a/n: It's been quite a while since an update on this story. Apologies for the delay as I've been working on another story as well. Truth be told I've been suffering from a fair bit of writer's block on this one so continuing forward with it has been difficult, but I'm hoping to start gaining a bit of momentum with it. Enjoy

*OMEGA ASTEROID MINING STATION*

Commander Kraven Matthew Shepard took in a lungful of putrid air through his nose, and nearly vomited his lunch onto the grime spattered street. He swore inwardly and resolved to breathing through his mouth lest he contract some devastating pathogen from the odious atmosphere. With single minded determination he pushed himself to weave further into the dingy back alleys of the mining station in his search for a particularly notorious vigilante known as Archangel. All around him the dregs of galactic society bustled about their daily business. It wasn't all that different from any other city in the galaxy except for one important distinction. Most of the station's denizens were criminals. One had to be especially careful when walking the streets of Omega.

The commotion of the city swallowed up the Commander in a relentless assault that battered against every one of his senses as he made his way onward. High energy dance mixes from nearby clubs thumped against his eardrums in tandem with the overall din of the city. The vile combination of unprocessed excrement mixed with piles of refuse and the unmistakable stench of rotting bodies wafted through the air to create a suffocating miasma. Long neglected lighting strips flickered, and sputtered in a desperate bid to maintain their laughable pools of illumination.

Overall it was safe to say that the Commander thoroughly despised Omega, and everything it represented. That distaste was only deepened as he stepped into something spongey. "Shit!" He cursed as he pulled his gore splattered boot from what possibly could have been the half decayed torso of a Vorcha.

He gritted his teeth in irritation and wondered for the hundredth time just what sort of person he was expecting to find, and if he really wanted them on his team if this pit was where they called home. He shook his foot to get as much of the putrescent muck off as he could before angrily continuing his trek further into the district. As he did he couldn't help letting his thoughts wander.

He'd sent his Cerberus jailers to pick up the Salarian professor called Mordin Solus to give himself some alone time to gather his thoughts. Miranda had been adamantly opposed to his command of course, but since the Illusive Man had given him operational control he'd easily brushed aside her objections. He was already too invested in wanting to stop the Collectors after seeing Freedom's Progress so trying to escape back to the Alliance wasn't really in the cards whether she believed him or not. Still that hadn't stopped her from vehemently insisting that he was not fully recovered and would likely need some kind of backup if things went pear shaped.

To her chagrin he'd ordered herself, and Jacob to get the Salarian nerd while he saw to extracting the vigilante. Upon finally finding himself alone with his own thoughts he'd actually somewhat regretted his decision to strike out by his lonesome. There were certain mental issues he wasn't very enthusiastic to confront.

Naturally his first thoughts tended to drift toward Tali, and his absence from her for over two years. She had obviously changed a great deal since her time on the original Normandy, although he couldn't say the same for himself. Gone was the timid Quarian girl who seemed to constantly walk on egg shells around everyone lest she cause offense with her mere presence. That shy girl had been replaced by a seemingly strong, and self assured woman who bore the mantle of her own command quite admirably. He'd been pleasantly surprised by their chance meeting, and yet what should have been a joyous reunion seemed somehow tainted by both being pulled in opposite directions by their respective duties. Not to mention his uncharacteristic hallucination of her grisly death. He'd never experienced anything like it before except for maybe when he'd been wielding the sword he'd found on Feros. Even remembering the horrors of Akuze failed to cause him to lose his grip on reality.

This train of thought invariably led him to one he'd been actively trying to avoid since waking up in the Cerberus facility where Project Lazarus had been executed. Was he the real Commander Shepard, and if so was he in some way altered to better facilitate the goals of Cerberus. Admittedly he did feel "off", but didn't have any way to tell if that was due to his unnatural resurrection or to some new piece of hardware crammed into his skull to keep him compliant. This sizable unknown meant that his normally black and white perspective of the universe was now significantly clouded by multiple shades of grey. His heart was filled with doubt, and uncertainty where clarity of purpose and confidence should have been. Somehow, in a way he didn't fully understand, he felt like he was missing a piece of himself. Yet, deep down, his instincts told him that this was the hand he was dealt and his continued survival hinged on his ability to move forward. There was no way to reclaim what he'd lost, but he could still fight to carve a new niche for himself in this new life.

After a fortifying breath, which almost caused him to double over and gag, he re-centered himself on the task at hand. With renewed focus he pressed on through Omega's dingy back alleys toward where his target was reported to be. The distant echoes of gunfire, and explosions served to validate the info he'd received from his Cerberus handlers. He quickened his pace without breaking into a full run lest he attract unwanted attention. With every step the sounds of fighting grew louder as the whir of a gunship's engines shrieked overhead.

'A gunship?… This guy must be one tough son of a bitch. I like him already.' Shepard thought to himself.

As he wove through side streets he was careful not to head directly for the battle using the main thoroughfares, preferring instead to approach from the shadows to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible. Shouts, mech servos whining, and the whip crack of gunshots became clearer as he rounded a corner and came upon the struggle unfolding. From what he could see from his limited field of view there were dozens of freelancers charging across an open bridge with uniformed mercs providing supporting fire from safely behind barricades. Opposite was a severely damaged apartment building with several muzzle flares flickering in response from the second floor.

Freelancers were being cut down in droves by the well aimed barrage of gunfire directed at them, but were steadily gaining ground despite their losses. One managed to heft a grenade launcher into position to loose an explosive charge into the second floor window before taking a bullet straight through his forehead. Even as his lifeless body slumped to the pocked concrete walkway the grenade sailed into the building ahead, and detonated with a reverberating *whump*. All guns in the second floor apartment fell silent at once giving the remaining freelancers their chance to make it off the bridge, and into the enemy's lair.

"Shit." Shepard growled to himself as his chances of extracting Archangel alive just dropped through the floor. Somewhat to his relief a couple guns opened up again trying to hold back the tide of freelancers swarming into the apartment, but it was too little too late. With the option of stealthy infiltration no longer viable, the Commander primed his amps, and bolted from the relative safety of the alley he'd been observing from. He bounded forward haphazardly spraying bullets at the barricade to keep the merc's heads down before channeling dark energy into a shell around himself that catapulted him into the back of the closest freelancer.

It took the unfortunate man's companions a handful of seconds to figure out was happening before they could turn to deal with the new threat in their midst. More than enough time for Kraven to wreak considerable havoc. His right fist flashed with biotic fire as he lashed out with practiced strikes sending hapless freelancers flying, while his left came up to fire round after round into vulnerable joints or helmet-less heads. Once his pistol's slide locked open in overheat he threw the useless weapon away to continue his relentless hand-to-hand assault. Bullets started to ping, and skip off his barriers as he waded into the dwindling number of fighters that had turned to finally repel him.

A young man in nothing more than civilian garb, and a dorky looking hat screamed something unintelligible as he fired his SMG as fast as it would cycle. A smattering of projectiles battered the Commander's precipitously declining barriers while a much larger portion of their number flew wide. Without hesitation Shepard closed the distance on the terrified looking youth, and sent his right knee rocketing into the young man's abdomen. Blood fountained from the teen's mouth as he was lifted nearly 3 feet straight upward from the force of the blow before crumpling to the ground in a heap.

The Commander unceremoniously stepped over the twitching body priming a biotic shockwave in each hand. The last two freelancers left standing, perhaps recognizing their peril, turned in unison to seek cover but hadn't even begun to move before a dark energy fueled pressure wave impacted them from behind. They were dead even before hitting the far wall as the sudden pressure spike tore through soft tissue, and messily started hemorrhages in their internal organs and brains.

Without stopping to survey his grisly handiwork the Commander vaulted up the stairs at the back of the apartment to make his way up to the second floor. In the back of his mind he was acutely aware that his amps seemed a good deal cooler than they normally would have been given his recent exertion. Even as he raised his hand to knock on the closed door in front of him it occurred to him that he was also barely out of breath. While convenient given his current situation those realizations, and what they could possibly represent, chilled him to his core.

Pushing those dark thoughts aside he hammered his armored fist against the cold steel of the door, and shouted at the occupants inside. "Archangel! You still alive in there?"

"Who wants to know?" A muffled voice called back from the other side.

"My name is Commander Shepard."

Silence followed by the characteristic boom of a heavy rifle boomed. "Shepard's dead. Has been for a long time." A different, almost familiar, voice answered.

"You're not wrong. I got lucky… With a lot of strings attached." He waited for several moments, heard another booming report echo from inside the room, then reached back to unclip his shotgun and drop it clattering to the floor. "Look I probably wouldn't trust me either, but like it or not I'm out here, and I might be the only chance any of you have of making it off this rock. I'm unarmed which is more than what you'll get with the mercs. So would you rather deal with them, or me?" Quiet was his only answer for almost 30 seconds which caused his temper to begin to fray. "You don't have a lot of time, and I'm starting to forget my manners. What's it going to be?"

With a whir, and a click the lock on the door cycled off to allow the portal to open. He took in the scene before him in an instant as he stepped into the smoke choked interior. To his right a disheveled looking Salarian was desperately tending to a bleeding Batarian who sat slumped against the back of a smoldering couch. A few lifeless bodies littered the floor in various stages of disassembly while a fully armored Turian stood poised at the window with his eye set to a rifle scope.

Kraven looked between the three, soon to be two, remaining combatants. "Archangel?"

The Salarian didn't look up from what he was doing, but pointed a finger back toward the Turian at the window. For a moment Archangel didn't move before a round thundered from his rifle's muzzle to tear through a hapless Vorcha's throat downrange. With no other targets immediately apparent the marksman stiffly stood from his sniper's perch, and turned to face his uninvited guest.

As he did he reached up to remove his helmet, and toss it onto a half collapsed armchair. Recognition immediately flickered across the Commander's brain. "Garrus?"

His friend's steely stare met with his own. "What's left of him."

Kraven stepped forward to take the Turian's hand, and pull him into a back slapping hug. "Shit Garrus, you're the last person I expected to see today! What the hell are you doing here?"

Garrus' mandibles twitched in the Turian approximation of a subdued grin. "Oh you know… Just a little target practice… Keeping my skills sharp."

Shepard instantly noticed the strained tension in his friend's subharmonics, and the haunted look in his eyes. "What happened?"

The Salarian straightened from the body of his Batarian comrade and answered for Garrus. "We were betrayed by one of our own team members."

Shepard looked to his friend, and received a hopeless nod in response. He placed a consolatory hand on the Turian's shoulder. Garrus nodded in appreciation of the Human gesture as he turned back to stare across the bridge below. "It's been rough… Isn't much we can do about it now though." He slowly craned his neck to look at Kraven from the corner of his eye. "Not that I'm not grateful to see a friendly face, but… how are you even here? I watched the Normandy go down with you on board two years ago."

Shepard took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. "You're right. As far as I know that's where I bought the farm. From what I understand a certain organization found my leftovers, and pieced me back together. I only just woke up a little while ago."

Garrus' eyebrow perked up at the baffling use of idioms to describe a terrifying death. "A certain organization?" His subharmonics seemed to have gained a small measure of levity.

"If you can call them that. You remember the jackasses we put down that kept trying experiments with Thorian Creepers and Rachni?"

Garrus turned to regard his old Commander without hiding the shock on his face. "You don't mean to tell me Cerberus are the ones that brought you back."

The Salarian grunted in disapproval, and let his hand drop dangerously close to his sidearm. Noticing the movement Shepard raised his hands, but kept his voice even. "The very same. Trust me I feel the same way you do. They're about as trustworthy as a hungry snake with two heads, but regardless they're the ones that did it."

Garrus folded his arms as his eyes narrowed. "So… What brings you here?"

Shepard stared back without missing a beat. "The short and sweet is that Human colonies are being abducted in the Terminus. I'm looking to find out by who, and why. To do that I need a team of the best. That's why I'm here. To get you out so you can join my mission."

"And we're just supposed to trust a Human terrorist organization?" The Salarian spat.

The Commander shook his head. "Who said anything about trusting them? I saw firsthand what's happening on Freedom's Progress. They gave me the means to try, and stop it so that's what I'm going to do. If they want anything more than that from me then they can kiss my undead ass." The Commander looked back at his former teammate.

Garrus stood motionless for nearly a full minute before finally relaxing, and reaching out to clap his best friend on the shoulder. "Alright, you convinced me you're the real Shepard. Welcome back old friend."

Kraven allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. "Good to be back. Out of curiosity though. What would you have done if I hadn't?"

"You'd have ended up like one of those poor fools on the bridge. Speaking of which if you have a plan for getting us out of here we'd better get started. It looks like they're getting ready for the final push."

Shepard nodded in agreement. "I saw a gunship not too long ago. I assume it was meant for you so the sooner we blow this joint the better."

The Salarian tentatively stepped up beside the Human, and Turian. His mistrust still evident on his amphibian features. "The Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse are all waiting for us. I'm not sure how you plan to sneak past them."

Shepard regarded the lithe alien. "Well…"

"Korick."

"Well Korick. I'm not exactly the guy you want if you're looking to make a quiet getaway."

Garrus stifled a chuckle. "That's an understatement. What was it you called yourself? A one trick phony?"

"Pony." Shepard corrected.

"Right. Well if I know you you'll want to go charging headfirst, guns blazing, and see how far you can make it."

The Commander nodded as he turned to walk back and retrieve his shotgun. "Sounds about right."

Garrus let the first genuine smile he'd had in days spread across his avian features. "Well I just so happen to have a certain something that might improve our chances of actually making it out of here in one piece." The sound of Eclipse mechs awkwardly vaulting over the barricades across the bridge drifted up through the broken apartment windows.

Shepard wracked the slide of his weapon to chamber a cartridge. "Oh yeah? And what might that be?"

Garrus motioned for him to follow toward the rear of the apartment as rounds from the mech's guns started to pepper their position once again. The trio quickly headed back to the furthest bedroom which had been converted into a sort of weapons stockpile before Garrus strode over to pick up a long package wrapped in black plastic leaning against the wall.

The Commander's heart rate started to quicken as he imagined what might be inside. With precise movements Garrus grabbed a small combat knife from a slot in his armor, and flicked the blade through the tape holding the wrapping around it's contents.

Shepard's eyes widened with excitement as he caught a glimpse of what lay shrouded within.

"What are we supposed to do with that?" Korick griped seeing the useless, ancient implement as the last of the plastic fell away.

Garrus reverently took it by it's hilt, blade down, and presented it to his friend. "We? We only have to enjoy the show."