KIA. Killed in Action.
That didn't match Shepard somehow. The joy burst through me like a flood, but the man was larger than life. He had that aura about him, one that drew people to him. Hell, he made at least 60% if the people he ran into see his point of view. My thoughts turned to Liara. The girl had feelings for him. The blushing aside, the asari never shut up about him during the time we worked together. Shook my head, staring over the Presidium from the walkway across the way from the embassies. KIA... what could have knocked that crazy bastard off like this? He was dead, gone from the universe. After saving the Citadel and revealing the Reapers, the galaxy owed a lot to him. And he still owed me an apology for being such a dick. My head shook, watching the sky change as the afternoon turned into evening. My mind turned the conversation with Anderson and Udina in my head.
"There will be a military funeral for Shepard and the rest of the Normandy crew who did not survive in two days' time, but without a body to put in a coffin, we've placed an empty one inside the Human Religious Grounds. The coffin is in the Neutral Hall, since he never corresponded with a particular religion. You are welcome to attend, Miss Shaik," Anderson said.
My muscles froze, smothering the grin trying to rise, stamping down the surprise trying to drop my jaw. A good day, such a good day at last! After kicking Keplar where it hurt and the other asshole who tormented me had left this universe too, this day couldn't get any better. My lips pressed together as the two men awaited my decision. My restraint held as my mind considered the question more seriously. Attending wasn't smart. It would be a funeral of massive proportions. The hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre, hero of Elysium. People would expect kind words. They would find me dancing on top of the goddam coffin. No, that was something they could keep me out of. Staying on the Citadel that long wasn't on my agenda.
"Thank you, sir, I'll... think about it," I said, deciding vagueness was preferable to outright refusal. Under the circumstances, these men thought must've though Shepard was a close friend like everyone else on the crew.
"This is a shock, we understand. However we need to plan for the future. Perhaps we can arrange a proposition. We must continue Shepard's legacy, to give hope to the people of the galaxy," Udina said. Anderson scowled.
"Councillor Udina, we've just informed her that her friends are dead and you wish to make a proposition?" Anderson asked. Udina graced him with a hard stare.
"Despite all that has happened, Captain, we must remember Shepard's warnings. If these Reapers will arrive to destroy us, we must put plans in action," Udina turned to me. My face straightened. He did not understand what the Reapers would do, could do. Neither did I to be fair. "Shaik, I have heard rumours about you over the past few weeks. Both C-Sec and the salarian STG commend you. We do not know your reasons for wishing to leave but now, we must preserve the legacy left by Shepard. Already the Council are trying to smother Shepard's warnings about the Reapers. They are whispering about disbanding the surviving Normandy crew. We wish to put a new team together, made from the old. We must investigate these Reapers to convince the council they exist," My expression blinked, a blank look, at Udina. While it made sense, and may help me with my Reaper problem, 'Shepard's legacy' could continue without me. He was dead, let him stay dead. My eyes skimmed over the letter and dog tags in Anderson's hands.
"I am sorry ambass... Councillor," I corrected myself. "But I've already taken up a position elsewhere. The training will... it will help focus me," I said.
"You are certain? We can arrange a promotion-" Udina pressed. My head shook.
"I have made my decision," I answered with more force. "Councillor, Captain," My hand raised to salute. I turned on my heel and evacuated the room before they redrafted me or something. My role with them was done, and there was no intention of going back.
My eyes fixed to the sky as my next plan formed. Once free from the embassies, a private cheer cried out. With my last remaining credits, a celebration was in order. Maybe some good food before re-joining the STG. But that funeral would be a pain in the ass. I'd be lost in the mass of people at the funeral, or Udina may drag me to the front as a member of the Normandy. He may even make me give a speech about him, sprout 'happy' stories of the mad pyromaniac. My tongue stuck out, under the gaze of thousands, they'd force me to say nice things. Even though my MIA caused me to miss the crucial last few missions. My thoughts turned to the remaining crew, the ones who had been nice to me. Would they be happy to see me, to know what I was alive? They knew after seeing me on Noveria but had lost me after that. They adored Shepard, what if they tried to pull my arm into joining something?
My moan filled the air, tossing up my desire to stay away from the whole thing but wishing to support those who close to me. It would be disrespectful not to go and a few choice words for the asshole remained. My tongue clucked. Maybe I could go earlier, tell him to fuck off and leave the station. Well, the empty coffin anyway, same thing. Besides, who knows how many people Shepard touched, the area could be filled with mourners. With his fame, security would be tight, not many would get near the empty coffin. My dog tags no longer in hand, making it harder for me to get into the area to begin with. My hand scrubbed my face, I didn't want to go to a funeral regardless. Two days...
No, I wanted off the Citadel before then. Fine, let's see how easy access was to the coffin. If it was quiet and they let people in, he'd receive my well wishes to burn in hell. Wait, he might enjoy that… fuck, I'll think of something else. If they didn't let people in, then that was the end of that. A frown grew as my eyes stared at the sky grow darker. My omni-tool lit up as my eyes skimmed through the barrage of read messages. My fingers touched 'Compose', ready to tell Mat'al that it was time for pickup. It was time to return to the STG, to get more training under my belt. It railed Nyryntha that they taught me to defend myself. Anything that upset the Reaper was good in my books.
After sending the message, my next job was to check my credit balance. After seeing the balance, my mind kicked itself, saying it should have asked for some extra credits for food and a hotel. Yeah, screw it, the money was for my survival. My fingers tapped a quick message to Mat'al asking for some money, hoping the whole thing sounded sheepish and apologetic. My shoulders stretched as my arms pushed me away from the banister, taking in the sight of the Presidium one last time. Who knew how long it would be before my eyes laid sights upon it again. To return to that giant white room… well, there was only so much the white walls could entertain me. The galaxy felt brighter knowing Commander John Shepard could no longer hurt me. I should speak with Garrus, Liara, Wrex or Tali before leaving, if they were on the Citadel or not. Screw the other two humans, Ashley was a snappy bitch while Kaiden kept looking down his nose at me with vague snide comments. A groan escaped as the logistics of trying to find them materialised. Maybe it was easier to send a message. The Councillor never said who lived, who died and who left the Normandy prior to this.
A plan formed in my head as the elevator whisked me away. If Mat'al send me money, these Alliance clothes were getting the dump. They itched to hell and back. My fingers punched in the elevator button, waiting for it to climb up to me. Who survived the crash, none of the details were known. Had it been a malfunction and crash landing? No, they didn't have Shepard's body, nothing like that. Had they been attacked? Possible, Udina said the Normandy had been 'destroyed'. The elevator freed me into the wards. It'd be all over the news or something. Maybe a better idea of who still lived would form then.
Walking out of the elevator ceased any thoughts about the funeral or crew. My priority was getting myself sorted for the night. My eyes glanced to my omni-tool, browsing to my credit value. The number on the screen snapped my head down. Well, at least Mat'al was prompt. My eyes skimmed at a clothes shop as it passed, frowning at the prices. Yeah, this close to the Presidium, the prices would be astronomical. The more… reasonable prices were further down. It took hours to think of everything needed before leaving the Citadel. There was equipment back on the STG station but a few extra things without Mat'al breathing down my back wouldn't hurt. It also gave me an opportunity to assess the fashion changes since my time. They wouldn't be worn by me any time soon, that was for sure. Dammit, what was it with holes around the belly area? Well, at least they decided skirts were too short and lengthened them. After the shopping experience was complete, a backpack secured over my shoulders carried everything for travelling and enough spare clothes to last 5 days without smelling. The money also bought me a few books – digital of course – to keep me company during the long nights.
Once done, night had fallen over the Citadel. The stars danced above me through the neon pollution soaking every orifice of the Citadel Wards. The lights and sound, the Citadel stirring awake. I wandered down a boulevard, flowing with people. I was aiming for the Human Religious Grounds, but the way towards it stole my fucks I gave about meeting an empty coffin. The squeals of the sky cars above, the rumble of footsteps and a thousand people talking. And so many different races, such vast differences in culture, all brought together in a single place. The air vibrated with life. I had felt nothing like this, not in Glasgow, not even in London. Well, to be fair, the rule in London was 'Head down, walk through everyone you see'. It was true here to a certain extent, but with the workday done, the night ravers poured free to swell the streets. No, I had experienced this. The Edinburgh Fringe festival. God, the Royal Mile swelled like a hoard
The swollen crowd eased behind me as my feet carried me down a small street. The area was more or less abandoned of life. Few people required their deity when partying. Unless you were hoping to score, then may God, the Spirits and the Goddess guide your way. My progress paused the mouth of the street, opening out into a square plaza. Buildings lined every side of the square with just a few streets jutting in to join it. The open space was huge, my legs struggled to cover the distance. My attention ignored the flowers in the beds and digital trees to bring colour to the area. My eyes danced to stare at the symbols around me, engraved into the different buildings. The Christian Cross, the Star of David, the Crescent and Star, the Buddhist Wheel. Most of them were familiar of them, even if the name escaped me. Although there were symbols that were foreign to me. One of them may have been for the Flying Spaghetti Monster. The place held no guards of any description and the square was quiet, devoid of people. Maybe they hadn't told the galaxy of Shepard's fate? A frown formed as my attention turned to the building in the middle, the one that held no symbol. This must be the neutral grounds. The Greek temple-like building was bland, eyes glancing around me to see if anyone would come and stop me. None did for there was no one here. The doors pushed open.
The empty church echoed, a lone phantom in a darkened hall. My throat clenched, ignoring the goose bumps on my arms. A few candles lit the room, lighting the way down the aisle towards the metal coffin in the back. My gaze slid past the shadows around me as my feet shuffled down the passageway towards the coffin. It was just a box. An empty box of nothing. There was no such thing as zombies… well, there were husks but- Oh Dell, why do you think these things?! My head shook hard, swallowing the souring taste in my mouth. As the coffin drew closer, the black, white and red N7 engraved into the lid became clear. It shone like polished chrome. I ascended the stairs.
Other people had beaten me to the punch. The sight made me pause. Surrounding the floor of the coffin, flowers galore, written cards and wreaths. And several dog tags. My knees lowered me down, eyes staring at the array of metal chips glinting in the candle light. My eyes studied the names, careful not to disturb them too much. Most were not familiar, old friends or brothers-in-arms. Garrus' were here though, the turian insignia, shaped like their ships in profile. Garrus had been here already? So… So he hadn't been on the Normandy? My appearance had surprised Anderson and Udina at the embassy. That meant they hadn't recovered the survivors yet. Garrus must've left earlier than the rest of the crew. The tags were placed back in place. So many people regarded Shepard as a hero. How many people knew who he was…or was he a nice guy and loved to torment me?
"Well, about time you kicked the bucket, you empty box," I said, straightening, eyes on the N7 insignia. "If they had got your body back, I doubt I would be this pleasant," My face scrunched up. It sounded weird, talking to an empty box. Regardless of what it signified. "Well, Shepard. I'm the weak little scientist you knew. I hope you had your fun torturing me the last couple of weeks I was on the Normandy. If I ever see your face again, I'll kick it in," I said, glowering at the box, bitterness clouding my judgement. A snort released before turning and walking down the stairs.
My muscles froze when a shadow in the door caught my eye. Keplar stood by the doors. He leaned on the back rows of benches, eyebrows drawn down with eyes wide. My eyes glanced down to see a pistol peer through the gloom. A long tube poked out the barrel. My mouth dried as he pushed himself off, sucking in large puffs of air. My feet reached the bottom of the stairs, eyes fixated on the man before me. From here, the faint whiff of alcohol, but if the smell was down here already, how much he had drunk? Why was he here, why was he armed? How did he find me? My fingers twitched, aching for a gun in my hand. The Carnifex and Locust tucked away in my bag. Any attempt to get them would require time and unless some cover was found...
"Did you never learn to respect the dead?" Keplar said, lowering his hands down to his sides. He was swaying and his speech slurred. My expression remained static, but the blood pounding my eardrum only mimicked the tension rising through me.
"Sure, but I was taught to treat those as they treat you. He treated me like shit, as did you," I said, trying to straighten my spine. Keplar's harsh laugh danced off the walls. He danced on the brink of madness. Deep breaths, Dell, just breathe. He can't hurt you. Well, he had a gun, and was drunk, and seemed to have lost his mind. My attempts to smother the rising terror failed. "What are you doing here, Keplar? I'm no longer part of the Alliance,"
"Ah, but that's just the problem, my dear," he growled, walking towards me with his lips turning down. My shoulders quivered, resisting the urge to step backwards. Until my guns were in my hand, there wasn't much on hand to use as defence. My omni-tool could still help me. My lungs sucked in a breath as a finger readied a finger to summon Marshal. If he responded with violence to me trying to attack him, there was no telling how much damage he would cause. My hand-to-hand skills were… lacking. Nothing improved them, despite Mat'al's best attempts. Keplar reached out and grabbed me by the t-shirt, yanking me towards him. A yelp escaped, but it died when the muzzle of the pistol slammed under my jaw. My eyes widened, a trembling overcoming me as the ache dulled every sane thought.
"Y-You wouldn't kill me... here?" I breathed. I would have said church, but this wasn't one. Keplar's pupils dilated, the whites dominating his eyes. He was snarling at me. My head wheeled from the stench of drink on his breath. My omni-tool powered up to summon Marshal. He shoved me against a pew, grabbing my wrist, freeing a yelp from me. He yanked the bracelet off, tossing it down the aisle. The gun still aimed at my brain. My eyes followed the bracelet as it rolled away from me to clatter near the stairs.
"Because of you, because of your refusal to just hand those fucking reports in like a good fucking girl, I am on the brink of losing everything!" he roared. "Alliance brass wanted results, wanted to know what was wrong. And then everyone else turned on me! I'll be court marshalled because of you!" The gun pressed deeper under my jaw. My back trembled, shadows creeping into the edges of my vision.
"B-But it-it was y-your own f-fault. Y-You shouldn't h-have stolen m-my reports-" I said. The shaking wouldn't stop. There was no way to fight, my hand-to-hand would get me killed. He was too drunk to calm down. He had a gun, preventing me from running.
"Your reports?! You worked for me! I owned you!" he screeched. The gun click. The safety was off. My knees couldn't hold me, eyes shrinking to focus on the maddening eyes. "Those reports are therefore mine! And you DESTROYED THEM!" His words made me wince, too afraid to grab him in case he fired.
"K-Kep-pl-pla-ar, p-ple-plea-se!" I tried. The shaking overpowered me, my voice failed. Dammit, Dell, pull yourself together! Can't run, can't talk him down, can't do anything! Fight, fight him, there was no other way! The look of hatred in his eyes drove any idea of resisting out my head. Poor, little Endellion, unable to defend herself from her own shadow was back. Without a weapon, my defences evaporated. Why was no one here!? Why was I alone?!
"That's right. Beg. Beg like the filthy animal you are!" He removed the gun, but shoved me to the ground hard enough to jar my vision. A scream released, a poor attempt to attract someone's attention when he grabbed my head, crouching before me. His knee pressed my shoulders into the ground. My hair hid his face from view see his face, but the barrel of a gun was clear. My hand grabbed his wrist, tried to fight him. "You are a fucking dog to do my bidding!" he yanked his hand away, slamming the butt into my skull. A gurgle rose, eyes rolling in my head. He leaned down to my ear, his breathing in hard rasps. "You will redo those reports, you will be a good girl and listen to what I fucking tell you to!" he snapped. He yanked my head by the hair, tearing pieces loose. He smashed my head on the stone floor. My vision swam, my skull crack. My voice froze in my throat.
"Are you going to do as you told? Hmm? Little bitch!" he snarled, smashing my head into the ground again. Tears stained my cheeks. My body tried to wriggle under him to free myself. Shadows crawled deeper long my vision until it blinded me. He growled, raising the pistol to my thigh. My scream sounded over the bang as a bullet tore through the muscle, the bang muffled by the silencer. "Are you!?"
Everything went blank then. A white haze fell over me like a bed sheet. My lungs stuttered for breath, every muscle taut. Everything felt like it was floating, lost in zero-gravity. My emotions rattled, My thoughts refused to organise, nothing made sense. Memories stuttered by like damage video tapes. No sensations, no pain, no emotion just... nothing. Thought was difficult... it was impossible to recall what had been happening moments ago. My mind struggled, fought through the haze trapping me. A... argument? Y-Yeah, there had been arguing with someone. I was...afraid? Was I? I... Where was I? What was happening?! No, where the hell was I?! This wasn't right! A robotic rattle sounded before an answer came.
"I am collecting a debt," the voice rang, monotone. It crackled in and out of understanding, as if struggling. "Your code must be... rewritten, Shell. You fight... too much,"
Shell? But the only things that called me Shell was-
My eyes blinked, straining in the darkness. My vision cleared, trying to make sense of the shadows as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The closed doors of a hall greeted me. A look backwards confirmed this was the temple looking place, the N7 coffin behind me. There was no sign of anyone else. A frown formed. My skin felt... strange. It tingled, strange sensations danced along my skin. Why did I… My eyes turned down. My eyes burst in their sockets, blood draining from my body.
Keplar's remains – for there wasn't enough to call a corpse – lay scattered before me, strewn across the room with a sea of blood running down between the aisles of the hall. My legs stumbled backwards as wires as thick as my index and middle finger combined reeled themselves back into my palms. Small, claw like wires flicked at the ends, scattering droplets of blood and strands of flesh. My skin swallowed them and the cables vanished. My eyes gawked at the ripped remains before me, at the blood, at the smell. Bile rose, my throat gagged at the ripped remains. The sight of so much blood... he was beyond recognisable! My body trembled, my knees gave way. I landed with a splash of blood and muscle. It squelched beneath me. My eyes turned to my hands, gaping at the splatters of blood, no, the coating of blood, over the Alliance uniform. My eyes lifted to stare at the bloodied gun in the middle of a pile of intestine.
I had murdered Arnold Keplar.