Author's Note: So this here isn't a full chapter and is technically an add-on to the first one (hence why it is called Chapter 1.1). However, this is very much an essential read as it gives the tone of the full story to come. It shows the beginning of what kind of emotional and psychological hardships our main character is going to have to deal with, as well as gets more in depth with his personality and what drives him as a person. So since that's now out of the way, I hope you like this little update, regardless of how short it may be, and you continue to read and enjoy this story!

Chapter 1.1

The First Night

I crashed on the North American-style futon with an entire day's worth of exhaustion. The old piece of furniture's mattress smelled as if it had not been washed in ages and the spring board beneath felt like it had been long broken, but in that moment it was by far the most comfortable thing I had ever laid down on. My body blatantly refused to move after touching down, not even allowing myself to crawl under the covers. After having just finished dealing with the most bizarre twenty-four hours ‒ at least ‒ of my life without getting a single ounce of sleep, I doubted I was going to move an inch until waking up at least half of a day later. My eyes, however, were free to scan over my surroundings within the field of view my unmoving head permitted. The small holographic TV in the dark corner of the room. The hung-up bedsheet that was being used to separate my half from the one with the only real bed.

I didn't know what I was expecting really, but it was hard to believe a person's home on the Citadel could be so small and cramped. The possibility of the large space station having studio apartments was something I just could not wrap my head around before today. I mean c'mon, wasn't this supposed the be the center of nearly all galactic civilization? Someone normal, like myself, would have thought such a place of power and wealth would not have stooped so low in residential housing and design. Alas, how wrong I was to think so ignorantly. It should have been obvious there would be areas 'worse for wear' on the lesser known parts of the Citadel; every major metropolis in history had been cursed with such a hindrance. New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, and even Washington D.C., at least in my time, had poorer districts where the lower class thrived. I think the real thing that surprised me, however, was how empty the place was. Who would have thought a pawn shop owner on the largest and richest space station in the galaxy would be so... conservative? And talking about the old man...

His name was none other than Greg. Yeah, kind of oddly normal or... bland... if someone had asked me. But hey, I wasn't going to say anything after the guy took me in for the night. Of course, I was giving him fifty credits for the arrangement, but that was besides the point... After having gone to see those antique collectors he had told me about earlier in the day, I was about fifty thousand credits richer. Spending the tiniest fraction of that for a night's sleep on an actual mattress was a greatly better alternative to sleeping on the streets due to the lack of ID needed to rent out something like a hotel room. Furthermore, just because I was willing to pay him for a warm bed did not mean he needed to accept me into his home. To him, I was literally a complete stranger he had only just met several hours beforehand. He could have simply said "fuck off" and not given a care in the world about what happened to me after I finished my business with him. But he didn't. So having given him credits or not, I officially owed the man a huge personal debt. Even if he did not think I did.

Now, as much as I was practically a burnt out wreck after the day's events, my mind was not allowing me to pass out and succumb to fatigue. It was instead keeping me awake and, in turn, causing me to begin thinking over the current situation I was finding myself in. The day so far had been driven by my instincts for survival, which were the result of a combination of my natural personality and my military-family upbringing. Not once over the course of the entire misadventure had I truly stopped for a good amount of time and contemplated my position. The need to adapt as fast as possible and stay alive just stopped that from happening. But now... now the weight of all that had occurred was falling on my shoulders like a sledgehammer.

Here I was, having mysteriously been transported to the Mass Effect universe like the main character of a cheesy sci-fi flick. And to make things even more interesting, the date was May 2nd, 2182. A full year before the events of the first game. Or at least it could have been, since Bioware never really mentioned which month of 2183 it all took place in. No matter the case, I was stuck here for quite some time before anything even remotely important would happen. No friends to help me out. No family to support me. Just a pawn shop owner who happened to be a good Samaritan, the credit chits in the pockets of my new clothes, and the Colt .45 now hidden below my pillow. As I thought more and more about the circumstances, the creeping pain in my chest was getting harder to ignore. The reality that I might never see my loved ones again was just becoming too much for me to handle and, eventually, there was no willpower left to hold back the tears from welling up in my eyes. I never asked to be in a video game, dammit, so who the hell said I should have been at all excited about it? No, I was all alone in a world I, frankly, knew little about. The life I had before today no longer existed for I all knew. All of the people I cared for in my life, if they were even alive in this universe's past, were all dead.

Only now, after the sheets beneath me began to wet, did my body at last decide to obey my commands and assume a fetal position. As I went on to silently sob myself to sleep, a single question bounced around my head. It was one that would continue to be the cause of both my depression and nightmares for the future to come. What do I have to live for?