Mass Effect is, sadly, not mine. It belongs to the almighty Casey Hudson and the other guys and gals at BioWare.
Yes, I have played the game. Multiple times. And I am going to have to force myself to put down Dragon Age: Origins to play ME2. This is not strictly canon. I'm just playing around. Enjoy!
SAVIOR
The Citadel. It was a structure that defied everything humans had thought possible only a few decades ago. It was the shining example of Prothean technology, and the headquarters of the powers that ruled the universe. It was the epitome of civilization, home to thousands of members of every known species in the universe.
John T. Shepard, commander with the Alliance military and newly-appointed human Spectre --- the first of his kind --- hated it.
The twenty-nine-year-old solider sat in a bar called Afterlife, slowly nursing the beer that sat in front of him, trying very hard not to run screaming all the way back to his ship. The Citadel was crowded and smelly. And too many people who lived on the Citadel were ignorant, stupid and arrogant, the exact type of person Shepard had joined the military to get away from.
Unfortunately, it seemed as though the majority of those people were in Afterlife right now.
"Hey there, handsome," came a husky voice fro his right. Turning, he saw an older human woman, clearly drunk, sitting on the bar stool next to him, batting her obviously fake eyelashes at him. She was heavyset, probably in her fifties, and wore a tight-fitting red dress that was cut in all of the wrong places. Looking at her rolls of fat hanging out of the side of the gown would make even the most inebriated man hesitate. "You look kinda lonely. Want Mary to show you a good time?" She even ran her tongue over her lips for good measure.
The commander shuddered. "Get lost, lady. I'm not interested."
"Oh, come on, sugar." She was basically purring, moving closer so that her breasts brushed up against his arm. He cringed away. "You look like you need a woman with some experience. Let me show you a good time."
"I said get lost!" Shepard pulled out his knife and held it out in front of him, a scowl on his face. "I'm not in the mood, lady. Go find another man to pester."
The woman's eyes were riveted on the knife, as wide as saucers, he jowls jiggling as her jaw dropped. "Why, you…!" Her jaw snapped shut, and her alcohol-glazed eyes bored into him. "You'll regret this, bastard. Mark my words! You could have had a good night with Mary."
He was gritting his teeth. "I am losing my patience."
Her eyes flickered between him and the knife. She licked her lips one last time, then slid off the stool and tottered away.
He raised his glass to his lips and drained it all in one gulp. God, he wanted to get out of here. Hurry it up, Captain! Else you're going to have to bring your contact to meet me somewhere else. I don't think the Council would take too kindly to their new Spectre opening fire in a public bar.
"Can I get you another drink?"
Looking up, Shepard saw a girl wearing the bar's standard uniform standing on the other side of the bar from him. She had red hair done up in an elaborate knot on top of her head, and had eyes the color of clouds just before a storm. She was beautiful, or would have been, if it wasn't for the massive scars running diagonally across her face. She looked bored.
Shepard blinked at her, trying to form a response, but finding that his tongue was suddenly twisted all around itself.
She waved her hand around in front of his face. "Hello? Is anyone home?"
"Yes. I… Um." He pushed his glass towards her. "Beer. The strongest you've got."
The girl took his glass, a wry smile turning up the corners of her lips. "I'll be right back with that."
Shepard let out a sigh and raked a hand through his hair. That was smooth, Shepard. That girl probably thinks you're a moron. God, but Anderson needs to get back here now.
"Here you go. Strongest beer we've got, per your request." Shepard blinked as a glass was thunked down in front of him. Looking up, he saw the scarred waitress standing there, leaning against the bar, looking at him. "So… You're a solider?"
"I… Yes. Yes I am. I'm with the Navy." He took another swig from his glass. At least this girl wasn't trying to drag him back to her lair. "Commander John Shepard." He held out a hand.
"I thought the uniform looked familiar. My father was a captain in the navy years ago." She took his hand in hers, responding to his grip with a surprisingly strong one of her own. "I'm Emilynne Cohen, Emmy to my friends. What brings you to a place like ---"
"Emmy!" A very angry, very male voice shouted out across the bar. "Stop bothering the customers and get back to work. You're not going to make any money by just standing there."
Shepard watched as the waitress visibly cringed, then let out a sigh. "Well, I guess that's my cue. I better get back to the other drunks who are just looking for an excuse to grope me. If you need anything else, let me know. Enjoy your beer."
With that, she pushed away from the bar and moved off. Shepard watched her leave, noticing the numerous patrons who called out lewd remarks to her and reached out to try and grab her in any private place they could reach.
Shepard took another drink, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat. I've got to get out of here, get away from these people. Damn the captain. He can radio me when he's got his information.
The commander reached into his pocket and pulled out a few credits, enough to cover his bill plus some. His waitress had looked like she could use something to brighten up her day. His head was starting to pound in time with the music that was blasting throughout the bar.
Just as he was about to put the money down, the bar stool next to him shifted again. He turned, already ready to face yet another would-be paramour. Maybe even Mary, trying again after a few more drinks. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with an older black man, dressed in a Navy uniform.
The wave of relief that washed through him was so great that he almost fell into the floor. "It's about time you got back," he growled, slapping the money down on the bar. "This place is like my own personal hell. I was getting ready to leave without you."
"Sorry about that, Shepard," Captain Anderson, Shepard's CO, said, not sounding sorry at all as he reached over and finished the contents of Shepard's glass. "My source didn't want to talk, so I had to be… persuasive. But I got the information I need, so we can ---"
The captain was interrupted as a loud shot rang out across the bar. For a long moment, the only sound was the thumping music. Then a scream echoed through the room.
Panic erupted almost immediately, especially when more shots followed. Shepard let his training and long years of experience take over as he threw himself across the bar, ducking down behind it as he pulled his weapon out of its holster. There was a grunt, and Anderson was beside him, gun in hand. "And here you were thinking this place couldn't be any worse."
"What's going on, sir?" Shepard had to yell to be heard over the screams and shots. He checked his gun to make sure it was fully powered. "I don't suppose a dive like this checks non-military personal for weapons when they walk through the door. Why should they? As long as these bastards are spending money, who cares if they have guns?"
"It's too late to worry about that now. We've got to find whoever it is that's shooting this place up and stop them." Anderson raised himself up just far enough to peer over the top of the bar. "It seems like most of the gun fire is coming from the left. I saw a large group of people over there earlier, most of them Krogan. I think that's where we should head."
"Sounds good to me." Staying crouched down so that he was protected by the bar, Shepard began making his way around the curved wooden structure, heading towards the area his CO had indicated. I can't believe this. Anderson drags me to this hell hole to get some information on Saren before we can take off after him. Now I'm stuck here because some ignorant brutes decide to shoot at each other. If anything happens and we have to delay our mission, I will rip him a new one, commanding officer or not.
He was vaguely aware of Anderson talking behind him, radioing for backup, I guess. But he paid the captain no mind. His entire focus was on the sound of the gunfire, and picking his way to where they were originating from. Despite his disgust at the way these people lived, he didn't think any of them deserved to be gunned down in cold blood. Especially not the waitresses, who were only here because it was their job.
After another few inches, Shepard noticed that the gunfire seemed to be concentrated in the area right in front of him. He held up a fist, signifying Anderson that he was halting, and slowly, carefully, raised himself up to peer out over the bar.
What he saw made him readjust the grip on his gun.
There were bodies, a lot of them, a few Krogan, most of them wearing the waitress uniforms. Two of the tables had been turned on their side about ten feet away from one another. Behind one of them, Shepard could see three beings, two Krogan and a human, crouching down as they fired across the room towards the other table.
The Marine gritted his teeth as he slowly, slowly lifted his gun up over the bar. I'll fire a warning shot first. If they're civilians, I'll get them back here to safety. If they start shooting back, no one will blame me.
He lined up his shot, aiming just over the head of one of the Krogan. This ought to get their attention.
Before he could fire his shot, however, one of the Krogan's heads literally exploded, sending a spray of blood all over his companions. He slumped to the ground. The other two never even stopped what they were doing.
Blinking in surprise, Shepard's eyes swept back, looking for where the bullet could have come from… then nearly fell over in shock.
It was his waitress, Emmy. She was lying on the ground, ducked down behind a body, smoke still curling from the gun she had fired. Before the commander could even think, her gun jumped again, and the other Krogan fell beside his companion. What the hell? She's going to get herself killed!
Cursing to himself, Shepard leapt over the bar and ran to where the scarred girl was lying, dropping to his belly beside her and lifting his gun. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed, sweeping his gun around, looking for any immediate danger. "You don't know who those guys are. They might be innocents, for all you know!"
"Drug dealers," was her simple reply. "They come in here all the time, despite how much we protest to Roman, the guy who owns this place. The guys on the other side came in and said the Krogan's were cutting in on their drug turf. They've been threatening to do something about it for months. Everyone saw this coming." She moved her gun slightly to the left and fired again. She was up and running towards the table before the human's body had even hit the floor. Shepard scrambled to follow, not even bothering to see where Anderson had gone.
"Where did you get that gun?" he asked, crouching down behind the table. He was already scouting for anything else they could use as cover, knowing they would need to get closer to take out the other dealers. "I don't suppose you've been keeping that thing hidden up your skirt the whole time."
"Roman keeps a stash of them, mostly for situations such as this. As soon as the shooting started, I went and grabbed one out of the cabinet he keeps them in." She checked the power level. "I should have known something was up the minute those bastards went and sat with the Krogans. We knew that ---"
"Ssh!" Shepard held up a hand as a shout echoed from the opposite end of the room.
"We know someone's over there! Identify yourself, bastard! And tell us whose side you're on."
"My name is Shepard," he called out, still holding his hand out to signal Emmy to stay silent. "I'm a commander with the Alliance military. And I'm on no one's side. Will you lay down your weapons?"
"A military prick, eh? I suppose you think we should just turn ourselves in? Do our civic duty?"
"That would make this a lot easier," he answered. "We could just take you in, nice and quiet. No one else has to get hurt."
"And go to jail for the next few years? I don't think so. Come and stop us if you think you can, commander."
"Sounds like an invitation to me," he muttered, leaning back against the table as he checked the power level of his own weapon. "Emmy, I want you to ---"
"Not a chance," was her sharp reply. "These bastards killed the only friends I have. I'm not just going to sit back until they're all dead. Don't worry, Commander. I can handle myself."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. On my lead, then. One, two, three!"
With that, the two of them rolled out from behind the table and began firing. Shepard stayed down low to the ground, firing at the dead center of the table. When one of the other four dealers moved away from the danger, Emmy picked them off.
It took only a few moments for silence to descend onto the bar again. The first thing that came to Shepard's mind was At least that music stopped. The second one was to turn to his companion. "Are you all right?"
Her elaborate hairstyle had fallen, sending her red hair down past her shoulders in waves. Some of it had fallen across her face, obscuring the scars that Shepard had noticed earlier. Her uniform was torn and dirty. But there were no wounds. Not that he could see anyways.
"I'm fine," she responded, surveying the damage with a hand on her hip. "I can't believe…"
"C-Sec is here," Anderson said, coming to stand beside the two of them. "They'll take care of everything form here on. That was some fine shooting, young lady. Did you serve?"
"My father," she responded, throwing the gun to the ground. "He was in the Navy. He taught me how to shoot."
"We all owe you, and your father, a debt of thanks." He turned to Shepard. "We need to be going. The officers have agreed to let us give our statements via com link. We have to get back to the Normandy. And soon."
Shepard nodded and turned to the waitress. "Thanks for everything. And… I'm sorry for your loss."
She didn't respond, only nodded. Then she turned and walked away, to where the C-Sec officers were suddenly swarming.
"Come on, Shepard," Anderson said softly, placing a hand on the Marine's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."
-----------------
To say Shepard was glad to be back on the Normandy would have been a gross understatement. He sat in the cargo hold, where it was dark and cool, away from prying eyes. He had made his statement to the C-Sec officer via com link a half hour ago, then had gone to the infirmary for some aspirin before heading here. Here, there was no one around. Here, there was no intercom. Here, he could just rest in peace until the blasted headache that had started in Afterlife could go away.
Now if only I could figure out a way to put a bed in here. Then I could ---
A sudden noise came from the rear of the cargo hold, startling him from his thoughts. "Great," he grumbled to himself, reluctantly getting to his feet. "Now we have mice aboard. I swear, is there not…"
The sound came again, this time louder, and definitely not made by any mouse. Acting purely on instinct, Shepard reached for his gun. "Who's there?" he called in the most commanding voice he could come up with at the moment. "Show yourself! And I swear, if you're a crewmember back here canoodling, I will rip your heads off and put them on pikes."
There was another rustling noise, and Shepard was aware of a small, white hand poking up from behind a stack of crates, quickly followed by another one. "Please, don't hurt me," came a soft, feminine voice. "I don't mean any harm."
"Come out here where I can see you!"
The sound of footsteps sounded in the small space, and a figure suddenly came into view. Shepard couldn't help but gape in surprise as his eyes fell on a now-familiar scarred face framed by fiery red hair.
"Emmy?!"
Shepard's headache had now turned into a full-blown migraine. Everything made his head pound: light, sound, movement… And, at the moment, there was a lot of all three.
He was standing in the conference room, leaning against the wall, massassiging the bridge of his nose and wondering if he could convince Dr. Chakwas to give him something stronger. Around him, the crew of the Normandy, including the new members that he had picked up back at the Citadel, were talking amongst themselves. And in the middle of them all stood a lone human girl: Emmy, a waitress from the bar Afterlife. She had ended a deadly shoot-out practically one-handed. Shepard had watched her walk away from him three days ago and thought he'd seen the last of her… until he'd found her hiding in the cargo hold of the ship. Now he had brought in the entire crew to weigh in on what they should do with her. Granted, as the CO he had the finally say, but he thought it was only fair to have everyone else's opinion.
"What made you decide you could just hop on board an Alliance vessal, hmm?" That was Pressley, Shepard's navigator and second-in-command. "Were you just wanting to take a joyride? Maybe see if the Alliance would take you in?"
"No." Her voice was soft, but Shepard could tell just how taught it sounded. She was standing, but kept her hair pulled over her face, and her head ducked, probably to hide the scars that marred her youthful beauty. She was still wearing the torn and dirty uniform Shepard had last seen her in. "I only want to be let off at the next port. I heard the man Shepard was with say they needed to meet back at the Normandy, so I went to the spaceport, found it, and snuck on board. He's the first human Spectre. I knew he had to be going somewhere. I didn't care where it was, as long as it was far away from the Citadel."
"So you just hopped on board and what? Hoped that we would feed you? You had no idea how long it would be before we landed again. Were you going to steal food from us, too?" That was Williams. Shepard was surprised by how sharp her voice sounded. Opening one eye, he saw her standing rigid, arms crossed, glaring at the other woman.
Emmy just shrugged. "It's nothing for me to go for a few days with no food. If I thought I was in any danger of starving, I would have revealed myself, yes. But I was pretty confident that you would set down again before that happened."
"What about your family, your friends?" Kaiden was speaking softly, in that voice that Shepard always thought of as 'brotherly'. "Won't they send someone after you once they notice you're missing?"
"I don't have any." There was no self-pity in her voice. It was a statement, said in a matter-of-fact tone. "My family has been gone for awhile, and the only friends I have were killed back at Afterlife. There's no one to miss me. You won't have to worry about anyone bothering you."
Silence fell on the crew at this proclamation, and even Shepard felt himself moved. He remembered hearing her saying something back at the bar as they faced off against a group of drug dealers who had opened up on each other. "These bastards killed the only friends I have." He felt a sudden kinship with her. He'd lost everything once, too…
"Still, one just can't expect to sneak onto a military ship …"
"We're already going to be taxed enough…"
'What if something happens…"
"Enough!" Shepard winced as his head felt as though it was going to explode with the strength of his words. But he managed to push himself off of the wall and walking through the crowd until he stood before the girl. She looked up, straitened, and stared him square in the eye. He hoped he looked intimidating, not as though he were about to fall over. "You say you only want passage to the next habitable port we land at, correct?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Then we'll give it to you." A murmur started up around him, but Shepard held up a hand, and silence reigned once again. "However, no one aboard this boat gets a free ride. You're going to have to pull your weight around here. What skills do you have?"
She stared him right in the eye, ignoring everyone around them. He was once again reminded of the way clouds looked back on Earth just before a storm. "I'm an expert shot. You saw what I can do. I'm as good a shot as any of you Marines."
"I'm not doubting that. You are very skilled. But so is everyone else aboard this ship. We don't need another shooter. What else can you do?"
He could see doubt creep into her face, though she stayed perfectly rigid. Her eyes darted around as she sought for something that would be useful to a crew that was highly trained. Then they settled back on Shepard, and the edge of her lips turned up slightly. "I can cook. My mother was a classically-trained chef, and I know all of her recipies."
"She has my vote," came a voice from Shepard's left. "Since I seen to have been appointed cook --- and I can't cook for shit ---- I say we take her."
The commander felt his own wry smile twist his lips. "Your vote has been noted, Alenko. Anyone else care to share their opinions?"
"I also say we take her on." That was the doctor. "It would be nice to have a decent meal again. No offense, Lieutenant."
"None taken."
Chuckles were coming from everyone around him, and he even found himself nodding. It was true. Kaidan had graciously taken on the role of cook, an act that everyone now regretted. "Then I take it we are all agreed?"
Murmmurs of assent rose from the crowd. Ashley, he noticed, remained silent.
"It's settled then. We have a new cook." Applause echoed as he held out his hand to the scarred girl, who wore a look of utter relief on her face. "Welcome aboard the Normandy, Emmy."