"Reapers," Shepard pronounces the name with an old and grim hatred, black viciousness in her voice, despite her best efforts to throw the name out flippantly. It is a stupid name, overwrought, edgy even... unless you know what they are, "Every fifty thousand years they roll across the galaxy, killing every species that's managed to drag itself up into the stars. They turn the dead into husks, for their armies— they're not ice, and they aren't afraid of fire. Hell, they aren't afraid of anything."

That was what made them most dangerous, really. A husk would keep trying to kill you even if all it had left was one arm and its teeth; so long as there was something to power the body, the body kept fighting. You didn't realize how much of a fight swung on your opponent wanting to live until suddenly you were up against enemies who didn't particularly care.

"They're made of metal, mostly. You have to practically shred them to keep 'em down, and it's hard work— and even the dead ones aren't safe to be around. I've been fighting them one way or another for more than two years now. Won some breathing room before the main force hits, time to prepare; it's more than any civilization has ever had before us. Not that's gonna matter... because nobody believes me when I say the Reapers are coming. So it's kind of a shitshow."