A/N: Welcome back, readers! Just a friendly reminder that this fic is rated M. We've got a pretty violent chapter ahead of us, but in my headcannon the Mass Effect Universe is a pretty grim place. But, if you're up for it..ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!

.. In a moment. Just in case there is any confusion I'm just going to lay out right here who the Shepard twins are.

Captain Mark John Shepard: Colonist, War hero, Soldier, Paragon.

Commander Jennifer Jane Shepard: Colonist, Ruthless, Infiltrator, Renagon.

Their titles will change during some of the flashbacks, but I hope I make it easy enough to follow. Enough of my rambling though, time for ADVENTURE!

August 23rd, 2170

Mindoir

Attican Traverse

The small family made its way through the ravaged settlement. Mark took point again, warily checking all corners before ushering his family forward. He adjusted his grip on the heavy carnifex frequently, its heavy weight uncomfortable. Their mother followed behind, she pressed Roy's face into her shoulder almost suffocatingly, not wanting him to see the scattered bodies that lay about the settlement. Roy didn't protest, taking all the comfort he could from his mother's warmth.

Jennifer took the rear, turning around to walk backwards every few paces to check that they weren't being pursued. With her family ahead of her, it gave her a chance to do a haunting task. As they preceded cautiously, Mark pointing the barrel of his weapon down every alley they passed, she'd throw her family furtive looks and roll over corpses they passed and examined their faces.

She grunted slightly as she rolled over the badly burned body of a man. She peered at it's face warily, but sighed her relief when she saw it's unseeing eyes. They were dark brown, not a piercing blue. She reached out and gently closed the man's eyes, it wasn't her father.

She started to stand, but immediately dropped to the ground as something buzzed by her ear. Up ahead she heard the frantic screaming of her brother.

"Get down! Get to cov-" Gunshots drowned out the rest of his order. Jennifer rolled, feeling dust pepper against her skin as projectiles hit the dirt below her. Her rolling was stop abruptly when her hip smacked against something hard. She cried out as searing pain radiated from her hip.

Mark turned as he heard his sister cry out in pain. his eyes scanned the debris behind him and caught a flash of red hair. He jumped and sunk down further behind the overturned fridge he was using as cover as a spray of bullets flew directly over his head.

He shot wildly over the fridge, making a pathetic attempt at suppressive fire. He shot until he heard a persistent beeping from his weapon. Instead of dispensing hot lead downrange, it let out a few unsatisfying clicks.

Mark pulled the weapon down and stared wide eyed at the steaming barrel. His overheated weapon sizzled slightly and assaulted his nose with the smell of burnt rubber. He blew on the weapon, desperately trying to cool it down as he heard the sound of the approaching slavers.

He could hear them advancing on his family. The sound of their boots and shouted orders made the pace of his heart quicken. He peered cautiously over the fridge and ducked back down as they fired on his position in response.

Mark slumped down next to his mother, her face ashen as she cradled Roy in her shaking arms. Roy's crying had gone hoarse as he clung to her fiercely. Mark glanced over at Roy, a sad smile on his face. He put his hand on his little brother's head, stroking his thin red hair gently.

"You be good," He whispered, planting a quick kiss on the small boy's head.

"Mark-" His mother began, her eyes widening in realization. Mark ignored her and stood from cover, depositing the cooling weapon as he stared down the bewildered Batarians only a few meters away.

"Mark!" His mother screamed, she grabbed at his arm as Mark dove away wildly behind a crate in front of him. He dove from cover to cover, a chorus of gunshots following him the entire way.

While diving behind a particularly large rock, he felt a shock wave that propelled him backwards. He fell to the ground and rolled twice, crying out at a sharp stinging sensation in his shoulder.

The Farmboy lay in the middle of the road, breathing heavily as pain radiated from his wound. He sat up, staring blankly at the blood that flowed steadily out of his shoulder.

Oh man. I've been shot. Oh shit. OH SHIT.

He snapped out of it as he heard the distinctive sound of approaching footsteps.

A large Batarian male sauntered toward him, his shotgun held low. A cruel smile was etched on his face as he approached the wounded boy. Mark peered around him and stared blankly at the other Batarians. They all had their weapons trained on him as their comrade zeroed in on him.

The slaver's cruel smile never wavered as he placed the barrel of his shotgun almost gently against Mark's sun kissed forehead. He closed his eyes tightly.

Please please please… I just hope after all this my family will be safe.

When a gunshot finally came he felt himself jump back, startled at the sudden noise. He opened his eyes just as the Batarian sagged forward, falling against him. He cried out and fell backwards, the dead Batarian's armored weight crushing him.

He struggled to get out from beneath the immense weight, feeling the sickening panic abate as he finally threw the corpse off of his lanky frame. He used his good arm to sit up, his eyes widened as he saw what had been the Batarian's undoing.

An automated turret was firing wildly on the scattering Batarian force. Mark stared open mouth at the turret as it tore into a fleeing Batarian. An Omni-tool lit up behind the turret, fingers brushed smoothly along the controls as the turret lined up another one of it's shot onto one of the Batarian bastards.

When the Batarians had scattered, Jennifer ran from behind the turret and towards him with a pronounced limp. She dropped to her knees beside him roughly, assessing his wounds and wasting no time. He stared at her open mouthed as she began tearing at his shirt. She ripped off his thick sleeve into a strip and tied it tightly above the bullet wound in Mark's upper bicep. The makeshift tourniquet began to stem some of the blood flow.

"How did you do that?" Mark said. His voice merely an astonished whisper. "Didn't they disable those turrets when they dropped down?"

Jennifer couldn't help but flash him a lopsided grin. "Vids aren't the only thing omni-tools are good for." She stood and extended her hand towards him, he reached out with his good arm and grunted as he was hauled to his feet.

The young tech expert glanced warily at body of the Batarian and tentatively pulled his shotgun out from under him. She extended it to Mark, who took it with a curt nod as she picked up the heavier assault rifle strapped to the corpse's back.

Jennifer studied it blankly for a few moments, running her hand over the chipped and scuffed frame. She looked up as she heard a scuff of boots as Mark stumbled, his eyes beginning to roll into the back of his head. She reached out to steady him.

"I'm okay," He reassured her in an unconvincingly, pain evident in his voice. He shook his head violently, trying to come back to his senses. Jennifer stared at him, worryingly but he averted her gaze.

He studied the shotgun in the same manner his twin had studied her weapon. It was badly beaten and he wasn't sure how well it would fire, but it was better than the sheers and dumb luck that they had wielded earlier.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment of solace before they were thrown inevitably back into the chaos that had taken over their home. Shots fired in the distance, accompanied with screams and the smell burning flesh. He pushed all his sensory input to the back of his mind as he focused on slowing his breathing and stealing his nerve.

Mark only emerged from this dream state when a rough shove from Jennifer pulled him to the ground. The rough shove was followed closely by a staccato of gunfire. Mark sighed as he pulled himself out of the comforting calm back into his first tastes of grim battle.

The sun had long set, leaving the colony in almost total darkness. Mark chewed at his lip nervously, fingering the safety of his shotgun. They'd taken refuge in one of the silos that surrounded the colony. They were surprised to find many of their neighbors also inhabiting the silo, hunkering down beside large bags of seeds and waiting for the danger to pass.

Mark squinted in the dim moonlight. His eyes wandered over to his family, making sure they were alright for what was probably the hundredth time since they had made it to relative safety. His mother spoke to a woman, tears running down her face as they discussed all that they had lost. He recognized the woman as Tevin's mother, but he made no move to approach her with news of her son.

She probably already knows. He thought to himself, watching the sad scene before him. You have that kind of intuition about family… Just like I know that Dad is-

He stopped that thought in its tracks, shaking his head violently. His dad could take care of himself, he was probably fine. He looked around for what was left of his small family.

Jennifer and Roy sat only a few meters away from Mark's position. His sister hugged the young boy fiercely, singing lullabies under her breath. Roy cried from time to time, but his cried were muffled Jennifer pressed his limp body against her chest and shushed him gently.

And his father, well…

No one had any news of John Shepard. Not a single person in the Silo could even pinpoint seeing him in all the chaos.

Mark returned his gaze to the barricaded door of the silo. He knew Jennifer expected the worst, and probably even his mother. But, the teenager was sure his father was alive out there, somewhere.

Suddenly Jennifer sat up straight, cocking her head to the side. Mark glanced at her, giving her a questioning gaze.

"Do you hear that?" She whispered, depositing Roy on his wobbly legs next to his mother. Mark shook his head, straining to hear.

Without another word, Jennifer ran out from behind the bags of peas and towards a small window. She pressed her face up against the glass as she looked skyward.

"The Alliance!" She cried out, turning back to Mark with her signature lopsided grin. A few quiet whispers started as more and more of the refugees in the cramped silo got up and made their way to the windows. Each one had a similar response when they saw the Alliance shuttles landing in the farming colony of Mindoir. They whooped and cheered, turning to their loved ones to embrace them. Before long, there was a full on celebration. People were cheering, dancing, and even Roy had an excited gleam in his Shepard blue eyes.

A loud banging sounded on the metal door. People crowded around the door, taking down the tools and bags of seeds that they had used to barricade the door. They all cheered loudly and joked then, their smiles taking up most of their dirt and soot covered faces.

The smiles were promptly erased when the first gunshots sounded within the silo. Mark's eyes widened as he saw the woman his mother had just been speaking with fall to the ground, blood spurting wildly out of a wound in the middle of her chest.

That's when the true chaos started. Mark fired at the door sparingly, afraid to hit the colonists, who were fleeing to every corner of their metal prison. He lined up his sights perfectly as the first Batarian stuck his head into their former sanctuary. His finger was about to squeeze the trigger and end the slaver's life as he was roughly pulled back.

He let out a pathetic yelp as he fell backwards and was dragged roughly. He looked up and saw Jennifer's frantic eyes as she pulled him along the slick metal floor. He pulled away from her then.

"What are you doing? We need to stop them!" Panic made his voice nearly an octave higher.

"We can't help them," Mark could hardly believe what he was hearing. His sister was just going to leave the people who had helped raise them die.

"We can try!" He countered as he narrowed his eyes at his sister challengingly.

"And we'll die too, there are too many!" She seemed to deflate then, understanding full well the implications of their decisions. "We can only help ourselves. Let's go."

She pulled on his good arm again. Damn her, he thought. And damn me for doing this.

He followed her reluctantly as she led him towards a small window. Mark jumped as the sounds of glass shattering rang out in the silo. His had sister had broken the glass with the butt of her stolen pistol. She used the pistol to clear out the remaining glass in one smooth motion.

Without looking back she hauled herself up and out the small window. Mark watched her and heard a muted thud as her body made contact with the other side. He took that as his cue to follow. He cast a forlorn glance over his shoulder and he climbed up, grunting as he hauled himself up using his bad shoulder. He dropped down gingerly, and then he was on the other side.

He was greeted again by the familiar smell of smoke, but the scene had almost entirely changed. Twenty or so meters away two blue shuttles hovered a few feet from the ground, swaying slightly as it dispensed a small unit of marines into the ravaged colony. Their armor clanked noisily as they made their way to cover, firing shots at Batarians Mark couldn't see from where they were standing.

Jennifer made her way towards them, her limp causing her to run in an odd, staggering gait. Mark came up behind her and put his good arm around her shoulder for support. They leaned on each other, taking much needed reassurance from their twin. As they neared the shuttle, one of the marines turned to their direction as if startled.

"Civilians!" The stocky soldier yelled, pointing at the injured siblings. A few other marines peeled their eyes off the Batarians to see the hobbling duo. A few orders were shouted and suddenly marines surrounded them, corralling them towards the shuttle. Mark succumbed willingly as they almost dragged him towards the military vehicle. Jennifer cursed them, pushing them off of her.

"Where were you when we needed you?" She yelled. "So many people are dead! Where were you!?"

Mark glanced over at the faces of the marines. He expected to see anger their eyes, but there was only grim understanding. She was looking for someone to blame, but the only ones to blame were the Batarian's themselves.

They hauled the twins onto the shuttle, having to lift them up bodily in their weakened state. A few other wounded Mindoir colonist were huddled in the corner of the swaying shuttle, shaking from their ordeal. They looked up at Mark but avoided his gaze, pretending to find something interesting on the barren metal floor. He heard Jennifer let out a strangled gasp.

She turned to him, her blue eyes wrought with pain.

"Mom…" She whispered. Mark felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He struggled to breathe as the realization dawned on him. They had left their mother and brother in the silo. In all the chaos surrounding the initial contact, they had forgotten what was most dear to them. Mark felt like he was going to vomit.

Before he had time to fully process this, the marines he had seen fighting outside the shuttle began to board again, roughly pushing him as they scrambled inside.

"What's going on?" He asked the oldest looking of the marines.

"We have to get the hell outta here! There are too many of those four eyed freaks!" He exclaimed. He pushed passed Mark and made his way to the shuttle pilot, relaying the same orders to her.

"But, you can't!"

The middle aged man turned around questioningly then, eying the young girl who had spoken.

"Our family is out there! They will die or...or worse." Jennifer continued, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she choked back a sob.

"Listen, kiddo," The marine walked up to her then and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, looking up at him defiantly. She swallowed hard as he met her gaze. The Officer sighed and continued.

"We're fighting ten to one out here. Now y'all knew you wouldn't have the Alliance to protect you out here. You're lucky we're even here at all now-"

His excuses were cut short as Mark's fist connected with his skull. The marine staggered a back a bit, not expecting the blow. The last of the marines were piling into the shuttle as the Alliance Marine stared down the farmboy.

"You've lost a lot of blood son, you should sit down." He said dangerously. Mark responded with a defiant gaze of his own, relaying all that he felt towards the officer in that moment. The staring contest ended when Mark heeded his advice, slumping down against the walls of the shuttle, his face ashen and dripping sweat. Jennifer stared out the open door of the shuttle, seemingly in a daze.

"For what it's worth... I'm sorry." The Commanding officer walked away from them then, taking his seat next to the shuttle pilot who had been watching the scene with a clenched jaw.

"Hey," A young, female voice roused Jennifer from her daze. She turned to the grunt with a blank expression. The woman's kind green eyes looked down into Jennifer's cold blue ones. She couldn't have been much older than Jennifer; her skin was vibrant even under the dust and sweat. The Corporal insignia on her hardsuit was also telling.

"I'm sorry.. about your family." The young Corporal began as she held a sniper rifle loosely in her gloved hand.

"It's not-" Jennifer's words were cut short as she saw movement from the corner of her eyes. She peered out the open door of the shuttle as a familiar shape came staggering towards them.

"Mom!" She called out, nearly throwing herself out the shuttle before the marine caught her. The shuttle had begun to float upwards, already beginning it's trajectory to the Citadel. Her mother ran towards them, Roy in her arms as she screamed frantically for the shuttle.

Her screams were cut short as a sniper round made it's way through her chest. Jennifer cried out as her mother fell to the ground in a heap, most likely dead before she even hit the ground.

"Batarian shuttles are closing in on our position." A strained voice sounded from the pilot's seat.

"Get us out of here!"

The soldier that had been trying to comfort Jennifer had lifted the scope of her sniper rifle to her eye. Shots rang out and Batarians fell to the ground in perfect synch, the sniper's accuracy showing.

Roy lay in the middle of a muddy field, his dead mother at his side. He reached his chubby arm up to the shuttle, screaming and red faced. Jennifer's eyes fell on the slavers closing in on his position. They made no move to draw their weapons on the frantic toddler.

She felt her heart sink. His fate was sealed, Roy was going to spend the rest of his life as a slave. She balled her hands into fists, feeling hatred and fury for the aliens that had destroyed her family with one foul swoop.

The next moments would never be clear for Jennifer. When she came to she was holding the Marine's sniper rifle. The formerly kind marines grabbed at her roughly, snatching the weapon from her and pulling her away from the open shuttle door. As they dragged her back, she cast one final look out at her former home. Roy lay in the same spot, his face now in the dirt. He wasn't moving.

As she was thrown roughly to the floor, she cast a glance at Mark for affirmation on what she had just done. He was staring at her like she was a monster, arms protectively around himself.

She couldn't say she blamed him.

September 2nd, 2186

Vancouver

Earth

Sol System

I must be getting soft around the edges.

Jennifer frowned at herself in the mirror as she struggled to put on her Alliance blues. She froze when the act of pulling her shirt over her head resulted in a muted ripping noise.

"Shit," She breathed exasperatedly, tearing the dress blouse off and examined the large hole she'd just made near the armpit.

While she was brooding over the "extra padding" that was the cause of the tear, the door to her small quarters swooshed open. Shepard didn't even look over as she heard a muted cry of embarrassment. She was standing in the middle of the room with only a sports bra and cargo pants on, so she didn't really blame her intruder for being a bit shy.

"You could have knocked." She said over her shoulder as she leaned down and picked up a plain white T-shirt from the floor.

"Sorry, Commander. It's urgent." She quickly threw the shirt on over her head and was in the process of tucking it in when she turned around to meet the Lieutenant.

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore, James."

He brushed her off, ignoring her words completely. "We gotta go. The Defense Committee wants to see you." She huffed in response, gathering her messy red hair into a ponytail and following the junior officer out the door.

"Sounds important." He nodded tensely in response. He was out the door and around the corner in only a few seconds, Jennifer found herself jogging slightly to keep up.

"What's going on, Vega?" She ventured, anxiety making the hair on her arm stand on end. She'd never seen the base so busy. Alliance personnel were walking in all directions, jostling each other without even so much of a muffled apology. A private nearly barreled into Jennifer. Normally the event would send a man of such low rank into a stammering apology, but he didn't even give her a second look and he jogged away.

"Couldn't say, they just said they needed you. Now." Shepard nodded, wishing she hadn't even asked. His response just heightened her anxiety. She balled her fist then relaxed them, repeating this motion in an attempt to calm herself.

Calm it, Shep. You've got no idea what's going on. For all you know some hot shot Admiral just lost his puppy or something.

Speaking of Admirals…

"Anderson," She greeted warmly as he made his way over to them in the crowd. She extending her hand to her former CO, but his greeting wasn't quite as warm. He shook her hand rigidly, eyes wandering almost nervously around the gathering crowd.

"You look good, Shepard." He paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. "Maybe a little soft around the edges."

You sure know how to make a girl feel good.

He continued on, oblivious to Jennifer's distressed expression as she looking down at herself. "How're you holding up since being relieved of duty?"

"It's uh, not so hard once you get used to the hot food and soft beds."

Apparently I've been indulging in too much of both...

"What's going on, why's everyone in such a hurry?" Admiral Anderson walked at an ever brisker pace than Vega, weaving expertly through the horde on an unstoppable trajectory to the Defense Committee.

"Admiral Hackett's mobilizing the fleets." Though he kept a calm facade, Jennifer could almost feel stress irradiating from the Alliance Admiral. "I'm guessing word's made it to Alliance Command, but something big is headed our way."

Jennifer stopped in her tracks. It took the Admiral a few steps before he realized the former Commander wasn't beside him anymore. He turned around, casting her a questioning glance. Jennifer stared up at him, her gaze unwavering as she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to.

"Reapers?"

"We don't know, not for certain."

Dammit, Anderson. When did you turn into a politician?

"What else could it be?"

Anderson's gaze turned sad, but remained steady.

"If I knew that…"

Jennifer let out a frustrated growl, slamming the side of her fist against the nearest wall.

"It's the Reapers, I'm certain. And you know we're not ready for them."

"Tell that to the Defense Committee." And just like that Anderson slipped back into the crowd again, their allotted 'speculate over myths' time apparently spent.

Don't be so cynical, Shep. You know he's one of the only people that even believe you. The rest of the general public is content to assume you're insane.

By the time she caught up to the Admiral again she felt a bit out of breath. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for conversation, but there was still more that Jennifer needed to know.

"Unless we're planning to talk the Reapers to death," -probably the preferred method by some. "-the Defense Committee is a waste of time."

"They're just scared. None of them have seen what you've seen."

"Or believe what I say."

He gave her a hard glare, irritation furrowing his brow.

"We've all reviewed your reports, seen the data you've collected, but it's all just a theory to us." When Jennifer opened her mouth again, he put up his hand to shush her.

"You can't expect the entire human race to side with one person's experiences." His gaze softened then as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "But, I for one believe you. And I know you've been there in the trenches. Fighting them. You know what they're capable of."

She shook off his hand instinctively, her anger not yet quenched.

"Is that why they grounded me? Took away my ship?" It was the Admiral's turn to stop in his tracks then. He held up a scolding finger towards Shepard.

"You know that's not true." He leaned in, his voice terse as he emphasized every syllable. "The shit you've done.. Any other soldier would have been tried, court-martialed, and discharged." Shepard found herself looking away and taking a step back, unable to hold the intensity of the older man's gaze. He eased up a bit, sensing her discomfort.

"It's your knowledge of the Reapers that kept that from happening…" Jennifer looked up then, a small smile lighting up her face.

"That, and your good word."

The smile didn't seem to have any effect on Anderson. He was all business, beginning to walk again at their quickened pace.

"Yeah, I trust you Shepard. And so does the committee." He stated matter-of-factly.

At the mention of the committee again, the irritation began to bubble up once more.

"I'm just a soldier, Anderson. I'm no goddamn politician."

"I don't need you to be either, I just need you to do whatever it takes to stop the Reapers." Before Shepard could respond, they walked through sliding doors and found themselves in a waiting room. They were led past the room by a young Specialist and into the main hallway that led to the Defense Committee.

"Good luck in there, Shepard." Jennifer turned around towards the voice and took Vega's outstretched hand. He'd stuck around behind them the entire time, electing to stay silent through the ups and downs of the conversation she'd just had with Anderson.

Smart man.

His palm was sweaty, betraying his perfectly calm disposition. She gave him a reassuring nod, it was all she could do for him.

A few moments later, they found themselves in a spacious room, walking towards a C-shaped desk. At the desk the Defense Committee shifted nervously, passing data pads around and pointing even gasping at particularly startling bits of data. The news they were receiving was undoubtedly grim. On the side of the room, assistants whispered foreboding, one even weeping quietly.

"Admiral Anderson...Shepard." The man in the middle of the desk called out as he recognized the two soldier's approaching.

Well, at least there is one person on this god forsaken base that doesn't call me Commander anymore.

"Sitrep." The members of the Defense Committee looked at each other warily - partially because of the situation and partially because they were being talked down to by an officer under investigation - before the same graying man that had greeted them spoke up again.

"We were hoping.. you would tell us." His voice wavered weakly.

"The reports coming in are unlike anything we've seen." Shepard glanced at the datapad that had been shoved into her hand, but only needed to glance. Whole systems had gone dark in a matter of hours. Distress beacons were abruptly cut off and followed with eerie silence. Colonies seemed to be swallowed up and spit out again in deep space for all the traces they had left.

"Whatever this is, it's incomprehensibly powerful." The graying man said, his tone morose and devoid of hope.

Already hopeless.

Jennifer let the datapad fall to her side and turned her attention back to the committee. She felt anger boil up as she looked into their naive eyes. They wanted her to tell them that it was a false alarm, that she had really just dreamt up the Reapers in a drunken stupor and this was just a malfunction that a comms specialist should be looking into.

"You brought me here to confirm what you already know." She began. She paused, making sure she had the full attention of everyone in the room before continuing. Every set of eyes was on her, unblinking. They leaned in and waited for her to keep going.

"The Reapers are here."

"Ashley!" The Lieutenant Commander looked up as Mark padded over to her, dodging and weaving through the masses that crowded the hall. He beamed at her, putting as much warmth in his demeanor as possible. All the warmth was one sided considering the woman's gaze nearly gave him chills.

"Captain Shepard." She saluted him, her features strained.

"Still relieved of duty, technically. It's just Mark." She narrowed her eyes at him momentarily before returning her gaze to her omni-tool. She filtered through messages; each one was stamped with a beeping 'urgent'.

He stood there awkwardly, waiting for Williams to put down her Omni-tool and finally address him.

Are we just going to pretend like we don't even know each other, Ash?

Apparently so. She powered off her Omni, then immediately started to walk down the hallway.

"Ash! Wait!" She stopped, but didn't turn around. He could tell that she was bristling at the fact that he insisted on calling her by her first name, but there was something else that seemed to be eating her.

And everyone else in this building, apparently.

He continued on anyway, thankful at least she had stopped this time instead of walking on as if oblivious to his existence.

"What's going on? Why is everyone in such a hurry?"

"Something is going on right now. Something big. I don't have time to talk right now." She turned around and looked at him again, this time the stoic mask was gone. He saw intense worry in her eye as she ran her hand through her hair nervously.

Last time I saw her this nervous, the collectors had just started harvesting civilians on Horizon.

Realization dawned on him, making his stomach sink to his boots. Mark stepped closer, dropping his voice.

"Where's Jennifer?"

"She's speaking with the Defense Committee right now." She replied in a hushed voice, looking over her shoulder. "I've got to get to the Normandy."

"Wait, let me get Jennifer first. Let's see if she knows any more about what's going on." He stepped past her then, making his way to the sliding doors that separated him from the Defense Committee. Ashley watched him go, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip idly.

Just before he had made it halfway there, James Vega stepped out the doors looking unusual pale. He stammered a greeting to Shepard and Williams, giving them a halfhearted salute as he walked on. Mark paused as he watched the man pass by, concerned at the drastic change from his usual disposition. He was going to call out to the man, but then more pressing matters emerged.

In a matter of moments, Mark's entire world is engulfed in flames. He must have blacked out, one moment he had been standing in the middle of a hallway in Alliance HQ, worrying about his twin sister and a man that she affectionately referred to as her 'keeper'. The next moment he found himself face down on the cold metal floor, blood pooling around his face.

He sat up slowly as the ringing noise in his ears slowly turned into screams. The power in the facility had gone out, but as he looked up he saw that they had just renovated the place, about ten seconds ago. A jagged, charred hole made an almost cozy skylight and through it Mark saw their diligent carpenter at work.

A large, hulking insectoid towered above the tallest buildings in Vancouver, the northern tip of its frames even collided with the overcast skies. It walked careless through the city, knocking over small buildings and occasionally charging up its cannon for more precise genocide.

"Mark!" A voice called amidst the chaos. He turned towards it, feeling his head spin as he attempted to focus on the blurry form of Ashley Williams. She pulled him to his feet, having to bear most of his weight until he was fully on his wobbly legs.

"They're here?" He asked quietly, wiping the blood that was flowing freely from his broken nose. She nodded solemnly, pulling out a phalanx pistol that had been concealed beneath her clothing. He shifted his attention to his immediate surroundings. Charred bodies were strewn about the room, each being thrown a good distance from where the beam had struck. There were fewer bodies visible than had been standing in that particular area during the attack, though. Those men and women probably had the quickest, most merciful death that a Reaper would ever give them.

The path to the Defense Committee had been completely annihilated, leaving only a smoldering scar of molten metal and debris. he shivered at the pure destructive power that the reaper had just unleashed in a matter of moments. He turned his attention back to Ashley, who was also looking at the wreckage with gritted teeth.

"Are you hurt?" She shook her head.

"A few scrapes and burns. Nothing serious." She looked around for a moment, her eyes troubled. "Where's the Lieutenant?"

"James!" Mark called out, his voice echoing back to him in the empty hall.

"Here.." a weak reply came from an unassuming pile of rubble. Mark and Ashley made there way over and dropped to their knees by the pile, immediately digging into it. They threw metal and rock behind them until they recognized the form of Lieutenant James Vega, covered in dust. He coughed a few times as Ashley helped him into a sitting position.

"What..?" he trailed off, his eyes wide and confused in an almost childish way.

"Reapers." Shepard said soberly, the fog finally clearing from his head own head.

"Fuck," Mark and Ashley exchanged a worried look as Vega chuckled. "I was hoping that was all made up."

While Mark was helping Vega get dusted off and on his feet, Ashley suddenly brought her hand up to her earpiece.

"Admiral Anderson? Are you alright?"

{Lieutenant Commander Williams, is that you? What's your status?} Mark overheard from Ashley's comm.

"Yes sir. The path to you is cut off. The Normandy-"

{I can't raise the Normandy, you'll have to contact them. We'll meet you at the landing zone. Anderson out.}

"Aye aye." She turned her attention back on the two officers. Vega, while still shaky, was on his feet. He sported a large gash on his arm that bled readily, but other than that he seemed unharmed. He held his carnifex pistol at the low-ready, his eyes shining with fierceness and anger. It was a good change over the child like fear that had gripped him earlier.

"Let's move." Ashley said, slipping easily into a leadership role. Mark was content to let her, considering that his limited access in the HQ left him with no idea where to even go.

The Alliance personnel that had just been crowding the hall had scattered (or had been vaporized), leaving the trio to walk the halls in almost contemplative silence. Every few minutes the ground beneath them would vibrate violently as another Reaper found its foothold on Earth. And even more frequently the signature blaring howl of the Reapers could be heard, sending chills throughout Mark's entire body.

Eventually they made it to an open courtyard. Previously it had been used for combatives training, but now it was a more of a graveyard. Marines and husks alike lay side by side in the upturned dirt, their bodies not yet cold. Shepard felt himself grimace as they jogged past long, jagged spikes sticking up from the earth. Impaled on each one was an Alliance marine that Mark had lived among for the past six months. It was an incredibly cruel fate, but it was just a reminder that their enemy did not, and would never, show them any kind of mercy. Just as they had cleared the length of the open courtyard, a sputtering noise caused them all to turn on their heels quickly, Williams and Vega lifting their weapons while Shepard unsheathed his omni-blade. Instead of an incoming husk horde they instead found a young boy in an ill fitting hardsuit. He was alive, but he had absolutely no right to be. A large gaping hole marred his abdomen, the edges cauterized and unable to bleed. His inevitable death was coming slowly, and painfully.

He can't be any older than 18...

It's not like the Reapers are selective with their carnage.

Shepard dropped down next to him, applying medi-gel that Ashley had supplied him earlier to the boy's wounds. Just enough to numb the wound at least, enough to ease his passing.

"C-C..Cap.."

"Don't speak, Soldier. Rest now. You've earned it." The kid weakly saluted him then, straining from the effort. It sent him into a weak coughing fit, broken intermittently by pitiful gasps.

"Shepard... We don't have time." He heard Ashley call behind him regrettably. Mark glanced over at her and nodded understandingly. When his head turned back to the marine, his eyes were met with blank eyes, starring up at the sky vacantly. Mark reached down and closed the dead boy's eyes, then followed Williams and Vega to the LZ.

They had only moved a few steps before they were forced into cover.

Cannibals were waiting around the corner in an ambush. As they rounded the corner to the LZ, one let out a gaping cry alerting it's comrades. The others turned to them quickly, opening their mouths impossibly wide in what Shepard interpreted was a battle cry. He barely made it behind a toppled pillar before rounds were headed his direction. He hunkered down behind the remains, trying to make himself impossibly small. Williams knelt next to him, occasionally popping up to throw a few rounds downrange.

{Lieutenant Commander, do you read me? I'm patching in Shepard.}

{What's your status, Williams?} Jennifer's voice rang out strongly over the comm.

Thank God she's alright.

"We're almost to the Normandy. I've got Lieutenant Vega and Captain Shepard with me, but we're taking heavy fire." She replied into the comm, having to raise her voice over the gunfire. She attempted to poke her head above cover and ascertain how many hostiles were left, but she was immediately forced back down by the resulting gunfire.

"Son of a bitch," She growled in frustration.

The sound of an explosion brought Mark's eyes skyward. An Oculus was chasing down an smoking Alliance fighter that seemed to be stuck in a downwards trajectory. The orb fired again the fighter, this time it was unable to dodge the incoming fire due to the damaged it had sustained. It exploded midair, raining pieces of metal and debris onto the Alliance marines. Most of it flecked harmlessly off of Shepard's skin, but one particularly pointy piece caused him to jump back as it landed next to him, clattering nosily on the concrete.

The Batarian husks hadn't been so lucky. The bulk of the small ship landed directly onto most of the cannibal squad, crushing them. The rest of the squad was wiped out from the resulting shrapnel.

Williams and Mark stared at the wreckage in shock. Part of Mark wanted to cheer and whoop, but the other part of him knows he just watched the end of a pilot's life.

{We're about five minutes out...Husks!} Anderson voice buzzed noisily in Ashley's comm.

"Doesn't look like they're getting it any easier." She said, hoisting herself over the barrier they'd used for cover. Mark and Vega followed, the Normandy finally in sight.

They had been aboard the Normandy for all of two minutes before she had taken off. The three of them packed into the elevator, breathing heavily from the mad sprint across the LZ. Mark leaned against the wall, rubbing it gently.

It's been awhile, old girl.

When the elevator reached the CIC he wasting no time, grunting as he squeezed through the elevator doors before they had time to open all the way. He ran through the CIC, startling the skeleton crew that had been in the Normandy at the time of the attack. When he reached the bridge, he clapped Joker on the shoulder affectionately. Joker looked up startled, then smiled at the familiar form of Mark Shepard.

"Long time no see." He said casually, before returning his view to the Normandy's controls. Though Mark was no pilot, a quick glance at the interface told them there were five hostiles on their tail. Joker banked expertly, weaving between the tall buildings and even a Reaper's legs. Mark sat in the co-pilot seat, strapping himself in just as Joker banked again, this time in the opposite direction causing Mark to nearly fall out of the seat.

{Lietenant Commander Williams, we're in sight of the spaceport. ETA 3 minutes!} Anderson's voice buzzed over the Normandy's comms.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. OH SHIT." Joker's voice rang out in the cockpit.

"What is it?" Mark asked, tightening his grip on the hand rest. Before Joker could answer, Ashley's voice sounded in the comms again.

{We've made it to the Normandy, taking heavy fire... Oh God. They're going to take out that dreadnought.. Evasive maneuvers!}

An Alliance dreadnought hovered a couple hundred meters away from the Normandy. It sported smoking scars from an onslaught of Oculus drones, but now Mark saw what had made Ashley and Joker panic. A Reaper Capital Ship was charging up it's cannons... Its cannons that were aimed directly at the dreadnought. The resulting explosion would tear the Normandy to pieces at this range.

"No need to tell me twice! Hold onto your ass, Shepard!"

Mark felt himself flatten against the seat as the Normandy accelerated to top speeds possible in atmo. A few moments later, an explosion sent the Normandy into a series of rolls. They lost altitude fast, sending the Normandy in headlong into the ground. At the last possible second, they righted themselves. Only a hundred feet above the Vancouver bay, only sustaining minimal damage.

"Shields at 22%" A flat voice notified them.

"Thanks, EDI... I think I just peed myself." Joker said quietly, bringing the Normandy up to a suitable altitude. Suddenly Ashley was in the bridge, her face set in to a grim line.

"We lost contact with Anderson and Shepard." She said morosely. Though must was unsaid, it was clear she assumed the worst. The bridge descended into an eerie quiet.

"What do we do, Ma'am?" Joker pipped up as his hands slid over the Normandy's controls smoothly, still dodging and weaving Reaper air support. Ashley was silent for a moment, looking down at the floor and biting her lip.

"We need to get to the Citadel... The Captain's a Spectre, maybe the council will help Earth."

"Like hell." Mark stood, standing toe to toe with Ashley. "The fight's here."

"You should know better than anyone, Shepard. We can't do this alone. Humanity needs help."

"This coming from the woman who doesn't even consider the council races allies. The same woman who said humanity needs to stand on its own."

"That was a long time ago!"

"I'm the ranking officer on this ship and I say we aren't leaving, Lieutenant Commander."

"You're not even cleared for duty, Shepard." Mark narrowed his eyes dangerously at Ashley. Her gaze was just as unyielding, raw anger almost seeped from her pores.

"Uh, guys." Joker said timidly, turning in his chair to meet their eyes. "I found them."

A/N: Be sure to leave a review if you see something you love or didn't really love. Thanks for reading!