Hi Roy.

That's actually quite funny! I thought I was hearing barn animals at first, then I realized it was all the groans from the people going through your training, haa! It can't be that bad, can it? I mean, back then you... Well yeah, if you can carry me like that, I bet you can do all your work no problem!

Anyways, school's starting today, so yeah. I'll keep it short, if they end up having to wait for me I won't hear the end of it. I'm getting used to the timetable here, don't worry.

I was going to ask. I mean, back at the station. When you came in to talk to us and we didn't talk. How did you manage? And don't say patience, I can't make that work.

I have to go. Be careful.

Lana.

I read the message a few times, a little bit confused. It was all disjointed. And the question at the end? Yeah. How did I manage? And patience doesn't count? Manage what, to get her to talk? That was mostly her.

Unfortunately, I had to leave it all to think about it later, because it was five and we had to get up. I was up earlier, but now that everyone was stirring, it was time to get my ass out of bed. I was barely up when the shout ripped through the barracks.

"Attention!"

We all shot to our feet, ramrod straight. To my surprise, the drill sergeant was making a beeline for me, and he looked pissed.

Good times. I was so green I hadn't realized yet that the drill sergeant was always pissed.

"Mindoir!" he shouted. My nickname, how lovely.

"Sir!"

"Lights off means lights off! No talking, writing, or fucking around with your omni-tool! Now get on your face and give me twenty-five!"

Wait, what? Goddammit, what's the bloody point? It was like five-

"What are you waiting for? Make that fifty!"

Shit!

"Sir yes sir!" I said, and got on my face. I swear, I had made more push-ups in my first two days than the rest of my life put together. Now the day had barely started and I was already at fifty.

That, of course, didn't mean I had more time to get ready. I pushed the fifty as fast as I could, which turned out to be surprisingly fast. The drill sergeant had told us that they were going to break us in order to make us into soldiers, but I hadn't realized it was going to work this fast. Miracles of medical science, ripping us apart and fixing us overnight apparently kickstarted the benefits of the gene mods.

Remember how I mentioned I was so green I needed mowing? Yeah, at that time I though that things were going to get easier and easier as the mods kicked in. I didn't think that the military had a lot of experience with the mods. And that they fully intended to make good on their promise to break me first.

How adorably innocent of me. Good times.

"All right, listen up!" the sergeant shouted at the line-up. We were all standing in front of our bunks, with a new pile of crap in front of us. "This!" he shouted again, raising a piece from one of the piles. "This is your training suit. You will put it on as soon as you're up, you'll only take it down ten minutes before lights out, you will take care of it better than your own mothers took care of you, and you will only be allowed into my beloved corps when you manage to defeat it! Is that clear?!"

"Sir yes sir!" we all piped up.

"Get to it!"

And so we did. The sergeant was yelling instructions and we followed best we could. As it was the case with everything, the regs were available to learn later – if we survived the sergeant after we screwed up the first time, that is – but we didn't have time for it. Undermesh, pieces starting with the chest, the whole lot. They were not too dissimilar to regular body armor, and as luck would have it, I had been looking things up before shipping out, how guns and shields and armor worked, the whole shebang. So I was done quite a bit faster than most of the rest.

Still not fast enough to be in regulation time. Which meant pushups.

Anyway.

With the extra time, once I was done with the pushups – which hurt like hell, I swear the armor kept getting heavier and heavier as I worked through them – I did a quick check of the regs.

Son of a b-

"Move it!" the sergeant shouted, and without even having to think about it, we were off like a flash.

I was right, the armor did get heavier. The training armor set was designed to have variable weight. How? Eezo. It would increase or decrease its mass, according to the drill sergeant's commands, and even "use" the purposely-built training facilities for even higher mass increases.

Yeah, awesome tech, but I wasn't seeing the upside. Like, at all.

We started the day with some light running. Light for wartime standards at least. Fifteen miles at full tilt without even the benefit of stims. At least we got breakfast, or what passed for it during training. Vat-grown fake meat and... stuff, which we had like ten minutes to gulp down before being kicked out of the mess hall.

All under the smug and amused looks of all the recruits that did pass the fitness tests.

Well, at least it wasn't pot noodles. And ten minutes was twice as much as I needed to consume a couple thousand calories of vat-processed concentrated slop, no problem. I had had a lot of training on eating fast – not necessarily a lot, but fast.

I had plenty of time to think about all that as we ran. It wasn't like I was going to strike conversation with the rest of the recruits or, reapers forbid, the drill sergeant. In fact, I had barely exchanged four words with anyone other than the sergeant. The first two days had been hell on Earth (literally on Earth, as far as I knew Greyhound Camp, where we were, was somewhere near Johannesburg), and the third didn't look much better.

"Look alive!" the sergeant shouted, as soon as we arrived at the station. Every two miles we had a little surprise waiting, and this one was the biggest freaking tyres I had seen in my entire life. "I want these tyres on the other side of the court, groups of six!"

There was this momentary hesitation, which the sergeant didn't miss.

"What's the goddamn problem? You can't count? Move it!"

A few people were already scrambling, but the sergeant's mild reminder really made us all scramble. I found myself pretty alone, but soon found a group and the six of us went for one of the enormous tractor tyres.

"Up, up! Come on!" one of the recruits shouted – not sure who, as we were all in helmets – and up we went.

We tilted the wheel, and one by one we all got underneath to support it. That meant that the last two of us had to do the last bit of lifting, and the thing was heavy as hell. I squatted under the rim, pushed up with arms and legs, and nearly lost the grip due to a sudden and unexpected jolt of extra weight. I managed to recover and put the weight to my shoulder, but I was so preoccupied that I missed it, only noticing how rocky – and heavy – it was.

It was the bloody screams of pain that caught my attention. I struggled under the weight, the wheel moving about and wanting to drop, and as I did, the screams only increased. I couldn't see behind me, so I just concentrated on pushing hard. It took a moment for it to sink in that I was the only one still holding the damn thing up.

"What the FUCK are you-" I started to scream, grunting under the pressure, but I didn't get too far. That's because I heard the familiar outdoors voice of our lovely drill sergeant.

Right behind me.

"What the hell are you idiots doing?!" he said, and not a second later the weight on my shoulder eased up.

Yeah, he was pushing the wheel up like a boss. I was even able to look behind and see him, arms up as if it was a freaking Honda's spare.

"Come on! Get him out of there!" he ordered, and the rest of my group scrambled to complain.

Four of the six, I mean. The fifth had landed under the falling tyre and been crushed from the waist down. I only managed a sneak peek and it didn't look good. As soon as he was pulled away, the recruits were ushered aside by the medics, and I ended up with a lot more important things in my mind. Like the fact that I was holding up a ginormous wheel with my drill sergeant.

"Push on three and jump back," the sergeant said. "One. Two. Three!"

I did as instructed, and jumped back like the thing was on fire. And it didn't even bounce when it hit the ground, it was heavy enough that it just dropped like a rock. That had to be filled with something.

Fucking hell!

As soon as I was clear of the tyre, my head cleared with it, and I turned to the four idiots who had dropped the tyre on us.

"What the fuck!" I shouted. "You morons-"

"MINDOIR!"

"What!"

I turned, and realized a second too late that I had shouted at the drill sergeant. And yeah, he looked pissed. And not just because I had shouted at him.

"Who do you think is in charge here? Get on your face and give me fifty!"

Sigh.

"Sir yes sir!"

Down I went. More pushups. I kind of regretted that I had stopped tracking my total, I could have figured out the day I finally hit a thousand. Probably before the end of the meatgrinder week. Or maybe ten thousand. And I pushed away, I heard the sergeant absolutely chew the four assholes like nothing else. I mean, when I was done with the pushups and he shouted at me to keep running, I was thinking of them as the poor bastards, not the four assholes. Holy crap.

Hey Lana,

It's finally over. And I survived, too, which is no small feat. Half a dozen people were shipped out crippled that I saw. Probably more. Anyway, passed PFT standards, so I'm properly on my way now.

Let me tell you, it's not fun at all.

How is school going? You didn't seem too thrilled about it last time we talked. I wish we could get more than five minutes on the FTL. I know it's easy to say, but try to stay positive. Couple of years and then you're out, off to college or wherever you want. Eyes on the prize, girl.

It's really hard to tell you anything useful on Thomas, I'm not sure why he's so sullen. As far as I go, back at Arcturus I really didn't do anything special. All I did was wait, it was all you. Not that it was the same for me as it was for you, but we were both on Mindoir at least. We had that in common, right?

Dunno, I'm probably rambling.

Anyway, it's lights out, and they're really serious about that here. Gotta go, take care!

Roy.-

Shepard woke up with a gasp, bolting up and looking around. Someone was there. Something was there. She back-pedalled on her bed until she hit the wall, breathing hard. The room was completely dark, the low glow from the smallest of Mindoir's moons barely managing to break the gloom. She tried to control her breathing, and her eyes darted around desperately.

Nothing was moving. Not a shadow out of place, not a single sound.

It's too quiet. It's too damn quiet.

She reached for her omni-tool, but hesitated. The glow would give her away. She had to stay quiet, and listen.

So she did.

When morning came, she was once again sitting down in a corner of her room, her legs against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Reality had finally hit her. She knew it was stupid. She knew she wasn't on Mindoir. She knew that Eden Prime wasn't going to be attacked by aliens out of the blue. It was safe. But she couldn't help it.

Mindoir had been safe, too.

She heard the rest of the house starting to stir, and still didn't move. It all seemed so pointless. Get up, go to school, make a life, what for? For it to be stolen away? Lose it all? She couldn't think of any reason to go through that again.

"Lana? Are you up?" Carol's voice called out loudly.

Shepard didn't answer.

"Lana!"

What's the point?

A few minutes later the door to her room opened. Only slightly. A mess of brown curls peeked through, and after a moment of silence, Thomas disappeared again and closed the door. Shepard hadn't even looked at him, she wasn't looking at anything. She heard them argue – or, rather than them, mostly Carol – and finally the noise of the front door slamming closed.

So Edgar had taken Thomas to school.

Good, maybe they'll leave me alone now.

It wasn't to be. She could hear Carol trashing about outside, until half an hour later, when the door to her room slammed open. Shepard couldn't help wincing at that, then at Carol as she stomped her way to stand in front of her. She had her hands to her hips, and an angry scowl on her face.

"That's it!" she snapped. "You've got to go to school, and I don't care whether you want to go or not!"

Great, Shepard thought.

Carol was in one of her moods. Of course, it wasn't like she could predict what would set her off. A couple of weeks ago she'd have thought it had been her refusal to go to school. Now, she didn't know. It could have been anything.

She still tried. There had to be a way. At least figure out how to get Thomas out of the metaphorical firing line. The poor kid always got the worst of her verbal lashings, and she couldn't figure out a way out for him either. Not even getting herself in the way worked.

"Well? What the hell are you waiting for? We've put a roof over your head and food on your belly, the least you can do is do as you're told!"

With a weary sigh, Shepard nodded and got up from her corner. She didn't have to say a single word, she knew the sooner she got out, the sooner Carol would shut up. As long as she got her way, her temper would subside.

Unless she got her way too easily.

"You better hurry up," Carol called as Shepard left the house. "And I'll be calling the school to make sure you got there!"

It was hard to resist the temptation to slam the door, but Shepard managed to restrain herself. The more she wound up Carol, the worse Thomas would have it. Instead, she just started the long walk to school. The streets were pretty calm, with most people having already done their commute, and with little reason for anyone else to be outside.

Quiet. Too quiet. Without even thinking about it, her steps sped up, little by little, until she was running. Running along the empty streets, although she didn't really want to arrive to her destination. Just... running. The slowly increasing pain in her legs, the burning in her chest. It felt good. It felt like as long as she felt like that, there was nothing that could touch her.

Hi Roy.

I'm fine. Really. Stop worrying. I'm just getting used to the new school and all. Not that there is a lot to say. I mean, it's school. I don't see much point to it, I have less than two years and I'm finished with it.

About your question. No. I have thought about it, I really have. But I don't think it'd be a good idea. I mean, what am I going to say to them? The last thing I can think of they'd want is someone else from Mindoir talking to them. Seriously, think about it, what else are we going to talk about?

Sorry, that may be a bit harsh. It's just that we have to deal with it, okay?

I still haven't figured out how to get T to talk to me. I'm really about to give up at this rate.

Well, it's lights out for me too. And it's very strict here too!

Good luck with the training.

Lana.

You know, when I joined the army I thought they would be all about routines and whatnot, but my three weeks of training had been, so far, rife with unpleasant surprises. Like getting up and finding out our six-person unit was down to me and Jake. Nice guy, a couple of inches under six feet, light brown eyes and a chiselled face, much as the rest of his body. He was a military brat (his words), and had taken his gene mods as soon as he hit puberty, so he had had time to work them hard. All six siblings were in the military – and he was the youngest of them.

But first things first, tidy up the bunk.

"Where's the rest?" I said, stopping long enough to glance at Jake.

"Not a clue. Not surprised Evan ain't here, but the rest?"

Ah yeah. That had been nasty. Little accident during one of our cross-country runs, a bad fall had splintered his shinbone, and taken the knee with it. Multiple open fracture that bled quite spectacularly. I figured future tech medicine would have him up and running in no time, but he was nowhere to be seen. For what I could see, the rest of our unit was gone too.

A shower and shave later, we made our way to the mess hall, and ate our breakfast, both of us keeping an eye out for the rest of the squad. Not a peep, not even from the drill sergeant.

By the time we made it to the course we had stopped thinking about it. One, two, or six, the freaking course was the same. At least the two of us meant we only had to look out for each other, instead of a whole unit of six. Sounds terrible now that I think about it, but half our unit was just wasting everyone's time.

It made me wonder whether they just didn't care about being reimbursed for enough credits to buy a nice property on half of Earth's colonies.

"All right ladies, listen up!" the drill sergeant yelled, as we all stood in place at parade rest. "You've all been taking it too easy on the damn PT, so it's time to see what you lot are really made of. You are going to complete the confidence course again."

With that, he pulled an assault rifle off his back and raised it over his head.

"Today you will tackle the course for the second time, and this time it'll be under live fire. You will complete this course, and complete it in a better time than your first try, or so help me I will shoot you!"

I was so rooted to the spot that I must have looked like a statue, so much so that Jake gave me an elbow to the kidneys to break me out of the trance.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered. "He's serious."

"IS THAT CLEAR?!" the sergeant yelled.

What do you do when the drill sergeant asks you that? He could be ordering you to strip naked, baste yourself in honey, and jump into a nest of flesh-eating ants, yet as soon as he'd yell that only one phrase would come to mind.

"Sir yes sir!" we all replied.

As luck would have it, Jake and I were at the front. On the word go we both took off like greyhounds chasing after the bone, and we got to the first obstacle in record time. I hadn't even started climbing the rope net when the shooting started.

And then, I have no idea what happened. Last thing I remembered was my heart pumping hard, and a sort of cold dread spreading through my body. I remember pushing hard, and next thing I know, I'm back on Mindoir, with batarians shooting at me as I run for my life. I don't even remember how the transition went.

I didn't even spare a glance behind to see if someone was following me. That was important, I felt like it was important, but I couldn't. Someone called my name, and only made me run faster. Harder.

For what seemed like a few seconds stretched into an eternity I ran as hard as I could. Bullets hit the ground around me, no matter how hard I ran I didn't seem capable of outrunning them. All sorts of weird obstacles seemed to pop out of nowhere. It was when I was crawling under some barbed wire and I got stuck that things came to a head. The shots intensified, and no matter how hard I tried to push, I couldn't break free.

"Mindoir!"

A hand landed on my shoulder, making me jerk to the side to free myself and try to grab it. All I managed was to get even more stuck.

"Get a grip goddamit!"

I looked at the man yelling at me, and realized I knew him.

Shit.

"Jake?"

"Yeah, who else?" he snapped. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Sonofabitch..." I muttered.

It had been enough to break out the weird mental shenanigans. It took me a moment to realize where I was, stuck under the barbed wire obstacle after having cleared almost half of the course.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I replied, trying to shake myself free. Jake pulled me back to undo the snag from the wire, and slapped me on the arm.

"Come on! We ain't done, and we gotta do this together! We're a goddamn team!" he said, and started crawling again.

I followed close, keeping my eyes fixed on him. The gunfire resumed, landing close again, and making me wince. But this time I didn't freak out.

The rest of the course was much less eventful. Other than the freaking weaver, where I damn near broke my ribs due to a slip. And the island hopper, where I faceplanted after a few bullets nailed my shields and pushed me out of balance at the wrong time. Or at the right time, if you're the drill sergeant. I realized as we ran it that Jake was freaking out about being shot at, too. not as much as me perhaps, but he sure was running with a purpose.

As a result of all that, we completed the course in record time for both of us. As we panted our way to the side, making room for newcomers to clear the last obstacle, Jake looked at me and shook his head.

"Since when... Whew! Since when can you run like that?" he said, chucking and panting at the same time.

"I don't like being shot..." I muttered.

At that, Jake stopped walking and just broke out laughing. He winced in pain as he doubled over, still laughing, and struggling to breathe at the same time. When he finally calmed down, wiping tears off his eyes, he slapped me on the back and started laughing again.

"Shit Mindoir, who does?" he said, and gave me a good natured shove out of the way.

Yeah well, I guess he had a point.

Hey Lana,

Hows things? Let me guess, same old same old, huh? Yeah, I guess you're right, Eden Prime isn't the most happening place in the galaxy. I can totally relate, trust me on that.

Here things are getting more interesting. Finally finished the first part of training, physical and all. Heck of a month, let me tell you! Not that they're going to stop grinding us down with PT, but at least it should be more manageable from now on. We're starting weapons training and everything that goes with it, I'm looking forward to the change of pace.

Except for the fact that I've been reassigned again. Since it was just Jake and I, they sent us to fill other units with vacancies too. The drill sergeant pointed out that this has been one of the worst crops of recruits he remembers, with people dropping left and right, but I have a feeling he says that to everyone. Anyway, there weren't any units with two vacancies, and the sarge was tired of waiting for one to open up, so he just split us and sent us our separate way. Oh well, we're still on the same platoon.

And, yeah, I was serious about University. Why not? I heard Shanxi's got a good one, and it could be a good change of pace if you're still not liking Eden Prime by the time you're done with school.

I'd have done it myself, except that... Well, I just thought I would feel more useful if I joined the army.

Any news on Thomas? He still giving you a hard time? There's gotta be something he likes you can help him with to get on his good side. Have you talked to Carol or Edgar about it?

Okay, lights out time. They really don't leave much time for writing here!

Take care!

Roy.-

It took Shepard a while to realize why she was always looking forward to the messages. It was the little details about the military life. It all looked so... ordered. Whenever Roy complained about the drill sergeant doing this or that, their punishments and whatnot, she could see why they were dished out, what she'd have had to do to avoid them.

She didn't care how bad the punishments were. At least she knew what they were for.

"Come on Thomas, we have to go!" Carol called.

Shepard closed her omni-tool in an instant, by reflex. She felt a little silly, but she didn't want to think what would happen if Carol discovered her messages. It was mostly Roy, and a few of her classmates, but that was it. In truth, she didn't respond as much as everyone seemed to message her.

That made her feel a little bad. Specially in Roy's case, she liked his messages, and yet she always kept her replies short and...

No, no, don't. He's got enough to worry about.

"I can't find my shoes!" Thomas' answer came from upstairs.

"Well hurry up!"

Shepard stood, and the moment she did, Carol turned to her and nailed to her spot with a single glare.

"I was just going to help him..."

"No you don't. He's got to take care of his things," Carol replied, finality in her voice. She didn't yell, or snap, but Shepard knew that tone. She was skirting dangerous territory.

She looked at Edgar, but all he got over his moustache was a glance from his deep-set eyes. He then looked away, and kept pacing, the keys of their transport tingling in his hands. He never said anything in those situations, never defended her, or worse still, his son. He always looked to be in a bad mood, bottled up so tight that he may pop and explode.

Or maybe that was Carol spilling over.

"I can't find them!" Thomas yelled. "Can I put something else on?"

"Thomas Edgar Mathias!" Carol yelled, making Shepard wince. Full names meant things were about to get ugly. "You better find your shoes in the next five minutes!"

Very discreetly, Shepard walked back to the living room, and then sneaked out the back door. She knew the shoes Thomas was looking for, and she remembered having seen them a few days before.

It didn't occur to her at the time just how incredibly overdramatic the whole situation was. Carol was teetering at the edge of one of her meltdowns over a pair of shoes. Shoes.

She hurried up as she heard Carol getting more and more impatient. She felt like she was trying to defuse a bomb as a clock ticked down to total destruction.

"YES!" she finally shouted.

There they were, in the laundry room. Cleaned and shiny. She grabbed them, and rushed out of the room, going straight towards the stairs.

"Lana!" Carol called.

"I found them!" she replied, undeterred. Her voice summoned Thomas, who ran out of his room to stop at the handrail on the top floor.

"I told you not to look for them!" Carol snapped, gesturing towards Thomas. "It's Thomas' responsibility to take care of his things!"

Looking at Thomas' face, Shepard felt a surge of anger in her. The constant barrage that Carol was throwing at him, and the way he always reacted, almost as if he was physically punched, it wore on Shepard's patience. She found herself wanting to confront Carol right then and there.

"He was looking upstairs! How was he going to find them?" Shepard shook the shoes in front of Carol's face. "They were in the laundry!"

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady!" Carol replied, raising her hand and wagging her finger at her. "You have to show us some respect."

Us? Is she really throwing Edgar in this? He doesn't care!

"And what about Thomas?" Shepard retorted, still not fazed. "You-"

Her tirade was interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps, and a door slam. Thomas had, apparently, decided he wasn't going to be caught in the middle of that and beat a hasty retreat.

"Thomas!" both Carol and Shepard called at the same time.

Shepard turned to look at Carol with such a shock on her face that it spilled over to the woman, making her give Shepard a surprised look back. The exchange of looks only lasted a moment, with Carol being the first one to speak.

"Fine, it's fine. If that's how you want to be, that's fine," she said, and as she spoke, she put such overdone defeat in her voice, it made the hair on the back of Shepard's hair stand up. She could never get used to how quickly Carol swapped her moods around.

But this time there was something else. She felt annoyed. Not angry, but annoyed. Usually she'd be trying to figure out how to placate her, but this time she just looked at her, almost daring her to go on.

Deep down, she felt it was incredibly unfair. To Thomas. But what shocked her the most was how both of them had called the boy at the same time. WAs she turning into Carol? She?

"Let's go Edgar, they can stay here if that's what they want," Carol said, and turned around with a sigh.

"But Carol..." Edgar said, only to be silenced by a glare from his wife.

Shepard didn't say a word. She looked at them go, not looking away even when Edgar turned to look at her one last time before leaving and closing the door.

Good riddance.

After that, she stalked up the stairs, and walked up to Thomas' room. The door was closed, again.

"T," she called, knocking on the door. "It's okay, they've gone by themselves." There was no answer, so this time, she insisted. "I'm coming in, okay?"

"Leave me alone!" Thomas shouted as Shepard walked in. He was on his bed, curled up in a way that reminded Shepard a little too much of herself. "Why do you always do that?"

"I... I was just trying to help you. It's not fair that-"

"Don't help me!" he snapped. "You..."

Whatever he was going to say, he seemed to think better of it, and he simply clammed up, looking away and retreating back on his bed. Shocked as she was by the sudden outburst, she took a step towards Thomas, and the boy immediately made a show of turning even further away.

She didn't know what to do. The uncomfortable silence stretched, all while one thought seemed to dominate her mind.

I just can't do anything right...

Author's Notes: So, at first I figured I'd do a bit of time skip ahead to get to some later events, but after I wrote that, I thought I was lacking in context, so I had to go back and write... This chapter.

I hope it wasn't too confusing. It's essentially a collection of e-mails and scenes to change a "Four weeks later..." timeskip into a montage of things happening over four weeks. The idea was not to show everything, but rather show enough that will let you, dear reader, fill in the gaps :)

Next time, more happenings, and probably a more "traditional" chapter!

And of course, thanks a lot for all the reviews! And follows and favourites, woot! And hit over 100 followers!

SeregaKR, I'll be honest, I asked a Russian colleague of mine to come up with a common name for a Russian, but I didn't ask him how to write it, so you're probably right :D I'm leaving the gaffe in so that future reads can come here and see how I screwed up, hehe.

CamFou182, if anything, Roy'll probably want to stop those things from happening. But if they do, expect him to be involved somehow. I mean, if you know a group of soldiers will die in an ambush from Cerberus, you'd want to do something too I bet.

Archer83, for now Roy needs to get himself up to speed, which is going to be a heck of a kick in the nuts for him. You haven't seen anything yet! :D

Mizuki00, yeah, missing Zabaleta happened a lot, not sure why Bioware didn't make him easier to trigger, like all the people they put right in front of the Normandy. Unfortunately, things aren't exactly looking up for Shep quite yet.

In conclusion, bit of an experiment this time. Hope you enjoyed it! And stay tuned for more happenings in the messed-up timeline that is Mass Effect: Divergence!