A/N: As with all fan-fictions, neither I (Shei B. Kroeker) nor Weretiger Marduk (check out his work here on ) own or claim to own Mass Effect or any part of this universe save a few random characters that may appear. This was written purely out of a love for the game and a mild anger over certain points of the game which we wished to change...also...a twist!

"Children of Fate"
A Co-Op Fan-fiction By Shei B. Kroeker and Weretiger Marduke

Prologue: Commander Shepard

"Commander Shepard to the com room," the disembodied voice of helmsman Jeffery "Joker" Moreau emanated through the PA system of the SSV Normandy, "Repeating: Commander Shepard report to the com room."

The Systems Alliance ship was bustling with activity from the trotting of feet to the incoherant conversations that seemed to flow together like a roaring waterfall. Hoever, all of that combined with Joker repeating his message every thirty seconds seemed to have been completely silenced as the two Alliance soldiers came face-to-face from opposite entrances of the map room. It was not the most awkward position either of them had ever been in, though clearly it was the most frustrating. It was obvious that someone up the line had fucked up royal. To anyone observing, the pair appeared professionally calm, but to each other, the mounting tension was overwhelming.

The woman was a brunette with bright blue eyes and shoulder-length, hair that she kept back in a ponytail save for her bangs which were parted in a strange fashion that framed her face in a thin canopy that reached her jawline. A sliver of that hair was being used to hide the vertical scar on the left side of her face—the bitter reminder of the horror she faced however long ago…but she refused to dwell on that. She was just above average height—about five foot six and a half—without the aid of her armor which probably added only an inch or so. That armor, despite it looking like it restricted her movement with its close-fitting design, was standard Alliance issued and tailored to move with her body and not against. It hid naught about her feminine form, almost like wearing nothing, but in battle, it protected its wearer just as effectively as fullplate had in the middle ages.

By contrast, the man topped her by a good six inches. He was rail-thin, all sharp edges and points. His head was shaved close to his scalp. His facial hair was of identical length, like he cut his hair and shaved with the same razor. His face could only be described as average, if one disregarded the numerous scars scattered across it. Piercing, brilliant green eyes were set deep in their sockets, giving him a haunted look that warred with their predatory gleam. His armor was nowhere near standard issue, instead a more flexible, vaguely reptilian design consisting of many overlapping plates. Originally black and grey, it was covered with small symbols, only a few recognizable. One of them was the batarian clan sign of the settlers of Torfan.

The woman had awkwardly cut off a conversation she had been having with the ship's chief medical officer Dr. Karin Chakwas and a young corporal by the name of Jenkins, both of whom tottered off when they noticed the firey look in the two marines' eyes.

They exchanged mutually cold yet surprised stares for what seemed like hours before the woman shook off the shock and straightened herself out. She took the initiative to speak in an attempt to be as civil as possible to this man.

"Hello, Leon," the woman said finally, inhaling sharply but maintaining her composure.

"Angel," the man responded with a curt nod. He, too, seemed to be struggling with this concept.

Silence fell once more as though neither of them knew how to hold a conversation. It was bad enough that both soldiers were known for their somewhat anti-social behaviors due to their experiences in the field, but this clearly went deeper—or at least it would be clear if anyone else who had known about it were still alive. They were not. Just Leon and Angel.

"What are you doing here?" they found themselves speaking in unison and getting annoyed by it.

Leon gestured to Angel to speak first, but before either of them had a chance, Joker's voice reached them from somewhere nearby.

"Commander Shepard?" he said from a speaker above them.

"What?!" Leon and Angel both nearly snapped as they turned their attention to the security camera next to the same speaker then back to each other in horriffic realization, "Oh, fuck."

Joker suddenly burst with laughter; "This is priceless," he chuckled, "I am totally gonna milk this."

First Lieutenant Angel Shepard

April 11, 2177
"Deserted" Human Colony
Akuze, 1945 hours

"I don't like this," Captain Reed commented as the Ragnarock landed on the seemingly peaceful planet Akuze, "When Alliance Command said we'd lost contact with the colony, I figured they were just having trouble with their long-range, but we're on the surface and still nothing. Just eerie silence."

"Signal jamming, maybe?" the pilot offered.

Reed shook his head, dismissing that possibility entirely; "Ragnarok would have detected it," he said, pointing to the control panel, "I wish it was a jam. At least then we'd have somewhat of an idea what to look for. No, it's something else…something on the planet itself."

Just then, a well-toned man roughly thirty-years-old and decked out in full, standard N7 armor joined Reed on the bridge and gave a brisk salute; "Ya called fer me, cap'in?" he asked with a deep southern accent.

Reed returned the salute; "At ease, Commander," he said then asked, "Where's the rest of your squad, Jameson?"

"In the mess, sir, trying their damndest to save you some cake."

"Cake?" Reed echoed, a mix of confusion and excitement in his words, "What's the occasion?"

"An el-tee's birthday, Cap'in," Jameson said with a grin (it was a well-known fact amongst the crew of the Ragnarok that Captain Reed was extremely fond of cake), "First Lieutenant Angel Shepard's twenty-three today."

"Paul and Helen's kid?"

Reed's excitement faded almost instantly. He knew little about the young lieutenant whom Jameson was refering to, but he had worked with the woman's father on occasion when he was still enlisted. He had no idea it was young Shepard's birthday, nor had he had the time to inform the rest of the crew of the situation on Akuze. After all, he had only just received orders from the top of the chain not but an hour before they landed. Reed did not want to send a squad into the colony had it just been a communications failure as he had originally assumed, but now he had no choice. This was no time for celebrations of any kind.

"Wrap it up, Commander," Reed finally ordered rather remorsefully, "Get the marines active and get ready to disembark. We have orders."

Jameson shifted to command mentality instantly. He did not ask Reed what the orders were—not yet anyway—as he hustled down to the mess hall and ordered all fifty marines present to make for the loading ramp at the aft of the ship. Angel Shepard was at the front of the group. Despite it being her birthday, she knew her job came first and was not hesitant to put all things aside for the sake of duty.

Once everyone was gathered, Reed addressed them and gave what little detail he had of the situation on Akuze.

"It's not much to go on, I know," he said, nearing the conclusion, "and it could be a number of things, so keep your eyes open. We can't leave the Ragnarok on the ground, but we'll be in orbit until you're ready for extraction. We'll be in radio silence on the ship except for the emergency frequency which you should use when you're done here. Good luck, Commander…good luck to the rest of you, as well. And be careful."

The company saluted and followed their commander off the ship even as it began its ascent back into the stratosphere and into orbit.

Jameson led the way towards the main settlement of the colony. He had never been there before, but he had seen vids of the work in progress and liked what he saw. He hoped this really would be nothing more than a comms failure. Akuze would make a nice location for retirement.

"Man, I want some real action," said the young man standing beside Shepard, "this is grunt work."

"C'mon, Corporal," Shepard responded with a grin, "You know all us officers do is take credit for a grunt's work. Keep it coming."

Jameson aloud himself a chuckle at Shepard's comment; "We call that experience, Toombs," he called back with a grandfatherly tone, "we were all 'grunts' once. Now, fun and games aside, let's get on with our mission."

Shepard nudged Toombs playfully in the chest with her elbow as she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

The state of the colony was not what anyone expected. The place had been completely deserted—or at least it was made to look as such. Buildings were empty. Vehicles were abandond. Extranet terminals were humming on low power or cackling from power failure or were simply non-opperational. Shepard approached one of the low-power terminals and started fiddling with the system.

"Can you acces the VI?" Jameson whispered suddenly over her shoulder, "It may contain record of what happened here."

"Not enough power," Shepard answered, sighing softly from the start given her, "There may be an emergency generator somewhere at the center of the colony. If we can get that up, I may be able to salvage something."

Jameson nodded then waved his forefinger in a circle above his head signaling to the rest of the company to spread out to find the generator. Then he turned back to Shepard; "You keep working on that. See what you can get without the VI. Corporal Toombs and I will watch your six."

Shepard nodded but also protested: "I'd much rather be the one holding the gun, sir," she said as she holstered her assault rifle and set to work on the terminal, "this tech stuff was more Dad's thing."

"You're still holding a gun, Lieutenant. Cause, y'know, all techies totally carry a full assault loadout. Just sayin'."

"Point, Commander," Shepard grinned as she removed her helmet to get a better look at the console.

Shepard was able to salvage a lot of data and store it onto a datapad, but she would have no luck with the VI until power was restored to the terminal.

"Blast, what's keeping them?" Toombs asked skiddishly.

"Keep it calm, kid," Jameson ordered, "There's no telling how far in they had to go to find a generator."

"The colony's not that big, Commander," Toombs shot back, "something's wrong."

"Don't soil your britches, Corporal. That's a good way to lose focus."

But Toombs continued to be on edge, much to Shepard's amusement; "Suddenly too much action for you, Toombs?" she chuckled, "We can always find more grunt work."

"It just don't feel right, el-tee," Toombs' voice was just barely a whisper.

Suddenly, a loud hum echoed through the empty colony as every light was turned on. Someone was at last able to get the generator working! Jameson and Toombs relaxed the grips on their weapons as the rest of their company rejoined them at the terminal Shepard had been trying to acces.

"That was hell," a Staff Lieutenant complained, "I don't know what it is about this place, but it's clearly not a safe place to be settling."

"We're not here to judge that," Jameson replied then turned to Shepard, "How's the VI coming?"

"It's trying to boot back up. There's no telling how long it's been in hibernation; it can take anyware from a few minutes to a whole twenty-four hours to come back online. This is one of our older versions."

Jameson sighed; "Let's make camp and set up watch," he ordered, "with any luck, we'll be out of here in the next hour."

The crew did as orderedwith Jameson taking first watch. Unable to do anything with the VI until it booted, Shepard rested against a wall beside the terminal, assault rifle resting in her lap. She could feel the vibrations of the generator from here. They were not very powerful as the machine must have been close to the very edge of the colony, but to feel them at all showed just how old the tech was that the colonists were using here. The electric humming was strangely soothing, and Shepard found herself dozing off to this odd lullaby. She was jarred awake by the sudden chirping of the VI coming online. It was trying to recite a transmission that Shepard could only decipher as having come from an early-warning relay tower out in the uninhabited regions of the planet.

"Unus…eismic r…dings have b…detected in t…outh-eastern plains…begin defense…tocals."

"Unusual seismic readings?" Jameson echoed through a yawn as he moved to Shepard's side, "There're no fault lines on this hemisphear of the planet according to the topography maps. The thing must be glitched; you did say it was old."

Shepard shook her head in disagreement; "It may be old, sir," she said, "but believe it or not, the vintage models tend to be more reliable than their upgraded cousins. If this system says it reported an incoming earthquake, I'd take it at its word."

"Thi…unit di…ot say 'eart…ake,' User," the VI corrected, its vocabulater clearly damaged beyond repair, "it said 'seis…readings.'"

"Either way," Jameson waved dismissively, "if it were anything like that, the whole colony would be reduced to rubble. Explain that one."

"…eis…ic read…are just that," the VI obliged, "readings. They…o not necc…rily mean som…ing is damaged, just…it has…tential…to cause d…mage."

Jameson looked over at Shepard with confusion, and he was met with a shrug from his subbordinate.

"It's right," she said, "I'm no scientist, but I do know the difference between smoke and fire."

Jameson was about to comment on that when the VI interrupted: "This unit is…cking up those…ings right now," it said, "sou…stern planes mo…towards the colony. B…in def…nse pr…t…als!"

At that point, every member of the Ragnarock ground team was awake and on their feet, startled by the sudden tremors that rippled under their feet. Accompanying that was the sound of a strange creature howling off in the distance.

"Oh, shit," Shepard gasped stepping back, "It's not a recitation! This is happening now! And it's moving."

Jameson instinctively armed himself and orered his company to retreat towards the shuttle rendezvous, but Toombs came running at them away from their destination.

"Turn the other way!" he shouted frantically, "Turn around!"

Everyone felt it now, the rumbling underfoot growing ever louder and closer to them. Angel Shepard will never forget that ear piercing roar as she followed her squadmates to the edge of the deserted colony into the path of a recently emerged thresher maw. The world fell to slow motion as she witnessed each member of the squad fall to the rampaging monster.

The next thing she knew, Shepard was laying in the medbay of the Ragnarock, clutching Jameson's and several other marines' dogtags that she never remembered pulling from their bodies. She knew, even as the anesthetics took her under once more, the events of this day would haunt her forever.

Staff Lieutenant Leon Shepard

July 3, 2178
Batarian Outpost
Torfan, 0600 hours

"Squad Bravo! Get your ass up here!"

"Negative! Repeat: negative! Everything's fucked here el-tee! Batarians are everywhere, and our cover's disappearing as fast as we are! We're pinned. Recommend mission abort!"

"That's not an option! Squad Charlie! Support Bravo!" Silence greeted Shepard's comm, "Fuck! All squads report in!"

"Alpha half strong!" Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko reported, "Rifles dry!"

"Bravo: fucked! Two strong and we're out of medi-gel! Fuck! My gun's dry!"

"Delta: ready and able! Full complement fresh off the dropship! Where do you want us?"

Shepard tossed a singularity around the corner of the ramshackle hovel and smiled. Finally, some good news, he thought.

"Delta, get to Bravo, they've got the charges," He paused long enough to cut a turian with slaver markings in half with a long burst of assault rifle, "the two of you link up and cut into the power plant. I'll clear the way."

"You sure el-tee? We can pick up Alpha-"

"Fuck Alpha! Blow the plant or they keep the spaceport! Gurgle or something if they kill you so I can do the fucking job myself!"

Shepard spun a grenade into the side of the door and set it for proximity detonation before hauling ass down the other path, headed for the backdoor of the power plant.

The mission was fucked from the start. Not ten minutes after touchdown the team was working their way through a shantytown, looking for the cause for the alarm blaring around them. Shepard had no clue what triggered it, but he had ordered the squads to fan out and find roads to the plant, the schematics were sketchy at best, so he had set their rendezvous for the backdoor.

Shortly thereafter, things went to hell. The first clue that there was a sniper in the area was when their engineer's head exploded. Things swiftly degraded from there. Team two was an hour away, and had only one squad to reinforce them. They had been effectively pinned down in unfamiliar area and picked off.

Shepard's musings were cut short as a sniper round tore through his shoulder. He yelped as the force from the blow spun him to the floor. A batarian with a shotgun tore through the door to the plant, training his weapon on Shepard.

"Don't move, human!" The batarian pressed the barrel of his shotgun to Shepard's forehead. He smiled, his pointed teeth gleaming in the fading light, "Any last words?"

Shepard smiled as his biotic field flared. The batarian dropped his shotgun, clutching at his head as a scream of agony ripped from him. Shepard stood, collecting the shotgun and setting it against his other shoulder. The batarian uttered a hoarse scream as he collapsed to the ground bleeding from his ears. Shepard worked his shoulder, poking the newly scarred flesh through the hole of his armor.

"Good as new."

Shouldering the shotgun, Leon stepped inside the power plant. He looked around the surprisingly spacious room. Must be a loading dock, he thought. Several crates were stacked up against a sidewall, waiting to be opened.

"Well, let's see what the hubbub's about."

Starting with the largest box, Shepard gestured and activated his biotics. His face slowly twitched into a smile that was half psychotic murderer and half child on Christmas morning as the box fell apart. Hunched in the dim light, a construction exoskeleton sat with canopy open, beckoning him. Both hands contained cargo lifter attachments. Just like Dad's. A jolt of melancholy shot through Shepard for a moment before he shrugged it off and climbed in. In seconds the canopy was sealing shut and diagnostics were being displayed across the transparent HUD. Shepard smiled, More than one way to level a spaceport.

Leon's feral grin, lit up by the cockpit's haptic array, was the last thing a great many batarians saw that night. The survivors named him "The Butcher." He called himself "Mindoir's Avenger."

Lieutenant Alenko could only watch in shocked horror as Torfan burned. Thousands of lives lost, and it all fell on Shepard's head. The man is evil, Kaiden thought dully as he stared at the rapidly shrinking planet. He would never forget Shepard's words: "Fuck Alpha!" It echoed in the back of his mind, drowned out only by the sound of gunfire. No, Shepard, he thought bitterly, when the Alliance gets a hold of you, it'll be you who is fucked. Bank on it.