A beautiful, bright, brand new day. Millions across the Citadel were beginning their mornings, saying goodbye to their families, heading out their apartment doors, and getting into their skycars to fly off to work. For those walking the streets below, strong scents of smoked meat and exotic cuisines from street vendors everywhere wafted through the air, the light-hearted laughter of children skipping school could be heard throughout the thoroughfare, and C-Sec officers clad in black and blue stood in plain sight, maintaining a watchful eye over it all.
Blast them all I thought as I couldn't stand any of it, deciding to instead spend the last four hours of my day inside a sleazy dive bar. It wasn't as bad as the Mos Eisley cantina or anything, but it definitely fell short of the pristine club ran by Doran, the one that I think was called Flux. Though the bar was small, dark, dank, and dirty, the one upside to it was that the bartender didn't seem to mind that I had been nursing the current drink in front of me for the last hour and a half. Though honestly, she probably just appreciated that there was anyone here at all. Despite it probably only being noon, the bar probably didn't get that many visitors, regardless of time, probably because of how shoddy and rundown it looked. Probably.
Tequila se'lai. With a final swig, I finished the bitter beer in front of me and sat the bottle back down on the counter. If there was one thing in the future that I was glad never changed...it was alcohol. The female Turian gave me what I believed to be a smile as she took it from me. "Anything else?"
In return, I looked up sluggardly and asked for a, "...tasty tankard?" The beers I had already had were some cheap imitation ethanol brewed by Batarians, and quite honestly, tasted like a Pabst filtered with piss then left in the sun to skunk before being spit in. And they left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth. Though they were cheap...I could no longer take it and now decided I was in the mood for something a little more...palatable.
Regardless of reason, she looked at me bemused, and after giving a slight nod, got to work. I put my head back down on the counter as she did. I don't know how many drinks I had already had...but the answer was probably too many. I honestly didn't even know if I could pay for this next drink. I didn't have more than a couple hundred credits on my tool, and my tab was definitely getting a little out of hand. I placed my arm down in front of me, and then buried my head into the crook of my elbow. The sleeve's fabric felt nice and warm.
After I was kicked off the ship, this cloth sleeve was one of the few things I could take comfort in still having.
The Janissary armor? Gone.
The Onyx armor from Eden Prime? Gone.
The Lancer Ashley had given me on Noveria? Gone.
The only things left on my person were my shitty omni-tool and my shitty gun, the only one in this shitty Galaxy that could currently run out of ammo. Those things and the crew uniform Kaidan had lent me earlier. Though it was technically also Alliance property, Shepard had at least begrudgingly left me that, as I would have otherwise left the ship in my birthday suit. They were sure to remove the Alliance insignia before I did though, so now it just looked like a plain blue and black jumpsuit. It didn't look exactly fashionable. But then again, neither did anyone else. Not to me anyway.
The bartender I believed to be named Suris suddenly slid a drink in front of me with a toothy grin. "Sorry if I didn't get it quite right," the Turian said teasingly. "This might be the first time I've ever been asked to serve one here." I gave back a pathetic frown in response. "Hey, ain't nothing wrong with a fella wanting something a little sweet every now and then," she said with a wink.
The pale-skinned turian then waltzed away to the other end of the bar, to serve a destitute Hanar who had apparently just lost its mate after it had lost all their money gambling. That poor, big, stupid jellyfish. I looked back down to stare into the eyes of the abomination currently sitting below my face. Half of the drink seemed to be made of whip cream, no doubt a joke on my bartender's part. But the joke was on her in the end because I love cream.
As I mulled over how hilarious my in your end-o was, I now looked back up to the many other-wordly drinks shelved across from me. There were dozens upon dozens of bottles stacked there, blue, green, red and colors indescribably alien, all scrawled with gibberish languages, their numbers utterly legion, which I kind of found surprising with how small the bar was. The sight was quite aweing to be honest.
The most common drinks on it appeared to be an assorted collection of 'Batarian shard wines', Asari honey meads, bottles of pale green liquid labelled 'Elasa, Sorrow's Companion', and something cleverly named 'Thessiangria' which was apparently the Asari's 'UNIQUE TAKE ON THE EARTH-BASED ALCHOLIC BEVERAGE ORIGINATING FROM THE HUMAN HOME-WORD REGION OF SPAIN NAMED SANGRIA WHERE WHICH IT IS MADE FROM VARIOUS FERMENTED FRUITS'. I mean...the font for the drink's label was ridiculously big. While I'd say that was poor marketing, I did just read the entirety of the label. Among these drinks were still a large variety of others, including but not limited to: Turian brandies, Salarian rums, Batarian 'vodka', Elcor 'brunswech' whatever the hell that was, one jar containing Hanar mindfish, and an inordinate amount of different Human liqueurs. Incidentally, that seemed to be our biggest contribution to the interstellar alcohol scene.
I lowered my hand and omni-tool after I had finished reading most of the translated tags. With a sigh, I then took another glance around me. The bar was still dead, my bartender still busy with other affairs, and I found myself for the first time...getting bored. Which I guess was a good thing since I was no longer moping on the fact that I had just been kicked off the Normandy, and how it all could have been avoided.
Could have told the truth from the beginning. Not tell them that I was from a different universe or anything...but that I just had no idea who I really was. I mean, still convey that I knew that Saren was a mad man and had to be stopped...but I could have been quiet on everything else. But...hm. Every time we returned to the Citadel, I could have ditched the others and then returned to the ship right when they were about to leave, telling them that I had 'learned' things around the station. Dammit. Probably would have been suspicious, but better than just downright lying...heh. I could have socialized with the crew more too. Say what they wanted to hear, give them various anecdotes that were similar to events in their own lives, gifts, compliments, etcetera, etcetera. It might feel a little dirty since I already know most of their personal history but...I guess that's why I didn't. Shit. I could have also not disagreed with every decision Shepard ever made....
What the hell. How did I fuck everything up?
I shook my head when I realized I was doing it again. I already spent countless hours thinking about 'what if'. With a pathetic groan, I pushed away the empty drink and decided to get up. "Think I could pay my tab?" I asked across the room. "Sure!" Suris said to me as she rushed back to take the credit chit out of my hand. Several minutes later, I signed the electronic bill, burned the chit, steadied myself with a nearby chair, and headed for the door.
"Don't be a stranger!" she called out after me.
As soon as the door before me slid open, I was immediately blinded. Blinking furiously as I stumbled out of the hole in the wall, the noise, sights and smells of Kithoi Ward immediately began to assault my senses.
Kithoi Ward. The Ward of Mass Effect 1. Apparently. Chora's Den, Flux, C-Sec HQ. They were all just an hour's walk away. Or a several minute sky car ride. I assumed that's what I used to get here, because I had no other clue on how I would have made it out to these boondocks otherwise. I could barely make out the Citadel tower in the distance.
I stood there blinking, taking several more minutes for my eyes to fully readjust to the dimly lit street stretching out before me. With another groan, and still blinded by light, I staggered into the massive throng of Citadelians already on it. The street had definitely changed since morning.
There was almost too much to take in as my sight gradually began to return. Every alien species you could imagine seeing on the Citadel passed me by, all of differing heights, colors, weights, and general appearances. A whitish indigo Hanar held hands/tentacles with a small teal asari child on my left. A gang of sketchy looking human teenagers eyed people suspiciously from an alley not too far ahead. Two light-green salarians of middling height were arguing with a tiny, hissing vorcha in front of a shop, and a large ruby-crested Krogan shoved what seemed to be armadillos down his mouth in front of a skittish, young looking Quarian with a dull brown suit. There was even a band of street-performing humans in elaborate costumes and make-up juggling balls in the center of the street.
Just like on Earth, they were largely ignored. Despite being again overwhelmed by the sights, I began walking down the street, and as logic would dictate, suddenly found myself bumping into the person in front of me. Before I could apologize, the grey Salarian's eyes went bulbous and I closed my eyes, quite expecting a punch to the face. But bizarrely, I quickly found myself being pushed inside an establishment instead, with him saying, "You see, you want, you buy, yes?!"
Before I knew what was happening next, the door slid close behind me, and I found myself in a dark room filled with dozens of shelves, each covered with an assortment of knick-knacks. Another Salarian wearing what appeared to be an orange DBZ scouter then began talking to me from behind the shop's counter across the room.
"Ah, is that military-grade hardware I see?"
I took a sluggard look around, only to find the rest of the room empty. "Uh...me?" I gestured with a finger.
"Yes, you!" the grey Salarian replied beckoning me closer. "That's an Alliance-issued blue-wire model isn't it?"
I looked down at my arm and then back up. "You...know what model this omni-tool is?" Then I looked back down at my sleeved arm and back up. "...you can see my omni-tool?"
"Delumcore Eye," the Salarian said tapping his eye-piece. "Analyzes tools, even when their running silent! A must for my trade."
"And, uh...what trade is that?" I mumbled nervously, now looking around the shop at the various boxes shelved above me for clues.
"Why, the 'tool trade of course!" he replied enthusiastically. "This is THE original Omir's Omni-tool Office!"
"...Omir's what-"
"And YES, that is CORRECT, your eyes do not deceive you! You are currently looking at none other than THE Omir himself! My office is the only place one need go to obtain an otherworldly replacement for your old, obsolete 'tool. What can I do for you army?"
"Uhhh..."
"And trust me when I say I get customers from the military all the time! The blue-wire is decent compared to the more standard models...if you don't mind the outrageous omni-gel conversion times." He laughed like that was a joke. Then he narrowed his eyes. "But you're looking for the real tools aren't you. The ones with customizable interfaces that most armed forces neglect to include. Ones with modulating thermal conductors!"
"Uh...not exactly," I murmured, finding my head now throbbing. I needed to find a place to sit down. I definitely had way too much to drink...
"Ah, so you're not here for a new tool. You're here for a new feature then yes?" Omir asked as he suddenly teleported beside me, stopping my body right as I began heading out of the store. With one graceful move, he whipped me back around towards the kiosk on his counter and began coaxing me there. While urging me forward, I found that the Salarian towering over me resembled a tall, lanky, nightmarish bog monster. It really didn't help my pounding head-ache.
"I, uh, duh...don't think I have-"
"Have the name of it? Don't worry, Omir promises we'll find it. What did you have in mind?"
"Uhhh..."
"We have the new scanning suite released by Cision Technologies!" he said aloud, scrambling to pull it up on the screen. "It's updated to now detect over fifty two newly discovered nadio signals imperative to intercepting military quantum communications!" Seeing the blank look on my face he continued on. "Alright then, what if I told you we had Ariake Technologies' ceramic fabricator LiteValloy! It now allows your 'tool to convert materials that are only comprised of about 60% industrial plastic to omni-gel!"
"I don't-"
"Okay, you drive a hard bargain, but I think I have what you want." He leaned uncomfortably close to my ear. "This is a secret, but we diiiiid just recently receive the cutting-edge Cipher Node. An application specifically designed to cut the time it takes to replicate an encryption algorithm in half! Vital to those who need to decrypt enigma-level cipher texts on the fly!" Then in a hushed voice, he added, "Extra-legal in some Citadel zones of space."
"Uhhh, I'm not-"
"A heat-synced medi-gel dispenser then? VI-weapon coordinating combat system? New-Wave defense drone. Sirta Sabotage suite. Retrofitted overload capacitor. Omni-blade. Figor Flash. Atmospheric analyzer-"
"No, no, I'm sorry, I can't do any of those, I-wait-"
"Flashlight. Camera. Music-"
"Wait, wait, wait. What was that last one?"
"Music? We have several-"
"No, no. A couple before that."
"An...atmospheric analyzer? Oh, uh, we actually don't have any of those but-"
"No, I...did you mention you guys had an omni-blade or something-"
"Several!" Omir suddenly said loudly. I winced as he did. The Salarian wasted no time as he leaned back over his kiosk, and clicked several times before pulling up a bunch of different designs. "I see you have a very unique taste," Omir suddenly said now alarmingly behind me, pushing me closer to the kiosk while massaging my shoulders. "Not many have looked at our omni-blade models since the Alliance released the concept all those cycles ago. But they should!" he quickly added. "We have the best around! Plenty of choices to choose from. There is the first generation singular blade design released by Aldrin Labs for close combat situations...classic design...and there's also the...forked design patented by Hahne-Kedar. It conducts electrical currents through it's...and oh! There's the one that curves...very sleek...svelte form...and the...ah, yes, the classic blade that's sharpened to a point...and the one that's, uh, well...it's very abstract but the concept seems sound, I- definitely as practical as the rest." Then in an almost inaudible whisper, he added, "Disclaimer, seller cannot be held accountable for failure or misuse of product."
"Uh...what about that one," I asked ignoring him, pointing at the specific image of a long, orangish, two-pronged blade.
"Ahhhh, yes! Good choice," Omir suddenly purred next to my ear. He pulled the image up on the entire screen, which was accompanied by a bunch of indecipherable glyphs, and then leaned in incredibly close. "The Verteron Prong is a...disposable, forked silicon-carbide blade...that is conveniently flash-forged directly by your omni-tool's...miniature fabricator. The transparent, diamond-hard blades are...suspended by mass effect fields safely away...from the user's skin. Ah, of course. Uh...Orange, warning lights illuminate the field around it so...the blade only sears the target intended. Warning. Capable of causing burns up to the third degree. Injuries may be fatal." He looked up from the screen. "We can change the lights."
Now...I have to admit...I had always wanted to use an omni-blade. Not during combat, as that would be stupid. If I was close enough to something that I was able to stab it, I'd probably already be dead. But in my free time, when I was all alone...it would be pretty awesome to pretend that I was swinging around a light-saber or something. Actually, I imagine it'd be really bad-ass. But, alas, it wasn't to be. Back when I tried to do this on the Normandy, I found out that omni-blades were a separate add-on feature for the standard...'tool. And where the hell would I go to get one?
But oh ho ho, look at me now. Here I was, alone on the Citadel, in an omni-tool shop of all places, one purchase away from actually having one in my hand. My throbbing head-ache dulled.
"How...how much would it cost?"
"It only costs...1,500 credits," Omir said closely peering at the screen.
Damn.
"Oh. Uh...nevermind then," I replied quietly. And as my head-ache returned, so did all my worries.
If I don't have enough credits for a...for omni...omni-tool things, how was...how was I going to...two afford an apartment room-food?! Or water? Underwear?! I'm going to have to find a job. I'm g-going to have to clean-clean-wipe...wipe down tables or something! I'm broke, I'm-
"Oh wait, you...I forgot to mention your military discount!" Omir quickly said as I began to turn away.
"I don't...for...for how much?" I slurred.
"About 20%! That would put it at the low, low price of just 1,200 credits!" Then he saw the look on my face. "Oh, sorry, I forgot that this was the Serti-model. Let me just...ah, yes, it's really just 1,000 credits! 1,000! Great deal no? Erm...or uh...900?...850?...830...800...780-750-740-720-7...FIVE HUNDRED CREDITS." I frowned and shook my head. He frowned too. "...two hundred?"
My face immediately lightened up. "I have that!"
"Wonderful!" the Salarian immediately replied clapping his hands together. I immediately flash-forged a credit chit with my omni-tool and handed it to him. And several minutes later, just like that, he was installing a very, very, small chip into my 'tool. "And finished!" Omir said excitedly. "You, my friend, are now the proud owner of your own omni-blade!"
"Cool," I replied with a stupid grin on my face. Definitely not a mistake deciding to come in here. That was for sure.
"If you ever need help adjusting it, or possess more credits for a new feature, don't forget to come back to Omir's Omni-tool Office!" he called from behind his counter as I already made to leave.
"I won't!" I replied drunkenly, waving my omni-tool arm back at him as I stumbled out of his shop. Or tripped. I wasn't quite sure. All I knew was that I barely stopped myself from eating the pavement. Or polished ceramic floor. I didn't know what the hell this place was made of to be honest. Upon leaving the store however, I did notice one problem. I realized that I still had my credit chit clutched in my right hand. I held it out away from my face, wondering why I hadn't already de-fabricated it with my 'tool. They always said to melt it down after every use, so you don't lose it. Or so that someone doesn't-
"Pluck," a Quarian suddenly said, taking the chit out of my hand.
-steal it. "Oh shit," I murmured to myself as the alien suddenly disappeared into a throng of other aliens. "That's mine," I whispered.
I should get it back. That was mine. It has the rest of my money imprinted on it. I should really get it back. I SHOULD REALLY GET IT BACK.
"Oh shit," I now shouted as my eyes found the alien weaving in and out of the crowds. I immediately dove in after him. The small Quarian was like a cheetah, moving deftly around a small groups of Asari maidens, spinning out of the way of two Turians, sliding under the legs of a large Elcor. In comparison, I was more like a Krogan, barreling my way through everyone smaller than me, and blundering around those who weren't.
If anyone got an idea of what was currently happening, they didn't exactly seem to care. "Give me back my chit you thief!" I decided to yell as I chased him. Yup. Definitely didn't care. The thief didn't respond to my demands either, deciding to simply hop over an Asari hobo slumped on the ground instead. He then ducked into an alleyway further ahead on my right. "Oh no you don't," I rasped to myself as I soon ran into it right after him.
But it was at this point ol booze brain begun to how realize shape I was bad in. It wheezing with soon and began the slipping ended on cold with me the floor and the smell Quarian had gone was too much and garbage before that bin of bags collided and-
"God, oh g-uh," I gurgled as the pile of trash I bumped into began toppling over me. As the waste began cascading over me, with no clear end in sight, I knew I was done. Incoherent and utterly sure of an oncoming coma, I accepted my end. Let the rancid aromas of alien garbage wash over me. Let the contents of unworldly debris rain over my body. I didn't spit out what I imagined to be a Turian toe nail. This is where they would find my corpse. Surrounded by trash. Unwashed, unkempt. I puked a little bit.
"Let it all out," I said babying myself.
"Look vhat ve have here," a voice suddenly rang out.
"Nothing office-no. Uhm...you don't want this. I'm not drun-"
"Hand it over."
"But uh...you don't like trash. I know you don't...I'm not-"
"It's mine, fuck you," another voice said.
"But I thought I did...what?" I opened an eye. Then I opened the other. Utterly confused, I mustered the last of my strength and heroically shoved a moldy box off myself. And with that monumental task done, I propped myself up. Only to find nothing. No one. Nada. Which was puzzling because I could have sworn I-
"YOU LITTLE SHIT-"
I sighed as I realized I hadn't lost my mind. Or had I. The drunk in me didn't care as it gathered the last of my strength and got me up out of the trash pile. The voices were assuredly near. I just needed to...
"Hey...omni-gel," I muttered as I found a silverish-white residue lying on the ground.
"AGh!"
I lifted my head away from the paste in response. That was a cry of pain. In a state of delirium, I began shuffling toward the corner single-mindedly, toward the next alley way which would most definitely turn out to be more horrid than the last. And lo and behold, I was right. As I rounded the corner, I found none other than the Quarian that had stolen my chit, lord be praised. The little bitch. Curled up on the ground, moaning like a baby. I stared at him puzzled for a little bit before a huge boot came swinging at his midriff. I cringed as it got him good. Served him right. But not really I thought as another shoe found his helmet.
"Hey."
I followed the voice now, which seemed to be attached to the boot that had just kicked the kid. Unfortunately, it belonged to a scary-looking thug. One with a loose green shirt, seemingly over-sized cargo pants, and a nasty-looking mug covered with stubble and sandy brown hair. I took a step back in response. Only due to losing my balance of course but...I think I they might have thought otherwise. Him and the other four scoundrels standing across the alleyway from me sneered.
"Here," the thug said in what I now determined to be a thick Russian accent, tossing something through the air at me.
It hit me square in the face. And in the midst of their ensuing laughter, I looked down to find my credit chit of all things.
"You should be of more careful," the goon said. "Zese suit rats steal zings all zee time. If you don't vatch yourself, they'll steal zee clothes right off your back." Still staring a little longer than I meant to, he was prompted to add in a thick accent, "You are velcome."
"Uh...thanks," I replied, clumsily bending over to pick it back off the ground.
Then the kid made his move. Knocking over the thug who had a foot on top of him, the Quarian thrusted himself out from under the gang's gaze and made a beeline to get away. Up until another goon clotheslined him and threw him back into the center of the group. And then proceeded to start wailing on him.
"We've got zis freak," the man with the glazed look and stubble said as they continued to beat the ever living shit out of the kid. Though now that I took a second look...his face still seemed pretty youthful. The thug was actually a teenager by the looks of it. "No need to zank us." I meekly nodded and backed out of there. The scene was pretty gut-wrenching. Or maybe it just felt that way because of my stomach-
"BLARG-uff," I said as I vomited onto my feet a little more. "Mmm."
As I spat onto the ground, I knew something was off. I gave one last look over my shoulder toward the alley way I was leaving. The scene of five guys wailing mercilessly on a kid. "A thief more like," I muttered to myself, alone in the dark alley way. "They actually helped me," I added as I stared down at the chit in my right hand. Then I brought my left hand level with it, nubs and all.
Fuck was I pathetic.
I slowly dissolved the chit with my omni-tool. Then after a deep sigh...I turned around. They were racists ganging up on a defenseless kid. Or were they speciests? Ahhh, it didn't matter. It was five on one. They were beating the kid within an inch of his life. Probably with glee.
Though I really wish I didn't, I still had a conscious. I still had my humanity.
"Hey...cool it," I muttered weakly as they continued to kick at the Quarian curled up in a tight ball. Ignored, I tried again. "Hey...leave the kid alone." I grimaced as I suddenly felt another wave of nausea come. Hunched over, I was still wracked with problems of my own when I heard the crack. Looking up, I now found a distinct streak going down the Quarian's yellow visor. "Hey! ENOUGH!"
And then I puked. Whichever gained their attention, I don't know. All I did know was that I now had an audience of five angry Russians.
"Vhat?" one said to the side.
"Leave the...pick on someone your own size," I murmured while still heaved over.
"Ve stop zis criminal for you, gave you back your chit no?" the one with the stubble said again. "Vhat the hell do you vant?"
"To leave the fucking...oh god...just...just get the hell out of here," I said trembling now. The shakes were getting to me.
He looked at the guy beside him, and then to another. Then he let out a laugh. A very fake one I might add. "You don't mind your own fucking busi-ness, ve'll teach you to."
One thug took a step in my direction to scare me away. In response, ol' booze brain panicked. I pulled down my pants and whipped it out. And as I carefully handled the shaft, removing it from my tidy widies, looks of fear crossed their faces. But luckily for them, my fingers were deft enough to grab exactly what I wanted. Though it shook, I brandished my Predator in front of them, and the color in their faces drained further.
"Put zhat away, before ve-"
"On the...the count of three," I drunkenly murmured. "You're going to leave.
"You're going to throw away your life for zis alien-"
"Three." Two of the delinquents decided to skadaddle on out.
"Cowards!" he yelled after them as another went.
"Two."
"You don't know of vho you're messing with," he now told me with menace.
"Motty, he's insane-"
"You're fucking with ze Tenth Street Reds mother-"
"ONE!"
I fought back a barf. And with that motion, he and the last remaining gang member bolted. With gun still in outstretched hand, warily glancing in the direction they ran, I slowly trotted over to the unconscious quarian kid. His brown suit was crinkled, glass visor cracked, and the plastic/ceramic/whatever material it was made of was dented in some places. The crack was the most concerning, as I'm pretty sure the kid could catch something. Deadly in fact. Then, I suddenly barfed on him. I frowned after wiping my mouth but...I didn't really give a fuck at this point.
"You owe me," I whispered over the mess. Job well done I thought as I patted myself on the back. Who's the bigger man now? As I turned to leave though...I realized that I couldn't. Couldn't leave a battered kid covered in upchuck alone in an alleyway that is. That would be what they call 'a dick move'. As I stood back over him, ol' booze brain came up with one last brilliant idea for the day. With a grimace, I hefted him up over my shoulder (delicately), and with upchuck getting on my only set of clothes, I exited the alley way. A few feet later and I had already lost my strength. I was forced to drag his body across the street, a sight that probably alarmed many, as I made my way over to one of the Citadel's nearest automated transit systems.
Much, Much, Much Later.
I couldn't help but feel giddy as electricity sparked from her tool. Her hands were extremely deft, conducting the operation with the utmost care as they worked their magic. A digit twitched as she soldered it again with her device. I now had a mechanical hand. Like Luke fuckin' Skywalker. I guess technically it was just a few fingers, but tomato, tomato. She had been working on them for a while now, and it'd be hard to miss my blatant amazement. Science had come quite a long way in the last century. Although I guess it would be almost absurd if it hadn't. As the device whirred, we almost didn't hear the groan over the sound. Almost. After quickly shutting it off, the doctor placed the tool down delicately, and then rolled her stool back over to his bedside.
"How are you feeling?" she asked the kid softly. She got another groan in response. "You're safe now. Don't worry." Her thick accent sounded Orlesian. Or French rather. Definitely French. At least France exists. You know you're losing it when you start wondering if someone's from a place of fiction. Although-
I grimaced as one of the digits on my left hand twitched on its own, peeling some of my skin back with the motion. Oh god, I wish I didn't see that. Peeling flesh is pretty gross. Especially your own. Jesus.
But I have to say, I am glad I'm here.
After getting into the Citadel' free taxi system, I punched in the rough coordinates of where I thought I needed to go. Dr. Michel's clinic. The kid looked in pretty rough shape, and I didn't really have anywhere else to turn. She helped Tali back when she was alone on her own, so the doctor knew enough about Quarian physiology to help. I hoped. And she seemed like someone who would leap at the chance to participate in something like Doctors without Borders. Someone who'd help those who couldn't afford it. So I typed in that I wanted to go to Chora's Den, and using my memory, dragged the unconscious mess back to her clinic.
And it seemed to be the right decision. Without a word, she got to work immediately upon my arrival, helping me get the Quarian kid to a bed and then examining each and every wound on his person. Internal bleeding? No problem as she stuck needles into several places inside his suit. Suit rupture? No problem either as she repaired what tears there were with something similar to omni or medi-gel. And after she was finished, she even took care of me. I passed out literally seconds after she had helped the kid, and woke up only to find her attention now focused on me. Without asking, she had hefted me up into another bed herself and gave me treatment. Threw my clothes in a wash. Put up a futuristic IV drip for my dehydration/hangover. And had even gotten fingers for my hand. Synthetic replacements for my poor, maimed hand. Only two were missing. Ring and middle. But...
I imagine they were expensive. Wouldn't think they were stuff you just have lying around. And they weren't. The doctor told me that as soon as she saw my hand, she had ordered these prosthesis for me in the 24 hours I was out, and gone to work on grafting them as soon as they arrived. Having a cute, red-headed doctor with a French accent who did all she could to help those in need fawning over me? Pretty nice reward for my good deeds I'd say.
I flinched as she pricked one of the cybernetic fingers again. "I apologize if that hurt, but we're almost done here."
"So...what did he say?" I asked after another moment of silence, save for the device's whirring. She had just been over there with him for quite a while.
"He was unfortunately still unconscious when I checked. I ran his suit diagnostics and took a few readings of his immune system while I was with him however. While he does have a fever, that's nothing unexpected. After he wakes up, I'll sure he'll be in good health," she said with a sigh of relief. "As long as he stays out of harm's way." Her eyes now narrowed in concern. "I don't mean to burden you...but if it's not too much trouble, do you think you could...escort him back home once he's awake?"
"You scared he might be messed with again?" I asked, looking back to his bed.
"Messed with? He was nearly killed!" she now said angrily. "The men who did that...they must have be utterly despicable to have done that to an innocent child."
"Yeah...they didn't exactly come across as saintly," I replied as I remembered the men, or kids that had done it rather. Though that group of delinquents did return my chit. They weren't thieves looking for a quick buck apparently. They were just...racists/speciests with misguided intentions? Some kind of neighborhood watch gone wrong? I thought to myself what that one named Motty said before he ran. What he had called them-
"But do you think you can? It would put my mind at ease if someone made sure he got home safely," Doctor Michel quickly asked again.
I grinded my teeth as she made one last adjustment and turned off her laser doohickey. "Yeah...sure. If he doesn't run off."
Following my eyes, the doctor spun around appalled. "Where do you think you are going?!" she scolded him as the Quarian now bolted for the exit of the clinic. Unfortunately, he found it locked upon arrival. He messed with the interface for a good while before he finally collapsed to the ground. Still wasn't in the best shape apparently. Surprise surprise.
"What the...the hell did you apes do to me?" he gasped accusingly.
"Apes?!" I replied back as the Doctor got up from her stool. "Listen here you little ingrate-"
"Mister Shield!" the doctor replied disapprovingly. I shrunk back as she looked at me with disapproval. But with a quick sigh, she turned back around to address the thief. "I treated your condition with a combination of antibiotics and antihistamines but performed nothing invasive. Though you were in horrible health when you were put into my care, you should be just fine with a few more hours of rest. However, you might not have been so lucky had this man not come upon you when he did."
"Eh...so?" he blurted caustically.
"You should thank him for saving your life."
"Thank him? Fuck that-"
"Hey, fuck you, you little shit!"
I piped down as Doctor Michel gave me another piercing stare. But she quickly returned her attention back to the little bastard near the exit. "Fine. I won't force you to express your gratitude. But I'm sure your parents would disapprove of such manners young man."
He kept his eyes on the door, obviously putting in effort to avoid eye contact. "...can I go then?"
"You're free to leave whenever you wish."
I could make out the Quarian narrowing his eyes through his visor as he turned his attention back to her. "Then let me out."
"You still have a fever, so I prefer that you stay awhile longer. As I said before however, if you really wish to leave, I will not stop you." The Quarian waited for the door. But the doctor wasn't finished. "I will ask that you let Mister Shield accompany you though to-"
"What? No!" he replied angrily.
"But the men that attacked you-"
"I'd rather be dead then let one of you primates even share the same air as me!"
"Excuse you!? Fuck you, you little...you little bosh'tet!" I hollered at him as I got up from my cot.
"Mister Shield! Please! Calm down-"
"Wha...what did you just call me?!" he replied indignant.
"You heard me you Bosh-Tet."
"How do you- fuck you, you flea-ridden, discount Asari!"
I couldn't help but guffaw at that one. "Discount Asari? Hah, that's rich coming from a snot-nosed little suit rat!" I wasn't familiar with the term but it sounded derogatory enough when those thugs used it. Oh god. Did I just use something akin to the mother of all slurs for Quarians? How racist was what I just said? How speciest was it-
"Suit rat? How original. But what else can you expect from a Human."
"Both of you-"
"That supposed to be an insult?"
"Are you stupid? Your kind's a blight on the galaxy! Just the sight of you makes us all nauseous."
"Just the sight? Well, at least we don't smell then." I took a large whiff. "Ahhh. Because tasting air is so nice. Don't you think? Oh wait."
"Fuck you! And the fuck you don't! I'm glad I'm wearing a suit so I don't have to tolerate your noxious stench!"
"Oh, I'm about to keelah bitch right now. Wait 'til-"
"ENOUGH!" Doctor Michel suddenly burst, silencing the room. My cheeks reddened as she began to go on a tirade, scolding us both. Me for acting like a child. Him for being a little ungrateful racist. Or speciest. Or whatever. By the end, it was decided. He would leave, and I would see that he got to wherever he lived safely. Neither of us were a fan but...we really didn't have much choice.
Doctor Michel refused any payment for her services though she had done more than I ever dreamed she could. And even if she didn't, I didn't have the credits to repay her kindness. So I had to pay her back in some other fashion. Even if that was agreeing to walk home some juvenile delinquent that should have been left shivering half-dead in an alleyway.
And since the little bastard himself wouldn't give us any contact information for his parents, she decided that he should get home as soon as possible to not worry them further. Why he had to tolerate my presence is that the Quarian couldn't get more than two feet without falling over. While refusing any more help the doctor could have given, the little asshole obviously wouldn't make it far on his own. So here we were as we exited the building together.
"Good luck," she called after us as we left her clinic. "And be sure to contact me when you get him home safely!"
"Thanks, I will," I called back, waving with my more or less repaired hand. I then used that very hand to give the kid the finger as he tried to dart off on his own. He got about five steps before toppling over. "Yeah. We're not doing this."
But as I turned to leave, I remembered the sweet doctor and her one wish. To take him home. To get him there safely. Groaning, I turned back around and helped him off the ground, which earned me a smack across the face.
"Don't touch me you damn dirty ape!" he rasped.
"You're a little shit aren't you," I muttered back angrily. "I should have just left you in that alleyway!"
"I'd rather be there then stuck with you. Why don't-wait, what are you-hey, stop! Stop! GET OFF! NO!"
Though he shouted, he didn't put up much of a fight as I hoisted him up under my arm. Luckily, he was much lighter than I remembered. Although this time, I guess I wasn't black out drunk. I ended up carrying him while he complained all the way to the nearest transit station, upon which, I dropped him to the ground.
"OW! Fuck you!"
"God, you're annoying," I murmured as I interacted with the station's touch screen.
"Shut up bosh'tet!"
I groaned. Then with a sneer, I asked, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Haha, nice one.
Surprisingly, the kid shut up. Though I felt a pang of guilt as he did. Might have gone a little too far. Gotten a little too close to home. But...whatever. Did Quarians even kiss each other? Is that even a sign of affection for them? I wanted to say yes but...hell, the little potty mouth should have been grateful I was even getting him a ride, let alone escorting him all the way home. I mean what am I, a baby-sitter?
"Where the hell we headed?" I asked as it confirmed a ride was on the way. He mumbled something through his visor, but I didn't quite catch his backhanded retort this time around. "I'm sorry?"
"...I can get home myself."
"...and?"
More mumbling.
"...and?"
"...you can leave."
I crossed my arms. "No can do punk. I made Doctor Michel a promise."
He noticeably shrunk back with the word promise. "...so?"
"Unlike you cretin, I have morals." The kid scowled. I assume. One couldn't really tell with the mask and all. But I didn't really care. Because fuck him. I would be out fifty credits if he had his way. "And I keep my promises." Shepard would probably disagree. Would disagree. But fuck her too.
"..."
"So...where do you live?"
"..."
"We need an address to get there."
"..."
"Oh my god. The silent treatment? Really?"
"..."
"What are you? Eight?"
"..."
He just stared at the ground, sitting silently where I dropped him now. I let out a groan. This was going to take forever. Which was right when a sky car pulled down beside us. Lucky me. As it opened its doors, I swiftly picked the Quarian up and threw him inside its compartment. As he crudely threw back an insult in response, I hopped in after him and shut the door close. And then, after sitting there silently for a couple more minutes, the Quarian begrudgingly told the car to take us to warehouse dock 045-B. Recognizing the location, the sky car displayed the route on its gps and took back to the air. I decided to get comfy as the silent sally sat next to me.
Codex Entry:
Avina's Visitor's Guide to the Citadel (The Wards)
Welcome to Presidium Tourism Terminal 435. There are many points of interest here, including the Citadel Embassies and C-Sec headquarters. On the far end of this level, you can see the Citadel Tower, where the Council meets regularly to discuss matters of interstellar importance.
Input 'I want to know more about the Wards.'
The five arms of the Prothean structure referred to as the Citadel are colloquially known as the Wards. They are the residential centres of this great structure, with each being a self-contained environment home to millions. Over time, each ward has developed their own diverse cultural identity and history. The Citadel homepage on the Extranet can be consulted for further information on these structural marvels of the Citadel.
Input 'I want to know more about Tayseri Ward.'
Tayseri Ward was the first ward of the Citadel explored, and later inhabited, after its initial founding. After exploration, the Asari Republic designated it safe for colonization in the year 550 BCE, and has since become home to the largest Asari demographic on the Citadel.
Input 'I want to know more about Kithoi Ward.'
Kithoi Ward was the second ward of the Citadel deemed acceptable for colonization, though large scale habitation did not occur until the year 500 BCE, with the founding of the Citadel Council. Since then, it has become home to the largest Salarian and Turian demographics on the Citadel.
Input 'I want to know more about Zakera Ward.'
Zakera Ward was the third ward of the Citadel deemed acceptable for colonization, though large scale habitation did not occur until 280 BCE with the arrival of the Volus Protectorate. Since then, it has become home to the largest Volus, Hanar, Elcor, and Krogan demographics on the Citadel.
Input 'I want to know more about Bachjret Ward.'
Bachjret Ward was the fourth ward of the Citadel deemed acceptable for colonization, though large scale habitation did not occur until 105 BCE with the arrival of the Batarian Hegemony. Since then, it has become home to the largest Quarian and Human demographics on the Citadel.
Input 'I want to know more about Shalta Ward.'
Aroch Ward, formerly known as Shalta Ward, was the fifth ward of the Citadel deemed acceptable for colonization, though large scale habitation did not occur until 355 CE with the arrival of the Krogan Clans. After the Krogan Rebellions, the Ward was renamed to Aroch Ward.
Input 'Why is it my job to write descriptions for this piece of junk.'
Please list any grievances you have to the Council Tourism Board. Goodbye and thank you for using Avina. Please enjoy your visit to the Citadel.
Author's Notes:
Wow. What a momentous occasion. A milestone in the making. After all this time, we're finally here.
"The hell you talking about?"
What? You don't know? I think we all know what today is Dan.
"No, we don't."
Why, it's the Eighth of December, the First Anniversary of MASS EFFECTIVE: A HERO MADE of course!
"Who the fuck cares."
FUCK YOU DAN. I CARE. Thirty four chapters. Over 200,000 words. The ups. The downs. The twists and turns. The tears. The blood. The lamentations of the dead as I summoned a spirit from the nether realm to carry on my work long after I died. Ah, the memories. Anyhoo, I foolishly imagined this story to be done long ago, finished back in the Summer of 2015. It felt just like it was yester season. What a fool I was. But we must carry onwards, ever onwards, never looking back, if this story will run it's course. Will it? Only time will tell. But it will of course be thanks to you, to you all who've stuck it through thick and thin, through all the heartache and absence, through all the inane actions of Shield, through all the wild accusations of Shepard. Thank you for reading. And since this is a time for introspection and self-reflection, what better way to do this then to address some REVIEWS. Remember those guys?! Replying to REVIEWS?! Ah, good times.
Reviews:
Ford Bronco - Thank you very much brah. I really do appreciate the compliment. But Shepard's not different. You're different! Hah, Roasted!
Blazeit420 - Gasp! 5/10?! Bro...thank you...I never thought I'd get such a high score. You really made my day :'( . Oh, and you suck. Haha, roasted!
Guest - How'd you guess the surprise ending? That's all I thought the Reapers ever wanted. To be accepted. And have tea over Shepard's dead body. Alas, now I'll have to change the conclusion since you've already guessed it. Everyone say thanks to Guest for ruining the story's climax. And I hate to tell you, but you should clip that nose hair. It's gross, and dirty, and scaring everyone. HAHA, ROASTED!
Oy'this is'shit - There. Updated. Updated I say! Will this satisfy your insatiable lust?! Ah, who am I kidding. Nothing will ever satisfy you. "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" HAHA, ROASTED! *High-Five*
"Wouldn't that insult the girl , because it means she can't satisfy anyone?"
Shut up Dan, no one likes you. BOOM, ROASTED!
Vader's Fist - AND AHA! I KNEW IT. Updates are all anyone ever cares about. There's never a 'How are you doing Stache?" or "What nice weather we're having Stache?" or "I just ate a sandwich and it was really good Stache, you should try some." Just, "oh look, update." Maybe I'll just stop updating altogether. How about that? How would you like that HUH?! ...haha, no, just kidding, I love updating more than you love that dildo lying under your bed. Haha, roasted!
BJ 4aHandsomeman - And there's a reason for both of those, totally on purpose believe it or not. As Blaze mentioned, Shepard's a total jerk. So why? I hoped the last chapter might have spread some light on that, as she sees Shield as someone who isn't trustworthy, a traitor, which is a big no no for Shepard, and another flashback down the line perhaps. He's also lied to her, abused their trust, yadda yadda yadda so it's no big surprise. But the main reason for her just being uncouth is because 'RENSHEP DON'T DOUBLE DIP YOU DIG?'
"Is...is that supposed to be funny?"
"I think they're referencing something."
"So...no?"
Fuck you Dan. And Shepard as a Renegade is a total jerk. While Renegade options might present those hard decisions that force you to question the moral ambiguity of the situation, bottom right dialogue options just make Shepard an ass. Seriously.
'Sometimes Joker is a real ass. I just try to ignore him.' Joker has feelings too Shep.
'Conrad, you have no idea what I've done. THIS IS HOW A GUN IN YOUR FACE FEELS.' Poor Conrad, he badgers you for an autograph and you stick a live gun in his face?
'You will fight at my side, or get crushed under my heel. But you will NOT stand in my way.' That's like something Seto Kaiba would say. Asshole alert.
Just being a dick to random people at the slightest trigger. If Renegade Shepard were in a movie, they'd be the asshole hitman with no morals who the protagonist kills as the penultimate boss. If you play a renegade shep, how the hell do you recruit people and make friends while being such a MASSIVE dick. Even if they respect that you're the best at what you do, it's bonkers why they open up to Shepard at all. I still don't understand realistically why the Alliance or Council keep you on these important assignments even though you're an interstellar incident waiting to happen too. Even Kai Leng who's apparently as bad ass as Shepard was kicked to the curb for being a douche. And if you're mildly annoying like Conrad, you get a gun to your face?! For just trying to get to know Shepard better?! Realistically, how does one ingratiate themselves with someone so caustic? How did your renegade Shepard react to Miranda when they first met? How does Renshep deal with someone they don't trust? I guess I might have gone overboard, but I feel like Renshep is not a very pleasant person to deal with. Regardless of scenario. A character made to hate.
And imagine if Shield actually said that. If someone told you that. Would you believe someone if they told you they knew EVERYTHING? Would they not be curious in the slightest about their motives or origins? What if they tortured you (total renshep/Cerberus/Shadow Broker/STG/every shady organization move) to get that information out if you refuse or it becomes known you're telling the truth? What if the timeline itself changed due to your information? Like where the Illusive man's Cronos station is. Did you know TIM's main base can move? If you didn't know that, and told the Alliance it was in the Horsehead Nebula, Cerberus would obviously get a tip and move before they're found. And then you'd be left to dry. Shield tried to reduce the amount of impact his presence has in the universe so far, which is why he did he what he did. Lot of exposition in some chapters for that. To avoid having information that would be useless. Say the Shadow Broker learns you told them he was on Hagalaz. He'd sink his ship like Liara did and totally come to kill you. Information is now no longer correct and someone's out for you. No bueno. Although almost every one of his explanations and decisions were stupid, you really gotta consider EVERY outcome of the things you say in this situation. Which he obviously didn't, but hey, that's why he's an idiot. Our idiot. Oh by the way, your fly's down. BOOM, ROASTED.
Teryn Fergus - And now you're like, oh jesus, I just wanted to say Shield's a Bitch. Don't give me a wall of text you narcissistic bastard. I don't care enough about your story to read a essay on it. But too late. You've already opened Pandora's box. Time to reap what you have sown. IT'S STORY TIME.
In the beginning, Shield was confused, and was thinking on the fly. So I did the same. I decided the very first thing I thought of in whatever scenario Shield was in would be what he would do. Like being an agent of the Shadow Broker. Seems legit. Why the hell would the Broker care if some insignificant rando pretended to work for him? Not like he already had billions in his network. And it seemed a good way to pawn off information too without questions. Of course, he couldn't exactly take it back once things went wrong, and under scrutiny, you can tell Shield's a hella bad liar. And so it went. Shield would do hilariously stupid things in each situation because it was the immediate reaction of whatever I thought he could do. Or sometimes it was the only way for me to guide the story where I wanted to go for him. Depends on the scenario, but mostly, yeah, Shields a pretty inept character who was designed with flaws in mind.
And a little whiner too. Oh man. 'I'm a fail whale.' 'Shepard doesn't like me.' 'I miss my family.' 'Wah.' Grow a pair and man up bitch. Everyone's different and handles situation differently no doubt. Hell, one person might even make different decisions for the same scenario if given enough time to grow. And I think that in itself is the main allure of a Self Insert Story. Not putting yourself into a story and having everyone stammer in awe as you dickpunch your way victory (I ain't naming any names here but Mary Sues plague this site yo). The story's about self-growth. Character growth. Seeing that person thrust into a completely different environment and seeing them grow into the role they've been thrust in. It's the staple and backbone of every good story that ever existed. A finds themselves in B situation and adapt to become the hero everyone needs. And I guess that's the theme I envisioned when I started this story. A Hero Made.
I'm sorry if Shield was so unbearably horrible that it made you cringe every time you saw one of his actions, but hopefully, that just makes it all the sweeter once he finally does grow, and does reach his full potential as a hero (if he ever DOES! DUN DUN DUNnnn). But yeah, over the course of this next arc, I intend for Shield to do just that. Grow. I guess we'll just have to see how much.
Captain of the Titanic - And that's not your decision to make! Slut! HA, ROASTED!
PS - JK. I love you bro. No homo.
PSS - Maybe just a little.
And last but not least-
EYYYY - You're one of my new favorite readers. Congratulations. Also, you smell bad. HA, CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT BURNED!
In the Next Chapter: Shield tours the Slums! It's quite the hardknock life for hobos! And finally...friends?!
Tune in next time on Mass Effective: A Hero Made!