Shepard shrugs at Ray's back, but she's smiling. "Okay, frontal assault it is," she says, though Ray's probably too busy loudly shooting fundamental particle death at nightmare angels to hear her.

She throws up a biotic barrier, more from force of habit than need, and follows him out of cover, putting a shot dead center of one of the Spoken that looks like it's getting bright ideas about charging. Eh, probably her imagination. The explosive round goes off, blowing her target to inky black shrapnel. Thanks for the idea, America.

"Not a lot of people are less subtle than I am, Doc," says the woman loading explosive rounds and glowing blue-white.