A/N I don't own mass effect, that is property of Bioware

If this seems familiar I was inspired to write this story by Boldfullmetal, I am using this with their permission

I will likely use the first chapters written, with my own additions before getting to my original story

The beginning

He looked around a corner of rubble, straight ahead of him he could see two Batarians holding the girls down. The one with white hair was being forced onto the ground with a heavy boot planted squarely on the side of her face, the other was being lifted up by her hair and forced to stare at the other Batarian.

Caution was thrown to the wind as he moved forward quickly but silently, holding a knife in a reverse grip in his right hand. The first Batarian barely reacted as the knife severed his hand at the wrist, he did however let out a terrible scream as the knife was driven through one of his eyes before he fell silent. The second Batarian hadn't even raised his assault rifle before the human raised a M-5 Phlanax pistol and fired three shots, the first two depleting his kinetic barriers while the third hit him squarely between his four eyes killing him instantly.

He yelled something to the two girls and pointed back in the direction of their farmhouse, they ran back in the direction he pointed telling him something, but whatever was said he couldn't hear it.

He looked forward again just in time to see four more Batarians heading towards their farmhouse, undoubtedly attracted by the screams of their comrades.

In a flash of blue light, the man was instantly in front of the four, he drove a right hook into the face of one of the Batarians, however instead of merely pushing the Batarian back, the momentum of the blow carried through and crushed the Batarian's head against the wall of the building.

The other three were shocked by the show of extra ordinary strength which gave him the chance to drive his foot into the knee of another Batarian, practically breaking his leg in half and sending him to his knees, he then fired his gun into the Batarian's face, killing him.

The remaining two began to lift their assault rifles, almost too fast to track, he grabbed the end of one and pushed it away from him, in his surprise the Batarian squeezed the trigger failing to realise that the weapon had been redirected towards his comrade causing him to open fire on the other Batarian, whose kinetic barriers were quickly depleted and he was gunned down.

He then gripped the throat of the remaining Batarian and with as much effort as popping bubble wrap, broke his neck.

He began to move forward again, placing a new heatsink into his pistol as he did. Suddenly with incredible instincts and speed, he opened fire with his pistol behind him without looking, gunning down another slaver that he somehow knew was there.

He ran forward and saw another man crouching behind a makeshift barricade, the man yelled something at him but once again he was unable to recall what was said. He looked over the barricade and saw another group of Batarians heading towards them, he knew what would happen if they got through, how many lives would be lost. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed an avenger assault rifle and ran towards the Batarians, ignoring the man's cries for him to stop.

As he charged forward, he felt his rage increase, he would kill all of these invaders, he would make them all pay.

He raised a biotic barrier as the Batarians opened fire, their angry expressions changed to shock when it somehow withstood all the rounds, they fired at it.

As he reached them, he punched one of the Batarians across the face, his jaw producing a very loud crack, he then grabbed the Batarian's neck and positioned him between himself and the other slavers, using him as a living shield. The Batarians opened fire not caring if they hit their comrade, yet as their guns stop firing and the heatsinks were ejected, he primed one of the grenades still attached to the belt of the now dead Batarian he was holding and used a biotic throw to send the corpse forward into the mist of the other invaders.

The explosion killed three Batarians and sent the final one flying against the wall with major burns.

He stood over the final Batarian, who was still screaming in pain and brought his foot down reducing his head to paste.

Suddenly he felt a wave is exhaustion hit him as he fell to his knees and his vision became blurry, he looked up to see another Batarian raising his rifle before striking him with the butt of it.

In his last moment of consciousness, he saw what appeared to be red lightning attempting to travel down a synapse but dying out before reaching the target.

Location: Batarian Hegemony slave ship, enroute to the citadel

Date: June_2180

Coughing himself awake, Shepard groaned as reality came crashing back to his body. Bringing with it a world of pain.

He had experienced that dream repeatedly while imprisoned on this ship, and he couldn't remember doing any of those things. In fact, the time between the Batarian's attack and his capture was a complete blank in his memory.

He leaned back sighing, concluding that his dream was just wishful fantasy. Afterall, if he could do the things he had seen in that dream he wouldn't be stuck in this current situation.

"Four hours; a new record... Dream about anything?"

"Dream't I wasn't on a slave ship." John replied sardonically.

"Holy shit," Joker smirked and feigned overdramatic wonderment, "I've been having that dream too!... It's like we're connected."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shepard resisted the urge to smile. In his weakened condition it hurt to laugh, and he knew if he responded it would only excite him more. As horrible as it sounded, John was glad his best friend had been captured with him. Having a familiar face made going through this misery all the more bearable. God only knew if he'd ever see him again. He hoped he would, but knew it was probably unlikely.

"Anything happened when I was out?"

Jeff looked away, "Ramirez... Ramirez passed away." There was sombreness in his voice, "the squints took his body outta here about an hour ago."

"Shit…" John close his eyes and wearily side. "How'd he go?" He didn't want to know, but needed to ask.

"Opted out… bit off his tongue and bled to death."

John felt his blood begin to boil, "why the fuck didn't anyone notice!? Where the fuck were Johnson and Oliver? Why weren't they watching over him!?" his aggravation sent him into another coughing fit, and he forced himself to calm down "I charged those two with watching over him so shit like this wouldn't happen."

"He went silently, John" Joker shrugged his shoulders and gave him an apologetic look, "no one knew until it was too late besides, it was his choice. You can't blame him for wanting to leave this."

"I don't blame him, Jeff." I blame myself. Shepard punched the deck with his fist. With Ramirez gone, the death toll now stood at thirty-two. Running a hand through his greasy unkept hair, he asked. "Any other surprises?"

Jeff came to his side to help him sit up. "Well, Achmed over there thinks he's figured out a way to focus up with free satellite cable." As Joker snickered, John felt his anger subside and shook his head. Sometimes he envied how quickly Moreau could switch gears.

"Funny. Yesterday he told me he could hook me up with three intergalactic calls." They shared a smirk. No matter the situation, sarcasm was always funny. Gesturing to the rest of the slaves with a nod of his head, John asked. "Anyone find out where we're going? Or when we'll get there?"

"Nothing new."

"That's disappointing. Even the sandy deserts of Kar'shan would be a welcome change of scenery."

"Yeah, but I doubt you would enjoy it for very long."

"Kar'shan. You will never find, a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."

A few of the men around them let out snickering chuckles. Resting his head against the cell bars, John tried to calculate how much time they'd spent on the ship. To the best of his knowledge, it had been two weeks since he'd been kidnapped from Mindoir and enslaved. At least he thought it had been two weeks? For all he knew it could have been a month. The passage of time was inexplicably troublesome to determine out in space. More so in their case: trapped in a 20'x20' cell with (now) sixty-eight other slaves. Surrounded by metal walls, no clock, no calendar, lights kept on 24/7 to keep them sleep deprived and disorientated, surviving on one meal a day so they were weak and easy to control. At times the only thing that kept them all from going insane was each other.

God, Jonathan was tired.

Not the, I just spent the entire day fixing the chicken coop tired, but rather the, oh my god, everything hurts, someone please put me out of my misery tired. Glancing at his decrepit, grime and shit covered self, he figured he was half dead already. Though for some reason, life clung to his body like a virulent disease. His family was strong in that sense all seven of his siblings had that stalwart tenacity too. John attributed it to his parents. What with them being N7's and all.

Shephard felt himself warm as happy memories from home flooded his mind. Working the field with his father, is mother teaching him how to cook and hunt, performing one of his mechanical miracles as he fixed a broken machine, sneaking onto the Williams property at night to rendezvous with Ashley in their barn attic… But soon his smile turned to wet, raspy, coughs, as he struggled for breath. It felt like an elephant was sitting on him or maybe one of those Elcor creatures he'd read about in school.

"How's your breathing?"

"If you… If you can call it that." John replied with several heavy wheezes. "Christ… Feels like… Feels like I'm sucking air through a coffee straw."

"Better than sucking something else."

"Dammit, Joker, don't make me laugh." A small smile spread across his lips as he coughed once more. Taking a deep, nasally breath, John turned his head and spat out thick glob of white mucus. "Christ, this isn't good. How's my temperature?"

"How should I know?"

Shephard narrowed his eyes, "just put your wrist on my forehead and tell me. "

Jeff resisted the urge to make some sort of rectal thermometer joke, and dusted the grime off his wrist as best he could, hopefully their captors would spray the cell down with the fire hose soon. God, when did he start looking forward to that? Placing his wrist on Shepard's forehead, Jeff steeled his expression.

"It's bad isn't it?"

"It's not so bad, Shep. You just got a small fever is all; hardly noticeable." Jeff lied. Shepard's body was cold, clammy, and sticky with a thick layer of sweat. "Just need to get some food and water and antibiotics. You'll be right as rain in no time" he said meekly, more to reassure himself as he readjusted John's blanket and massaged his shoulder. "Trust me, you'll be fine."

"You're a horrible liar." John could see the worry in Jeff's eyes and he doubted that the Batarians would be so kind as to give him antibiotics. Hell, they were just as likely to toss him out an airlock as they were to treat him. "You should stay away from me. Don't wanna risk getting you infected."

"Knock it off with that." Joker replied quietly as he lightly swatted John on the back of the head. "Might give people the wrong idea about us"

"So, there's an us now?" Shephard worked his eyebrows in a teasing manner "I'm touched Joker." Covering his mouth as he coughed again, John lifted his blanket to examine his bruised rib cage touching it, he winced in pain. "Four eyed fucks don't mess around."

"You're lucky nothing is broken."

"You mean he's lucky."

Joker sighed and rubbed his forehead, "you know, I distinctly remember warning you not piss off the guards. If you listened to me, your chest wouldn't be looking 50 shades of fucked up."

Rolling his eyes as he traced his fingers over his stomach, John Shephard could feel that his body was already starting to atrophy; cannibalising fat to make up for caloric deficit. The protein in his muscles would be next, and because he was biotic, it wouldn't be long before he was looking like a twig. "At least I'm not the one getting buddy buddy with the squints."

"This is prison rules, Shep. I'm not some freaky giant like you."

"I'm only eighteen. I'm hardly a giant."

"You're 6 feet tall and built like a linebacker. You've got your strengths, I've got my jokes."

"Your jokes aren't very good." John deadpanned.

"You're really gonna argue with me? We got blankets, Shephard… Blankets!"

John raised his hand in mock triumph, "Hazzah! A mighty victory."

"You're like a mob wife you know that?... You look down at me and my ways, but you don't mind wearing the mink coat that fell off the back of the truck."

"Really? Because last week you said I was the brakes."

"That was if we were cars, Shephard. This is if we are mobsters."

"I know which part you'd be if we were a horse." The men around them laughed and snickered. This had been their roles since they'd been captured. John was true to his namesake and acted as a shepherd, making sure it didn't become too much like Lord of the flies. While Joker hammered home the levity to keep up morale. Positive mental games were one of the most precious assets they had left.

"Shit, here comes your new best friend." Jeff hushed as he made himself look like he was minding his own business. "Try not piss him off again."

Jonathan didn't have the energy to respond, but he knew if he didn't act as a lightning rod for the slaver's hostility, the burden would be passed on to everyone else. That was something he just couldn't live with.

"Well, well, well, look who survive the night?" Balak's gravelly dual toned voice was like sandpaper to his ears. He nudged the human with the edge of his boot, looks like Charn owes me 50 credits.

Shephard remained silent and glared indignantly as he wrapped his arms through the cages metal bars. Silence wasn't lost on the slaver.

"What? No witty come back? No scathing retorts?"

Coughing several times as he adjusted his dinghy wool blanket, John flashed a weak smile. "I'm sure your mother is very proud. She'll probably let you have a nice time in her bed for 50 credits."

"Now you've done it." Joker chastised as he moved away.

Balak flicked his wrist, causing the Varren prod in is hand to telescope to its full length. The look of fear on the slave's faces ignited a sadistic fire in his four, beady, black eyes. "Got quite the mouth on you slave" he sneered as electricity arced between the rod's prongs, "were you a female, I'd show you how to put that tongue to proper use."

"Classic overcompensation. You know Balak there is nothing wrong with being gay. In the end you're hurting yourself by sticking to this hetero delusion." After Shepherd saw the Batarian was too stupid to understand his jab, he dumbed it down a bit "you have latent homosexual tendencies because you grew up fatherless and watch your mother whore herself to make ends meet… Or who knows? Maybe your mother just likes it."

Balak chuckled and said, "I'm going to miss this." Before hitting him with 75,000 volts of mind-numbing electric pain. He watched with glee as the human flailed silently in agony while his naked body spasmed in torment on the floor. After a few seconds he took the prod away, "anything else?"

Shepherd panted and wheezed through clenched teeth as every muscle in his body felt like it had been set on fire. Hocking another wad of mucus and spitting it onto Balak's boot, Shephard sneered triumphantly and gave a defiant look.

"You know fellas… It makes my heart heavy to see the Batarian race sink as low as Balak's mother has. At least if she were a human she'd be ashamed of herself." Some of the other slaves snickered, "but being a squint bitch, she still thinks she is better than the Krogan she sells herself to in the parking lot of the titty bar she works at." The snickers had turned to outright laughter.

"My mother is a bookkeeper, slave!"

"Well she would have to be to keep track of all the guys she sleeps with." John retorted and laughed while he could before he was hit again with the prod. Instantly his body contorted again, and his head thrashed against the bars, cutting open his forehead. Shephard wanted to yell, wanted to scream, wanted to do something, but was paralysed by the pain. He could do nothing but wait for his torment to be over.

In his mind it lasted for an eternity, but in actuality it was only a few moments. Damaged slaves meant less profit, and owners wanted to do the breaking in themselves. Pulling the prod away, Balak hissed. "Care to go for round three?"

Shephard's head pitifully lolled against the bars as blood dripped over his eyes, blurring his vision. "You know… One of these days I'm gonna have a nifty little stick of my own… Just you wait."

"Ha-ha-ha! Such determination! You'll need fire where you're going Mindoirian." John didn't like the friendly turn Balak's tone had taken. "Many lannisters will pay handsomely to add such spirited flesh to their ludi's ranks." Shephard's mind exploded in anguish as Balak electrocuted him again. "Who knows, human? Maybe months from now I'll see you fighting in the sands of my home worlds Coliseum." He pauses his torture for a moment and toothily grins, "and I'll be to say: I knew him when."

"Go… to…Hell"

"Good! Good!" Balak gleefully cheered as he hit the human with the varren prod again and again. This time however, he didn't stop until the human passed out. When the slave moved no more, Balak fished his yellow penis from his trousers, and let go a stream of foul brown piss. As he marked the human on his ugly, inferior, two eyed face, Balak laughed. "Remember, slaves. Your new masters won't be as merciful as I." When the flow stopped, he repositioned his trousers and walked away.

As Balak trotted off to continue his round, Joker would hear the occasional yelp of pain from an unfortunate soul. As horrible as it sounded, he was glad he was male. For them, the occasional electric prodding, beatings and blast from a fire hose was the worst it ever got. He didn't want to imagine what sort of hell the women were going through in the other compartment.

Coughing out a mouthful of blood and Piss, John groaned as he spat out the small piece of his lower lip. Examining the void with his dirty fingers, he fell where he had bitten clean through his flesh. "Fucking prick" his face suddenly contorted in disgust, "oh God what the fuck is that smell? Why am I wet? Did someone piss on me?"

"Yep." Replied someone

Shepherd wanted to vomit.

"Hey Shephard." "Not now, Jeff." John replied as he contemplated the gain of drying himself up with his dirty blanket. In the grand scheme of things, he was surrounded by filth and excrement, a little piss would hardly make a difference.

"Shephard?... Shephard …. Hey Shephard?"

John winced as he rolled over to face him, "what?"

"Suck. My. Dick."

The cage erupted with laughter. It didn't matter how stupid it was or if it made any sense, they were all just glad for something to laugh at. Though truth be told, Shepherd wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.