A/N: This story assumes there have been conflicting goals and mutually withheld information between Alliance intelligence and Cerberus long before Cerberus "officially" went rogue in 2183. There are some historical inaccuracies. Some are intentional, for instance I've changed architectural elements of the Danieli, particularly in interior design, to suit the story. Others I haven't had the time to research properly. There's also a date inconsistency – if you spot it, you'll know why it couldn't be resolved. Ignore it.

Masks and Mirrors

A Mass Effect fan fiction, by Ieldra2

Chapter 1: The assignment

"You're sending me to infiltrate a high society party? You can't be serious…uh…sir."

Lieutenant Cyrus Shepard was dismayed. Out of the corner of his eye, he threw a fleeting glance at the holoscreen detailing the offending assignment, as if by barely acknowledging it he could make it go away.

"Why not, if I may ask?"

The tone carried considerable amusement. Though why Commander Naman Rangarajan of the Alliance Navy military intelligence would be amused eluded Shepard. He stared at his superior incredulously. "Sir, I'm sure you're aware of my background. I'm a street kid from the slums of Calcutta."

"Wrong, Shepard", said Rangarajan. "You were that street kid. Now you're an N7-qualified operative. You might not know it, but your yearly assessments always mention your adaptability. That's a rare quality and we intend to use it. Why do you think we poured into you a master's degree's worth of etiquette, culture and history of several species during your training?"

Shepard felt his face grow hot. He had avoided these classes any chance he got, and hadn't been particularly attentive. The result was he barely passed that part of his final exams.

"Uh…sir. I'm…well, let's say I'm not feeling very adaptable right now."

Rangarajan laughed. "You want to tell me you skimped on those classes? Well, here's the surprise: so did everyone else. Nobody likes them. They're not meant to be remembered in detail. They exist for the sole purpose of providing a framework for your future briefings."

Shepard didn't know if he should feel relieved or even more dismayed. Relieved, because he'd get a refresher course. Dismayed because it meant he couldn't wriggle out of this assignment.

"Relax, Lieutenant. You'll do fine. Now, please, if you'd pay attention to the briefing I'm trying to give you. I haven't got all day."

"Yes, sir."

Several images appeared in the holoscreen. Pointing at the picture of a nondescript interstellar courier ship, Rangarajan began to explain.

"This is the Alliance courier C345-Stargazer. Twenty days ago, it vanished in a pirate attack in the Ismar Frontier cluster. Or so we thought. It seems the attackers were aware the Stargazer carried classified information about certain Alliance operations I'm not allowed to disclose at this moment, and the acquisition of this information appeared to be their primary objective."

He switched to the picture of a roughly 40-year-old Caucasian male human clad in an expensive business suit with tanned skin, short black hair and a black moustache. At his side was a stunning pale-skinned brunette in a conservatively-cut but very stylish emerald-green sundress.

"Artur Kolyakov," said Rangarajan, "One of Earth's most notorious black-market information brokers. Does legal business as an investment broker, which explains his wealth if you don't look deep enough. One of our assets believes he's been contracted to decrypt the VI core the Stargazer was carrying. There's no direct evidence, but he's stepped up his security and he's hacked into several Alliance satellites targeting his residences and several of his contacts. No idea how he knew about them, but fortunately his intrusion was detected. There's a meeting scheduled with a Shadow Broker contact at Palazzo Danieli in Venice on the 11th, where we believe the decrypted information will be handed over. The location suggests the contact is highly placed."

"Who's the woman," asked Shepard, closely examining the picture to catch more details of her face.

"Ha," said Rangarajan, "thought she'd get your attention." A dossier with a close-up appeared in another window. The face was uncommonly harmonious, like an incarnation of ancient Greek ideals of perfect beauty, with a hint of dimpled cheeks keeping it from the boring side of perfection. Her skin was unfashionably pale, but it contrasted nicely with her dark-brown, almost black hair and eyes. "Her name is Ione Bianchi. She's more or less in the same business as Kolyakov. Originally from Omega, doctorates in computer science and xenobiology. She used to work on Aite as a professional escort – of the showpiece kind if you can believe that– and made a fortune stealing her clients' secrets and selling them to rival factions. When that got out, she had to flee. Kolyakov's picked her up two days ago. We aren't aware of any previous connection between them, but she certainly acts as if she's his girlfriend, not just a business partner."

"Could she have any interest in this matter?"

"Unlikely. So far she's avoided anything that would bring our close attention. From what we know about her past operations, she seems well-aware of her limits. Keep away from her, it's rumored she's a master at seeing through anyone's disguise."

"Hmm," said Shepard. "Palazzo Danieli on the 11th – that means we'll be wearing masks. I probably wouldn't recognize her anyway. Which brings me to my next question: how the hell will I recognize Kolyakov?"

"We have a surveillance camera in place. The operator will send you a snapshot as Kolyakov leaves his suite to join the festivities. She'll send it to you via commlink. She'll also inform you about who's where most of the time, but since she's located off-site you'll get no backup if things get difficult."

Rangarajan picked up a datapad and handed it to Shepard.

"Everything I've told you is in here, including a floor plan, names and dossiers of everyone we know to be present. Plus the complete dossiers of Bianchi and Kolyakov, just in case. Your main objective is to prevent the VI core and any information obtained from it getting into the hands of the Shadow Broker's contact. We'd prefer to get the VI core back intact, but destroy it if there's no other way. Second, identify the Shadow Broker's contact. We've got you an invitation to the masquerade ball as a visiting diplomat. Select an appropriate cover ID. Unfortunately, our bean-counters have refused to underwrite the costs for a room, so you'll have no home base."

"Can't really say I blame them," said Shepard. "Aren't the rooms at 2500 creds per night?"

"Yeah. But you'd think they'd consider the consequences if this operation goes pear-shaped," Rangarajan grumbled. "Of course, that won't come out of their budget, so what do they care. Any questions?"

"Yes, Sir." Shepard took the datapad. "I'll need some kind of...er...costume, don't I? I don't have the faintest idea what this is about..."

"Everything will be provided by your local contact. You'll find the address in your files."

"Aye, aye, sir. That was all, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Shepard saluted and turned away. As he reached the door, the Commander spoke up again.

"One more thing, Shepard."

"Sir?"

"Palazzo Danieli is one of Europe's most valuable cultural assets, rebuilt with original material after the tsunami of 2090. Things could get very awkward with the local government, not to mention expensive if it's damaged. So, please, no explosions."

Shepard managed to look chagrined. His reputation as military intelligence's 'demolition man' wasn't entirely undeserved, but he still thought people made too much of it.

"Yes, sir."

-O0O-

Miranda Lawson stepped into the communicator. As it scanned her outlines and projected her virtual image across the galaxy, her surroundings were gradually replaced by a platform seemingly floating in deep space, outlined by the glow of the red giant star in the background. On the platform, a man sat in a simple designer chair, surrounded by virtual desks and holoscreens by which he controlled his secret empire. His hand held a cigarette, and a glass with a clear liquid rested on an extended armrest.

"Ms. Lawson," the Illusive Man acknowledged the presence of his operative.

"Illusive Man." Miranda replied, trying to appear unimpressed. She had to work to keep up the appearance, though. This was her first personal meeting with the head of her organization. If you could call a virtual meeting personal. There was no way to tell if the image mirrored his real appearance. He appeared to be in his forties, but his short brown hair had a touch of grey – almost certainly artificial, an affectation to make him look older and wiser. It was awkward addressing him as she had, but nobody, not even his closest confidants if the rumors were correct, knew any other name.

"Welcome," the man said. "I believe this is our first meeting, so I'm expecting a certain curiosity about my home. Indulge yourself."

"I know our modus operandi well enough not to ask about your location. Everything else either lies" - she put a subtle emphasis on the word - "before my eyes, or I'm not on the need-to-know list"

"As perceptive as ever, Ms. Lawson," he said and pulled on his cigarette. The image conveyed the whirling white smoke in astonishing detail. "You are, of course, entirely correct. You may consider this meeting as sign of your promotion. Cerberus has no formal ranks, but from now on the only orders you'll be expected to follow are mine. I will allocate resources for your operations, but you may conduct them however you wish, so long as the objectives are met."

This promotion did not come completely unexpected. Her erstwhile mentor had informed her that her operations had gained the Illusive Man's attention, and that he was impressed. The timing, however, wasn't accidental.

"Thank you. I'll continue to use my skills to serve the advancement of humanity. Am I correct in assuming my next operation will take me to Earth, and that it holds special significance?"

"Indeed." There was a hint of an ironic smile on his face. "I think the circumstances of this assignment will be a pleasant change for you. The cause, however, is much less so."

"There has been a raid on one of our facilities," the virtual image continued. "The VI core was stolen. Stored within were the facility's research data, intelligence that the cell collected on Council and Alliance operations, and the locations of several other bases. We sent a recovery team, but they arrived too late. The courier carrying the core was captured by a third party. Resources they used point to a mercenary group favored by agents of the Shadow Broker. The silver lining is they don't know what it is they have. The VI core was encrypted, and a trace suggests your old friend Kolyakov might have been hired to help them out. Which is one reason why we're sending you."

"Kolyakov wouldn't betray humanity", Miranda answered. "He's always been conscientious about who he works with. He's not above helping crimelords like Aria with money-laundering, but selling top-secret Alliance intelligence to the Shadow Broker seems out of character."

"Perhaps he doesn't know who he's working with. I don't need to mention the Broker is very adept at covering his tracks. Or your assessment of Kolyakov's character might be outdated. It could be a setup, but there's no evidence to support that."

"Where's Kolyakov now?"

"At his home in Valparaíso. It is unlikely he'll leave Earth, he's booked rooms at Palazzo Danieli for the Venetian Carnival. Alliance intelligence seems to believe he'll meet his contact there, but we've been unable to confirm the identity of that contact."

"Keeping tabs on him might be our best chance to recover the VI core and destroy anything he's already decrypted. The meeting may also give us a chance to identify his contact."

"Indeed." He sounded satisfied. "You have listed your objectives for this assignment. Keeping the data out of the hands of the Shadow Broker and the Alliance takes priority, everything else I leave to your judgment. You haven't undertaken operations in this area before, but the Shadow Broker and Cerberus aren't exactly on the best of terms."

"I'm prepared for all eventualities. But I'll need a surveillance operator and some backup should things get violent. A team of two should be sufficient. Operatives Khazan and Nurmi have done ops in the city before."

"You'll have them. You can also expect Alliance interference. They were the source of the information, so it's a given they'll send an operative with objectives similar to yours."

"I'll deal with him if necessary." She'd had run-ins with Alliance operatives before. She wouldn't hesitate to kill them, though she disliked it, deluded as she thought they were about whose interests the Alliance ultimately served.

"I know you will. That's why I'm sending you. Good luck."

"If luck becomes a deciding factor, I'll have made a mistake. But thank you."

-O0O-