The Illusive Man.

How utterly pretentious.

That was all Jane could think as it became clear he was meeting via hologram rather than in person, even for her. Billions of his credits to make her, and he wouldn't even meet her face to face.

Of course, she was still shocked by what she saw when he approached her transmission. He was fairly old, old enough to have seen First Contact. He carried himself with confidence. Not overconfidence, but the calm, absolute certainty of knowing that he was two steps ahead. Someone like that would already make her uneasy. Then there were his eyes.

Her own implants had a hellish red glow, but it reminded Jane of glare from a chemical-basex photograph. The Illusive Man's blue eyes felt… demonic somehow. They gazed through her, into her soul. Maybe it was just the resemblance to Saren's eyes in that final battle. Or maybe Jane just recognized him for what he was. Certainly, she couldn't help the first words out of her mouth.

"جن (jinn)."

The Illusive Man quirked a brow and smirked. "I've been called many things. But a genie is a first."

At first Jane was a bit stunned. But she regained her composure, and fired back, "Jinns aren't exactly genies. At least not in the popular sense. Would you prefer Mephistopheles?"

He grinned at that. "Funny enough that is one I've been called before. But enough banter."

"I agree… So you're the Illusive Man. I thought we'd be meeting in person."

"A necessary precaution," he drawled out, flicking his cigarette before sipping his liquor, "For people who know what you and I know."

As if this will stop the Reapers from finding you. Playing games like this only makes it harder to cooperate.

"Tell me then; why did you do this? Why did you drag me back up? I assume it isn't for any usual Cerberus dirty work, not that I'd ever agree to that," she said, resisting the urge to step forward into his face.

His face quirked in a way that implied he found her exact words very interesting. Jane wondered if he would replay this conversation again and again to pull it apart. "You need to put aside personal feelings. Humanity is up against the greatest threat in our brief existence."

It was oddly refreshing to hear someone not on her crew recognize the gravity of what was coming. "The Reapers…"

"Good to see your memory is still intact." Had he really presumed she would end up that mentally damaged? "How are you feeling?"

It was an attempt to be friendly, to establish some kind of rapport that made them more than distanced associates. "I'm fine. Not as perfectly ready as Lawson dreamed, but two years of being dead takes more than ten minutes to shake off."

"Only 9 months dead, technically. At least that was when you were at a point of being considered legally living."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to offend the honor of your shadowy cabal of xenophobes."

The Illusive Man sighed. "Cerberus isn't as evil as you believe. We have the same goals, just different methods."

"And different morals and mentalities, but let's cut to the chase. What exactly are the Reapers doing that you decided to bring me back?"

As of taking his stage cue, Cerberus' leader stood dramatically. "We're at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack. While you've been 'sleeping', entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies."

Makes sense why they care. Still… they're willing to save everyone to save mankind. Not the most heroic goals, but I can work with this…

"We believe it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign. You've seen it yourself. You've bested all of them. That's just one of the reasons we chose you."

"War isn't Cerberus' methods. Why such a direct approach?" She knew why Cerberus was acting. Mankind was being targeted, though she'd need to investigate if other species were being hit too.

"We are dedicated to the advancement and preservation of humanity," he replied, as if he were reciting a sales pitch. "And this is a direct attack by an enemy we cannot fight from the shadows, that we cannot best with espionage and infiltration. At least not yet. We can't wait for politicians and the Alliance to act. By the time they do, there won't be any human colonies left, and I will not let that happen."

Not that part was genuine! But is it about the human lives? Or the hindrance to human expansion and power losing our colonies would cause?

"But Sovereign was trying to harvest all life in the galaxy. Why would the Reapers target a few human colonies?"

"Hundreds of thousands of colonists have vanished. I'd say that fits the definition of 'harvesting'. Nobody's paying attention because it's random, and the attacks occur in random locations. I don't know why they've suddenly targeted humanity. Maybe you got their attention when you killed one of them."

There was a hint of pride on his voice. As if it was an honor to be enemy number one of the Reapers. For a human to have earned their ire so much as to see them prioritize mankind's demise did have a sort of honor to it, in a medieval, warmonger fashion. It was also just conceited enough an idea that Jane didn't know if she could believe it. On the topic of ego, she crossed her arms and said, "You could have trained an entire army, or built warships, or funded deep space expeditions for what you spent to drag me back."

"You're unique. Not just in ability or what you've experienced, but in what you represent. You stood for humanity at a key moment. You're more than a soldier. You're a symbol. And I don't know if the Reapers understand fear. But you killed one of them. They have to respect that."

"Unless they don't understand respect. We shouldn't presume to be able to comprehend them, jinn. But ultimately we don't have to. You made your point. After Mindoir, my story was a symbol for batarian attacks on humanity's honor, and after Torfan I was the symbol of why humanity was to be feared, if not respected. And now I'm the human who killed a Reaper." A thought crossed her mind. "And on the eve of their invasion, when they're plans started back up after I delayed them, I rise from the dead to slay them and save our species. You're trying to apotheosize me." It wasn't accusation in her voice, but recognition of fact.

"Apotheosis is a bit far. But, legends, and symbols have power. The kind of power to mobilize a species, if not the galaxy, to withstand what's coming." As his piercing gaze bored into her own, they shared an understanding. If he believed her ability as a soldier was enough, he'd have clones an army of her. If he believed her experience was enough, he'd have made a command AI out of her brain. If he thought both would have been enough, then he'd have done so.

He probably didn't really want Shepard. But he needed Shepard. Not a piece, not a part, not a replacement.

"If what you say is true… If the Reapers are behind this. I will help you," she said firmly. "But I need proof."

"I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing for yourself. I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted."

"Convenient timing."

"Convenient would be being able to stop the abduction. But as soon as Miranda messaged that you were awake, I began organizing this expedition. Go to Freedom's Progress. Find any clues you can. Who's abducting the colonies? Do they have any connection to the Reapers? I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest."

Like a phantom, he vanished. For a moment, Jane was left wondering if he'd even been real, if she had just stared at a wall while her mind conjured the delusion of a devil with blue eyes.

She had returned from the 'meeting' room to find Jacob and Miranda already aware of their mission. Jane considered chatting them up; she always made time to get to know her team. Partly it was compassionate, as she genuinely hoped to foster camaraderie amongst her team, and partly it was cynical, as Jane knew full well that a person would always hold loyalty most the people who knew them best, to the one who knew their secrets and who had aided in their troubles.

But above all, it was tactical. Personality and personal history often factored more into battlefield situations than any soldier cared to admit. Tali, for instance, was a bit naive, and often overestimated how many enemies she could take on, standing out in the open when she needed to dive for cover, and yet as a quarian, she often had a hesitation to leave cover once she entered it. Ashley had been borderline suicidal in her assaults, but was also as obedient as a hound; it had been defiance of orders that had cost her family their honor after all.

Jane had a little portfolio in her head of each squadmate she'd ever served with. Even on Torfan. Everyone had flaws and strengths that arose from their emotions, and from their upbringing. Garrus was maybe the only one who broke the mold, but even he had become an open book to her. As a turian, he should have been obedient and calm in battle, with the only glaring flaw in the Hierarchy's training being that turians lacked adaptability. Garrus was certainly calm in battle, but he was almost too relaxed. Jane had come to know it was because he still clung to the idea that good always beat evil, and he believed himself to be the 'good guy,' even when the system was failing him. And Garrus was obedient, but there was always a microsecond of analysis. Not hesitation, but he preferred to think on the orders he'd been given, weigh if they were good. Over time, that had faded, as he came to trust her judgement and came to see her as different from the C-SEC brass he held in low regard. And what Garrus lacked wasn't adaptability, but confidence. When she gave him an objective, he could break from strict orders to complete it no problem, unlike most turians. But when he needed to act autonomously, he froze up.

For a long time, Jane hadn't known why. It was as she and Garrus spoke that she came to know about his father and about his strained relationship with him. It wasn't just a difference of opinion between them. Garrus had always been too individual for turian standard, while his father was one of the collective. With less harsh standards, Garrus might have developed into a compliant member of the Hierarchy on his own, albeit one with more ambition and drive. But under Castis' parenting, he instead railed against the unachievable goals put before him.

Her knowledge of Garrus was why Jane always trusted him at her side. She knew him inside and out, like any weapon in her arsenal, and so she always knew when and how to utilize him. Not to mention that while Tali's loyalty was to her Fleet, Ashley and Kaiden to the Alliance, Wrex to his credits, and Liara to her research, Garrus' only loyalty was to her. She knew him better than his family did, and in turn he idolized her, sought to emulate her. He was the kid brother, or even just the young protege she'd never had.

I wonder what he's up to. Probably kicking ass at the hip of an elder Spectre. Or maybe he's done with training.

Jane set aside a sudden rush of longing for a familiar face. There wasn't anything to be done about it yet. Ultimately she delayed speaking with Lawson and Taylor. Instead she hit the station's armory. Lazarus had kitted her in an attempted facsimile of N7 gear, but not only had it suffered damage, but the armor's quality left much to be desired. Clearly, Cerberus had been favoring form over function. Maybe to help her adjust during a proper wake up process, or just to keep her at ease, offering armor and a gun to demonstrate she wasn't a prisoner.

Whatever their reasoning, it wouldn't suffice for an encounter with an unknown enemy that kidnapped entire colonies. Miranda had stated that a number of armor sets were available, and tailored just for her.

Not creepy at all…

Jane chalked it up to the idea that the Illusive Man had several such sets made a while ago. Maybe this station was supposed to be a forward base, or maybe they had just been transferred from somewhere else once word came that Lazarus was compromised. She opted to keep the faux-N7 greaves, as they were both decently made and the most comfortable, but she grabbed the Kestrel chestplate and shoulder guards as soon as the readout said they specialized in shield regeneration.

Firefights were about putting rounds down sight, but good shielding could turn a horrific onslaught into a winnable war of attrition. But she still needed good armor on her hands and on her head, as those were the first targets to get picked at when shields failed. Hence why she took the gauntlets and helmet off the so-called "Cerberus Assault Armor." As much as she loathed taking on the gear of even Cerberus' most elite shock troops, it was of good make and sturdy, exactly what she needed. She did, however, snap on a Kuwashii visor into the helmet. Garrus sang praises of having a visor, and if the helmet had to be discarded, Jane would still have a HUD to coordinate with.

After selecting each piece from a database, she had to wait for a machine to fetch each armor piece from the storage. While the selection on hand was tolerable, Jane groaned once the armor was actually sitting before her. A custom paint job had been applied, and she'd been unable to alter it. The armor had been painted black, but the right arm had a stripe down the side like her N7 gear, and while bordered in white the familiar crimson was replaced by Cerberus' yellow-orange. Similarly, the same color was the strip on top of her helmet, and exactly where the N7 insignia had been on her old armor's chestplate, there was a small, white and gold Cerberus logo.

Clearly, the paint scheme had been pre-designed into the fabricator intentionally. No matter what she wished, no matter where she went, Jane would be in the colors of Cerberus, flying their flag in a pattern that was a mockery of her old gear.

He called me a symbol. And in black and red, I was a symbol of the Alliance. Now he's making me a symbol of Cerberus.

Jane couldn't be too angry. After Torfan, the Alliance had quite literally draped her in their flag for a few posters. It only made sense that the Illusive Man would capitalize on an opportunity to associate Cerberus and Jane Shepard together. She could, however, be a little angry, as she exited the armory. Her helmet was under her arm, and she idly began to calibrate her visor's outputs as she muttered to herself.

"That نصاب (nassaab) had better be right or I'm going to shove his cigarette up his ass. Fils de pute, making strut around like a pitre wearing this…" she muttered, weaving in and out of her three dialects in rapid succession as she rejoined her squadmates.

Handlers more like.

She shut her mouth at that thought. Lawson would probably go squealing to her boss if she overheard Jane's curses. Taking one last moment to sigh, she steeled herself for a first attempt at being friendly with the two people who would have to watch her back soon.

The massive figure stomped along the hallway that barely had enough space for his bulk. The small scientist in front of him typed away on her omni-tool. As they entered a new room, the ceiling went higher, and the figure rolled his shoulders, able to finally stand up straight.

"Don't relax too much, Ajax," the doctor called as she made her way to one of the computers in the large room. "We still have plenty of work to do."

Ajax just gave a slow nod. "Y-yesss, mah-ahm," he slurred, his own tongue ill fitting for his mouth.

"Why don't we start with your replacement?" she said, as clinical as could be. In response, Ajax lumbered over to one of the eight sealed chambers in the room. Each was a sort of rounded cube of orange tinted glass. As he approached the chamber in the center of the left wall, there was a hiss as the hermetic seal was broken. The top half of the cube rose up slowly, allowing Ajax to reach inside. He lifted out a small child, a toddler that was sound asleep. Despite his size, Ajax had a gentle hold on the child.

The toddler squirmed a bit, but its rest was not disturbed as Ajax carried it over to the doctor. The toddler's skin was a pinkish-orange, and the doctor began to carefully examine it. "Subject remains healthy. No sign of the degeneration suffered by the previous subject," she said calmly, her visor recording everything she saw. "Hands remain oligodactyl, as expected, though they are uneven. As reported at decanting, subject possesses three digits on the right hand, but four on the left. Musculature thus far indicates that this should not pose a major issue."

The doctor reached her pen forward then. "Browplates remain somewhat soft; hardening has been delayed compared to Ajax, but it is hardening at a faster rate now than his ever did. Fusion of the plates into a singular piece may occur far sooner than normal for krogan young. Perhaps affected by human fusion of cranium? Will require further study." As she spoke, her pen prodded the handful of roughly triangular plates that grow on the toddler's forehead.

"Alright. Put him away," she ordered, and Ajax complied. As he placed the child back into its chamber, the doctor used her omni-tool to open another of the chambers, this one in the far right corner of the room. "Come on out, Orion," she said firmly, "It's examination day."

From within the opened chamber, a reverberating voice trilled back, "That ain't my name."

The doctor sighed. "It would be 'isn't', Orion, that isn't my name. Not ain't. Ain't isn't a word."

"It is in Cipritian."

"Low Cipritian contains a contraction for the singular present of am and is with 'not' but said word isn't present in Middle, High, or Classical Cipritian. And really, you ought to be improving your English and Spanish before moving on to those languages."

The child in the chamber, obscured in shadow, frowned. "They don't sound right in my mouth."

The doctor shook her head. "I don't much care, Orion. Now enough stalling. Get over here."

"I said that isn't my name!" the child shouted back. The doctor scowled and turned to Ajax.

"Prod him. I don't have any more time for his insolence," she ordered. Ajax almost hesitated. Almost. Instead he reached to his belt and draw his baton, the end of which crackled with electricity. Moving quicker than his large body ought to, he approached the open cube rapidly.

"It's not my name! It's not my name! My name is O-"

The name died on the boy's lips, as Ajax's baton pressed onto his bare chest. He collapsed from the pain and energy. As he fell forward, Ajax caught him, and began to haul the boy from his chamber to be examined.

"Of course the fucking skullface is the one causing me Hell," the doctor griped. "At this rate I might as well have him expunged, and get a new batch ready." A scoff. "The things I do for this job…"

[A/N]: The first section was originally part of Chapter 4, but it felt like it would be better here, and Chapter 4 was already at a good length. I felt it was a good time to bring up the more... original aspects Im putting into this fic, returning to the facility briefly teased in the first chapter. Given how much repeat of canonical dialogue I have had, this felt like a good way to spice up the chapter. Don't worry, I'll be only doing these kinds of sections sparingly, as I want Shepard and Garrus to be the bigger focus.