AN/Obligatory Disclaimer: Mass Effect and the characters and elements therein are the property of Bioware and EA Games, and Bioshock Infinite is the property of Irrational Games and 2K Games; any other elements or sources of pop culture referenced in this story are the property of their respective creators/owners. I make no claim to them, and am simply a humble fan using them to tell a story. Any OCs that appear in this story, however, are mine. This includes myself (i.e. my self-insert character, through whose eyes this story will be told); at least, I'm pretty sure I own myself. Probably. You can't be too careful these days (lol :-P).
Right, that's it for the standard disclaimer. On with the show!
Prologue.
The Phantoms: Into The Darkness.
"Guh, why is it always finals week that all this cool stuff comes out?" I massage my temples in annoyance, temptation urging me to leave the massive brick that is my Lit. Theory & Criticism reference on the floor and spend the remaining evening marathoning what I'd missed of Fate/Stay night: Unlimited Blade Works instead. I know I'm going to do it again, ditch responsibility in lieu of absorbing seemingly inconsequential Japanese pop culture and, sure, I'll hate myself in the hours that follow, my brain wracking itself to hurry and churn out some bullshit to hand in for at least partial credit, but it seems futile anyways. It just seems like a momentary debate that has to occur beforehand, leaving a tiny shred of doubt to return to, once my mind is sufficiently full of Ufotable's signature epicness, that forming an educated-sounding sentence is impossible. My eyes drift to the brick, then to the Google Chrome icon staring back at me from the bottom of my laptop's screen, then back to the brick again.
"... Screw it," I decide aloud, saving the Word Doc before closing the window and queuing up my usual anime streaming site. It's going to take a bit to sift through the ads, so in the meantime, I retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. It's not Saturday just yet, and with class in the morning, I can't pour myself a rum and coke in good conscience regardless of how ill-prepared I'll already be in a few hours. No real point in worrying about that now though, and besides, I saved what I had so far and there's only a couple paragraphs left. Maybe some self-indulgent anime watching and a night's rest would work out the kinks in my brain that were keeping me from finishing it properly.
By the time I settle back into my chair, the site's still loading, which is typical, what with the crap Internet services in town. Why a big name company doesn't put down roots here and speed up the bandwidth is beyond me. I mean, it's a college town for Pete's sake! You'd think the university's administration would be all about the latest tech and providing the best service for their students, with how much the campus PR likes to play it up. Heh, yeah right. What am I saying?
The page finally loads, just as the heater kicks in again, the vents reverberating as it sputters to life. I feel my frigid toes curl uncomfortably. Why the Hell does it have to get so damn cold in this apartment? Great, now I have to suffer though cold feet and an ad before I can get to Saber fighting Berserker in an epic smackdown of historical fiction. Idly rubbing my toes together, I turn my attentions back to the monitor, now familiar scenes playing out as they've done for the past month or so as the release of Bioware's latest and most anticipated title grows closer. Images of a fantasy landscape flit across the screen as the camera pans over a particularly brutal battlefield- villages on fire, the clashing of metal on metal as two armies meet head on, a dragon diving into a ravine- and I smirk as a quick nudge of the mouse reveals the title I've come to know all too well, thanks in no small part to catchy soundtracks and great cinematics that make it practically a crime to skip: Dragon Age: Inquisition.
A sudden pang of nostalgia draws my gaze to one of the few figurines that I own, and the only one I allow to grace my desk. Suspended on a small stand by a sliver of transparent plastic, illuminated by a blue LED, is a flat rectangle that cost me $60 last summer at A-Kon. The replica Prothean Memory Shard, while not the flashiest of merch, it was still a big draw for me, even as something of a casual Mass Effect fan. So, I'd caved and bought it on impulse. Maybe not the smartest financial move, but I had to admit, it looked pretty damn cool on my desk. Very cyberpunk, if you ask me; all glowing and floaty.
'Wait, floaty?'
My attention shifts to the model as I drink in the phenomenon of the previously inanimate slab of plastic suspended in mid-air, bobbing slightly as it does. Warily, I inch closer to it, brow furrowing as curiosity usurps bewilderment. Is it just me, or is it glowing in rhythm with the song on the trailer? The arching line of light pulses like a heartbeat in time with the glitching bass and pounding drums of The Phantoms' accompaniment as I reach out for it.
"Somethin's comin'."
The light pulses in time with the words now, yet somehow keeps with the music as well.
"Somethin's on its way."
Part of me is screaming that something's not right here, that The Phantoms know what they're talking about, that I need to leave the stupid sliver of plastic alone, go back to my anime, and ignore it's blatant disregard for the laws of physics. I try, but my arm doesn't want to listen; my fingers are mere inches from the Shard.
"Mountains are crumbling, like statues of clay."
My index finger meets what I expect to be cold plastic, but now feels almost like some kind of metal.
"Somethin's on its way..."
A searing, white-hot pain shoots up my arm from my fingertips, like lava in my veins. A wordless scream catches in my throat, vocal chords unable to produce that particular pitch of agony. My muscles seize and lock up, as though gripped by the worst Charlie Horse I've felt in my brief existence. A brief memory flashes in my head of Section 9's operators from GitS: SAC, overwhelmed by data until their brains fry, smoke and white blood seeping from their pores and joints.
'Shit! Is that what's going to happen to me?'
The fire in my arm reaches my spine and abruptly, the whole world goes black...
Then suddenly everything is lit up again as a battery of images flood my mind, flashing in front of my eyes, my body agonizingly tense as I'm forced by some unknown power to watch this racing madness. The skies over Earth darken, only to be lit up by ominous red lights that blink into existence without warning; a woman, her face contorted in a scream of abject terror before she's melted down to organic sludge in some kind of translucent pod; blue, zombie-like creatures fall on a mother and child, tearing them to pieces; a lone figure of alien origin smiles tranquilly as a blanket of golden dust covers a desert world, fire raging about him; a human figure roars in defiance as a massive mechanical squid descends from the heavens, tendrils outstretched; stars explode while millions of voices call out in fear, only to be silenced as the galaxy continues to turn without them. The most vibrant of these linger at the forefront of my mind the longest: a massive spire, pointed skyward on a forgotten world, overgrown with foliage covered in unnatural blue veins, a shining blue light surrounded by spinning rings at the tower's center. A strange sense of déjà vu manages to bleed through the pain, like I've seen it somewhere before.
'Where? Where have I seen that thing, damn it? And why is this so important?'
Then, thankfully, the visions end. My extremities are mine once more, but they ache so badly I can't move them, and they fall limp at my sides. A strange, viscous warmth oozes over me, easing my pain with its gel-like touch. Everything hurts, my eyes feel like sandbags, and I feel like I've been put through a wringer. I'm just...
'So tired.'
The ooze covers my head and I fade into unconsciousness.
"I told you it would work."
"And again, I tell you that we already know it works. We ourselves are proof that it works, so why must you continue to state the obvious? It's rather unbecoming of you, brother. The real question here is, will he work?"
"Now who's repeating themselves, sister? Besides, the last one worked, did he not?"
"Now you're just being cheeky, and you and I both know that the last one was a unique case. His was a fixed point across reality, constant in each variation, with only minor differences in each iteration. This one is an unknown variable, plucked from another world, one barely parallel to this world."
"But one parallel enough to work. The roots of this world are present in his, and so is the knowledge in his mind. One world's fiction -"
"- Another world's reality."
"And vice-versa. A concept he is quite familiar with, after all. That will doubtless aid him in his future endeavors, help him grasp his place in this world and his role later on when it becomes clearer to him. "For want of a nail," as the saying goes."
"But will this nail be hammered down, or not? Will it fulfill its purpose, or bend after a single strike and be cast aside, unable to hold the house together."
"Well, that all depends on him, now doesn't it?"
"Do you really think he can make a difference? That simply having half the girl's vision rattling about in his grey matter will be enough for them to trust him? There are times where even you have to admit the shortcomings of that boundless optimism of yours."
"How long have we been together, sister? You really need to learn to trust me on these things. Even with the effects of the transference, he will find a way. After all, I did."
"Again, a unique case. Your mind was strong enough, more developed, easier to coax back to sanity. His mind is just so -"
"- Average, but to an extent. Average, yet still young enough, sharp enough, to be malleable, to adapt. And it is that adaptation that will be the key to his success."
What finally wakes me is the sounds of people talking. I still feel it, the ooze, clinging to every part of me like some kind of liquid cocoon. How I'm breathing is beyond me, as it completely covers my mouth and my nose, but I don't feel like I'm drowning.
'Maybe... Something like LCL?'
It doesn't matter. It's nice and warm in here, like lying in bed under the right amount of covers and having made a nest in them. I don't want to get up and do... Well, anything, really. All that matters is...
The muffled voices keep me from finishing my thought and I scrunch my face up in annoyance. Don't these people have any respect for someone else' privacy? I'm trying to sleep here!
'Wait... I am trying to sleep, aren't I?'
That moment of doubt brings back the memories of those horrible images, and suddenly I'm wide awake. What the hell just happened to me?! Where am I? What is this stuff? I try to scream for help, get the mystery people's attentions, but all that comes out is a gurgling sound, and I feel some of the ooze slide down my throat. I start panicking, thrashing around in my gooey prison. The people outside sound like they've heard me, and their voices get closer. I still can't make out the words, but there's urgency in one of their voices. Suddenly, a strong hand grabs hold of either wrist and pulls with so much strength that it feels like they'll rip my arms off.
My hands are the first to taste the cool air of the outside, the rest of me following close behind and leaving me dripping wet and shivering as remnants of the goo sticks to my skin and my sopping wet clothes. Coughing furiously, a disgusting hoarking sound preludes the splatter of bile as I heave a glob of the foreign liquid from my esophagus. Sputtering, a reassuring arm helps me to my feet as one of my rescuers slips some kind of mask over my mouth, the hiss of a respirator accompanying my labored breaths.
'Heh heh, I sound like an asthmatic Darth Vader,' I think deliriously, conscious thought coming back at a snail's pace. Something nips into my bare forearm, but I barely notice it as I hobble forward with my rescuer as they lead me towards some massive, unfocused blob that I assume is a vehicle of some kind. It finally dawns on me that I don't have my glasses on, but my brain's still so foggy I barely even care.
"Easy now, I've got you," my savior reassures me gently, her voice an anchor that keeps me awake as she leads me through the grassy clearing to our destination. "Just keep breathing, and you'll be fine. That shot should help counteract whatever you may have inhaled in the air before we got the mask on you. Eletania isn't exactly a human friendly environment. No worries though, we'll have our medic take a look at you once we're off this rock."
I nod at that, a confirming groan escaping my lips that sounds weird through the respirator's filter. There's an electronic crackle and footsteps behind us, the rest of the group catching up as the blur gets closer.
"Spirits, just what the Hell was he doing in there?" A male voice this time, one that- like the woman's, come to think of it- sounds strangely familiar somehow; there's a distinct flanging to it that causes little flags to go up in my head. I feel like I've heard it before, but my sleep-addled brain can't place it. Too many questions, not conscious enough yet to actively look for answers. "You don't think he's been in there since before the outpost was abandoned, do you?"
"You're crazy, Vakarian," another voice chimed in, female as well. "He'd have to be well over a hundred, and... Well, look at him! No one looks that good at a hundred, even with all the tech we've got nowadays. So unless the Protheans kept him in stasis in that bubble-thing this whole time-"
"He could be right, Ash," the woman carrying me muses through her helmet, a strange orange glow encompassing her right forearm as she waves it in front of us. A series of clicks and hisses follow the gesture, and a black door-shaped hole opens on the blurred vehicle. "Given that this is a Prothean site and all..." She pauses for a moment, I assume trying to piece together her own mystery that's obviously tied to my own. "He may be able to tell us something after Chakwas has a look at him, but right now, we're leaving this godforsaken place. We'll get answers later, Garrus."
With just those two names, realization breaks though. Garrus, Chakwas, and the woman with the familiar-sounding voice currently dragging me along like a sack of potatoes... As I'm gently settled into a seat and strapped in, I find myself forced to confront the absurdity of my current situation. Bizarre as it may be, there's no denying it. Everything feels too real to be a dream: the twinging pain in my extremities, the traces of wet goop that clung to my clothes, the metal harness being pulled taught over my chest, all of it. Somehow, I'd gone from sitting at my desk watching anime in 2014, to being flung 169 years into the future and getting rescued by Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and Ashley Williams of the Normandy! As impossible as it may sound- and even I think its nuts at this point- I'm really in the Mass Effect Universe.
As the Mako's engine fires up, the full gravity of the situation sinks in and I dip out of consciousness once more. 'Way to make a good first impression, Oz.'
Welcome to my new life, now time to see if I survive the experience.
AN: So... Yeah, I finally decided to break down and write a Self-Insert fic. After reading such greats as Herr Wozzeck's Mass Vexations trilogy and iNf3ctioNZ' Masses to Masses series, I was inspired to say that least. It was tough churning this chapter out, what with real-life getting in the way and my casual knowledge of the ME Universe. That, and this is my first story to be written in present tense first person point-of-view, so it was difficult to say the least. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did without the help of my Beta Readers. Shout out to squigglysquid and Rider Paladin; thanks for all of your help guys, much appreciated. I know it's not much, True Believers, but it's a start, and that's the important part. I'll try to have more for you in the weeks to come, time and tide providing. Please remember that real life takes precedent before fun stuff like this, regardless of the fact that I'd rather stay on this as much as possible. Reviews/comments of "UPDATE PLZ," "When's the next update," "update soon," and any variation thereof is not helpful and will not make me go faster. Aside from that request, this is the end of things for now, though I should have a new chapter in the works in the next couple of weeks. Please feel free to R&R as you see fit; constructive criticism is always welcome, trolls get crushed by their own bridges, and flames get put to a more practical use as fuel for incendiary rounds. Until next time, True Believers. EXCELSIOR!
