**Author's Note**
Having recently completed Mass Effect 2 for the third time, I was left wondering what my own personal dream team would look like, and the answer is a collection of characters and locations spanning many video games, books, and films. The gathering of said dream team and their subsequent mission is the subject of this fanfic. This story is a crossover in the purest sense of the word, not just in characters (everything ranging from final fantasy to star ocean) but also in races and locations. So many times in sci-fi the universes seem empty, but part of the great thing about writing a fanfic is being able to borrow from so many other works. Pretty much every space set anime, video game, movie, etc. of the last 20 years is fair game, from Xenomorphs to Elicoorians, from Jurians to Krogan. All belong to their respective creators, but this fic is mine, and so is old one eye, a character that I created and have been writing and imagining adventures for since before I could walk upright. (although he has had man inspirations, including Blondie [Clint Eastwood] from the Good the Bad and the Ugly, Wolverine from X-Men, Roland from the Dark Tower series, Mad Max from The Road Warrior, and of course Snake Plissken from Escape from New York. I've rated this fic M for some pretty strong violence, language and possibly some sexual content in later chapters. Finally, like most around here I'm starved for feedback, regardless of your thoughts/gripes/suggestions, I want to hear them, I welcome pm's, and if you take the time to write one, ill always find the time to respond. I really hope you enjoy this fic. That's enough from me, as old one eye would say, "Sometimes moving forward is all we have."
Chapter One
The Illusive man took a long drag on his cigarette, the bluish smoke curling around the massive room, the light from the nearby star the only illumination. The Illusive man's eye's, fixed on the datapad in front of him, narrowed, the cybernetic implants in the iris of each eye becoming glowing slits in the dark office. He shifted his weight in the chair, its automated systems adjusting to the movement. Two failures. Two worthwhile assets that had not been up to the task laid out for them, two skilled individuals who had met a grisly end. It was not the loss of life that bothered the illusive man, but the loss of resources. Loss of life was an acceptable part of any mission, but that these men had died, taking billions of credits with them, was totally unacceptable. Men, money, material. The level of waste was disconcerting to say the least. But the prize was worth it. If there was even a chance it could fall into his hands, into Cerberus's hands, then any cost could and should be paid.
The third name on the datapad stared up at him, the soft glow flickering for a moment as a new wave of bluish smoke washed over the datapad's surface. The Illusive man's eyes left the datapad, flicking to the woman standing in front of him. The woman was one of Cerberus's best, her capabilities without match within the organization. As an advisor she was no Miranda Lawson, but she was more than capable enough to fill in for her. But her name was fourth on the list, a fact that she no doubt took in stride, she was loyal to the cause, and loyal to him. If he said she was the fourth best option, she was not going to argue otherwise. His eyes returning to the datapad, resting again on the third name. The Illusive man was now faced with a rather unpleasant choice: resign the mission to failure, and abandon the project, or appoint a non human to lead the operation. And not just any non human either, a Klausian.
The Klausian race had become somewhat famous throughout the known universe, for while they numbered only a few million in total population, their incredible combat skill, coupled with their dazzling intellect, had made them a very valuable commodity. Sadly very few were inclined to get themselves involved in something as morally ambiguous as merc work, but the few who had had become truly famous. As a species they were often thought of as humanoid Krogan, which while a fair comparison for their physical abilities both in terms of strength and longevity, it most certainly did not do justice to their intellect, which on average rivaled the best and brightest in the galaxy. 'Warrior philosophers' was what Klausian meant in their own speech, to wage war, but to do it for a just cause above all else, was their mantra. They were solitary and self reliant, yet powerful and cunning. A truly fearsome mix. In physical appearance they appeared to be very tall and fit humans, their primary distinguishing feature from humans being three black rings encircling their necks. These rings represented bundles of nerves that controlled everything from their incredible immune and defensive systems (Klausians were immune to most poisons and diseases) to their increased higher brain function (and some say, their telepathy, although it has not been scientifically proven that Klausians possess telepathic abilities). They could not use biotics, and no Klausian had ever received implants (none that were known of, anyway), seeing it as a crutch and even an insult to their way of life. And yet from Cerberus's own reports they seemed oddly resistant to the mass effect fields generated by biotics, and their combat abilities seemed to hint at a level of pre-cognition that seemed quite impossible. And it was this natural resistance to both biotics and telepathy that made this choice so plain.
"He was the best man for the job from the beginning." The Illusive man spoke out loud at last, and the woman shifted her tall thin frame at the sound of his voice. "I had hoped our genetically altered agents would have been sufficient. It's clear that was not the case." The woman did not speak, but her eyes drifted to a hovering display screen to the Illusive Man's left. The portraits and files of the two failed agents were there, under the first portrait was a short summary of the man's last mission. The mission had ended when the man had fallen under their enemy's (code named Mantis) telepathic influence and driven his ship, crew and all, into a black hole. The second hadn't faired much better. He had caught up with their enemy on Vanguard III, where he had been reduced to a babbling idiot, technically brain dead from code name Mantis' psychic assault. He had since been repurposed by Cerberus. His crew had fallen into their enemy's hands, and after he had his fun, he had spaced their corpses into the area around the citadel for all to see. A clear statement of sinister defiance against Cerberus' efforts.
Her eyes shifted to the Illusive man's right, where the picture and file on the Klausian now floated. The picture was impressive to say the least. The man's short dark hair framed a chiseled face, a ghost of dark stubble running from chin to ears. A single faint scar that ran from just above the eyebrow under the eye patch over his left eye not detracting from the rugged appearance but adding to it. The one good eye was dark gray, and seemed to hint at an internal fortitude beyond imagining. It gave her a chill to look at it, his face was that of the coldest killer. The Klausian species itself was a wonder, its abilities incredible, its history bloody, the people stoic and as mysterious as they were rare. But among them all this one stood out. Not in the conventional sense, of course, the average citadel alliance citizen couldn't possible know the man, but among mercenaries, organized crime outfits, military groups, and among his own people, he was quite well know. The Klausian name for this man was unknown, as his people acknowledged him only with the honorific of Executor, a title of immense respect and admiration that usually took centuries to obtain. The politicians and officials of the citadel fleets called him by a similarly difficult to obtain title, Specter.
The woman was silent still, but shifted her weight again, a subtle gesture not lost on the Illusive man.
"If you have something to say, I would hear it" He intoned, his voice neutral. He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray built into his chair, his eyes returning to the rooms only other occupant. "You're not in the special tactics and rescue service any longer, in Cerberus we value all input. And after all that's why I called you up here."
"Very well." The woman spoke at last, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of brown hair from her face. "Eight seconds." She paused for effect, turning to the Illusive man. He was silent, his hand returning the cigarette to his mouth. "Three years ago this man, this Klausian, missed killing you by eight seconds. No one else in the history of Cerberus has come even remotely close. People who have worked under you their entire lives haven't gotten that close. But this man pierced a veil of lies and counter intelligence even the shadow broker himself has been unable crack. Back then he deemed your death crucial to peace in citadel space. The fact that he never made a second attempt in no way leads me to believe that his mind has changed in this regard." She took a breath, her eyes going back to the Klausians picture. "Not to mention our conservative estimate puts the deaths of nearly fifty Cerberus agents squarely on his head."
"Personally I think the actual number is closer to a hundred." The Illusive man quietly interjected.
She turned, folding her arms. "I'm being serious."
"So am I." The Illusive man took a long drag. "That's why recruiting him would mean convincing him my life, and the lives of all Cerberus personnel are worth allowing to continue, once he knows what we're after I think even he will agree there are bigger things at stake."
This statement was greeted by a sharp intake of breath. "You mean you're actually going to tell him about the relics?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
The Illusive man gave a grim smile. "You haven't dealt with many Klausians, have you?"
His companion sighed, but didn't answer.
"If I lie, he'll know, if we try and betray him outright, he will be a dozen steps ahead, ready to turn it all back on us. And consequently, if we try to hide the existence of the relics from him, something he already suspects, he will never help us. Of course we're not going to tell him everything, but we have to be forthright enough for him to join us. And if things go as planned there will be plenty of opportunities to…" He stopped. Took another drag. "Well, we'll cross that road when it lies before us."
"It seems like a lot of effort for someone you admit will be very hard to control and even harder to manipulate."
The Illusive man's eyes narrowed again, the glow of the cigarette illuminating his face for a moment. "The prize is worth it. And that means so is he."
The room was silent for a moment. "He's a Specter, and a Klausian. That means he works alone and prefers it that way, your really think he'll change that for us?"
"It won't be easy to convince him of course, but that's why I'm sending you." A hint of a smile played across the Illusive man's face.
"Yes sir." She didn't see any point in arguing further. "Assuming we can get him, and that's a huge assumption, he'll want his own team, he might take some of our crew members, but as for people he'll take into combat, he'd never take anyone we'd provide."
"That's not your concern. For now you need to concentrate on contacting him, and convincing him you at least are trustworthy enough."
It was not her habit to speak out after such an obvious dismissal, but she couldn't help asking one last question. "And if I cannot convince him?"
The Illusive man was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room the sound of his breath as he slowly inhaled the cigarette. At last he spoke. "If you are not able to convince him I will be without another asset." He said simply.
Night cycle in the shipping district of Zakera Ward could be a frightening thing, especially since the Geth attack on the Citadel. C-Sec did their best of course, but the volatile cocktail of organized crime and merc bands, not to mention the odd desperate mugger or two, often meant those unarmed and alone avoided the place like the plague. This sadly was not an option for Fael'Elos vas Ornion, who did not have a credit to her name, and as a Quarian on pilgrimage, was shunned by the Citadel society at large. So here, on the edge of Zakera Ward, she lay in the dark recesses of an alley, trying to get some sleep.
After a time she lifted her head, in essence giving up on getting any meaningful rest. She wasn't going to cry tonight, by Keelah she wasn't going to cry tonight. She had to be strong, finish her pilgrimage and return to her family back at the migrant fleet. But it was hard, everyone here treated her like the lowest filth in the universe, C-Sec was suspicious of her, the citizenry ignored her, and the criminal element, if they found her in their territory, would enjoy killing her. Maybe she should try and head to the shelter after all? She knew if she went she would be taunted and spit on by the other homeless of the Citadel, but maybe that was better than worrying about what would happen to her if… no she couldn't even think of it. She ran her hand over the faceplate of her enviro suit, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape.
"No, no, no…" She whispered. She couldn't break down now. She had to be brave, like her grandfather. Why did it have to be this hard? Why couldn't she just go home?
She focused everything she had into strengthening her resolve, to stop the tears from coming, and if she hadn't been trying so hard to stop these sobs, she would have seen them. Three bulky figures came through the gloom, moving through the alleyway at a fast walk, their thick armor making soft noises in the confined space. The first of the three figures, a Batarian, swore loudly as he stumbled over her outstretched leg.
"The fuck do we have here?" Said the second in line, the human curse word indicating the race of the second figure. "A goddamned mask breather, in Blue Suns territory?"
The Batarian had caught himself on the opposite wall. As he straightened up, Fael was nearly paralyzed with fear at what she saw. The white and blue emblem of the Blue Suns mercenary band was visible across his chest plate in the dim light, as was an immense assault rifle strapped to the Batarian's back.
"You little rat…" The Batarian began, turning to face Fael as he did. Without breaking her gaze he continued. "No offense, Yar."
The third in the group, a Roakian with distinctive rat like features snarled down at her. "None taken, Sarel. Let's frag this bitch and get back to the warehouse, Shelia will have our quads if we're not back on time." The last was punctuated by a snide giggle, the rat face twisting gleefully in the dim light.
Fael shook with fear. Oh Keelah, it couldn't end like this, it just couldn't. The faces of her family rose to her minds eye, and she buried her head in her hands, too paralyzed with fear even to beg for her life.
"I doubt even C-Sec would care if we put down this sewer scum." The Batarian named Sarel said, pulling a heavy pistol from his belt. "Always wondered what happens when you blow those suits open. Guess we're gonna find out boys."
Fael heard the snap of the pistol as it was cocked. Still unable to look up at the men that would surely end her life, she waited for the end to come.
And the end did come, But not for her.
There was a long, eerily quiet pause, at last Fael lifted her head to at the mercs standing over her.
"S-Sarel?" The Roakian stuttered, his eyes so wide it was almost comic.
Fael's eyes focused on the Batarian, and soon their size widened to match the Roakian's. A thin, crimson line ran across the Batarian's throat, barley visible in the dim light of the alley. All four of the Batarian's eyes had lost focus, and were even now starting to gloss over. With a horrid squirting sound, the head toppled, the off color blood of the Batarian gushing out of the wound. The two remaining mercs stood as if frozen, the impossible nature of what they had just seen rendering them speechless. The human made a half turn to face the still standing body of his companion, and as he did so, an immense shadow shifted with him.
"No, not a shadow." Fael thought, her mind spinning wildly. "A man!"
The glint of some sort of metal caught Fael's eye, and she saw now that a long, single edged blade, a sword unlike any she had ever seen, had been slid into a gap in the human's armor just below the left armpit, the tip of which now protruded from the base of the human's neck. The human opened his mouth as if to say something, then collapsed as the blade was withdrawn.
The Roakian was fumbling violently with his sidearm now, his eyes riveted to the solemn shadow standing over the dead human. With an incredible level of fluidity and grace, the shadow turned as the Roakian brought up his pistol. The blade flashed again, cutting through armor, shield, flesh, bone. The arm of the Roakian was severed, the pistol falling from the now limp fingers. The Roakian reared back, taking a deep breath to let loose a scream of terror and pain. No note was uttered. With a simple thrust the blade entered the creatures alien heart. Death was instant.
It was over now, and still sitting on the cold alley street, Fael'Elos vas Ornion trembled. The shadow turned, a single eye glinting in the darkness. It was not rage, or evil she saw in that eye, but a kind of grim sadness. She opened her mouth but no words came. She tried to call out but she couldn't. Movement above her caught her eye. She looked up quickly, to see a single drop of the Batarian's blood running lazily down her faceplate. When her eyes darted back to the shadowy figure, he was gone.
She sat there for awhile longer, the sounds of Zakera Ward night life barley audible in the distance. After a time she stood up and departed, ignoring the three corpses in the alleyway. She set off in the direction of the local shelter. She would endure their insults tonight, and though she had been more scared in the last few minutes than she could ever remember being, she would not shed a tear. As she departed, she couldn't help but look back over her shoulder, half hoping, half fearing to see the figure return. Nothing greeted her sight but the now empty alleyway.