.
"Where is Andromeda?"
"John Shepard. Spectre. 5923-AC-2826."
"Insufficient. Where is Andromeda?"
"John Shepard. Spectre. 5923-AC-2826."
"You will regret your resistance, Shepard."
.
.
Shepard heard the drill pushing into the back of his neck, but could not feel it. He could no longer scream, his throat raw and torn. He could no longer move, his body non-responsive and broken.
The drill reached his spine, and then Shepard could feel its vibrations as it bore into him. A moment later the drill stopped and something latched itself inside him. As the drill retreated Shepard found pain - white hot as whatever had been left behind embedded itself deeper with muted clicks.
He still could not scream.
.
.
Shepard was back on the Citadel. The Conduit was open, vehicles moving through it.
Elation. Hope.
He was on Ilos. The sky holding the Crucible.
The sky holding hope.
The sky holding...
Shepard drove the memory from his mind - slammed his will against the alien presence that had forced him to relive that moment.
The presence pushed back, driving Shepard into darkness.
.
.
He was walking.
He stopped, looking down.
Legs covered in dried blood - black blood. Metal embedded into joints and flesh.
Were those his legs?
A voice burned itself into its mind.
"Walk."
Shepard walked.
.
.
"Where is Andromeda?"
"No..."
"You prevent nothing. Your resistance will fail."
"I'll die first."
"We are the Harbinger of your subjugation."
"John Shepard... Spectre... 5923-AC-2826."
"You will serve."
.
.
"Where do you think they are?"
"I try not to think about it, Joker."
"Why not?"
Shepard tried to push the memory away.
"It doesn't do any good. We'll know when we need to know."
"Well, duh, but that doesn't mean you still don't think about it. Come on, Shepard, I've known you for a long time and there's no way you haven't thought about their best options."
No...
"Fair enough. Truth be told I think their best option would be to keep themselves as far the Mass Relays as they could. Situated in the space between systems. Transportation would be more difficult, but they would have ample warning if a Reaper entered a nearby-"
NO.
Shepard buried the memory. Pushing it down, grasping at any other powerful emotions he could.
In this desperation he thought of Liara. The feel of her skin on his own. Her eyes. Her smile.
Harbinger's voice roared through him.
"You will serve."
"NO."
"If we must tear you apart, Shepard, we will."
Suddenly joy, anger, and dozens of other emotions cascaded over Shepard as his mind began to crumble. He tried to push the confusion away, tried to retain some semblance of his being, but Harbinger refused to relent. Piece by piece, the Reaper was destroying him.
And then Harbinger's presence was gone.
Shepard, impossibly, opened his eyes.
He was standing at the center of an expansive courtyard. Buildings soared up into the sky around it, towering above with walls of glowing steel and glass. Beside him stood an armored statue, tall and regal, with a roaring flame at its base.
Thousands of voices seemed to speak at once, filling the air with a single question, "Do you know where you are?"
Shepard turned towards the source of the question. It was a child, or it appeared to be one. What should have been skin was transparent, and its eyes shone with a blue fire that...
"What happened?" Shepard asked quietly.
"I intervened."
"Who... who are you?"
"We are your salvation. Do you know where you are?"
"I don't."
"This is your memorial on Elysium. Created when you died."
Shepard turned back towards the statue. It had no identifying features, beyond the regulation N-7 armor.
Suddenly, Hackett's voice echoed through the courtyard, amplified as if he were speaking into a microphone.
"While this memorial is created in remembrance of the late Commander Shepard, it is also a reminder that it is our actions that define us. The will to preserver and thrive in this existence comes from within, not from any external source. The strength Shepard displayed in life is a trait each and every person in the galaxy should strive for, and we hope this memorial will inspire others to pursue their potential."
Hackett's voice dispersed, his last words echoing though the empty avenues and walkways of the city.
"I never heard that speech," Shepard stated, returning his attention back to the child beside him.
"Many did, and they are a part of us now. You were a beacon of hope, to more races then your own. It is rare for a single individual to be exalted to such a degree, and rarer still for them to be deserving of it."
"Who are you?"
The child turned its gaze onto the statue in front of it, and the landscape around it and Shepard began to change. Buildings collapsed, fires erupted from the ground, and the memorial shattered into pieces.
"We are your Salvation, Shepard."
Screams suddenly roared from within Shepard's mind, and he collapsed to the ground clutching his head.
"You will regret your resistance."