There, Second chapter of this story ! I know it was long, but I am really trying my best. Lots of talk here, not much action, that will come soon, I promise. Also, first look at the OC.

As much as I would like it, I do not possess any of these characters/lores. Mass Effect belongs to Bioware. Warhammer 40k Belongs to Games Workshop.

For future chapters, here's a little something I've been thinking about. After some research, It seems that Mass Effect traductors mostly work audio-to-video or video-to-video. The different races are actually speaking a common language, the "trade language". And that makes sense. I mean, how could a traductor translate an accent? And yes, I am thinking about a certain Quarian.

So, let's have this:

"Blah blah blah" = common speach, understandable by every character of the scene.

"Blah blah blah" = when a character speak in his own tongue, english/japanese/french/whatever for humans, khelish for Quarians and so on...

Blah blah blah = Thoughts

Reviews are of course much appreciated.

Commander Shepard was a giant of a man, his sheer presence dwarfing most of those he stood by. In the fray, he was a whirlwind of deadly strikes and lethal shots, his already imposing frame made even more massive when clad in his black N7 hardsuit. Teeth clenched in cold rage, his bulk moving at unsuspected speeds, few things in the galaxy were more frightening than the sight of the Commander Shepard in battle.

As an eye-witness of Shepard's martial prowess against a force of machines not seen in this side of the galaxy for the last two hundred years, Ashley Williams was quite shocked, to say the least, to see the man calmly enduring a berating from an aging woman who had to take a step back to stare him in the eyes.

"Boy, stop putting on the 'Marine act', will you?"

"I'm fine ma'am," sighed the commander. "I really am."

The doctor merely poked him in the ribs, bringing a painful wince on his face. "Well that broken rib does not agree," she said matter-of-factly. "Now sit down. You aren't getting out of here before I am done with you."

"Yes ma'am," he complied.

"And don't ma'am' me. I am not old enough for this."

"Won't dare to think so doc," he said with a smile as he sat on an operation table and start taking off his regular shirt.

The man actually smiled! The bloody Lion of Elysium, veteran of a hundred operations is able to smile!

Now that things had calmed down a bit, she was able to watch him more carefully. Shepard was tall. Like, very tall. She already knew that by the stories about him, but at the time she didn't gave too much credit to the legends. After all, most of the time he was described as a giant with lightening storming from his eyes and breathing fire balls at his victims!

Well, the legends didn't lie about his height. However, they failed to mention the way his black hair was tied in a long braid falling at shoulder height, or the fact that his scar-less visage seemed so cold and intimidating in battle, and yet warmed up when talking to those he seemed to deem worthy of his friendship.

Ashley blinked out of her thoughts and realized the man was bare chest, with the doctor already working on his ribs. She winced when she saw the wound, black dried blood making its way under skin across a large part of his torso. That looked quite… painful. Tearing her gaze from his wound, she noticed the N7 tatoo on his right arm, and an another one, a red '10' on his left arm.

She wondered about its meaning for a few seconds before being shake off her thoughts by the sound of his laugh. It was a low and warm sound, somehow reminding her of a Krogan she met once. Just before he tried to tear the head off a civilian.

This time however, it seems Shepard was just sharing a joke with the good doctor. No tearing heads off. Good.

Somehow sensing it was her chance to introduce herself, the Gunnery Chief took a step toward the commander, who had yet to acknowledge her presence, and snapped to salute.

"Gunnery Chief Williams, reporting sir." The smile disappeared from his face and the man glared at her, letting Chakwas working on his wound.

"At ease, chief." The way he just said those words did not put her at ease. Not at all!

"Glad to see you've made into one piece Williams," he said unblinking. "Next time, stay away from the weird looking alien device, will you?"

So much for a good first impression.

"Will do sir," She said, trying not to show how sorry she was. "I'm glad you made it too sir. And I have to say it is an honor to serve with you, sir."

He raised an eyebrow. "Serving with me?"

"That would be right commander." The new voice was coming from the entrance of the infirmary and in the moment he heard it, Shepard jumped to attention, nearly dropping Chakwas in the process and tearing out an indignant yelp from her.

"Captain," he saluted.

"At ease Shepard," the man said as he slowly walked to stand before him. "How are you?"

Shepard shuddered as memories from the fight flooded him. Even after all these years of brutal fighting, of savage struggles and merciless drops, nothing prepared him to fight the Geth. It was quite easy to laugh at them. You would think that machines could never best the organics in the ever changing tides of gunfire. Think that instinct and organic way of adapting to every new situation would make short work of everything theses machines could throw at you. You would be so very wrong.

Geth were relentless. Geth do not make any errors, there shots were always aimed to kill. Geth do not feel any fear and could charge without hesitation through storms of bullets thick enough to make a Krogan think twice. Geth were able to move with such perfect synchronization that even Turians commandos looked like amateurs in comparison. And finally, fighting the Geth was a technological nightmare. What chance could you have when every single enemy was trying to hack through your Hardsuit's VI to shut down you shields, overload your weapon, shut down your breather or simply lock your armor? Truth be told, without Alenko and his engineering skills, they would all lie near Jenkins at this very moment.

How did he felt? Terrorized. Wishing from the deepest part of his soul that he would never have to face such a foe again.

"I am fine sir," he answered instead, "Or I would be if the good doctor here would agree to stop prodding my broken ribs."

"I will when you finally stop moving!" She barked back, bringing another smile to the commander's face.

Anderson smiled back, even so lightly. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid the beacon did not fare so well, Shepard."

All trace of amusement fled from Shepard's face. "What happened?"

"I hoped you could answer to that question Commander. All I know is that after you pulled the Gunnery Chief out of the tractor beam," Anderson gestured at Ashley, earning her an another glare from Shepard, and who defiantly stared back, "You were held in the air and the device exploded moments after your release."

Shepard fell silent for a few seconds. Should he talk about his dream? Was that worth anything or would that just put him within the ranks of the good old soldiers that saw too much for their own sake?

He decided against. If needed be, time would come for him to talk about it.

"I can't think of anything relevant sir," he said without flinching. It was not even a lie after all. "I assume Lieutenant already gave you his report?"

"That he did Shepard," Anderson sighed. "Saren Arterius. I can't believe he would go that far."

"Could that have been another Saren?" Shepard asked.

"Doubtful. He had to know Nihlus in order to kill him so easely."

"What about the dreadnought?"

"We still have no clue. My guess would be an advanced Geth warship, but we can't be sure about that," The captain shrugged. "This is of little importance, the Council must be warned."

"We are going to the Citadel then. What's our ETA?"

"Actually, you have been knocked out for quite a long time. We are already docked on the Citadel," Anderson said while turning to take his leave. "Get dressed, we have a lot to do."

"As you order sir," Shepard said, stopping Anderson in his steps. "And thanks for Jenkins number two, here."

Ashley scowled at the man who so lightly made fun of the death of a soldiers under his command, unbelieving that this was the Hero she worshipped.

Anderson however, smiled sadly. "We recovered his body Commander," He merely said. "He will be returned to his family as soon as possible."

Without a word, Shepard nodded grimly and started dressing, a new strip of bandages around his chest.

In a place where hope was nothing but a vain word, a ship large enough to put the Destiny Ascension to shame and as black as the void was sailing through space. Its inhabitants were, by the Citadel's standard, the worse psychotic madmen ever spawned by whatever hell they came from. Barbaric, xenophobic, ruthless, fanatical, genocidal. Slayers of worlds. They were all of those.

To their people, they were heroes.

The ship was swarming with weapons. Some of them were longer than cruisers and you could fit several tanks in the barrels of others. To all of those who could see this monster, its purpose was obvious and every single angle of its plating was crying a single word. War.

In the belly of the beast, thousands of men and creatures that were no longer human were working as one to keep the vessel running so that it could keep performing its grim charge.

At the center of the ship, in a lone cell, a being was knelt before an altar. The shrine was magnificent hundreds of candles surrounding a stained glass displaying a being made of light, a sword of flames in His hand and buried to the hilt in the limp form of a winged dragon.

The man knelt before the altar of his God chanted softly, eyes closed while the prayer followed its course. He was naked, and his bare body far too large and muscular to belong to a naturally conceived being. It was his fourth hour of meditation and his mind was slowly melting back with his body when the vox alarm of his personal cabin rang. With a sigh, the man allowed his concentration to break and with a final bow toward the altar, he got up and answered the call via a device embedded into the wall of his cell.

"Speak."

The voice that answered him was mechanical, devoid of any emotion.

"Justicar Alaric, by order of High Inquisitor Malach, you are summoned to the bridge."

"Acknowledged."

The vox went silent and Alaric took a deep breath before turning around. On the other side of the room, his armor stared back at him, taller and much more massive than he was. After countless years of desperate fights, he knew his armor. She was a part of him, a part of his soul. Together, they were the Hammer. The perfect embodiment of faith and martial art. Yet, without the other, one was nothing.

Breaking from his day-dreaming, the warrior pressed a button, calling the servitors. They would prepare him and his armor for their joining, like so many times before and, Imperator Vult, many times again.

Thanks to Colonel-Mustard1990 for his help on this one, and if you haven't, go check his Mass Effect/ Warhammer crossover, it's awesomer than awesome.

Colonel Mustard1990: I second this comment. Also, check out my other stuff. *Brandishes lead pipe and gestures menacingly towards his profile*