John Shepard, Omega Station
"Heard a lot about this place," John grunted as he stepped on the station proper. "Worse than I thought, actually."
"We should watch our backs here," Miranda agreed, also warily looking around.
"Incoming," Jacob said, gesturing toward the armored batarian coming towards them. "Seems we already have admirers."
Frowning, John let his hand drift near the pistol at his side. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the carnifex Tali had given him, but it had a larger clip size. Really rather have the carnifex…
"Shepard," the batarian snarled. "Aria wants to see you. Now."
"Does she?" John cocked an eyebrow. "And why would Aria T'Loak be interested in a dead Spectre?"
"You're not as clever as you think," the batarian said. "Things tend to blow up around you." The batarian punctuated his point by jabbing a finger into one of the deep rents in his armored chest plate.
His eyes narrowing, John's hands balled up into fists, so tight the armor creaked. But, before he could say anything, a man's voice yelled out….
"Shepard, stop that ass!"
Seeing another batarian charging towards him, John's anger pushed him into action before his mind had fully grasped the situation.
John's left hand grabbed the armored man in front of him, and shoved him violently to one side as John stepped forward.
Using his momentum, John's right fist lashed out in a quick jab, catching the charging batarian squarely between the alien's four eyes. The force of the impact lifted the hapless man's feet off the floor as they attempted to continue the direction that his head could no longer go, before gravity caught up to him, slamming him down onto the deck in a heap.
"Ah, good shot, thanks Shepard," a grizzled human said casually as he approached the group.
The man was tall. As tall as he was, John was fairly sure, but older. Not that his apparent age seemed to affect him. Beneath his armor, the man was broad and heavily muscled, his close cropped blonde hair gone mostly to gray. His armor and weapons showed signs of heavy use, but also great care in their upkeep. The man was a soldier.
However, it was the deep scar running down the right side of his face, from his hairline, curving around the clearly cybernetic eye, and ending at his chin, that caught the most attention.
"Everybody seems to have known I was here," John sighed, shaking his head. "Been dead for over two years and within sixty-two hours, everybody is eagerly awaiting me…."
"Well," the human chuckled. "It helps that The Illusive Prick paid me a lot of money to give you a hand. Name's Zaeed Massani, by the way."
Zaeed Massani, Omega Station
Another, goddamn day. Another, goddamn dollar. The particular piece of crap he was contracted to 'pick up' must have really pissed somebody off. Bringing them in alive always cost more.
"Korbbel….you are a really annoying piece of shit, you know that, right," Zaeed grunted as he slammed the batarian against the wall. It was a move he immediately regretted, as the man's breath rushed out of him. Stank like week old diapers.
"We'll have to keep a watch on our backs, Shepard," a silky woman's voice drifted down the hall.
For a moment, Zaeed felt his throat threaten to close up. He could feel the icy grip of the anxiety gripping his heart.
Zaeed's mind began to race, rolling over the last 26 years. It rolled over all the things that could have been. Who he could have been. Except for his own damn….
Luckily, Korbbel decided to be stupid, and took a swing at Zaeed's head, and snapping the man out of his little dream world.
As Zaeed sidestepped the blow, Korbbel took off at a dead run toward where Shepard stood talking with one of Aria's men, Grizz.
"Shepard," Zaeed called out. "Stop that ass!"
Miranda Lawson, Omega Station
Zaeed Massani. Miranda had read the man's file. And she knew who he was. In fact, she had insisted that Massani would be more of a liability than an asset in this mission.
The Illusive Man, however, overruled her. "He has tactical skill and the experience that will help balance the more volatile members of the crew," he had told her.
Well, she sighed internally. I hope it works….
John
"Look, get moving Shepard," the armored batarian growled. "I'm not in the mood to babysit you."
"Shut it, Grizz," Zaeed said casually. "I'm having a conversation. Unless…." Zaeed then turned to look at this Grizz, his eyes narrowing. "You want to push the matter?"
"Uh…" Grizz blinked as he looked between Zaeed and John. "I'll… I'll just be over there…."
"So, Zaeed," John said. "I only had time to give your dossier a rough glance, didn't expect to run into you quite so quickly. You do know this is probably a suicide mission, right?"
"Heh," Zaeed smirked. "Like I said, I'm getting paid a shit load of money. When this is over I might just buy myself a nice little continent. Maybe spend the rest of my life sitting on a dock and drinking beer. Maybe pretending I'm fishing."
"Well," John nodded. "That does sound like a worthy goal…"
"Did you get to the part about the other little thing I need done?" Zaeed asked, his demeanor suddenly much more serious.
John frowned and shook his head. "Didn't see anything in the file."
"Glad I asked then," Zaeed grunted. "You heard of Vido Santiago?"
"Can't say that I have," John admitted.
"Not surprised, he-"
"Please…." the batarian on the floor whimpered. "I didn't do it…."
With a snort, John shook his head as he gestured to the crying batarian. "Did he do it?"
Blinking, Zaeed shrugged. "Who knows. Korbbel managed to piss off somebody. Somebody with enough money to hire me. And for my 'bring them in alive' rates. Bastard led me on an annoying chase, but they always come to Omega. Dumb shit."
"Commander?" Miranda prodded. "Mission?"
"Yeah, right," Zaeed nodded. "Vido Santiago runs the Blue Suns. Whole deal. Trick is, he's taken control of a Eldfell-Ashland fuel refinery. Taken the whole place, and the workers, their families, the whole shit pile. Eldfell-Ashland kinda wants it back. And I have my own things I'd like to...talk...about with Vido."
"Sounds like a deal," John nodded holding out his hand. "Get your gear to the Normandy and meet us at Afterlife."
Shaking John's hand Zaeed nodded. "Will do," Zaeed said as he pulled Korbbel to his feet. "I'll take this one in before he starts to stink up the place."
Zaeed
Standing in the hall, Zaeed watched Shepard walk away. It wasn't the first time he had watched a Shepard do it. But, by god, this was going to be the last.
"Come on," Zaeed sighed, shoving Korbbel. "If you're lucky Garm will just eat you."
John
As the group approached the nightclub, John shook his head and threw his teammates a glance. "No drinking on the job now, guys," John smirked.
"Geez, Shepard," Jacob laughed easily. "You really know how to take the fun out of meeting a psychotic pirate queen in her own lair that just happens to be a wretched hive of scum and villainy."
"Children, please," Miranda sighed.
"Or you'll take this station right around and take us home?" John grinned now, pervertedly enjoying the woman's irritation. As well as Jacob's easy laugh. "See, Jacob gets me," he said gesturing to the man in question.
Miranda, for her part just groaned and rolled her eyes.
Afterlife
"Hold it," another armored batarian commanded as he ran a scanner over John's body.
John stood loosely as he kept his eyes on Aria herself. She had not looked at him since her sidelong glance when he had walked up. Instead she just stared straight ahead.
Aria, herself, was a beautiful woman. But deadly, powerful and intelligent. An extremely dangerous combination.
"If your men are looking for weapons...you might need better guys," John said casually, as he noticed a slight smirk tug at the corner of Aria's mouth. But just for a moment.
Then with a nod, the batarian turned to Aria. "It's him," he said as he stowed the scanner and stepped back.
Only then did Aria look at him. "It could have been anybody wearing your face, Shepard. I didn't survive this long by being careless." Then she gestured to a spot of the L-shaped couch to her right.
"I like what you've done with the place," John nodded, as he made a show of looking around and being impressed. "Poorly lit, large, half clad women and men…."
"Well, I am certainly glad that a dead Spectre approves," Aria said as she turned away from John again, staring ahead. "What brings the Saviour of the Citadel to my door? And with Cerberus, no less?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," John said, leaning back on the couch. It was actually quite comfortable. "Saving the galaxy from Terrors from Beyond Space and Time."
"Are you know?" Aria smirked slightly as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I assume this is something to do with the human colonies disappearing?"
"You're well informed," John tilted his head.
"It's my business to be informed, Shepard," Aria blinked as her mask fell back into place.
"Yes, well," John grunted. "Did you know it was Collectors?"
That got a reaction.
"Collectors?" Aria growled as she turned to look at John fully. "No, I was not aware of that."
"Not on your party list then?" John asked, slightly taken aback by Aria's sudden intensity.
"The last time they came to my station, they caused a bit of a ruckus," Aria turned away again, her look of anger stepping down to a look of irritation. It said something that she was unable to completely mask it.
"Well, in that case…" John started.
"No, Shepard," Aria said, cutting him off with a slight wave of her hand. "You tend to have a lot of collateral damage. It's in my interest to help you get what you came for, then get you off my station as quickly as possible."
With a sigh, John nodded. "Fine, I'm here to pick up a couple of people for my team. One Mordin Solus, and a mercenary by the name, Archangel."
Aria snorted quietly, looking at John for a moment. "You might want to hurry with Archangel then. He's managed to piss off every merc group on Omega. Blood Pack, Blue Suns, Eclipse…The chaos he created has benefited me rather well, but they're recruiting anybody with a pulse."
"I...see," John frowned. "That sounds...complicated."
Tilting her head, Aria shrugged. "Mordin isn't any better. A plague popped up. I had to lock down the entire spire. Mordin's still in there, running a clinic."
"He's running a clinic in a locked down plague zone?" John blinked, impressed despite himself.
"Yes, he's a very...interesting salarian," Aria smirked again. "Brilliant, odd, dangerous. I'm fairly sure he's former STG."
"Why can't anything go easy?" John ran a hand over his face, suddenly feeling exhausted.
"Wouldn't be any fun then, Shepard," Aria chuckled. "I'm looking forward to seeing how this goes for you."
"I'll try not to disappoint, then," John said dryly as he stood. "I had better get started, I have some catching up to do."
"Oh, and Shepard," Aria stopped him. "Your timing is certainly interesting. I think I'll have an...interesting surprise for you soon."
"That...sound ominous," John frowned as he shook his head. "My mother told me never to take gifts from strange Queens of Omega."
"Oh, Shepard," Aria stood with a grin. "You have no idea…."
John, Omega, Commercial District
"Repent!" a batarian called. "The End is nigh!"
John paused and watched the man. He stood on a small crate, so that he was head and shoulders above the bustle of the market lanes. He wore ratty, stained robes of some rough spun cloth. And in one of his hands he held a book that he used to gesture with.
"Humans are a blight on galactic purity!" the Mad Prophet yelled out. "You, sir!" he pointed at a human walking by. "You are a blight! And you! And you!"
The last caused John to blink as he was singled out. "Well...it's good to know I am a blight," John glanced over his shoulder at his team. "I've never been a blight before. Any of you guys?"
Jacob chuckled as Miranda rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound.
"Oh, I have," Zaeed nodded, a serious look on his face. "I was a blight on this one cake shop on Thessia. Still not allowed back there…"
"Which?" Jacob asked, smirking. "The cake shop, or Thessia?"
"Both," Zaeed grunted, grinning.
"YEAH! I'M A BLIGHT!"
A rather loud voice yelled out, catching the group's attention.
"Shepard…." Miranda said, tapping John on the shoulder lightly. "Is that a human cheering for the crazy batarian?"
Shaking his head John nodded in disbelief at the man. "Yes, yes it is," John confirmed. "And I think I know the guy."
It had actually taken John a moment to recognize the man. His dark blonde hair was now shoulder length and pulled back in a rough ponytail. He was sporting a short cropped beard the same color as his hair, and had a pair of wire rimmed glasses over his blue eyes. He was about as tall as John was, and about as broad across the shoulders, but where John was lean muscle, this man ran toward the...softer, side of things.
"You do?" Jacob's eyes widened slightly.
John nodded as he crossed his arms, watching the man cheer the Prophet along. "Yeah, he was on the original Normandy."
"What would a member of your old crew be doing here?" Jacob asked.
"Lotta people end up here," Zaeed shrugged. "Usually something goes wrong and this is the only place left to go. Or he made some fuck all bad vacation plans."
"Regardless," Miranda said, turning away from the Prophet, and his, seemingly, human comvert. "We have other things to deal with."
Frowning, John watched the man for a long moment. Gerald didn't appear to be in any dire straits. His clothes were a simple leather jacket over a loose fitting shirt and thick, overlong workman's style pants that bunched up over his worn Alliance issue boots. However, it was Gerald's shirt that caught John's attention. It seemed to have a 'Battlemaster Gorge' cartoon logo. It caught John's attention, as it was Kelly's favorite show when she was little.
"I'm not going to leave a member of my crew," John nodded to himself. "I have to at least see if he's doing alright."
"Really, Shepard?" Miranda asked, her tone was full of exasperation before she threw her hands up. "You know what? Fine. Let's go chat with everybody on this station. Like this elcor. Tell me, elcor, how are you doing?"
"Startled: I am doing well," the elcor said in his people's standard monotone voice. "Introduction: My name is Harrod. Welcome to my salvage shop. Hopefull: Can I interest you in some of my wares?"
"No," Miranda grunted as she turned away from Harrod.
"Regretfully: Come back again," Harrod said after her.
Gerald Fallwyn, Commercial District, Omega Station
Ah...Tuesday, Gerald thought to himself as he strolled through the Omega markets. At least...I think it's tuesday.
Honestly, being on an alien station in the ass end of the galaxy make it kinda hard to keep track. Not that it mattered particularly. Just like he had no particular reason to be out that day.
"Repent!" Gerald's favorite batarian called out. "The End is nigh!"
Gerald often wondered who the hell programed these translators. Why would they bother to add 'nigh' to the word list?
"Humans are a blight on galactic purity!" the Mad Prophet yelled out. "You, sir!" he pointed at a human walking by. "You are a blight! And you! And you!"
"YEAH! I'M A BLIGHT!" Gerald yelled as he thrust his fists into the air, in a victory pose. It was the pose Battlemaster Gorge always made when he beat the badguy of the week. Normally, Gerald didn't like to stick out too much, but you knew it was going to be a good day when a crazy religious nutjob singles you out as a blight upon the galaxy.
"Gerald?" came a male voice from behind him.
Shit… Gerald thought as he lowered his arms. I hate encountering people I know….
And it was true. Avoiding people he knew had become something of an art form to him.
"Look, I know I owe you money, or slept with your wife or whatever, but i promise I didn't mean to…" Gerald said good naturedly as he turned around.
Then Gerald froze.
Because he saw a ghost.
Like...a real ghost.
"Gerald?" the Ghost of Commander Shepard asked. "Are you alright?"
Then Gerald screamed like a small child.
John
"Gerald!" John yelled over the man's screaming. "Gerald! Calm down!"
"No!" Gerald yelled back. "You calm down!" Taking a step back, Gerald held his fingers up in a cross position. "Back to hell with you, demon!"
Blinking, John stood dumbfounded. He knew that some people would react oddly to his apparent resurrection, but this was a bit over the top.
"Gerald, it's me, it's John, I'm real," John said placatingly. "I swear!"
"Well...fuck," Gerald sighed, dropping his hands. "I suppose you want that twenty credits I owe you?"
"That...that's it?" Miranda asked, shocked. "Shepard just says, 'I swear I'm real' and you go with it?"
Gerald shrugged lightly. "Why not. A giant space tick humped the Citadel Tower, then a spaceship made of rock sees through the most advanced stealth system in the galaxy, then everybody pretends like the shit never happened. Why would Shepard going to ground for a couple years be any different?"
"I…" Miranda paused and frowned. "That's a pretty good point actually."
"Course it is," Gerald smirked.
"Yeah, about that," John sighed. "I was pretty much dead and Cerberus put me back together with a load of cybernetics. Now I am here looking for people to help me stop the Collectors, who are kidnapping entire human colonies out here in the Termins."
"Well," Gerald nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. "Sounds rough. Hope it goes well for you."
"Look," John said plaintively. "I'm on a ship crewed by cerberus. I could really use some people I can trust."
Gerald nodded gravely. "Yeah, I can see that you would."
John let a pause linger in the air before he sighed. "I was hoping you would join me."
"What?" Gerald's eyes went wide. "Me? Why the hell would you want me? I'm a fat guy the Alliance dropped like a hot rock when you died. My wife left me, my kids want nothing to do with me, and my dog died!"
"Gerald," John groaned as he put his hand to the bridge of his nose. "You were never married, you don't have any kids, and you told me you hated dogs."
"Allright, fine," Gerald shrugged. "You convinced me."
"Oh, my god," Miranda cursed. "You seriously want this…" she paused, her hand making a small waving motion as she searched for the right words.
"Suave, handsome rapscallion?" Gerald supplied.
"Moron!" Miranda spat finally.
"I'm sure," John grinned. "I'm going to go into the plague zone to get to Mordin Solas, want to tag along?"
"Right," Gerald rolled his eyes. "I really want to hang out with sick people. No, I'll get my stuff. I assume you have a ship?"
"Yeah, I'll send you the bay and the clearance," John smiled and clapped Gerald's shoulder.
"Right…" Gerald said again.
AN: Again, throwing in some background characters for fluff and minor plots. Let me know if they have any appeal and I will flesh them out more.
