed in a real ninja outfit complete with a samurai sword and throwing stars, had somehow stumbled, tripped and rolled its way across the stage setting, knocking over four crates, a suit of power armor and a rack of expensive looking rifles that were also just regular stage props, not real weapons before it loomed over the absentminded scientist.

"Boo." Said the shadow.

"Should I go with the toxic green color scheme as well? Or perhaps the purple and blue stripes?"

"Boo!" Again the shadow got no response.

"I actually like the pink to be honest."

"Boo…" It appeared that the ninja clad shadow was annoyed that it had yet to receive any kind of response.

"Now where should I put the disclaimer sticker so I don't get sued by anyone attempting to use it?"

The shadow merely slumped in depression, a small storm cloud magically appearing over its head as it wallowed in self-pity for a few minutes before the shadow suddenly had an idea as it reached over and knocked one of the tools off the edge of the workbench.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Jason screeched as he watched the screwdriver plummet to the floor and roll away, "COME BACK TO ME BLANCH!"

"MUHAHAHAHAH!" The shadow gloated as it was now finally noticed by Jason, "My evil plan has now worked, bow before me and worship me as your god."

"How dare you," a demonic aura seemed to appear around the stricken scientist as he carefully cradled the screwdriver in his arms like a mother would cradle her newborn child, "how dare you commit such horrendous acts against a defenseless child, the spawn of my own loins, have you no shame!"

"Wait, what?" The shadow appeared horrified, "How can you give birth to metal tools? That doesn't make any sense! You're a guy for crying out loud!"

"Prepare to die!" With that, the shadow noticed the display Mako, nothing more than a fiberglass and sheet metal cutout was now suspended in the air and coming towards him at an incredible rate of speed before he simply slammed his heels together.

"THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!" Stunned silence answered him as a few crickets chirped in the background, "Huh I thought that would work?"

"What would work Whore Dorothy?" The shadow turned to see an amusing sight of the Scarecrow (some would say a Turain covered in bits of straw and overalls) standing above him, "You've fallen asleep again."

"EH?" The shadow looked down before jumping up and shrieking upon noticing that an iconic dress and a pair of ruby red slippers was in place of the ninja outfit, "Oh my God these shoes clash terribly with this skirt! What happened?"

"Y-y-you s-e-e-e," the Cowardly Lion (quite possibly a Krogan covered in patches of yellow shag carpet superglued to various locations on his body) stuttered, "the W-Wicked B-b-bitch of Mo-o-ore Wh-h-hores w-a-a-anted y-y-you as a-a-a c-c-call girl, s-s-so w-w-we al-l-l ran a-a-away."

"MY CHASTITY! IS IT INTACT?" The shadow squealed as the watching Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion sweat dropped at the display of the shadow groping himself, "Hey I've got a massive set of tits! This is awesome, I'll just play with my newfound breasts."

"OW! I got a boner inside this armor! It hurts so much!" The Tin Man shouted (bearing an uncanny resemblance to a previous Alliance Adept) as it gimped its way over to the odd trio, "Where are we?"

"You have arrived in the land of Dumb Azzz," a six foot tall talking Scottish terrier (or just Commander John fucking Shepard with a massive Magnum PI mustache!) spoke as he appeared before them in a puff of pink smoke, "woof."

"We are in need of a tour guide," Dorothy mused while still massaging his own chest, "oh look! It's Steven Hawkins! We're saved by the cripple!"

"Go. Fuck. Yourself." The unmistakable tones of Seth Green could be heard (if you need a hint then you are hopeless) as the chair rolled over Dorothy's foot, "Ugly. Big. Breasted. Bitch."

"Assholes," a clearly drunk off her ass Dark Witch Morgana cursed as she teetered her way over (yet again another costume anyone would pat money to see Jane Shepard wearing) to Toto and vomited all over Steven Hawkins, "one minute I was in Vegas and the next my mother-in-law was bitching at me for attempting to cover the lands in eternal darkness, what the fuck?"

"Stand fast ye gutless knaves," a kilt wearing and massive sword toting woman dressed in a horrible impression of Mel Gibson from Braveheart (everyone agrees that Ashely Williams needs to lose the sideburns) shouted as she kicked the Scarecrow in the junk, earning a high pitched wailing screech, "for I challenge thy to a duel in the name of freedom."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Everyone present shouted before drop kicking, punching, glaring or running away in terror towards the female warrior, "This is a serious problem here!"

"We must all sit down and reflect upon something positive," a busty blue bombshell dressed in a chic lawyer outfit and a blond wig said as she sat down on an invisible chair and began typing, "that way we can embrace the positive energy around us."

"WHY IN THE FUCK AM I DRESSED AS A FUCKING CHICK!" A familiar looking Jason screamed as he stomped his way over to Dorothy in a familiar Tomb Raider outfit and punted Dorothy in the sandbox, "AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN GIVE ME A SET OF TITS TO PLAY WITH!"

"I think you got some gold coins falling out of your ass though," a sneering Ghost Rider (if Nicholas Cage ever had an alien figure and an environmental suit and visor covered in flaming Hot Wheels stickers) gloated as she walked by and hit the Lara Croft impersonator with a real flaming chain, "get back to makeup, you look terrible."

"We must have all been gathered here for a very important reason," everyone blanched at the sight of a very old (read Dr. Chakwas) Shirley Temple flouncing across the room, "and I feel as though I should break out in song complete with a backup chorus."

"Aye for we must plunder Whore Dorothy of her, uh I mean his virginity," a somewhat sharp looking Michael Jackson (sounding somewhat like Captain Anderson) brandishing a pimp cane in one hand while wearing a letterman's jacket, "in the next five minutes baby."

"Now hold on everyone," Dorothy whined as everyone turned towards her, er I mean him, "I want a single file line and everyone has to agree to the seven minute time limit or else we won't play Seven Minutes of Heaven, got it?"

A chorus of impatient grumbling answered him, no I mean her, aw fuck, IT!

"Does anyone have anything against blueberry scented air fresheners?"

This was a moment of inspiration from last year's Halloween party, complete with Seven Minutes of Heaven that resulted in my good buddy having his second kid with his wife, though we have no idea who exactly the father was…

XXX

"Alright everyone," Commander John Shepard said as he walked forward in front of the line of assembled troops, "this is the part where I make a badass sounding speech and no one can do it better than me, am I right?"

With that, a battered Orbital Drop pod appeared from the sky and flattened Commander John Shepard ("Oh my God they killed Kenny!") before the door was blown off with such force it killed an advancing Reaper.

Sergeant Major Avery Johnson walked out of the pod nursing a smoking cigar between his teeth and an assault rifle as he sized everyone up.

"Alright listen here you greenhorns, today is your lucky day as we destroy the threat to Humanity and fuck anything that gets in our way, am I right Marines?"

"Uh sir," a random dude piped up from the back, "we're just a bunch of sailors, I think you're at the wrong set."

"Shut your whore mouth son," everyone shuddered as they watched the unfortunate bloke get dismembered with an energy sword from nowhere, "now all of you, double time!"

Halo, deal with it.

XXX

"This is usually the part where someone is unlucky enough to read over the fan mail," Jane groaned as she dropped a massive stack of letters in the middle of the cargo bay with a grunt, "and it will not be me."

"Aren't paper letters kind of out of date?" Jackson asked rhetorically as he dropped another bag next to the first, "We've got space age email and omni chat messaging, I mean duh?"

"Still, the author demands that someone goes over and reads the fan mail simply for his sake of amusement," John grumbled as he opened the first bag, "fucking sadist."

"So how do we do this? We each read one addressed to ourselves and then space the rest?" Ashley asked as she sat down on a nearby crate, "Because the next letter I read asking for a porno shoot is gonna get blasted in the nuts with a rocket launcher."

(Joker sneezed violently and discarded the phony letter he was writing to the members of the Normandy ground team asking for an orgy video and started on the next one.)

"I think the author should be the one answering the fan mail, that way all of his beloved fans know that he hasn't forgotten them nor forgot about us in this story, but is instead having us do it," Alenko grumbled, "coward."

"Piss off Alenko, you get excited every single time someone asks for you to kiss either Shepard or someone else on the team," Jason replied before pointing a sidearm at said Alliance biotic, "don't even think about it."

"Guess I'll go first then," Jackson sighed as he snagged a letter and tore it open and began reading it too himself before he paled slightly, "Holy Shit!"

"What?" "Another request for a threesome with Garrus and Adams?" "Nude pic?" Was the reply from everyone sitting around the mailbag as Jackson hyperventilated for a few seconds before regaining his composure.

Dear Fellow Super Powered God,

As much as it pains me to say, you appear as nothing more than comic relief on this particular team and should immediately stop trying to impress everyone with your ridiculous twelve pack abs that can grind cheese, biceps that stop bullets and homicidal knife happy tendencies that take everything to a whole new level of overkill.

On a side note, until you've killed a man using nothing more than an onion, three rubber bands, a spatula and a jar of tomato sauce and get away with it, only then you can calm to be the greatest sidekick ever.

A word of advice and take it from a man who leads a double life of lies and deceit in order to unleash a more awesome personality to fight crime at night with nothing more than a couple thousand dollar gadgets, body armor, a supped up ride that can fly, shoot missiles and turn into a motorcycle and help from a kickass butler older than dirt to hunt down a man who cannot stop laughing and a woman with a fetish for spandex, whips and cat nip, you should really date Ashely Williams.

Yours truly, Batman.

Those of you who tried reading this in your "scary Batman voice" I salute you!

"Holy shit bro," Jason gaped, "you just got called a little bitch by none other than the Batman, burn."

"How can you compete with that?" Jackson wept, "It is the word of the Batman, there is no greater law than his word!"

"Isn't the Batman nothing more than a make believe character that resides in a fiction world as the figment of some comic book writers' imagination?" Garrus asked out loud as he sat down.

(On a side note, Garrus will no longer be joining the Normandy team for any future missions due to the fact a mysterious figure in black swarmed through the ship, disabled everyone and abducted said Turain sniper, leaving only an iconic throwing star embedded in the bulkhead next to where Garrus had been sitting.)

"Okay," Jane coughed as she waved a hand in front of her face to clear away the smoke bomb residue, "next letter will be Wrex."

Wrex growled as he took his letter and tore it open.

Dear Blood Krantt,

You are weak.

Sincerely, Your Father

"Huh, say that too my face after I kill you again." Wrex grumbled as he tossed the letter into a bonfire that had spontaneously appeared in front of him.

"It would appear as though these fans do not find this level of criticism as important," Liara said as she opened her letter, "let us see what they have to say."

Dear Socially Awkward and Nerdy,

Girl (even though Asari are considered mono-gendered, you have tits and a vag therefore making you a girl) if you don't pull your head out of the dusty old relics of the past and land you some prize winning man meat, you'll be a dried up old crone sitting next to those dusty old relics wondering how you went extinct.

Use those man catching looks and hunt down some award winning wedding tackle this instant.

Yours truly, The Consort

"It would appear that I am receiving advice that I do not understand," Liara mused as everyone could be seen face faulting in the background, "should someone else read their letter?"

"Alenko," Jane said as she pointed at said man, "your turn."

Said Alliance Adept sighed as he reached through a massive stack of letters, his inner gaydar warning him of potential awkward or unsavory content until his hand was guided to a generic looking envelope as he opened it and began reading.

For those of you who want to know what the letter says, tune in for the next Crack installment.

XXX (Line Break!)

^^^ It's like a swift kick to the balls isn't it?

"I'm telling you man, we need a montage," Jackson said whilst blasting a random number of slavers and other assorted hostiles in the face with his massive assault rifle as he conversed with his shorter twin, who was sending single enemy combatants into the ceiling at terminal velocity, "that way we can totally slay all these noobs with an epic soundtrack!"

"Is Jackson talking to himself in the middle of a firefight again?" Garrus asked (wearing a mysterious bat shaped visor that he refused to explain on its origins) once he slid into cover not too far away.

Jason nodded, absentmindedly blasting another bad guy in the chest with a biotic attack that disintegrated the bad guy down to the molecular level, "No, he wants to make a montage."

"What is a montage?" Garrus suddenly narrowed his eyes as one of his mandibles twitched, "Is this another attempt to make a sexually graphic video for a million credits?"

"It can be if you want!" Jackson called back as Jason simply face palmed, "But I was thinking more like shooting, stabbing, strangling and killing all these assholes while a really cool soundtrack was playing, that way we look like total badasses when we post it on the extranet."

"Sounds like fun!" Jane replied as she vaulted over a stack of large crates, shooting three bad guys at point blank range with a sidearm that looked like it belonged in a 1980's Hollywood sci-fi flick, "What do we have for a selection so far?"

"I need some ideas."

"How about something retro, you know what I'm saying, that everyone knows," Jane said, "That way everyone knows the song."

"That was kind of the idea of a montage to begin with, but I was asking for music selections." Jackson retorted with an absolute deadpanned expression.

"Heavy metal mixed with techno."

"You need the classics man."

"I know of some Turain horror movie soundtracks that would be perfect."

"For combat?"

"No, the mess hall."

"Touché."

"What about polka?" Several horrified expressions turned to look at John, who was too busy sniping away at some more bad guys to notice, "Get some easy listening, people love it."

Multiple heads turned to look at Jane, "You don't even want to know."

"Okay, next suggestion?"

"I like the idea of instrumental and electronic tone music," Tali pitched in from her own fight where seven Krogan were being schooled by a single drone, "something fast paced and exciting."

Jason abruptly stopped levitating a hapless bad guy into the nearest wall (failing to notice Garrus swooping in to steal his kill) as he brought up his omni-tool, "I've got some Skrillex for us to listen too."

"Uh, Jason, don't you remember the warnings on what were to happen if…"

With that, as the first few tones of a rather iconic sound began piping out of the omni-tool's speakers, utter Hell broke loose.

Batarians were shooting themselves in the head.

Geth were exploding into showers of sparks as the collective intelligence simply couldn't compute the sheer magnitude of the data presented to it.

Every single Asari within earshot had stopped fighting and was beginning to strip, gyrating to some unknown beat.

Sovereign was seen in the background melting into a puddle of molten metal as a force far more powerful than it ever could be was confronted.

Krogan were suddenly breaking out into renditions of line dancing, with surprising coordination and grace.

Garrus was last seen sprinting towards the edge of a cliff screaming incoherent nonsense at the top of his lung (little known fact that Turians only have one instead of two) about flying.

Creepers were starting to smolder before bursting into flames, bring the scent of weed to the air.

Saren was arm wrestling with himself before he transformed into his Uber Saren form and began frolicking in a field of flowers, complete with giggling and skipping.

Rachni were breaking out the Earl Grey and top hats because they couldn't wear the monocles.

Tali simply let out a bedroom worthy groan before collapsing into a boneless heap.

Every single human simply watched in awe at the spectacle going on around them, although a few of them were suddenly jamming out and donning black nail polish.

Jackson simply glared at his twin, who was standing there in shock next to Jane and John.

"That is the reason why Skrillex cannot be in this montage!"

"My bad?"