"...Alexei?"

"No. Don't you fucking dare." The pistol was in my hand before his lips could move again, and I quickly threw myself down in the seat opposite his, only haphazardly attempting to hide the weapon under the table. "Think it'd be funny if you said it too huh? That you'd be able to...no, no, I guess it doesn't even matter. You got me. I can't even think of how you know what the hell that fuck said back there but...hm. Then how long have you guys been watching me huh? Were those people in the clinic just moles of yours? How much of this has been planned? Tell me huh?"

The man across from me eyed me cautiously now, so composed that I felt his previous expression hadn't even existed in the first place. "I am afraid I am unable to follow what exactly you are accusing me of."

"Okay, no, no yeah. That's not true. I know there's no way those people at clinic were yours. How could you possibly anticipate the Doctor would even say your last name? Unless you were paying her. But you know what, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Because how would you even know that I'd even recognize your name in the first place? Yeah, honestly that whole scenario would be ludicrous. It'd be retarded."

"Is my nephew still alive?"

I could only stare him down with vitriol at that retort, his face still stoic despite the accusation. Staring at me like I was a lunatic. "Of course he is. Why the hell would he not?"

And if he had felt any relief at all upon hearing those words, I hadn't seen it. "So then...what exactly did you hope to gain by calling me here Alexei-"

"Stop it!"

I refused to acknowledge it. I had only heard it once before. And my brain had folded in on itself and refused to acknowledge it at that time either. It wasn't true. There's no way in hell any of it made sense. They were just trying to manipulate me.

"...that's not my name."

The man across from the table just gazed at me, sitting still, waiting. Just...waiting. But waiting for what? Was he...he was toying with me. I already knew that. I tightened my grip around my Predator, as I realized both my hands had been shaking up until that point.

"The club. That's the only way you'd know that name. Y'allve been watching me up until that point and, yeah, now you bastards think you can trick me through it." I sneered as his face remained stoic despite my claim. "But unlike you, I actually have dirt...how long has Cerberus been watching me?"

The name had done nothing. His face remained as implacable as ever. And I waited a while longer for a response that never came.

"Answer the question or-"

"Please forgive me, but it seems that I have mistook you for someone I once knew. If you would, may I have your name? I am at a disadvantage as it appears you already know my own."

The hell.

"...Shield. Marauder Shield."

"Is that your given name?" I only narrowed my eyes, not entirely sure what he was up to wit that question. "Or one you gave yourself?"

"It doesn't-"

Then I felt a pair of eyes besides his own, and my hairs stood on end. I quickly jerked my head around and hissed, "-who else is here with you?!"

Someone else was watching me, and my eyes sharply flitted around the neighboring tables now, suddenly aware of how stupidly I had been acting. Somebody else could have come in, one sent to keep an eye on Petrovsky. Shit, would that make sense with how important he was. Oh shit, and how many suits could be assigned to him? Of course there'd be more than one. Or am I paranoid? Was it just that a regular club goer had finally noticed me in the time I had been sitting here, brazenly brandishing my gun?! Fuck! I've been an idiot-

"Could it be that you do not remember your given name?"

My eyes returned to the man who had just blatantly ignored my question.

"Hey, I'm the one asking the questions here."

"Are you not curious as to why you are lacking memories at all?"

My blood ran cold when he said that.

"Stop it. I'm not lacking-"

"You must have recovered some faint aspect of your mind to at least recall my name. Why not come back with me to my home. It will be safer to talk there-"

"Don't move," my mouth growled as he made to get up. "And stop treating me like a fucking child. Don't think that you're actually getting to me. I mean...how stupid do you think I am?" Pretty stupid with how I've handled this so far. "You know we've never met before so don't-"

"Then how did you recall my name when you met my nephew?"

"Oh bitch please. Because-"

I stopped when I realized I couldn't give anyone the real answer to that. I had to swallow my words and ended up just glaring silently at him again. Damn bastard.

"Alexei." He motioned with his hand to get up with him. "I can help you. Even if you can only remember a name right now...that at least shows proof that we can recover more of what you lost."

Don't buy into him. You're smarter than this.

"We're staying right here," I hissed, eyeing the table closest to us, who's occupants were still obliviously chatting away. The man across from me assented, resuming his previous posture. "But let me put everything out in the open. You're Oleg Petrovsky. A general of the Systems Alliance. And you, are currently in my custody...as my prisoner. Since I can see that you're still wearing your Alliance dress blues...I know you haven't publicly defected to Cerberus yet. Obviously. But-"

"That's a bold accusation."

"That's the truth."

"If it was...then what would you do with that information? What would such a thing get you?"

"Doesn't matter. All you need to know is-"

"Do you have evidence?"

Fuck.

"Enough to incriminate you."

"Then what need did you have to meet with me here? Why not simply send it all to the Department of Internal Affairs?"

Why did this always happen?

"...because Cerberus has moles everywhere. I rather you admit to it in person with the files at hand then have it buried-"

"You have the evidence with you now?"

"...don't be stupid. It's all in a safe location-"

"Then will you retrieve them on the way? Or will you submit the evidence for my treason after marching me to the nearest Alliance depot at gunpoint in broad daylight?"

"..."

"If you are done, let me deliver my own bold claim." The man leaned forward, continuing as if he had no fear of what I could do at any given moment. "If what you say is true, we are meeting now because you simply overheard my name in passing and tricked my relative into setting up a meeting betwixt us. However, you had no clear goal in doing so, nor can you explain even to yourself why you had, which would lend credence to why you spouted nonsensical delusions borne of paranoia instead of demands upon first approaching me. It would also explain why you were content to meet me in such a public venue despite planning to subdue me via such a...conspicuous means."

"...you know, you sure talk a lot-"

"And despite you asserting we have never met, I claim that we have. Only one of us of course can be correct. It is possible that I have mistaken you for someone else, and that you truly do only recognize my name from investigating my person. However, if you would humor me, presume that the former assumption is false. Then, according to the latter scenario, we have met, and therefore exchanged names. This would explain why you know of mine. Of course, the name I vividly recall and the name you currently possess are at odds. And since you are the one to claim we have never crossed paths, and we have ruled that false, it would deem sensible that you are the one who has lost their memory of our previous encounter. However, if you are confident that there are no gaps or missing entries within your recollections, then I will relent."

"You think you talk a big game... but you know...that latter scenario is only true if you aren't lying."

"I am not."

"Oh. Okay then. Let me just take your word for it-"

"I understand why you're incredulous Alexei. But how else would I know-"

"First of all, shut up. Second, the name's Shield, as previously established. And thirdly...it's my turn to talk now. Look at me. I'm the captor here. And I have to say, what exactly do you seek to gain out of all this Petrovsky? Let's analyze the scenario, shall we? I got you by the cojones in every which way. At this very moment, you can't so much as fart without my say so. I'm the one in control here, so I'm the only one who has anything to lose at this exact moment. If I give you even a modicum of leeway, I'll be the one who'll be in a lesser position than the moment before. So, if you think I'll listen to a damn word you say, ohoho, buddy, you're sadly mistaken."

"And what do you have to lose just by listening to what I have to say...Shield was it?"

"What did I literally just say-"

"What was said were empty words. I haven't failed to notice you already put away your gun, likely in fear that someone at a neighboring table will see us. This tells me you had no intention of actually using it from the beginning. Which further inclines me to believe there is nothing stopping me from simply getting up and leaving this room."

...was my action that overt? When had he noticed?

"Except I know that you're affiliated with a known terrorist organization and if you-"

"Shield."

I couldn't help but reflexively pause as he uttered the name. The man's voice was just that commanding. A voice of authority that had grown accustomed to commanding legions. That was the caliber of man I had just pitted myself against now.

"...what?"

"I'm curious...what exactly did you hope to gain from this encounter? I still have yet to hear a concrete reason for why you called me here."

"I just said...alright." It was at that exact moment it hit me. "You want a reason? Ok. You know what?" Where exactly I could go from here. What I had been waiting for all along. "Yeah okay. I have a reason." One that would ultimately change the course of this galaxy. With his influence and my...know-how, no one would stand a chance. This was it. "Here's the reason. I want a meeting with the Illusive Man. Set it up."

Because yeah...this would change things. If that happened, I could-

My attention snapped back to Petrovsky as he just laughed in my face. "I am afraid that is outside my station."

And I think it was at this point that I finally lost all control of the scenario.

When I gave up.

"Really? Because I call bullshit. I don't believe that for a second Petrovsky! All you need to friggin' do is just pull up that secret Cerberus hotline, yeah, right there on your omni-tool, and give him a little call-"

"I cannot because such a man does not exist. Nor do I have any association with the organization you mentioned."

"Jesus, are you fu-ok." And that was it. I decided to throw up my hands at this point, affirming his previous observation, as it was clear that I was getting nowhere with him. It was hard to reach a destination when you don't even know where it fucking is. "Yeah. Okay...I give up. You win. You were right all along. I don't have any evidence of your involvement with Cerberus. Though you damn well know you are. And I didn't have a plan for calling you here either. And yeah, until this year, I don't have a single memory of what happened to this sack of meat. I just...I'm done. I try and I try, but you know what? This place has just drained me of whatever...any ounce of motivation I have left. The Illusive Man doesn't exist? You annoying, greasy...no, yeah, no, it's got nothing to do with you. I'm just a pathetic failure. Not a single thing's gone my way since I woke up on Eden Prime this year and I just... it makes sense this wouldn't either. I can't even get someone to affirm the existence of their own boss. So...yeah...I...I give up."

Despite the monologue, the man continued on, ignoring every caveat of my tirade save for one. "If you cannot recall anything...why are you so adamant in the fact that I am affiliated with a group as...maladjusted as Cerberus?"

And now I was frustrated in addition to defeated. He had beaten me, had me admit it, yet still, still he wanted to break me down even more. Man fuck this guy.

"Look I'd just be wasting breath if I did. If you have a crack team of operatives somewhere in here, just call them in so we can get this over with. A clean shot to the head would be fairly preferable at this point because-"

"Would you say you have memories that are not your own...Shield was it? Memories you'd categorize as out of place? Some that might feel like they were from another life?"

"I really don't care anymore Petrovsky just-"

My head picked back up from where it lay on the table.

"...what are you talking bout."

"Hmph. I see I have your interest now. Then are you finally willing to listen to what I have to say? You need not believe it. I just merely ask that you listen."

"Why are you so intent on having me admit I lost my memory? You...you actually do know something, don't you?"

No he doesn't.

"It may not be what you want to hear, but I believe it may shed some light on your current predicament. Whether it helps you find what exactly you're looking for...is up to you."

Don't listen to him. How many times do you have to hammer it into your head? Why the hell would you trust anything coming out of the mouth of someone from Cerberus?

"I...okay. Look. I'm sorry for acting like a jack ass." Because I never thought I would ever learn. How could anyone possibly address what would sound like the ravings of a mad man? That you're from a different dimension where this entire galaxy is just a fictional viedo game? That you just popped into existence, out of the blue, exactly where you needed to with no explanation for it? "I don't know what I'm doing anymore Petrovsky." I never even attempted to with how hopeless finding an answer would be. But this...maybe this entire train wreck was a godsend after all...was it?

You know he's lying to you. A second from now and you'll regret this. Why don't you understand that? Why are you doing this to yourself?

"...I don't even know what I'm fucking doing here. I...I need help. Hehe...anyone's help. I just...tell me...do you know who the hell I am?"

And after hearing those words...the beginnings of a smirk began to creep across the man's face. His cold grey eyes warmed as they peered into mine, and then, the man let out a low-pitched chuckle, turning away from the table.

"Uh...really enjoy groveling huh?"

"No. Not at all." His gaze eventually returned to the company present, IE me, after his laughter finally waned. "I had hoped otherwise but...hah, yes. Them the man I knew is truly dead. In all the years I knew him...that man never once asked for help. Would sooner die than admit he needed it."

"Sounds like a better man then me-"

"Not at all. Everyone needs help once in their lives...Shield."

"...so this man you're talking about...you said his name was Alexei?"

So had the leader of the 10th Street Reds.

"Correct. His name was Alexei. Alexei Leonov."

"Okay. Alright. Okay. So...give it to me. What exactly is there to know about 'Alexei Leonov'? Who was I-sorry...he?"

Enjoy this fantasy while it lasts.

The officer sitting across from me now straightened in his chair, fixing his eyes upon my own. "...are you familiar with what a 'graybox' is Shield?"

"Maybe." If he meant that thing from Kasumi's loyalty mission... "It...it wouldn't happen to be something used to store memories in, would it?"

"Hm. It seems that you are." The bearded Russian now placed his hands atop the table, locking them together in a quite overdrawn fashion. "It's a device originally created as a memory aid. Used to help an individual store large collections of memories inside the mind. Ones so paramount that they could not under any circumstance be lost, ones that an individual may also not normally be able to keep."

"Wait. Oh shit. No way."

"I imagine you see where this is heading."

"...you're saying my memories are artificial. That I have a machine lodged somewhere in my fuckin SKULL that's making me think I'm another person haha? That-"

"You are another person." His cold, grey eyes peered sternly into my own, causing me to quiet. "The trial that took place failed in the end. As I said before...Alexei Leonov is dead. Whatever memories you hold, whatever feelings you have, whatever thoughts cross your mind at this very moment...are those of an entirely different being."

"Why-what...then why the hell would you do that? If it destroyed his mind, why the hell did you think shoving a computer into someone's brain was a good idea in the first place?"

"For the benefits I already stated."

"So you erased a guy from existence because why? Just so he could remember what he had for lunch on Tuesday?"

"I suppose if it helps you come to further understand your predicament in some capacity..." The man craned his head closer to the table as he spoke next. "I surmise originally, the project begun as a fairly straight forward concept to improve our intelligence gathering. Grant agents in espionage implants that birthed eidetic memories. Recall anything they had ever heard or seen, be able to access the information whenever they so please. From what I gather however, the research obtained from the preliminary data resulted in the plan's abandonment, and instead, in the birth of something else. Project Backdoor."

"...and Project Backdoor was...?"

"A program started as a means to feasibly create assets unaware of their own allegiance until activated."

"Oh. Okay. Great. So I'm in a cold war spy novel-"

"Psychological conditioning, drugs, torture. Methods unreliable over long durations of time, and their efficacy often portrayed as successful only in works of fiction. From the sources I gathered, Project Backdoor's goal was to combine the theoretical workings of a quantum blue box with the storage capabilities of a gray box to lay the groundworks for a 'virtual individual'. And through that, a means to implant a foreign personality within whoever was deemed fit. Undetectable by conventional standards. A professional saboteur or veritable assassin that could be awakened ready at the simple flip of a switch in a seemingly otherwise model citizen."

"All I'm hearing are classic Cerberus shenanigans. Dangerous pseudo-science at the cost of humanity's soul, playing fast and loose with ethics, damn who's killed in the process, etcetera etc. So, what, Alexei signed up, thinking he was just getting an improved memory and instead, was tricked into-"

"You are mistaken on both fronts. No, this project was entirely funded by the Alliance. And Alexei was completely aware of Project Backdoor's intended goal from the outset, and all the consequences that accompanied its failure."

"Aaaand why would he sign up for something like that? Even if it succeeded...wouldn't the guy have lost his identity regardless?"

"...that is something I'm afraid only he could tell you. He only mentioned the project in passing, but...what I've heard from you thus far, he was in a state fairly similar to your own. It's almost enough to make me suspect a shadow of his persona still lingers on."

"...what do you mean."

"I mean he had given up. When he agreed to join the project, Alexei was a broken man who had no care for what happened to him or anything around him. His failures haunted him, to a point where he couldn't even stand on his own two legs without breaking down. And when I last spoke with him, he was resigned to whatever fate awaited him on Sanctum. No, I'm mistaken...he desired no fate at all. He cared for nothing."

"...and that's similar to me...how?"

"You need not be coy with me Shield. Were you not now just going on about how I 'beat you' not seconds ago? That you gave up your charade because you no longer had the will to keep it up? That you gave in due to the accumulation of your many other previously mentioned 'failures'?"

"Hmph. So...you're telling me not even that part of me is original huh? Heh...wait. So what, I'm supposed to believe I'm just a...freak accident? You're saying they wanted to make an artificial intelligence...only with the memories - false memories...of a fake person? And that's me right now? I'm a robot."

He only scoffed as I spoke. "As I said...the Project was a failure. Every implantation erased the memories of the original host. Alexei was no exception. And in the end, each implemented device failed to function in the desired outcome at all. All subjects were left derived of thought. What you are currently is interesting. The remnant of a man who has lost all memory, all personality-"

"So... I'm just the husk of a man is what you're still saying. I shouldn't exist."

I already knew that.

"Cogito ergo sum Shield. 'I think, therefore, I am.'"

"Welp...that just raises even more questions. When exactly did this 'Project Backdoor' take place? And what did they do with Alexei's body after everything went down the drain? Why do I even exist if it all failed then?"

"Yes, my story would still leave large holes in your history by your own account. Project Backdoor ended in 2178 CE, leaving a gap of five years for you to account for. And it was to my knowledge, the subjects of the Project were given proper rites and interred."

"...well." I had to scratch my head at that. "Great. So...heh. Okay...you're saying this body crawled out of its coffin in the ground, hitched a ride all the way to Eden Prime, and I suddenly just popped into existence out of the blue upon arrival?"

"...yes, it's quite the compelling mystery. Though what you proposed just now is certainly intriguing."

"So what you're saying is...that you have no idea. Great. And...so...what? What do you suppose I do with that information general? ...what exactly am I supposed to do next? Even if I'm not crazy, and I'm not just imagining this all up...you all up, this all up-" I gestured wildly around me, admittedly at my wit's end. I was just tired of it all this point. I really had no clue. "-where do I go from here Petrov? Cause I got no credits. Spent it all on poor life choices. AND I burned every bridge I've crossed. I've got nowhere left to really go. Really, how does this any of this help my 'predicament'? I guess what I'm currently saying is...yeah...I think both of us wasted our time here. But while you're handing me freebies, why you don't you hand me some more advice. What do you think my next move should be? Honestly. What should I do with the corpse of your acquaintance?"

The man just coyly smiled and turned to face the window to his left. "It seems that you'll loathe to hear it but Alexei once asked me something fairly similar." He's right. I did loathe to hear that. I was apparently just the ghost of a whiner who got himself erased from existence. And I didn't fail to see notice the ironic parallels that came with that remark either. "I'll tell you what I told him. A famous Earth philosopher once said that 'Man is nothing else than what he makes of himself. Man is solely responsible for what he is.' Do you know what he meant by that Shield?"

"Uh, did he mean that...you're responsible for the shit you spin? That if you're a piece of shit...it's all your fault and you should give up while you're behind and everyone hates you?"

"Ahem. No."

"Damn."

"The notion was that in a lifetime, each person must make countless choices. These choices, whilst perhaps indicative of past experiences, are ultimately that person's choice and only that person's choice to make. When a person is faced with two suggested options, even if one option is being forced upon him by pain of death, it remains his choice and his choice alone in the end."

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said."

I decided to ignore the pointed look shot my way in response.

"Listen well Shield. What it all comes down to is choice. The paths you've chosen to walk...the distance you've walked since that decision...they are the entire sum of your journey thus far. Time does not allow us to march backwards. It is indifferent and callous to our cries and complaints. But those paths you chose don't necessarily determine where you'll eventually be led. Where you'll eventually find yourself next. You decide each and every moment that passes where you actually stand in the grand scheme, and what path you'll choose in the very next. You can wallow in the mistakes you've made and give in to despair. The path Alexei succumbed to in the end. Or you can fully acknowledge them, learn from them, consider them naught but a small detour from where you want your course to eventually arrive. For in the end...it's never too late to be the person you want to be. You choose the life you want. You choose the person you wish to be."

"...why haven't you already left Petrovsky? ...why are you humoring me?"

"Because Shield...it's something that I wished I could have repeated to Alexei all those years ago. He never sought my help later in his life...in his time of need. And by the time I realized my mistake..." His face grew grim. "But we all make mistakes Shield. I hope that my words at least reach you in some small way that they never did Alexei."

...you choose the person you want to be huh?

"Well...then by that logic, you shouldn't hold yourself responsible for his decision in the end either. The choices people make are theirs alone right?"

The man gave a small smile in return. "Hmph. Quite." But there was an unmistakable hint of sadness in it as well. "Yes, in the end, our choices truly are ours alone."

"...do you really not think this odd at all? The chances of this encounter even happening in the first place?"

After a short laugh, the man began thoughtfully stroking his beard. "Maybe it isn't. Maybe this really is all in your mind...Shield."

"...not what I wanted to hear. I'm going to choose to ignore that."

"Hah, yes Shield, go ahead and 'choose'. For when an Alliance officer takes upon himself the responsibility for an attack, sending a number of men to their death, he chooses to do it and he alone chooses." Petrovsky once again took to looking out the window now. "No doubt the orders come from a higher command, but its orders, which are more general, require interpretation by him and upon that interpretation, there depends the life of ten, a hundred or even a thousand others. In making that decision, he cannot but feel a certain anguish."

...wait what?

"-despite the scale, all men certainly know that anguish from the choices they make." Then he suddenly found his gusto, from god knows where, gaining great fervor in his speech. "But it does not prevent their acting however! For on the contrary Shield, it is the very CONDITION of their action tha-"

"O.M.G! It totally is you isn't it?!"

The perky voice snapped him out of it while having us both simultaneously turn toward the red-headed waitress we had failed to notice walk over to our table. One could only hope that she hadn't overheard anything important. "I saw you from the bar and I was like, oh my gosh, no way! Long time no see! I mean, we haven't seen each other since karaoke night right?! Oh my gosh, people still talk about that. Especially with all the news out about Commander Shepard right now-"

But judging by her disposition, I probably had nothing to worry about. Probably.

"Ah...Rita, right?" I decided to counter.

"Woah, you...you actually remembered! Wow! I'm flattered. It was so long ago I was afraid you'd be like, 'who's this weird chick talking to me' ha ha. Your name was Maro Shield right?"

"Close enough ha ha. Ha."

"Oh, it's not? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- oh my gosh. I almost forgot why I walking over here. I just wanted to ask you if you've been on the extranet lately. How someone actually recorded your performance during karoake night and linked it to our homepage online? With all of our other last performances? And since it's been up, it's like, taken on a life of its own?"

"Uh...no."

"It was like trending on all the Systems Alliance affiliated servers and Commander Shepard fan sites. An Alliance reporter even came in to interview Doran about it! The whole thing's just been amazeballs."

"Oh. Wow. Cool. Haha. So, who did that. Who submitted that video? Who submitted that video in particular? So I can...thank them. Haha."

"Right?!" she exploded, practically ecstatic. "I think the user who submitted it to our site was like SironaGal212 or something but-"

"What the- oh. Yeah. I know who that is. Oh yeah, definitely. Yes sirree. I'll be sure to really thank her for all that...publicity the next time I see her." And by thank her, I mean I'll kill her.

The general cleared his voice across from me. "You wouldn't happen to be discussing the song that goes, ahem, 'You may fight like a Krogan. Or you may run like a leopard. But you will never be better than Commander Shepard'?"

"We totally areeee! And that was an amazing spoken word rendition by the by."

"Thank you." The man then turned back to me. "And...that was you? I would have never presumed..." The gaze he gave was one of sad pity.

She's so dead the next time I see her. I had been a joke up on that stage. She had shown me the video herself the following day hadn't she? And I was straight awful. I mean it was hilarious to watch. But awful. It was hilariously awful.

"So, uh," the waitress started again. "...how have you-"

"Hey, sorry, I don't mean to be a jerk but-"

The red-headed waitress immediately held up her hands, getting the memo. She seemed a bit hurt but...I still had more questions for Petrovsky. Even if everything he had said had been bullshit...anything at all was better than what I currently had.

Nothing.

"Oh, oh yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your business here or anything like that. I just wanted to come over and say hey real quick and maybe-"

BANG.

The loud sound that suddenly echoed throughout the club however cut her off. She turned her head toward the bar where the sound had come from, probably in an attempt to cast a sharp glare at whatever the Volus Doran probably just blew up behind it. But to her surprise, as well as my own, the bar had become completely obscured by a wall of smoke that now began to envelop the rest of the room. I noticed two similar clouds were erupting from the entrance and dance floor oddly enough.

Screams soon reverberated throughout the club, with the sounds of broken glass and harsh, deafening sounds of gunfire accompanying them, all in concert with the masked men clad in black currently coming in through the building's windows. And as our table in particular was upended in the chaos, thick noxious fumes swirling around me, obscuring my vision...that all lent me the last clues I needed to figure out what was going on. I couldn't help but feel a tiny bit betrayed. Though I knew this had been coming from the start...it still kind of hurt after our last exchange. Thought he had actually meant well after everything that was said.

But it's not like anything he had even said even made sense. Even if a drop of what Petrovsky said might be true, might account for the original case of this body's owner missing, it's not like a fictional 'memory chip' even came close to explaining MY own circumstances. I mean, there might be an 'invasion of the bodysnatchers' scenario going on here. That might explain why I didn't look like my old self. Sure.

But there was no way I was just a collection of ones and zeroes. Not with the things I know. Not when I know this entire place is fiction to begin with. I mean, he even denied being part of Cerberus. I KNEW the bastard was lying to my face from the start. Though I suppose he could have been telling the truth. He might have not actually joined it yet. It's not like I know anything about him pre-2186. So okay, maybe-

The violent shattering of the glass window to my left, throwing me clear off my seat as two black boots connected with my body, quickly reminded me of my current scenario. The masked man particularly responsible for kicking me off said chair was now in the process of shouting somewhere, standing still over my prone body currently covered in glass. He soon discovered however I was very much still conscious despite his violent entrance. Which he learned specifically upon getting a good kick to the stomach, one so on point that I accidentally ended up sending him back out the window he had originally come in.

Unfortunately, as I tried scrambling to my feet after, I in turn had failed to notice that the party crasher was still tethered by a rope to the floor above this one. I soon found myself smacked across the face with the butt of his rifle as he swung back in, sending me crashing to the floor. And as if the blinding fog wasn't bad enough, my vision was further dazed from the blow, making it especially hard to see where I was going, barely able to even see the hand inches in front of my face as I tried to put some distance-

The masked marauder violently hoisted me up by my collar now, yelling something into his earpiece over the racket around us. Cries of terror and screams of panic abundant, I couldn't make out a single word. He then freed one hand and sent a fist into my jaw, attempting to finish the job I suppose. Didn't quite help in getting a bearing on my situation. But I got enough. This mistake of his would be costlier than his last. My hands that were left alone, still dangling free, dug into my pants, and upon retrieving my weapon, immediately fired two shots into the guy. He stumbled backwards like a drunk, and let go of my shirt while doing so, causing me to ultimately copy him, collapsing to the floor. As I hit the ground again, mouth a bit bloodier, I found that the smoke was now so thick that I couldn't even see what had happened to the guy I had just plugged. In fact, the gas was so thick it was burning my eyes.

Holy SHIT did they burn. The bass of the club was noticeably absent too as the only sounds being made in the club were screams in light of the terrorist attack. In fact, I tried not to scream myself as a face suddenly fell flat in front of me, not inches away from my nose. One I recognized belonging to one Rita the waitress.

She was definitely alive though from the way air was escaping her lips. Just unconscious. Nose a little bloody though. I'm sure she'd be fine. Didn't have much time to affirm that though as another black-clad person knelt down, apparently intent on checking how bad they had busted up her face. A quick look up caused them to realize they had more pressing matters to attend to.

And as I lifted my trusty Predator at them and uttered the magic words-

Adrenaline Rush.

...I found that nothing happened. Not an ounce of rush. Not a smidgen of adrenaline. I just got a whole lot fat of nothing. Just like at the club back in Manash district. But I couldn't dwell on it. Time waited for no man like Petrovsky had just said. The lying snake.

Not when they didn't have adrenaline rush anyway.

And so in the end, I didn't even have time to fire my gun. The next thing I knew, this new masked attacker was already on top of me, attempting to wrest my pistol out of my hand. We rolled over thrice before I ended up on top, simultaneously wrenching one of my hands free and smashing the butt of my gun into their mask.

And as I shoved off them, quickly stumbling forward, dramatically yelling Petrovsky's name into the dark, blinding smog around me-

I felt something collide with the back of my skull and all control over my body left me. As I collapsed to the ground, jaw smacking hard against the ceramic floor, surely knocking a few molars loose, I couldn't help but think...damn.

I really...need...to wear...a helmetBLEH.

I blinked once as a semi-familiar, oily darkness came into being around me, one borne from a loss of consciousness, eventually enveloping me entirely. As unsettling as always. A slow flickering light from behind me however gave me my cue. Swiveling around to see what the skill board had in store for me this time around, I-

Skill Rank (FAILURE - FAILURE)

Pistol - FAILURE

Shotgun - FAILURE

Assault Rifles - FAILURE

Sniper Rifles - FAILURE

Adrenaline Rush - FAILURE

First Aid - FAILURE

Electronics - FAILURE

Decryption - FAILURE

Fitness - FAILURE

Combat Mastery - FAILURE

Persuasion - FAILURE

*FAILURE*

Available Points: FAILURE

"Oh what the fuck. What the hell is this?!"

The board flickered darkly, the bright sheen it always had previously noticeably absent this time around.

"You little...are you...are you abandoning me too?! What in the actual fuck board? Is this...is this why Adrenaline Rush hasn't been working recently?!"

It's dark light faded.

"You know what. No, you know what? Yeah, this just makes sense. Because if everyone else is shitting on Shield's parade, taking potshots at him while he's down, why not the magical skill board too?!"

The failure's all flashed with a crimson hue to cement that they were indeed, not a good thing. And the board continued to grow dimmer and dimmer and dimmer-

"You can kiss my fat ass Board! Like I even needed you in the first place!"

And just like that, one of the very last things I thought I could rely on disappeared.

Codex Entry:

Neural Devices

Neural implants and prostheses are a series of devices that can substitute motor, sensory or cognitive modalities that might have been damaged as a result of an injury or a disease, or even result in the improvement of already existing faculties. Omni-implants provide an example of such a device. These devices form a neural feedback loop activated using a technique called "physical mnemonics", in which the user utilizes a physical gesture to cause neurons to fire in a certain sequence, sending an electrical charge from their implant down to their external 'tool. A device on the omni-tool gathers the feedback sent and processes it, whereupon the processed signal is then transferred to the microcomputer within the omni-tool itself that results in the desired action taking effect, whether it be another wireless transaction or use of an omni-tool's mini-fabricator.

Neural implants are designed to be as small as possible in order to be to minimally invasive, particularly in areas surrounding the brain, eyes or other similar vital features in an organic. These implants typically communicate with their external counterparts wirelessly. Additionally, power is currently received through wireless power transmission through the skin. The tissue surrounding the implant is usually highly sensitive to temperature rise, meaning that power consumption must be minimal in order to prevent tissue damage.

Another example of a neural device is the notorious graybox, which is essentially a collection of snapshots of a person's memories. Launched by Synthetic Insights in 2160 CE and originally developed to help treat neurological diseases affecting memory loss, it was ultimately determined that its implant procedure had dangerous side-effects: should the graybox either need to be removed for maintenance purposes or if it developed software bugs, extensive brain damage would occur. A common issue arising with replacement of most neural devices, including ones as common as biotic implants. Neural implants and prostheses however are still warranting an incredible field of interest despite their age, with the next 'cutting edge' and 'revolutionary new' tech to be released rather often, generating much white noise and muddying the market. Universities and research clinics are still waiting however for the next significant breakthrough in neuroscience, to usher in the next big step in their development...safely integrating a 'smart' VI interface with one's own nervous system.

Author's Note:

Ooooh. Crikey mates! Freeze! Have a look here at this little 'un. It's the rare double update. And it's unedited too. Real unedited. This is one of the most feared events in the fandom of self-insert, because a double update, and in some parts of fanfiction, called 'the death of a writer's sanity', are really well-feared for good reason. They're fairly long, possess a lot of typis, and if you don't take a long break between reading it and the last chapter, you have a gewd chance of dying. These types of posts kill a writer's will to create more chapters quicker than most. Woah! Watch out! I think it just made me yawn. Naughty little post. Startin' to get me a bit nervy. Let's move along before it gets itself or someone else hurt. Crikey. What a beaut though. Truly one of the wonders of the fanfiction dot net. Makes yah excited for the appearance of the next good AU don't it? What a find! Until next time gang!

In the next chapter: It seems the shoe's on the other foot now! And it doesn't even fit.

Tune in next time to Mass Effective: A Hero Made!