Evan often thought of the first memory he had.
"Mommy, why is daddy sad?" He asked.
"He's remembering Uncle Joe." Was her response.
Uncle Joe. The mythological figure of his childhood. The great man. The dead one. The explorer. Who was a mechanic living in Shanxi, who went down on the memorials as one of the first humans to die from alien fire.
Whose war wasn't even a war in the Council's history books. "The Relay 314 Incident", like his uncle died in an accident. But it wasn't that. It was an act of aggression by a superpower against the new kid. Because might makes right, and they were the righteous ones.
That was the moment. The moment where he had decided to leave. Because all of the pain, all of the anguish his family went through meant nothing. For "peace".
He didn't even leave a note for his commander to find when his bunk was empty in the morning.
"Do you have any Human beers?" he asked the Batarian at the bar. The Batarian glared at him, walked away, and came back with… Was it piss? It looked like piss. He smelled it. Beer. Probably piss beer though. That was the bad thing about living outside Alliance space. No good beer leaves Alliance space. No MPs do either, so he had that going for him.
He flicked a credit chit towards the bartender, who took it without responding. Fair enough. He wasn't a big fan of Batarians either.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A voice asked from next to him. He turned to look at the arrival.
The man was definitely good looking. Tall, muscular. A little pale for his tastes but who was he to complain? The smile came easy.
"Nope. Feel free." He said. The man took the seat next to him, and moved it to a table. Two Turians, an Asari, and a Salarian were seated there already. The Asari put a hand on his back affectionately.
Of course.
"Makes you sick, doesn't it." Another voice said from next to him. He looked.
The man was dressed casually, but carried himself like a soldier. Straight posture, the hand casually resting near where a sidearm would be, and the air of "Don't fuck with me" elite soldiers inevitably gain. And of course, the eyes. You could see it in another man. When someone has done things in combat. Things most people don't do. Eyes like that would make you forget everything else about a person.
"Hmm?" He responded.
"Look at that couple." The man said. "They look happy. They probably are. I wonder if the man there ever thinks about how, in thirty years, his body is going to fail him. His senses are going to go downhill, as will his muscles. Fifty years after that, he will be dead. And she? Will move on. Because she will live to two thousand years old, and we live to a hundred, so there is no reason for her to remember. Does that seem right to you?"
"That's interesting, but why are you talking to me?" The weirdest types were always in Omega. Fucking hell.
"Evan Heron. Alliance special forces. Born 2159 to Joseph and Francine Heron. Enlisted in the Alliance Navy at 18, and was found to be a very promising biotic. Found special aptitude with the especially overt uses of biotic energy, and was placed on the fast track to N ranking. Even trained in Rio de Janeiro. Disappeared during shore leave on the Citadel in 2180, with no notice. By now, your family assumes you are dead. Your commanders have called off the search. Your body was never found."
"Are you blackmailing me?" Evan asked.
The man stopped for a second, with a confused look on his face, then laughed. "Shit. I'm terrible at this, I'm sorry. My name's Kai Leng. I'm here to offer you a job."
"What kind of job?"
"Tell me – have you ever heard of Cerberus?"
Things got strange when Shepard defected.
The first few days, the anger in the halls was palpable. People didn't understand – Why would Shepard betray them? It was Cerberus who brought Shepard back to life. Cerberus gave Shepard a ship. Cerberus helped Shepard's mission.
Was it going to be Shepard's defection that destroyed them? There was an irony to it, Evan knew. He wasn't too blind to Shepard's history before Cerberus. He just wished Shepard could have outgrown it, seen Cerberus for what it truly was – The last defense of humanity in the face of a galaxy that looked out for their own.
Shepard was a race traitor anyway. The turian? The asari? The salarian? Even a geth. Divided we fall – and Shepard had a crew that was by its definition divided. It couldn't work.
Then why was that what would destroy Cerberus?
He asked Kai about it one evening.
"Don't worry," Kai had said, "The Illusive Man has a plan."
And the complaints did stop. People would go away, and come back determined to do all they could in the service of humanity.
But it felt strange.
Use whips. Roll. Release a singularity with one hand, lift your pistol with another, leap behind that box and shoot. Peek above the box. One Turian left standing.
Excellent.
Evan focused inwards. He mentally remembered the first day he did this. His instructor was almost complimentary that day.
He became energy. It was only a split second, but it was the greatest feeling in the world. That moment when you are part of everything. When you understand. When the world just… makes sense.
He was one with… everything.
And then it ended. As it always did. With an explosion. The Turian being tossed by the energy. He fired his pistol. Ended it. His earpiece crackled.
"Perfect." his commander said. "Now all you should do is-"
It cut off. Had he been discovered? Were the Turians blocking communications?
"This is a message to all Cerberus field agents" His earpiece said, in a familiar female voice. Lawson? Last he heard she was on Shepard's crew. "You have been betrayed. The Illusive Man has found a method of mind control. If you head back to home base, you will be indoctrinated and turned into a slave. Please believe me. I have Specter authorization to grant anyone in Council space pardons, but we will also gather people at Illium. I will send coordinates. Humanity is under attack. We need your help."
He stopped in his tracks. That made too much sense. He didn't even consider it, but… He should have. The way the complaints had stopped. He knew people. People complained.
"God damn it." He muttered to himself. "God damn it!"
He swung his whips at a nearby crate, which failed to shatter satisfyingly.
"Operative Heron, are you there?" His commander's voice came in on the earpiece.
If this were false, he would…
Still be legally dead. None of his work could be linked to him. He could arrive in civilian clothes, and just be the wayward son who needed to explore the galaxy.
And if this were true? Operative Miranda Lawson was known to everyone in Cerberus. Cold, sure, but never a traitor, even if she had worked with one. Not to the true cause, anyway. And who knew what the Illusive Man was thinking?
"I'm listening." he said.
"Great. We had a glitch in the computer system, here. Comms cut out for a second. Abort mission. There is a top priority briefing back at home base." Not suspicious at all.
He ran to the shuttle dock, and boarded the first one he saw.
Sized for Turians of course. Nothing was ever easy. He thought for a second, and punched Earth's coordinates into the nav system.
It would be good to go home.