Prelude

Vallhallan Threshold, 2162

The Rayya

Hallway lights rushed past him above, his booted feet pounded on the metal floor, and the air filters in his helmet worked at max capacity. He was running.

In his home.

The Migrant Fleet was all he had ever known, and even his pilgrimage didn't do enough to tear him away from that fact. He loved his people, their culture, their energy, their home. It was truly everything he'd ever wanted.

The bag around his back shifted opposite to the sway of his running, and it was soon followed by the crying of an infant child. It only enticed him to run faster.

Some things were worth more than a home.

Boots pounded heavily as he passed another hallway, and shouts in vain soon followed as multiple armed, Quarian men chased him. Primal instinct kicked in as he ran faster, and his legs became lighter even with the thick environmental suit encasing him.

No one was taking his child from him.

The corner he was looking for rounded his vision, and he quickly shut the blast doors behind him. Another male Quarian blasted the control panel to pieces with a shotgun, forcing security lockdown.

"We don't have much time," the armed Quarian stated, grabbing the other's arm and began running again. The other attempted to keep up, but the toll on his body from the long and mostly adrenaline-influenced run was beginning to take hold. His eyes panned up and noticed the small hangar bay with only a few medium-range fighters waiting for them.

The armed Quarian stopped, and the other bent over in relief, the crying of the infant resonating through the hangar. He took the bag off his back and pulled a small bubble from the inside, revealing the Quarian infant squirming in terror. Attempting to calm it, he dropped the backpack and held him in both arms, looking down at its purplish skin and glowing, yellow eyes.

"Ebon, please," the armed Quarian grabbed his arm. "We need to get you out of here." He had to nearly drag Ebon to the cockpit, his attention fixed on his son.

"Keelah, what have I done?" he worried, shaking his head as he placed the bubble onto the co-pilot seat.

"The right thing," the armed Quarian assured him as he helped get the ship up and running. "Your son's future does not belong with the Migrant Fleet, not as long as his mother is aboard."

Ebon shook his head back into action, taking the pilot seat and getting his bearings for the controls. His breaths were slowing down as he remembered what he was doing this for, and his eyes panned back to the co-pilot seat where the infant lay.

The armed Quarian flicked one last switch and the engine roared into life. "Head straight to the Mass Relay, don't stop for anything. It will take you to the Omega Nebula, and there you and your son can disappear."

Ebon nodded in acceptance, feeling the flight handles in his three-fingered hands. "Got it," he replied.

The armed Quarian nodded and began to exit, but Ebon shouted, "Rael…thank you!"

"Fly safe Ebon'Tal vas Moreh. I promise I will find you again, and if not you…then your son," Rael'Zorah finished before running back to the loading ramp. "Keelah se'lai!"

Ebon nodded and engaged flight once Rael had cleared, leaving the Rayya…and the Migrant Fleet behind.

From the writer of Star Wars Eons…

CoyoteN7 presents…

MASS EFFECT: RESTITUTION

Omega Nebula, 2185

Omega

Turians were built to last, and his enemies knew this. Yet, they continued to file down the boulevard, watching as the freelancers in front of them bit the dust after a loud bang. Each shot he took was expertly placed with lethal accuracy, and the receivers never knew what hit them. To approach his balcony was suicide.

Archangel had set up his encampment atop the second story of a small building in the underworld of the Omega Station. His few years of work as a benevolent vigilante had earned him his name, and the attention of the three major mercenary gangs. One by one, the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse all placed him at the top of their kill lists…the bounty for his head lifechanging.

Killing the idiots charging him was easy, but he wasn't sure if he had enough ammo or energy to keep this up forever. He pulled the lever on his M-92 Mantis to free the spent thermal clip and took a deep breath before looking over his cover again. The keen eyes he possessed behind his helmet spotted movement to his left behind a stack of boxes. With a tight breath he aimed and fired, a perfect headshot. Like clockwork, he ducked back behind his cover and prepared to repeat.

Commotion sounded below on the bottom floor, and he could feel the vibrations of someone running up the stairs. Preparing for the worst, he dropped his Mantis and grabbed his pistol from the holster around his waist, aiming at the top of the stairs. A figure appeared, and Archangel dropped his aim as he realized who it was.

A masked Quarian ran into his encampment and collapsed to the floor, dropping a submachine gun in the process. His three-fingered right hand covered his hip as he crawled to Archangel's side behind cover.

"Ugh!" he groaned in pain, trying to stop the blood oozing from a smoldering hole in his dark blue armor.

"What the hell happened Victor?!" Archangel questioned as bullets impacted their cover.

Victor shook his head as he fought the pain shooting through his body. "Ahh! I was holding downstairs just fine until a Vorcha found its way behind me. Son of a bitch stabbed me in the side!"

Archangel growled in frustration. "Are you going to get sick?"

There was a pause in the conversation, and Victor's glowing eyes could be seen shifting behind the black tint of his helmet. "N-no, I'll be fine Boss. No time to worry about that now!" He then reached back for his Tempest sub-machine gun and gripped it into his free hand. "I'm gonna pump these fuckers full of bullets for that!"

Before Victor could pop back up, Archangel yanked his arm back down. "Stay down dammit!" he ordered. "I'm not letting the last member of my team throw his life away!" He could tell Victor was considering objecting, but was relieved to see him decide to back down.

"Alright Boss, I'll watch your six. Make those bastards pay for every inch they gain!" Victor conceded, and grunted once again as he gripped his wound. Behind his aggressive façade, the wound was taking its toll on him, stacked on top of the hours they had spent camped in this building. Steadily, his vision was getting blurrier by the minute.

"I…I don't believe it," he heard Archangel say, and then it was followed by a stoppage of gunfire. Victor's senses came back to him in that moment.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, unable to see. Archangel pulled his gun down and turned back towards the stairs, and three figures came into view. Victor's eyes narrowed, and one symbol on two of those figures was the first thing he saw.

Cerberus.

His right hand was off his wound and in the grip of his Predator pistol in seconds. "Boss! These bastards are-,"

"Calm down Victor," Archangel eased, taking a seat on the cargo boxes nearby. At first, Victor was confused, but at second glance he noticed a clean set of gray armor with the N7 logo engraved on the chest. The face was undeniable…at least it was close to what the boss had described.

"I'm guessing you're Archangel?" the man asked, his two companions staying behind him. Archangel nodded and pulled his helmet, dropping it to the floor.

"Shepard," he acknowledged. "I thought you were dead?"

Shepard's eyes and smile widened. "Garrus!" he shouted, spreading his arms out wide. "What are you doing here?"

Garrus chuckled, but the exhaustion was clear on his face. "Keeping my skills sharp…a little target practice."

"You okay?" Shepard asked with concern for his old friend.

"Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face," Garrus replied with a hint of assurance. "Killing mercs is hard work," his head then turned over to Victor, who still had his eyes fixed on Shepard's companions. "Especially with my only ally injured."

Shepard keyed in on the downed figure, and quickly realized his irregular body shape…and the wound he was trying to cover. "Jacob," he called to one of his Cerberus companions. "See what you can do about his wound." The African American male in Cerberus uniform nodded.

"I'm on it," he complied, and attempted to approach Victor, but was met with a pointed pistol.

"Back off!" he warned.

"Victor!" Garrus shouted. "We don't have the time or resources to be choosey! Besides, you can trust Shepard."

Victor was still hesitant, his eyes flashing from Garrus, to Shepard, and then back to the Cerberus officer holding medigel in his hand. Eventually, he lowered his gun and sighed. "Fine." While Jacob tended to Victor's wound, Shepard continued to converse with Garrus.

"So how the hell did you get all three of the worst mercenary groups in the Terminus Systems to want you dead?" he asked.

Garrus shook his head. "It's a long story. It took a lot of work."

Shepard nodded, looking back to Victor. "Is your friend a Quarian?"

"Yeah," Garrus acknowledged. "Goes by Victor Price, kind of an odd name for a Quarian if you ask me. Says he's been on Omega for as long as he can remember, and his father died when he was only eight years old."

"He's never been to the Migrant Fleet?" Shepard asked with shock in his tone.

"As far as I know, no," Garrus confirmed. "And I've never really bothered to ask why. I found him a year back at Afterlife defending an Asari woman from a Batarian."

Jacob wrapped up the quick fix and backed off as Victor slowly rose to his feet.

"Let's just say the man knows how to fight. Kind of a hardass sometimes, but has good intentions so I brought him on board. He's loyal once you earn his respect," Garrus finished, trying to keep it between them.

Shepard knew Garrus better than most, and if the turian trusted someone, then they at least deserved a chance. He held out his hand to Victor. "Right now, we can't afford to be picky, so welcome aboard."

Victor limped over to shake his hand. "Commander Shepard…the boss has told me a little about you. Glad to meet you."

The woman behind Shepard shifted. "With all due respect, he's not on any of the dossiers, so I'd reconsider taking him on the mission."

"No one's talking to you sweetheart, so just sit there and be quiet," Victor retorted, but earned a slight elbow from Garrus.

"Enough," he ordered, and Victor rolled his eyes in annoyance, returning to the outlook with his submachine gun.

Shepard turned back to her. "I understand your concern Miranda, and we'll cross that bridge later. Right now, we need to focus on getting out of here alive." Miranda nodded obediently, but the Quarian was already getting on her nerves. Nonetheless, Shepard continued to talk converse with Garrus.

"How do you plan on getting out of here?" he asked.

Garrus shook his head and sighed. "I don't know Shepard…I've lost a lot of men today. If it wasn't for you three, Victor and I would probably be dead by now," he hesitated as the memories came back to him, but eventually found the strength to compose himself. "But now I think we might be able to take our chances and fight our way out."

"Sounds good, but-," Shepard started, until the sound of a running engine roared through the room.

"Gunship!" Victor shouted, ducking behind the overlook for cover.

"No one messes with me and survives Archangel!" the intercom sounded from the vehicle before the minigun began to rotate and fire. Bullets ripped through the room, barely missing Shepard, but landing direct hits onto Garrus' shields. The sheer amount shattered his shielding like glass, and blue blood splattered onto the floor before he could hit the deck.

Victor grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled him behind the lip. "Hang in there Boss, I've got you!" Garrus' breathing was getting sharp and desperate, and Victor's eyes told Shepard enough.

"Miranda and Jacob, I need suppressing fire!" he ordered, pulling his grenade launcher from his back. "I'll try to line up a few shots!"

"On it!" Miranda acknowledged, popping over her cover to put a few distraction bullets into the gunship. Jacob followed suit, and the annoyance drew the minigun away from Shepard's direction. Taking his chance, Shepard rolled out of cover and launched two grenades out of the building, praying it would be enough.

Both impacted perfectly and erupted in a brilliant ball of flame as the thrusters overloaded and sent the gunship spiraling below. Taking a breath, Shepard returned the launcher to his back and ran to Garrus' side, whose blue blood covered where he and Victor had ducked to cover.

"We need to get him out of here!" Victor urged.

"Hang on Garrus!" Shepard assured. "We're going to call the shuttle. Victor, you're coming with us!"

"Commander!" Miranda protested.

"That's final! Now, come on! Garrus doesn't have much time!"

Hello everyone, and welcome to my first Mass Effect story! I'm going to be doing a lot of experimenting with this, especially since the rest of the story is going to be in first person from Victor's point of view. I tried to leave a lot of questions about my OC that will be answered in the next chapter (which is over 5,000 words as of now), so be on the lookout for that! If you enjoyed this chapter, please follow/fav and leave a review! Feedback helps me immensely, so I'd appreciate it if you'd leave something! Thanks for reading!