Hey guys, sorry for not uploading last night! I was still at a convention and got home at like eleven, and I don't think you guys want to read what I write at like one AM. That would not be pretty.

Anyway, please continue reviewing and enjoy the chapter!

xoxo

THR

(PS- If you don't know the history of the USA in the Mass Effect series, I suggest reading it before reading this chapter. Some stuff went down that you might not understand. The Mass Effect Wiki sites have good articles about them!)

Chapter 15

Your name was Liz Shepard and you were absolutely mortified.

With a hand-me-down dress thrown onto your lanky frame accompanied by a pair of faux silk covered kitten heels, you waited in a bar for a man who you had met just a few hours prior. He had been a soldier, and he had turned you on like no other man had.

It was your first real date that you had ever had in your entire life. You were seventeen and were armed with nothing but a fake ID. You weren't an innocent girl at all, but the thrill of going out with someone for real made your heart pound.

Earth could be a cruel place sometimes. People were cold and heartless and you felt like nobody understood you. These emotions were called normal for people your age. That's what the shitty counselors had told you.

Your parents could care less about your feelings, though. They were always busy. If they gave you the time of day, it would be to point out your flaws and criticize you. They called themselves rich philanthropists that donated their time to helping others. In reality, they made software for omni-tools and paid more attention to needy children that lived on poor colonies more than their own daughter.

Your choice of attire for your romantic engagement didn't reflect your social class, though. You didn't want it to.

The bar around you was bustling. It was one of the few places left on Earth that reflected the architecture of an older time. Unlike the whitewashed modern appearance of your own home, this place was like a dark wooden palace. The counters and seats were composed of leather, memories and a dark cherry that must have been retrieved from the sturdiest trees at one point in time. Men crowded around the place and were being entertained by women with bosoms covered by tight dresses and bodies that had the fragrances of flowers that were long extinct. Laughs and good times were all around you, but you couldn't help but feel like this location was different than all of the other places you've snuck out to. It wasn't exactly a strip club, but it certainly wasn't a family environment either.

You had never been allowed in such places with permission. Nowadays, this kind of act of defiance was nothing for you. A fake ID wasn't out of the unusual and neither was meeting with older men. You had a penchant for military hunks and all of them were enlisted. This meant that they had to be over eighteen. Of course, that didn't stop you from faking your own age. Sometimes you told your dates that you were twenty one. Other times you felt like you could pass for twenty five. They believed you.

This time, though, you had said eighteen. You weren't sure why you had told this guy any different.

The two of you had encountered each other while out for a walk, which wasn't something many people did. Pollution was bad, and although Earth appeared to be a Utopia, its citizens knew better. It was filled with nothing but metropolises that lacked security. There was not a single stable thing about them.

In addition to the atmosphere's effluence, crime was rampant. You had to watch out for creepers and scammers even on the Upper East Side.

You lived in New York City, or at least what was left of it. Shore lines had closed in on the city, which had been situated on multiple islands. Previous generations' global warming problems had caused the tides to take the city into the ocean's clutches.

Since then, the citizens had built up.

The former areas were now nothing but tourist destinations. You could take submarines down into the oceans and see the ruins of Times Square. The former Empire State Building barely stuck out of the water.

The city you lived in now was built on pillars, mass effect fields and massive suspension bridges. Instead of being called the Big Apple, it was called The Floating City. Everything was a pathetic attempt at being made the same after the Second World War, which had been caused by rogues a long time ago. You had never bothered much with learning about the history of that war, anyway. It wasn't like you were going to be involved with any damn wars.

Each borough of the city had the same name once it was reconstructed, except with a "new" slapped in front of it.

New Manhattan.

New Times Square.

They had even constructed a new Statue of Liberty.

You hadn't lived during the time of the old city, but even you could tell that nothing was the same now.

Out of all the places you had learned about, you could only compare it to Illium. New York City was now like the Asari colony city, minus the purple theme and interesting climate.

The bar that you were standing in had been salvaged, though. Technology had allowed for its restoration, and it now stuck out like a sore thumb if one looked across the city's skyline.

Since a building like this was rare, you treasured all of the feelings and became determined to remember this day.

You would recall the scent of musk and cigarettes as you sat with your husband and kids in ten years. You could talk about how real honest men with fake smiles would sit down with their drinks and forget about their lives. You could tell them about the feeling of a kiss on the lips and what a gin tonic tasted like with cotton candy flavored gloss on your lips.

Little did you know that this would not be the case at all. Today would be a memorable day, but it would be for all of the wrong reasons.

A hand touched your shoulder, and you turned around to see him. Your breath hitched.

He was tan, tall, muscular and beautiful.

His hair, although mostly buzzed off, was still a little fuzzy. It was a dark, coffee bean brown that made you absolutely swoon. His choice of attire was just as awkward as yours; a well-worn dress shirt covered his ripped body along with a boring pair of khakis. You could tell that he had attempted to dress for the occasion but somehow fell short.

"Sorry if I don't impress you," he said, his voice sweet. "A marine's budget is pretty slim these days."

You flashed him a hint of a smile and patted the seat next to you. He sat down graciously and flagged the bartender down.

"Beer, please."

The woman behind the bar nodded at him and went to work while you gazed at the man in front of you. He was absolutely perfect and you didn't even know his name, but that was okay.

"So, what does a man like you do for fun?" you asked. If you could hear yourself right now, you would most likely gag. You sounded like a ditz and he knew it.

You could tell yourself that this man made you happy and that you were crazy about him.

You could forget that you had only known him for a grand total of twelve hours.

You could fake your way through your conversations and touch his knee as he sipped his beer.

Your name was Liz Shepard, and for a few hours that night you had turned into one of those women with gorgeous bodies. You pretended that you had smelled like an exotic flower.

When you woke up alone the next morning in a bed that wasn't your own, you realized something.

You couldn't handle being some guy's bitch.

From that moment on, you were determined to give your life a little more meaning. Maybe you could do something useful.

Your name was Joker Moreau, and it had been a long time since Shepard had punched someone so hard.

Five minutes prior to the incident, things had been fine. The three of you had been leaving the packed club to go somewhere a little quieter.

You weren't really sure what had happened. The actions playing in front of you had been blunt and rapid.

Without warning, Liz had opened fire upon a group of drunken Turians with her fists.

"The fuck did you just say, asshole?" she had bellowed. Her voice was vicious, and it was almost like she was a real commander again.

The group had been intimidated at first. They didn't move for a few moments and then they proceeded to burst out into laughter.

"Damn, is that the old Shepard?"

"Wasn't she put in an institution?"

"She's a little bitch now!"

Her knuckles had turned white under the intense lighting. The whole room had miraculously turned silent, minus the blaring music. Nobody else had been speaking except the laughing Turians, who were having a grand old time.

That was when the first punch was thrown.

Currently, the situation was flaring up even more.

Shepard's body was sandwiched in between the men. The leader was being squished by her, which gave her a great advantage.

Her hands had managed to get around his neck after delivering prime blows to his head. With the biggest amount of force that she could muster, she choked him.

Beads of sweat dribbled down her head from the close contact. You could see them clearly, which meant that you weren't far enough away from the fight.

You couldn't risk hurting yourself even more, but your friend's safety was at risk.

Before you could make another move, you heard her hiss in the Turian's face.

"Don't you ever, ever think that you can fuck with me or my boyfriend, you understand? Go back to Palaven and cause trouble, but don't do it here! I'm a motherfucking Spectre and will not hesitate to slash your throat open and watch your dead body get hauled away by the goddamn Keepers!"

Her hands tightened and the entire mass of people could see him start to go down. If somebody didn't stop her, he would be dead within a minute.

The alien behind her then did something that made the crowd gasp. Garrus, who was already nearby fighting off a few other members of his own species, turned around to look at what was going on. He had jumped in as soon as Liz had made the decision to fight. He had grabbed her at first, but he then decided that protesting her advances was a futile idea. Now, he was staring at her and her opponent in shock, causing his combatant to knock him out to the ground.

The Turian that was pushing into Shepard had drawn out a gun.

"Shepard, move—"

The last few moments played out like a slow motion dream. The individual being pinned down by Shepard fell down to the ground. You prayed that he wasn't dead. If he was, all three of you would be facing the consequences.

The gun came up to your friend's head, and you knew that she could feel the cold metal. The crowd didn't stop looking.

They knew that a crime was going on in front of them, but they didn't call for C-Sec. The great Commander Shepard had reemerged, and they weren't going to let her go out without a bang. Her prowess matched up to all of the challengers around her even without a gun of her own. It was stunning to watch her physique move in ways that they hadn't before. Each swift movement she executed was on point.

You knew that she had been dreaming for a moment like this, and you could only hope that she didn't perish with the man next to her.

Everyone held their breaths as Shepard turned around to face her impending fate. There was a loud noise that didn't quite sound like a gun, but you couldn't bear to look and see what had happened.

Your name was Joker Moreau, and you didn't even know if your own friend was dead.

Your name was Admiral Steven Hackett, and it wasn't often that you received urgent emails in the middle of the night anymore. During the war, requests for backup or Crucible updates came at every hour of the day. Now that you were getting used to a warm bed and a decent night's sleep, you didn't want it to be interrupted. It was one of the few things you took solace in nowadays, anyway.

The Citadel's nightlife was still buzzing by the time your omni-tool began to convulse. It woke you up from a pleasant dream about simpler times.

You sat up and looked through the information that the device displayed in front of you, and you then pressed a button to view the email that had been sent a few minutes prior.

It was from the Asari Councilor.

Admiral Hackett—

I regret to inform you that we are having problems regarding the Commander. It has been said that she was let out of her penthouse by former members of her crew. From the reports we've gotten from C-Sec that claims that she's killed two Turian men and isn't in the best of states. They interviewed her accomplices but they have divulged nothing. I do not want to have to request this, but the Council is holding an emergency meeting in the morning to discuss how to handle Shepard and her escape. Your attendance is required. Please meet us in the Embassies at approximately six during the next morning cycle. Your cooperation is much appreciated.

Sincerely,

Asari Councilor Irissa T'Alneto

Your name was Admiral Steven Hackett, and you sighed deeply as you looked out into the Citadel from your bedroom window. While everyone else lived a life without a care in the world, you still worried about things that you should have put behind you.

Shepard, on the other hand, wasn't someone that could be easily left behind.

Tomorrow was going to be a very, very long day.