Author's note: Originally, all of the one-shots featured here were posts on a forum in response to pictures I had taken of my character during an ME3 playthrough. After a while I collected a good amount of write ups from select scenes so I decided to post them all here for others to enjoy at any time they wished. Most of the text is original but some of it has been altered for readability.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect 3

Prisoners of War's Design

File Opened - Bio- Mercedes Shepard.

Mercedes Shepard was the equivalent of an Earth duct rat. She had always possessed a knack for sneaking around undetected, a habit born out of necessity, and continually had an ear to the ground. Gangs paid her to sneak into hideouts to learn whatever she could from following and listening in on a target's conversation or she was paid for intellect she already possessed. In her teen years a boy she often ran into on the streets by the name of Taz taught her how to hack high security files, a skill set that became invaluable as she took higher paying jobs in the corporate world. Mercedes thought she would continue to build on the career she had created for herself, that was, until she got in over her head...

Hackett trained his pistol on the intruder in his home, but it was not the seasoned assassin he was expecting. A whip-thin teenager stood frozen over his computer, hiding her surprise with an expression as neutral as a hardened mask

"There's nothing useful in there. The most interesting thing I keep is a banking statement. If you want high security information on the alliance you'll have to break into headquarters."

She heard the threat in his tone, but being unarmed and unable to afford donning armor in her line of work, Mercedes slowly retreated from the computer to the darker corner of the room. The admiral's blue eyes shone in the dull light of his desk lamp as he approached and Mercedes stood her ground, watching intently for the moment the man pulled the trigger. Hackett glanced at the downloading files on his computer then gave his full attention to the teenager, an agressive spark in her eye drawing his attention.

"You know, the Alliance could use skilled people like you."

Shortly after the incident Mercedes joined the military, after being blackmailed by Admiral Hackett, and learned to hone her skills in infiltration to become proficient in combat. Hacking is a primary hobby she often deploys on the battle field to turn enemy machines into her personal army and she often prefers to use her tech abilities coupled with a rapid firing assault rifles to quickly eliminate targets.

-File Closed-

When Mercy came upon Mordin, hailing the elevator to take him up the tower that was falling apart around them, she tried her best to stall him in hopes the structure would collapse before he could enter. However, he saw right through her and whirled to face her, rage filling his eyes. "I made a mistake!"

Mercedes had steeled herself to sabotage the cure but her gut clinched at the words admitting to what had been plaguing his consciousness for years.

She was no diplomat and felt she had no right to dictate the fate of an entire race. A thousand years ago the galaxy had deemed the krogan too dangerous so Mercy agreed with the genophage. It was the same reason she destroyed the rachni queen three years ago, and again – with a bioengineered construct created by the reapers - less than a week ago. They were a species damned a long time ago before she was even born.

"Mordin! This is bigger than either of us! Than-this! I need the salarians; they're the galaxies only hope!"

Mordin turned his back on her, his fist clinched and gait stiff, he refused to stop even when Mercy drew her pistol on him.

"Mordin, wait!" Her trigger finger shook and her vision blurred with white panic. How could she shoot a man so determined to right a wrong? Should she pull the trigger and deny him and an entire race freedom from the genophage curse? Mercy never spoke much with the brilliant scientist but-

"Thank you Shepard."

He was gone, whisked away by the elevator that had been where her gun was still pointing.

"Damn you, Mordin," she murmured. "Don't make me regret this."

Garrus noted the unfocused gaze of his commander as she leaned over the command console, recently cleaned of the dirt from the last mission, but looking even worse without the grime.

"Losing Mordin, I know it can't be easy. Get some rest Shepard," he urged. "I'll notify you if anything goes wrong."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't know if it will matter."

Her sleep was fitful and wrought the voices of the dead until Mercy started awake, feeling sore, sweaty, and shaky. She climbed out of bed to wash her face and stared unfocused at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she had been wrong to let Mordin go. Should she have saved the rachni queen on Noveria? Should Ash be alive instead of Kaidan?

A chime shocked her attention toward the door.

"Shepard, I hope this isn't a bad time- this isn't a bad time, is it?"

Mercy shook her shoulders and rolled her neck until it made a satisfying pop before leaving the bathroom.

"Liara? No, now is fine."

Her asari friend looked her up and down, analyzing Mercy's reddened eyes.

"If you need to talk I could-"

"Not right now."

"But I-"

"No."

"Ok, but if there's anything-"

"Is there something that needs my immediate attention?"

"No but-"

Mercy shuffled to her desk that was riddled with rough drafts from her recent mission report and began piling them into a neat stack. "Then I don't want to hear it right now. I'm sorry. Please just leave me alone right now."

"As you wish, Shepard."

Liara took her leave, her smothering worry following behind her like a mist.

Mercy fingered the papers in her hand and felt a stab of regret for pushing her old friend away, but she couldn't face Liara right now, her tear ducts wouldn't be able to hold up. She crushed the papers, wadded them into as tight of a ball as she could manage, and threw it into the trash before leaving the room.

Mercy paced the crew deck, waiting for her coffee to brew while the ship personal watched her over forks and the rims of their drinks. She felt the weight of their stares like dozens of bullets striking her shield and was glad when the brewing machine drizzled out her dark roast concoction. She took her coffee black and walked to the elevator with restrained haste and found her feet dragging her to the engineering deck out of habit.

"Commander Shepard! I would like a word with you, an hour at most."

Mercy admired Aller's helpful and exceptional reporting skills most days, but right now she did not want to deal with anymore krogan politics.

Mercy pretended to not hear the woman and kept walking towards a door she was becoming oddly familiar with. Behind it she found Javik washing his hands of in his giant sink and eager to provide what information he had learned about the Normandy's first crew.

"I still can't wrap my head around that, reading information like you do," she admitted, truly amazed by how alien the protheans were, Javik included.

He spoke of the cosmic imperative, how the weak die so others can live, and Liara's distinct dislike of his views. Then he contemplated, from Liara's reasoning's, if he might have been something different if he had been born in Shepard's cycle. Mercy assured him he would probably still be a soldier; she couldn't see him any other way. After a pause she asked, "Does it get to you?"

"You and I commander, war is our sculptor and we are prisoners to its design."

The truth of Javik's words bore into Mercy like a seed and spread its toxic roots through her veins, sickening her.

"Maybe not much longer." Her voice grew thicker with each word and a grim conviction solidified in her heart. "We win this and we'll both be set free."