I'm, by my own omission, not a great person. I try every day to be the best I can possibly be but most of the time it's all for naught. I was raised in a good family with a good home and honestly a bit of a silver spoon but I never felt right or satisfied there. That's why I started to act out after High School ended but I was smart about it; no one ever caught me and no one knew about it. Hell, even the people who hired me didn't know what I looked like. Not even my best friends or family knew what I was doing during college.
I played baseball and went to school like any other college athlete but in the times where my free time was mine, I became immersed in the underworld. Easy to do, all things considered, a lot easier than what people made it out to be. Started simple too, ran some drugs across the state, minor corporate sabotage (warehouses up in flames), and the occasional attitude adjustment.
See, not that crazy for the first two years but after that, it got a little bit messier. I found out that killing didn't bother me and I was GOOD at it. I didn't enjoy or hate killing but I was indifferent to it. It just didn't matter to me and it became increasingly apparent that someone like me was highly valuable. Someone who could come in, make someone dead and then disappear with no motive, reason, or evidence left behind. The only thing they were ever able to get on me from the people I killed was a single drop of blood, which was contaminated with pneumonia. I wasn't an idiot, even made sure that when I used my gun I policed my brass (picked up the shells). It paid well and no one knew what I did, helped that it was an all-cash business too.
The only real problem with it in my mind was the fact that since it was a cash business it left you with little to do with the money. You can't really be putting a couple thousand in the bank out of nowhere in straight cash. Well, you could but then that involved bribing people you didn't know and trusting people you'll never meet with your money. Something that my paranoid brain would just not ever allow, instead I usually either recycled it back into the underworld. Meaning better gear and even invested in a couple of drug dealers. That was always hit or miss, had a guy make me 10k in 2 months but then another took the money and ran; I killed him in Houston a week after he ran.
What I'm really trying to say is that I had the smarts and education of the higher class but the willingness to get dirty of the lower class. I was an assassin and had even been in a couple of firefights, not my favorite thing to do but survivable. Not only that but above all else, I was paranoid and it had saved me a couple times in my time as an assassin. Either from backstabbing employers or extremely prepared targets. It never saved them but it sure as shit hurt; I had the scars to prove it. That being said, those were really hard to explain.
To family I would say they were from working construction, friends I would tell them it was from baseball. Thankfully, I had only ever been grazed by a bullet and sliced by a knife, never directly hit or truly stabbed. Made the excuses at least believable. Not to mention that I got pretty good at first aid and doing it myself because of those wounds. Which prompted me to study anatomy, made killing and attitude adjustments easier.
To be completely honest, the only thing I did when I wasn't doing contracts or baseball was play video games. Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Skyrim; those types of games. Mass Effect was always my favorite though, mostly because of the character development. Bioware was always able to just be perfect at that.
The types of games I played (ie: long AF) and my career didn't leave much room for relationships in my life. Though, if you can connect the dots, like sane people, then it should be obvious that I was in no condition to be in any type of relationship that lasted more than a night.
Still, for all that and everything I had done in my life up to that point you could never fully protect yourself from human stupidity. I was driving back to my apartment after a practice one day and got smoked. Some guy, going who knows how fast in a 25, while drunk ran a red light in his truck and slammed into the drivers' side of my car. My small-ass Chevy Cruze (I liked it because no one paid attention to it) versus a Dodge Ram 1500. Suffice it to say he sent me straight to god, same-day shipping. Which was how I got here.
"Well, you aren't supposed to be here yet." the voice was… well it was angelic. Kind of like how elves are described when they talk. Singsong ish.
"You death or an Angel?" God damn it man. Let's try not to piss off a being that could probably fuck my shit up with a thought. Okay, try again. "Uh, sorry about that. Just a bit on edge."
"I understand. You were taken before your time. You were meant to set things in motion but now will never get the chance." well, that's cool at least. God had a plan for me; yes I'm religious but I hate organized religion. Don't get it, get used to it cause I don't get it either and it's me.
"So… um, what was I meant to do if you don't mind me asking?" I hoped for something epic.
"You end up killing the wrong person four years from now and start WW3. Then you're the one to end it when you kill the leader of the New Axis."
"Not what I was expecting. Christ… did the world survive at least?"
"Of the 8 billion that were to be alive at the beginning only 300 million would survive."
"That's one way to do population control," I cursed myself after I said that expecting the being to be furious at my crap attempt at a joke but there was nothing.
"Hmm. That's one way to put it. It would propel your species to be united and consolidate its resources to leave your world and take the galaxy by storm. Alas, you died so it won't happen."
"Can't you send me back? I don't know, repair my body, you gotta be powerful if we're talking right now."
"If your body would ever recover from the accident I would've already. Alas, to put it in a way you would understand: your body is fucked beyond repair."
"So… What now?"
"I'll give you a new body in a new universe."
"Why can't you do that in mine?" I couldn't stop the heat from getting into my voice. Why send me somewhere else?
"In order to do what you were meant to do in your universe, you would need your body. A body beyond repair and before you ask that is how it is. The choices you made with your body made you into the person you were in that universe. It can't be replicated, those are the rules we abide by. It took me a lot of bargaining with the big man to even give you this option. Don't question it." I sighed but didn't argue. It felt like I got the short end of the stick here but well: Fuck it.
"Alright. What are my options?"
"Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, The Dragon's Revolution; wouldn't recommend that one you know nothing about it. Then there's Dragon Age, Skyrim and Mass Effect. Those are the univ-"
"Mass Effect," I cut them off but that's all I needed to hear. "Do I get to customize myself"
"Yes."
"What you got for me." and he… or is it a she… I don't know, couldn't tell with the voice. Either way, they explained it all to me and since it took about 3 hours for them to show me everything I'll just skip it all.
I had kept my face for the most part, really just made my cheeks not as puffy. Now, I wasn't going to win any beauty competitions but I looked pretty decent. Deep brown eyes, partially sunken eye sockets, a thin mouth but I did have lips so I couldn't be mistaken British and it was about average in size. My ears were a bit smaller than what you would believe to be average but oh well. The most important part about my face though was the eyebrows. Sounds weird yeah but with how they were, a little bushy and at a good angle. They were the type of eyebrows that made someone look furious when they wanted too and I used them in my last life for that purpose, might as well use them for the same one this time around. My hair was solid too; short brown hair in a basic fade with only an inch or two on top. Take Chris Hemsworth's hair but make it darker and with an actual fade and that's what it looked like.
As for my body in general I was about two inches taller than before so I am 6'1 now. Not to mention thinner. Still just as broad-shouldered as before but instead of having a body like a rock my body was definitely made for a swimmer. Lithe and powerful, no excessive muscle; a body built upon experience in combat and not in the weight room.
With everything else as a possibility for me, the being was rather kind. He/she whatever let me keep some of my skills and muscle memory that I had developed over the years but not all of them. Really, just enough to let me survive without having to completely redo my life. So maybe, just maybe I could help Sheperd. I mean, that was the plan anyway. It was nice of them/it to let me keep some of my skills but that's as far as it went. I got nothing else, hell they wouldn't even let me be a biotic. Bullshit if ya ask me but when an interdimensional being with a line to GOD says no, they mean NO. Still, I wanted just one more thing.
"Can I have my pistol?" I asked it as they had changed me into my new body.
"Why?"
"Sentimental value. It'll basically be useless in this universe but I still want it," I killed few people with my pistol, I only ever reserved it for the ones that truly deserved it. The pedos, politicians and rapists. People who needed to be dead and didn't deserve an open casket. A hollow-point round from a 1911 .45 cal would pop a head as it exited.
The thing is though, they never answered me. Instead, my vision went white and the next thing I knew water was surrounding me on all sides. Panicking slightly I started throwing my eyes every which way trying to find light but I didn't have to look far. It was already shining down upon me. Swimming up to the light I emerged above the water and immediately started swimming to the first shore I saw, not bothering to look around.
Getting there I laid on the ground for a couple minutes contemplating everything and looking up into the sky. Rather, the artificial sky of the god damn Citadel. It was as beautiful as they said in the games and looking upon the skyline brought a profound sense of melancholy. These people had no idea what was coming for them and even when presented evidence they wouldn't acknowledge it. Christ, if I wanted to do anything here it would be a lot of work. Realistically I couldn't do much though…
I have a good head for strategy, decent fighting ability, I can lie and bullshit with the best of them and I'm a damn good assassin but nothing else. I wasn't smart enough to do anything revolutionary, cunning enough to start a company and create prosperity. Hell, I sure as shit couldn't lead like Shepard could. I'm just another boot on the ground with nothing to his name… but not for long. I can't do a lot but I can do a lot; confusing but it kinda makes sense.
Who gives a shit anyway. I have a goal: fuck up the Reapers, look good doing it and save as many as possible. Control what you can control as my old coach used to say. Now, with what I can control it's time to make the best of it. First off, I need money and equipment; time to find the shady part of the Citadel.
Picking myself up off the ground and looking around I found that there was a small crowd watching me. They, thankfully, didn't look like the rich and pompous type I would find near the Presidium but the ones that looked like they had seen better days. Perfect. It got even better when I took a step forward. I felt the familiar weight of my pistol at the small of my back in its holster and 2 extra mags in their slots in the holster. Smiling as I continued on my way up to the small group I greeted them with a smile.
"Great day for a swim eh?" It took a couple of them off guard but I didn't care and just kept on walking. Still, I was probably a weird sight. A clean-shaven kid, barely 23, walked out of the river on the Citadel in loose blue jeans, running shoes and a jet black sweatshirt.
I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just to get off the beaten path. Took me almost a half-hour too before that was accomplished and once it was the first thing I did was go dumpster diving. The thing about dumpsters is that they have everything that you could want to make a knockoff silencer. True to form too it took me exactly five minutes to find all the things I would need. A bottle that looked plastic, couldn't tell, and then just a bunch of different rags and such stuffed into it. Taking out my pistol I checked to see that the muzzle could fit and it couldn't. Took me another couple minutes to find something sharp enough to cut it but I found it. Made it just a little bigger so I could press the muzzle to the rags, perfect.
Stuffing the makeshift silencer under my sweatshirt I started searching for a place to make contacts. That took me an hour of walking and when I found it, it came in the shape of a gun shop with the neon sign flashing open on the outside. Honestly, it was more surprising that neon signs were still around.
Walking in, I was treated to the smell of whisky, cigarettes and gunpowder. The door was even creaky. Walking up to the counter the human man behind it took one look at me and scoffed, thank Jesus he was human cause I didn't have a translator. Smiling at him as he took a big puff of his cig and blowing it out he looked completely disinterested.
"Get out of here kid," when the words left his mouth he stopped looking at me and looked down at his whisky and that's all the time I needed. Quicker than my old life my pistol was out of its holster and my makeshift silencer was out from under my sweatshirt. By the time he looked back at me he was staring at the silencer. His eyes damn near shot out of his skull, it was pretty funny to be honest.
"I'm new and illegal… obviously."
"So you thought to rob me?" he started to move his arm and in response, I pulled the hammer back on the pistol and arched an eyebrow at him. He wisely stopped moving.
"No actually." He cocked his head to the side minutely for a quick second before the realization hit him.
"You're looking for work?" I simply nodded my head and he gave me a small smile before putting his cig and whisky down, then his hands on the table. At that I returned his smile and put the pistol and makeshift silencer away.
"Nothing crazy or wet right now. Quick and rough," translation: No big jobs or assassination, underground fights preferred.
"Hmm, there's a couple parties around town. What's your poison?" Do I really need to translate everything? No.
"Anything mellow?" translation: straight fight with rules, with refs and betting.
"No, unfortunately. Only spicy or boiling," translation: spicy was no holds bard until one could not continue but with the rule of no ball shots or the equivalent; boiling: to the death.
"Where are the spicy ones?" he wrote down their addresses on a piece of paper and handed it to me. I took it.
"Got any Omni-tools and translators by the way?" he looked at me with wide eyes for a second before nodding.
"You really are new huh."
"Been a shitty couple weeks." He laughed openly at that.
"Fair enough kid. I'll give'em to ya free of charge but I expect payment after you win,"
"How about an investment? You keep the profit and I get my pick?" I gestured to the shop and it's weapons as a whole. He thought about it for a second before replying.
"You do 2 fights tonight and win both and consider it a done deal for 2 items. Everything else is at a discount for the length of your stay."
"How good is your connection?" He simply smiled.
"I'm a former grey-black kid. I got everything." Grey-black: black-ops mercenary. The one hired when bad shit had to be done.
"Deal. Don't fuck me old man." I said as I extended my hand.
"The same to you kid," and we shook hands.
Well, the old man and I talked for several hours after that. It was kind of cool to talk to the guy. You could definitely tell that this guy had seen some shit and was experienced. Not as much as Zaeed or Wrex but a good amount and true to his word he was definitely connected. He showed me the stash I was about to get my hands on. He had some insane shit there and most of it would take a while to fully understand, the technology gap and all that. Still, just from what I remember from the games a lot of his stuff was either top of the line or not even supposed to be out yet.
Here's something too. I'm two years early. It's 2181. Mass Effect 1 doesn't start until 2183*. I have plenty of time to figure out what the hell I need to do and become infamous enough to get onto the Normandy.
I looked up Shepard. Nothing. The only way that's possible is if they're an Earther and sole survivor. In other words, a complete wildcard in every sense of the word. They could become anything. Paragon, Renegade, a mix. Who knows. I won't know until I meet them.
That's probably years off from now anyways. No reason to dwell on it. Only thing to dwell on right now was the fist from the Salarian that was about to hit my chin. And hit it, it did. Not too hard but definitely packed a decent punch. The overgrown amphibian was slippery and quick, he knew how to fight.
Deflecting his follow-up kick with my hands I sent a chop with my right hand to his neck. It shouldn't have connected but did anyways, we had been fighting for a couple of minutes and he was getting tired. Just tired enough for the chop to get through and it was like his whole body froze up. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth I delivered a roundhouse kick to the dude's knee, buckling it and forcing him to his knees.
He was able to deflect my next punch and grab onto my arm but he wasn't able to lock it, just hold onto it. This allowed me to use the other half of my body and deliver a solid punch right to his gut with my left hand. Completely knocked the wind out of him and he released my right hand. That's what ended the fight.
Once my right arm was released, I grabbed the back of his head and violently slammed his face into the ground. Completely dazing him and that's all I needed to finish it. Straddling his back I got him into a rear-naked choke. He was passed out in seconds and the fight was called as soon as he went limp. It may have been a no-holds bard but no one wanted to clean up a dead body. Bad for business.
Standing up from the limp body I walked over to the side and collected my winnings from the ringmaster. He held up four fingers and I nodded my head. Walking away from him I made my way to the old man who was sitting at the bar sipping on some whisky. He didn't even say anything when I walked up. Merely ordered another whisky and held out his hand to me. Giving him the credit chits he handed me the whisky that he had just ordered. I didn't even get one gulp down before I was spitting it out.
"What the hell is that?!" I exclaimed while holding it as far from me as possible.
"Ryncol."
"Go to hell old man. Are you trying to kill me?" he chuckled before taking it from my hands and drinking it all in one go. I was flabbergasted. "You're crazy."
"I brought you here and made an investment on ya kid. Of course I'm crazy. Now, when's your next fight?"
"Got four more fights then I'm up again," grabbing the stool next to him I pulled it out before sitting on it and looked at him pointedly.
He didn't even acknowledge me but he did throw his hands up at the bartender and then point to me. It was an Asari with light pink markings around her forehead and eyebrows. She had white markings on her chin to compliment them and with her violet skin tone, it made for an eye-catching combination. Not to mention she had a dazzling smile but anyone could tell that she was ready and willing to fight you. The bulge at her hip showed as such.
"What can I get for you?" another dazzlingly disarming smile but I answered all the same.
"Just a beer please."
"IPA, craft, local or imported?" Christ, just give me a beer woman.
"Surprise me but make it cheap" I vocalized instead of my inner thoughts. She sent me another smile and reached under the bar before bringing up a goddamn Busch lite. I am astounded they're still in business. Popping it open and tasting I did chuckle a little. It tasted the exact same.
We enjoyed our drinks in silence for a bit and I let my mind wander. What exactly was my plan? Get money for one and that's what I was doing but what else. No major changes should be made so I really can't do anything big. But there's gotta be work around here for someone like me. Who am I kidding, there's always work for people like me. Only problem is how to go about it since I have no contacts here.
I quickly asked for a second beer and the Asari barmaid got me one immediately. She seemed to be giving me a wary look but I simply waved it off. Probably just didn't like that I was an unknown and hadn't acknowledged her rather impressive looks.
The old man seems like the best bet but I don't trust him, then again I don't really trust people in general. He'll be my best bet but I'll have to choose my jobs carefully. Getting on the Shadow Brokers or Cerberus' radar is something I want to avoid. Same with C-Sec, can't really help Shepard if I'm wanted. Ah, it is what it is; it'll be something that'll have to be dealt with when I get jobs. For now, though, there was no point in worrying about everything. Just prove myself now and get the old man to set me up with a quick job or two.
"Oi, kid. You're up," the voice of the old man knocked me out of my train of thought.
Looking over at the ring the crowd was now looking at me with apprehension. Okay, well that can't be good. Downing the rest of the beer I got up off my stool and walked over to the ring. Getting into the ring I got to my corner in silence. It was completely silent, something was wrong. Scanning the crowd and for anything to tell me what was going on my eyes fell on an Asari in blue armor making her way towards the ring. My thoughts were summed up in one word.
"Fuck."
It was Tela Vasir. A goddamn Spectre. The one from The Lair of the Shadow Broker DLC from the second Mass Effect. She was a mini-boss and if I'm being honest she was harder than the Shadow Broker. Why in the hell was she here, she could probably kick my ass 7 ways from Sunday. Even if I could win, minuscule chance, would I want to? I win, and I'm immediately on the Shadow Broker's radar. I lose and the deal the old man and I made is gone. Honestly, I'd rather lose but my pride and arrogance reared their ugly heads. I wouldn't take a flop. If I was going to lose, it was because she was better, which being honest shouldn't be all that hard for her. So yeah. 'Fuck' was a pretty solid way of describing my situation. I decided to voice my displeasure, let's see how this shit show goes.
"Why the fuck is a Spectre here?" she didn't even respond to me. She merely smiled and started to take off her armor.
It revealed she was wearing only a sports bra as her top which made sense with that armor; looked restrictive. She started to stretch in front of me and I, along with about every other guy, started to ogle her. Toned in all the right places without being overly muscled or fat and good uh… proportions everywhere she looked to be about a solid 10. Maybe even a 12.
There was something off about her movements as she started to stretch. She was too stiff, especially at her left hip and shoulder. Injury maybe? I don't know for sure but something was off. She definitely didn't have full use of her left side. It really shouldn't matter though, she'll still kick my ass. I can at least make her work for it, maybe.
When she was done stretching she looked at me and our eyes connected. It was surreal, staring into her eyes. Not because they were beautiful, which they were, but because of everything I saw there. There was knowledge, experience, rage, and a startling amount of intelligence. It was obvious that she'd be smart but under her gaze it felt like she knew not only every move I would make but knew everything about me too. Like she was peering into my soul. It was… unsettling.
Getting into a low, defensive stance our eyes never drifted from the other and she still stood there. Unmoving and undaunted, she continued to stare me down, seemingly calculating my every move. It went on like this for almost a full minute before she moved and my god could she move. It was like she was graced with the fluidity of angels and her punches were like lightning. So fast my eyes could barely follow and when I blocked the first with my forearm it felt like it was hit by literal lightning. It jarred my whole body and she tried to follow it up with a sucker punch from her left hand.
I barely avoided it dodging to her left and on instinct sent a punch with my left hand right at her hip. Usually would've gone for a body or kidney shot but with her left hip being a weak point it was first. She tried to avoid it but she had committed to the uppercut and with her hip being the way it was she couldn't get out of the way. It connected and I didn't even bother trying to follow it up, preferring to go the dark soul's route here and stay away. Still, the damage had been done and from the way she seethed and stared me down, I knew I had made a mistake in trying to fight. As soon as the anger was there it was gone and her eyes began to reevaluate me. Not so much respect but a little appreciation. Guess she wanted me to fight her.
She spared exactly no time after that though and came at me with what I'm going to say was her everything just so I can feel a little better about myself. Still, over the next five minutes, the combos and fluidity she moved at was frightening. Like being hit with a hammer every time she connected. That was her punches… her kicks were another story entirely. One of her first ones had connected with my left upper arm and I was starting to lose feeling in it.
She, of course, did not miss that and began to brutalize my right side. No quarter and no mercy she came after me and all I could do was try and dodge them. I was, surprisingly, able to get some hits on her every now and again but nothing major. She controlled the fight handedly and every time I tried to turn the tables she just flipped it back to me. She was a legitimate master at hand to hand. Eventually, I played dirty, it was no holds barred.
Dropping to a knee to dodge a particularly nasty spinning elbow from her I threw a punch into her crotch. It connected and she damn near jumped through the roof with how she reacted. It got several gasps from the crowd and some deep laughter from the Krogen present. Tela looked to be hyperventilating and held up a single finger while looking at me positively livid. Being the supreme asshole that I prided myself on being I ignored the warning.
As soon as she looked away from me to try and get her breathing back under control I took two steps and drop kicked her. She went sprawling onto the ground and I tried to mount her but she was able to wrap her legs around me before that could happen. She then proceeded to squeeze them and let me tell you, having your sides squeezed hurts like few things. There was a way out of it though.
Raising my arms in a feigned attack she brought up her guard but instead of attacking her I brought both my elbows down on her kneecaps as hard as I could. It had the desired effect as her legs went slack around my side. Moving to get them off me completely I didn't expect her to rise up and throw a punch at my face. As soon as it connected my world went black.
"Rise and shine kid," I could hear the old man's voice as someone was slapping me across the face. That got me up right quick, asshole.
"Asshole," he was one. Starting to sit up I recognized that we were back at the old man's shop and began to subtly check for exits. Tela must've hit me really hard if he was able to get me back here before I woke up.
"I should be calling you that for what you did," came a voice from behind I didn't recognize. Turning around, Tela Vasir was looking down at me with her armor back on and a cigarette in her mouth. I opened my mouth but nothing came and we just stared at each other before she reached for her belt and grabbed a packet of cigs and offered one to me. I politely declined.
"Don't smoke. If you got pouches I'll take them but I'm good," a small chuckle escaped the old man and looking back at him he was smiling at me.
"Knew I liked you for more than just one reason kid," he reached around his backside and handed me a tin. "Keep the can kid," opening it up I grabbed a pouch and put it in my bottom lip.
"Why is a Spectre here?" I asked them both as I looked at Tela.
"Frankie here called me after your conversation earlier."
"Frankie?" I looked at the old man. He merely shrugged and gave me a small smile.
"It's Frank. She just likes to call me Frankie."
"Okay… so what does this have to do with me?" Frank said nothing but looked at Tela. She took a long drag of her cig before talking.
"A kid. Who knows how to make a makeshift silencer, owns an old, untraceable pistol. Quick enough to surprise Frank, drinking or not, and seems to know his way around the underworld. He called me because he sees potential in you."
"Not to mention, that your first instinct here is to look for exits," that was Frank. Well, I had hoped they wouldn't notice me but oh well.
"Where's this all going?"
"Kid," Frank stared down at me and I mean stared. The type you only really see from people in leadership or your parents, the type of stare that made you just shut up and listen. "I called Telly here," she snorted at that, "after our talk earlier and I asked her to set up your fights. That Salarian you fought first was a former STG operative. Admittedly, he wasn't a very good one and on the wrong side of his short lifespan but he was one nonetheless. And you beat him handedly. A human kid who came out of nowhere."
"So, who are you," Tela said as I felt the barrel of a pistol on my head. Slowly turning around to look her dead in the eyes I spoke
"An Assassin," spitting my dip spit onto the floor I heard Frank groan before he put a bottle into my hand.
"Who's your target?" she continued
"No one. Almost got burned on the last job. N7's were watching the guy," time to bullshit to the highest degree, let's go imagination! "He was wanted for sex trafficking and a family of one of the kids he took hired me to kill him."
"The N7's make you?" Frank asked as he threw out his dip and took out one of his own cigarettes lighting it.
"I would've never made it here if they did." I stated simply shrugging my shoulders.
"You get your target?" that was Tela and I could hear the curiosity in her voice.
"Yes."
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air as Tela looked at Frank. They seemed to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before she took the gun away from my face. Holstering her pistol she extended her hand to me and when I grabbed it she hoisted me up. Only to swing her fist into my stomach and completely knocked the wind out of me, sending me back down to the ground.
"That's for punching me in the crotch," I was still wheezing but I nodded in understanding at her. "He's all yours Frank. Don't get caught kid," and with that she left out the front door and disappeared into the night. Looking back at Frank he was standing now and smiling.
"Imma get you in shape kid. Your CQC* needs work, as does your endurance. We'll see about your shooting soon enough," finally getting my breath back I pushed myself onto my knees.
"You my handler now?"
"And personal trainer but yeah. I'll make you the best."
"And when I leave?"
"As long as you've never screwed me over, which I'm sure you're smart enough not to when I got a Spectre backing me, you'll be free to go. Still, I expect you to stay at least a year."
"I can do that. What exactly are you training me for by the way?"
"Telly likes to make investments in people. She's an Asari after all, they make long-term bets all the time. She probably saw something that told her you'll be useful in the future."
"I can live with that."
This day went from pretty shit to a solid day overall. Let's hope this doesn't come back to bite me in the ass. Who am I kidding, of course it will. But right now I know one thing.
I'm not a good person. I've killed, and will continue to. However, here and now I have a chance to be better. To make the galaxy better and I'm going to take it. No matter what I have to go through, what I have to endure. I will help Shepard create a better galaxy, even at the cost of my life I will help create a better galaxy.
AN: Hey y'all. This is my first chapter for my ME series. It's been a while since I did any writing here. Just never had the time or a good idea really.
*1: It's 2181 right now in the story but it won't be long before ME1 begins here. At max 20k words (about 2 more chapters)
*2: CQC: close-quarters combat.
*This was brought to my attention by a reviewer for the 1911 when he pulls it on Frank in the early part of the chapter. They said that the 1911 is a single action and would be useless unless the hammer is pulled back. Now, that is correct for the older models but on the newer ones you don't have to pull back the hammer before firing. Doing so decreases the time it takes the gun to fire a bullet but isn't needed to make it fire. I know this because I currently own that type of 1911.
If y'all have any questions, critiques or anything please don't be afraid to PM me or review.
All I got otherwise to say is that if you don't like it that's fine but I would appreciate some constructive criticism. I want my writing to get better and I want to give the best story I can.