A/N: Accepting OC submissions! be sure to include details on how they behave as well as how useful they will be in hunting Leviathan! can Review or PM me! if they are shipped with a cannon character be sure to let me know! (Garrus is the only one not available) if you want a ship with a character who died in the trilogy, like Legion or Thane I am willing to rewrite a few to have them have survived. This is a post Control Ending fic, Reaperfied races have sapience and free will, but are not universally accepted back into society at current.
—
Hackett's uniform was always incredibly crisp, and the human councillor, Councillor Shapiro, adjusted his collar with an irritated glance cast at the aged general from the confines of the sleek, railless elevator platform they stood upon together.
"Why are you here, again?" His voice was nasally and his brow strewn together sported thick eyebrows. Without missing a beat the seasoned war leader answered him clearly,
"Because she doesn't like you, Councillor."
"Well let's just say, hypothetically, that that were true, that a logical all-powerful AI utilised feeling driven favouritism of all things. I'm the Human Councillor, I represent humanity, if I was so quote, "unlikeable" how did that even happen?" His smugness did him no credit. But it took a lot more than that to ruffle Hackett's feathers, arms behind his back, posture tall, gaze ahead.
"I leave the bureaucracy to the petty politicians, Councillor. I'm not here to argue whether you belong in your position."
The Councillor cleared his throat, displeased with the answer, but he wasn't given time to start a debate as the elevator lifted them into the Catalyst, the homeplace of The Intelligence that the Reapers all networked to.
It was no longer an exposed, vulnerable heart, now it stood a decorated hall, with Keepers bustling about connecting to interfaces all throughout. Sorting through millions of years of data to extract the history of the universe that the Reapers were privvy to. To archive it, and extract useful knowledge from it.
Hackett's eyes watched a Keeper zapping away at a panel. Engineers have been frothing at the mouth to have even fractions of the tech and knowledge stored in these walls, so far any attempts of thievery have been anticlimactically unsuccessful.
Many are uneasy at this hub of power existing in the heart of the Citadel, but the space station was built by the Reapers. And them being here has, as much as many don't want to admit, optimised the space station's function beyond what it was before.
Nonetheless, the politics of the Reaper's presence still remain heatedly debated currently. So when Hackett was requested to be present to provide a familiar mediator, he knew it was too important to turn down.
The glowing energy pylons above them provided an aesthetic blue light over the glossy white surface of the floor that they walked across, shoes squeaking slightly. To the other end of the hall, where a generator awaited.
When they took their place before it. It lit with blue energy intertwining in curved movements to form the shape of a person. The familiar hero of the galaxy. And she was certainly pleased to see Hackett as she stepped into the light and saluted him as he did her.
"General." Her voice was as velvety as all the recordings and memories, with a synthetic twang on the end, a brief glance to the Councillor she greeted him with a nod, "Councillor." Her tone hardly as accommodating, but not impolite for now.
"Venari," Hackett greeted, with a touch of warmth due to his sentimental bond with the woman, the now larger than life presence that they didn't quite comprehend yet.
He wouldn't be able to certainly claim he trusted her enough to verbalise it, that it was really her. But thus far the Reapers have been nothing but peaceful on a larger scale according to his reports. Outside of small incidents with small groups, usually instigated by the non-Reapers of the party harassing reaperfied individuals trying to salvage a normal life being targeted for the dark recent past of the Reapers, and the fact that they still dominantly look like them, if not more refined and comfortable rather than in gruesome exposed bionic corpses.
"We've come to ask for your help." He plainly communicated, and the energy form, Mercy's attention was piqued.
"What's going on?"
"Allegedly—" Councillor Shapiro took it upon himself to interject. "The Alliance has found concerning increasing evidence of large masses of humans—"
"And other races." Hackett grunted to correct him.
The Councillor dismissed that tidbit, "— As I was saying, reports allege that there have been sightings of orbs turning up and strange activity before the disappearances occur."
Mercy's eyes narrowed, "orbs… That sounds like the Leviathans are taking thralls."
"If we're to look at previous patterns." Hackett explained, "this is a very bold move for them by sheer numbers alone. We worry they're getting too comfortable and we want to hopefully put a stop to their ensnaring of innocent people."
Mercy listened intently, and crossed one arm across her chest to lean the other on to touch her chin. "I agree. We need to recover those taken."
"The logical thing to do is to figure out how to engineer and reverse the effects of the orbs." The Councillor interjected. "And whatever other weapons these "Leviathans" have."
"Let me guess, for Humanity?" Mercy snidely remarked and Councillor Shapiro seemed displeased.
"It's my job to look out for the needs of Humanity and its position in Council Space, no matter what your feelings might say. That's why I'm here."
Hackett breathed a long sigh, "what he means is this mission to stop the Leviathans is something only you can do. And the Council is willing to officially sanction the mission by reinstating you as a Spectre."
Mercy's brow was cocking almost in amusement at the latter part of the sentence. Even now they still wanted to wrap two miles of red tape around everything.
"Well then. If you want me to do this I'll need my ship, and I'll need some help fitting her with a crew."
"Consider it done. And you contact any old friends who owe you favours, I'll pull some strings and get you some dossiers for people who might be suited for the mission."
"Then it's official," Councillor Shapiro announced, "on behalf of the Council, you'll be recognised in Council space as a Spectre— given you present as Commander Mercy Venari, that is."
"That… can be arranged." For formality's sake, the apparition of Commander Venari nodded, before she stepped back into the shadow of the generator and slowly dissipated.
While Hackett and Shapiro made their way back towards the platform, the elder soldier muttered, "told you she doesn't like you."
