1.1 The OG Crew

Commander Steven Shepard sat at his private terminal, in a cush black leather seat, at a polished jet black table. The walls were decorated with carbon-crystal glass cases and shelves. To his left, the entire wall was one giant fish tank, bubbling industriously on its own. His combat boots were up on the table and he was reclining in the black N7 hoodie Liara had made for him. That was before he had gotten himself wasted. And not the alcohol kind. The ghosted kind.

After Shepard had cut the geth off from the reapers, the geth invasion disintegrated, though not without its cost on the citadel. The Alliance had paraded him and his crew around for a bit. Everyone look and see the brave commander, leader of the infamous N7 Bravo Team, Champion of the Skyllian Blitz, Hero of the Citadel. That was all nice and well, while it served that rat bastard, Udina. Rocking back with an unlit cigar chomped in his unshaven jaw, Shepard shook his head in remembrance. He had made Anderson councilor instead. When it came to pushing the council on giving up resources to help figure the reaper situation out, Udina backslid bigtime, and Anderson found his hands tied in the end. That left them out on their own scouting for geth attacks, all because fringe colonies had been reporting disappearances that the Alliance had ignored. Off to the rescue and into the jaws of death.

They had been ambushed by an unidentified vessel. The Normandy's stealth drives did nothing to hide it and the aggressing craft's lasers cut the SR-1 to shreds. Fortunately, all of the team and most of the crew had made it out. Navigator Pressly was one who hadn't. Neither was Shepard.

But unlike anyone else that met their maker that day, Shepard was found by Cerberus. How that was possible…? Looking at his screen again, he might have an answer.

… Steven

… If it's you, if my intel is correct and with my data they found you….

…I have to be sure it's really you. They will have given you their dossiers by now. Find Archangel. Then find me on Illium… L

Some of his original crew called him Steve sometimes. Nobody called him Steven. Nobody - except Liara. But could his beautiful blue princess be so crafty as to find him this way? When they had first met, when he had stumbled upon her caught in a suspension field, she had been a young naïve scientist, eager to learn human culture. A bit heavy on the prothean obsession, but goddamn if she wasn't so blue and curvy and soft. She wasn't just sharp as a whip, either. No, she had that other kind of sense – the asari kind. Blue magic, he called it. She could feel things. She had made him feel things. The good kind. He grinned.

No time to think about that now. He rocked forward, clamped his hand down on his Vindicator assault rifle and flicked off his terminal. He had shit to do.

Down in the cockpit, which now seemed part of the bridge, Joker slid his fingers across the right quadrant of the haptic interface and with his left, adjusted a few dials.

"Chatter on the radio," the pilot chirped. "Looks like gang communications buzzing around Omega Station."

Shepard still had his cigar chomped in his jaw. "What do you think that's about?"

Joker shrugged, finishing his adjustments and swiveling in his chair – his shiny new chair which he was seemingly now accustomed to. "I don't know, but they're communicating with each other instead of about each other. I'm guessing they aren't normally this chatty. Must be something at the station that's got them all excited." Joker grinned, his wry green eyes sparkling with amused patience.

"What?" Shepard asked slowly.

"Did you get your routine physical down in med-bay?"

The moment Shepard groaned, Joker exploded into laughter.

"I should've known," the commander muttered. "Doctor Chakwas… what are the odds?"

"Was it thorough? The physical? I bet it was thorough."

"The med-bay smells like brandy," Shepard commented.

"Awww," Joker made a cute face, "She got all liquored up just for you."

"Remind me not to get another bottle of iced brandy when she asks."

Joker grinned, "Nahhh, I'd like to see where this goes."

---

2. An Old Friend

Normandy SR-2, Weapons Battery

Shepard found Garrus in his usual spot, this time hunched over his Viper class sniper rifle parts. He was meticulously inspecting the long barrel, his new omni-visor scanning for minor flaws.

"You haven't even healed yet and you're already calibrating shit."

Garrus grunted with laughter, hoarse and painful sounding. "Damn it, Shepard. Don't make me laugh." He turned. Although he had now donned the new and cyber-improved Cerberus armor, fashioned for a paratrooper sniper, his face bore the ugly burn-scars of the last battle, shiny and raw.

"That bad, eh?" the turian remarked, talking slowly and setting down the barrel.

"Hell Garrus, I don't think anyone will notice."

The turian struggled to contain a laugh. "Are you saying that my adoring fans will be too blinded by my hyped reputation to notice?"

Shepard clapped him on the shoulder-plate, "Garrus, buddy," his sky-blue eyes narrowing, "There is hope for you yet."

Garrus hmphed and leaned against the guardrail overlooking the gun batteries. "How did you find me so quickly? I meant to ask you that before a gunship emptied nine yards of polonium in my general direction."

Shepard slumped over the rail, his navy camo armor suddenly feeling bulky. His eyes followed the turian's gaze to the battery array stretching away below them. "I miss the SR-1, Garrus. When we lost Kaidan, I swore I wouldn't lose another squadmate. Then I lost the entire goddamn ship."

"To be fair," Garrus corrected, "We were ambushed - by an unidentified spacecraft with vastly superior armament, firepower and radar detection."

"Yeah," Shepard scratched his unshaven chin. "I never saw it coming. When I had Saren to follow…" He shook his head. "I don't know."

"You had a target," the turian said knowingly. "You had that singular focus that got you your spectre status. That focus led us to find and free Liara, to stop Benezia from unleashing a rachnii force on Noveria and undid the mind control of the thorian on Feros. Tracking Saren led us all the way to Ilos and then back to the Citadel. Then we killed him. Twice."

"First time was him." Shepard recalled. "I mean the real him. I think he knew he was lost. I saw it in his eyes. But he wanted that final battle proper - one last good fight. To go down shooting…"

"I put a slug in his shoulder before you finished the job," Garrus reminded.

"I remember. But then he got up. The reaper tech was too strong. Whatever it made him into, he wasn't like those husks. He was something else. Something much worse. It took the three of us and it was still tough as shit to put him down. He hit Liara hard…"

Garrus nodded. "She was trying to protect you after the walkway collapsed underneath you. His reaper tech was surging at that point. If she hadn't put up that barrier in time," the turian pointed to his mangled jaw, "Your whole face would look like this."

"Yeah?" Shepard mused.

"Oh definitely," Garrus assured, "Liara would've had to break up with you immediately, being hideous as you'd have no doubt been. The rest of the crew would hide their faces when you walked by in horror – it would be a great tragedy."

"Geezez, Garrus," Shepard laughed.

"Too much?"

"I think Liara might have messaged me about you," Shepard exhaled. "I had a cryptic message without much context, but it referenced the dossiers and finding Archangel first."

"I haven't seen Liara since the day you died. I don't know how she would know anything about me. It seems unlikely. Besides, I went underground not long after I got to Omega."

"I almost forgot," Shepard looked at him, "Archangel and his team of crime-fighters."

Garrus snorted, painfully. "You're looking for a new target right now. Cerberus can help you find it, but I know you don't trust them."

"Hell no," Shepard laughed. "The Illusive Man's just like every other self-important big wig I've had to deal with. Cerberus, alliance, the council – it's all the same bullshit. I just need a target."

"You've got this ship, which the SR-2 crew seems to think was a collector ship, out there still," Garrus walked back over to his rifle parts and began assembling them neatly. "It's hunting us, or it was. Now it seems to be hunting human colonies. That's as good a target as ever, eh?"

"I guess," Shepard shrugged. "I don't like flying around recruiting just because we don't know where to go."

"You said Miranda would let you know when Cerberus had intel on a possible attack site, so… Let the tech nerds do their homework assignment. You want me to heal fully, fine. Once you get this doctor on board, I'm on the next field team."

"Yeah, you got it," Shepard turned and strode away, "Time to visit the Cerberus queen's office…"

---

1-3. War stories

Aria's Suite, Club Afterlife, Omega

Aria reclined leisurely on her black leather couch. The deep bass of the pulsing beats outside reverberated in the walls. The asari watched with mild amusement as her bodyguards clustered around Shepard, bombarding him with questions.

The batarian Garka was asking, "Let me get this straight, you went in pretending to mercs… in order to kill Archangel. Then you joined Archangel, who turned out to be one of your old crew and then you killed all three gangs on Omega?"

"That about sums it up," Shepard looked past the batarian and turian guards, down the steps. Miranda and Jacob were now updating the salarian doctor on the parameters of their mission.

"They said Jaroth and his Eclipse stormed the bridge with a heavy mech and were mowed down," Garka persisted.

"Yes," Aria nodded for him to sit. "Let's talk about that."

"The bridge was a perfect kill zone," Shepard explained, moving to hover next to the couch. "Garrus had held them off that long with a single sniper rifle. When we showed up, Jacob and I locked in a tactic. He'd use his biotics to uproot them one by one and I'd welcome them with a face full of hot polonium. Garrus took the killshot on Jaroth, though."

"They found him lying on his back. His visor was shattered where the round exploded his face." Garka added. "But what about the heavy mech?"

"Oh Miranda helped with that," Shepard saw his XO look up at her name. "She altered the mech's code while it was charging in the back. You should've seen their faces when they dropped that fucker on the bridge and it immediately turned around and started hammering them with heavy machine gun fire."

"Damn, Shepard!" the turian laughed aloud. The batarian shook his head and withheld a smile. Aria rolled her head to look at the Cerberus agent in her corporate white outfit. "Nice work."

Miranda gave a faint shrug and said casually, "They shouldn't have left it out."

"She acts real cool about it," Steve uttered to the bodyguards. "But for figuring that one out…" he lowered his tone, "I think she's pretty proud of herself."

"What was that?" Miranda struggled to hear him over the bass.

"I said it was all in a day's work for Cerberus!" He waited for her to return to her own conversation down there then looked back to the guards and added. "It was mostly me."

"Garm had his Bloodpack tunnel into the compound," the turian insisted. "They would've come up right under your feet."

"I picked up a few rockets from the Blue Suns storage area. That pretty much took care of the tunnel. Garm and a few krogan got through though. Tough bastards. Garm was on a real rampage by the time I got back up to the second level. The place looked like a tornado had gone through it. That krogan was in a frenzy, a real beast. But he was old and he got tired. Jacob hit him with a stasis and that was enough time for me to reload." He plopped down on the side couch and immediately put his feet on the table. He put a fresh cigar in his mouth but didn't light it. "I got in the zone, bullet time, we call it, when everything seems to slow down and line up perfectly." His bright blue eyes were whimsical. "When I was done with that fucker he was slumped back on the couch like he was taking a load off. We left him there because he just kinda looked cool like that."

"You're an interesting one, Shepard," Aria noted, waving her guards to get back to their posts. "The Bloodpack and Eclipse won't forget this."

"I sincerely hope they don't," Steve smiled around his cigar.

"You gonna light that thing?" the asari inquired. "Or do you just like putting long hard objects in your mouth?

Shepard laughed. He removed the cigar and rolled it over between his fingers, looking at it fondly. "I just love the taste. Classic Earth." He put it back in his mouth.

"You may have taken out two gangs unscathed, but your friend Archangel took the worst of it from the Blue Suns. That gunship was their pride and joy. Tarak was certain he'd be running the show with that machine."

"He ran it into the ground," Shepard looked and saw that the others had finished whatever they were discussing and were now giving him impatient looks. He looked back to Aria. "Besides, none of those guys were working for you anyway. And I also managed to fix your plague problem."

Mordin made a sound. "He helped." Shepard added quickly. He gave the doctor a wry smile. "A little."

"I didn't see any of these things as my problem," Aria clarified. "But these things do help Omega and for that I'll do something I'm not usually willing to do." She leaned forward, her cold blue eyes hard and unforgiving. But she smiled anyway. "I'm going to give you the open door policy. When you're in Omega, I'll make sure Omega allows you what you need, provided you come to me first."

"Is this gonna cost me?" The cigar fell limp in Shepard's mouth.

"At some point in time," Aria said dismissively. "I don't need anything from you right now. But that might change."

"Long as we're still friends," Shepard grinned.

Aria sat back. "We're not friends."

---

1-4. Private Line

Councilor Anderson's Office, Presidium, Citadel

"Old school," Anderson was saying, handing Shepard a thick cigar, "Cuban." He lit his and then lit Shepard's. "You have to at least puff on this one, Steve."

"I can make an exception this time," Shepard grinned, puffing happily. "When's the Council gonna be here? I got shit to do."

Anderson laughed. "Don't you always. They should be on-holo any moment. Now I've heard Cerberus is funding everything you're doing right now."

Shepard smiled around his cigar. "That is correct."

The councilor nodded with a sage smile. "And you're feeding intel back channel to the alliance using Cerberus' own encryption?"

"Also correct."

"And you received the data from the back channel I used?"

"Thanks for that, Anderson," Shepard looked over to the door where Miranda and Jacob were waiting cautiously. "Hopefully, with our dossiers complete, we'll be ready when Cerberus coughs up a viable target for the next collector strike."

"I heard about the test tube baby and the ex-con," Anderson muttered critically. "You sure about this new crew of yours, Shepard?"

The commander eyed his XO and master at arms. "They're pulling their weight so far."

A beep on the channel signaled the Council was ready to speak. Miranda and Jacob stepped outside and Anderson and Shepard stood before the holo-pad.

The meeting had been short and sweet and gone pretty much how Shepard had expected. He looked at Anderson. "Well, Councilor, they made me a spectre again awful quick. Almost like they weren't excited to see me. I think they preferred their Hero of the Citadel as an icon only, so they could profiteer off it."

"I warned you this would be pointless," Anderson sympathized. "You saved the Destiny Ascension, so they gave you an audience – something rare these days. But still, it's easier for them to believe the geth invasion was all Saren. The reapers are something intangible they can't deal with right now. They'd rather have the incident packed, sealed and signed away. And for that to happen, they have to believe you were duped by Saren into believing in the reapers."

"Eh," Shepard grunted. "Like I said. What I figured." He puffed a billow of smoke and watched it dissipate, the air filters actively working in streams. He looked out over the skyline of the Citadel Presidium. "If I don't hear from the Illusive Man first, I might head to Illium. I want to see if Liara T'Soni is there. I'm starting to think she might be involved in something big."

Anderson was about to speak when Ambassador Udina came walking snidely into the room. "Anderson, I need to speak with you immediately." He noticed Shepard and sucked in a breath. "Commander Shepard! Most unfortunate timing on your part! There will be a clusterfuck of misinformation spreading. We need to keep this quiet. Leave out the back, I'll have my aides escort you."

"My aides," Anderson corrected, "And they will continue working on the tasks I assigned them."

"Don't worry, Udina," Shepard puffed another stream of smoke towards the ambassador. "I'm on my way out, anyway. I've got several top-secret missions I need to run for Admiral Hackett."

Udina sputtered, "Admiral Hackett? I was not aware of any communication between the two of you."

"Yeah," Shepard said. "He called my private line."

He stubbed out his cigar on his metal plated palm, then tossed in the cinerator bin and gave Anderson a nod. "Anderson, go easy on Udina. He's not very good at his job but he tries real hard." Then he left them both, striding back toward the docking bay with a grin.

---

1-5. Prometheus All Over Again

Prometheus Station

The golden gleam of the giant satellite dish outside the spanning viewing window cast the entire area in a honey-colored light. Laser-fire from the sentry mechs lit up the lounge as Shepard crouched behind a large cream sofa. Burning shreds of fiber drifted through the air. He lifted his hefty Revenant assault rifle and riddled the mechs with supercharged shredder rounds. The electrical charge in the rounds dissipated shields on contact, tearing through the mech plating and exploding circuitry. The heavy metallic ringing of his heavy machine gun droned out as he emptied a spray of snapping and crackling bullets into the mechs. The sentries spasmed and convulsed and burst into sparking bits.

As he rolled back down under his cover, the flashing light and searing heat of a rocket soared just over his head and exploded into the far wall. He rubbed his burning ear with annoyance and popped a thermal clip. The Revenant's muzzle was still smoking.

In a whirling blur, Thane leapt into the air, spinning between laser fire and came down with a hard round house kick, striking a mech in the back of the head and somersaulting it onto its back. The drell's pistol popped a slug into the sentry's face with a loud crack.

Shepard shouldered his rifle and ground his teeth, his senses focusing, his vision sharpening. He leapt up, his eye and his sights were one. Everything slowed around him. With smooth fluidity he moved across the room, sliding behind pillars, across tables, his sights finding each target, lightly tapping three rounds directly into the circle that was their face, and moving to the next position.

In a matter of seconds the commander had cleared the room and left the smoking remains of charred sentry mechs in his wake. He stood at the far end of the room, looking back. Thane was leaning against a pillar, his smooth black leather was illuminated in gold by the incoming light. His crimson shades reflected the satellite dish. "Nice work, Shepard." He said simply.

Garrus shouldered his Viper rifle. "You're making this too easy for me, Shepard. Remember the good old days chasing Saren, when you'd constantly overheat your rifle and I could make the kill shots?"

"I remember when you used to make kill shots," Steve grinned.

"I will admit," Thane thought pensively, "I have not had this much fun in a long time. Your battle tactics are swift and precise and without hesitation." He turned so the light illuminated the rich shades of dark green in his smooth skin. "I find it… invigorating."

"Watching you deadeye dan four sentries with a pistol while moving through the air was invigorating," Shepard waited for them to reach him then they proceeded down the long shaft of a hallway. "I should've known this shit would end up biting us in the ass." He shook his head, "Always in the ass."

"It would seem you have a great amount of experience in this… getting bit in the ass." Thane observed casually.

"So many times that Cerberus had to rebuild his ass," Garrus grunted.

"Hey," Shepard adjusted his tactical visor, "This is the ass of the Citadel." He readied his rifle as they came to the door at the end of the passageway. Two large cylindrical cameras glowed with an eerie green light, training on their movement as they approached. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't promised Anderson intel so I could politely decline these out of the way, pain-in-the-ass Cerberus missions."

"Thanks for reminding me that I'm getting my ass shot off so you and Anderson can smoke cigars later." Garrus shook his head.

"I told you, Garrus," Shepard reminded, "You're welcome to join the club any time."

"The club?" Thane shifted, the light catching the golden ring in his frilled green ear.

"Yeah," the turian groaned. "Shepard has this Club Bravo idea where we drink in the lounge and share war stories and smoke cigars."

"I will attend." Thane stated.

"Well it's kind of an invitation only thing," Shepard explained. "You know, once you've run a few missions."

"Don't worry, Thane," Garrus interrupted, "It's only a club if someone else joins."

"That hurts, Garrus," Shepard gave the turian an affronted look.

"Nothing your Cerberus upgrades won't heal."

"Touché."

"If the two of you are finished," Thane looked at the cameras. "Let us be done with this place. I wish to return to the Citadel as we discussed."

Shepard approached the door and it slid open as he neared, revealing a lab of shattered computer interfaces and littered with the bodies of slain scientists.

"Fucking AI."