Based on the vid-game series, Mass Effect, developed by BioWare.

"The Assassin and The Butcher"

Chapter 1

"Forgive us not, for we choose not to repent for these joys that bring us into sin." Commander Bradyn Shepard, Battle Prayer Prior to the Invasion of Torfan.

He met him on Illium in the Dantius Towers. A phoenix of destruction wreaking chaos, he pursued him through the building. He was not alone. There were two others, two humans with biotics. Perhaps as lethal, but he could tell they were reserved in their display of force. Their leader, his phoenix, was violence pure and simple. He was also loud.

Explosions shook the building, under renovation for Nassana Dantius's new mode of fashion. He worried somewhat that the salarians he had locked away and hidden from the kill squads would succumb not to bullet wounds, but to the tower collapsing because the foundations were rocked at the very roots. It was a skeletal structure, ventilated by open walls as well as walls being opened by the armored soldier hunting him. He was certain they were looking for him, they only asked every salarian they met along the way.

As Nassana Dantius lay upon the desk, hands folded neatly over the bullet hole in her abdomen, he watched the phoenix raise its wings and unclasp the seals beneath the helmet hiding his face. The man and the woman stood to either side behind him, watching him with uncertainty. He stood with his back to the three of them, waiting for a bullet to strike him in the head and finalize the pain he had endured for so long. Instead, a female voice called his attention, and he turned in surprise.

"Are you Thane Krios?"

Here he had been expecting a man underneath the heavy greaves and gauntlets, not this siha with red blazing hair and emotional green eyes. Thane's words were lost. Trying to find his speech, he waited for her to come closer. The red lips moved sensually, full of expression.

"I don't have a lot of time, but seeing you haven't denied it, I'll assume you are. My name is Bradyn Shepard. I've come to offer you a proposition, to help me find the Collectors and stop them from abducting human colonists. I'm building a team of what the galaxy has to offer of the best men and women out there, and Cerberus is funding the payroll. There are no limits to what we can do, only obstacles which I guarantee we will surmount. I was brought back from the dead, if you need an example, and I've overcome greater odds with the help of the men and women I lead. Will you join us? Do you speak? Is my translator even working?"

"I understood every word you said," Thane replied, the smile curving his lips and arching his brow, "and I have heard of you. You have quite the reputation, although. . . I believed Commander Bradyn Shepard was a man. You certainly fight like one, and you lack the finesse of the women I meet, but here you are."

"I get that a lot. Not many women with the name Bradyn," she replied, shouldering her rifle and crossing her arms under the chest plates of her N7 armor.

She was formidable, and confident. Thane stepped around the desk and approached her, ignoring the aim of the other two guns that were focused exclusively on him. Where he stopped was right before the commander, seeing if she would turn away against his gaze. She was his height, and she did not look away. Thane admired the red hair framing her face and the spots on her skin, freckles he learned later. She was exotic, too perfect to be a soldier. Something about this phoenix told him fire should be in her wake, and she needn't have any additional arms to support her.

"You are a remarkable specimen," Thane said, more to himself than she. "May I inquire as to whether more humans come with such exquisite patterning and ferocious personalities?"

"Only me, but redheads are common enough on Earth we're not considered too rare. I happen to be a little more trigger happy and impatient than the rest."

"You know what they say about redheads," the dark-skinned man said.

The brunette with the blue eyes beside him scoffed and swayed her hips into a bored position. "Looks like we have our assassin."

"I did not accept yet," Thane reminded the brunette, then looking at Bradyn, "you do realize I come with a very high cost."

She smiled. "Like I said, obstacles that we will surmount. You want more than what my employer offers, I'm sure they're up to negotiation."

They went to a bar on the lower valley of Nos Astra, winding their way through several rotaries and keeping up with the flow of air traffic. Thane permitted himself to sit in the back alongside Bradyn, who continued to look him over with intense curiosity. Where they ended up was at the Ill Diagnosis, which served several brands of drinks per species. The other female, Miranda Lawson, reminded Bradyn and the male, Jacob Taylor, to avoid signing anything. Even if it resembled a receipt.

"There's no need, as all purchases are streamlined to our omnitools. However, anything we purchase will bypass your device and receive permission for invoicing strictly from mine. Same goes for you, Mr. Krios." Miranda tilted her head at him and gave him a look to ask if he understood.

"You are a condescending woman," he observed, "and slightly prejudiced."

"Don't mind Miss Perfect Genes over there, Thane," Bradyn soothed, "she's just acting the role of ice queen and it requires her to look down on everyone. If you just listen to the words and ignore the pert little facial expressions and bored tones, you'll get to know her better and she's not all that bad."

Bradyn raised her glass to Thane and the others. "To our new addition. I hope you can play nice." She drank the blue liquor and banged the glass on the table.

Thane smiled at her show. The others drank their selections and Thane sipped a small shot of drell whiskey. Bradyn raised her eyebrows at the scent of the liquor and leaned closer, pushing past Jacob between them. "What is that?"

"Dahlk roh. It's a drink among my people. We typically drink it at new beginnings."

He raised his brow and offered his to her, not mentioning anything of his venom. Thane simply wanted to know if she knew, and she did. Bradyn held up a hand, by now Jacob having moved out of the way and joined Miranda on the opposite side of her.

"I think I read somewhere that drell are poisonous. If I drink that after your mouth's been on it, which isn't happening for personally hygienic reasons anyway, would I get poisoned?"

"You can drink from the other lip."

Bradyn eyed him, unsure of his intention. Seeing no danger, she took the offered glass and tasted the liquor by a sip before handing it back to him. She bobbed her head with approval. Jacob elbowed her from behind and Thane watched the phoenix's face twist with annoyance.

"What do you want, Taylor? I'm having a drink here."

"Getting high off drell venom too. You still need to brief the crew on our new friend. Don't get shitfaced like last time."

Bradyn narrowed her eyes, but her face relaxed and she shrugged at Thane. "I'm a hard drinker. And I like to mix things up. Sometimes I get a little too wild, and this new body has a fast metabolism compared to my former one."

"You have a new body?"

"Well, it's mine, but regenerated from the corpse it used to be. Cheers!"

He finished his shot, enjoying her company. They eventually left, the commander slightly inebriated against Jacob's admonition. During the ride back to the Normandy, Thane could not take his eyes off the woman who was singing badly to an unamused Miranda in the front seat.

Observing Bradyn Shepard on the Normandy, Thane noticed the crew only came to her when they were required. Otherwise they scattered. She seemed to a have a violence about her that was on not only in combat, but during moments of rest. The few companions who humored the tumultuous woman as she swore through the Combat Information Center were the helmsman and the medical officer, Joker and Karin. Bradyn did exhibit a particular gentleness and affection towards the fragile Joker, whom Thane discovered had a condition that made his bones prone to easy breakage. Toward the doctor, Bradyn acted as a daughter under a watchful mother's eye. She obeyed the woman, but went off to be naughty when Karin was out of eyeshot. There were antics among the rest of the crew, the chief science officer leading most of the clever pranks against his less intellectual cohorts. Mordin Solus found it highly entertaining to surprise everyone with jokes about accidental toxic exposures and commented openly on sexual differences between the present species aboard the Normandy. The turian, Garrus, was another one of Bradyn's fondly regarded companions. He constantly calibrated everyone's guns as well as the ship's own, and cursed the ruling artificial intelligence, EDI, for constantly resetting his measurements unless he provided founded reason. Other occupants aboard the Normandy included several engineers and a skeleton crew of extra hands for daily operations or mess duty.

"What do you think of the commander?" Kelly Chambers, the crew's psych evaluator, found him alone in his quarters.

She had red hair and freckles such as Bradyn, but the similarities stopped there. Kelly was curious and delicate. Thane could see this was a female who would easily break if stressed. That must have been the reason for hiring her into such a sensitive role. She tread carefully, but was friendly and disarming with her innocence.

"She frightens people," Thane replied.

"Yourself included?"

"Hardly," he chuckled, "I've dealt with far more dangerous than a cantankerous human woman. I find her fascinating."

Kelly jumped her eyebrows, seated across from him in life support. "She finds you interesting too, but yeah, Shepard's intense. She has a lot of anger. Be careful if you try to get to know her."

Intrigued by Kelly's mysterious assertions, Thane could not resist approaching the commander as she sat alone in the cockpit of the Normandy. She was staring out the overhead windows, talking to the ship's AI about the cosmos, dreams, and living. Thane stood back and eavesdropped for as long as he dared, fully aware that the AI knew he was present yet chose not to greet him in the middle of its conversation with Bradyn.

A moment passed of silence and Bradyn rubbed her eyes, rolling out her lips and swiveling restlessly in the chair. She paused suddenly, then twisted in her seat to spy him leaned up against the frame of the cockpit.

"Did you say hi and my translator glitched, or are you just waiting for me to notice you."

He unfolded his arms and walked casually over to her, taking position against the control panel at her left. "I was waiting to see how long you ignored me."

"Ignore you? Moi?" Bradyn smiled, her teeth showing and filling him with pleasure. "I knew you were there. I wanted to see how long it would take for you to come up and say hello, or if you were just too shy."

Thane set his hands on his knees. "I am hardly one to be called shy."

"Fine. Not shy. What are you skulking around in the shadows for then?"

They shared a chuckle and Thane turned his gaze to appreciate her from the side. "I'd like to know more about you, Commander."

"Please, call me Bradyn. Jacob calls me Commander and I usually kick his ass for it during training."

"Very well. . . Bradyn. I'd be interested. . ." He had to pause and look at her with a mischievous smile. "Maybe I should continue calling you Commander. I'd very much enjoy seeing how you compete against me in a challenge."

Recalling how well he moved through those asari commandos when he dropped out of the ceiling in Nassana Dantius's office, Bradyn hesitated and ultimately declined. "You know, I think I'd get my ass beat if I challenged you in hand to hand. So I'll stick to my guns, thanks, and you can call me Sally for as long as you move the way you did on Nos Astra."

Disappointed, Thane relaxed backwards and crossed his arms. "Tell me something about yourself, Bradyn. I have heard the title bestowed to you by refugees of Torfan. The Shepard Butcher."

She nearly beamed with pride at the title. Sitting up, she recounted the memory of a life past lived. Thane listened as she regaled him with her landing at the colony and being among the first to punish the batarian slavers who had blitzed the Skyllian Verge only a year earlier. The retaliation was warranted, she claimed, and a lesson fraught with as much enemy death as possible was necessary to send a signal to the rest of the galaxy that humans were not to be trifled with, that slavery of her people was a death sentence to the offender as well as the victim. Her eyes glowed with the passion of that encounter where she troubled the dealers with their early demises at the end of her rifle, blade, and bare hands. "There's nothing more thrilling than getting into the thick of it with your men by your side screaming battle cries like some medieval clan of warriors." She was krogan in a human body. Thane lifted his chin and shook his head at her colorful account.

"When we landed, they were waiting for us, but it didn't matter," she went on, "we were a hornet's nest, pissed off and looking for a way in through their barricades. Alliance gave us permission to use our ordinance against them, and we blasted away until the shields fell and the doors blew off their hinges. That morning was filled with so much blood and screaming, I'm sure we traumatized those batarians who survived, though I don't believe more than fifty did. I went from shelter to shelter exterminating everyone, and the only people left standing were the women and children they had barred up for selling. I made enemies that day, but no one who I would have allied myself with in hindsight. The message was sent. Don't fuck with us. I drove two crawlers into a fallout shelter to find the lead raiders' hideaway and flushed them out. No one was forgotten. Nothing was left standing. Might as well have written our names on the entire site. We owned the place."

"You relish the battle."

"I love it. I'm good at it. I live and breathe only for the moment to be up close and personal, to see fear in the stare before the life leaves. I've seen it countless times and experienced my own. . . Don't you? Enjoy your kills, I mean."

"I. . . was taught not to. I barely was aware of what I was doing when I attacked. My mind was always separate."

"You say was as though something changed and you know what I'm talking about."

"I had something happen in my life that might have opened my eyes a little. I do not know what it is like to watch myself die."

"Yeah, not many do. I was spaced after the first Normandy was attacked by Collectors. I watched myself die in the reflection of my visor. Sounds poetic."

Thane and Bradyn listened to the peaceful hum of the ship, the stars moving passed the window up above them. "What was it like?" He dared to ask.

"Serene. Acceptance. No more panic. . ."

"You remember your death even after you were brought back to life?"

"My memories are intact. The Lazarus Project was truly miraculous. Millions of credits, enough to fund an army, were put into my reconstruction, and the ice queen you so casually call rude did most of the work."

"Well, she is. You yourself admit as much."

She poked out her lips and shrugged. "Yeah, I did."

"What is the first step in reconstruction?"

"Finding the body evidently." She pushed up off the chair and walked around the other side. Thane's head followed her as she rounded the corner of her seat and played with the swivel. "My body landed on Alchera's moon with the rest of the Normandy's wreckage. Frozen tundra, sub-zero temperatures. . . a little freezer burn on an otherwise well-preserved body."

"If you came out looking as you are now, you were very well-preserved."

He gave her a smile and she recognized the compliment, inclined to warn him about professional parameters as they related to superiors and their subordinates. Thane did not consider himself her subordinate, though he had accepted her proposal to have him join the team.

"I wish, but my body was far, far from what you see right now. I think it was like, charcoal brick. It's a black, ashy substance, porous, rough. Burns well."

"So you were closer to kindling?"

Laughter that was light and airy lifted from her throat. "Probably could have served either purpose."

"What, kindling and siha?"

The smile faltered on her mouth and she narrowed her eyes in consideration. With a look of curiosity, she caught him in her gaze. "What does siha mean?"

Thane lifted away from his lean-to and stepped over to the chair, considering whether or not he should sit in it or if Joker might be offended anyone other than the commander would dare subject his leather to their pores. Instead he gripped the chair, perhaps a hand's breadth from Bradyn's.

"Siha means warrior, and more aptly an angel of battle. Put forth by the light of our gods to protect what they deem worthy. In your case, you would be sent to safeguard the lives of your species. As you have done against the slavers, perhaps the Collectors next." His brow twitched up, teasing her to vehemently reprove him for any doubt in her chances.

"I'll get them, and I'll make sure they pay." Hot injustice broiled in her eyes, the memories of her final end haunting the edge of her vision. Her fingers curled up, nails digging into the top of the leather chair. "They were lucky when they found me. We were seeking geth out in the edge of space when they ambushed us. It's like they knew where we'd be and cleaved the ship into shreds. Most of my crew escaped, and Joker. . . Joker was last." Her hand smoothed the indented leather, caressing it lovingly. "I wouldn't let him die with the ship, so I came up front for him. The bastard wouldn't go to the escape pod, so by the time I dragged him out of his chair, he had a broken arm and the Collector beam was coming up the galley. I didn't have time."

"So you saved Joker and sacrificed yourself with the ship."

Her green eyes looked into his. "It's only a sacrifice if you make it deliberate. I screwed up and died, plain and simple. My crew is nothing without me holding them together, despite the fact I terrify them when I'm on deck."

"I see you notice your impact on them all."

She snorted and her face tightened in good humor. "Of course, I notice when no one hangs around to chit chat. Except Joker, but he can't move fast and besides, he's helmsman. Garrus and Karin can handle me, only because Karin knows I'm at her mercy when I'm injured. Garrus always has had my six, and he's got a damn good aim too. Plus he's a pain in the ass to train with since his reach is so far. Then there's you, but I think it's because you don't know any better."

"Really," he growled, a matter of the quality of his voice and notsomuch his feeling at the moment, "what if I informed you that your opinion is wrong, and I simply am not intimidated by you."

Bradyn was set back a bit by his close presence. She turned slightly and moved towards the exit. "Maybe you should be."

He leaned against the chair, finding her distance amusing. "Are you happy to be as you are? Rebuilt from the dead? Once again among the living, siha?"

She made a face at the use of the term, finding it funny that he should have a nickname for her in place already. "I haven't quite decided if I would use the term happy, or just resigned."

"Resigned. . . an interesting word to describe yourself as. Resigned to living?"

"Resigned from the Alliance, resigned from death, resigned from. . . whatever else, my own life or making my own choices? What do you think, Thane? Should I be happy that they couldn't leave me in peace? That there's no world beyond the one we live in?"

He followed her across the cockpit, down through the galley and into the CIC. "You sound disappointed because you saw that there is nothing after this life, and now you must live knowing nothing waits for you in death. So then you must realize that life is worth living."

"I do," she said, reflecting on his observation, "and if you were a wise man, you'd realize that suicide by impossible odds is an unacceptable choice for you."

He stopped, staring at her as she walked on towards the lift. Bradyn had nailed it in the head, his death wish for himself. Was she telling him that she knew because she wanted to challenge his determination, or did she say it to discourage him completely?

"How old are you, Bradyn?"

"Twenty-six," she said, turning in the lift to pass him a smile, "why do you ask?"

"I am nearly thirty-nine, and I have barely lived my own life. Yet you have lived and died, and begun your second life, wisdom intact from the first. Consider the possibility that this is what the universe holds in store for us after death, second chances and a continuation."

She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows in realization that what he had just said made sense. Perhaps this was her afterlife, after all. "Considered," was all she uttered as the door closed.

The sound came through the vents and caused Thane to look up from his book on Human Roman Mythology. He had found it tucked into a corner of life support, a sign of someone having sought the corner for their own private freedoms. Thane knew enough of the human language to read it and sound out the characters within his head, sometimes testing the words on his lips and tongue. The noise he was hearing sounded vocal, soft and labored with grief. Placing down the book, he sought the vent in the wall above his table and stepped onto the hard footholds to raise himself higher. Pressing his ear to the vent, he listened.

Throughout the ship, those who were not distracted by conversation or music could hear the soft sobs ghosting through the ventilation system. The AI even paid attention, knowing in truth where the source was yet choosing not to give it away. Down in engineering, not one could hear through the heavy thrums and vibrations of the core warming the ship's belly. In medical, port, observation, and the gunnery as well as in the CIC, all those present and quiet enough turned their ears to listen.

"EDI, can you locate whoever's crying?"

"I am unable to find the signal, Joker."

He frowned at the AI's obtuseness, but let the matter die. What good would it be if she told him, she being the AI that Joker and the rest of the crew identified as female. Joker scanned through the faces of the Normandy in his mind, discriminately thinking it would be a woman heard crying in the vents, and two names came to bear, but neither would have been correct had the answer been revealed.

No one knew where it was coming from or who was producing it, only that it occurred every so often over the weeks since the team had started to collect its members. The sobbing was always the same, mournful and melancholy. It echoed through the shafts and out of the vents, particularly elusive if one tried to follow it. Few did, because no one really wanted to find out. They were all trained for particular purposes, none of which were to counsel. Even Kelly Chambers made a weak effort to locate the crying. It was better to let out, than to hold in. Disturbing the victim would only cause further embarrassment, and people needed to be left alone when they wanted.

Turning off the shower, Bradyn dried her face and hair with a towel. She felt refreshed, ready for the next batch of missions once she was dressed and her hair out of the way. Showering always left her feeling good and relaxed, particularly after a hot one. She liked the redness on her arms, chest, and back from beating droplets, and made sure to lather up with enough lotion to prevent her skin from chapping and drying. The best way to earn a bacterial infection was to neglect the skin, and any time they restocked it could be assumed there would be plenty of moisturizer in the order. Space was cold and dry, as Bradyn well knew from her own experience drifting in its vacuum. She had learned really from the notes she had read of her reconstruction, carefully written and detailed by Miranda's hand. They could be telling her anything, but Bradyn tended to believe Miranda's careful note-taking.

Thane opened his omnitool and started typing. Kolyat was on his mind, and so it should be that a father should reconnect with his son through whatever means available. He tried describing the current trajectory of his life without really giving his son much information, a frustrating endeavor as he could not write too much without compromising their mission. He attempted to extoll on the effect Kolyat's mother's death had on him, and that she had spurred him to seek vengeance on her killers. Be that for a different time, something more face to face. Maybe he should give it a rest and practice writing to his brother and sister-in-law. That might be a good start, but alas he had nothing to say. The phoenix with the red hair and green eyes kept wandering into his vision, and Thane put down his omnitool and invited her in for a spell. She was unlike anything he ever expected in a human, only comparable to his first wife, Irikah. There was no sunset in her eyes. That being so, he did see a sunrise. One that he did not want to share, and it was a blazing halcyon glory.

Siha, human, phoenix, woman, who was this Bradyn that had come thundering into his life? He wanted to know more about her and write, telling her story to himself if not anyone else. The woman was incredibly strong yet beneath her armor façade there was a fragility that he wanted to hold and admire. He was afraid to, which was why he forced himself to engage with her when the opportunities arose. To be aggressive, but cautious. This was no woman who took to frailty outside of her own, and probably hated that which existed inside her. To hold her and let her scream it out, that was what he could do. And if he had to do it by offending her, he would try everything. She liked battle, and Thane had to admit he liked that she liked the violence and ethos that came with it. Thane's battles had been silent, in his missions as well as his mind. They were not pop and bang and explosion, such as what Bradyn was used to. . .

He knew what to write, and so began a letter to himself. Amused at his own childishness, he blamed it on the phoenix capturing his attention.

I met a siha the other day. She is human, red hair, green eyes, pale skin overlaid with a delicate red pigmentation that brightens when she blushes from anger, alcohol, or laughter. Her name is Bradyn Shepard, and I was shocked to learn my assumption of the notorious Butcher of Torfan has been incorrect. Not a man, but a beautiful, exquisite, well-designed human female with the fierceness of Arashu protecting her children. I am drawn to Bradyn, as much as I was drawn to dear Irikah. It is different this time around, because I am finding that I have learned much from my experience with Irikah in the beginning days of our relationship. I'm not saying I am interested in Bradyn as much, that would be preposterous given that she is another alien and poorly matched for a drell such as I. . . but I can't stop thinking about her. I want to impress her, discover more of her. I want to enjoy this creature that tries to lead me, and will soon know she cannot. Perhaps I will admit it now and never again. After all, this message will only be deleted when I am done finishing my thoughts. But I am captivated.

To be continued. . .