Well guys I'm back. Don't worry, I'm not some guy thats ripping off this fanfic. I am Mav. I'm just, well, different. I'm taller, smarter, and, more experienced at life. But wait, before you tell me that I'm insulting him, let me just remind you that that's how most people would compare themselves, to their own predecessors of age. So, if it wasn't obvious before, it's me. I lost my Email Account a while ago, and because of that, I had to abandon the account altogether.

It's been a while since I've written a fanfic, and I kind of changed my writing style, so, I might have differently styled stories.

But right now, I want to work on this fanfic again, since, well, I love the idea. I'm bringing it back to life, after starving it to death during the school year. Unfortunately, I forgot what the protagonist's name was (Give me a break, it's been a few months), so, I'm giving him a new one. Maybe Bob...yeah, Bob!

...So, as I've said before: I don't own Mass Effect. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be writing the lines of Sovereign: The resurrected Commander Shepard gone wrong. He is also Grunt's man-child.


Time...seemed relative to a cup of Krogan Liquor. At first, you're trapped in the sentient mass of excruciatingly sluggish movements, tormenting you with the essence of inaction itself. Later on, things go faster, and faster, until you're thrust into the world at a brisk pace. At this point, events around you speed up, until the mere sight of them lasts for milliseconds. Unfortunately, as these events are fast, their impacts slam into your unprepared state. Through your gasping breaths, you wish for the steady slowness that you were born in. But, it's too late; the hours are forever lost, and you're left with the cruel, reckless forms coming at you. Then you throw up.

I mean, that's how time works...right?

Well...that's how Bob always thought it worked. However, he didn't notice how frightening it was, that the event he's in right now matches his interpretation of time. He was just worried about how he was going to get out of it.

It all really pissed him off though. He spent three years of hell in a Cerberus Training facility, and Two years of working here, doing nothing but staring at other people, who are also staring at people, staring at people, who stare at Rachni and Husks. But, it all just landed him in this situation, and his entire military career was going to end in a few seconds, by a Krogan with incendiary rounds, a Quarian with a cracked visor, and a large man, with pink N7 Armor.

But, before Bob could make any escape attempts, a giant orange wheel lit up in front of the N7 soldier. Strangely enough, the wheel seemed to be surrounded by different phrases of different natures...very different natures. As the soldier was staring at it, while rotating an arrow around with his hand, Bob silently, as if it were out of instinct, read the words that circled it.

"Investigate"

"Hey look, this guy's hurt. Give him some medi-gel Tali."

"We can't let this guy live. He might cause trouble."

"Lets torture him, and send him back to Cerbe- WHAT?"

Oh God, this was some sort of decision making device that oversaw his moral values and instincts! Bob was about to get the hell out of there, when the Commander looked up with a cold gaze that froze him in his tracks. The cruel scowl, illuminated by the seemingly comforting glow of the wheel seemed to stop time altogether. Unfortunately, that scowl turned into a fake smile, and he selected the option on the wheel that was on the bottom right.

"Oh, hey look, a Cerberus Trooper! Lets mutilate his corpse, and send it back to Cerberus, just in case they have any bright ideas on pursuing us...". The Commander leaped for joy, at Bob's dismay.

The Krogan standing next to him made a sadistic grin, so large that it seemed to open up the scars on his already battle-torn face. But the Quarian with the broken mask was worrying too much about getting the "air-plague".

"Keelah Shepard, I really need to get back to the Normandy. I don't think Medi-Gel could fix this.", said the frightened engineer.

The Commander, almost comically, turned his head toward the Quarian with a face, literally fuming with an anger that could burn through a reaper!

"SHUT UP TALI I'M TALKING SO GET YOUR LAZY ASS BACK TO THE SHIP!", screamed the Commander. At the same time, the sign that numbered the amount of renegade points that the Commander had, was changed from +8 Renegade, to +20. It didn't last long when the Commander shouted again, saying, "AND YOU! THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF YOU!" He grabbed the Renegade sign out of the air, and proceeded to beat Bob to death with it.

"Wait...wait, please don't do this! I didn't even shoot you!", pleaded the horrified trooper.

But it was too late. The Red star on the bludgeoning tool to seemed to blend in with the blood that it came in contact with. The sight of the screeching Commander, creating a fountain of gore with every impact caused the Krogan to join in. Meanwhile, the Quarian laid on the ground behind them, twitching, but unresponsive to the situation at the moment.

+30 Renegade

+40 Renegade

+50 Renegade

+60 Renegade

Yep. Bob was convinced that those numbers were going to be the last thing he was ever going to see.


Alright guys, so, I've decided to change the point of view in the story to third-person, since it just worked better. I mean, who has a good enough memory, to know every single detail of the event? But, don't worry. The narrator will say things in the style of each character's personality.

Also, this story won't be full-on, "silly-silliness". I'll try to make this story have a sort of, "Serious-Funniness". But enough with the oxymoron's right now. Go ahead and tell me what you think about this first chapter. Tell me what you like, and dislike, and I'll try to make improvements according to your comments.

But don't worry, I can assure you that the chapters after this, will be longer.