The Test: Prologue

Alive. Eyes flashing open, nostrils flaring and mouth gasping for breath, all five of his senses came flooding back. Like lightning to metal, he became aware of several things. Instantly.

The glaring sun overhead. A lush canopy of trees, vibrant and green. Humidity so great that every inhale felt as if he were breathing through a straw, dry phlegm coating his throat. Twitching his fingers, he could grasp and feel the thin grass beneath him. Like whiskers on a cat.

Suddenly, despair takes hold of him.

No. This is all wrong. I died. So how the hell am I… here?

The vacuum of space had consumed him whole in the Normandy's destruction. It was impossible for him to be alive. The chances of survival were nonexistent. He remembered running out of oxygen. That horrible choking, guttering death. Floating and flailing without control at the very mercy of time and space...

And yet, here he lay.

Perplexed, he did not move. Staring up through the dense network of leaves and branches, he could see the sun. And it was real. So very real. He could feel the sun's warm embrace on his face, sweat trickling down his brow. Closing his eyes and inhaling deep, he held his breath.

It's fake. This is not real. I'm… in heaven? Hell? Jesus Christ, where am I? Maybe when I open my eyes I'll be elsewhere. Or…

Upon opening his eyes and exhaling, nothing had changed. Surprised, he lifts his head to peer down the length of his body. Again, he's surprised. He still wore his red-black N7 armor from the neck down. The only thing missing was his helmet; but given his circumstances, that seemed to be a useless observation. Dropping his head back into the grass, he swallows hard and brings his wrist to eye level. Curious, he taps his gauntlet and pales when his omni-tool blares to life. Brilliant orange, the interface appears intact and functional.

If my omni-tool is working… then I can figure out where I am!

Excited fingers swiping through the utility, he reaches the galaxy map and taps the locator icon. The interface pings and starts flashing. The ridiculous load time hasn't changed either, he reflects as his heart starts beating. In an agonizing forty seconds, the omni-tool completes its task. Two words appear in a blank orange box: Location Unknown.

"FUCK," he screams out loud, letting his arm flop back to the ground. Letting out several rapid breathes, his mind begins to pace for answers. After a few moments, he brings the omni-tool back to bear and attempts calling Joker. Five pings later, the omni-tool informs him that the voice-call has failed.

"FUCK!" Again, his arm hits the ground and his teeth start grinding.

What good is the newest model if it can't even perform basic functions… Or is it failing because I'm in the afterlife?

After lying in defeat, sweating and thinking for a few minutes, his will returns. He recalls something Captain Anderson had said to him once, "If you want answers, it's best to get them yourself, Son." Shaking his head, a fire ignites within. It's followed by a calm, coursing river of focus, and another a deep breath. For the first time in this distorted reality, John Shepard was beginning to feel like the man he once was. A soldier.

Heaving himself upright to a seated position, his blue eyes scan the undergrowth. Like the vegetation above, the surrounding undergrowth flourished. Wild and untamed. The bushes and ferns were broken every few yards by monstrous tree trunks, coated in neon-green moss.

Never seen that before.

Continuing to examine his surroundings, he spots an extra strange plant to his right. At least four feet tall, spiked, and purple.

Haven't seen that one before either. Am I on Zorya, maybe?

If so, that meant someone had taken him there. The Normandy met its end nowhere near the Ismar Frontier, where the planet is supposedly located. Shepard had never been Zorya.

Groaning, Shepard climbs to his feet and spies something new at the edge of the clearing. Lying in the grass seemingly untouched, is a gun. Alarm sparking adrenaline, Shepard drops into a crouch and surveys his surroundings a second time. When he feels safe, he remains crouched and stalks toward the gun. Once reaching it, his brows raise.

Not just any gun… my preferred gun…

Lifting the bulky Mattock, he tilts the gun on its side and searches for any indication of its previous owner. Finding nothing remarkable about the gray-brown gun, he plants the stock into his shoulder and takes aim at a tree. With the sights intact and the proper weight, Shepard concludes that the gun is the real deal. He takes one step closer to the undergrowth and stops, his muscles threatening to cramp. He forgot something. Clicking the weapon's chamber open, a single thermal clip spits out. Shepard chuffs to himself, reloads the gun, and presses on into the undergrowth.

After walking waist-deep in the seemingly endless jungle for a little more than five minutes, or what he thinks is five minutes; the dense foliage breaks to reveal something his parched throat was begging for. A gushing, crystal-blue stream. While he wanted to run straight to it, basic military instincts held strong in his mind.

I found a gun lying in the middle of nowhere… someone had it before me. Whether their dead or not isn't the question. It's whether they're hostile or not.

Pressing the Mattock into his shoulder and taking aim, Shepard surveys the area with a slow 180 degree sweep of his weapon. He completes the process without noting anything of interest. The stream seemed to go in a straight line, at least as far as he could tell from his current position. The tree line across the stream seemed no different from where he was crouched now. It almost seemed artificial, as if someone had drawn it up on paper and made it reality. And yet, intense humidity, blaring sun, and gushing stream said otherwise.

Bracing himself to walk out into the open, Shepard sighs sweet relief. It's as he starts to stand that he hears them.

Voices.

Instantly, he drops down to one knee and strains to listen. What sounded like two people were rustling through the undergrowth to his left. Turning to the direction of said voices, he readies his rifle and squints. A blur of white emerges from behind a tree, and his heart jumps into his throat. As soon as he can make out delicate shoulders and a feminine face, the person looks in his direction. Panic seizing his body, he drops to his stomach and lets out a small wheezing breath.

Friend or foe? And Jesus Christ, if she saw me…

Thoughts trailing, something else became apparent to him.

If we're in a jungle… and she's wearing white… that doesn't make any sense.

The voices grew louder as the strangers got closer.

"This is insane! How did he manage to—"

The woman cut off her companion, her voice like a whip, "Jacob, enough! We don't know why we're here or what we're up against. So let's stop worrying about where we were before and start thinking about where we are now." The woman must have come to a stop, as the swishing of ferns ceased. "Got it?"

With a groan, the other stranger trudges forward, then stops too. He lets out a huff, "You know what… Yeah. Yeah, I'll be cool. Let's just hurry up and find this guy." Both strangers start moving again, nearing the edge of the tree line. "You sure he would go this way?"

It's when their legs are no longer brushing through vegetation, that Shepard rises again. Through a drooping mass of leaves, he can tell they have their backs to him. Better yet, they're now in the open, away from the jungle's shade and dense cover.

Careful not to make too much noise, and staying low to the shrubs beneath him, he starts creeping through the undergrowth. Keeping parallel to the stream and moving in a crouch, he keeps the strangers in his peripheral vision. Only when he's directly behind them does he stop moving to lean against a tree. Raising his weapon, he finally gets a good look at the strangers. And they're anything but what he expected.

The woman is a goddess. Her lean and attractive figure is covered in a skin-tight, white-black uniform. Matched with knee high black boots and a pistol on her hip, the woman stood at the edge of the stream. With one hip cocked to the side, her stance suggested confidence. As if nothing in the universe could harm her, despite the aim of his weapon.

Kneeling at the water's edge beside her, was a broad shouldered African-American. As he bends over to drink from the stream, Shepard spies the shotgun lying in the sand next to him. He too wore a white-black uniform. And it was tight enough to show off his muscular build.

The shoulders of a soldier. Jacob, I think she called him. And she's… I don't know what she is. But they're on the same side. And they're looking for someone…

Holding his breath, he rises to a comfortable shooting stance against the tree. Weighing his options in his head, his index finger works its way into the gun's trigger guard. It's as he prepares to fire that the woman spins around; her long, sleek-black hair swaying. Seeing her perfect face, the gun lowers. After blinking multiple times and realizing that the woman's gorgeous appearance hadn't changed, his resolve stiffens. As he's raising the rifle to bear again, she calls out.

"Who's there!?"

Her ocean-blue eyes scan the tree line, while her lips remain pursed. She wasn't scared, but she certainly hadn't seen him. Which meant his black N7 armor must be working to his advantage in the jungle's shadows.

Scowling, she taps her partner with her foot and grips what Shepard makes out to be an M-5 Phalanx on her hip.

That's not an easy gun to get. Better to ask questions first…

It's before she can pull the gun free of her belt, and before her partner can stand, that Shepard races out of the jungle shouting.

"Don't move!"

Both strangers stare at him wide-eyed, as if frozen in time.

"I want some answers," Shepard continues, keeping his rifle trained on the woman. She's the larger threat, at least while she grips her sidearm. "But first, I want both of you to disarm yourselves." When neither of them moves, he hefts the gun as if firing. "Dammit, I said throw them down! Both of you!"

Rolling her eyes, the woman does as she's bid, then nods at Jacob.

"Ah come on," her companion starts, then shakes his head. "Fine. Have it your way." Standing slow as a tortoise, he dips his chin to indicate the sidearm at his hip. When Shepard nods his approval, the man pulls the handgun free, and tosses it aside. His thick black brows raise, "There. Happy?"

"Yeah… for now," Shepard says, keeping the gun pointed at the woman. He inches closer to the pair, "Who are you people?" Moments later, he recognizes the orange insignia on the breast of the man's uniform. The same insignia is on the woman's. "Cerberus? Tell me, what brings terrorists into the middle of a jungle?"

"Whoa, terrorists?! Come on man, that's a strong word—," he throws his arms into the air and quits speaking when Shepard turns the gun on him. "Look… we're here on your side—"

"Jacob," the woman snaps, her gaze not leaving Shepard. "Please… Let me do the talking…" she says, as her eyes start to wander down Shepard's figure; as if examining a science experiment. Seemingly satisfied, she makes eye contact and smirks. "Yes, we are in fact Cerberus operatives. My name is Miranda Lawson," she gestures to Jacob, getting Shepard to switch targets, "And this is my partner, Jacob Taylor." Undisturbed by the rifle, her arm falls back to her side. "More importantly… We're here to find you, Commander."

An Australian accent. That wasn't clear until she said Commander. Interesting, so she's Earth-born. And Jacob takes orders from her… so she's obviously in charge. But in charge of what?

"Why are you here to find me? And where's here, exactly?" Sweat leaking down his brow, he blinks and inches further toward the Cerberus operatives. "I've never seen a jungle like this. Is it Zorya?"

The woman arcs a single, thin brow. "While Zorya would make sense, I don't think so. I'm well-informed on most places. The plant life here, and the humidity… it doesn't match what we would be experiencing on Zorya. To be quite honest, I don't have any idea where we are. My partner and I received our assignment and were kidnapped shortly after. This place…" her eyes scan the trees behind him as if she were mesmerized, "Is where we ended up."

"Wait just a damn minute, kidnapped? By who? Why? Were you in hostile territory?"

Jacob lowers his arms, "Easy. We're all in this together. Whatever this…" he gulps, "is."

"Commander, we're just as confused as you are," the woman says, cocking one hip to the side. She swipes at a strand of hair sticking to her forehead. "You're Commander Shepard, right?"

Growing suspicious, Shepard tightens his grip on the gun.

"Yeah, that's me." Mind racing, he glances down at the two handguns lying in the grass. "You're well-armed for being kidnapped. Any idea why they would let you keep your weapons?"

Miranda shrugs. "Unfortunately, no. The point I'm trying to make here, Commander, is that we're just as lost as you are. Jacob's right, we're in this predicament together."

"The only ironic part is that you were our assignment," Jacob adds, folding his arms. He frowns, his goatee dripping with what can only be sweat. Nerves were gnawing at him. "Our higher-ups gave us the order to go out and find you."

But I've been… dead…

"Once we heard you were alive," Miranda starts, getting his full attention, "We were told to find you. It shouldn't be a surprise that Cerberus was one of the first organizations to hear of your… revival."

"Okay…" Shepard says, turning his head to look upstream. About twenty yards away, he can see where the stream finally curves. There he can make out rock beds along the stream, and less jungle. In the far distance, mountains reaching to the heavens. "While I get the irony, I was kind of hoping to figure out how I'm alive." His eyes lock onto Miranda's. "You know, since I was dead and all."

"And what I'm telling you Commander, is we don't have that information." Miranda sighs, then tilts her head to the sky. "Shit, this sun is bloody hot. Can we please wrap this up and get back under some shade?"

"Not until I'm finished," Shepard replies, finally relaxing his grip. The gushing stream's gentle melody was a paradox to the intensity of their situation. "How do I know I can trust you? Because right now, pulling the trigger seems like an easier option. In case you two are unaware, Cerberus and I don't get along."

Miranda closes her eyes and smiles. After taking a few seconds to soak in the sun she just complained about, she sighs.

"You can trust us because we've been kidnapped." She opens her eyes and meets his gaze. "Commander, what's the last thing you remember?"

The last thing I remember… Is… Well, it's dying… in space

Gritting his teeth, he allows the rifle to sink and point at his feet. "The last thing I remember is dying," he mutters, then looks downstream. From what he can see, the stream travels in a straight path for almost a hundred yards, then bends into the jungle. "What about you two?"

"We were supposed to be boarding a shuttle," Miranda replies, walking towards him. "Then there was a bright light… and we—"

"—Woke up here," Jacobs finishes, as he retrieves his shotgun. He places the folded weapon against his lower back, where it latches onto a magnetic holster; then walks over to join them. "Same as you."

Miranda gives him a lingering stare, then smirks at Shepard. "I suppose there's a bright side to all this. We did complete our assignment. We did find you."

Shepard chuffs. "No shit." He starts walking downstream and speaking his thoughts, "I've fought a reaper, geth, indoctrination… hell, you name it. But a bright light…" he stops walking and spins back to face them. "That one's new."

Jacob frowns, while Miranda turns her back on him.

"I suggest we find high ground," she says, as she goes to pick up her pistol. "From there we can get a better idea of where we are or at least get a signal." Securing the gun against her hip, she lifts Jacob's sidearm and tosses it into his waiting hands. "And get out of this blasted sun while we're at it… Sound like a reasonable plan, Commander?"

Reasonable? More like only plan.

Shepard grants a permissive nod, which she accepts whole-heartedly. She doesn't detect his reluctance, or at least doesn't mention so. Jacob on the other hand, still seems on edge after the encounter. Regardless, the situation had went from strange to fubar in Shepard's head.

Kidnapped Cerberus operatives, a mystery planet, and a return to the world of the living. If anything, this might just top my list of unexplainable situations.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoes, getting Jacob to flinch.

"Whoa! What the hell was—"

A boom from the same location echoes in response.

The trio looks at each other in bewilderment, their expressions alarmed.

"That sounded like a tree fall," Miranda gasps, her blue eyes wide. "And it came from the other side…"

"Ah, for fuck's sake!" Shepard exclaims, trotting toward the stream. One boot splashing into the shallow water, he turns back to wave an arm at the Cerberus operatives. "Let's go find out what the hell's going on here."

3/25/2019 A/N: Read through the chapter and made a few tweaks. Plan is to resume writing this story!

A/N: Forgive any spelling errors, no beta and I got excited to post this! Hope you enjoyed. I know it's a boring first chapter, but it gives you taste of my writing style. Enjoy and thanks for reading!