It's Jack, bitch.

Funny how many idiots seem to think that a war ends the moment the enemy surrenders. Well, it’s been more than a month since the Reapers were deep-fried, and boy have those sheltered bastards been proven wrong.

We’re still not finished clearing the rubble out of the major cities. Body counts are steadily climbing, and the number of missing are still in the seven-digits. Civilian volunteers are getting tired and making mistakes. And with a lot of the building structures weakened, one little misstep could undo days of labor.

Me and the kids have been working our asses off. Turns out a squad of Grissom-trained biotics is really fucking handy at heavy lifting. We turn up a handful of corpses everyday, but it’s been more than a week since we’ve seen any survivors.

This whole lump of rock is drenched in the stink of death. Those two million missing? Yeah, they’re about as good as fucked. But try telling that to the little girl waiting for her parents to take her home.

A few of the kids - the Earthborns - took off to help their hometowns. Another handful went back to their families. There are five of us left, holed up in an old office building in London. They have nowhere else to go, no family to go back to, and, well, I guess I’m it for now.

Weird seeing them look at me the same way most of the suicide squad looked at Shepard. Crazy… and sobering. But damned if I don’t kinda like it.

And to think, less than a year ago, the biggest thing I was worried about was one-upping the Cheerleader. Scuttlebutt has it that she helped the Girl-Scout take down Cerberus. Whatever. She’s still a pompous bitch. But I wish I could have been there.

Might send Shepard a message. I’d take a running swan-dive into a herd of stampeding elcor before saying it out loud, but I kinda miss her righteous ass.