Operation: Settling In

Location: [Unknown]

Subject: Ark Thompson/ James Ford(?)/Prisoner 24601

Time: 2169/ 14 years until the events of Eden Prime

"Setting charge." The block of explosives was lighter than expected, almost as thin as manila folder as I pressed it against the door. The shaped charged glued itself to the door with gusto, and ignored the pain in my still healing hand as I began backing away.

"Get back…" The rest of the team followed my movements, but retained their aim on the door in the event the enemy unsuspectingly decided to walk through.

And by teammates I meant more holographic soldiers that had no personality and blindly followed my orders to kill other holographic soldiers. I guess my captors had decided that I had passed basic weapon skills and needed to understand the intricacies of working within a team of fellow sentient. Because, you know, real people and holographic are totally the same. Not.

"Breaching in 5…4…3…2…1…breaching." I pressed the trigger, unleashing the power of the waiting charge. The hundred pound door was blown cleanly out of its frame as the first of my 'fake' teammates rushed into the smoke. I followed close behind, ignoring the sound and smoke as I brought my Vindicator to my shoulder, lining up the sights with an Asari that was getting ready to ruin my teammate's day.

Three squeezes of the trigger sent nine rounds screaming into her body, ending her life incredibly quickly. Without blinking, I rolled my shoulders; bring my aim to the right just in time to see one of my squaddies remove the head of a Turian commander who was still trying to get his side arm out the holster.

Didn't have to worry about that guy, I suppose.

The door had apparently taken out another bad guy, judging by the red stain that had ruined the perfectly good rug. So that was three, I continued my sweep to the right, weary of interference. Usually there was at least…

" .KROGAN!" Oh dear lord, can nothing be simple?

Hearing the bellow originating from my left, I pivoted to the side just in time to see a Krogan backhand one of my squaddies into the table the now decapitated Turian had been manning. He was dead (he was never really alive, I suppose) instantly. The Krogan was in blood rage, a 2000 pound freight train that turned its dinosaur like head to me.

He was way to close.

"Concentrate fire!" I yelled to the remains of my assault squad, which only served to distinguish me as the Krogans next target. I dropped the Vindicator, reaching for my duel Shuriken's in there shoulder holsters. They were slightly modified, fully auto instead of the classic three round bursts, making them a bit hard to handle.

But they might save my life, like right now.

I brought them up and held down the triggers. 700 rounds per minute times two equals 1400 rounds per minutes launching right into his lizard face, which started to blow away the flesh and muscles in a rather gruesome plum of gore. But it didn't cause any pain to their subject due to the rage its species was legendary for, so he just plowed on into the barrage with abandon, totally focused on ruining my day.

Then three avenger assault rifles turned to him, adding there power to my own. The titan stumbled once, then twice. Gravity did the rest and his still twitching body slide to a stop at my feet.

"Simulation ended… reviewing results." The ballroom derez along with my squad and the bodies I had just created. I regained my bearings, adjusting from going to a ballroom on Bekenstein to an airplane hangar like structure in… somewhere.

I began sheading my combat gear, which was identical to the ones I had one during my last encounter with Dracul, and placing them in a bin located near a door that would exit to my room.

"Prisoner 24601, you defeated all hostiles and suffered one causality out of your squad. Mission success calculated as: 92.3%, congratulations." I grimaced slightly. I piety the man who worked for the company that considered just 'his' death was totally acceptable.

The door to my quarters opened swiftly, welcoming me back to my cell with open arms. I always hesitated when I was forced to walk into my room, simply because of what it represents. It was my cage, where my enemies watched me and poked me with their tools. Yet, at the end of the day, where else was there to go?

I was well past the entry way to my quarters before it hit me like a hammer. The undeniable power of presence that had me holding one of my two handguns at the head of the being sitting comfortably on my cot before I was even aware of what I was doing.

"Aim your first shot carefully, child, you won't get a second." Dracul said with a tone far too apathic for a man that had a very real possibility of having his brains being plastered over the walls. He was dressed very differently than the Cerberus military uniform he usually sported, a dark under shirt and sport coat seemed to distinguish him as a 21st century businessman more than the military overlord he was.

I was half-way through applying the 6.5 lbs. of force necessary to send a mass-accelerated round into his head when a beautiful thing call logic caused me to pause.

Where was Michael? I mean, where was he? This is a man that worked for an entity that had the power to de-age me and send me to into a world of pure fiction simply for 'validation'. Michael had demonstrated the ability to stop time itself on multiple occasions, sneak into a convert Alliance battle station, and also seems to have had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of what I had been doing and where I had been doing it.

And let's not even start with the complexities of the Zero Halliburton case's contents.

Point is where the hell is he? I mean, Dracul walked into a place he had specifically positioned me in and labeled a safe spot, dragged me out screaming, then tortured me. How?

"Don't be the idiot you claim to be, Ark, you know why." That little voice of doubt slivered into me. Every reaction had an equal or opposite reaction. Michael was the reaction, Dracul was his opposite. Dracul must have, at the bare minimum, access to powers that could cancel Michaels.

Suddenly pointing a gun at his head seemed a very bad idea.

I blinked once, twice. Then I forced the gun back down with all the willpower I could muster, leaving it gripped tightly in my hand. Dracul raised his head, the shadows of my room inexplicably covering his face, and smiled.

Norman Bates would have been drooling with envy.

"A wise decision, child, sit." Although he spoke softly, I could tell it was a command. Still fingering my handgun nervously, I backed into my rolling chair in front of my work bench, eyeing Dracul the entire time.

"You have mastered this universes weaponry as quickly and efficiently as our people's superiority demands, perhaps even more so, child. Yet, you seem to insist you stand at a disadvantage, physically and competently."

What the hell is happening? Is Dracul really giving me… complements?

"You see Brother, this bothers me. It bothers me because we are cut from the same cloth. And if you seem to think that your rag is not porous enough to stop the bleeding of a wound, then you imply that my cloth is insufficient as well."

His voice was as smooth as water, but I caught the accusation pointed at me. I had disrespected a cosmic entity, one that held my life in his hands. Hands that would not hesitate to crush me in an iron grip if I continued this path. My knuckles where pure white as my grip on the gun shook, fear coursing through my veins.

"Do you know what happens to things that inconvenience me? They are eliminated, disposed of. Similar to the way you decimated that assault team. How did it feel, to be those mortals in there last moments, I wonder? Did they feel fear, regret, anguish… " In that moment, something snapped. There had been a dull, blurred feeling that I'd had since this whole mess began, all of a sudden crystal clear. It had gnawed at my mind for months and it was finally free.

I had never hated anyone the way I hated him.

Logic was damned as I stood with ease and aimed. The trigger was pulled over and over, sending no less than seven high-powered, anti-personal rounds into Draculs still sitting form. He was less than five feet away from me, without a shield, and in a suit coat. Swiss cheese was the only possible result.

What happened next was… difficult to explain.

The previously dim room was plunged into total darkness. Not your nighttime darkness, either, but a darkness that almost seemed to have mass to it. It was as if I had been thrown into a swimming pool with darkness instead of water, but could still breathe and move without the friction that water generated. Regardless, visibility was instantly nothing, I couldn't even see my nose, let alone aim my gun.

Then I got hit, hard. It felt like two German Shepard's had launched at my forearms, before biting and pushing me back to the wall. Blind and in pain, I kicked wildly and tried to push myself off the wall, but the grip was firm and excruciating. The handgun had been dropped in the struggle, leaving me totally defenseless.

"So…you have some fight left in you yet. Good." Draculs voice seemed to be coming from several directions at once, despite the fact that the room was too small to echo. I continued to struggle vainly.

"As I was saying, your lack of confidence is disconcerting. This will be remedied easily, quickly. Tomorrow, I will introduce you to your birthright, the power Michael had hidden from you. And you shall become a force that will rival that of God himself." Slowly, the darkness faded away and light slowly flittered back into the room. The pressure on my arms lessened as well, eventually dropping me to my feet.

I checked my arms, noting the four identical rows of teeth marks that had pierced my armor but seemed to have stopped short of piercing my skin. Oddly enough, they seemed less like the few pictures of dog bits I had seen and more in line with a reptile attack, considering the puncture shape. But now was not the time for analysis.

I looked up, watching the last tendrils of the solid darkness side across the room to a corner of my cell that I had never used before. Yet another panel had slide open, a man standing in the threshold. The darkness slide into the folds of his suit coat as easily as water pours down a stream. His form slowly cleared as the pure darkness was absorbed, leaving a form I am very familiar with.

It was Dracul, of course. The bastard had the audacity to smile at me, his red eyes glowing menacingly. He hit a few buttons on a panel next to him as he spoke.

"The security cameras and you're A.I. assistant well reactivate shortly. Noble blood runs through your veins, child, if you want it to stay there you will not speak of this to anyone. I shall see you shortly." He turned to leave, and I released the air I found I had involuntarily held. "Oh, one more thing child…"

A tentacle of blackness swept out from his form, knocking me into to the wall with enough force to leave a dent. "If I see you covering the marks again, I will hurt you… badly."

I, rather unceremoniously, fainted.

The darkness faded away slowly. It was sound that returned first, like a wave gliding over sand. Hearing did little good in my prison, but the slow beeping served to reassure me that I was alive, if nothing else.

I wonder what was making that noise. Was it a phone? A pager? Perhaps I had neglected to turn my alarm clock off again. Yes, that had to be it.

It started to return then, bit by bit. Shepard. My capture. Dracul. The Darkness. Getting bitch slapped by cosmic entities.

I finally sat up, internal asking that age old question. When did I go from accounting class to punching bag for a sentient cloud? Well, perhaps it was not an age old question, but it was one I could really use an answer to.

"Twos, are you online?"

"I am, Ark. I am attempting to analyze a programing glitch that caused a temporary shut down three hours ago. During this time, visual scans indicate you were attacked, possibly injured. Do you need me to summon medical assistance?" Hmmm, if I didn't know better, I would say Twos sounded worried. I would be if I was her(it), but did A.I. even had emotions? Considering EDI did, I supposed it wasn't too out of the question, but Twos was shackled. EDIs emotion didn't develop till the third game, when she was unshackled and in a physical body. Twos had neither.

Regardless, she wouldn't find anything. When I told her (it) so, she paused for a whole thirty seconds. The beeping continued ominously.

"Ark, please clarify."

"Dracul turned off your system and then proceeded to beat me up, there was no glitch."

"That… scenario does fit with acquired information." I chuckled. Twos and her(its) analyses, capable of finding the most accurate answers, yet lacking the most obvious answers. Well, obvious answers to a huma… organic.

"Of course it fits, Twos. It's the truth. Now what's up with the beeping?" I took the time to reexamine myself while waiting for the answer, a small habit I picked up due to the fact I ran combat simulations every day. Headache, sore back, and a still cut hand was all I managed to find. The cut on my hand perplexed me, however. It had been a month since I had accidently cut it, and during that time I had managed to heal my broken rib to the point it did not hurt anymore and the gunshot wounds had now become more aesthetically annoying than actually damaging. But the cut remained as vivid and angry as the minute I had cut it. Odd.

Still waiting for Twos, I picked myself up and walked into the bathroom. The little first aid kit had been replenished recently, so I took the time to replace the gaze on my hand. I also unwrapped the coverings over my brands.

I couldn't help but hate myself a little bit for it, but what other choice did I have. I could try to be like the up and coming Commander Shepard, definite to the end as I refused to give in to Draculs demand, giving him the figure as he shocks me into oblivion. Romantic but what would that accomplish? A lotta pain that nobody will see or appreciate, leaving me dead or incapacitated for no good reason. Better to play along and give into Draculs little game. Reason before honor at its finest.

"Ark… you are receiving a call." That one knocked me out of my self-reflective monologue. Turning, I checked the weapon vender in my room, seeing it had rotated out to reveal a terminal with a call waiting.

"Twos, I really don't remember giving out my phone number, who is it?" My first thought was Dracul, but that didn't make sense. He had already said (threatened) that he would return tomorrow for his illusive 'training'. And it's not like anyone else had contact with me on a regular basis.

"Unknown. The signal has Alliance military encryption and appears to be originating from the Sol system. The call would normally be ignored, but the Directors tampering allowed it through." I frowned. I've never been to the Sol system in this life, nor held any correspondence with someone living there. Fortune favors the bold, however, so I pushed the 'accept call' button.

"Hello, Ark Thompson speaking." I winced. First person from the outside I can talk to and I sound like a bad answering machine. Great start, you idiot.

"This is Captain Shepard of the SSV Einstein, who am I speaking to?" The voice was a worded kindly enough but it was defiantly a demand, giving the impression that it was backed up with nuclear weapons if you didn't answer succinctly and honestly. Which it probably was, I mused.

Not that I was really focusing on the tone of voice, mind you. My brain was currently trying to process the implications of Shepard calling me in prison. Let's go with the best case scenario. Shepard tracks me to prison and frees me. Yeah, right? Except that this is a Shepard (if not The Shepard) and that will result in her looking into the people who held me.

Needless to say, the people holding me are the 30 Coins. The 30 Coins are logically working for or with Cerberus, being human run and 'in humanities best interest'. Plus the fact all the weapons I have handle have Alliance property stamps leaves little doubt that they are some sort of Alliance black ops group. Once Shepard finds out that my captors have Alliance ties, there are two possible outcomes.

Captain Hannah Shepard is killed. See the fate of Rear Admiral Kahoku for an example. Despite the obvious fact that Captain Shepard would give me cookies whenever I would hang around with Meetra in her apartment (which was surprisingly often), and was thus a good person in my book, the effect of her mother's assassination on Reds psyche could be catastrophic.

The second outcome is far more improbable, but still possible. Captain Shepard takes down Cerberus in its infancy. This hypnotically saves thousands of lives from being Huskifiyed in Mass Effect 3, which is good. It also prevents Commander Shepard from every being revived in Mass Effect 2, which has horrible consequences.

So, long story short, convince Captain Shepard I am totally fine with my uncle. Not being experimented on by a group of Nazi wannabes. Also, I should avoid telling her I am an alien. Good thing I took three years of Drama lessons in high school.

"Hi, Captain Shepard, it's me, Ark Thompson. I'm good friends with your daughter." I winced, like she didn't know that.

"Ark? It's good to finally hear from you again. Hackett and I have been trying to reach you for months." The tone of relief in her voice as palpable, oddly enough. I didn't think my disappearance had that much of an impact on the small group of acquaintances (friends, really) I knew, but apparently I under estimated my rugged charm.

'Rugged charm'. That's a joke.

"I'm really sorry, Captain Shepard. My uncle had some business outside the comm buoy network and I couldn't connect." Comm buoys are basically miniature mass relays that transport energy instead of ships like there larger brethren. This energy is then decoded in a similar fashion to 21st century phone lines, allowing instant communication. Problem is, if you are far from a buoy, you have no service. Thus no communication.

These relays are not seen in game, but they are mentioned in the codex. The more you know, right?

"That must have been very far off the grid for you to have no access." Damn, she's on to me.

"Yeah, a year without extranet can really wear on you, trust me." You can never go wrong with the shallow teenager act; parents are just begging to have teenage laziness confirmed. "But I am back in range now, so that's that."

"Yes, I suppose so…" Yeap, she defiantly doesn't believe me. "Are you anywhere near the Sol system? I managed to get reassigned so that Meetra could attend the new school for biotics in London. She misses you terribly; perhaps you and your uncle could come by for a visit…"

It took a surprisingly large amount of self-control not to scream 'NO' at the good Captain. She had skillfully combined a small amount of guilt and the logical outcome to my story to try to weed out my lie. She is assuredly a Shepard.

I really only had one choice… "Sorry Captain Shepard, I don't think Uncle intends to go near the Sol system for quite some time…"

"That's okay, Ark. I am military, after all, I understand if your Uncle has inescapable obligations." I heard the rustling of papers on the line. "Ark, would you mind if I put you on hold for just a second?"

I blinked. You would think the long lost prodigal son would take priority, but whatever. "Not at all." Seconds later, the little sound symbol with a line through it popped up, leaving me to reflect on the conversation.

So, there is a biotic school in London? Interesting, but logical. The game never states where Shepard got biotic training in his/her youth and the timeline states that Kaiden Alenko single handedly closed down BAat before Shepard started showing biotic potential. He/She had to go 'somewhere', might as well be London.

Possibly that's where Shepard meets Captain Anderson. Anderson was a London native, if I remember correctly, so it's not too far of a stretch to see…

"Ark?" Twos mechanical voice interrupted my musings, causing me to 'hmmm' in response. "It appears Captain Shepard is attempting to trace your call."

That got me up. "Can you block it?" I asked desperately. This whole charade will have been for nothing if the Captain can trace my call to a cellblock in… wherever the hell I am!

"Yes. I have access to multiple false relays that could…"

I interrupted. "Do it."

"Processing… complete." I let out a breath I had been holding, sinking back into my chair once again. I guess I should be… touched? Captain Shepard care enough about my welfare to divert Alliance resources to try to find me and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Expect for the fact that the possible fate of the galaxy relied on the Shepard's life not being greatly interfered with by outside forces, such as me.

That thought certainly wasn't a warm and fuzzy one.

The mute icon blinked away from the screen just as suddenly as it had come. "Ark, are you still there?" Ohhh, was that a hint of concern that I detected? I suppose that confirmed the fact she couldn't find my location, as she would have been much more demanding if she had found out where I really was.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry about that…" Bull. "But do you mind if I speak to your Uncle for a second, I want send him some of your legal documentation." Uhhh, no. I know I have no documentation. The cadaver I took over when I was dropped into this universe originated from a Batarian prison, then a classified Alliance space station. Neither of these places had legal offices or courts, oddly enough. I think I had a court date scheduled to officially bring me into existence when I was still in Hackett's care, but the 30 Coins got to me before that. The classes I took on Ares space station where technically enrolled under Meeta's credentials, as was the various other things I needed an I.D. for.

So, that meant this was just a ploy for the good Captain to 'investigate' my uncle. Which could not happen for obvious reasons.

"Sorry, Mrs. Shepard, my uncle is out at the moment." That lie rolled off my tongue with an easy I did not know I possessed, but hey, whatever to save the galaxy.

"That's a pity. So you're docked somewhere?" God, she was digging now. I needed to end this exchange now before I accidently contradicted myself or something.

"Yes, ma'am, not sure where though. Captain Shepard, sorry to run out on you like this, but I have some chores to do…"

"Not at all, Ark. But please try to keep in better contact. Meetra and Admiral Hackett where quite worried about you." The unspoken implication that she was worried as well hung in the air as well. Yet, I saw my out and took it. I had almost hit the 'end' button when I was stopped.

"Ark! I almost forgot, do you know a Staff Lieutenant Michael Oyarsa? " I blinked once. Twice. It couldn't be my mission control, could it?

"Ummm… yes." My voice sounded almost hopeful.

"He came to my office the day before we shipped off of Ares, very worried about your disappearance. I reassured him you were with your uncle, but he left me a number just in case. Do you have a message to pass along?"

I felt better instantly. Michael was looking for me and he was not bound by the laws of this fictional universe. He was my one and only hope to get me out of this prison alive. I needed to help him.

Thinking fast, I put together the most basic code as I asked the good captain to write down my message.

"Please tell Michael that I am with Uncle Dracul. Tell him not to worry, I think Dracul and I share the same origins and that he is trying to teach me lots. I am not following all that well though, as it is hard with all his friends over. They call themselves the Cerberus poker players. Did you get that?" Shepard gave a much delayed 'hmmm' in affirmation, likely baffled by the seemingly random info I was send her. But Michael would know, he HAD to know.

We exchanged pleasantries and then I ended the call. I took a moment to smiled; basking in the fact that rescue was on its way.

It couldn't take too long, could it?

Before you review, please check the tags. Note 'supernatural'. If you are angry at the power Dracul just showed, I warned you. Sorry.

So, I have broken one of the rules I held very highly when I started this fan fic. I would say I was disappointed but it is way too much fun. I promised I would not be like those other authors who write long, boring authors notes at the end of their chapters.

See how that promises is turning out.

Anyway, I haven't answer user comments in awhile, so I shall:

TheWalkerChronicle, Nas4a2, and Michae1ange1o for the Spider.

CrimsonKnight117, sabba5600, and Biolegend712 for the Bat.

So, we have a tie so far. I did not expect that, but perhaps the characters are too different to compare effectively. So, how about a new one: Deathstroke the Terminator vs. The Punisher. Both are Vietnam vets who use a variety of weapons to kill for their own reasons. I think Deathstrokes healing factor would be negligible in a close up, one on one fight, so it can be ignored for the purposes of this fight.

Michae1ange1o: Damn. You are sharp. I felt I needed a name that was evil but not too overt like the' LEGION OF DOOOM' or something similar. What better name than a reference to one of the most infamous betrayals in history? On the Ark complaining level, I think he will come to… appreciate the training in the future, but he is still being held against his will and tortured in the present.

I would ramble more, but this chapter is long enough.

A WARNING: THE NEXT CHAPTER IS SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, you stay classy.

If you read this chapter within six hours of its initial upload, I would like to apologize. Even by my very lax standards, the copy/paste method I use failed magnificently. Its fixed now, though.