REQUIEM

EPILOGUE

November 29, 2185

1700 hours.

Subeez Cafe/Restaurant/Bar, Vancouver, United North American States, Earth.

The drink swirled in his hand, the brownish looking whiskey giving off the heavy smell that he had come to associate with alcohol. It was a wonderful smell. He loved it. But he loved the feel of it passing down his throat, the warmness it gave him. It allowed him to ignore the stinging pain that he still got from losing his squad, and he couldn't help but find himself going to bars just like this one. At least here he was safe, somewhat.

"You going to deal or what, human?"

He ignored the batarian's annoyed taunt, and slammed the card down on the bench without even looking at him, knowing he had won the game, but taking no pleasure in it. How could I care if some puta loses his money? Doesn't bother me in the slightest. Got bigger things to worry about. He took another gulp of the whiskey in his hand, savouring the warm drift of it down his oesophagus. It was sweet bliss.

"What!" The batarian exclaimed, slamming his own cards down in anger as he glared at the human who had beaten him, eyes narrowed in a glare, "You beat me!"

"That I did," the marine replied, finally turning to face the snarling batarian, "So why don't I see credits infront of me?" Without even waiting for his response, he landed his hand down and snatched all the credit chits from the three batarians, and placed them in his breast pocket, smiling as he did, "Been a pleasure, mi amigos."

Claiming his winnings, he turned back to the counter, moving to retrieve of the chits to use to buy another drink, but stopped when he saw the TV stop playing the same boring golf it had been, and switched to a CNN report, with the words 'breaking news' along the bottom. Below that it said 'Commander Shepard incarcerated' and everyone in the room literally stopped what they were doing to watch, and so did he. He had always been a huge Shepard fan, and to say he was surprised by what people called the 'Bahak Incident' was an understatement.

Soon, a male reporter appeared on the screen, human and obviously standing outside the Defense Committee HQ in Vancouver. The man began speaking, motioning to the building behind him, "Thank you, Wilkins. As you can see, I'm currently standing right outside the Systems Alliance Defense Committee headquarters in Vancouver City, where Commander Shepard, now recently removed from active service, has been moved after Fleet Admiral of the Navy Joseph Garrong sentenced him to temporary protective custody under the armed guard of Rear Admiral David Anderson. We questioned him earlier today."

The scene switched to one of Shepard trying to push through a crowd of reporters to reach the building, with two marines behind him struggling to keep up, and what looked to be Anderson right infront of him. Finally, the reporter on the CNN reached him, and stood before him, mike raised, "Commander Shepard, why did you destroy the Bahak System, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Shepard merely looked at the camera for a few more seconds, before shaking his head, snorting him and then picking up the camera, throwing it across the crowd and away. The marine could only laugh at the reporter's face as the second camera footage kicked in, and Shepard managed to escape.

"Why did Shepard murder three hundred thousand innocent batarians? Why, has he gone from champion of humanity, to our worst kept secret? Find out more on-"

In a fit of anger, he picked up his glass and threw it at the screen, smashing it in a instant, causing the feed to cut out. The batarians growled in protest, and the bartender turned to him, angry, "Hey! You can't just do that! Do you know how expensive that TV is?"

He shrugged, taking the credits he had won and throwing them at the bartender, who managed to catch them. As the marine began to walk away, he spoke, "Pay for a new one with those."

Not even turning to see if the bartender heard him, he moved to walk away, only to be stopped by an outstretched arm as the the three batarians from before came to stand infront of him, eyes narrowed in anger.

The leader spoke, cracking his knuckles, "You got a problem with justice, human?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he snarled, "That butcher killed my people. Thousands of them. He deserves what he gets. I'm just disgusted that the Alliance didn't send him over to Khar'Shan where real justice could have been served. Imprisonment is hardly a sentence worthy of a murderer."

"I'll that in mind the next time the Hegemony raids another one of our colonies," he stated, moving to walk away, only to be blocked again, "Look, you either move or I-"

"Or what? Fine, walk away. I don't want anything to do with a dirty Shepard lover, anyway."

That's when he lost it. Sick and tired of the shit he was getting, he lashed out, his first punch connecting with the batarian on his right. He went flying into the bar, allowing him to duck as the leader swiped at him with a knife, already having the same idea as he had. Just as he tried to stab him in the scalp, the marine leapt up and grabbed the knife, twisting it from his grip and letting it fall to the floor, allowing him to slam a knee into his gut, followed by an elbow in the mouth, sending him onto the ground. One batarian managed to grab him from behind, but he simply shot his head back, his head impacting the batarian's nose with a sickening crack, followed by a scream of rage. With the batarians distracted, he saw his chance to run and he took it. Without even looking back, he sprinted from the bar, the leader's words following him, "Run, you filthy coward! Run, just like Shepard did!"

He ran out into the corridor and down a set of steps, before arriving in the main atrium. He turned around, making sure noone was in pursuit. But just as he turned back around, he stopped, an alliance officer standing infront of him, position unflinching and he came to a abrupt stop infront of him. He was a Rear Admiral, if his officers bars were anything to go by and he wore an Admiral's military cap. He was about to scan his features when he saw the dark-skin, and immediately recognized him. Widening his eyes, he stood to attention, snapping a salute, "Admiral Anderson, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant," Anderson replied, returning the salute with a shake of his head, "What are you running from this time?"

"Nothi-"

"There he is!"

They both turned to see the three batarians running towards them. He turned to face them, ready to fight, but also thinking just how crazy they must be to attack an alliance officer right infront of an Alliance admiral on Earth of all places. I must have seriously pissed them off.

Anderson was infront of him before he knew it, and was ducking low, delivering a sweeping kick that took one of the batarians off his feet and onto the floor, where Anderson abruptly eliminated him with a swift kick to the head. Spinning, he managed to dodge the other's punch, where he grabbed the arm, ducked under it, and twisted it until he heard a satisfying crack, followed by Anderson taking the man's knife and using the handle to break his nose, stunning him. Without even looking, he turned and stabbed the charging leader in his kneecap, causing him to scream in pain before Anderson then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and toke him down onto the floor, where he was finished off with a swift punch to the face. Standing back up, Anderson barely watched as he kicked the last batarian in the balls, causing him to fall onto the ground in horrorendous pain; one he didn't watch as he quickly motioned to the Lieutenant to follow him, who had been just watching in awe. Seeing the Admiral's motion, he quickly him out of the building and onto Vancouver's busy streets where a skycar was waiting.

"Sir, that was-"

"-awesome? Yes, people seem to forget I was an N7 long before I was an Admiral," Anderson explained, moving up to the skycar and opening it, beckoning him to get in.

"Sir? I'm on shore leave."

"Not anymore. I've got an important task for you that doesn't involve moping around in a bar. Now get your ass inside this car before I ram you with it."

He didn't need to be told twice, and quickly got inside, closing the door behind him as Anderson assumed the driver's seat. Gunning the engine, the admiral made a vertical takeoff, before disappearing into Vancouver's skyline. Joining in the traffic, Anderson eventually spoke, not looking at him as he did, "So, Lieutenant. What do you think you've achieved today?"

"Not much, I guess. Just been drinking, playing cards."

"So you're moping."

"I'm not-"

"Don't play that game with me, son. I know a moper when I see it. I got my ass handed to me by a bunch of fellow marines when I was young, thought I was bloody invincible. Then I got saved by a salarian spectre. A salarian spectre. I moped around alot after that, and that was before I was even an N1. You know what I achieved? Nothing!"

"With all due respect sir, getting saved by a salarian spectre doesn't match losing your entire squad defending a colony from the Collectors, then having to choose between saving the colonists from an escaping Collector ship, or destroying the ship and getting information on the Collector homeworld's whereabouts, then choosing the latter, only to learn that the Collectors had been defeated by the time I obtained the information, making my choice worthless, and wasting all those lives."

Anderson had merely listened. When he was finished, he asked him something completely random and out of the blue, "You a fan of Shepard, son?"

"I...yes sir, but I don't see how-"

"Yeah, well he just tried to stop an imminent Reaper invasion," Anderson told him, "You heard of them?"

"Only rumors. People said the Council thought Shepard was crazy."

"Yeah, well they're a hyper-advanced machine race of-"

"-sentient starships hellbent on destroying all life in the galaxy every fifty thousand years, and they wiped out the Protheans, the geth worship them, and the geth dreadnought that attacked the Citadel was a Reaper. Yes, the rumors mentioned those, by chance."

"Good. Saves me alot of needless explanation. Yes, well Shepard just stopped them from invading not too long ago. But to stop them, he had to ram an asteroid into the Alpha Relay to stop them from entering the galaxy through the Bahak System. That's why he did. To stop them. And you know what?"

"What?"

"He did it to stop them, only to be imprisoned, to learn that the galaxy still won't be ready when they arrive, and that he won't be able to scavenge for more evidence. He killed three hundred thousand batarians, and for what? Nothing. He delayed their invasion, if only to buy us a few more months, or years if we're that lucky, of bliss. So trust me, Shepard understands how you're feeling. But right now, he isn't moping around like you are. So you need to get your shit together. What's done is done, no getting past that."

He nodded, straightening his posture in the seat and looking out the front windscreen, eyes full of newly found confidence, "What do you need me to do sir?"

"I need you to help me guard a certain, very important prisoner."

"And who might that be sir? And why do you need me to guard him?"

"Because marines of your caliber, Lieutenant Vega, are very rare," Anderson replied vaguely, shaking his head, "This prisoner likes rare calibers."

He turned to him, suddenly his mission now dawning on him. A smile creased his lips, "And just...who might this prisoner be, Rear Admiral?"

A moment of silence, followed by three simple words.

"Commander Marcus Shepard," Anderson informed him, "That's who."

He could only lean back and relax, liking this new job position already. It beat any station assignment, and at least it was guard duty he could get into.

The day just got better for Lieutenant James Vega.