Mass Effect II Through the Fire and the Flames

by Tutor Veritatis

Shepard's past as a 10th St. Red comes back with a vengence after receiving a message from a storage facility where he buried his past. He will face the demons and mistakes of his past, with the love and support of Tali, and overcome his greatest mistake.

3. Return of the Prodigal Son

Mass Effect II – Through the Fire and the Flames

Chapter 3 – Return of the Prodigal Son

At the far edges of the solar system, known to humans as Sol, the Charon Secondary Mass Relay came alive. Its dual rings, holding the element zero core stable, increased in speed and the length of the relay sparked and flashed with power as a connection to another secondary mass relay established. As the relay completed the link to its correspondence, a streak of blue flew through the empty space. The blue light dissipated as it reached the relay, revealing the Normandy. Moving away from the relay, Joker called across the ship "transit complete, moving away from the Charon Mass Relay. Course laid in for Earth."

In his quarters, Shepard was engrossed in the fifth chapter of a novel, reading it from his omnitool. The announcement stole his attention from the line he was reading; scowling, Shepard tried to find his place again; it was irksome trying to find the line again, and it was one of his personal irritancies to be interrupted or to stop reading in the middle of a line.

Finding his place, Shepard marked it with a bookmark and closed the book. Getting to his feet, he stretched and bent backwards, sighing in pleasure as his spine popped satisfactorily. Shepard squared his shoulders, checked his uniform in the mirror and entered the elevator to take his place as the Normandy approached Earth's sensor range.

Arriving at deck two, Shepard strolled to the bridge, crew members snapping to attention or greeting him with 'Commander' as he passed. Eyes roaming the crew at their stations performing their duties brought a small smile to his face.

These men and women had risked their lives to fight for a common cause, had accepted aliens aboard a human-dominant vessel built by a human-supremacist organization, and willingly fought against the Collectors, and the larger threat of the Reapers because he, Shepard, did so. Recalling a lesson from his drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Ellison "Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys. Look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even onto death".

That one from Sun Tzu had always interested him, especially when he'd risen to an officers' position and had soldiers to command. Understanding of that line had come with experience, acquired the hard way with the events of Akuze. Losing his unit to that Thresher Maw forced him to recall what had happened with the Reds. Shaking his head, Shepard let go of those memories and continued toward the bridge.

From the starboard viewport, Shepard could see the gas giant Neptune as the Normandy sailed through the unknown towards home, just as the grand sailing ships of Earth in the days before self-powered vessels. That thought brought another memory of the Reds, a pleasant one before the events which tore him away from his first family. A trip up the coast of California to different towns, the biggest being San Francisco; amazingly, it was August and Los Angeles was in a heat wave, but the city of San Francisco was shrouded in cold fog.

Billy and Isabella had taken him to a tiny park at the northern edge of the city, called San Francisco Maritime National Park. The place had old ships, two of the ships had sails and the biggest had looked as if it were a pirate ship. It wasn't, but the sight of the ship was awesome; simple but grand in the way she had sat silently in the waters, an old lady resting upon the laurels of long days on the open ocean.

"Approach control, this is PSV Normandy, requesting vector and berth at the Los Angeles Spaceport", Joker said; that brought Shepard out of his musings. Through the viewport, the Normandy flew by Saturn and its magnificent rings. The delay between transmission and reception of the request at the orbital stations around Earth and the reply was a barely noticeable, "Acknowledged Normandy, you are cleared for landing; proceed to dock 9, berth 3-27."

"Roger control, proceeding to dock 9, berth 327 acknowledged" Joker replied and cut the channel. The Normandy passed through the asteroid belt and Mars within minutes. Closing fast, the blue speck in the ever black and star-speckled void of space grew in size.

Passing the Moon, Shepard heard footsteps approaching the bridge. The rhythm and pattern of sound those feet made were distinct; without turning Shepard knew who it was. A second later, Tali stood at his side.

Earth grew larger in both viewports, the blue of the oceans shining beautifully. One of his history lessons with the Reds taught Shepard about the first astronauts, and how many of them described the site of Earth as breathtaking. Shepard had seen the site many times before, but it still stole his breath at the beauty of it.

"Keelah" Tali said, equally in awe at the site. "I've seen pictures of the Quarian homeworld, Rannoch, but this is…" she couldn't finish the sentence. "I bet I'll have a similar reaction to Rannoch when we see it Tali" Shepard said, edging close enough for his left elbow to brush against Tali's right arm. She slid her hand around his arm and held at the elbow; glancing down, Shepard saw her eyes were half-lidded and he knew a smile graced her beautiful face.

As the Normandy approached Earth's atmosphere, Joker began inputting descent vectors and thrust output. Shifting the angle of descent, the Normandy entered the outer atmosphere. Plasma traces coursed over the hull, surrounding the ship in a nimbus of white fire. Entering the lower atmosphere, the nimbus dissipated and finally flickered out of existence. Plummeting thousands of feet in seconds, Joker angled the Normandy into a dive and powered up the mass-reduction systems, allowing the Normandy atmospheric flight. Breaking through the clouds of the troposphere, the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean stretched out beneath the ship towards the horizon.

"Joker, think you could bring us down further?" Shepard asked; Tali turned her head, about to say it was a bad idea, but EDI got to the punch first "Commander, standard atmospheric flight regulations strictly state an elevation of no less than ten-thousand feet is required for ships entering an inhabited planets' atmosphere, no less than 15,000 for primary worlds, such as Earth". Joker caught Shepard's and rolled his eyes in annoyance. Smiling, "EDI, this ship breaks hundreds of regulations just by existing, a couple more won't be overly harmful"

Shepard said; remembering another fact, Shepard finished "also local or even Alliance authorities can't do much accept send a strongly worded letter to my mail account; SPecTRe status being what it is, after all". Joker smirked and EDI responded "of course Commander, the choice-and consequences, are once again yours, however. I did warn you".

No reply, but the nose of the ship dipped slightly and sunk lower into the atmosphere. Approaching 1500 feet above the water, Joker righted the Normandy, decreasing the angle and finally leveling the ship. The Normandy cast a great shadow over the deep blue water; from this elevation, the naked eye could make out the calm surface of the ocean.

From the bridge, Tali saw something rise from the water and expel a great spout of water. Her gasp of amazement drew Shepard's attention; coming to her side, he smiled at the sight of the pack of whales below.

"EDI, what species is that down there?" Shepard asked. "Humpbacks, Commander. They are currently migrating for warmer waters." Unable to tear her eyes away from the majestic creatures, Tali asked "what are they?" Smiling at her reaction, Shepard said "Humpback whales, a marine mammal. I once saw a pack of them when I was a kid".

Leaning forward, and surreptitiously placing a hand around Tali's waist, Shepard peered through the viewport and watch the pack as well. Tali leaned in and rested her head on his chest; Shepard responded by sliding his hand further around her waist to hold her closer.

The Normandy flew over the expansive Pacific Ocean, and all too soon the great skyscrapers of a city were visible on the horizon. Joker pulled the ship higher and began docking procedures for entering the spaceport. "L.A. Municipal Spaceport, this is the PSV Normandy, we are on approach West-North-West at 5000 KPH, height 10,000, prepared to receive final docking procedures" Joker said over the comm to the approach control station operator. "Normandy, disengage, repeat disengage, you are outside set approach vectors. Disengage and attempt second approach" the operator replied.

Stepping forward, Shepard spoke over the comm channel "This is Jeremy Shepard, commanding officer of the frigate PSV Normandy; I am an agent of the office of Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance". Activating his Omni-tool, Shepard transmitted his SPECTRE ID code over the open channel. A momentary pause on the other end before the operator came back "ID confirmed Agent Shepard; your ship has been cleared. Proceed to Dock nine, bay three."

As the spaceport came into view of the bridge viewports, Shepard gazed upon the city below. From this height, nothing had changed since he'd left it behind. Same tall buildings, cars flying through the air at hundreds of kilometers per hour; the same as it had been so long ago. He wondered if the city had changed at all or not, or just the perception had.

The view of the city changed to a view of the spaceport dock as the Normandy entered its designated bay. Joker powered down engines and the mass effect core as the docking arms locked the ship into the suspended cradle. Opening a ship-wide channel, Shepard said "All Crew, attention: the ship will be in dock for three days, with possible extension. Remain within range of the ship until further orders. Shepard out." Closing the channel, Shepard turned and walked with measured steps back to the CIC and the elevator.

Tali saw his posture and became immediately worried; shoulders stiff and back straight, hands laced together behind him, and no easy stride in his walk. She knew that posture only happened when Shepard was tense and thinking hard. Joining him as the elevator opened, Tali remained quiet despite the question she burned to ask.

A sigh and she turned to see Shepard had the distant cast in his eyes which appeared during his renditions of the past. The stiff set of his shoulders eased, hands unclenching and falling to rest at his sides again; the far off cast in his eyes also retreated and his back relaxed, "I'll change and then we can head out" Shepard said.

The elevator stopped at deck one; before Shepard could step out, Tali took hold of his forearm and held it. Sliding one hand down his arm and into his hand, she held on tighter; Shepard turned to her, but the mask hid any expression of her face. "I'm here for you" Tali said, stepping closer, her eyes intent on his "Talk to me, please; you didn't last night or this morning. What happened after you became a full member of the gang?"

Eyes downcast, Shepard said "When I was seventeen, everything began to change. A new member came into the gang. This guy came to us, said he was from another motorcycle gang on the East Coast and wanted to join the Reds instead. We should have thrown him out; he was…he just made everyone around him uncomfortable, but he was smart and got the gang a job running goods around the city.

It paid well, enough that we could eat everyday; before this guy came, we always had to worry about money for food, parts and maintenance for our bikes. Before him, it was always a choice" stepping out of the elevator, Shepard entered the cabin and made for the drawers on his side of the bed.

He pulled out jeans and a t-shirt; Shepard began to remove his officers' uniform. Folding each article of clothing carefully, a habit ingrained during basic training, he stowed the clothes away in the second drawer.

Tali sat on the bed as he was pulling on the jeans and tucked in the shirt. Shepard donned a lightweight button-up shirt for the year-round heat in Los Angeles, a pair of sunglasses to partly hide his face, and a belt with a brass N7 buckle, a personal favorite he'd retrieved from the wreckage of Normandy SR-1.

Shepard sighed, fingering the sunglasses before taking them off and placing them in the breast pocket of his shirt. He sat down on the bed; hands clenched together "the guy who changed, and in the end destroyed the gang…he went by the name of Finch". Tali tensed at the name, remembering two years ago when Shepard met Finch outside of the alley to Chora's Den.

Shepard hadn't mentioned the depth of his gang life then, but it was clear that Shepard had desperately wanted to put a bullet, or several, into Finch when it was revealed who Kurt Weisman really was: a terrible xenophobe and attempted mass murderer.

Shepard hadn't killed Finch then, instead told Finch the other races of the galaxy, and especially the Council, would not believe any of the stories Finch or his friends told about Shepard. Moving closer, Tali reached across Shepard and turned his face toward her.

"Tell me, Jem; you've told me so much already, and I'll help anyway I can", a big smile broke across Shepard's face. He took her hand, kissed it, "how did I get so lucky to find you in this whole galaxy?" Though he couldn't see her face, Shepard knew Tali had a smirk on her lips "I recall a…conversation we had in engineering" she said. Shepard recalled those conversations and a smirk replaced the smile "you mean when we flirted".

Tali giggled, "maybe" she said "I recall one in particular: a certain dashing commander and a young woman who he rescues and lets her join his crew, and then flies into danger to save the galaxy" she laughed again.

Those moments with Tali had been some of the most awkward, and albeit entertaining, conversations Shepard ever had with her. With his mind lightened by the mood Tali had created, Shepard again organized his memories "Finch came to us when I was seventeen, and it didn't take him long to become a member"

Los Angeles, California

United North American States

September 2, 2171

Frustration coursed through Jeremy as he ran his hand through the tool chest, "Odin damn you, where is that wrench?" he said. Without finding the tool, Jeremy slammed the chest closed; it rattled, almost fell over before Jeremy could steady it. The chest was heavy, requiring him to brace it with his legs and push it back to a standing position. Jeremy huffed and began his search anew. Checking the tables and other tool chest, he finally found what he was looking for: his favorite ratchet wrench. The tool was well made, balanced and fit well in his hand; with practiced ease, Jeremy spun wrench between his fingers.

After a few twirls, Jeremy grasped the wrench by the base of the handle and threw it into the air. It flew, spun and dropped; just as he was about to catch it, a hand reached across past his face and caught the wrench instead. A momentary shock froze Jeremy in place, but he twisted away and faced…Billy stood there with the wrench in hand and a frown.

"I've told you before not to do that; if you slipped, the wrench would either break or the wrench would break your head wide open. Either way, we couldn't afford that". Jeremy knew that much already; the gang was strapped for cash, no one had called in for a job and none of the other members had found one either. The whole gang had all, literally, needed to tighten their belts recently.

Buying food was always priority and the bought at the cheapest store in 'Old Town'-the old, mostly abandoned part of the city where only the poorest and most destitute dwelled. Tyr always made parts for their bikes, material scavenged from junk yards, melted down and re-forged, but he still needed money to purchase the most difficult parts.

Crossing his arms, Jeremy said "I've seen you do that same thing more times than I can count, not really the best example to set". The look on Billy's face changed quickly: anger, frustration and finally settled on irritation "which is why I always add 'do as I say, not as I do'". Jeremy shrugged and held out his hand for the wrench.

Billy started to hand it over, but drew it away before Jeremy could grab it "no more playing with the wrench; it's a tool, not a toy". Jeremy huffed, "alright, I'll be more careful with it". Billy hesitated before handing the wrench over. Jeremy turned to his bike and slid underneath the chassis; an assembly bolt, one of many which held the entirety together, needed a small adjustment.

At the moment it wasn't serious, but it could have been. Jeremy and everyone else in the gang inspected their bikes thoroughly after every ride. Afterward, each member inspected another's to make sure they hadn't missed anything. Inspecting your own bike was routine, but to let another do it as well was a level of trust reserved for only a few. For Jeremy, that included Billy, Isabella and Sebastian, who was as close to a real brother he could ever want.

"I got a call earlier from an old friend" Billy said above him, "I had told him about our money situation and he's sending over one of his own gang to help us out. My friend says this guy is good with finding money". Jeremy slid out from the bike; the assembly bolt was now properly tight, and he looked up at Billy questioning "who's this friend? And who's he sending?" Billy grunted a laugh, "Is' asked the same thing, just the same way too". Billy turned to him, "as I said, the guy is an old friend; he's another gang leader, similar to us guy there sending is supposed to be good at finding paying work and handling numbers".

Jeremy heard footsteps, indicating Billy was pacing, a habit of nerves and agitation. "He wants into the gang for what he can offer, and if he comes through…I'll consider it". Jeremy abruptly stopped in his work; Billy would CONSIDER IT! Letting in an outsider, even one from another gang, without the education first; Jeremy slid out from underneath his bike, almost clipping his scalp on the frame, and sprang to his feet.

Billy merely stood where he was nonplussed, not registering the swift movements Jeremy had just made. "Why would you let someone in without first putting through all the training I had to go through first? He may be from another gang, but we're our own gang: we have our own rules, our own lifestyle, unique only to us. You told me once there were hundreds of people, thousands the same as us, but all different. Why let in an outsider merely based on what he can do for us?" Jeremy argued, heart beating fast at the thought of someone else in the gang, an unknown, acquiring a position without trial.

Billy looked away, and that caused Jeremy to fear greater "It's not just money, eating and fixing the bikes. There's more, but those issues are mine alone" he said, turning to fix Jeremy with an uncompromising demeanor; the squared set of his shoulders, the firm line of his mouth and the steely gaze behind his amber eyes, all meant to convey the message Jeremy was to follow, not question.

Jeremy backed down, dropping his eyes to the floor and backing away "I understand". Billy clapped him on the shoulder, shook him, and then embraced him. Jeremy could feel the tension in Billy's muscles ease, a sign Billy was relieved of a great anxiety. The situation, whatever it could be, was far greater than just money. At the moment, Jeremy couldn't comprehend what was wrong.

Billy released him, "I'm going out to meet him personally, and Sebastian is going with me. I want you to go, too" he said. Jeremy nodded in agreement, but asked "why not Isabella?" Billy shook his head, "she had a…a stomach ache this morning, and didn't want to get out of bed. She'll be fine" but Jeremy felt Billy didn't believe his own words. Billy clapped him on the shoulder, "be ready in thirty and we'll head out"

Thirty minutes later, Jeremy and Sebastian were waiting in the living area, dressed in their riding outfits, but Billy had not yet appeared. He was up on the top floor of the sleeping quarters, in the room he and Isabella shared. Sebastian sat in his chair, the one immediately to the left of the couch directly in front of the T.V. Jeremy reclined on the couch, tapping his foot without knowing of the action, and Sebastian was reading, as always. A door opened, and Jeremy saw Billy exit the room.

His shoulders were set, eyes forward and his gait determined; descending the steps, he passed through the living area and shouted "hi-yup". At the command, Jeremy and Sebastian leapt to their feet on reflex and marched with Billy toward their bikes. Mounting 'Attero Dominatus', Jeremy pulled his helmet over his head. As with all of the gangs' helmets, Jeremy's featured a custom design created by Tyr after his Trial of Spirit; the helmet was crafted in the shape of the phoenix, the great bird of fire.

Billy had explained the Phoenix, upon its death rose again from the ashes, stronger than before. Any person marked with the sign of the Phoenix would endure great trials in life, but those would lead to great reward and strengthen the person for what was to come next. Jeremy thought the idea was cool, becoming greater than before; whatever these trials of life were, he could take it. The gang would always support him and be the strength he needed to overcome anything.

Billy gripped the handles of his bike, and twisted the throttle at the same time kicking the ignition. His engine roared to life, sparks and some trace fire eschewing from the twin tail-pipes running the length of the body. Sebastian sat atop 'Orgullo del Pueblo', a stout muscular machine inspired from an old motorcycle company which Sebastian affectionately "Harley D".

Revving the engine, Sebastian sat as if he were a king upon his steed. Jeremy lay length-wise along the seat, grabbed the controls and the bike awakened to his touch. The engine started with a growl, which deepened until the machine shook with the hidden power it possessed, begging to be unleashed.

The great warehouse doors opened; at Billy's signal, the three riders released their breaks and rode out of the building. Their speed was steady as they rode, and Billy led the way through the broken streets of Old Los Angeles. Passing through neighborhoods once vibrant with life and culture of the vast multitudes of people who once lived here, they now lay decrepit and unlived, a place lost to memory.

The streets were littered with the refuse of society; all kinds of refuse, from trash and garbage thrown into the streets, to feces and urine and dead animals. No services were provided for these old areas, no water or sanitation or garbage recovery. It was merely abandoned to fester and die, uncared for by the rich who lived within the walled in skyscrapers of the new city.

Jeremy hated living here; seeing human beings left to die without any sign of human dignity from the world at large. They rode past it all on their own business, but all three watched as the scenes changed before them: an old, shambling woman with barely rags covering her hunger-ravaged body, looking more a corpse than alive. Trash piles, rotted and smelling of decay, several feet high, mountains of refuse. A rat ate the garbage, its own body desiccated from hunger; out of nowhere something snatched the rat and buried its face in the animal's stomach. Jeremy didn't get a good look at it, but it was big enough to have been a child.

Little changed along their route; Billy signaled and, in unison, all three turned left, riding down an old street which would bring them into what was once known as Hollywood. The old luxuries of the area, the palm trees and exotic plants had mostly died out from lack of tending. From cracks in the pavement, plants grew and some thrived, but most was just the same as everywhere else. Riding further, they came upon an old movie company lot. Just as with the Reds, these old warehouses and large buildings were inhabited by squatters and gangs.

None of them were close to the Reds, but they were sometimes good for getting information and sometimes had news for jobs. Beyond that, however, none of these gangs were trusted with anything related to the Reds, and no one associated were allowed to become members the Reds...ever.

Riding through the old movie lot, Jeremy caught glimpses of people inside the old buildings. Jeremy ignored them and followed Billy through the lot until arriving at one warehouse. Moving around back, Billy slowed, stopped and shut off the engine. Sebastian and Jeremy, having followed suit, removed their helmets and placed them on their seats. Billy jerked his head toward a door which led into the warehouse.

The interior was mostly dark, but some light poured through an opening in the ceiling, illuminating a tense scene. A small group stood by a long stretch flying cruiser, an expensive Asari model if Jeremy guessed correctly, and he usually did guess correctly. A lone man, wearing riding leathers stood before them, negotiating with a man hidden in shadow.

Jeremy could tell the situation was tense, but it seemed to be ending. After a minute, the shadowed man stepped forward, not completely but enough to shake the man in leathers hand. The small group, excluding the rider, got back into their cruiser and left. The man turned, saw the open door and the three men in rider leathers and walked over.

Average height and build, not fat but not at all muscular; he had, what Jeremy thought, was a rat's face. The kind of face only men who were rats could have, men who could find opportunity but scurry away just as quickly with little or none of the aftermath falling upon them.

Billy stepped before the rat-faced men, fist over his heart "By Odin and the Gods, welcome Brother" he stated. The rat-faced man placed his fist against his heart "May the Gods of Metal favor you and yours, Brother". Billy extended his hand, and the rat-faced man grasped his forearm "with you, I believe the Gods have indeed favored us" he said "when our mutual friend told me of you, I was not given a name". The rat-faced man chuckled, a smirk creasing the left of his face but his eyes held no humor. "Never really had a name, joined my gang so young I've forgotten it, but I go by Finch"

The memory of first meeting Finch, that slick-as-oil bastard who took everything, blissfully came to a close in Shepard's mind. All of this time, telling his story to Tali, it felt as if he was nearly reliving the times from so long ago. The memories played as if on a projector in his mind, and Shepard repeated what he saw. "Finch took over the gang's money troubles; within a month, we were eating regularly, three we didn't have to choose between riding and eating. We could afford both. No one questioned where the money came from; none of us ever did so long as ate and rode our bikes."

"And what about Isabella?" Tali asked. Her accent leant the name a beautiful lilt, which tempered the painful edge of the memories. How strange, such a small thing as the name of a loved one spoken by another who is loved could have such an affect. "She was better after that day, and rode with us on many of the jobs Finch set up. My favorite one involved a kind of relay race across the city, handing off the client's package from one rider to the next to distract and confuse the police as they chased after us".

Shepard chuckled at the memory, his eyes once again cast back in time to that job "Sebastian rode with it before me. Once I had the satchel slung over across my chest, I took off as fast as I could while Seb took half the cops off my tail. I reached Isabella, who finished the job, and did the same for her as Seb did". Shepard got to his feet, Tali rising with him, and both entered the elevator to deck two. Walking through the CIC in silence, Tali knew Finch had betrayed the Reds; whatever he did, Tali could not fathom the pain it caused Shepard.

They reached the forward airlock and stood with a small group of the crew who were disembarking. Tali saw Ken and Gabby, who had taken their friendship beyond that since the Collector mission; Jacob, easily seen for his height, and Kasumi together, hand in hand. Jacob had changed from his usual attire to a blazer and jeans, while Kasumi wore a hat with a wide brim and sunglasses, always to keep her face hidden from cameras or prying eyes.

Kasumi saw her and smiled a subtle greeting. The airlock door opened and the group of Normandy crew entered. The air cycled and the exterior door opened onto a milling crowd of people boarding ships or entering the terminal. Shepard surreptitiously slid the sunglasses back onto his face.

The group of Normandy crew members passed through the security checkpoint without hindrance. Tali passed through and joined Shepard beyond the security checkpoint; she reached for the crook of his right arm and held it. He smiled and led her to the taxi stand beyond the automatic doors. Summoning a car, Shepard said "About a year after Finch had joined the gang, some things began to change".

The car arrived, Shepard took the pilot's position and Tali sat beside him. The car lifted into the air and sped away. The city stretched out in front of them, great skyscrapers looming far above while the ground was obscured by cars. From Shepard's stories of his life, however, she knew the ground was populated with the refuse of all types and those shunned by society.

"Finch brought in clients who were…shifty, just as he was. Some of them made my skin crawl just talking with them. But we never said a thing; we got the package, delivered it and got paid. One day, I got curious, stupid curious, the kind that gets you killed: I opened one package I was supposed to deliver across town"

Los Angeles, California

United North American States

August 5, 2172

Jeremy knelt over the package. Terror coursed through him, a poison of hesitation. The client, a shifty, greasy-haired bastard who smelled of ripe sweat and urine, had told him to deliver it across town to another guy, this one over five hundred pounds, smoked hand-rolled cigarettes which smelled of dead skunks. The last time, and thankfully only previous time he had met the fat guy, Isabella was with him.

She had shoved the package in the guy's face, and turned to leave. Jeremy collected the money, and noticed the client watching Isabella leave, watching her ass specifically. After that encounter with the fat man, Jeremy had prayed, literally prayed, never to make another delivery for the fat man ever again, a prayer for himself and Isabella, and the rest of the gang.

This delivery, the greasy-haired guy had said, while in an alcohol and drug induced stupor, not to open the package, that there would be "dire consequences" if he did, to which the greasy bastard had laughed until a wet stain spread across the crotch of his ragged pants. Slowly, Jeremy opened the satchel; inside was a simple metal case with just a simple latch holding the lid closed. Pulling the lip of the latch forward, the spring released the held tension and the top opened slightly. Opening the lid fully, Jeremy beheld six small tightly wrapped plastic bags, each containing white powder.

The fear surged forward; Jeremy shut the lid quickly, stuffed the case back in the satchel and threw it in the trash. Jumping onto his bike, the machine came alive at his touch; the tires spun, the engine roared to life speeding Jeremy away from the alley. 'Drugs' Jeremy thought 'we're running drugs for these bastards, and Billy agreed to it'. That thought was the worst; Jeremy gripped the throttle harder, and the bike responded. Jeremy thumbed the radio via a control on the left handle. He tuned it to Billy's personal radio.

"Shadow calling Baron, come in" he said nearly shouting. A few seconds, and Billy came on "Baron here, talk to me Shadow". Jeremy didn't respond for a brief moment, fear stilled his voice. "Package did not arrive. The package did not arrive". Jeremy took a breath, trying to get calm but it was difficult "Billy. It's drugs; the package was full of drugs". Billy didn't respond for a minute, then "get somewhere safe, I'm on my way". Jeremy switched the radio to standby, and rode to the nearest safe point in the city, a small building down the street from the condemned Graumin's Chinese Theatre.

In the taxi, possibly above where he had ridden that very same day so many years ago, Shepard fell silent again. Tali felt sick that Shepard was used in that way, first by the man who Shepard had thought of as a father and then by that bosh'tet Finch. The more she heard, the more she wanted to shove her shotgun into some part of Finch until the clip was overheated, and possibly shove that down his throat until the man was cooked alive from inside his own body.

Thoughts such as imagining more and more terrible deaths for Finch occupied her mind until Shepard reached over and held her hand. His fingers twined together with her, his thumb stroking the palm in slow movements. She settled back into her seat, letting the tension that had built in her body go. The anger still festered and burned, but she hid that behind the calming effect of Shepard's simple gesture. He held her hand for a while longer before returning both to the taxi's control console.

"Billy had to repay the client what the drugs were worth, but no fallout beyond that". Tali hesitated for a few seconds, then asked "you told him about the drugs" it wasn't really a question, she could guess but she wanted Shepard to continue. He nodded "I told him; he said he had suspicions but, again, he told me we needed the money and explained why".

Shepard stopped, his jaw clenching and turning his head away to peer out the window. Tali couldn't see, but Shepard was attempting to hold back tears which threatened to break from his eyes. "Isabella was sick" he said simply. Tali did not respond to that, she didn't need to. Watching her mother die from sickness, the feeling was indescribable and terribly painful.

"There were medications which could help, but there was no cure and she always had to be on medication. Three sets in the morning and four in the evening, plus medication to make her hungry so she could eat. It ate away at her, slowly" Shepard paused, took a breath "the medication was expensive, and we couldn't buy from any hospital in the city, because we were not registered with their medical service. No other facilities existed outside which could provide the medicine. So we bought from dealers, and they charged extra for smuggling it outside".

The memories of that time, once when he had accompanied Billy to a purchase, sickened Shepard. Peering through the widow again, he could tell nothing had changed. The rich still lived in their great towers, with clean water, food, homes and available health care. None of them cared for the destitute outside their sheltered paradise.

"A week after I found Finch was using the gang to deliver drugs, I was sent on another job. That's when…everything" he couldn't finish. Tapping the autopilot, Shepard slid his chair back a small distance. Removing the sunglasses, left arm across his chest with the right resting atop, he pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit when he was attempting to It reign in his emotions. Tali sat, wishing she could do more than just give emotional support. Witnessing his pain rent her heart, but she could do so little. Shepard breathed deep through his nose, exhaled "that was the final job I went on for the gang, but it was a trap".

Los Angeles, California

United North American States

August 12, 2171

Jeremy sat in an armchair, reading a personal favorite of Billy's he'd borrowed. He'd come to understand why the book was addictive, it was well-written and the story arc was great. But for the past week, he'd been unable to read more than ten pages. After finding the drugs as the package for the fat client, any thoughts of reading were quickly replaced with what would happen or could happen.

Out of nowhere, the book in his hands was sharply pulled away. Jeremy looked up; Finch stood over him, the book held mockingly over his head baiting to be grabbed.

"Take it kid, if you want it" Finch mocked, a stupid grin across that smug rat face of his. Jeremy ignored the bait, sitting up a little straighter and staring Finch directly in his eyes "I'm not going to reach for that book, so you may as well stop dangling it over my head" he said, then smirked "your arm will get tired otherwise". Finch scowled, tossing the book, hitting Jeremy in the chest. Ignoring that as well, which made Finch scowl more, Jeremy said "what do you want, Finch? Are you here to bait me with childish pranks, or is there something actually important?"

Finch crossed his arms, his scowl now a deep frown "you shouldn't talk to me that way. If not for me, you'd being eating trash from a dumpster by now". Finch pointed a finger at him, directly before his face. Jeremy wanted to grab it and break it, but restrained himself. "You should respect those who are better than you, kid".

Jeremy crossed his arms; he would not rise to Finch's little games. Finch had acted this way since he'd first arrived with the gang, belittling those he thought were lesser than he was, which was mostly everyone; most of the gang ignored it, a few attempted to put Finch in his place, but he never stopped. Billy had once caught Finch staring at Isabella once, staring where he should not. The look on Finch's face, and bulge in his pants, made what he was thinking apparent.

Billy had dragged Finch outside, and hit him so hard across the face his whole body spun. Billy had proceeded to plant his boot on Finch's neck, pressing hard, and telling Finch if he ever stared at Isabella that way again, he'd kill Finch. No humor, no hollow threat, and to emphasize Billy had twisted his boot. The bruise had lasted for a week and a half.

"I got a job that needs doing. You're alright ridin' a bike, I guess, so you're on it" Finch said, handing Jeremy a note. The note had the address and name of the pickup location, an old house on Beverly Hills Jeremy had been to on another job once before Finch came. Having learned just to take Finch's orders and go, Jeremy stood, grabbed his winged helmet and mounted his bike.

Once Jeremy had moved a few miles away from the warehouse, he turned on his radio "Baron, this is Shadow, over". Waiting a few seconds, without a response, Jeremy tried again. No Response. He tried the other members, but they were silent as well. Finch had sent them all on jobs earlier, but none had returned home.

The ride to the pickup location was uneventful; the condemned streets of Los Angeles were quiet, not a single gunshot, the cry of a hungry child or the great thumping sounds of the smaller gangs playing loud music. The lack of these sounds pushed his paranoia higher. Turning to move into the old neighborhoods of Beverly Hills, his unease did not abate. The old houses, once occupied by people without worries of hunger or shelter, stood silent and abandoned. A sense of being watched overshadowed the paranoia.

Turning down one final street, Jeremy saw the house near a cliff. Out front stood several motorcycles, some of them Billy recognized: they were the bikes of the other Reds, mingled together with bikes from other gangs which populated Los Angeles. Some carried symbols Jeremy recognized, the Dragons' gang and the Skulls emblems such as, but others were unknown.

Approaching the door to the house, Jeremy saw it was open. Someone inside the house opened the door wider, a member of the Skulls gang with their distinctive face tattoo of a skull. The guy was bald but had a long mustache "Finch sent you" the guy asked. Jeremy nodded, and the guy jerked his head, inviting him inside. The entrance foyer was large, to one side was a glass wall and a spiraling staircase led down a floor on the left.

The smell of alcohol was everywhere, mingled with the smell of something burning. Jeremy followed the guy towards the back of the house and up another set of stairs. A new smell hit Billy hard: it was fetid, gut-wrenching and Jeremy kept his throat from flexing to puke.

At the top of the stairs, Jeremy found a thick column of black smoke rising through a hole in the ceiling. The smoke rose from what had once been a Jacuzzi tub, turned into a fire pit. Around the fire pit, body parts were strewn everywhere, and blood soaked the old carpet. The sight sent Jeremy into shock. One part of his mind was analytical: body parts cut by fast-moving tool, chainsaw in corner covered in blood.

Another part recognized the members of his gang: Sebastian, head and arms being thrown into the fire, torso and legs waiting. Two others were recognized as well, Billy, still alive but on his knees and covered in blood, held down two burly gang members.

And Isabella; she two was alive, but crying. She looked up and saw Jeremy, and new tears poured forth. A gang member slapped her hard across the face, and the other holding her down laughed. This guy, lanky but fit, reached down a squeezed Isabella's left breast, hard. The reaction from Isabella could only be described as animalistic instinct.

Her face twisted in a grimace of rage, her eyelids stretched and she bit the offending hand. Her teeth sank through flesh, cut tissue and hit bone. She wrenched her head and tore the guy's thumb off. The lanky gang member screamed, another hit Isabella across the head with a length of pipe. The blow connected with her temple, and she slumped.

From where he stood, Jeremy, his senses sharpened from adrenaline now coursing through his veins, saw Isabella look at him, smile, and die. Everything was in slow motion: the members of the other gang, shocked into inaction by the show of violence, stood dumbstruck. Billy, eyes wide gazing upon his dead friend and lover, seemed to crumble before Jeremy's eyes.

Tears rolled down Billy's face; turning, Billy locked eyes with Jeremy. Those eyes were dead, as if his soul was partly gone. Billy breathed a single word, Jeremy could not hear but the word was plain: run. Gazing upon the violence, Jeremy felt the muzzle of a pistol placed against the back of his skull.

A part of him wanted the trigger to be pulled, to join Isabella and all of his brothers and sisters; to no longer bear witness to the scene of carnage. Another part, primal and buried beneath the conscious mind of a human being, arose and became stronger than the wish to die. His vision narrowed, and an overpowering rage took hold of him. He was no longer Jeremy Shepard, adopted son of Billy and Isabella; he was an animal, consumed by instinct to survive.

Spinning on his heel, away from the barrel of the pistol, Jeremy grabbed at the barrel and kicked out with his foot at the knee of the bald gang member. His rage-powered kick bent the bald guy's knee backward until it shattered. The blow caused the bald guy to drop the pistol into Jeremy's hand.

Pistol in hand, Jeremy ran for the front door. Flying down the stairs, Jeremy was a blur down the hallway, out the door and onto his bike. The engine roared and he was off, tires squealing, down the street, onto the thoroughfare and Jeremy rode away. The speed-driven wind calmed the animalistic urge to survive, but his mind raced with all that had just happened as it repeated over and over again trying to make sense of everything. Billy, Isabella, and Sebastian, everyone…gone. The word turned and repeated in his mind onto infinitesimal lengths.

From another street, on Jeremy's left, another rider came out of nowhere. Jeremy turned left just in time to avoid a collision, and the other biker went down a side street. The rider had been from the Skulls. Another rider came along side Jeremy and brought down a length of pipe, cut and sharpened at the end to a sharp point. Jeremy pulled back, the pipe missing the front of his bike narrowly. Slipping his hand around the grip and trigger of the pistol, Jeremy aimed and fired.

The recoil was more than he'd expected, throwing him off just a little so the bike shuddered before regaining its balance. The other rider, this one from the Dragon's, his body jerked from the shot to the head, fell off his bike and lay dead in the street. His bike swerved right and crashed into an old storefront. Two more riders came from the left, forcing Jeremy to turn right to avoid collision.

After two blocks without interruption, two more Dragon's rode parallel to him. They did not attack, but blocked him when he tried to turn. The riders broke away at the end of the street; before him were the assembled gangs of the Skulls, Dragon's, and several smaller gangs the Reds had dealings with in the past. At the forefront, was Finch and beside him was…Billy.

Both wore their helmets, but Finch removed his, slicked his hair back with his fingers, with a smirk across his ugly rat face. The victory Finch believed he possessed showed on his face. "Well, kid, 'bout time you showed up. We were waiting so long I'd thought you were taking it slow". Jeremy, fist tightening over the handles, said nothing, for nothing was to be said.

"Well, your whole gang is now dead, its leader giving over control to a better leader and you stand alone" Finch said, the smirk growing into a sick grin of triumph. "What'll you do, kid? You might as well join me; you have nothing else and nowhere to go otherwise". Jeremy slowly opened his visor, the face cover slid into the frame of the helmet. "I will never join you. Never; I would rather die than forsake the honor of my family by joining you. Finch, I challenge you…to an HONOR RIDE!" Jeremy screamed at the top of his voice.

Finch laughed a high, disturbing laugh of a madman. He stopped for a moment, stared Jeremy down, then "alright" Finch said. Jeremy was surprised, but he didn't show it; the anger burned everything from his face. "As the one who is challenged," Finch said "I have the right to choose who I want to ride in my place, if I don't want to personally."

This time it was Jeremy who laughed, high, mad and mocking "are you a coward, Finch? Do you order your puppets and boot lickers to do your bidding while you sit and watch as real men fight your battles? I knew you were weak, Finch, but I at least thought you would want to personally end the Tenth Street Reds gang by yourself. I was wrong, however, as you are too much of a coward"

Finch, his face contorted, quavering in rage shouted "DAMN YOU AND YOUR HONOR! I'LL DO WHAT I WANT!" And then, Finch pointed at Billy and then at Shepard. It was an order to take Finch's place in the Honor Ride. Billy seemed to hesitate then revved his engine and approached Jeremy. He watched as Billy came along his right side, helmet and visor down concealing his face.

He didn't look at Jeremy, but ahead along the road, toward the start of the Honor Ride. Billy reached for his visor, pushed it up and his faceguard receded into the frame of his helmet. "Do you remember the laws which govern the Honor Ride?" Billy asked in a dead monotone. His eyes held no life whatsoever as he'd been witness to Isabella's death.

A crackle of thunder overhead; Jeremy looked up to see a blackened sky, fat rain clouds thick with lightning. A bolt lanced across the sky, and the thunder proceeded immediately after. Returning his gaze to Billy, Jeremy said "Billy, we can escape. We can outride these bastards easy; we're two of the best in the gang. Please, let's get out of her". His voice was weak and pleading. It stung his pride to appear weak before the man who'd taught him of honor and strength, but it couldn't be help. Billy did not respond to his plead, instead

"Do you remember the laws which govern the Honor Ride?" still in the same monotone. Jeremy was near breaking, the ordeal within the last hour and Billy's non-response pushing him near the edge of full emotional breakdown.

"Billy, please forget the Honor Ride; we can outrun every one of them and escape, please" this time, tears threatened to break from his eyes; his hands shook on the handlebars and his legs trembled. Now did Billy look at him; slowly turning his head to look Jeremy straight in the eye.

Billy opened his mouth "There are five laws which govern the Rite of the Honor Ride: One, the Rite may only be invoked upon a clan which has caused severe distress to another, and may only be invoked by the clan who was the recipient of the distress. Two, the Rite of the Honor Ride, once invoked, must be carried out by only two rider of each clan; no one else outside of the two clans may interfere. A leader of either clan may substitute one rider for another, but only once may they do this. Once this is invoked, there can be no alterations"

Billy, as he recited these laws, continued in the same dead monotone and lifeless eyes. Jeremy was breathing hard now, gasping for air as Billy continued to recite the laws "Three, the Honor Ride shall consist of a single race between the riders of each clan. Both clans shall agree upon a date, set by record and stamped with the seal of each clan. Both clans must participate in the Honor Ride, otherwise the honor of their clan is forfeit, their names stripped from the record and they shall be branded as honorless and cast among the winds of the earth, never to return again on pain of death."

The sky thundered and flashed with lightning, a great cacophony accompanying Billy's reticence of the laws "Four, the race shall end when one or both riders die, and no reparations will be paid to either. Should one rider win, the clan of the rider shall receive reparations agreed upon by arbiters of other clans. Should both riders live, the clans will set another date for a second Honor Ride until such time as when neither rider survives or one emerges victorious."

"Fifth, the riders of both clans must take part in the Honor Ride, be they willingly chosen by their clan leader to represent the clan or they have chosen of their own mind. Should one rider seek to forfeit the Honor Ride, he shall be seen as honorless. If he continues his withdrawal, he shall be branded as honorless, cast among the winds of the earth, and his name burned from the memories of his clan, to be forgotten in mind, body and spirit until he passes from this earth." Jeremy couldn't take it anymore.

He slid from his bike, and with a wail of sorrow which rivaled the thunder in the heavens, Jeremy fell on his hands and knees, weeping openly no longer caring if anyone saw. The rain began, first a few drops but quickly increasing in speed and ferocity. Jeremy, his face streaked with tears and twisted in agony, "please forgive me, I have forgotten the tenets by which I live my life. For this I will gladly offer my life and my soul to redeem my honor and the honor of my clan" Jeremy sobbed in grief.

A hand pressed upon his shoulder, and squeezed. Raising his eyes, Jeremy saw Billy; his eyes were somewhat cleared and a tight smile graced his face. Tears rolled down his face, reaching out a hand, Billy pulled Jeremy to his feet and embraced him. Crying upon his shoulder, Billy said "you have not forgotten the honor of our clan, my son. You are blinded by grief so terrible and it pains me to see you so"

Billy removed Jeremy's helmet, his own next, and held Jeremy's face in his hands, "remember the faces of our family, my son. Their spirits shall grant you strength for what is to come". Jeremy nodded, and Billy placed a kiss on his forehead; this brought more tears to Jeremy, but he gazed resolutely into his father's eyes and nodded.

Billy handed Jeremy his helmet, crafted in the form of a phoenix head, took it and placed it upon his head. Nodding, once more, Jeremy shut the visor and the faceguard moved back into place. Billy slipped on his own helmet, took the handle bars in his hands and revved the engine. The guttural roar and the crack of thunder were a symphony of power, both man and nature, in one glorious harmony.

Jeremy seated himself atop his motorcycle and joined his roar with theirs. Speeding down the street a short distance, Jeremy spun directly around, passed Billy, toward the place where the Honor Ride would take place. Billy came alongside a few seconds later. Together, they rode side by side down streets abandoned by life, past the vestiges of a forgotten time.

In five minutes, the buildings disappeared, ahead stood a massive concrete infrastructure of old highway, twisting and rising into the sky. The great structure, once used as a major artery for the movement of cars throughout the city, stood crumbling and condemned.

At the very top of the structure, a great gap between one highway could be seen. That was where Billy and Jeremy would ride; together, they would jump the gap, and only one would survive. Jeremy thumbed the second stage release; the LED status lights on his bike shifted from green to yellow, and the bike accelerated immediately to over two-hundred miles per hour.

Billy easily kept pace, a master rider atop a machine which was an extension of his own soul. Turning left onto the old on-ramp, the roadway snaked higher and higher in tight circles. The centrifugal force was great, the tight turns bringing his right knee near the pavement of the road. At this speed and angle, without perfect control, would be deadly. But Jeremy kept control of his bike, as skillfully as Billy, and they rode to the top of highway.

Before them, five hundred feet away, the gap awaited its next victim. In unison, Jeremy and Billy activated their third stage release. Jeremy's console showed the status bar of the stage buildup, rising steadily past twenty-five percent.

They were approaching the gap fast, three hundred feet to go. The status bar reached fifty percent; the bike began to vibrate with the contained power, yearning for final release. Ahead, the gap was one-hundred and fifty feet away now, the jagged edges of the break, left behind when this section fell, appeared to Jeremy as a great maw waiting to swallow them both whole.

The status bar showed seventy five percent, and the gap came within one-hundred feet. Ninety-five percent; now the gap was less than thirty feet ahead. Finally, both bikes screamed a critical mass alarm as both reached one-hundred percent. Jeremy and Billy, father and son, activated the final acceleration stage.

A great roar of power, a rush of air and Jeremy felt the same clarity he did when on his first ride. The gap disappeared from beneath their wheels; they were flying. Above him, Jeremy sensed the great creature of fire, the phoenix summoned by the fire of his motorcycle. He felt its presence envelop him, protecting him from the empty space that would destroy.

Upon the wings of a phoenix, Jeremy flew across the gap. The opposite edge came closer; one wrong move and the bike could slam into the edge, tearing the body apart and killing Jeremy immediately. But he felt no fear, just peace. His back tire hit the pavement of the highway, landing hard but still Jeremy was in control.

A rush of wind proceeded by heat brushed past Jeremy, and he knew. Billy had not landed on the roadway. The body of his bike connected with the edge, been torn in half and the fuel tank exploded.

As it did on his first ride, the sense of clarity receded; turning the front wheel to the left, the deceleration jets came on-line and slowed the skid. The bike spun around and Jeremy faced the great fire which engulfed the edge of the gap. Jeremy removed his helmet, welcoming the rain upon his face as new tears fell.

Bowing his head, Jeremy placed his right fist over his heart and said a prayer to the gods that they may favor the souls of his father, mother, brothers and sisters to find peace for eternity. Replacing his helmet, Jeremy rode down, off the great highway corridor and into the rainstorm covering the land in darkness.

And so his story was ended, his past revealed to the only person he trusted above all others. Shepard glanced over at Tali; though her mask covered her face, the slump of her shoulders, her hands resting in her lap, along with a sniffle he could tell she was crying. Reaching over, Shepard took her hand, squeezed but did not take it off as he'd done earlier. Tali turned her head to look at him.

Unshed tears glistened in his eyes; the muscles of his jaw were tight as he fought back the remorse. She placed her other hand over his, and he squeezed again in a silent thanks. They flew on toward the place where his old motorcycle, the last piece of his old life, lay buried and hidden away.

Leaving the main area of the city, the car flew out over ruins of once vast city. Buildings of all sizes stood, but all were in terrible condition. From their height, Tali could see buildings burned out, collapsed, and many more abandoned. The old city still stood, but it was dead. "There it is" Shepard said. Tali turned to see where he was looking: a small lot full of old cargo containers, all bearing the same abandoned appearance, lay within the perimeter of a chain link fence.

Shepard brought the car down closer and landed in the center of the lot of containers. Opening the canopy of the car, Tali got out and Shepard followed suit. The car rose into the air, guided by an automatic return subroutine written into the computer program.

Looking around, Shepard saw a sign with several numbers displayed. One pointed in the direction of the cargo container he'd rented years ago. "This way" he said, taking Tali's hand, leading the way through the stacks of cargo containers.

At the end of a row stood one container, black with a painted red ten on the door. The door was padlocked, no electronic security whatsoever. Approaching the door, Tali could sense Shepard growing tension. Behind this door lay the last vestiges of his old life.

Standing before the great steel doors, Shepard pulled the belt buckle away. Hidden in a small recess of the buckle, a key was securely fastened. Removing the key, Shepard took the padlock in hand, inserted the key and turned. The lock clicked open, but Shepard hesitated to open the doors.

Tali lay her hand on his, nodded when he faced her, and they both opened the door.

Author's Note:

The longest chapter I have written, and what a thrill it was. As I wrote the Honor Ride scene, I listened to Manowar 'Today is a Good Day to Die'. It perfectly set the tone for what I was trying to convey.

And for you, my constant readers, there are only one or two chapters to go after this. This chapter had to be the longest so far due to the very nature of the circumstances under which Jeremy left the gang life behind.

All rights reserved by Bioware and their staff; ideas, concepts, designs and locations are mostly of my own creation crafted from multiple sources. Read, review, comment, etc., my standard rules apply concerning language and commentary.

Arrivederci,

Tutor Verum

P.S. God Bless America on this Fourth of July, two-hundred and thirty-five years since 1776; Give thanks to our vigilant defenders of the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force and Coast Guard. As a History major and a patriot, my heart swells with pride to live in this nation. Whatever the government does, they do not always represent the ideals of America.

'Loyalty to your nation always, Loyalty to your government when it deserves it'

Tonight as you watch the fireworks explode and color the skies across the United States, say thank you to any servicemen and women you meet, for it is they who have protected us so far to have reached this anniversary.

And for any servicemen and women reading this piece: thank you, for all that you do, from the depths of my heart