AN: Hey guys, welcome - you landed here, so my vague synopsis was so far at least catchy enough to make you click it, hehe. So if you're new, I'd appreciate it if you'd take a few moments for my overview:

What the story NOT is:

- a tight-ass serious recap of the game's events
- a third person view thing
- a show-off in perfect writing or perfect English
- featuring characters, that are always 100% *true*
- stuffed with scenes so incredibly awesome, creative and passionate that they always leave you utterly thrilled or hilariously amused (or with wet pants at that)

If it would be, I would happily change my line of work.

But what the story IS:

- an imperfect, first person, two POV (switch indicator: ~V~) sometimes thrashy road trip to the dark side of my deranged humor
- roughly following the game (ME2 + ME3) but with *I hope* quite some new ideas and shots at smoothing over the worst plot holes
- featuring two issue-ladden heroes fighting side by side along a path filled with anguish, blood, violence and oh-so-sweet love
- straightly coming from my twisted little heart. Always.

Don't forget to check out my chapter songs every once in a while.

I hope you will enjoy the ride as much as I do.

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Update July 16/24: Chapter 25 done
ahahaha with merely a delay of over one year I finally uploaded a brand new chapter... I'm a hopeless case.

Update September 04/22: Chapter 24 done
Oh my can you believe it? The stories 10th anniversary has come a few days ago *facepalm*
I tried to upload it then, just to boost my own spirits (because seriously, what reader has that kind of patience?) but, yeah, life. Nuff said.

Update September 25: Chapter 23 done
Fucking finally. All brand new chapter online :D

Update July 28: Chapter 22 done
Big ass overhaul, plus new content.

Update July 16: Chapter 21 done
Big ass overhaul, plus new content.

Update June 25: Chapter 20 done
Mostly polish and transitions. Some more details and feels.

Update June 23: Chapter 19 done
Notes: Polish and transitions. Lots of tenacious research to straighten out the timelines.
All new dialogs between Shep and Anderson.

Update May 21: yet another overhaul….
To celebrate the release of the Legendary Edition, I decided to breathe some new life into this zombie. I don't know why but somehow I can't finish without having the loose ends fixed. Seems like a curse. Forgive me.
Again I fixed style, dialog, transitions, mood…. Also added a new aspects here and there. All in all it's a much much smoother read now

Unfortunately my work does not leave me with much spare time, so I honestly gave up on having a fixed date in mind to finish. BUT finish I WILL.

Always, let me know your thoughts. Especially if you think it sucks. Only then can I get better :-)

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Last but not least: I want to give my special thanks and a big hug to RevolvingAbyss, whose efforts, dedication and incredible belief in my abilities constantly spurs me to push my limits! Without you, I would have quitted a long time ago. Thank you :)

*All things belonging Bioware, belong Bioware. But the insanity is my own.*

+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+

Fight me now once again,
With all your pride and magnificence
Feel the strength that I possess
Activated by your arrogance
Draw the line
Draw the line

Consider me your worst enemy
This breaking point is mine to defeat,
Prepare to fall
Prepare to fall!

Trail of Tears – Eradicate

Prologue ~ Madman's Mantra

Death.

Is it really the final end? Or rather as society wants us to believe just a stopover; a shifting point that would merely lead us to some different kind of existence?

Guess I still haven't made up my mind on that specific point, despite that she was – as for every soldier – an ever present companion since I entered the turian military at fifteen. She? Yes. I might not be particularly spiritual, but on those days it was just all too easy to picture death as some female deity like the drell do. Well, minus the excessive flowery poetics – which are an inapt obsession for any heterosexual male; regardless his species.

You see, death is hardly about equality or inevitability; let alone finding peace in dark tranquility beneath the wings of some benevolent goddess. Or – to cite the drell once more – waiting for your beloved one across the sea. It's about cynicism in its purest form; a cruel joke, a shot in the back when you're the most vulnerable, delivered with the unforgiving precision of a first-rate marksman. A relentless hunter prowling the outskirts of your life, just waiting to snatch away those you care for the moment you stopped looking.

Very feminine if you ask me, but perhaps that's just my own prejudiced opinion.

I sound bitter? You have no blasted idea. In truth things were already going sour the day I'd returned to a hellishly short-staffed C-Sec – and trust me I'd wrestled with the decision on more sleepless nights than I'd like to admit. But in the end it had been that one confident voice, constantly appealing to my sense of duty; so damn sure of my abilities that tipped the scale.

More. That voice… it filled me with pride; and with it came that unshakable certainty that I would finally be able to rebel against the system somehow – I was, after all, one of the heroes who had saved the Citadel.

Well… I really should have known better.

And so the bitter truth caught up with me real quick: nothing had changed. C-Sec was still hamstrung by red tape and would always be, business had returned to its usual pace even before Tayseri Ward stopped burning, while the Council was doing the one thing they truly excelled at: glossing over. Evidence vanished down the archives' vaults and slowly but surely the perception of events changed. But I grinded my teeth and held on; because that confident voice, the voice of a friend, had convinced me that it was the damn right thing to do.

Day by day by day.

Until the news came in.

And just like that the Normandy – the stunning evidence of how far interspecies collaboration could bring us – was no more. As was her unique crew. And her Commander.

With the loudest and most inconvenient opposition gone, the Council had no scruples to morph the attacker from gigantic alien space ship into geth vessel in short order. They didn't even care that it was almost twice the size of any known geth dreadnought. And everybody just believed. No questions asked.

My frustration turned into anger.

Anger at the Council's lack of interest in the truth. Anger at all the injustice out there and that everybody expected me to sit on my hands doing nothing but watch. Anger at losing yet another friend to death's voracious claws.

Each day my ire grew, a simmering pressure that tugged and gnawed on me until finally one thought became paramount: get the fuck out.

But why the World without Law? Did a part of me actually think the "Black Citadel" to be the lesser, albeit the more honest, of two evils? Well, yes and no. Above all I believed that here I wouldn't care. That while hunting society's worst scum and reveling in a much darker side of myself, I would finally stop sensing the increasing exasperation that had infested my mind.

I was wrong.

While Garrus Vakarian fell deeper, Archangel climbed out from the abyss. The blood of the despicable soaked the streets and it felt good. So fucking good. I once more had a purpose, a team, and yet… There I was, finally living my selfish little dream, enforcing the real justice I'd wanted for so long – and my restlessness grew even worse.

By day I was a fierce and deadly vigilante. By night a pathetic and embittered outcast. Orbits passed. Weeks. Months. And I? I just stumbled through this limbo; too weak to shed the ghosts of my past, too proud to banish these new demons that pushed me away from the white side ever further.

I had lost my way.

And as long as I still hungered for this taste of a life that could and would never be again, I would never be free. It was – and to hell with poetics – a true epiphany. All my glorious misery compacted into this one crystal clear moment when I finally accepted and was ready to move on.

And the next?

The next I barreled through the hole explosives had ripped into our hideout's wall, right into the carnage waiting for me – and I swear I could hear her laughing in triumph. Death had done it again; but this time she stabbed me in the back and ripped away everything.

And in tragic irony I had to realize that out of the dozen names and monikers there was only one truly befitting Sahrabarik's degenerated space station: the human name.

Omega.

The ultimate end of everything.

This the dulled, gunmetal orbs drove home with relentless clarity. I wanted to look away but couldn't. The soulless gaze bound me; trapped me in this terrible nightmare that unfolded around me. But this time, there would be no wake-up to break its grip. An eternity passed; and bit by bit I forced myself into memorizing another detail of Mierin's beautiful face.

The end of everything.

Eventually, my vision blurred and I allowed myself to blink.

I was still kneeling in the small room we had turned into our makeshift armory in one of Omega's shabby apartments. I tore my eyes away from the slim turian body I cradled in my arms, only to look at the bulk of a krogan corpse. That's right. Another slaughtered friend, left to drown in the puddle of his own orange blood.

And the rage boiled up anew.

They were all dead.

Mierin. Grundan Krul. Erash. Monteague. Sidonis.

Each name brought another searing slash, and I soaked in the anguish; allowed it to bite deep and leave its mark on my soul.

Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver. Melanis.

Because ultimately it was the much-valued turian pride, they paid for with their lives.

My pride.

I took a deep breath. Struggled for composure. Elusive, but I needed to move. It wasn't save here. The killer commando would be back soon; looking for me. I brushed Mierin's cheek for the last time then closed her eyes, mumbling a short prayer for her Spirit to find home.

Some customs died hard.

Numb I got up. Ghosted across the damaged room; sidestepping debris and parts of the ceiling; each step hardening the new wall against the grief that churned inside. Yes. Focus. The attackers hadn't left much to chance with those explosives. I kneeled at the air vent next to the weapon bench and ripped the grille away to fish out an canvas bag filled with ammo. As expected it had escaped the detonation and the raiders due to Monteague's increasing paranoia. Turns out the crazy little human biotic had been right all along…

I shouldered my gear and walked over to Grundan Krul. I pulled out the chain that always dangled around the krogan's neck, then freed the small carved piece of bone and put it in my pocket. Making good on that promise was definitely a long long shot, but you never know. This Spirit would certainly find a way to make my life even more miserable if I wouldn't try.

With a new surge of determination I straightened.

They'll all pay; with their blood, with their pain, with their lives.

I pulled out my knife from its sheath on my calf and nicked my forearm with the tip. Blue welled up and a few drops trickled to the floor before I clenched my fist with a wordless snarl.

By my honor, by my blood, this I swear…

I stepped through the door and to the rest of my team; some killed by the explosion, the others in their attempt to defend their lives.

And in my head, the madman's mantra started anew:

Mierin. Grundan Krul. Erash. Monteague. Sidonis.

Wait.

Suddenly a realization hit me, its impact as nauseating as a sledgehammer punch to the gut. There were eleven names… But only ten bodies.

It begged just one question: where the hell was Sidonis?