This is a my first attempt at an SI-story and I have chosen, of course, the Mass Effect Universe. Because it is done so often and so bad sometimes, that even if I screw up, no one will really notice.

No seriously, I do this because I like the Mass Effect fandom and though I also enjoy a few good SI stories from time to time, most of them are seem to be the same over and over again. So I have decided to write something a bit different, with a bunch of OC's who are more or less a parody in themselves.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect nor do I own any trademark or copyrightet material. I just have fun in someone else's sandbox.

Prologue

It was a nice, rather mundane pit of sin and debauchery on Omega, in other words the Afterlife. To be precise, it was a private room in the Afterlife, rented for a game of junk food, booze and dice. There was only dimmed light and the three individuals sitting around the round table preferred it that way, it added to the athmosphere.

There were several sidearms laying around the room, a few guns, two assault rifles, a shotgun and a variation of other weaponry, together with a wild mix of armor, smaller equipment and a few books here and there. Yes, genuine books.

But despite the strange mixture of decor, most people would have most likely stared at the three occupants inside the room. It's not every day you see such a strange group of three different aliens united around a single table, munching on snacks, talking in a lighthearted manner and play Dungeons&Dragons.

"Okay, I know that I said that the Mass Effect Crew needs more aliens, but seriously?", said the stocky batarian as he took a drag from his way too big cigarre. Despite being a member of a rather despised species, this individual looked rather friendly and welcoming. Could be because he was wearing a pink t-shirt too big for him adorned with a cute fluffy unicorn on it. And there was also the fact that he was drinking from a cup with Homer-Simpson on it.

"Well, we're not yet members of Shepards crew", threw in another guy sitting in the room. Like the batarian, he too was dressed in what would be considered late 20th century clothing from earth, that means worn out metallica band shirt. It would not have been too strange on him, if he hadn't been a quarian wearing a dark red and green suit. "And anyway, you have nothing to complain about."

"I have four eyes", the brown skinned, and furred, alien said with a kind off smug smile, as if he was proud of having such difficulties.

"I am stuck in a fucking suit", the quarian countered without missing a beat.

"I have no tits," suddenly the third person in the room said in a matter of factly, kinda bored tone, you could already hear the shrug off shoulders with it. That means, if you could hear it at all.

Both males turned towards the female turian with the geekish glasses, the batarian actually raising an eyebrow. That means, two of them, the two on the left side of his face. "You always had tits before if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, but now they are gone and the only thing marking me as a girl is the lack of a crest of horns and me being as thin as a stick", the lone female answered with what could pass as sort of a sad look. Then she sobered up and leaned back in her chair, the one behind the game masters screen, changing then the topic to something more productive: "Anyway, we have 2173, ten years before ME1 and enough time to become some major kickasses."

"You mean like back in Middle-Earth?", the now-quarian asked with an amused tone. "When YOU chose to switch sides and lead an army of orcs against Helm's Deep, killing us all?"

"You gotta admit, it was fun."

"No, it wasn't", the batarian rumbled. "I got pierced by seven crossbow bolts. Seven! You have any idea how much that hurts?"

"Oh get over it you big baby", the turian teased, snickering slightly. "But no, I did not mean like back in Middle-Earth. Or back in a galaxy far, far away..."

At this the suited alien now suddenly had a great interest in the ceiling, no longer wiling to face his conversational partners. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

There were some more chuckles and snickers and light insults against each other, like old friends tend to do while storming the deep, dark dungeon of an evil warlock intend on raising hell in a peacefull kingdom.

It was always like this in a new world. They would arrive, orient themselves and then make a plan on how to proceed from there on. Sometimes they were alone, sometimes there were two of them, sometimes more. They knew neither the true names of another, nor how many of them there were, nor why it was them who lived through so many different realities and lives and dimensions. All they knew was, that if they had not each other, they would have most likely gone insane uncounted decades ago.

Finally, after long hours of laughing, talking, drinking and planning, they said their goodbyes and left the room one after another. And behind them, said room vanished from existence, like it would always do on this occasions.

It would be the last time the three of them would see each other before setting out to make names for themselves so that they could join Shepard in his or her crusade to save the galaxy. Because that was the plan.

A simple, nice and normal SI-run. No conquering the world, um galaxy, no collecting a harem, no running amok, no trying to turn the main character into a nervous wreck. Just helping the hero to get through the story as best as possible.

This story is as much parody as it is a serious fanfiction, crack and humor as well as drama and adventure. At least, it is intendet as being so.

As you have noticed, the SI's are no newbies to all this. I have decided to create them in such a way to make not only skip the "fish-out-of-water"-clichee, but also because it makes them unpredictable. And because I think it's funny.