Writer's notes: If I have to explain too much, I'm not writing the story properly, so this'll probably be the only one of these.
Firstly, this story is set after Mass Effect 2. Do not read if you have not already completed it... Or if you've read tons of spoilers online.
Cerberus network, for some reason, won't work when I try to use it. So the extra characters don't show up in this story, because I don't know enough about them. 'Sides, there are already enough. And now onto our featured... Story thing.
Chapter 1- Plural
Everywhere was dark. Silent. Empty. Except for the small red lights of alliance armor. The man reached for his weapons, but ended up grasping for air... If there was even air in this void. He reached for his helmet, activating the lights, but still found nothing. The only sound was the rough metallic noise of his own rebreather.
...But why could he hear it behind him?
He turned, to find a helmet. A massive helmet. Titanic. It was exactly like his in every way, but it was bigger than anything he had ever seen. An equally gigantic hand reached up, pulling off the faceplate. Revealing it's face.
It was male, with some rough stubble on his chin. His skin was pale, but his facial structure looked Mongolian, or Japanese. His head wasn't bald, but it was obviously shaved, with a subtle shine. That wasn't important. What was important was the scars. The orange scars, forming a grid on his face, and his eyes. His glowing orange eyes, almost red. The man in the void watched as the scars grew across the giant's face, tearing his face apart. Orange-red liquid poured from the cracks, like lava, burning away his face. Leaving only a burning metallic skull. It opened it's mouth, and roared. The sound of the end of the world.
Shepard awoke with a start. What a nightmare. That was... Beyond a nightmare. He'd been having the same dream, over and over, ever since the human reaper was destroyed. He thought about talking to Chambers about it... But he didn't want to poke a wound. Better to let it heal. Besides, it wasn't messing with his work, and that was all that mattered.
"Good morning, Commander."
EDI's familiar holographic image appeared on the opposite side of the room. Shepard was surprised that she said "morning", since the reaper was destroyed, he'd been waking up later than normal.
"Shepard, I don't know if you're actually awake or going back to dreamland, but you need to get your butt in gear."
Joker was one of the few people Shepard trusted. Well, he trusted him to get the job done. He was too mischievous to be properly trusted.
"Fine. I'll be down in a bit."
Shepard walked over to his wardrobe, before noticing he slept in his uniform. He shrugged and headed to the elevator instead. He knew that he'd smell but he had the feeling he had to shoot something soon, and he wanted to get it over with.
Shepard was surprised to find most of the crew gathered around the cockpit. It was serious. Joker looked over his shoulder at Shepard. "You're going to want to see this."
Shepard stepped forwards and Joker pulled up a holographic image of the Normandy. Shepard looked at it for a few seconds, noticing nothing wrong. "It looks fine to me."
Joker rolled his eyes and turned his chair around to face him. "Shepard... That isn't our ship."
Shepard crossed his arms. "How is that possible?"
Joker spun back around again, pressing some holographic buttons. "I don't know. But that's not all."
Loud static filled the room, but was quickly replaced with a calm, but stern female voice. "This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy. Something... Weird has happened. Most of the ship's functions have failed an-"
The real Shepard stopped it before it could continue. His face held no emotion, which was the best sign that he was pissed.
"Joker. Dock with the 'Normandy'. I want to meet 'Commander Shepard' myself."
Shepard sat in the empty ship. She'd set the message to repeat, but she wasn't sure if anyone would find it. Without FTL communications, it was unlikely. The chances of a ship just finding her was next to none, but it was better than nothing. She tapped her helmet slightly, checking it was still airtight. For some reason she felt nervous wearing the rebreather, she never entirely trusted it. It was probably just paranoia.
She panicked slightly when she heard a lot of pressurized air being released, but it wasn't her rebreather, it was the airlock. Three armored figures stepped in. The first wore alliance armor, painted a light gray all over with some modifications. The second was a simply titanic Krogan, and the third was a Turian, with massive burn marks on his armor, but curiously, none on his helmet. "You don't look like Alliance. Who are you?"
The Krogan grunted and shrugged. The Turian looked away nervously. The human stepped forwards, obviously angry.
"My name is Commander Alex Shepard."
Her attempts to process that sentence were interrupted by an armored fist to the chin.