Whatever Shepard had been expecting...it wasn't World War II. She gives herself a moment to sigh while she evaluates the field of fire of the machine guns, trying to remember the average muzzle velocity of weapons of the period, if she ever even knew it. Definitely not relativistic. Low supersonic, probably? But high enough to actually trigger her shields?
Eh, fuck it. There's more than one way to storm a castle (seriously?), at least when you have vastly superior weapons. She's not even trying to win the battle, just cross the field to follow the guy on the bike.
Shepard pulls her sniper rifle from her back and goes prone behind a slight rise, leveling the weapon at the nearest machine gun emplacement. The gunner is a distraction, and she instead aims for the weapon itself. The barrel of gun shatters in a most satisfactory manner when her own mass accelerator round hits it, to a string of German curses the translation software in her omni-tool thoughtfully renders into English for her.
"Heh."
Wait. She doesn't actually have an omni-tool right now. She just thinks she does, so how--
no subject
Eh, fuck it. There's more than one way to storm a castle (seriously?), at least when you have vastly superior weapons. She's not even trying to win the battle, just cross the field to follow the guy on the bike.
Shepard pulls her sniper rifle from her back and goes prone behind a slight rise, leveling the weapon at the nearest machine gun emplacement. The gunner is a distraction, and she instead aims for the weapon itself. The barrel of gun shatters in a most satisfactory manner when her own mass accelerator round hits it, to a string of German curses the translation software in her omni-tool thoughtfully renders into English for her.
"Heh."
Wait. She doesn't actually have an omni-tool right now. She just thinks she does, so how--
--Dammit, she hates telepathy.