Victorious (Drabbles).

Reapers.

I do not own Victorious or the game used here.

The shock wave ploughs through the Sol relay, frying everything even remotely electronic. A bright orange flash moves through our world. Our new world. The world we'd built when we crossed those heavy metal transporters for the first time, not sure what we'd find. The world we'd struggled for through politics, wars and treaties. The world we created, the new world.

If anything we were proud, excited, scared. Constantly so scared of the races, the new species we'd met. Some stronger, some faster, some more intelligent than we were, but it was worth it.

Quite a befitting end for the human race, to finally find out we were not alone. Not the only intelligent beings, for some of us to fulfill the dream of seeing aliens for the first time.

Hell, we'd done it all. Robots that were so close to human, humans that were so close to robots. Myself being one. Ha!

Extinction comes for all, that's why I'm here. That's why they came.

Reapers.

Tore through our world, like the prophecy had said. Maybe the Protheans were our ancestors. Our predecessors who we were doomed to follow.

Maybe the end was going to come no matter what we did.

Maybe it was all pointless.

I guess that would mean the illusive man was right.

Now look at me, floating in the debris of what's left of our so called trump card. So many died so it could be built. Only for it to wipe out what survived.

I guess that's what unquantifiable destruction is. We asked for it.

No. We built it.

Hats off to our great predecessors for leaving us the easy way out.

One click suicide.

Commander, they called me.

Commander.

Commander Harris.

"Harris!" a fist slamming the console brings the commander back to reality.

"We were asking if you're ready" Lieutenant Vega repeats herself, her concern for her superior and friend showing on her tan features.

He's not in space, waiting to die. The war isn't over, not yet. Its end is still a mystery, but for now he's not floating among debris, he's surrounded by his inter-species crew on the HA Normady.

Looking around, he finds his team watching him with concern, well most of them anyway. A certain Krogan couldn't care less, at least it looks that way.

He smiles to himself, pulling back his dreadlocks and looking around again.

If he's to die in a fight, he couldn't have picked a better team. All five of them.

So, the daydream begs the question.

All this.

Was it pointless?

Is it pointless?

Mass Effect 3.

AN:Is unquantifiable an actual word?

Need to know.