So, this one came about after watching a few old trailers. If there's anything that I have to say about Star Wars: The Force Unleashed 1 and 2, it's that they're stupid, fun games with an extremely overpowered character so that you can have loads of fun doing stuff with the Force. I was watching the reveal trailer for TFU2 with the arena and that long tunnel. It was then I had an idea: why not place Galen Marek post-TFU in the Mass Effect universe during the events of Mass Effect 2?

And that was the idea that spawned this idea. Essentially, default John Sheppard receives word from the Illusive Man that a very powerful man in a cloak is on a world known for its pit fighting who would be a great asset towards the Collector mission and is sent to attempt to recruit this man. Meanwhile, at the same time, Galen is suffering through amnesia and only knows his name and has strange skills that he can call upon whenever he desires; that, and he's haunted in his dreams by people he doesn't know. Or, something like that. It's malleable since this is but just a pilot.

Essentially, what I want to do is our classic Mass Effect style of storytelling and conflicts through the eyes of a man with an insane level of power. That's what I want to explore. For the record, I will be using the default male Sheppard as since his face is on the box it's easier to visualize.

Summary: Sheppard gets a dossier on another candidate for his suicide mission to defeat the Collectors and the Illusive Man's agents have come across word of an extremely powerful man with unnatural abilities not seen in the galaxy.

Rating: T+ - M, no idea at this point what it'll be.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my copy of MS Word and my desktop. Star Wars belongs to Disney and Mass Effect belongs to Bioware/EA. I only own this idea. See the foreword for the full disclaimer.

XxXxXxX

"Talking."

Flashback text

"Talking over intercom/boosted voices."

"Echoes in the mind (the Force)."

XxXxXxX

The cheers in the arena were intoxicating. They cheered for the arena's champion with gusto as he was an extension of their will to defeat whatever was thrown at him. Slaves, soldiers, mechs, monsters? They all fell before the part futuristic, part ancient weapons he used and the mysterious powers he used. There were some among the commoners in the city that claimed he had the power to snuff out stars, and so this champion was dubbed 'The Starkiller'.

However, in the audience, there was someone that represented a group of humans who weren't too keen on xenos. This person kept careful tabs on this 'Starkiller's' abilities and skills as well as their choice of weapons. He observed the absolute ruthlessness that he employed in killing each and every enemy that was thrown his way and noted it down in their report. Asphyxiation. Blunt force trauma. Being thrown off of a ledge. Amputation and decapitation. Electrocution. Disintegration. All of this accomplished using some kind of plasma-based melee weapon along with what had been dubbed 'silent biotics' as whenever he used them, there wasn't the telltale blue hue that hung around his person when he used them. When this silent observer was done, they packed it all up and titled the file package 'Dossier: The Gladiator' and sent it on its way.

XxXxXxX

Aboard the Normandy SR-2, Commander John Sheppard, previously dead commander of the Systems Alliance, sat in his quarters mulling over mission reports. It was just like when he was with the Alliance and when working as a Council Spectre, but his employer was the head of the largest human terror organization whose roots came from an old spec ops group. Currently, he had to deal with the recent aftermath of the fight caused by Miranda and Jack. He did mediate between them and managed to get Jack what she wanted in the sense of information on Cerberus installations and Miranda would have to allow her access to it. He could tell that Miranda was moody about it and he had confronted her about it. Of course, being her 'professional' self, she said that this didn't affect her combat effectiveness. He knew that the tension would continue to rise between the two of them until whatever Jack was looking for was found.

On his desktop, the pawn-shaped avatar of EDI appeared. "Commander, the Illusive Man is requesting your presence in the conference room," she said with her synthetic toned voice which never became any less disturbing the more he heard it.

"Did he say what it was about?" John asked as he finished up his current read.

"He has a lead on another recruit for our mission."

He stood up and started to walk towards the lift. "Better not keep him waiting," he mumbled. It was no secret that Sheppard had no love for the head of Cerberus. After all, during his time as a Spectre, all six months of it, Cerberus was a thorn in his side with their secret experimentation and general disregard to life that wasn't human. Even then that wasn't a platform either as Admiral Kohoku has discovered when he was abducted, tortured, experimented on, and eventually murdered at their hands. Therefore, it was no surprise that he called The Illusive Man TIM or 'Timmy' behind his back.

He waited in the lift for an exorbitant amount of time. If there was one thing that somehow technologically regressed, it was elevator tech. Minutes to progress between levels? It would be understandable if it were heavy machinery or a tank being moved, but not a person. Not even a Krogran would warrant this amount of time with their larger stature. Eventually, though, he did make it down to the CIC level and greeted several of his crew as they acknowledged their commanding officer's presence. There were few people that were part of this crew that he genuinely liked. There was, of course, Joker and Dr. Chakwas as they were members of his old crew and knew their hearts were in the right place. There were a few others like Jacob, Traynor, Gardner, Gabby, and Ken who were in this because they felt like Cerberus was the only choice in keeping the galaxy safe, human supremacy group or not. Before this was over, he would need to use some of his connections to get these fine people off the hook with the Alliance as he had a feeling that they all were going to feel the long hard phallus of the law after this was done. Miranda though, he was still on the fence about her.

As he walked into the conference room, the table that was usually there had lowered into the deck and the QEC platform visible. Sheppard had half a mind to suspect that EDI intentionally slowed down the lift so that it would be timed perfectly with his arrival in the conference room. He dismissed that current thought and entered the QEC's transmission ring. A haze filled his field of view until he saw a slightly pixelated view of the Illusive Man's office that was orbiting a star. One day he would find this station and destroy it.

"Illusive Man," Sheppard greeted neutrally.

"Sheppard, thank you for coming," TIM greeted in turn.

'Like I had a choice,' Sheppard thought. "What did you need?"

"My people have discovered a new recruit for your mission, he has a very interesting skill set," TIM said while bringing up a holographic image of the newest recruit for his mission. The man in the image didn't look all that impressive, then again Sheppard wasn't that assuming either in appearance alone. Shaved head, cloaked body, no armor or weapons to be seen. The only thing that Sheppard found interesting and out of place was the silver tube hanging from his belt. The hologram then started to move showing precise movements with an ignited weapon Sheppard noted was the silver tube, "This person is a close combat specialist."

"Not to outright dismiss help, but what would a close combat specialist be able to bring to the table that the other members of my team have already?" Sheppard pointed out. There was something that Timmy wasn't revealing.

Several screens appeared showing the single combatant taking down several monstrous genetic flukes. "He has unique abilities that would be considered assets for your mission. Does the assassin have the same abilities?" he asked. Sheppard didn't respond as it was rhetorical. Of course, Thane didn't have these abilities. The ability to throw lightning? Able to use some form of telekinesis? No one that he knew of knew how to do that. "The dossier has been sent to your omnitool." Sheppard looked down at his omnitool to see that it had been indeed been sent as soon as he said it. "Best of luck, Sheppard."

Without any more words said, TIM stopped the transmission and the QEC display lowered back into the deck. As he left the conference room the center table rose back up. Sheppard made his way into the elevator to take him into his quarters. He sat down at his desk after the excessively long elevator ride. Somehow in the future, while computing speeds got faster, elevators somehow got slower. It seemed to be a long-standing mystery and conspiracy on the extranet. Once he did get to his desk, he started to look through the dossier that TIM had provided him.

The planet that the file's namesake, Starkiller, resided currently on was Loreky. It was a Batarian held world with a colony. It had been annexed by the Batarian Hegemony in Earth year 1913 according to a footnote in the dossier. It was a world of light metal mining as well as an oddly open-to-visitors, even humans. This struck him as odd. Location-wise, it was in the Terminus Systems region, Omega Nebula, a planet of the Fathar System. There was nothing really of note of this system other than its loose government connectivity with the Hegemony and the Terminus Systems.

He then looked through the personnel aspect of the dossier. Starkiller was a skilled combatant, that much Sheppard could and would praise him on. But the abilities that he had were a different beast. Telekinesis, lighting projection, enhanced senses, some kind of limited telepathy to judge and guess opponents' movements and attacks. What made him an interesting opponent and potential ally, was that he didn't use any ranged weapons, only a sword of magnetically contained plasma, something some of the spectators of the arena had dubbed a 'laser sword'. He would rip weapons away from those facing him forcing them to face him on his terms in a fight that was fair for him and no one else. Sheppard did notice that he did seem to struggle against Biotic opponents. That could go both ways in from terms of a tactical perspective as Biotics were common throughout the galaxy. With this information in mind and his mind made up, he called a meeting in the conference room.

He arrived in the conference room to see his currently recruited allies of Jack, Jacob, Miranda, Garrus, Zaeed, and Mordin. "Alright, so what do we know?" Sheppard asked.

"Starkiller, no other known alias or name," Miranda started. "Close combat specialist, has abilities not seen by any other Biotic in the galaxy."

"What kind of name is 'Starkiller'?" Jack asked.

"No idea, that is the arena name he goes by. What do we know about the arena and the planet it's on?" Sheppard steered the conversation away from one of Jack's tirades.

"It's classified as the only in-road to the Batarian Hegemony to the larger galaxy," Garrus replied. "One of the largest ports that the Batarians have that has in and out roads. Lots of product passes through it."

"Not only that," Zaeed added, "but it's the only planet in the Hegemony that doesn't advocate for nor against slavery, a trade that we all know they practice in their owned space." He leaned in. "But here's the kicker, it's still practiced on the planet through the arenas they have set up. I guess you could say that they liked the visages of Rome's 'bread and circuses.'" That got a few looks from those around the table. "What? I know my history. Is it that much of a shock?"

"Kind of," Garrus spoke for the group.

"Just because I'm a mercenary doesn't mean that I'm uneducated," he grumbled.

"Tell me more about these arenas," Sheppard asked.

"Glorified fighting pits, if you ask me," Zaeed continued. "In them, anything goes. One v. one duels, one v. group fights, one v. dangerous fauna that would rip a man to shreds; you name it, they've probably done it. Slave fights against a skilled combatant are quite common."

"I thought you said that slavery wasn't advocated on Loreky?" Jacob commented, pointing out the seemingly contradictory information.

"I said advocated, not practiced. No slaves are to be taken on Loreky, but outside is different."

"What makes it different?" Sheppard asked?

"A lot of high rollers come from all over the galaxy to place bets on these arenas. They don't want potential clients to be taken where they're more valuable as customers in the long haul. Had to escort this uppity bitch of a CEO once, spent nearly a million credits in bets on the first fight alone."

"What else do we know about it?"

Miranda spoke up, "It's a planet that the Alliance has an embargo on as well as a travel advisory that boils down to 'don't go' or 'go at your own risk'. In other words, hiring private security."

"And Starkiller?"

"He's being hosted in one of the larger arenas on the planet on the capital city."

"Any other comments or intel?" Sheppard asked. No one said anything as they had nothing else to add. "EDI?"

"Yes, commander?" her voice came over the conference hall's intercom.

"Chart a course for Loreky."

"Aye, Commander."

XxXxXxX

Several days later, Galen was where he usually was: inside the fighting arena's ready room meditating before his next fight. As he did, he had a memory flash from when he last remembered his former Master and their final confrontation.

Galen had fought with his former master, Darth Vader, and had successfully pushed him back to what was an elaborate throne room meant for the Emperor. He had a choice in front of him and he made it quickly, that being of either destroying his former master once and for all or facing the Emperor and saving his friends and allies. He chose the latter. The battle between Galen and the Emperor was severely one-sided as no matter what Galen did the Emperor was able to counter him. He could tell that the Emperor was playing with him as if almost testing him to see his worth or something.

Finally, Galen had an opening. Galen charged at the Emperor, his blade in his preferred reverse grip. The Emperor sent torrents of Force Lightning at him, to which he air-rolled aside to dodge the lethal attack. He jumped on top of a console and leaped up before sending a powerful Force Push towards the Emperor, which impacted the seemingly frail old Sith which staggered him for but a moment before he sent torrents of Lightning once more at Galen, to which Galen absorbed with his lightsaber. He closed the distance to the Emperor, his blade cackling with Force Lightning along the blade and Pushed the Emperor once more, staggering him. He then Pushed into the ground, forcing the Emperor up in the air before Gripping him and slamming him into the ground.

The Emperor laid face down on the ground, smoke from varied explosions swirling around both him and Galen. He looked at Galen sharply and said, "You were destined to destroy me." Galen could feel the anger rise inside of him, it wanted him to kill the Emperor and end him and his Empire. "Do it," Palpatine spat, "give in to your hatred."

Galen ignited his blue blade and contemplated killing him, after all with the Emperor out of the way the galaxy would be free once more. He then felt a hand on his shoulder. "He is beaten," Kota said from behind, "let it go."

Galen grunted in both frustration and anger, "It's a trick, he's stronger than you know and he deserves to die for what he's done to me."

"Maybe so, but if you strike him down now in anger you'll right back where you began," Kota pleaded.

Galen took a moment to catch his breath, to calm himself down. "Get Bail and the others out of here." Galen then extinguished his lightsaber, "I'll be right behind you." Galen could already sense the Rogue Shadow landing near the Emperor's domed throne room. Then Galen felt a twinge of warning in the Force just microseconds before the Emperor shot up and shot a continuous torrent of Lightning at Kota, causing him to fly back and land with arcs of lighting coursing around him. Galen didn't think twice before jumping in front of the Emperor's Lighting onslaught, absorbing and deflecting as much as he could to allow his friends to escape. Galen looked to his left, seeing Stormtroopers closing in with Vader close behind. He looked to his right yelling at his allies with a pained yelp, "Go! Hurry!" Kota finally got up and shot Galen one last glance. "Protect the senators!"

Kota merely nodded in understanding and ran away as Galen continued holding his ground as Stormtroopers fired upon his friends, missing as Kota used a Force ability to mess with their helmets to aid in their escape. Galen stepped closer and closer to the Emperor, ignoring the pain that he experienced from the Emperor's attack. Galen could feel that his friends were far enough away and stepped close enough to hold hands with the Emperor before unleashing whatever Force power he had, yelling out before exploding in a blaze of glory, falling into the sweet blackness of becoming one with the Force.

His eyes snapped back open as the memory passed once again. It wasn't a pleasant one. In fact, many of his memories were unpleasant, but they ended up usually that way thanks to Vader and his training. He collected his attire, for the lack of a better word as all it was were the improvised Jedi robes that he had worn during his fight with Vader and the Emperor with a cloak on top of it. Not much in the way of armor, but the Force was his ally; or, however Kota said it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to see the final fight that the Starkiller will have in this arena," a voice came over the massive speakers in the arena that preached to the crowd. They were loud enough for them to be heard in the 'ready room' he was currently in. There was a loud chorus of 'boo'. "I know, I know, you all love the Starkiller, but someone else has purchased his contract. But we've been assured that his final rumble will be spectacular!" There were loud cheers at that. Galen stood up at that point, he knew that this would be his final bout in the arena one way or the other. He, before the talk of a contract transference, was nothing more than a glorified slave who was treated well because he was a prizefighter. But it was a gilded cage, all pomp and circumstance. "You know how we welcome our ongoing champion. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the Starkiller!"

The crowd started stomping their feet chanting 'Starkiller' repeatedly. He knew that this was his cue to start walking down the long corridor that many before him had walked down never to return either because of him or whatever monstrosities that were brought forth onto them. As he walked, he started to hear phantoms speaking to him, each on one shoulder. He had heard one human combatant speak of them as the 'angel and devil on your shoulder', a moral manifestation of your psyche. Whether it was invisible or visible was completely up to debate.

"Death is a natural part of life," the first voice said calmly.

He then heard heavy breathing, one that he knew all too well. "Foolishly you hold to the hope that you once had," his former master said. As he continued to walk, he was well aware that the metal pipes and cables were shaking in the subconscious anger he had towards his former master.

"Let go of everything that you fear to lose, you must."

"You think you have a purpose, a destiny." The destruction continued behind him as more objects started to float in his telekinesis.

"Uncertain and fearful, you are."

"You are a shadow of your former self," he taunted. It only got worse as the two spoke as metal warped and other mechanical and electrical mechanisms joined the swarm of parts behind him.

"Confused, you have become."

"You are weak and misguided," the taunting continued.

"Hide not from yourself," the first voice encouraged.

"Accept the certainty-."

"Confront your fear," the first interrupted. The Force storm got worse behind him as the very hallway buckled at the sheer unrelenting anger he radiated through the Force.

"-that all is lost," his former master concluded.

The two voices were overshadowed by a single female's voice, "Will I ever see you again?" He recognized this voice. Juno. All the objects froze in place as he realized that anger towards his former master as well as the unknown voice wasn't going to get him anywhere. The assorted items fell to the metal deck with a warped crash.

The metal doors opened in front of him and he lowered his hood and left the destroyed corridor behind to enter the arena to the resounding cheers of the fans that he had gained over his tenure as a 'main attraction' of the arena. The arena was a mixture of stone and metal architecture. It was laid out to be the lower castes were in the uppermost sections, those that had more capital to spend would be in the front row, and those that had the highest prestige were somewhere in the middle of the deck layers having the best seat in the house to catch all of the action. He stood in the center of the arena waiting for whatever 'final show' he was supposed to put on.

Meanwhile with Sheppard. He and his team had landed at the capital of Lorezy to little fanfare with the Normandy SR-2 able to make berth similarly to when they had first arrived on Illum to meet with Liara on the side of a reinforced skyscraper. From their dock, they could see the Grand Arena and had chartered a skycar to bring them there. The situation had been that the gamemaster had sent one of his lackeys to inform them that the could have the Starkiller once his final performance had been completed. Sheppard did not like the sound of that. He knew that the hierarchy on this world was ruled by the Batarians, and even though these ones loved money more than they liked slavery at first glance; he had a feeling that they hated humans more than they loved money and would kill the Starkiller just to spite them, and would probably try to kill them just because they had paid with funds that were linked back to Cerberus. To combat this possibility, he came prepared and had brought Zaeed and Jack.

Zaeed made sense since he had been to the world once before and would be able to take them through areas in which ambushes by possible slave capture parties would be minimal to none, and Jack because of her biotic powerhouse status. He himself had come loaded for bear as well in the off chance they were to be betrayed similarly with how Jack's release had been. Sheppard was a trusting man in his personal relationships, but business was another thing entirely. Joker had also been informed to keep the Normandy running hot just in case they had to book it out of there fast. They had been given the best seats in the house, or at least on the same level as Sheppard had a feeling that this 'final performance' was also a demonstration of what TIM and Cerberus were paying for. He did find it sort of odd that the arena looked in design like many colosseums and stadiums on Earth and human colonies that were large enough to sustain large cities.

The trio had heard the announcer and how the crowd livened up at the first mention of their arena fan favorite, their disappointment that he was leaving, and then their perking up at the promise that it would be his best performance. They all heard how much he was loved, or at least how much they loved his specific brand of brutality when he came out. The cheers were almost deafening. This went on for several minutes and the crowd was suddenly quiet as heavy doors opposite of them opened. Some kind of beast flew out, but not flying as if it had wings, but as if it was thrown by something. It was a massive creature that would have easily stood taller than any Atlas series mech suit. It landed next to the Starkiller and breathed its last. The crowd cheered once more in pure excitement and cheered even louder as a monstrosity that was reminiscent of a giant ape crossed with an elephant came out of the darkness from which the beast came flying.

It locked onto Starkiller as the only live thing in the arena and roared. Even in the sealed booths that the VIP suites were located inside of, they could smell the rotten meat that the beast must've eaten days ago. Starkiller wasted no time as he shucked aside his cloak revealing the attire beneath. Starkiller wasted no time going on the offensive. He cloaked himself in lightning and started to cast it with increased intensity towards the beast. The beast recoiled as the lightning impacted its face and roared in agony and anger at this preemptive strike. Sheppard was impressed that the lightning just didn't seem to stop. Most Overload attacks never lasted more than a second or two. There was definitely something else at play going on with that lightning. And it didn't have the pure blue-white coloration, it seemed to be purplish.

Seeing that this was only paining the beast, Starkiller changed his tactics. He pulled a silver tube off of his belt and a snap-hiss, only barely heard over the cheering crowd, revealed a blue blade of what seemed like pure plasma. Not wasting time, Starkiller ran at the beast with higher than normal speeds and leaped towards it, blade ready to stab into the beast.

The best tried to swat the human which was a hundredth of its size away, but Starkiller was too nimble. He stabbed it right into the beast's head and carved a long, cauterized path down its skull. Based on the length of the blade, a meter deep as well. It cried out in agony again as it tried to swat at the man again, but he was too quick to catch. Starkiller kept making impossible jumps and attacks that would have been impossible for even the most powerful biotic out there. With every attack made, the crowd just cheered louder in encouragement.

The beast kept crying out in agony, but one of the hands finally caught him, his blade falling to the ground below. The crowd went silent anticipating how their hero would get out of this. Sheppard turned on his omnitool ready to call in the Normandy to fire her guns upon the beast as the helpless man was dropped into the beast's mouth, but the unexpected happened.

As he fell, he curled into a ball and air seemed to warp around him as he fell. Once he disappeared into the beast's mouth and it closed trapping him inside, the beast's eyes widened in shock just long enough before its head exploded in an impressive display of blood and viscera. The body of the beast fell to the ground in a large collapsing crash. The crowd was still silent waiting to see if the Starkiller was dead and went out in some sort of suicidal run at the end. He walked out of the beast's lower jaw looking no worse for wear; there wasn't even any blood on him. As soon as he was seen, the crowd erupted in cheers once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Starkiller!" the gamemaster announced once more and the crowd answered with another shout of cheers. Starkiller didn't wait for any praise or laurels as he left the arena without even addressing the crowd. His weapon flying into his hand as he left.

Behind them, the gamemaster's lackey came again to them. "You can now speak to the Starkiller now," he said in a tone to what was borderline reminiscent of Igor from the old Dracula films.

They were led to an elevator which took them down into the depths of the arena. Sheppard did note that the lackey had to use an ID scanner on his omnitool to allow them onto that level. He filed that away for later if needed. The elevator opened and the innards of the arena were laid before them. There wasn't anything really all that special about it. There were corridors upon corridors for those that worked behind the scenes to do their work to make the arena's events run as smoothly as they would. They finally reached what looked like a locker room. Inside, the Starkiller was sitting on a bench.

"The gamemaster will be down shortly to complete the transaction," 'Igor' said before leaving.

Sheppard approached the young man. He looked no older than twenty. "Are you the one they call 'Starkiller'?" he asked.

"There are many who call me that," he replied with an accent that definitely implied a different native language. But Sheppard couldn't identify the accent itself, it was alien. Pun intended. He looked Sheppard in the eye for an uncomfortable moment. "You carry an immense burden."

"Human colonies are disappearing; I've been tasked with stopping it."

"I sensed a great disturbance in the Force. They cry out in agony and are silenced."

"Will you join us?"

To be continued…?

XxXxXxX

I know I sort of cut that off kind of weirdly at the end there. The main reason was that this was originally started almost a year ago that sat on ice. And if you guys know me when it concerns pilots, I have a bit of a problem closing them out, mainly because my mind likes to wander and wonder about what could be done with an idea. Not only that but the time at which I'm finishing this up at is well after midnight, the caffeine has worn off, and the liquor has kicked in. The fact that I'm still making coherent sentences should be marked as some kind of miracle.

But what would I want to accomplish if this is turned into something more? Well, I would want to explore a Galen Marek in the Mass Effect universe story, however, there a quite a few obstacles. The first is that there are quite a few SW stories that involve massively OP characters that seem to be borderline impossible to kill or to put in some kind of danger. This is something that I think will be a primary obstacle in keeping an audience interested. This was the main reason why I implied that "difficulty with biotics" was to start on some kind of weakness that a clever opponent, like the Collectors, could exploit.

But what did you guys think? Think this could be something more? Let me know in all the usual places. See you in the next thing.