Chapter 1: Where am I? Wait. Who am I?

With a loud gasp, I wake up. Looking over to my left, I see a ruined metal wall, and to my right a pile of rubble. Looking down, I see that I'm covered in a light layer of rubble and dirt; I raise my hand to my face and it comes away sticky with half-dried blood.

All right, something happened. I don't remember what; must've got a concussion that gave me amnesia. I don't recognize that wall; must be somewhere other than my home. Toes feel like they're moving; might be phantom? No, my leg just moved when I told it to. Same with the other. Alright, paralysis is not a thing. Do I have my glasses? No. Shit. Not looking forward to that.

I carefully brush the debris off of my torso, and

Wait.

Why the fuck do I have breasts.

I'm a guy.

Alright, I'll deal with this later, I have to get out of here now.

Carefully pushing myself up into a sitting position, I deal with my head swimming for a few minutes while I do my best to check for anything broken. I come to the conclusion that at the very least, the right side of my ribcage is bruised, as it hurts to touch and breathe. Maybe it's cracked? I don't think it's broken; it would hurt more than that if it was broken... Right?

I clear the rubble from my legs and prepare to stand. As I do, I can't help but feel at the fork of my legs.

And I have no dick. Ok, I am most definitely a girl now.

Deal with it later, man. Or should that be woman? No, stop, deal with it later.

I roll over onto my stomach and slowly stand up, but when I'm upright, my head starts swimming and I fall against the ruined wall, knocking it down and landing me painfully on my side. Curling up in pain, I narrowly avoid having more rubble fall on me.

An eternity that was probably only about ten seconds later, the pain begins to recede. Uncurling and taking another look around, I realize that I've managed to fall outside; but I've never seen a whole sky be red outside of sunrise or sunset.

Either I'm hallucinating or something is severely wrong. It seems to be a cloudy day, but the only time I've heard of red skies is if there was a major fire recently in the area. And Tolkien, but that doesn't count. I hope.

Looking around, I realize I don't recognize the architecture or any landmarks, although it's very obvious that something has been very wrong, as I see pockmarks and holes in the walls all around, and obvious places where there used to be buildings.

I frown as I think Who in fucking hell was building with metal walls all around here? That's... Odd. I don't remember this at all.

Wait, why can I see this well. I should not be able to read... that...

What.

I've just seen a sign that says "Mindoir Ge_ral Sto_."

Mindoir is in the Mass Effect universe. This must be a hallucination... right? It's not a dream because I can feel pain.

But isn't dreaming also a form of hallucination?

Goddamn it, this philosophy shit is giving me a headache. If it is Mindoir, the only reason for all these pockmarks and holes is that it was just attacked. Assume it's not a hallucination for now.

With that settled, I walk inside the store in an attempt to find some painkillers and water. Food would probably be good too; if this is Mindoir, it must've been recently attacked and I don't know how long I'll be stuck here before the Systems Alliance arrives.

If I'm lucky, they might even have a weapon that I can ste - liberate.

Wait. One of the possible backgrounds for Shepard, didn't they include her being one of the only survivors of an attack by slavers on Mindoir? Could I be Shepard? Please no. FUCK no. I'd put a bullet in my brain if I was the one who had to be the one who was standing in front of the Council trying to prove Saren's guilt, let alone leading a mission to first stop Saren, then stop the Collectors, then stop the Reapers.

I quiet my thoughts as I start searching the wrecked store; I find some Mass-Effect style drink containers on a shelf with a corresponding label of "bottled water" and also find a backpack to put them in. I crack one open and drain it quickly. Despite how thirsty I am, I hold off from drinking another; I know that drinking too much too quickly when you're dehydrated can cause you to throw it up, leaving you worse off than before. Continuing my search, I find a bunch of over the counter meds, including some Aspirin and Ibuprofen. I read the instructions and pop an Ibuprofen dry. I look for medi-gel, but find none; I don't remember if it's a restricted drug or just not invented yet.

Or maybe it's valuable enough that the slavers would've taken it, too.

Either way, there's a small first aid kit and a bathroom. I go into the bathroom to see if I can find a mirror to clean up the apparent cut on my head.

Wonder of wonders, the bathroom is mostly intact, and the mirror is unbroken. There's no running water, but I expected that. Cracking open the first aid kit, I wet a bit of cotton with some of my water and wipe the sticky blood off of my face as best I can.

The source of the blood appears to be a four inch long gash in my forehead, just below the hairline. I cut a strip of gauze and put it on there, attaching some butterfly bandages over it to hold it in place.

The sink is higher than I remember public bathroom sinks being. Either I'm shorter or the sink is higher. Maybe both.

Hair is red, but that might be because of the blood that's been in it. Eyes are green. Huh, this is exactly like my last Shepard. Except she was a Spacer. And War Hero.

God, I hope I'm not Shepard.

No longer looking like death warmed over, although still feeling like it, I walk out into the store again to look for food.

And immediately duck back into the bathroom when I see someone in tan armor with a helmet walking down the street with a decidedly nasty looking weapon in its hands. Thankfully, it had been facing the other way, but it definitely didn't look like the Systems Alliance soldiers in Mass Effect 3, so it's pretty clear that this is either a colonial militia member that somehow didn't get captured or killed, who isn't worried about being seen by any leftover slavers, or this is a slaver searching for anyone missed before liftoff.

No bet on the first one. I'd say probably 99% odds on the second one.

What can I do if he finds me? I could surrender, but life as a slave does not appeal whatsoever. So, what are my resources?

I have 4 full, unopened bottles of water, one half empty, and one empty. I've got a first aid kit with some bandages and rubbing alcohol. I've got a backpack, and I've got the clothes on my back.

Which appear to be some form of overall and a light long-sleeved shirt. With a credit chit in my pocket.

Ooh, there's 25 credits on here!

FOCUS. Probably my only bet if he finds me is to ambush him and get the bag over his head, then beat him with one of the water bottles until he stops moving. Rubbing alcohol will destroy a human liver, but I have no idea if it would have any effect on an alien. Plus, I have no way to crack open his helmet to get it inside his mouth. Also, it takes forever to do so. Not an option.

Was there a knife in the store? I don't remember. It wasn't a priority over water and medical supplies. Stupid. Should've looked for a weapon as well.

Do I dare go out there to look for a knife?

I think I have to. Helmets are kind of designed to prevent blunt force trauma. Really, all I need is a kitchen knife, and shouldn't a general store have one of those? Target and Walmart carry them. Just need to find the kitchen supplies.

I poke my head around the corner, and, seeing nothing moving, slowly move out, keeping below the tops of the shelving by crouching.

And to think I thought the stealth animations in Fallout and Elder Scrolls were ridicu-FOCUS!

Reaching the end of an aisle, I look up and down, trying to find anything that says "Kitchen Supplies" or "Pistols" or "Slaver Poison."

Hey, a gu - girl can dream.

I luck out, and there's actually a rack of knives in a shattered case. I reach in and grab what looks like a gut knife, test the edge, determine it's so blunt that it couldn't cut melted butter, and grab a flip knife instead. I actually cut my fingertip while testing it, so it's plenty sharp. Ducking back into the bathroom, I quickly bandage my cut fingertip and practice deploying the knife so I can maybe do it without thinking. Hopefully. If I actually need to use it, I'll probably be too terrified to even remember it's there.

OK, I'm armed. I know fuck all about knife fighting, but ideally if I need to use it I'll have an element of surprise, and then all I need to do is get pointy end in soft spot. That would be throat or armpit if I remember armor technology correctly.

If they haven't figured out how to make knife-resistant undercoating.

Don't think about that, just hide and plan.

OK. Where can I hide? In the bathroom is the most obvious one, but if they're doing an exhaustive search, they'll check there and I'll be fucked with nowhere else to hide. I'll have to do a heads-up fight with a knife against someone with a gun – and I have no armor, they do. That's a good way to end up watering the plants. I need somewhere with a roof; if they're at all smart, they'll have something flying over looking for people from above as well. Hiding in the aisles is a possibility, if a stupid one. I'd have to be on alert for threats from multiple directions.

I could hide back where I started. Oh wait, that collapsed when I hit the wall. Bad plan. Even if it's still standing, it'll probably collapse if I BREATHE wrong.

I could just sneak out and go to where they've already che

*CRUNCH*

I stop thinking and freeze as the sound of a foot stepping on rubble heralds the entrance of someone into the store. I slip the water bottles out of the backpack as I move the knife into my hand, but hold off on flipping it out for now. The footsteps are getting closer, and I sneak towards the end of the aisle where they're coming from.

If he's going to be coming into the store, I just need to eliminate him as a threat. I either win and stay free or lose and probably die, or I hide and if I get caught become a slave.

The intruder comes up, wearing the same tan armor as the earlier slaver, but not wearing the helmet.

Oh thank god, he's not wearing a helmet and he's facing the other way I think as I jump up from my crouch and drop the backpack over his head, dropping to the ground so that I can pull him back with all my weight. The Batarian cries out in surprise as he's pulled back, dropping his weapon. Expecting the impact, I roll back up, straddle him as he starts pulling off the backpack, deploy the knife and start stabbing at his face and throat.

The first strike slashes open his cheek. The second gets the jawbone. And the third causes blood to start fountaining from his neck.

I stop stabbing and miraculously don't drop the knife as I fall off, too shocked that I'd done that to think for a few moments.

Then my instincts kick in; my fight or flight response is currently geared extremely heavily towards fight. I flip the knife closed and stow it, grab the corpse and pull him out of easy view from the street; thankfully, the blood pool was in the aisle, not in the main walkway. I reach over, grab his rifle from where it fell.

Looks like a standard Lancer-style AR from Mass Effect. No obvious slot for ammunition, so probably still heat-based rather than thermal clips. Trigger and pistol style grip here, stock here. Heat indicator is probably this thing here. Standard iron sights. Ugh. I hate using irons.

Does he have a shield generator? I do a quick search on the outside of his body, but it's not on his chest. With a lot of effort, I roll the dead weight over and determine that if he does have a shield generator, it's integral to the armor, and he's got a good 5 inches on me. The only thing worse than no armor is armor that doesn't fit, so I forgo stripping him of his armor – not that I'd have the first clue about how to do that in the first place.

Alright, I need to move. When he doesn't report in, they're going to start looking along his assigned routes to figure out what happened to him. Liberating another backpack, since the original is now covered in Batarian blood, I re-stow all of the water and the first aid kit. I take a quick look for food, but don't find anything that isn't canned.

All right, that's enough stalling. Time to move, killer.

I poke my head out of the door, looking up and down the street quickly and determining that nobody's in sight. I dash across over to an alleyway, and discover that it appears to be a dead end.

But if I get on top of that dumpster, the adrenaline high I'm still on might let me pull myself over the wall. Every moment I'm still in the open is another chance for me to get my ass killed or captured.

Clambering on top of the dumpster, I realize that my new body is either stronger or lighter than my old one. Probably both, to be honest. I wasn't exactly the paragon of manly strength, and I was carrying around more than a few dozen pounds of extra weight. If I was a farmer here before, I'm probably stronger than I ever was back on Earth.

Popping my body up, I drop over the alley wall and land on the other side. I slowly walk to the end of the alley, and peek out.

That building looks like there was a fight there. Let's just avoid it for now. There. 50 yards down to my right, there's a clothing store. I should be able to hide in there fairly well.

Hell, I did that all the time when I was like five and playing hide and seek while my parents were shopping. Double checking to make sure I'm clear, I just full out sprint in an attempt to make it there quickly.

I make it, surprising myself. I thought for sure Murphy would strike. Probably when I was in the middle of the street with no cover whatsoever.

A voice that very much sounds like the Batarians from the game calls out "Who's there?"

Goddamn it. I just had to taunt Murphy.

I pull the stock to my shoulder, and try to lower my voice, calling back "Is the building clear?"

"Yeah. Nothing but karking clothing that wouldn't fit anyone back home. I'm about to move on to the next building."

He's coming closer, and I step to the side, hiding behind a rack of dresses with the rifle raised.

When he steps out, I pull down on the trigger and about a dozen rounds spew out. His shields spark out after the first four. Whatever recoil compensation was in this thing makes it nice and easy to control; I actually pull down too hard on it and end up dragging the line of fire down. The Batarian lets out a cry that is cut short by the rifle fire.

Shit. That's another hidey-hole go

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

I rush into the back of the store before I realize that it wasn't someone else shooting at me; it looks more like there's a bunch of blue shuttles landing. And some explosions going up above the trees.

YES! THE ALLIANCE IS HERE!

Wait, shit. The Alliance is here. And there are still slavers in the colony. I need to remain hidden or I'll just be used as a human shield. Or as leverage.

I hide as best I can for the next hour until I hear someone speak in English "Hey Sarge, got a Batarian corpse here. Looks like it's fresh. Well. Fresher than it would be if it was from the initial landing. Either there was infighting, or there's someone alive around here."

"Well, call it in then. What was he killed with?"

"Looks like an Assault Rifle, close range. His weapon's still on the ground."

"Probably the same person who knifed the guy over in the general store. He didn't have a weapon on him."

I call out "Hey! I'm in here!" but it comes out as more of a croak.

Still, they hear. The Sergeant calls out "Come out and keep your hands where we can see them! We won't hurt you, I promise!"

I slowly walk out, keeping my salvaged rifle collapsed (during the hour long wait, I'd figured out the combination of buttons you needed to press to collapse it and the one button you needed to press to deploy it. It's actually a fairly ingenious system; there is practically no way to accidentally collapse the weapon, but it's simple enough to do that you can commit it to muscle memory). As I come out of the shop, the Sergeant says "Call the Einstein, we've found a survivor. She looks pretty roughed up, and I want a doctor and a therapist there for when she reaches the Einstein."

====Author's Note====

This is not intended to insult or poke fun at the transsexual community. I came up with this idea roughly a year ago, when I realized that in practically every game I'd played with character creation that included a sex option, I'd chosen female roughly 90% of the time.

Heck, I've actually forgotten what Mark Meer's voice acting sounds like. And I have roughly 900 hours between all 3 current Mass Effect games.

By all means, complain about how I'm misrepresenting trans people. I'll read it, determine if it's going to be helpful, and then either incorporate it or not, depending largely on whether I want to incorporate it.

One thing that I am not going to do is have my character transition to male. I've got an arc in mind where the reason behind this decision will become clearer.

Anyone who reviews will get responded to; if you anon-review or specifically request it, it will be responded to in my Author's Note in the next chapter.