Face Off, Part II of II

In which Commander Shepard dies…

Bastard Shepard was dead.

But what is death to the man that has already died?

Cells may stop dividing, their membranes may dissolve, their little factories may twist apart into goop—but if the cells still somehow move, if the eldritch influence of Reaper tech floods their miniature bodies, turns them blue and buzzing, charges them with unnamed elements and unnatural vigor—then who is to call such a minor setback as 'death' the end?

Not Bastard Shepard, who rose from the rubble of his crack house cum party house cum death trap like the vengeful ghost of Christopher Columbus, wrenched from the astral plane in search of non-white blood to quench his arcane thirst. The Shepard shed the dust of a several month old apartment and its modish redecoration like a snake sheds its mortal coil. He stood upon the pile, and took in his domain. A gutter: the bottom of the Citadel wards, a dirty neon pit nestled in runnels of piping, tunnels of techno-economy and organic processing plants. A few of the Citadel's peculiar bug caretakers peered down from alcoves in the walls, down at the pile of rubble that had been the fallen apartment suite, fallen directly into the pit of terror.

Others were rising now. The quarian failure, Tali'Zorah, and her Nightwing, Garrus Vakarian—they stumbled out of a cloud. The krogans were helping each other to their feet, each clutching a squashed hand of cards in one hand, as nearby the two asari worked together to lift a pile of debris off of the struggling form of Javik the Protehan. EDI rolled off of Joker's limp body and began tending to his unconscious form. And still others were being unearthed from the wreck even now. No one had noticed Shepard.

Nobody, except for himself.

The clone had pulled himself from a pile of black armored corpses. He was beaten, as disheveled as his counterpart, and in one hand he clutched a pistol.

"You," said Shepard, baring his teeth.

"Yes," said Shepard. "Me."

Shepard gave an unpleasant grin. "I knew this day would come. Since the moment I strangled you in our mother's womb and devoured your corpse. I always knew that doctor's appointment to remove my tonsils was for something…more. And that would make you perhaps six years younger than me, then? Did they remove you from my body and place you in a vat, perhaps? They should have left you there. A spare body. Who needs Cerberus after all."

The other Shepard shook his head. "Actually, I'm the clone Cerberus made of you. You had a twin?" By now the others had noticed and gathered in a circle around them. All except James Vega, who had been crushed to death by a giant sombrero. Just kidding.

"A what?" asked Bastard Shepard. "A 'twine?' I don't know what this word means but I suggest you speak normal English if you want to be understood. Learn the language and all that." He gave James a meaningful look.

"That's right," said the clone, turning to look Shepard's companions in the eye. "I am the clone. Cerberus made me for spare parts, like I said before. But now I've come back to replace the original."

"Go for it," said Tali.

"Thanks for the support, Tali," said Bastard Shepard. He turned to the clone. "But I'm afraid your plan will never work, my fine phenomenologically identical friend. Because this isn't even my final form. You see, I usually suppress my power level down to a usual 60,000 to avoid tiring myself out. But my true form rests at a power level so high above that that I put entire solar systems in danger just by breathing. Just ask Javik."

"Huh?" said Tali.

Shepard continued without missing a beat. "I'm not surprised they never needed to use you for spare parts, Shepard. After all: they replaced my missing organs with Reaper technology, and a Cuisinart. Reaper technology has a tendency to make one…more so. Over time."

"I bet your dick is still tiny," said Miranda.

The clone blushed. Bastard Shepard smirked. "Perhaps. But it still gets the job done. Isn't that right, Jack?"

"Not even once," said Jack. "And you gave me herpes."

"You win some, you lose some." Shepard turned to look at them all. "My friends—I apologize from dragging you all down here in such a violent fashion. After all, I would never pull you out of your normal lives and force you into a climactic and emotional confrontation—I'm not any number of your dead parents. But what I am…is so much more than you could ever imagine."

Liara stared. "Shepard…you said the bombs were rigged up to your heart?"

"My heart?" Shepard chortled. "My heart stopped beating long ago, Mister T'soni. Specifically when you all BETRAYED ME!"

He turned dramatically to stare at the crew of the original Normandy, his eyes ablaze with a terrible red light. "YES—" Shepard tapped his blunted, blackened finger tips against his teeth "YES, that's right. I KNEW. I KNEW ALL ALONG, YOU UTTER FOOLS. FOR I AM ALL KNOWING. I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END. I AM THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA. I AM THE CREATOR, AND THE DESTRUCTOR. I AM YOUR GENETIC DESTINY.

I

AM

A REAPER!"

"Really?" asked Grunt.

"Not really," said Bastard Shepard.

"Enough games," said Tali. Her voice had gone hard. "Enough of your stupid jokes. Shepard—this is the end of the line. Whether that clone kills you or not, you're not getting out of this mess alive. We're all in agreement." She looked pointedly at the others. The original crew of the Normandy nodded. Samantha looked stunned but did not object, while Cortez merely shrugged. Wrex and Grunt were too busy staring at the dual-Shepards to even care, while Javik, Liara, Jack, Zaeed, Samara, EDI, Joker, and whoever else was there all looked thoughtful, though they raised no objections.

"You'll need more votes than that to repeal Obamacare," Shepard hissed down at her. "Whorian wench."

Garrus put a hand around Tali's waist. "I'm sorry, Shepard, but she's got the only vote she'll ever need."

"You too, Garrus?" asked Shepard, his lips curling. "After everything you owe me? I guess it's true—the dirty bird shits in its girlfriend's plug suit."

"No," said Garrus. "Not me. You. The vote to kill you, I mean, not the shitting part."

"Me, wanting me to die?" scoffed Bastard Shepard. "Do you mean my clone, who's going to dramatically kill me—"

The clone raised the pistol and shot Bastard Shepard in the head. But Shepard was too fast: he leapt forwards and shoved the shooting arm aside, then smashed his elbow into the clone's nose. The clone retaliated by trying to pistol whip him, but Shepard grabbed his counterpart's wrist and twisted, squeezing the gun from his fingers. It clattered to the rubble. Liara saw, and dove for it, but she took a biotic push from one of the Shepard's full in the face and was thrown back into Javik's arms.

"In my cycle," began Javik, but was cut off by a howl as Bastard Shepard's knee drove up into the clone's nuts.

"He fights dirty!" exclaimed Jack with enthusiasm.

"So do I!" grated the clone, seconds before dropping to his knees and boxing Shepard's bean bag. But Bastard Shepard just laughed.

"FOOL! My nuts are cybernetically enhanced!" He delivered a slap to the clone's face so hard that it flattened him to the ground. Apparently the clone was nowhere near as strong as the resurrected Shepard—but he had landed close to the gun. Scrambling on his hands and knees, he had almost made it when Bastard Shepard's hand snatched the weapon up. Without missing a beat, the clone turned his scramble into a tackle that carried them both off the side of the rubble and into a cloud of dust! Everyone gasped and ran forwards. But it was too late: a crack sounded, the single report of a gunshot. There was a thump: a Shepard's body slammed into the dirt, a smoking hole in the back of his head.

"Grab him!" exclaimed Tali. Grunt and Wrex dove forwards and pinned the survivor to the ground as Zaeed and Javik kicked the body over. Shepard's head was almost entirely blasted away. He was obviously dead.

Miranda called out over the grunting and wrexing sounds as they struggled to keep Shepard pinned. "Check his face! The real Shepard's half machine, remember! I put him together, after all." She crossed her arms and shivered, holding back as Liara, Ashley, and James came up to inspect. Shepard was panting and frantic to escape, but he held still long enough for her to get a good look at his face.

"It's him," said Liara. "I mean, it's the clone."

Wrex and Grunt stood back. Wrex helped Shepard up and slapped him on the back. "Good to have you back, Shepard. Well, I suppose that would just be 'good to have you' but that sounds a bit gay. No offense, Cortez."

"Not gay at all, Urdnot Wrex." Shepard gave the krogan a firm hand shake, grimacing at the dirt caking his own hands. "Sorry. And you, Mr. Cortez, I don't know much about you, but I apologize for whatever it was my, er, 'brother' may have said or done in the time you were unfortunate enough to be working for him."

"Apology accepted, I guess," said Cortez. Shepard nodded and brushed by him to go stand on the rubble pile. Everyone followed, even Tali and Garrus.

"Shepard…" said Liara. "Is it really you? I mean, is it really not you?"

"…Yes?" said Shepard tentatively.

"It'll take a long time to prove yourself," said Tali, not unkindly. "There's a lot of bad blood between the crew and Shepard."

"And I'll take that time," said Shepard. "I'll take my time making it up to each of you, extensively. It might even take years. But in the end I'll prove myself worthy of you all—I know I will. I may be Shepard's clone, but I'm not him. Well, I mean, I am literally him, but I'm not a bastard."

Javik scoffed. Out of all of them, he seemed the least impressed. "What is the point, primitive? In my cycle, clones were no different than children. They had none of the training of true soldiers—where do you plan to learn how to command troops, eh?"

Shepard spread his arms. "From all of you. You see, I have a little theory: I think there was a reason that Shepard collected talented people like you. He had an eye for success—he might have been cruel, but he did value your skills and what you could do—the reason being that without you, he was nothing. I don't think the legend of Commander Shepard was built on him alone, if you know what I mean." He nodded warmly at Liara. "Especially when it comes to you, Ms. T'Soni.

Liara blushed. "…Shepard, do you happen to have the Prothean memories too, like the original had, from the beacon?"

"Uh, no," said the clone in confusion. "Sorry. Anyways, let's all head back to the Normandy. We can call C-Sec to clean this mess up later—for now, I think we all deserve some real R&R."

He started to move, but then stopped with a sheepish expression. "Uh…which way is the Normandy?"

Everyone burst out laughing. Arm and arm, they retired to the ship. James Vega jogged up next to Shepard and slapped him hard on the back. "Muchacho! Mi amigo! I knew you wasn't so bad after all."

Ashley and Liara exchanged worried looks.

"Man," said James. "For a second a thought I was seeing duo there! But now there's only uno of you! That's loco!"

Shepard gave James a friendly punch in the soft ribs. "Don't sweat it, cabrone. Say—I think I've got some Legos up in my cabin…what say you to a bit of a contest, amigo?"

James winked. "Think you can dance and build the Deathstar at the same time, loco?"

"Oh," said Shepard. "I think I can do that."

They all laughed again and set off down the road to happiness. And somehow, they all had the feeling that everything was going to be all right.

Hours later, after one hell of party, Shepard locked the door to his cabin behind him and slumped into the bathroom, where he braced himself over the sink and let out a long, pained sigh. Glancing up at the mirror, he grimaced at his reflection and turned on the water, wetting a wash cloth so that he could carefully remove the skin colored make up he had used to hide the veins of reaper tech glowing on his cheeks. For the finale he popped the quick-insert hazel contact lenses out: this left the ominous red triangles in his eyes to glow out in the open.

Bastard Shepard leaned away from the mirror and examined his true, diabolical face. Then he began to laugh—at least until the doorbell rang. Then he pounced on the mirror cabinet to hastily re-apply his face and eyes. The doorbell rang again.

"Coming!" he caroled, giving himself one last check before he stomped to the door and keyed it open. "Jeez, this really isn't a good—"

Mordin Solus walked in the room. As the door shut behind him, he raised an oversized pistol and pointed it at Shepard's face.

"Back up Shepard."

Shepard backed up, raising his hands in confusion. "Mordin Solus—I thought you were—"

"Dead not really." Mordin blinked at him. "Was biding my time after you shot me in back on Tuchanka. Thought one bullet could do me in Shepard, thought wrong. Genophage cured, by the way." He beamed. "Lie you're telling Wrex, isn't. Got the job done, got out, STG like they say. Haven't lost touch."

Shepard blanched. Then his expression changed. "Amazing! I'm so honored to finally meat you in the flesh, Mordin. I read your file. But there's something you don't know about me; I'm not actually Shepard. I'm his clone."

"Save it," said Mordin in a bored voice. "Lies won't work this time, Shepard. Been keeping tabs on clone since it started operations on the Citadel, waiting for a chance to replace you. Woman you shot at the sushi—she was the spearhead for multilevel plot. Lock you up in storage, let the clone go out and take over. Smart. Clever. Didn't count on you, though. Not much can."

"Thanks," said Shepard. He sat back on his couch. "And apparently I can't count on you being dead, either, you hopped up frog. Maybe you should mosey on back to the scum pond and crawl into your mother's egg sack. Or did you want me to award you a gold star for figuring out that people who look like the same person are, big shock, the same fucking person."

Mordin ignored him. "Had old STG friends on Citadel watching your gambit, Shepard. Retired, of course. They saw fight in slums. They guessed you might pull trick like this. Swapping." He grinned impishly. "Just confirmed."

Bastard Shepard rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. I assume you went around and tipped off the rest of the crew, too? Or do they not believe in ghosts?"

"No," said Mordin. "All asleep. All in dark. Except me. Want to know, Shepard." The gun never waivered from Shepard's face. "What's your game, Shepard."

"Same as it ever was," said Bastard Shepard. He picked up a half empty glass of whiskey off the table, moving slowly until he was sure Mordin had given him the all clear. Then he took a sip, and glared over the rim of the glass at the Salarian. "Same as it always was."

Mordin frowned. "You're Reaper?"

"What? No." Shepard took another sip. "Fuck the Reapers. I just like messing with you guys."

Mordin waved the pistol at him. "Say I wasn't here. Say you went on. Can never go back to the way things were—you're stuck in the new persona, always wearing a mask, always looking over your shoulder. What do you do?"

"Hm." Shepard looked genuinely thoughtful. "That's right—normal people don't live for six months, do they? I've got a future to think about, like most normal species. Well. I suppose we'll mop up the Reapers, of course. Maybe I'll even help Aria with her little Omegle problem. Who knows. Then when everyone's settled down, when everyone thinks it's over, then I'll start. A few anonymous twitter accounts. A few e-mails, from hacked accounts. Maybe some forum posts. A little bit of rumor mongering, a few cruel truths dropped here and there. And on and on. It'll have to be subtle, sure, but I was getting bored of the overblown stuff anyways. It'll be like…tasting a fine wine, the new me will—I'm sure you can appreciate that metaphor in your fucking decrepit old age you wrinkled corpse."

Mordin took a step back, and shifted into a two handed firing stance. His expression had coagulated into something dark and brittle.

"Disappointing, Shepard."

"Aren't you all."

"Was hoping you'd had change of heart. Was hoping you'd come around, seen error of ways. Looking for some way to start over, trying to make amends. Was wrong." His finger tightened on the trigger.

Shepard raised his glass and took another sip of whiskey. Then he lowered the glass and cradled it in his lap, giving Mordin a pitying look. "Come on, Mordin, you're supposed to be one of the smartest frogs in the galaxy. What I've managed to save of it, anyways…you're welcome, by the way."

Mordin hesitated. "You said yourself. Success of Shepard due to team, not you."

Bastard Shepard laughed. "I was lying, Mordin. Like how you lied when you said you made a mistake causing the Genophage."

"Garrus," said Mordin, stumbling over his words. "Tali—"

"Good at what they do, I'll admit." Bastard Shepard took another sip of whiskey. "But nobody's better than Bastard Shepard. Let me ask you, Mordin—who blew up the Batarian relay single handed?"

Mordin's jaw clenched.

"I hate Batarians," mused Shepard to the whiskey. "Anyways, it was me, all on my own. Without me, the Normandy and her crew are just a bunch of headless chickens. The galaxy needs its Commander Bastard Eustace F. Gaylord Shepard the Third, Mordin. It needs me to do the things so crazy that nobody else would even consider doing them. And also I'll save everyone from the Reapers, I guess."

Mordin reluctantly lowered the gun. Shepard's lip quirked with the motion, and he eased back into the chair.

"That's a good frog."

"Be watching you," said Mordin heavily, almost desperately. "From shadows. T'Soni will be too—clever woman. Don't think you can get away with much. Don't try."

"We'll see, you old queer."

"And after this is over. If you pull Reapers off." The pistol twitched in Mordin's hand. "Watch your back, Shepard."

Shepard just smiled at him. Mordin turned in disgust and walked back towards the door, but he stopped when the Commander called his name, and he turned.

"Mordin," said Shepard again.

"What?" asked Mordin.

Shepard raised two fingers in the universal symbol for 'a gun.' He cocked his thumb back, aiming at Mordin's chest.

"You watch your back too, Mordin."

Mordin limped into the elevator, keeping his eyes on Shepard, who put the glass full of apple juice back on the table and then leaned back into his sofa, staring at the ceiling with an extremely serious and dark expression.

"Well, well," he said. "Looks like life is a game after all. A game of shadows."

There was a buzzing sound, and Kasumi the Master Thief materialized, sitting cross legged on the sofa next to Shepard. He looked over at her with a bored expression.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Kasumi's face was hidden in the shadow of her hood, but she did smirk at him. "You pulled quite a coup back there, Shep. Aren't you worried I'll blow it?"

"Sure." Shepard shrugged. "But I figure if you really wanted to blow me, there'd be no way of stopping you."

"I would, you know," said Kasumi. Her voice was deadly cheerful. "If anything ever happened to James Vega."

"Not for lack of trying," said Shepard. "But you do know he's getting it on with Ashley right now, don't you?"

"Oh, I know. I was just there. Where do you think I've been for the past few hours? Not hanging around douche central with the weird sticky apple juice couch." She tapped her omni-tool. "This footage will keep me off for months."

"Creepy," said Shepard.

"You're one to talk."

"At least when I steal things or watch people screw it's because I want to cause emotional anguish." Shepard scowled at her. "What'd you finally end up chinking from my pad? It's all blasted to shit now, I suppose."

"Not quite. I managed to scavenge something pretty valuable from the wreckage. It looked like you'd been keeping it in a safe or something." Kasumi produced a package from her suit, which she carefully unwrapped. The gleam of gold plated underwear shone from within.

Shepard made a grab for the package, but Kasumi snatched it back. "Ah-ah, Shepard, you said I could have any one thing I wanted."

His face had gone red. "You BITCH."

"Mm. Whatever." Kasumi bopped him on the nose. "You know, it'll be fun watching you sputter while you try not to make fun of everyone. Not as fun as watching you die, but I suppose I owe you for Keji's graybox."

"Oh, yeah?" Shepard tore his eyes away from the place where Kasumi had stowed his underwear. "Well, we'll see about you, animu. We'll just see about you."

"Demonstrably you won't," said Kasumi, and then disappeared. A few minutes later the door to Shepard's bathroom shut and there was a flushing sound. Then it opened and the door to the elevator opened too, and closed. Shepard cleared his throat.

"Okay. Welp." He looked around the empty, lonely cabin. "…Uh. Time to jerk off, I guess."

1,000,000 years later, in a future where gender no longer exists…

The flickering blue hologram of Liara T'Soni sparked to life in an ancient cave, activated by the touch of a weary adventurer. The trespasser stumble back as this strange alien began to speak.

"Hello. I am from a civilization thousands of years in the past. We left these caches of information scattered across the galaxy, just in case the Reapers come back one day." Liara shrugged. "We managed to kill most of them with Thanix cannons; you can find the blueprints in my databanks. Anyways, before I go, there is something I need to tell you."

Liara touched her chin in thought. Closer inspection of the hologram revealed that she looked quite old—no doubt well into the matriarch stage of her species.

"There was a man. A 'hero.' His name was Commander Shepard, and he led our resistance against the Reapers. I suppose you could call him a great man, although he did die tragically from eating twelve bowls of Turian soup at once. But there are a lot of lies out there in our time about the Commander—that he was replaced by a clone, that he was not a Nazi, that he was not so bad once you got to know him. The truth is that he was always the worst, all the time. But he did have one redeeming quality."

Liara blew her nose with a handkerchief.

"I can't remember it right now, though, so I'll have to come back and edit it in later. Bye!"