Neocosmic Kingdom 2277

by Saerzion

In 2186, the organics won the Reaper War, but at the cost of working technology and decimated populations. In the following years on Earth, all remaining space-related evidence vanished, leaving future generations of humans in a retro-futuristic wasteland. So when Shepard wakes to a Neo-Citadel in 2277, she must learn the reason for her dual memories in this cyberpunk world.

- I -

Enter the New City of Lights

"What's your name?"

Consciousness came, the response automatic. "Shepard."

"First or last?"

"I… I don't know."

"Do you recall your parents?"

"James and Catherine. No… not Catherine; Hannah. They were both doctors. Or researchers." A pause. "Maybe… they were military."

"What is your occupation?"

She hesitated as a multitude of conflicting pictures filled her head, but when she opened her eyes, they opened to blackness. "Engineer."

"Are you sure?"

"…Yes."

A long silence passed. "What is the last thing you remember?"

She blinked once, twice, and the nothingness around her suddenly took shape. Awareness developed as all five senses sharpened at once. Lights, colors, and movement dispelled the dark, breathing life into the surroundings that seemed to materialize from thin air. She shook her head to clear it, disoriented by the puzzling scene. And once she steadied her vision, she found herself standing on a catwalk overlooking the neon glow of a bustling city district.

Shepard gaped at the sights, finding the setting both familiar and foreign. The last of the haziness faded away as she leaned over the metal railing to take in the environment. Tall buildings lined the roads of the glittering metropolis, the flashy marquee signs contrasting against the evening sky. Pedestrians and skycars traveled at a constant flow below and around her. The mingling smells of fuel and cigarette smoke permeated the air, bringing with them a vague flicker of nostalgia. She listened to the chatter, to the city noises, and for a few seconds, she lost herself to the hypnotic lights.

"You still with me?"

She started at the sound of the voice, which came from a small device on her wrist. She lifted it toward her face, furrowing her brow at the orange interface until recognition set in. An omni-tool? "Yes."

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Uh…" She gazed around the shifting colors of the streets, but nothing came to mind no matter how hard she searched for a triggering sign. "I… can't remember before this."

"Hmm."

Slowly, alertness morphed into caution, followed by suspicion and displeasure. "Wait. What's going on?" she demanded, examining the omni-tool under a nearby streetlight to learn its features. "Who are you?"

She managed to activate the video feed, but no image appeared on the holographic screen.

"I'm someone you're going to want to be friends with," the voice replied, deep enough in timbre for her to identify as male. "Just a fact."

"Why?"

"You'll see. For now, just get your bearings and kick back. Enjoy the night. Find Charon if you can. He's a grumpy bastard, but he'll keep you company."

"Who is Charon—?"

"Oh, and Shepard? Try not to die."

The connection terminated before she could issue a retort.

Shepard lowered her arm and frowned at the beckoning district. Something is off. None of this feels right.

And yet, for a disconcerting moment, it felt like coming home.

x-x-x-x-x

A hi-tech world of electric streets made her acquaintance as she wandered through the fast-paced, pulsing nightlife. People, human and alien, paid her little attention as she ambled by, either conversing with their companions or preoccupied with their personal communication devices. She glanced at the sky traffic above, which moved in a consistent stream, and at the holograms of advertisements that hovered from the tops of the towering buildings. Everywhere she looked, nothing stayed at rest; the city itself lived in the endless rhythm and motion.

Shepard followed the sidewalk of a particularly active boulevard, where music blasted from the clubs on either side and vendors solicited wares from their computerized stands. A spectrum of colored lights roved over the ground, casting her in various hues as she made her aimless way forward amidst the field of technology. She saw omni-tools and datapads, which she could identify, but also various gadgets both primitive and advanced in design. Odd individuals bearing metallic skin strode with stiff, mechanical gaits, and it took her several double-takes to realize androids and other synthetics walked freely in this place.

Her heavy black boots scuffed the pavement as she stopped at one intersection, which branched off to different blocks featuring similar hotspots. The navy blue jacket she wore kept out most of the chill when the temperature made an abrupt drop in this area. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she deliberated where to go, shuddering from the cool wind that blew curly tendrils of her dark brown ponytail against the exposed nape of her neck.

Shepard's circumstances remained a mystery, and she'd failed to reach the unknown voice through her omni-tool after numerous tries. The fogginess lingered in her head, enough to sustain a sense of detachment from the surrounding activity. Her near-blank memory raised concerns, but without resources or a reliable point of contact, she had limited options for obtaining answers.

Her fingers closed around the credit chit—listing only the name "Shepard"—she'd found earlier in her pocket. Although she didn't know if it had an available balance, she peered around the district until a lofty building up ahead caught her eye. The glowing sign mounted outside the twenty-eighth level sparked a note of familiarity.

The Dark Star Lounge.

She made an immediate beeline for it, grasping onto the first possible clue to her role in this sprawling, enigmatic metropolis.

Upon entering the lounge a quarter of an hour later, she coughed when the smoky interior greeted her along with the thrumming beats of an electronic song. A few patrons chatted in groups near the entrance and at the tables against the walls, but most stood clustered around the bar in the center, where some kind of bottle-juggling show was taking place. She ventured farther inside, catching sight of a digital flyer scrolling across the main vid screen: Makani Blancarte, Dark Star's own Flair Bartender, performing at 2200 GST.

Shepard watched several pieces of stainless steel mixing equipment soar and flip through the air above the bar counters as she approached. The crowd obstructed her view of the flair bartender, prompting her to wait in a vacant corner for the duration of the performance. She scanned the rest of the premises, the ambient blue lighting and sleek decor lending the place a relaxed but trendy atmosphere. All of it rang a bell in the blurred recesses of her mind, and she wished something more concrete would stand out to let her piece it together.

A sudden burst of flame erupted from the middle of the bar, garnering cheers and applause once it receded and disappeared. Shepard guessed it as the conclusion to the flair routine. She hung back while the spectators dispersed across the lounge, noting the various alien races that she could loosely recall but not identify. Once enough bodies cleared the bar counters, she strode toward one of the open spots, thirsty for a drink.

The flair bartender's appearance took her by surprise when she sat at the closest bar stool. At first, she took Makani for a teenage boy of Asian descent, evident in the short stature, cropped black hair, and slanted brown eyes. But when the bartender finished putting away the flair equipment and sauntered over to take her order, the voice that came forth had a husky, feminine quality.

"Hi there. New customer? Kani Blancarte at your service. What'll it be?"

Shepard stared at the young woman, drawing a blank. "Uh… actually, could you check if my credit chit has a balance?"

The other didn't miss a beat as she smiled. "Sure, no problem."

Digging it out of her pocket, Shepard passed it over, the mocha-toned skin of her hand contrasting with Kani's slight tan as the bartender accepted the card. Shepard gazed across the bar while she waited, catching sight of a hulking figure in full black armor at the opposite side. Rows of orange LED lights illuminated the front of his helmet and chestplate, which gave him a conspicuous appearance amongst the more casual dress code of the lounge. The general shape of his frame pegged him as human, although his height rivaled that of the tall, raptor-like people she'd seen around. He leaned sideways against the counter, seeming to analyze her through the orange visor that concealed his eyes.

Shepard drummed her fingertips against a nearby napkin holder, a sense of foreboding entering her psyche as she attempted to redirect her attention elsewhere. Danger ranked first as a viable possibility on her list of hurdles, and she analyzed all modes of exit in case the armored man meant trouble. Kani returned with her credit chit, expression bemused when she handed it back to Shepard.

"Not sure why you're worried because it looks like you're loaded," the bartender remarked, folding her toned arms over the front of her sleeveless blue hoodie. "Hell, with all the credits to your name, you could buy us out if you wanted to."

"Seriously?" Shepard asked, incredulous. "Well… give me something with your best whiskey. Enough to put me in a good mood, but not so much that it'll have me flat on my ass after one drink."

Kani grinned and winked at her. "You got it."

A tumbler appeared and spun over the bartender's shoulder, landing in her hand while the other tossed a liquor bottle into the rotation. Shepard watched the complimentary flair demonstration as Kani mixed her drink together, feeling her wariness ease for the first time. Once finished, Kani scooted the full glass toward her and went to rinse out the equipment, leaving Shepard to enjoy the top-shelf cocktail.

The room capacity grew more cramped as the hour drew closer to midnight. Shepard saw the persisting form of the armored man in her peripheral vision, and she monitored his position while sipping her drink and looking around. The other bartenders, all members of the raptor-(or bird?)-like race, hustled back and forth across the bar area, taking orders and making drinks. Kani appeared to be the only human and flair bartender in the lounge, but Shepard disregarded this detail as her eyes followed the alien staff.

She studied their agile physiology, the way they moved with seamless precision. Something about them seemed more familiar than anything else. Even when working a simple job like tending a bar, their sheer focus and efficiency brought on images of military and security forces. A disciplined race of structure and service, descriptions that formed one word on the tip of her tongue…

"You will only see a turian's back once he's dead."

"Turian!" she exclaimed out loud, finally remembering the name of their species.

"What?" one passing bartender snapped in annoyance.

Shepard winced at her own outburst. "Sorry, I was—" She cut herself off when she noticed the smoothness of his skull. "Wait. Don't male turians have fringes?"

She had seen it, plain as day, so to speak. The alcohol hadn't even kicked in yet. He had been missing the standard male fringe.

Yet, when she next blinked, there it was, clearly in place.

"Yeah, and…?" he drawled, sliding his talons over his fringe. "Congratulations for noticing?"

Shepard mumbled an apology and slouched down, bewildered, as he returned to his tasks. She wondered if she'd experienced some sort of brain trauma that resulted in severe memory loss… and hallucinations. It would explain her alarming ignorance of her own surroundings. Still, she swore up and down that the fringe had initially been absent. She could describe the exact texture of his head before it had popped into existence, and she was certain her mental health had remained intact, for the most part.

Frowning, she downed the rest of her cocktail and set the glass on the counter. Just forget it and order another drink.

However, when she made to flag down Kani, she glimpsed the bartender frozen on the spot, gaping in horror at something behind her.

"Oh, shit—"

"MOVE!" another voice bellowed from the other side of the bar.

Shepard had enough time to identify it as the armored man bounding toward her before a searing pain tore into her back and out through her solar plexus. All senses going into shock, she gasped once as her body went rigid, and she glanced down to find the bloody end of an omni-blade protruding from her torso. Panic spread throughout the establishment, and the blade ripped out of her, excruciating in its exit, as the bouncers leapt for her assailant.

The sounds of mayhem dimmed as she collapsed into someone's bulky arms, and as consciousness slipped away, she already knew she had been murdered.

x-x-x-x-x

"Hello, Shepard. I'm James, the Vault physician. Are you settling in all right?"

She swung her gaze over to the middle-aged man at the open doorway of her apartment, recognizing his salt and pepper hair and pleasant face from the times she'd passed by his clinic. "Yes, thank you. You're the first one who's come to check up on me."

"The other residents are still a bit wary of your presence, but they'll come around," James assured her, stepping inside. "Or, rather, they might be more wary of your friend here…"

"That's Sergeant RL-3 to you, civilian!" the Mister Gutsy unit proclaimed from the middle of the living room.

"I still don't know why the Overseer assigned him as my personal butler," Shepard stated, putting the last of the dishes away and striding out of the kitchen. "A Mister Handy would have been preferable. Maybe one like Andy."

"No, you don't want that one," James said hurriedly as he peered around the interior. "Not unless you fancy needless destruction of your property. By the way, have you been introduced to many of the residents yet? I noticed you weren't at the Founder's Day dinner last week."

Her eyebrows drew together as she reached up and readjusted the collar of her jumpsuit. "I've met most. I just… don't feel quite at home yet."

"I understand. If I may ask, where do you come from?" James inquired. "As far as everyone else knows, Vault 101 has never been opened, so you showing up out of the blue has been the highlight of 2276."

Shepard stared at the linoleum floor. "I don't know. Vault-Tec officials told me I had retrograde amnesia before they moved me here. They said an amnesiac would be safer living in the Vaults than in the Wasteland. I don't know my history at all."

James's features reflected sympathy as he nodded. "That's what the Overseer relayed to most of us who are in positions of authority. Well, if you'd like, I can perform regular check-ups on you to monitor the progress of your memory recovery."

Shepard glanced at him in appreciation. "Thank you. I'd like that. I just hope the extra work doesn't cut into your family time or anything."

Some of the cheer left his countenance. "Ah… no need to worry about that. My family has been gone for a long time."

She floundered for a second, kicking herself. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"No need to be. My hours are open in the morning, so feel free to come in for the initial check-up. No appointment needed," he told her, a slight tightness in his smile as he turned to leave. On his way out, however, he paused and added, "Also, I heard you took the G.O.A.T."

"Yeah, and I heard only sixteen-year-olds take that thing. According to Vault-Tec, I'm pushing thirty-three."

James chuckled in a way that reminded her of fatherly amusement. "Don't worry, approximately zero percent of G.O.A.T. survivors will tell you they enjoyed taking that blasted test. What profession did the results assign you?"

She smirked at the one thing Vault 101 did right by her. "Vault engineer."

x-x-x-x-x

When she came to, she found herself strapped to a seat of what looked like a stationary carrier vehicle. Various displays and interfaces glowed around her in the dimness. She willed her residual grogginess to dissipate while squinting at one screen that read, UT-47 Kodiak Drop Shuttle.

The Kodiak? But wasn't I just in…

Snapping to full awareness, she quickly brought her hands to her abdomen, but felt no pain, found no wounds through her clothing.

"Shepard. What did I say about not dying?" a familiar voice scolded from the vid screen straight ahead.

Shepard's gaze locked onto the image of a bespectacled blond man, who was shaking his head in apparent disapproval. "You. What the hell is going on? Where am I now?"

He glanced around the monitor, as if examining the surroundings. "You seem to be in a shuttle. An interesting choice…"

"Cut the crap. I want to know what's happening. Didn't I just die?"

"Well, yes. And I was hoping you wouldn't get killed so quickly because now that means I'll have to answer some questions," he sighed, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses.

A surge of anger shot through her system, but when she tried to break out of her seatbelt, she realized it had been designed to keep her trapped. "You need to tell me right now what all this shit is. First some kind of metropolis, and now this vehicle. I don't understand anything that's going on—"

"The metropolis isn't real," the man declared. He quirked an eyebrow at her disbelieving expression. "Surely you've noticed by now that some things were a tad off in that place."

Shepard considered it, recalling the unexplainable appearance of the turian's fringe. "It felt pretty real to me. Especially the part where I was impaled."

"The human brain's perception of pain and every other sensory experience is a powerful thing," he replied, bringing his fingers together in a steeple. "A projection attacked you, and your brain, in its infinite logical capacity, decided it would allow you the pleasure of experiencing what an omni-blade feels like going through your torso. Unfortunately, the only way you would have avoided that sensory input is if you were brain dead."

She glowered at him. "What do you mean by projection? And you saw all that?"

He muttered something about needing more coffee and brought a white mug to his lips before going on. "Like I said, the metropolis isn't real. The entire thing is a simulation, and I can see everything that happens inside. Nothing there is real, not the structures, the technology, or even the people. A projection is a simulated individual that interacts with you, be they friend or foe. Only one other individual there is an actual person, and that's Charon."

Shepard remained silent for a moment, struggling to process it all. "Why… was I in a simulation?"

"Because we put you there. There's a legitimate reason, but all you need to know is that you're not in any true danger. Nothing that happens in the simulation transfers over to real life. Except for the things you remember, but that's all."

"'We'… who's 'we'?" Shepard demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Who are you?"

He gave her a humorless smile. "My name is Arcade Gannon. I'm a research supervisor at Vault-Tec Corporation."

Her stomach did a little flip. "Vault-Tec. Wait, I had a dream or a recollection of something right before I woke up here. Vault 101… the physician, James…"

"Ah, so your memories are returning," Arcade remarked, leaning forward as a note of excitement entered his dry tone. "A bit slow for my liking, but it's good to know your history isn't completely lost to oblivion."

Shepard studied the opposite wall, trying to recall as much of her conversation with James as she could. "In my dream, I told the physician that Vault-Tec put me in Vault 101 after determining I had amnesia. Was that part of the simulation, too?"

"No. That was real. The Wasteland is real. Your time in Vault 101, your time in the Capital Wasteland, your time as the reputed 'Lone Wanderer'… those were all real," Arcade told her. "But it seems sometime after those events, you developed another round of amnesia. Which is why you forgot not only your previous life, but your most recent one as well. Someone up there must really not like you."

She curled her lip at him as her patience chipped away. "What does Vault-Tec want with me?" she snarled.

Arcade checked his watch. "Oh, about time to send you back in. Just relax. Charon might actually feel like helping you out this time."

She thrashed in desperation when a wave of drowsiness hit her from out of nowhere, but whatever sedative he had released into the space proved too much for her to fight. "Why put me through a simulation?" she demanded, slurring the last word. "Why…"

"We want you to remember, Shepard," Arcade answered, his image fading as she succumbed once more to unconsciousness. "We need you to remember. Not only 2277… but also 2186."

x-x-x-x-x

"Do you not understand the concept of 'move'?"

Shepard clutched her forehead as the darkness transitioned again to the blue saturation of the Dark Star Lounge. She waited for the rest of her vertigo to pass before peering up at the daunting form of the armored man, whose raspy voice had asked her the irritated question through the breathing apparatus of his helmet.

"Huh?" was her succinct response.

He shook his head and reached out with a gloved hand to seize her forearm. Ignoring her indignant protest, he marched toward the main exit, toting her roughly behind him across the restored calm atmosphere of the lounge. She surveyed the area in confusion as the patrons went about their business. No panic, no ruckus. It was as if she hadn't just been assassinated next to the bar.

"I know what you are thinking. They've been reset," the armored giant said as he continued dragging her along. "Everyone. They won't remember you, me, or anything that happened prior to the attack."

The projections? she asked herself, glancing back at the friendly flair bartender. Even Kani?

And then something clicked. "Hold on. You're Charon, aren't you?"

He grunted an affirmative.

She yanked her arm from his grasp so she could walk on her own. "Who tried to kill me?"

Charon led the way to the elevator at the far end of the level before bothering to reply. "Someone who lives inside you."

Shepard merely stared at him as he set their floor destination, suspecting that an elaboration would come soon enough.

When the elevator stopped, the doors opened to the night sky. She followed Charon onto the roof of the building, the quiet and solitude a welcome contrast from the rowdy nightlife of the ground below. He strolled all the way across and halted at the edge, gazing down at the endless activity of the luminous city.

"I take it by now you know this is a virtual reality simulation," he started.

Shepard came to his side, the cold draft sending a shiver through her frame. "Yeah. I met Arcade. He said I'm supposed to remember something here. Not that I believe I'm cooperating with Vault-Tec of my own free will, but it seems like I have little choice."

Charon watched her, his helmet still disguising his face. "Has anything jogged your memory?"

She shrugged, trailing her vision over the stretch of electric architecture. "A few things here and there. Apparently, I've had amnesia twice over, so I don't even remember much of my life in the Wasteland."

He crossed his arms, a pose that gave him the appearance of an orange-lit ebony statue. "Well, hopefully this place helps. Now that you are here, I'm glad I didn't spend months building it for nothing."

Her eyes shot to him. "What do you mean, you built it? This? This entire city?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yes. From my mind," he responded. "I was brought to the simulation to build this world using my memories of the past. This is not a city, but a Ward. And it is not the only one. Look up."

She did as instructed, and the breath left her lungs at the sight. Across the black, starlit sky, four other enclosed Wards rotated above them, their own inverted metropolises shining as brightly as the one she stood in. Shepard's lips parted as she marveled at the vastness of each Ward, the detail and beauty poured into something that didn't exist. And in the far distance, connecting them, the gleaming heart of the entire construction shined brightest of all.

The Presidium.

"What is this place?" she inquired, although the answer had already formed in her head.

Charon swept out an arm over the glowing expanse. "A Neo-Citadel. Built just for you, ready to be shaped by you, Shepard," he answered, gesturing to the living city of lights. "Welcome to your kingdom."

x-x-x-x-x

A/N: This is a very tentative start to my first crossover, where Fallout is the result of Mass Effect, with a cyberpunk element thrown in. It's a different take on the concept of smashing two franchises together, but I'm hoping it comes across as coherent and entertaining. Or at least not crappy. I'm an optimist. Thanks for checking this out!