Standing in front of him, Shepard examined his appearance up close. Each limb and appendage was wrapped in his dark combat suit so no exposed flesh could be glimpsed. While the overall design appeared simple, the individual compositions of the suit seemed curious to her, looking very much like a patchwork; some armour pieces were crisscrossed with damage showing signs of old age, while others appeared imperfection free as if they had just been fabricated that morning. His weapons included an unrecognizable heavy pistol on one hip and on his back, a sword - only it was unlike a sword she had ever seen. In addition to its large size, it looked alien: It was a single piece of dark, pitted metal, its blade asymmetrical and irregularly shaped with a large crescent cross guard and pommel. Tiny green capillaries glowed along grooves in its length. The blade curved gently upwards, and near the point, it thickened and jutted into a flat spike on the forward side. There were no sharp edges to it, which added to its odd nature. This was indeed the subject she was looking for.

"I hear you've been looking for me."

"I was looking for you," he replied, "then I heard you died."

She chuckled; it never got old. "Yeah, I did, but then I got better."

"So I can see." He turned his head slightly towards Miranda. "Started hearing reports of you sighted alive and well on some far human colonies, but flying under Cerberus rather than Alliance. I figured the Illusive Man had some hand in your reappearance, so I visited him."

"Good guess, he did. And now, here we are."

"Yes, here we are. Not only do the Reapers want you dead, but so does the Eclipse corporation for some reason. Do they normally shoot at you on sight?"

"No, not unless I start shooting first, but that's a secondary consideration at the moment. So, you recognize the threat of the Reapers, then?" Shepard asked him seriously. "The Illusive Man didn't give me many details about you, but we'd be grateful for any help or intel we can use against them. We need all the help we can get out there."

"More than recognize," he assured her. "I've fought them."

There was a pause from Shepard's party as they looked at each other simultaneously, wondering if the newcomer had misheard or perhaps misunderstood.

"And when was that?" Miranda asked him skeptically.

"This is a discussion best away from prying ears." he motioned, drawing their attention back to their open surroundings. "Somewhere away from additional trigger-happy interlopers."

"My ship, the Normandy, has a dead-zone briefing room that can serve our purposes," Shepard informed him. "We can talk there."

.

The Normandy was unlike most human frigates. A joint engineering project between the humans and turians, it looked far more interesting than what normally constituted a vessel within the Alliance or Hierarchy fleets. Shepard had heard it ridiculed and praised alike, but none could deny its effectiveness at its purpose. The most advanced military infiltration starship this cycle had yet seen was fast and silent bar none. To command it was an honour that she treated with utmost pride.

Though she could not see his face, she could see the newcomer trace the gaze of his helmet over the shape of the Normandy while it lay moored, then doubled back over the blackened scorch marks that had razed the hull.

"If you don't mind me asking, what caused this damage?" he openly asked them, pointing to the blackened trails. "It's not common to see damage from directed energy weapons of this calibre."

"You're sharp. It's from a Collector cruiser. The same one that took down our first ship, the Normandy SR-1. Thankfully we're reinforced with Silaris heavy ship armour. Saved our hides."

"Collectors… the same ones said to have been sighted on Omega?" he repeated.

"The same. Do you know about them too? Hmm. I wish we would have had you a few days ago when we assaulted their base."

Shepard saw his hand halfway raise to pose more questions to them but then stopped himself and shook his head. "I'm late." she heard him mutter to himself.

.

After boarding the Normandy and running the routine disinfection procedure, she led the group to the briefing room for discussion. The Normandy was empty, and the crew on shore leave during repairs.

"Garrus, Miranda. Go and enjoy your leave; I can take it from here."

"I know you can handle yourself, but are you sure that's a good idea to do alone?" Garrus questioned, looking concerned. "What he did back there was brutal... and I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested in finding out what's going on myself."

"I'm of the same opinion," Miranda added.

"Alright, suit yourselves."

She led the party to the briefing room, and the doors closed behind them. On one side facing them, their guest took a seat. On the opposing side, Garrus remained standing while Shepard and Miranda sat down in the available chairs. Miranda put on her usual ice queen mode and sat up ramrod straight, looking orderly and professional. "EDI, please display the Illusive Man's dossier research," she requested.

The hologram warmed, and the photos and notes from the dossier materialized in the air in front of them.

"To continue our earlier conversation, you mentioned that you've fought the Reapers before," she stated in crystal clear diction. "When was that?"

Their fully armoured guest reached up, took his helmet in his hands in a certain way and twisted it, unsealing it. An audible click was heard as the seal broke. He lifted the helmet up and over his head, then down to the table, and they then perceived what lay behind the helmet's opaque visage.

His hair was very dark, and his skin warm. He looked, by most accounts, like a human from some innominate heritage having just passed their prime. Yet like the design of his armour, there was a slight off-ness to his features that they couldn't quite put their finger on and, upon specific inspection, proved uncanny. The auricle pattern of the ears, the dimensions of the skull, and the shapes of the teeth. Out of all of them, one trait looked decidedly unfamiliar among humans: brilliant to the point of iridescent green eyes that shone like emeralds under light, full of vigour. The gaze was penetrating, but a perceptible weariness to them softened their edge.

His eyes darted to the floating notes and scanned them quickly, nodding. "I appreciate the incredulity of what I am about to tell you, but please, hear me out first without interruption. In the interest of time, let me start at the beginning with a very high-level interpretation of events. A long time ago," their guest began, "my species discovered the mass relay network, linking us for the first time to a wider galactic community we hadn't known existed. However, our awe was short-lived. Within a few years of finding out we were not alone in the galaxy, something I would later know as the Reapers appeared and razed all advanced civilizations to the ground. We fell quickly," he admitted, sweeping his hand over the surface of the table. "and I found myself stranded on an empty world as the galaxy burned. Years passed in seclusion until one day, a ship I didn't recognize being piloted by a race I hadn't seen before landed on its surface: Protheans seeking to expand their empire. I joined their fold."

He leaned back into his chair, narrowing his eyes slightly as he continued his recount.

"I wasn't sure the Reapers would return, or if they did, when that would be. Eventually, they did, and in full force. The Protheans were strong and numerous, and they fought hard. System after system, world after world, city after city…" he explained, shaking his head in frustration, "but it was always one of attrition, and against the Reapers…we found that there was no reasonable amount of ammo or bodies to sustain a front like that for long. The war turned to harvest… and it lasted centuries. Entire generations of Protheans were born, raised and died knowing only genocide."

His voice died as he intertwined the fingers of his hands in front of him, his lowered eyes unfocused as he gazed through the room into distant and terrible memory. The lightning and darkening of eyes was a common human metaphor, but Shepard would later swear that they had quite literally physically darkened, though none of the others would admit to noticing.

"Upon later reflection, I would conclude that although complete eradication took many years of slow defeat, we had actually lost the war immediately. I had not known how the Reapers arrived during my cycle, but I was aware when they arrived the second time," he explained, snapping the fingers on his right hand, "blinking into existence around the central hub of the Prothean Empire, the Citadel. They swiftly incapacitated their government and gained access to their census data and star charts, paving a neat way to an inevitable demise. I don't know what you did two years ago on the Citadel, Shepard, but you saved us then from instant annihilation. Perhaps that had been the first time in history when the Reaper invasion had been stopped before it began."

"I'm really sorry, but I will ask the obvious question before we continue. How are you still alive?"

"Understandable. In a short line, my people had… gifts of longevity. Several thousand-year lifespans were not unheard of. I will also not discount exceptional luck."

His answer told her next to nothing, but she decided she would follow up afterwards. His recount, Shepard thought, as unlikely as it all sounded to the layman, was laying out the same timeline that the VI on Ilos had once told her. That knowledge was not by any means common. She continued the timeline by filling in the gaps and linking their two chronicles. "Two years ago, we started chasing after a rogue Spectre named Saren Arterius," she explained, "who we later found had been indoctrinated by a Reaper named Sovereign. The chase led us to the planet Ilos, where we found a Prothean VI that was the caretaker of a Prothean research project there. The scientists had wiped all traces of themselves from the records so the Reapers couldn't find them, and they eventually went into cryogenic stasis so they could return when the Reapers had retreated back into dark space."

He wagged his finger through the air in recognition. "Ilos, I remember Ilos, the Protheans had built their cities thereupon the ruins of one of the foremost species during my cycle, the Inusannon," he explicated, nodding to himself, slowly at first then with more ardency. "I read that the relay leading to the Pangaea Expanse cluster had been disturbed thousands of years ago… I wasn't aware it had been located again..." he voiced, deep in thought. "You… found Protheans in stasis on Ilos? Had they survived?"

"No. But they did stop the Reapers from taking control of the Citadel in this cycle. They could alter the signal the keepers received from Sovereign that would open the Citadel relay into dark space. This time when Sovereign sent the signal, it was ignored."

"That's... incredible," he exclaimed, "but… how did they manage to get onto the Citadel to alter the signal? It fell to Reaper control at the beginning of the invasion and became impossible to travel to. It became a myth to many of the Protheans afterwards."

"The scientists there had managed to reverse engineer the relays and build a prototype of their own which they named the Conduit. They used the Conduit to travel to the Citadel, which prevented Sovereign from signalling the keepers. Garrus and I used it to hop directly to the Citadel to stop Saren from manually opening the station to the Reapers."

"Hop is a soft way of putting it," Garrus interjected. "We slingshotted the breadth of the galaxy while riding in the Mako; my stomach still does somersaults thinking about it."

There was a slightly delayed look on their guest's face of wonderment at their news, and his eyes darted to and fro as his thoughts tumbled in his head and out of his mouth. He rose from his chair and to his feet, mumbling to himself as he began pacing back and forth on his side of the table, hand on chin, head tilted downward in intense thought.

"Ilos Conduit… to the Citadel relay… yes. We had thought…" he began explaining to them, with an undercurrent of excitement, "that it would have given us an edge with relay technology unlocked. The Reapers themselves still rely on the network to travel and are thus still at the mercy of their support. If you control Reaper transportation, you can control the Reapers. Their only alternative is FTL flight, which slows their movement significantly from system to system... movement becomes a linear function of time rather than an instantaneous one. From what I remember, this was eleven times the speed of light…. which I think is roughly double what top Citadel starships can muster. This can be a game-changer... assuming we can replicate the Prothean work. The scientists on Ilos, they perished, then?"

"The Conduit only worked in one direction. The VI told us they likely became stranded on the Citadel after they made the modifications to the signal."

His face fell slightly. "Unfortunate. They might have been the last Protheans," he murmured. "I wonder if I could have…. No, it would have been impossible to know when, and by that point, I was already stranded."

"What happened to you after the Protheans fell?"

"Well, as it's probably well known by now, the Protheans were studying then-primitive races to first groom as subjects to their empire, then as the Reapers appeared, to carry on their legacy in their demise. Out of the lot, they had highest expectations toward asari, salarian and turians, and they were right; they've all done wonderfully," he instructed them, nodding to Garrus in particular. "But there were others too, and I made a bet of my own: humans. After all, I am not a native Prothean, and you and I are not so different. After placing data at the Prothean observation post on the red planet that would be later named Mars," he told them, casually dropping a bombshell, "I became stranded on Earth, and for the last fifty-thousand-od years, I waited for humans to develop space flight."

Miranda faltered. "You've lived on Earth for the last fifty thousand years? Even with a few thousand error margin of error, that's..."

"Your disbelief is understandable," he answered her.

"Hold on a moment," Shepard asked. "I'm grateful that you're here telling us this, but everything you've just told me, why not go through the proper channels? Bring this to the Council yourself. Why go through the trouble just to find and tell me?"

He returned to her a nod, understanding. "That's a good question. I was... well known during the Prothean cycle, as proved by some of these memorials you've found. I played a large role in leading the resistance against the Reapers when the harvest began. Although the Reapers won, they took many centuries to complete their harvest. The Reapers," he explained with slight chagrin, "eventually identified me as a direct threat to their agenda. They searched for me, and where I went, they followed. When I proved too slippery to catch, they grabbed the closest things to me and squeezed, turning all my allies against me either through fear of retribution, indoctrination or obliteration. I have no delusions about this war; they will eventually corner each of us. My hope is that we can prepare under cover of their usual expectations. Commander, you're already a public figure. Whether you like it or not, you're the face of resistance in this cycle against the Reaper threat and the perfect person to be so: you're experienced combatively, politically connected, publicly recognized, and hold significant sway in galactic policy. Practically speaking, I can't be that person again; I'm not a creature of this cycle and thus won't be trusted in any real capacity to lead this late in the game. The Reapers undoubtedly know you as a direct threat to their plans, and they will come for you. While they focus on trying to remove the largest target on their radar," he said, motioning to her, "I can reach far in the long shadows cast by your light."

Shepard crossed her arms for a moment while she thought, slowly nodding herself. "Assuming I agree with this," she asked, waving her hand, "while I have Reapers breathing down my neck, how can you help?"

"I'm something of an expert when it comes to logistics. I can directly support you and your crew, and in wider senses, the state of galactic readiness, better than anyone else can. At the small scale, I can operate directly as boots on the ground if you require with the same effectiveness as you've already observed," he began listing, "provide some engineering support in the form of new weapons and upgrades for your crew, and once I have enough backing, for the wider galactic fleets. I possess knowledge of tried Prothean tactics used against the Reapers during their cycle. I've worn many hats over the years; you'll have all my skills at your disposal."

Shepard leaned back, slightly addled, trying to digest what he offered her. "I'll be honest with you; that all sounds too good to be true."

"I don't expect you to trust me immediately," he told her, pulling up his omni-tool. "To prove my identity, I can provide you with the private key and decryption algorithm required to unlock an encrypted file that was found with the rest of the unencrypted Prothean data cache on Mars. To my knowledge, it has not been broken yet, and the data cache remains in the public domain for research purposes. Successful decryption will prove the file's contents: an image of Earth from space from about fifty-thousand years ago. I took it, I encrypted it, and I left the data there."

"EDI, grab the key, please, and verify."

"Of course, Commander. Private key uploaded," the AI chimed. "Retrieving a copy of data cache from the extranet. Attempting to decrypt locked file... decryption complete. Displaying contents."

The virtual interface blinked once, then displayed the file contents. True to his words, an image of a younger Earth in all her glory appeared, suspended in the blackness of space… only Shepard almost didn't recognize it; The lands were entirely covered in green and white. Fifty thousand years ago, Earth was still in the grips of an ice age, and the rest of the surface had not yet been seriously settled by mankind - vegetation covered the remaining landmasses in a sea so green it seemed surreal.

"I would ask that this not be released publicly, at least not yet. It's one of the few proofs I possess," he requested of them, aware of the mild awe that the rest of the room was in the grips of. If the image only had enough resolution, they thought, they could have zoomed in far enough to see stone age humans diligently working on the latest advancements of flint tools.

"Welcome to the team," Shepard offered, rising from her seat and extending an outstretched hand.

He rose as well and shook it with a warm smile. "I look forward to working together."

"What do we call you?" Miranda asked him. "'Wanderer' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

"That moniker, 'Wanderer' was given to me by the Protheans early on. You can call me…" he replied, in thought for a moment, "...Arius. Haven't used that one in a while. It'll do."