Author's Note:-

1. No characters in this story are real. You may have heard some names before but those real people are totally not these people. Thank you. :)

2. Some of the OCs will be replaced by these new humans. The ones I found not having much screen time will be removed from Shepherd's team. Garrus, Mordin, Tali, Legion and Liara will stay. Thane, the Justicar and Samara, not so much. That doesn't mean they won't be there. Just that they won't joining Shepherd.

3. I have a few replacements for above mentioned characters in mind but you're most welcome to suggest personalities. No politicians though, two is enough. :) I think we'll have three or four places. Before I forget, you can totally suggest video game characters, though wouldn't that make this a crossover?

4. Should only be read by those who have a sense of humor. Hopefully, this will be funny.

5. Photo link:- www. publicdomainpictures. ?image=6479&picture=barack-obama

6. Could someone tell me how to contact the moderators? Can't find the Contact button.

7. Enjoy. :)

The Prologue That Did No Evil

Mitt Romney

"Look at that! I'm winning! Finally, the Romney family will rule!" shouted Romney at the television. "My father lost but I will not!"

"But darling," his wife began, who sat next to him but was more busy setting her hair, "This house is bigger than the White House and doesn't have security watching us 24x7 from our own bedroom! Also, our company is more powerful than the President. You are already so powerful, why are you going backwards?"

"No one will stop me! Once I set my eyes on victory I achieve it."

"Darling, you're getting overexcited. Didn't your father lose his election because the job offered wasn't paying much? Why are you bringing this on yourself? You know you need the yearly trip to Aspen and Switzerland..."

"Conqueror of the universe! Terminator of Obama! No wait, scratch that. Terminator of Evil!"

"Vienna, Paris..."

"I will fear no evil!"

"Oslo, oh and I completely forgot, Rome."

"To the White House!"

Barack Obama

Michelle Obama sat down near her husband. He wasn't all happy. Why should he be? Only one presidential election debate to go and he was losing. Just by two points, but at 49 to 51, two points were more than enough. Her husband didn't deserve this. He had done so much for Uncle Sam.

"I hope we win, Michelle, I hope we win." The pain in his voice was too much.

"We will. Now, Mr. President, isn't there something you need to doing right now?" Her ice cold voice jerked him back from depression. She was right, they will win. He was Barack Obama after all, the man who led America through the worst crisis in the 21st Century. Well, the worst economic depression at the very least. Well, mostly led.

"I need to practice my speech," he said and turned towards the mirror. "Fellow Americans, we are moving towards a brighter future," pause for effect, "towards peace, towards progress, towards perfection," pause for effect, "We faced many challenges together, the economy, the terrorists, mother Earth," pause for effect, "but we survived. Do you know why?" Pause for effect, "Because we have something they don't. Conviction."

"Nice, almost fell for it. Wait, isn't that last line from Avengers?"

"I hope they don't find out."

The Presidential Election Debate

"Welcome, viewers," spoke a balding man in his usual stage voice, that made it seem like he gave one damn. The drugs helped. "Welcome to the final debate between Mitt Romney and President Obama!" A thunderous roar reverberated through his ear. People were cheering and clapping and clamoring Goddamn it! No amount of drugs are going to help me tonight. That bastard Cory! He was supposed to do this chore and I was supposed to be in Paris with that sweet ass!

Both Mitt and Barack entered the stage, at the same time but from different side. The met at the middle, smiled and shook paws, and went to their respective booths, perfectly as planned and rehearsed. But the noise from behind him threatened to drown out of effects of the drugs. No! Were's my bloody coffee?! Someone get my bloody coffee now!

"Let's get on with this. First question to Mitt Romney. Pardon me if I get straight to the point here but what do plan against the continued problem of terrorism?" Do I really have to listen to them babble around and throw shit at one another?

"Together," began Mitt from the book he had been given. It was shiny and had pretty pictures. Oh! He loved picture books! Finally the lad who wrote his speech understood how he wanted his speeches! Pictures, ye! Unfortunately, the lad also substituted normal words for some weird words. Sovreign? I think he means Al Qaeda, "we can stop Al Qaeda. We don't have to submit," Reapers? Like terrorists? "To the terrorists. We can beat them!"

The crowd erupted and Mitt felt satisfied. Good, now they see how awesome I'm. He looked at the guy standing behind the curtains, next to him, and signaled Suddenly a voice spoke from a mike somewhere. It was Julian Assange's voice, "I no longer believe that, Mitt." Shepherd? Yes, I'm the shepherd of God! This writer needs a bigger paycheck! After I get mine!

"The statistics cannot be denied," Julian's voice continued, "The terrorists are too powerful. The only hope of survival is to join with them. Al Qaeda is a machine. It thinks like a machine. If I can prove my value, I become a resource, worth maintaining. There is no other logical conclusion." The crowd erupted in a fit. "Traitor!" many shouted. Barack hoped they would all calm down.

Commander Shepard? Oh, lad who wrote this, I couldn't have written better! Okay, maybe I would have but still who has the time? "You were a Army man! You swore to protect us! Then you broke that vow to save yourself!" No pauses for effect were required. The crowd had been won over.

Julian's voice sounded more desperate now, "I'm not doing this for myself. Don't you see, Al Qaeda will succeed. It is inevitable. My way is the only way any of us will survive. I'm forging an alliance between us and the terrorists, between Americans and Muslim extremists, and in doing so, I will save more lives than have ever existed. But you would undo my work. You would doom our entire civilization to complete annihilation, and for that, you must die!" "No!" the crowd erupted, "Mitt will not die! Our President will not die!"

Barack thought they were speaking about him and looked up happily only to realize every single person had their eyes set on Romney. Romney was winning this debate... No, Romney had won this debate, and the election. I just hope I get out of here alive. But some part of him said to him, "You have lost. Why not hog some of the limelight?" Agreeing to his inside voice, he went over to the podium where Romney was and looked at the book he was holding. Romney was busy day dreaming. He stole a glance and came back to his side.

He gave out a big sigh and spoke, "Shepard's... uh, I mean Mitt is right! Humanity is ready to do its part! United with the rest of the Counc- countries, we have the strength to overcome any obstacle. When the Reap- terrorists come, we must stand side by side. We must fight against them as one. And together we can drive them back into dark space!" The crowd shouted more and more. Meanwhile, a certain news correspondent held his head tightly and swore and formulated plans to kill Romney.

Suddenly, Mitt and Obama disappeared. Just straight up disappeared! Oh, what the Fuck! The bald rubbed his eyes and opened them again. Where the Fuck'd they go?! He looked behind him to the crowd. They were stunned for a second before they gathered themselves (or went deeper into insanity), and rushed towards the podium demanding their commander back. "Cory!" was the balding man's last word before he was crushed under the stampede.

January 1st, 2185. Citadel.

"What did you do, Obama? I want my crowd back!" He shouted at Obama who was still in shock. Obama muttered, "Where are we? I don't see anyone."

"[Intelligible Noise]" said a creature from behind them. They turned and jumped at the sight of the Batarian. "Ahh! What are you?!" shouted Obama.

"Ahh! Wait... I've seen you," Mitt flipped through the page. There it was! Weird four-eyed, four-nosed humans! Or aliens. They are from Kardishian... no Carslang... where is this place? New Jersey? He read on. Shrewd businessmen? Ha! Let me unleash my Romney power! "So, Batarian, speak English?"

"I have a name, Human." They are just humans with bad plastic surgery, Mitt. And no manner. Look at him talk back to you. Teach him a lesson.

"Good for you. Now tell me where I am."

"Hey, listen you punk! I'm Eden Hazard! No one messes with me!" He unholstered his gun and pointed it at Mitt. Obama just looked on, recovering from his earlier shock. This was the Earth he knew. It was all so dim blue 2001-sy. Were they even on Earth? Man up, Obama, figure out what's going on and get out of this... place. Get your badass face out, cause Mitt is going to get you killed. You can survive this.

"Listen you mofo," Obama shouted. Confidence, he told him. You've acted like this to CIA agents before. What's a weird human going to do? "I'm Barack Obama and I don't give a slightest fuck about who you, your mum, or your father is! Just tell me where we are!"

The Batarian was taken aback. He didn't know what to say. The guy, and the other one, had no guns yet talked to him like they owned the bloody place. But their dresses, weird. Not from here. Oh shit! What if they're from Omega? What if Aria sent them to kill me?!

"You... you from Omega?" he muttered.

"From Washington, you fool!" shouted Obama. Mitt was still waiting for an answer. No one left him unanswered!

"Is... that bad?"

"Ha! With a gun like that, you wouldn't survive one day!" Obama shouted some of shouting at opponents and CIA directors made this seem like child's play.

The Batarian went weak on his knees. These men were crazy! Best stay away from them. He slowly holstered his gun and started moving backwards. "Listen, wait!" the black human shouted. "You seem like a nice Batarian! How about we make a deal. We won't throw you in jail, you fill us in on the details."

The Batarian considered the option. There was no one option. The black human, Barack, was playing with him. If Eden didn't accept, Barack would probably kill him. He remembered what Barack said about Washington. Oh God! They're like one of those extremist Batarian bastards who break the limbs of their enemies and watch them scream in agony.

"Yes! Let's do that! Let me take you to my mates. But first, you will have change clothes. These look, uhm," don't insult them, don't insult them, "different. I'll buy clothes for you. Scratch that, they won't sell anything to a Batarian. I'll give you credits to buy some clothes." Did I just suggest they were poor? Oh no!

But the two men did nothing. "Okay," said Barack Obama and followed him. But Mitt did not move. No one left him unanswered!

"Come one, Mitt," he spoke but Mitt stayed put. Realizing this antic from before Obama rolled his eyes and turned to the Batarian, "He asked you something."

"Oh! I'm sorry! This is the Citadel," the Batarian said as the Zakera Ward came into view.