In which it all begins...


One month after the devastating geth attack on the Citadel, the galactic community struggles to rebuild.

The alliance fleet made a tremendous sacrifice to save the Citadel Council and earned humanity membership in their prestigious group. Now the Council is forced to respond to evidence that the Reapers - enormous machines that eradicate all organic civilization every 50,000 years - have returned. To quell the rumors, the Council has sent Commander Shepard and the Normandy to wipe out the last pockets of geth resistance. Officially, they blame the invasion on the geth and their leader, a rogue Spectre.

But for those who know the truth, the search for answers is just beginning...

Sahara Shepard was flung into something hard and painful as the blast cut through the ship, and for a few, heart-stopping moments, he was stunned, and all she could do was float. More explosions, getting flung out further, watching her home burn.

She hoped everyone had gotten out safe. She remembered seeing Tali and Wrex. The Quarian had been in a right state, the Krogan pulling her along with one arm around her shoulders. He was a tough, mean old warrior, but everybody knew that Tali was his favorite. Maybe it was because of the shotguns. She'd been hysterical, and Shepard had only caught a few of the words, but from what she'd understood, the first blast had destroyed the MAKO, and everything around it.

"If Garrus had been here... if-if-if he'd still been there..." whatever she'd said next had been lost in the next bout of explosions. The thought of it had made Sahara's blood chill.

The former C-Sec officer had left a week prior, to apply for candidacy to the Specters. A bittersweet farewell; they'd all known they would see him again. But if he'd still been on board... tinkering with that damn MAKO like he usually was...

She was, for the first time, glad he had left. She knew Kaiden made it out, she was so glad... that just left Liara...

He breath caught in her throat. Or rather, it didn't. She couldn't breath! She could hear a vile hissing behind her head, the back of her helmet, her oxygen venting. She tried to activate her omnitool, she could slather some omnigel on the tube... the tool flickered, faded. Damaged, too damaged. Gasping, vision going dark, she reached behind herself desperately, clutching, trying to find the leak, hold it shut.

Damn! She couldn't feel anything with gloves on... stupid gloves! She always hated glove, they made everything impossible. She couldn't feel the leak... they gave her sausage finders... so she... she couldn't press buttons correctly... she was dying because of gloves...

Gloves killed Commander Sahara Shepard.

And those answers will shake them to the very core.


Two year Later...

The Illusive Man threw his ashtray in a fit of frustration and rage, sending it skittering across the floor. He glared at it after it settled, glinting in the light of his holo-background.

They had failed.

He'd just got off a conversation with Miranda Lawson. Commander Shepard's brain had liquefied upon trying to awaken her. Project Lazarus was a failure; they needed a hero now, and reconstructing Shepard's brain from scratch would just take too long; a whole two years more, perhaps!

He turned his glare towards one of the holographic screen interfaces near his chair. Another thing to be incredibly angry about. Earlier, though he was keeping it quiet, someone, or a group of someones, had hacked into the Cerberus data base. And what had they stolen?

Everything on Project Lazarus. And then some; all the dossiers he'd gathered for the dream team he'd wanted Shepard to assemble, all the information about the new Normany-modeled ship they had built, and the crew they had assembled for her. Then, they'd deleted everything on their way out! They had left one thing, though. Three words.

Rogue Thanks You.

He hadn't the faintest idea what these words meant. he'd traced the source of the hack and sent a team in, but they'd merely found an empty bunker with nothing but a piece of paper in it... reading "Love, Rogue." Whomever this "Rogue" character was, they were a professional. Though he hadn't known it at the time, the hack had happened shortly after Shepard's death; it couldn't be a coincidence. It was too convenient for it to be one.

Poured himself a shot and drank deeply. This was a very upsetting day. he looked out at his holo-background. This odd planet scenery had always made him feel powerful. Well, Rogue. It takes two to play war games.

It was bad enough they had more colonies disappearing; now he had a mystery threat to deal with, and Shepard was a no-go.

There was no doubt in his mind now; humanity was doomed.

He sat down, and started typing up a contingency plan for not if, but when the Reapers came. Cerberus would survive. And they would collect.

No matter the cost.


A young woman sat in a small bunk. Her face was lit by the data pad she was reading. Her hair was a tawny auburn color, with a single dark streak of black on the right side, and her eyes were a silver-blue that glinted in the dim, orange light. Her lithe build and broad shoulders, with well-muscled legs hidden by her pants, told any observant person she had been a runner. But now, she was a theif. Ever since the first colony disappeared, she had been gathering information, looking for ways to fight back. They needed a spear. In her hands, was the beginnings of one.

But every spear needed a sharp, strong tip, or it couldn't breach the enemy's armor. A smile broke her features. There was one individual on this list that was more interesting than the others. There was a person here that had worked with Commander Shepard; a Quarian, Tali'Zorah. But there was another individual on here as well, one that connected too perfectly with another associate of Shepard's that she had been greatly interested in.

Several months after the death of Commander Sahara Shepard, a Turian Spectre candidate went MIA; one Garrus Vakarian had not been seen since. But this individual, marked on the Cerberus dossiers as a possible member of the rebuilt Shepard's dream team, Archangel, had surfaced on Omega a short time after Vakarian's disappearance. A mysterious vigilante with a crack team of do-gooders, ticking off every merc group in the Terminus systems. A symbol of hope on Omega.

And according to eyewitness accounts... he was a Turian.

She was good at spotting things that weren't coincidences. And even if it was a coincidence, they could still use this guy. The data mine she'd done had discovered so many useful things. Cerberus might have had good intentions; but stealing the body of a hero right from under the noses of her friends and family, tricking her loved ones into thinking they were burying her, using experimental treatments on her remains? Anyone who did something like that couldn't be trusted. Shepard should have been left to rest. That was what death was for.

She was certain Cerberus had ulterior motives as well. Working from the shadows, investigating the colonies. She'd sent her freinds to the latest colony to be attacked; Freedom's Progress. They had yet to report in.

She flexed her shoulders and adjusted her position. Cerberus couldn't be trusted, no matter what intentions they claimed to have. Which was why she'd started doing this. Being exactly what her alias was; a rogue. Humanity needed to fight back; they needed a crack group of heros and misfits gathered from the farthest, oddest corners of the galaxy.

Every spear needed a sharp, strong tip. And unless she was mistaken... "Archangel" was their best bet. She grinned broadly to herself as she examined the hazy picture of the Turian. There was no doubt now; the shoulder shape was exactly the same, and they were wearing a visor over one eye.

Hello, Garrus Vakarian. I do suppose it's time we introduced each other.

Still grinning, she closed the pad.


Sidonis had never felt so relaxed before. Everything about their last mission had gone perfectly. Garrus was happy, they were happy, everyone was happy. Several of the men were talking about settling down; but he could see it in their eyes. They didn't really want to give this up.

He'd decided he would treat himself to a drink and a new gun in celebration. The rifle in his hands felt smooth, and had the best weight he'd ever felt. He felt untouchable with it in his hands, as he strode through Omega's back alleys. He froze as he heard a sound he'd come to familiarize himself with.

The cry of a Human in pain.

His head snapped around in the direction of the noise. It only sounded like one Human, but he approached the alleyway cautiously none the less. One Human; he probably wouldn't need to call Garrus in on this, but his hand was ready to reach for his comms just the same.

He turned the corner...

And was slammed into the wall. His hand reached for his comms, but the Krogan who had knocked his gun out of his hands and pinned him against the wall grabbed his wrist so hard, he though it might break.

"Don't even think about it, Turian." he spat the last word out like it was poison. More mercs appeared from the shadows, and Sidonis felt something black open up in his stomach.

This was not good.

"If you know what's good for you... you'll do as we say."


Okay, so I did a little revision of this, and added some stuff to fit in with the ret of the story more. I felt I needed a little more hook in the beginning chapter of this.

Let me know what you guys think of this and whatnot.

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