"Who the hell would— No, let me guess. Some big faceless corporation trying to play merchant of death," She waves a hand with dismissive anger. Exogeni, Cerberus— Hell, all of Noveria, Shepard's heard this refrain before, "Unbelievable."
No backdoor, no backup plan, no contingency worth caring about, and why would you? No profit in giving a damn about people, after all. The most careless, high-handed, egotistical shit you could imagine— The worst evil in the world is so common and banal that you barely have to name it, always. As common as dirt and twice as filthy.
"We Gethed ourselves, with military mechs, without even getting to the next star-cluster first. That's just sad. Pisses me off."
It was enough to make you want to punch something. Someone. The Horizon shifts again, like an uneasy cat, and Shepard has to exert real effort into not simply stalking over to the gun-rack in search of a less appropriate way to vent her agitation. Shepard folds her arms again instead; control yourself, breathe, you are better than this. You are.
"So business as usual," If you're hearing anger in her voice, it's because she's angry. It's not even her world, but then... since when did it have to be? Shepard didn't have to live somewhere to despise the waste of it all, "How'd this finally circle back around to you, and your kind of people? You don't strike me as the kind of person who goes on ice and lets the chips lay where they fall, and nobody survived that kind of apocalypse, not for long."
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No backdoor, no backup plan, no contingency worth caring about, and why would you? No profit in giving a damn about people, after all. The most careless, high-handed, egotistical shit you could imagine— The worst evil in the world is so common and banal that you barely have to name it, always. As common as dirt and twice as filthy.
"We Gethed ourselves, with military mechs, without even getting to the next star-cluster first. That's just sad. Pisses me off."
It was enough to make you want to punch something. Someone. The Horizon shifts again, like an uneasy cat, and Shepard has to exert real effort into not simply stalking over to the gun-rack in search of a less appropriate way to vent her agitation. Shepard folds her arms again instead; control yourself, breathe, you are better than this. You are.
"So business as usual," If you're hearing anger in her voice, it's because she's angry. It's not even her world, but then... since when did it have to be? Shepard didn't have to live somewhere to despise the waste of it all, "How'd this finally circle back around to you, and your kind of people? You don't strike me as the kind of person who goes on ice and lets the chips lay where they fall, and nobody survived that kind of apocalypse, not for long."