IMPORTANT UPDATE - March 17, 2020: To whom it may concern. I'm FREE guys! I'm finally, finally free! No more living with emotional abuse for me. I got out, I got away, and now I can get better. I can get real help, and I can heal. And then, I can get back to writing. I've been gone a long time. The world is different now than it was when I went on hiatus, and so am I. Now, I can't speak for the world, but I know I've changed for the better, and I want to thank all of you crazy readers who stuck with me for your support. It meant more than I can say without getting all teary-eyed. Seriously, I'm coming back. It will still be rough for a while, and I don't know if I can ever promise the weekly updates I pumped out back when I was writing the first Supernovas installment, but I'll do my best not to drop off the grid for years either. So, this is me saying: 'See you soon.' Until then, Blindluck92, out.
Happy New Year everyone! Welcome back to the Supernovas' Mass Effect Job! This... is One Way Flight
First though, a few announcements:
I'd like to encourage any newcomers to read my first story BEFORE THIS ONE! If you don't, then you'll have absolutely no idea what's going on. You have been warned
Also, this is the prologue for a Mass Effect 2 story. As such, it is full of my own personal canon. Starting with the next chapter, I even take a flying leap away from canon because there are four main protagonists, and I assure you they all aren't about to die. Make of that what you will, but understand that I've had this planned for quite a while.
Next, I would like to inform everyone ahead of time that I'll be using weapons and powers from both Mass Effect 2 and 3 in this story. They are awesome, and I'm not waiting until the third installment to make full use of the really cool toys. Besides, the mercs and other bad guys would need some of those abilities to stand a chance against Supernovas, don't you think?
Finally, you may have noticed that there were a handful of actual plot moments altered in the first installment. (Spoilers ahead for prior story!) A few of the largest include Elysium, Akuze, Torfan, the Battle of the Citadel, the survival of Jenkins and Fai Dan, the appearance of Tela Vasir during the mutiny segment, and the "we choose both" solution to Balak's attack on Terra Nova. Regarding that last one, you'll remember I inserted the beginnings of a batarian insurrection subplot with the help of Fanfiction author Jyggalag. The cause of these non-canon changes will become a plot point in its own right, but you'll have to trust me. I say that a lot, but only because this story is like an asari tactician's mind: the payoff requires patience. Not every chapter is going to be crash, boom, bang, Alex Mercer. And I actually think that's a good thing. Anyway, I'm rambling at this point. The fact remains that I have a plan, and I would greatly appreciate the benefit of the doubt.
I think that covers everything for now, so welcome back, sit back… Read, Review, and Enjoy!
Summary: Two months post-Battle and the galaxy's still a mess. In some ways, it actually might have gotten worse…
Spoilers: Big for Mass Effect series, Bioshock series, inFAMOUS series, Prototype, and Halo series. Those are always a given, so I'll never include them again on this alert. The "real spoilers" are Bioshock Infinite, SWTOR, Fallout, KotOR I and the KotOR II.
Disclaimer: I sent Santa a letter, asking for the copyrights to everything found in this story. I got a lump of coal instead. Aside from said lump of coal, I own nothing.
Burial in Space
Station of Nostalgia
Unique Shepard looked on, displaying little to no emotion. Even Revan and Kessler were impressed by the stoic facade. This was the day. The day the Commander had died.
And now one of the Supernovas walking Shepard's path would likely follow it all the way to the grave.
One Month after the Battle of the Citadel
When the SSV Normandy dropped out of FTL and found a vast expanse of nothing, the groans and sighs of frustration were almost audible in the void of space. Still, like professionals (mostly), they did their jobs with practiced coordination.
"Disengaging FTL drives," Joker reported. "IES active." He made a last check across all consoles and found everything satisfactory. "Board is green, people. We are running silent."
"Speaking of which," Alex whispered to Doctor Chakwas while passing her a datapad, "take a look here." Chakwas read a few lines of medical diagnostics and formulae before placing a hand over her mouth in shock. When she looked to the viral sociopath for confirmation, he nodded. "Next shore leave, Joker can have this treatment. It won't give him the bones of a normal human, but it's a step in the right direction. He'd walk unaided and with much less fear of breaking anything. I told you I could do it."
While Chakwas immediately grilled Alex for any possible ethical infringements of this procedure, the helm was still buzzing with noise. Pressly was the most vocal in his complaints.
"We're wasting our time," the XO scoffed. "Four days searching up and down this sector and we haven't found any sign of geth activity. Probably why MacGrath and the Master Chief aren't joining us on any more patrols like this one."
It was true. Cole MacGrath and the Master Chief had parted ways with the Normandy after the last excursion, stating that the Alliance didn't need to waste all four of its best men on simple reconnaissance. They put their skills to work elsewhere instead. Cole was using his electromagnetic talents to assist in cleaning up the mess on the Citadel. With his radar pulse, he was also a natural at locating any scavengers looking to score reaper tech for quick credits. He could even read the neuroelectric signals of the keepers and better anticipate how to work in tandem with the insectoid aliens rather than "getting in their way" like most engineers. The best part was that he saw Garrus on occasion, the sniper having rejoined C-Sec as planned. The turian's right mandible was still wrapped in bandages from their vicious battle with Saren's husk, but he refused Cole's offer to speed up the healing. That aside, he often frequented the Wards' hospitals, providing his special brand of first aid any in need. After Ilos, Conduit Earth was restored and even repopulated with conduits, but the guilt that came from wiping them out in the first place wouldn't wash away overnight. Col still felt compelled to do good whenever possible, no matter how small it was in the grand scheme of things.
The Master Chief, on the other hand, was sent off to the illustrious Pinnacle Station. While the Spartan's armor and skill was untouchable, his methods were not. Compared to the hyper-lethal vector, even the turians looked like mere children playing at war. It would take only a few runs through the combat simulations for the Chief (and Cortana) to locate and improve every tactical flaw. The resulting overhaul to the training drills would in turn be enough of a challenge to overhaul the special forces of all Council races. They were learning from him. After seeing the hardlight shield and active camo in use, N7 had developed omni-shields and an entire branch program dedicated to mixing stealth and melee combat. The turians had given another look at their Armiger Legion, and soon they realized that with some adjustments, their thrusters could turn a simple soldier into a battering ram. The Chief's simulated battles also served as a morale boost in the wake of the geth attack when his combat runs were shown to the troops, something Hackett and Anderson both argued was more important than sitting in "cold storage" on the Normandy.
They had dropped the Chief off at Pinnacle roughly five days ago. The day after that, a bleeding-edge stealth ship turned into an incredibly boring post. And as Pressly had graciously reminded them all, nothing had changed in the four days since.
Joker rolled his eyes before focusing on his screens again. "Three ships went missing here in the past month. Something happened to them."
That was why Alex had stayed. Not only was he working on Joker's treatment, the virus was itching for a fight, and this was probably his best (and most legal) bet. That, and when Liara had decided to remain aboard the Normandy as a fulltime passenger, Alex felt strangely compelled to do the same.
Jack "Rapture" Ryan still served as the commanding officer, ensuring that a "human" Spectre was the one in charge of the Alliance's most advanced warship. Splicer King and Blacklight Virus had reached an uneasy truce after the departure of more ethical and neutral parties: for the sake of the job, Alex wouldn't subject Ryan to grievous bodily harm. For the sake of Cole, Ryan would let morality weigh more heavily into his decisions in the conduit's absence. The Son of Rapture was currently in the CO quarters, drafting yet another set of messages to the Council, Arcturus brass, and even the Alliance Parliament that would get the Normandy and her crew back on the task of preparing for the Reapers. Even in the wake of Sovereign's attack, nobody was truly willing to accept that a legion of sentient starships was coming to light the galaxy on fire. It was an uphill battle to gain support, to say nothing about ensuring the whole ordeal wasn't swept under the rug by idiotic politicians.
Back on the bridge, Pressly and Joker were still going back and forth. "My money's on slavers this time Moreau, not geth." The navigator folded his arms. "The Terminus Systems are crawling with them."
Even as he took the stairs down to the crew deck, Alex overheard their discussion. He couldn't entirely disagree. The Terminus Systems wasn't just a haven for scum and villainy. It was also a place where the Supernovas' exploits were considered exaggeration at best and baseless Alliance propaganda at worst. Sure, that gave them the element of surprise, but it also meant their names carried less weight. Even if they could rely on fearsome reputation, Terminus denizens were called the "lawless of the galaxy" for a good reason. Illegal shit wasn't just the norm. It was the damn economy. Genetic engineering, cybernetics, unsanctioned weapon mods, and that was the boring stuff. Long story short, the bad guys out here made the ones back in the Traverse look like girl scouts.
As the doors closed behind Alex, leaving the virus to his thoughts, Pressly and Joker were still going at it. Suddenly, a newbie ensign interrupted them. "Picking up something on the long range scanner." She keyed it in for the rest of the CIC to look at as well. "Unidentified vessel. Looks like a cruiser."
Joker frowned as he quickly processed everything from the readouts. "Doesn't match any known signatures…"
As the Normandy continued along its plotted course, the crew kept a watch on the new arrival. Far from going along its merry way, the mysterious ship actually moved towards the much smaller Alliance frigate.
With more than a little anxiety in her voice, the ensign gave Joker and Pressly an update. "Cruiser is changing course. Now on intercept trajectory."
As Joker looked closer at the scans. Pressly shook his head and turned away from his own console. "Can't be. Stealth systems are engaged, there's no way the geth could-"
"It's not the geth," Joker declared ominously. His hands flew across the holoscreens and he yelled, "Brace for evasive maneuvers!"
By then it was too late. The massive pursuer began to glow yellow near the front of the bow. Seconds later, a focused-radiation beam shot through the void. Joker's skill protected the nimble Normandy for a moment, but that was all. Soon the yellow laser sliced into the frigate's left flank, cutting through like butter and blowing out countless systems.
One of those systems was tragically linked to Pressly's terminal. Belching fire and lightning in the aging man's face, the XO never stood a chance. Pressly screamed in surprise and pain before crumpling to the deck, a pitiful end for a proud Alliance officer.
"Pressly!" the ensign shrieked upon hearing him fall. She turned to aid the navigator, only to meet the same end when her own console exploded next.
Joker put his moniker aside, all business even with two friends lying dead behind him and who knew how many more throughout the ship. "Kinetic barriers down," he announced. "Multiple hull breaches! Weapons offline!" Turning away from his station, he pointed at the inferno now sweeping the deck. "Somebody get that fire out!"
The monstrous cruiser was just getting started though. Charging its main gun again, it fired a second time, breaching the right side of the ship. Another shot blew the top of the hull off, leaving a thin emergency barrier between the CIC and the all-consuming void. One last beam hit the Normandy in the aft section before the gargantuan aggressor passed by. The infamous SSV Normandy was now a smoldering ruin in space, failing fast and utterly helpless.
The wrecked ship was covered in fire, debris, and dead bodies. Alex avoided it all completely by running full-pelt along the ceiling. Back in New York, people in his way were usually pulverized if the virus was in a hurry. He was desperate to find Liara, but accidentally killing Alliance personnel in the process was simply a bad idea. Smashing a hole into Doctor Chakwas' abandoned med bay, Alex saw that her door's hydraulics were jammed. "Blue! I'm coming in!"
He'd just reared back to smash open the door when a voice came from inside. "No need."
The virus was tossed back as dark energy ripped the door out off the wall, revealing one Liara T'Soni dressed in white armor, blue biotic sparks dancing over her form. As if nothing was out of the ordinary, the sociopath's "better half" snapped her breather helmet shut. Rising to his feet, Alex asked, "If you could do that from the beginning, why wait until I show up?"
The asari was already on the move as she responded. "I was in a lab coat when the explosions started. I had to get properly dressed."
As Alex jogged alongside her, he chuckled morbidly. "I wonder who the genius was that convinced you to keep a set of armor in your quarters for emergencies?" As if to stroke his own ego and further emphasize the point, the ex-narcissist shifted into his armored form.
"Is now really the best time?" another woman's voice echoed from across the burning hallway. Both scientists looked to the source of the voice and were greatly relieved by what they saw. The one and only Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was currently wielding a fire extinguisher with the same proficiency as a rifle, beating back the flames that threatened to overwhelm them. Behind her, "Commander" Ryan was activating the distress beacon, a thick sheen of ice covering him from head to toe.
"Ready for launch," the Splicer King announced. He spun around and raised both hands, palms facing forward. Twin torrents of Winter Blast put the fire extinguisher to shame, giving his ravaged ship a deep freeze. "I don't know who or what just blew up my ship, but there's gonna be hell to pay!"
Ashley tossed aside her now obsolete extinguisher. "Well we've got a path to the escape shuttles now."
"Wait!" Liara shouted. "Joker is still in the cockpit. He has refused to abandon ship."
The resident sociopath shook his head. "Well this sucks." He didn't mean it lightly. At this point, even if the pilot was willing to leave, he'd need assistance just to get out of his chair. Plus the ship was such a mess between fire, debris, and erratic explosions, getting to the helm would be an ordeal in its own right. Alex could effortlessly make his way there, but what then? The virus would more likely pulverize Joker by mistake in the process of rescuing him. Ryan also couldn't hope to simply teleport a man with Vrolik's Syndrome to the escape shuttles. Where healthy individuals could safely shatter out of existence with the Splicer King, Joker and his glass bones would just plain shatter. That kind of damage would not reverse itself when they rematerialized.
And the Supernovas had a feeling that their attacker knew all of this. Whoever ambushed the Normandy had certainly done their homework. They somehow knew a frightening number of details about the ship and those serving on her. Sharing a glance, the deadly duo reached a silent agreement. quickly with a glance. "Ash, Liara," Ryan ordered. "You two help evacuate the rest of the ship."
Alex nodded. "We'll handle Joker."
Neither of the women liked this idea, and Ashley was about to emphasize this when-
Whatever she'd been about to say was drowned out by more explosions. To avoid a plume of fire, the marine and the maiden were forced to leap away, putting both out of sight. Now with now choice, they sprang to their feet and ran to the escape shuttles. Ryan swore loudly and began spraying more Winter Blast at the inferno, for all the good it would do. Alex just laughed. "While you play fireman, I'll clear us a path." Tossing aside the burning debris that had piled in front of the door to the CIC, he made a grandiose "after you" gesture to the Splicer King. "Let's go save our crippled flyboy's ass."
Station of Nostalgia
"The time has come," Shepard announced, voice quiet and utterly devoid of emotion. "The time has come."
Meetra Surik, the Jedi Exile, stood at the Unique's side. The walking Wound in the Force knew more than most how painful the life – and death – of "The Shepard" truly was. "Some things just can't be changed, Commander. Constants and variables, as Elizabeth says."
Behind them, a deep growling echoed in agreement. Subject Delta was familiar with dying. Twice in fact. The Big Daddy often refrained from observing, but this job warranted his attention for personal reasons.
Surik nodded. "Shepard was alone in death, Delta. Even when one dies, three more Supernovas will carry the torch without pause."
Delta growled again, and the Exile chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Such a loss just might push them even harder."
There was no more discussion. They watched in silent vigil as the inevitable transpired.
SSV Normandy Ambush
Underneath the letters for the word "Normandy" along the hull, a hatch opened up and escape shuttles packed with any and all survivors shot out into a degenerating orbit around Alchera. Ryan and an armored Alex Mercer could see this through the gaping hole of what used to be the CIC. They each gave a silent due to the dead before marching forward to the helm, where Joker's station just barely remained intact, separated from the rest of the deck by a thin mass effect field.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday!" the pilot broadcasted futilely over the comm. "This is the SSV Normandy. We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy. Come on, baby! Hold together. Hold together!"
If Ryan hadn't tapped Joker on the shoulder, he doubted the helmsman would have even noticed their arrival. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was my ship, but they were your wings."
"What do you know?" Joker screamed in a fit of despair. "This isn't 'your' ship at all, remember?"
Ryan took the low blow in stride. He probably deserved it. "I know that you'll definitely never fly again if we don't leave now."
Joker shut his eyes tight and clenched his teeth. "A little help getting up?" he asked in surrender.
"Yeah, I got you," the Splicer King responded, carefully helping Joker to his feet. He placed one of the pilot's fragile arms gently over his shoulder and made for the special escape shuttle on the CIC deck. "Come on Alex. We're getting the fuck out of here." No response. "Alex?"
Joker turned to see what the sociopath was doing, and instantly he paled. "Oh shit!"
Alex Mercer was simply standing near the bulkhead, looking up. Obviously, he wasn't enjoying the view. He was staring directly at the mysterious cruiser as it came around for another attack. Something about it was hauntingly familiar, and since he'd never seen it before in his life, he blamed that damn beacon and the vision it jammed inside his head. While Alex should have been running to safety like everyone else, he couldn't bring himself to move. He stood there, sifting through the Web of Intrigue for anything remotely like the ship currently bearing down on them. The predator was drawing a blank, and it was pissing him off. Switching to the Prothean vision he'd gained from the cipher, he tried again.
This was a massive mistake. Alex fell to the ground, skull pounding with horrendous pain as the trauma of a nonexistent flashback shook him to the core. Whatever that ship was, the Protheans definitely knew what it was. Had those bastards counted on this too? Had the people about to kill them planned in advance to capitalize on Alex's greatest weakness? He couldn't even properly form these thoughts as wave after wave of agony kept him in a fetal position.
And that's when it's main gun started to light up again. Another beam sliced right into the CIC, mere inches from where Alex was standing. He was slowly recovering as it cut apart the already devastated hull, but there was no chance he'd make it in time.
By this point, Ryan had secured Joker inside the escape shuttle, and he faced Alex again. The Splicer King paled in horror. "Alex!" he screamed, teleporting out behind the virus and using a sonic boom plasmid to launch him into the escape shuttle.
The rescue quickly became a sacrifice.
The Normandy snapped along its spine, and the mass effect field broke. It was too soon after the first teleport for Ryan to make a return trip to the shuttle, and the Splicer King was predictably spaced. Alex fought through the pain to save his friend. He shifted to whipfist, using his free arm and both feet to anchor himself to the inside of the pod. Lashing out with the prehensile limb, he barely caught the freefalling Splicer King by the leg and slowly attempted to reel him back in. If Alex didn't feel like a bomb went off in his head, the process might have been easier.
"Come on you son of a bitch!" the virus yelled, head still swimming. "Teleport! I know you've recharged by now!" While Ryan finally had cooled down for another jump through time and space, Alex realized why he hadn't done so with a single glance. "Oh fucking hell," the virus whispered. "What have I done?"
At least seven different fragments of the ship, both metal and ceramic, had been embedded throughout Ryan's body. The explosions that coincided with Ryan getting spaced had knocked the massive shrapnel loose. When Alex used his whipfist to anchor the Splicer King, all he'd done was put the man in just the right spot to be horribly impaled and lacerated. If Ryan teleported in his current state, it was just as much a death sentence as going down with the ship. "No, come on," the sociopath growled, renewing his efforts to tug his brutalized friend back into the escape shuttle.
Born at the bottom of the ocean, Ryan had a better lung capacity than most Navy Seals. That still didn't matter when his helmet was busted. Wrenching it off, he looked straight at his viral ally and smiled with dissonant serenity. It was not lost on Alex that the Splicer King's eyes were a sickly green. "Ryan!" he hollered. "I know that look on Cole's face, and I sure as shit don't need it from you!"
Ryan looked up to the massive cruiser as it moved in for the kill. Knowing there was only one way for any of them to make it out alive, he gathered another Electro Bolt in his hand…
"Don't do it!"
And blasted the controls for the shuttle. The airlock slammed shut, slicing Alex's whipfist off and blasting both virus and pilot to safety. A fate he wouldn't be sharing.
Beam after yellow beam cut through the Normandy's remains like a thresher through wheat. One of them carved the drive core in two, and the dark void of space became as bright as the dawn.
The loss of his arm - and Ryan - sent Alex flying backwards inside the pod. Immediately he was running at the sealed airlock and resisting the urge to smash it open. "NO! Damn you! The one time you had to be fucking selfless, you went got yourself killed!" He sank to the floor as a new arm grew. "Bastard," he whispered in a hollow voice.
The great thing about plasmid-based fire was that it didn't need oxygen to work. Snapping his fingers in the void, Ryan burnt away the whipfist segment still attached to him. He was seconds from losing consciousness when his eyes changed even further, now a bright yellow. "No!" he mentally screamed. "If I'm gonna die here, I sure as hell ain't doing it as Raptor."
The Rapture Raptor persona, no matter what it claimed, was not interested in keeping Ryan safe. Self preservation kicked in, and ice began leaking through every cell of his body, for all the good it would do. Ryan shut his eyes tight, not even caring what color they were anymore. "The Splicer King is dead," he thought as anoxia and extravehicular reentry finally claimed his life. "Long live the Splicer King!"
Cole was halfway into lifting a piece of Reaper debris with his kinetic pulse when pain lanced up his spine. It broke his concentration, and the alien metal fell, startling several people nearby. He was about to apologize when he felt below his nose. Reaching up, his fingers came away slick with blood.
"You know," a flanging voice drawled, "that only seems to happen when something bad happens involving Ryan." Garrus walked up and placed a hand on Cole's shoulder. When the Electro-Spectre turned to face him, the turian flared his mandibles, stepping back in surprise. "Spirits Cole, you look like hell. What's going on this time?"
The Prime Conduit sighed. "You might want to sit down for this."
One after another, VI simulated mercenaries dropped like flies, swatted by none other than Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy Spartan John-117. Guns and a combat knife certainly helped, but they were only tools. The weapon was the Master Chief himself. A holographic krogan charged him, perfectly mimicking a real-life blood rage. The Spartan clotheslined it with little effort before shattering its neck with an elbow drop.
"Outstanding, soldier!" Ahern bellowed. He meant it too. The Chief had greatly impressed a man that many decreed impossible to please. "The rest of you could learn from this man. I do not care that his armor is superior. I care that he thinks outside the box, executes flawlessly, and consistently wins every damn battle."
Ahern's ranting continued, but before the Chief could listen further, Cortana practically leapt onto his HUD. "John!"
She never called him that unless it was serious. As in "worse than galactic extinction" serious. "What is it?"
"The subroutines I placed to remotely keep tabs on the Normandy's activities just went dark." She saw the confusion in the Chief's eye movement and elaborated. "Those subroutines were kept online by the ship's drive core. The only way they could be taken out like that was if the core stopped working, along with the rest of the ship proper." Cortana watched as understanding sank in for her Spartan. "The Normandy is gone, Chief!"
For a moment, the Master Chief said nothing. He just stood there, tense with incomprehensible rage. Finally, he looked back to his smart AI charge. "What did this?"
His tone was clear as day: blood would spill.
Alex didn't know he was physically capable of crying until now. There weren't many people he could call a friend, even after joining the Supernovas. Cole and Ryan had their issues, but before Columbia, Alex was actually on pretty good terms with the Son of Rapture. He was an asshole, but he was one of them. What's more they were kindred spirits. Monsters playing the role of heroes. It was something they bonded over after Malachor. "Born in the sea, buried in space," the virus declared. "That's your fucking eulogy."
Suddenly the comm. buzzed to life as Ashley's voice came through. "This is Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, can anyone read me?"
"Solid copy Ash," Alex muttered.
Joker made a coughing noise before also responding. "We read you, Williams. Over."
There was a brief silence on the other end, likely Ashley waiting to hear Ryan's voice. "Where's the third stooge?" she asked, anxiety creeping into her speech.
Neither of the men said anything.
"Joker? Alex? Where's the Commander? Where's Ryan? Someone answer me dammit!"
Joker closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the safety harness. He just couldn't form the words. Those freaks always came across as invincible. Even after witnessing it firsthand, it just didn't seem possible for a Supernova to die. "He- he saved us," the pilot choked out.
"No," Ashley gasped. From the sound of her voice, the marine didn't want to believe it either. "You're telling me he's…?"
"Jack 'Rapture' Ryan," Alex whispered hoarsely, "is missing in action."
They all knew what that expression meant. The Chief had told them.
And for a few days after the ambush, the Alliance actually did list Ryan as MIA. It wasn't long before they gave up hope. His status was officially changed to "killed in action" within a week.
That was when things really went to hell.
Yes, I'm actually cruel enough to end this here. It'll be worth the wait.
Speaking of waiting, I hope this can hold you over until my next post. I'm not sure when that will be. The time of regular updates is long gone. It depends solely on what my real life schedule allows.
If this chapter wasn't your cup of tea, don't worry. It honestly will get better. I've called some of my chapters "necessary evils" in the past, but this one takes the cake. I hope you will all stay with me for the rest, because the fun has literally just begun.
That's all for now I guess. No bonus right off the bat. Expect action in the next chapter though. Until then, well, you know the drill.
Read, Review, and Enjoy!
IMPORTANT UPDATE - May 25, 2019: To whom it may concern. In my last major Supernovas update, I said I would return when things were better. In the years since then, things have only become worse. So, so much worse. The end is in sight, however. I can see the proverbial light at the end of a years-long tunnel, and then I can finally begin to heal. Heal, and eventually, go back to writing my stories here on this site. I've made you all wait, and I'm sorry that I'll have to make you wait a little more. So... yeah. I'll see you guys when I'm back for real. Until then, Blindluck92 out.