Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Revalations	By : Nobody206 Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 5062 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or Mass Effect 2 and make no profit from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Revalations
- 2-Resignation
- 1
- 2
Oh wow, so it's only been 2.5 years since I posted a chapter. :| Can I blame it on no internet? No? Oh well, here's the next installment. Hope y'all enjoy!!
--------------------------------------------------------------
Oh Spirits.
Her head ached with a fierce pounding. Her face burned with pain and her chest screamed in agony. Her legs and arms seemed too large and too muscular for her own body.
Wake up Commander.
Like Hell she was going to rise out of the dark. It was painful enough where she was. She liked the dark well enough anyway. Comfort was a luxury she did not have most of the time.
Shepard, do you hear me?
Well duh. Why would she be trying to ignore the voice penetrating through the dark if she couldn’t hear it. Regardless of her wants, she felt herself being unwillingly pulled out of the dark, like a rope was wrapped around her chest and pulling her up into the light. A loud noise rocked her on the rope out of the dark.
Get out of that bed now.
What bed? she couldn’t help but think, though as soon as she thought it, she felt cool metal press against her apparently bare arms and the same hard, chilled substance pressing into her body, though the temperature was some-what muted where clothing acted as a barrier. Another loud noise (an explosion, she categorized) rocked her and the table, sending a chill down her spine.
“This facility is under attack.”
So it wasn’t a voice in her head. Her eyes fluttered open slightly, only to be blinded by the lights hanging above her. Pain lanced her face and she reached to feel her jaw, pondering in a disconnected way whether or not a Krogan had punched her or if she had simply gotten pistol whipped in the face.
“Shepard, your scars aren’t healed but I need you to get moving.”
The urgency in that female voice had her sitting up, her will and self control withering as an onslaught of pain threatened to consume her. She grasped her side, her body tensing as she sat up, and released an involuntary grunt of pain.
“This facility is under attack.”
Facility? That didn’t sound right. She searched through her memories, attempting to find where she had been transported to a facility. The weight of the attack settled on her mind as explosions rocked the area she was in. Fire raged outside the glass in whatever lab she sat in, electrical sparks shooting from damaged wires. Gun shots sparked across her vision, though whether they hit their intended targets, she knew not. A quick sweeping glace of her surroundings told her where the exit was, though from what she could see, no weapons were handy.
“There’s a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!”
Apparently this woman thought along the same lines as she did. A small smirk graced her lips, pressing through the pain as she swung off the metal bed. She staggered upright, biting the inside of her lips to prevent any more audible cries of pain. She focused dimly through the haze of pain and limped over to the locker, wrenching it open and pulling out a set of N7 armor. She pulled the leggings over her black and white pants before pulling the vest over her head. She snapped the locks in place, wincing when they pinched her breasts. Gritting her teeth and wishing she had her average grade sports bra with her, she snapped the greaves into place, almost shouting her frustration when they too did not fit. She pulled her boots and sleeves on before snapping her arm plates into their proper place. She quickly slid her helmet on before grabbing the pistol. Her temper was chaffed another notch as she noticed the pistol required clips and had none in it’s slot. As if she needed anything more than ill-fitting armor and a demanding woman (she refused to think of a woman who was trying to save her life as “bitch”) barking order that she hurry up.
It was all three of these things that had her snarling “This pistol doesn’t have a thermal clip.” She vaguely recalled that the galactic standard on weapons was considering switching to this method. Apparently in the time she’d been out, they had, for whatever perverse reason.
Sass and stress was in the woman’s voice as she responded. “It’s a Med Bay. We’ll get you a thermal clip from- damn it!” Confusion swept through Shepard right before she started speaking again “Those canisters by the door are going to blow!”
Her eyes flicked apathetically to the canisters as the woman’s voice urged her to seek cover. Then her steady coaching pricked a nerve and although she felt a sharp stab of pain, Truce Shepard slid into cover behind one of the glass walls surrounding some piece of medical equipment just as the tanks exploded, sending shrapnel and dust into the air. She covered her mouth in anticipation of coughing, only to realize that the filters on her suit were working perfectly. While it was ill fitting, it was obviously highly maintained.
“Some one’s hacking security, trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip for your pistol.” Shepard rolled her eyes, practically glaring into space. She’d already found a clip and was clapping it into the pistol, muttering darkly about the things she would do to the humanoid responsible for changing plasma ammunition into thermal clips. As for a person trying to kill her? What was new? First the slum children on Earth (she had the scars to prove she’d been in knife fights), then the Batarians on Torfan., then Saren the Turian under Soverign’s control and now mechs? Mechs, she could handle, blindfolded with both of her hands tied behind her back and a busted weapon. A reassuring clack sounded in her ears as she loaded the clip into the pistol, reminding her of her Sergent and mentor during her days in training. The feel of an ancient gun in her hand, firing round after round before clicking dejectedly as the magazine was emptied. He had always demanded that she acknowledge her roots, not only as a human being but also as Truce Shepard.
“Looks like they set up a barricade to try holding the mechs off.” Shepard growled under her breath, thoroughly fed up with the woman over the loud speaker. She lept the jumble of boxes, sliding right behind another one as shots fired behind her. “Look out!” the woman shouted unhelpfully, causing Shepard’s trigger finger to twitch. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned over the crate, firing once into the mech in front of her, blasting it’s head off and sending sparks flying into the air as it collapsed.
“Keep moving. We need to get you to the shuttles.” Shepard ground her teeth together in a mildly audible fashion. This woman was starting to piss her off. She was not a rookie fresh out of basic. Shepard launched herself over the top of the crate, landing gracefully in a crouch. She stood, holding the borrowed pistol at attention. She glided up the stairs in front of her, pausing only to snag the thermal clip and slip it into a pocket on her bicep. She took the next set of stairs slowly once more, unwilling to be ambushed in a place that she wasn’t sure of the layout. She backed up against a door and quickly darted around to key the lock and open the door.
“Shepard! Security mechs are closing in on your position. Take cover.” She was unwilling to admit that the woman might be useful for something and slid into cover just as the doors slid open. “Don’t take any chances! Stay in cover while you take out those mechs.” Another growl erased her grudging admission to herself as she shot four mechs, once again severing the necks, causing them to collapse into shuddering, sparking heaps on the floor. “Nice work Shepard.” Well, at least she sounded mildly impressed. “Coast is clear.”
Shepard stood, noticing her knees didn’t pop like they normally did. Most of the cartilage had been carved out of her left knee, “for fun” as the gang members torturing her had said. She had won that day, but it still wasn’t a pleasant sensation, having one bone grind against another. Oh well... To more pressing matters. Her brow furrowed momentarily before checking her shield recharge and dashing to the open door in front of her, pressing against the wall and peaking around to try and prevent any more surprises. Grim resolution crossed her face as she looked through an obviously thick piece of glass. Fire raged, licking the heels of human and machine forms. She felt a strong urge to see if she could break the glass and help those dieing just beyond her reach. As if sensing this, the bossy woman barked out “Don’t waste time, I can’t keep the mechs distracted for long.” Shepard rolled her eyes.
She sprinted her way through another door, checking around the corner quickly, her sharp green eyes missing nothing: a door in front and down a level, a wall to the left, a cargo elevator to the right and a large hunk of metal almost directly in front of her. “More reinforcements coming your way.”
Shepard was practically drooling as she lifted the rocket launcher off of a dead body. A feral smile spread across her lips. She checked the body and pulled 3 shells off of the dead flesh. She checked the chamber, noticing one laying in there, just begging to be fired. Shepard, like any gun nut would, cooed to the launcher while her hands expertly examined it. “Here come the mechs.” Worry flavored the woman’s almost deadpan, serious voice. Shepard cocked the heavy weapon and aimed it directly at the door, her finger itching and worrying the trigger. The door spread open, three mechs crowding into the semi-narrow doorway. Shepard pulled the trigger, a millisecond later, her ears and eyes were assaulted.
Commander Truce Shepard, Commanding officer on the SSV Normandy, leader of the assault on Saren, defeater of Geth and destroyer of Sovereign, did NOT squeal like a teenage girl. Unfortunately, there’s always a first time for everything. It took all of Truce Shepard’s will power to keep from jumping up and down in glee along with squealing shrilly, albeit quietly. There was NOTHING like this in the Alliance military. She pondered momentarily, her musing interrupted by the woman telling her to take the elevator down a level. What else was the point of an elevator? She ran to the elevator, waving her hand over the controls, her omni-tool activating the lift, taking her down exactly one floor like the woman had barked (though, since there wasn’t another floor accessible from the elevator, what was the point?) and dashed through a wall of fire, the other woman’s shouts of warning spurring her through faster. It really wouldn’t do to get caught on fire.
“You’re doing great Shepard. “ As if she needed any coaching. “Head to the -” Well shit. Static interrupted the oh-so helpful woman, cutting off most of her words. “....meet you...” and “ Shep-... hear me... I’ve got.. position.” was about all Shepard got out of the garbled mess.
“Well, you were the one wishing for silence and said you could do it on your own,” she murmured, rubbing her face plate in frustration, “Way to stick your foot in your mouth Truce.”
She passed her omni-tool over the door in front of her, opening one door and then another. Two mechs crawled away from her pathetically, attempting to reach discarded, though full clips on the ground. Two pistol shots resounded and two mechanical bodies lay still until someone saw fit to repair the damage. Her eyes spied an open computer console and a few clicks of the mouse had a message playing. She furrowed her brow in mild confusion, but committed it to memory, hoping that someone would explain why she was on an operating table on a non-Alliance station.
“Continuing on,” she muttered, turning back down the corridor and jogging up a set of stairs. For some reason, even though she was running more then she did in basic, Shepard wasn’t even remotely tired. Physically at least. She turned at the top of the stairs instinctively, just in time to see a man pounding on one of the thick panes of glass splatter from a heavy mech’s missile. Her eyes widened in shock, her brain trying to process another death. The only thing holding onto her pistol was years of military training keeping her fist clenched tightly. She clacked another thermal clip form the chamber and loaded one from the pack on her armor in.
She methodically wiped her brow, turning away from the window and opening the next door in her path with single minded numbness and her pistol drawn. Light, a balcony, and pistol shots greeted her. The first she noticed was the symbol on the uniform he wore as he half turned to her, his mouth moving in stunned speech. The second thing she noticed was that he was surrounded by mechs. The third thing she noticed was that his suit was ripped, his shields were on their last recharge and that there was blood flecked over the glass.
Determined to save one person in this hell-hole of a lab that she was beginning to despise with the full depth of her being, she slid into the glass walling of the balcony and leaned back into cover. She leaned out of cover, firing four shots, blasting two of the three mechs into the wall, leaving nothing but scrap metal in front of her. He put a bullet into the last one and ducked beside her, out of breath.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were still a work in progress.” Awe, fear, and respect played out in the man’s voice and on his face. Irritation set in. He acted like SHE was supposed to know. Her retort was sharper than she intended it.
“I just woke up! You probably know more than I do.” She glared at him coldly, her green eyes attempting to stab into his chocolate brown. Why he expected her to know what was going on, she didn’t know, but it irritated her more than the bossy-woman-over-the-loudspeaker.
“Right! Sorry ‘bout that.” She gauged his response, trying to decipher if he was saying it truthfully or if it was just to shut her up. “I’m Jacob Taylor. I’ve been stationed here for-”
“Hostiles detected.” She snarled. Spirits cursed mechs.
The man, Jacob, cursed as a shot hit the railing where his head had peaked over just a few moment ago. He appraised her, as if looking for cuts and flaws, and unsure if she was really the famous Truce Shepard. Whatever decision he made, he didn’t reveal it, instead saying “Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda’s got you running around. I’ll fill you in, but we better get you to the shuttle first.”
“It’s your station Jacob... I’ll follow you.” Oh how much those words damaged her pride. She had to consent however. This wasn’t the time or place to talk about such things while mechs roamed around trying to kill any humanoid in sight. That and she had no idea which way was up in this damned station.
“First Step: Let’s finish off these metal bastards.” She liked the way he thought. “We’re low on thermal clips, but I’m a biotic.” He smirked ever so slightly and she couldn't help but return the smirk. Biotics were pretty damn helpful when it came to low ammo. “Just give the order when you want me to hit ‘em with the good stuff.”
He stood in one smooth, fluid and quick motion, blue encased around his arms. A sharp, dart-like motion with his hand and then a pulling back with his whole body and a mech spun out into the void that separated the two balconies. Commander Shepard never was one to impress easily, but it seemed like the day to break rules. She was pretty damned impressed. Not even Kaiden could execute a “pull” that quickly.
But commander Shepard was not a patient woman. She pulled out the grenade launcher, cocked it once and turned, blowing all four mechs that stood across the chasm into pieces. She pressed the release button and slipped the condensed version back onto her back and looked over at Jacob as if to say ‘Well that was easy.’ He tucked his pistol back in it’s holster and smirked at her. “Ready to get the hell off this station?”
She wasn’t arguing with that assessment. She wanted to be as far away from this hunk of metal as humanly possible. “What’s the quickest way to those shuttles?”
He thought for a moment. “Depends on where the mechs are thickest. It’s probably best if we...” Radio chatter interrupted Jacob and Shepard just about ground her teeth down into tiny nubs. She was getting sick of almost getting information and then having it yanked away from her. Jacob’s Omni-tool lit up as another man spoke, his voice slightly panicked.
“Check check. Anyone on this frequency? Anybody still alive out there? Hello?”
“Wilson. This is Jacob. I’m here with Commander Shepard. Just took out a wave of mechs over in D wing.” Always the professional. She tilted her head slightly to the side to look at Jacob. She was starting to like him a little bit more. He seemed level headed and strong willed and extremely focused. She hoped he would stick around when they got to wherever the shuttles took them. She could use a friend and comrade like that.
“Shepard’s alive? How the hell? ” she growled softly, earning a sympathetic look from the man in front of her. Everyone was always surprised to hear that she was alive. “ Never mind. You need to get her out of there. Get to the service tunnels and head to the networks control room.”
Shepard’s brow furrowed slightly. He genuinely seemed surprised to hear she was alive. And Jacob was sure she was still a “Work-in-progress,” whatever he meant by that. What had gone on recently? She missed Jacob’s response in her musing, though noticed when he had stopped talking. She said it, more to herself than to him, “Let’s get out of here.”
“You bet.” He seemed relieved that she wasn’t asking questions. “We can get into the service tunnels through this door.” Almost as if to prove his point, he activated the door with a wave of his arm and motioned for her to follow through.
He stood there, allowing her to take point and she almost retorted about her supposed to be following him. She wasn’t sure if he was a former Alliance and ranked lower than her, or if he was some star-struck puppy intent on following her. The former, she could get used to, the latter it’d do better to shoot him now so he wouldn’t step on her heals and get her killed himself.
She stepped through the doorway, her pistol at ready. Nothing but a long hallway with flickering lights. She almost put her head in her hands and screamed in frustration. Why was this turning into a low budget, B rated horror film!? Next thing around the corner would be some spooky mech jumping out at her from nowhere and proceeding to attempt to hack her into tiny bits with a machete.
She walked through the hallway, attempting to keep her cool and trying not to imagine a mech with a sadistic grin and a machete. The image had her holding back laughter that she assumed would sound borderline hysterical. It would do no good to frighten her newest duckling into thinking she was mentally unstable. Getting thrown biotically over a railing into a 20 foot pit was not good for her health.
She keyed the mechanism on the door in front of her and groaned audibly. A dark red room filled with twisted metal shapes that blocked most of the vision and offered numerous hiding spots. “Come on!” she muttered, stretching out the last syllable in her annoyance. She just about screamed in annoyance as mechs peeked around corners and stood from their dormant forms. A well phrased curse slipped from her lips as she slid into cover, banging her shin. The next break in gun fire had her popping out of cover. Instantly analyzing her targets, she put bullets into the heads of all three of the mechs, earning a whistle of appreciation from Jacob. As soon as the last one fell, sparking defiantly, she heard Jacob tearing “Wilson” a new one on his communicator.
“Wilson! Find us another route out of here. Preferably one that doesn’t lead straight into an enemy squad!” That confirmed it. He was Alliance. Only a marine could yell with such vehemence and not rise to shouting volume.
“Just keep moving toward the Control Room.” Whatever it was about his voice, it was really starting to grate on her nerves. She felt her lips curl into a half snarl. “Oh God, they’ve found me!” Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit...... “Help!”
“Wilson, where are you?” She had to hand it to him. Jacob was calm, collected and had a cool-head in the face of danger. Even if she despised the man, which she really doubted she would in the end, she would, at the least respect him.
Nostalgia from her early years on Earth caused her to only hear the last part of Wilson’s panicked statement. “They’re out of control!”
“No shit Sherlock.” she muttered, keying the door in the “Blood Room” and stepped out into the hallway, pressing up against the wall. A doorway on her left and a door in front of her. She turned a looked at Jacob questioningly, not knowing where they were going, much less the layout of the facility.
Apparently she wore her “bemused-face” as Ashley used to call it, because Jacob’s lips pulled into a broad smile. She heard a hint of laughter behind his voice. It was becoming apparent that she would get along with the man pretty well. “Up those stairs Shep!” She assumed it was meant to be a command, but the laughter hidden behind his words made her think he was choking. Instead of reacting and causing him to lose face, and dignity, in front of her, she ignored it and sped up the stairs, taking them two at a time and turned to key the door on her right.
“Shepard! Down here!” She just about slapped her forehead again. The man obviously had no clue who he was dealing with if he thought she hadn’t noticed him the second the doors opened. Other than being the best shot in her class, there was a good reason why her instructor had trained her as an Infiltrator. And why her gang had coveted her skills long before she joined the Alliance. “Bastards got me in the leg!” It took every fiber of her self control to ask if he thought she was stupid.
Instead of possibly insulting the man, she simply stated their need to get off the station, frustration tempering her tone.
“I’m not going anywhere until someone fixes my leg” She wanted to slap the sulky, whiny man all the way to Illium. She felt her face tighten in dislike and saw the way in balding man’s eyes flashed with fear.
“Should be some medi-gel in the First-Aid station on the wall. Hopefully there’s enough to get him up ‘n moving again.” Thank the Spirits for Jacob.
Being assigned as “Nurse” wasn’t something that would normally sit well with her, but it was probably best that she get away from Wilson before she did something she regretted. Just because instincts honed from years of gang warfare screamed at her to shoot the bastard in between the eyes didn’t mean a damn thing about his character. And I’m a Pyjaack’s uncle. She opened the First-Aid station and pulled out a hand full of medi-gel tubes, checking them and putting all but two in one of her breast pockets.
She pressed one of the tubes into Jacob’s hand, her stern look quelling any refusing on his part. The second, she knelt down and jabbed painfully into Wilson’s leg. His sharp cry of pain sounded like choir angels to her ears. She wasn’t much to advertise it, but she knew how to handle a needle: where to insert it for maximum effectiveness and exactly how to place it for minimal, and maximum pain. She pulled the tube from his leg and tossed it haphazardly across the room, pulling up from her crouch, surprised once again when her knees didn’t pop painfully.
Truce looked sharply at Jacob who was still holding the medi-gel and took it from him. She rolled her eyes as he looked taken aback, when she selected a spot on his arm and stuck the needle in. He didn’t scream like Wilson, but then Shepard knew where to put her needles. She tossed the second tube away as Wilson slowly clambered to his feet. She felt disdain pull her face into a scowl. Oh well. It’s not like I actually want to keep him around. It was a hard thing to ignore her instincts to put another bullet in him. Even his strained “Thanks” grated on her last nerve.
She barely kept from snapping his neck while he babbled to both her and Jacob. While she wasn’t paying attention to the words, she was the tone. There wasn’t much pain in his voice, just malice. She inwardly nodded after figuring out what was bothering her about him. Wilson couldn't be trusted even the least bit. Jacob, while he was beginning to earn a little of her hard earned trust seemed to be straddling the ladder with Wilson. She only caught the last bit of the two’s conversation coherently. She bristled slightly, not wanting to waste time pointing fingers and get off the damn station.
“ You’re all strangers to me. Let’s get someplace safe and then we’ll sort out who’s fault it is.” From all her grinding, she must have no teeth left. She felt herself bristle once again, her eyes locking into Wilson’s in an attempt to stare him down and shut him up. Her side was hurting with every breath and she was berating herself for even saving the man. She may value other’s lives but this was one that she would have rather watched being shot over and over again.
“Right Shepard. We need to find Miranda. We can’t leave her behind” Ah, good old Jacob. She was really starting to like him. If she could only place why he seemed so familiar.
“Forget about Miranda. She was over in D Wing. The mechs were all over that sector. There’s no way she survived.” Wilson was practically frothing at the mouth.
“ A bunch of mechs won’t drop Miranda. She’s alive.”
“Then where is she? Why haven’t we heard from her? There are only two possible explanations. She’s either dead or she’s a traitor.”
“Then why did she wake me up and warn me about the attack?” Truce wasn’t sure why she was defending Miss-Bitch-over-the-intercom. It seemed better then just standing here watching the two males snarl over who did what, and whether or not she was dead.
“Ok. So maybe she’s not a traitor.” Truce breathed a sigh of relief. Now that there was a concession being made, finally they would be leaving this thrice cursed room. “But that doesn’t change the facts. We’re here. She’s not.” Always a friggin ‘but.’ She sighed softly, Jacob turning his head to look at her. “We need to save ourselves. The shuttle bay is only a few...”
An explosion cut off Wilson, causing him to rock slightly. Gunfire in sharp retorts cut off all communication And a couple of quick shots from both Jacob and herself kept all of them from getting shot.
“I can overload the canisters to clear a path to the shuttles.” Truce scowled at him, cutting off his next remark. She typed a couple of commands on her omni-tool and flung a burst of static energy at the canisters, causing them to explode. Jacob, being smart, had taken cover, but Wilson was flung to the ground, his omni-tool out and ready to have delivered the charge himself. Her ice green eyes pierced into his watery green eyes, expressing her contempt for the man on the floor. He quickly adverted his eyes and clambered slowly to his feet once more. “That’s it,” Wilson sneered softly, “Let’s get out of here.”
Shepard felt herself bristling and her hand tightened around her pistol. She turned, not holstering the weapon and proceeded to stomp angrily across the bridge. A light touch on one of her shoulders had her wheeling about, a snarl escaping her throat as she stood face to face with Jacob. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed up to where he was still within shooting range, but she was out of his reach.
“Ok, we took ‘em down, but this is getting tense. Shepard, if I tell you who we work for, will you trust me?”She glared at the taller and broader male, unsure of his intentions. She just wanted to get off the damn station and find her crew.
“This really isn’t the time Jacob.” Wilson barked, rushing up to stand next to the other man, his fists balled up lightly.
“ We won’t make it if she’s expecting a shot in the back.” A small, sadistic smile played out across her thin lips. Astute was a good word to describe Jacob. He realized that she could hold her own and the only reason she needed either of the two was to find her way to the Shuttle. Now that she knew it was close, it wouldn’t take much searching to find one and get away. He also realized that the two of them were no match for her. Jacob’s biotics would even the fight out and she probably wouldn’t get away unscathed, but it still wouldn’t be much of fair fight.
“If you wanna piss off the boss, it’s your ass Jacob.” Shepard ground her teeth once again, silently willing the annoying man to shut his trap. She was tired of having information dangled out to her and then having it snatched back at the first sigh of inconvenience or trouble.
“The Lazarus project, the program that rebuilt you, it’s funded and controlled by Cerberus.” Jacob spoke quickly, as if hearing this would make it less unpleasant for her to hear.
“You told me you were with the Alliance. I don’t like being played for a sucker.” Her voice dropped a few dozen degrees in temperature. She was tempted to grab both of the Cerberus employees and throw them over the edge of the walkway. Instead, she crossed her arms, using the anger managment classes that her instructor had forced her to take after she’d exploded on a fellow recruit who had the balls to call her “gutter trash.” She’d give him a chance to explain himself before she threw him over the railing.
“I didn’t lie to you commander. I was with the Alliance before I joined Cerberus,” Jacob seemed to be pleading. Then again, he could probably see the death glare she was giving him. Her temper was almost as legendary as she was. “ The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up. Cerberus spent a fortune just to bring you back,” he rationalized and she couldn't help but think that Jacob could talk his way out of a metal box. “ Look, I’d be suspicious too but right now, we have to work together. I thought you deserved to know what’s what.” She smirked slightly and felt the urge to dispatch of him dissapate along with her annoyance. “ Once we’re off the station, I’ll take you to the Illusive man. He’ll explain everything. I promise.”
Truce felt her confusion expressed on her face. She’d killed many Cerberus operatives in missions while under Alliance command, but she’d never heard the name mentioned before.“Illusive man? Is he in charge of all this?”
“Yeah. That’s not his real name, of course. Nobody knows who he really is,” Wilson interjected, jumping backwards slightly as she stuck her head and shoulders forward and glared at him to shut his trap. A: She was one of the most brilliant mechanics in all of Human kind and B: She was NOT talking to the bald man with the sneer plastered to his face.
Jacob intervened before she decided bloodshed was necessary, which was practical, she admitted to herself, but was a lot less entertaining that bashing the annoyance’s face into a few choice pieces of machinery. “It was a code name the Alliance use for him.Kinda stuck.”
“I don’t care what his name is. He just needs to answer my questions. All of them.”she shot back, irritated that Wilson was getting a rise out of her, but tentatively starting to trust Jacob again.She really needed to get her temper under control. She pursed her lips and pulled her pistol back out, pondering on the likelihood that this “Illusive Man” would pay for anger management therapy.She also pondered if she would even bother going if it was a free ride through; she doubted dead people were still accepted on the benefits program for the Alliance.
Jacob tossed out directions every time she slowed, for which she was thankful. There were only half a million doors in the station and she really didn’t feel like dallying too much.It wouldn’t be too difficult to find her way, but time would be lost.
Truce keyed the lock on a door into a loading bay by the look of it. Her muscles clenched at the sight of mechs in their dormant storage position standing from all directions. She managed two shots and two kills before having to duck behind a grouping of crates. A second later, the third fell into a heap of scrap as Jacob shredded it. She peered out from behind cover and darted to the next room,moving in a crouch with her weapon out as Jacob flanked her, ready and alert and Wilson was dragged along unwillingly.
Four more mechs met their demise to her shots, all of them now missing the head. She lept over her cover and slipped to the other side, crouching once more. Her shields recharged in a spark of kinetic blue and she braced her arms on the crate, dropping two more as Wilson over-loaded one and Jacob used his biotics to dispatch of the last two.
She stepped into the small antechamber off of the loading bay and scooped up two more thermal clips and passed her omni-tool over the keyboard of another computer. Instead of playing it aloud, she heard it through the speakers in her helmet, frowning slightly. It sounded like the woman over the speaker system, but she wasn’t absolutely positive. And who was the “test subject” that had been recovered?
Shepard stored the data on her omni-tool and jogged towards the docking bay door, unsure of what may lay behind it, but prepared for the worst as she readied to key the door. Wilson pushed past her, almost knocking her over and she resisted, once more, attempting to throw him through the inch thick, plexi-glass windows.
“C’mon! Through here. We’re almost at the....” he said excitedly as he worked on the door latch. His smirk of satisfaction slid off his face as a brunette stood on the other side, revealed as the door opened. “Miranda! But you were-” His body recoiled as the woman fired a plasma round into his face, a scowl and look of hatred on her face.
“Dead?” she quipped sarcastically as Wilson fell to the floor, blood oozing onto the tiles. Truce stepped to the side and out of the way as Jacob charged towards Miranda, shock on his features. She cautiously drew her pistol and aimed it at the woman, unsure if she was about to start firing at them both as well.
“What the Hell are you doing?!” She had to give Jacob some credit. He had balls charging up to a woman who had just shot one of the people she’d worked in cold blood without drawing a weapon.
“My job. Wilson betrayed us all.”
Something settled and clicked in Truce’s gut and she lowered her pistol and slipped it back into it’s holster at her hip. “I had a feeling Wilson was just looking for a chance to shoot me in the back.” Even more now, she regretted not throwing him through a window while she had the chance.
Miranda looked impressed and slightly taken aback. “Good instincts. Some people are far too trusting to ever see that coming. Come on, let’s grab this shuttle and get out of here. My boss wants to speak to you.”
Truce felt herself bristling slightly. “You mean the Illusive Man? I know you work for Cerberus.” Her hand itched slightly and she set it on the butt of the pistol, still unsure of the woman in front of her.
“Ahh Jacob, I should’ve known your conscience would get the better of you.” Something akin to annoyance built up in the pit of her stomach. All she wanted to do was get off the station and here they were, acting like it was time to had brunch and tea.
“Lying to the Commander isn’t the way to get her to join our cause.”
“Well, since we’re getting everything out in the open, is there anything you want to ask before we go, Commander?” It was a generous offer for information.
“Were are we going?” she shot off immediatly, hoping it wasn’t another space station with security mechs.
“Another Cerberus facility.” Shepard resisted the urge to put her head in her hands and groan. “The Illusive Man is waiting for you there.” Of course he is.
There was one other question that had been bugging her. “You’re the Lazarus Project director, aren’t you?”
She nodded and turned away slightly, as if remembering something unpleasant. “That’s right. I put two years of my life into this project, into you.” Truce raised an eyebrow at the comment and turned towards the shuttle.
“I’ve had enough of this station to last a lifetime,” she muttered wearily, ready to leave and rest in the shuttle.
“Or two, in your case. Come on,” Miranda quipped, which she ignored in favor of getting the best seat in the shuttle.
Truce plunked gracelessly into a plush seat, pulling her helmet off and dropping it into the seat beside her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, attempting to fall asleep as the engines revved and the shuttle took off from the station. She felt the tell-tale bump as the FTL drives engaged. The seat slowly was pulling her abused mind off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.
Miranda cleared her throat and Truce suppressed the urge to attack the woman. She settled for opening one eye and glaring at her before leaning forward as if to say ‘What?’ Truce turned to look out of the window to her side, watching the blips of starlight pass by.
“Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition.”
“Come on Miranda, more tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough.”
“It’s been two years since the attack. The Illusive Man needs to know that Shepard’s personality and memories are intact. Ask the questions.”
“ Did you say two years? I’ve... been gone that long?” She struggled to wrap her mind around the statement. It was as if the attack had just happened yesterday or a couple of days before. Her already pale face turned sheet white and Truce felt the sudden urge to be sick.
“Two years and twelve days. And you were on an operating table for most of it.” She fought back the gag reflex at that statement, shivering in her armor slightly.
“The sooner we start, the sooner we can be done. Start with personal history.” Truce sighed inwardly. Looks like the brunette had morphed back into ‘Miss Bitch.’ Not much of a surprise there, considering the two women were a lot alike.
“Ok. Records show you grew up on Earth. Tough enviroment. No parents. You enlisted and led some troops during heavy fighting, most notably on Torfan. Do you remember taking on some Batarian slavers?” Though environment didn’t cover the Earthen slums.She had relished in taking out the slavers on Torfan though the lives that it had cost still haunted her years afterwards.
“Those bastards were dug in deep in a fortified bunker. I sent a lot of good soldiers to their deaths. That’s how it had to be....” Even to herself, it sounded like she was rationalizing it to the two across from her and she broodingly glared out the window once more,not wanting to answer any more questions, but knowing that Miranda wouldn’t relent. Even Jacob’s kind words couldn't shake her dark mood; the past had a habit of hurting.
“Satisfied Miranda?” She almost flinched at the anger in Jacob’s voice. At least she had someone sticking up for her.
“Almost,” Miranda chirped back, unaffected by the cold venom in the man’s voice or the daggers he was glaring her way, “Let’s try something more recent.”
Anything but Virmire. Spirits, answer a prayer from one of your daughters. ANYTHING but Virmire!”
“Virmire, where you destroyed Saren’s cloning facility.”
Shit.
“You had to leave one of your squad behind to die in the blast.” There was never a moment where Shepard felt so much rage building up in her chest than at this point in time. She wanted nothing more than to snap the woman’s neck and be done with her. She felt a tingle on her palm and clenched it tightly, focusing on deep breathing as Jacob took his cue from an elbow in the side.
“Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was killed in action. It was your call. Why did you leave her behind?”
Fury tinted her temperature of her voice and eyes, glaring straight into Jacob’s and she fancied she could read his soul. “I left a friend to die that day, and I didn’t do it casually.” She felt her eyes burn at the memory of curling up in Kaiden’s arms and crying the night they left Virmire. “But I had to save as many people as I could. Ash gave her life for the rest of the team. Without her, I couldn't’ve stopped Saren. She died a hero.”
Jacob’s consolation and apology fell upon half-deaf ears as Truce turned her head to glare into space and crossed her arms and legs in attempt to at least put some emotional distance between the other two humans.
“Shepard, think back to the Citadel, after the Alliance saved the Destiny Ascension and you killed Saren. What happened next.”
“ Humanity was offered a spot on the council. I recommended Captain Anderson for the position.” She purposely clipped her voice short in the attempt to dissuade the brunette from asking more questions.
“Yes. Captain Anderson is now Councilor Anderson, though from what I hear, he preferred life in the military.”
“Still, good to know the human council member isn’t going to put politics ahead of defense.”
“Your memory seems solid,” she muttered, seemingly unsure, “There are other tests we really should run...”
Jacob instantly rushed to her defense once more and she tuned the two conversing out and closed her eyes, wanting to get at least a little rest before meeting the Illusive Man in person.

------------------------------------------------------
Hope the length of this chapter made up for the time lapse in between!
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Revalations