[This memory opens with the rattling sound of gunfire. The moon glows over this alien world, a veritable paradise if it weren’t for the invading mercenary force, pushing its way through alleyways and past homes. Fire burns in the distance as these aliens, grey with four eyes on the front of their heads, attempt to chase people through the streets. Security alarms wail in time with the sounds of distant screams throughout the night.
Bursting out of a dark corner is Shepard, dressed in cargo pants and a dark navy blue tank top. Silver dog tags bounce on her chest as she sprints towards the sounds of battle. Her hair is slightly longer than what those who know her on Enso are used to seeing. In fact, her face looks younger, almost an entire decade’s worth of stress and pain missing from her features as she waves around a shotgun. Following behind her are a gaggle of people, ranging from various ages and genders and each one carries a weapon of some kind. Some hold shovels, some small pistols, the occasional pitchfork and knife. All of them run to keep up with her, a few of them with more success than the others. A few other people dressed similarly to Shepard flank around them, carrying guns much like her. They look around, barking out information as they see it. Shepard shouts orders back as they move. “We’ll move towards the westward side, see if we can try to reclaim the outer limits of Illyria and push back their forces. The other colonists are waiting for us to report in.”
Before any of her ragtag gang of people can respond, another person runs up. Their jeans are spattered with dirt and debris, their shirt slightly singed. Their eyes are wide with fear as they stop short, taking in a few breaths to steady themselves. “Corporal! The batarians have breached the barricade over by the docks! They’re swarming in!”
Shepard swears, looking back to the group who is with her. The civilians look to her imploringly. One of her fellow soldiers steps up.
"Shep, we can split half our group here and send one of them towards the docks. The other half can stay behind and-"
Shepard cuts in, her voice hard and commanding.
"There’s no time for that. The civilians can’t move as fast as we do, we’d get overwhelmed by the sheer force of them by the time we got there."
She looks to them as some of them let out a protest. “No offense. But we’re trained for this.” She turns her attention back to the soldier in front of her.
"We’re not splitting up. Take Adrian, Cassandra, Randall and Morgan. Stick together and keep each other safe. I’ll go take care of the barricade."
The soldier in front of her lets out a cry of surprise. "What, alone? Are you fucking with me, Shep?"
Shepard reaches out a hand and places it on her fellow soldier’s shoulder.
“I got this, Alex. Don’t worry. I can hold it down until reinforcements arrive. If we lose the docks, they get control of who comes in and who comes out. We can’t afford the chance of them starving us out.”
The other woman gives her a hard look, eyes narrowed. Then she clasps a hand to Shepard’s that rests on her shoulder and nods. “You give those batarian fucks hell. And if your dumbass gets captured by them, don’t think for a moment that I won’t hunt you down in batarian space and kill you myself before they do it.”
Shepard chuckles. “I’m holding you to that. Now get out of here.”
After another moment of short goodbyes, the group continues to make its way west and Shepard begins to push towards the docks. When she arrives flashes of light immediately break through the air, the hard crack of gunshots rattling in her ear drums as Shepard throws herself into the fray. The batarians lay down suppressive fire and Shepard takes a few bullets, cursing as blood blooms under her alliance blues. It’s only a few moments of return fire and quick biotic maneuvering (which, to those who know her, actually looks… less powerful than it has been here) before her enemies fall. She runs to the impromptu barrier of barrels and boxes, singed and with a gaping hole and looks to fill it. It’s as she slaps some medi-gel on her body that she catches sight of more batarians storming their way to her. She whips away from the hole, just dodging more gunfire. She raises her gun, aims, and begins to fight anew.
The memory shifts, Mu’s fog moving time along until once more Shepard can be seen, sitting with her back to a series of barrels and wooden pallets piled high. Now she looks exhausted, scratches and bruises dotting her face and arms. Her shirt is soaked with sweat and that long hair is tied back in a messy ponytail. The general area is littered with bodies around her and her face is pale. She’s been fighting for hours (12, she’ll learn later). But she looks to the skies, the sun rising over the horizon, and sees frigates shooting down the enemy forces. They bare the Alliance insignia and she breathes. They’re here. She’s no longer alone.
Her bones creak and pop as she pulls herself up. Her gun lays empty and useless on the ground a few feet from her body. Her breathing is ragged as she begins to walk away from what was her impromptu camp all night. She hasn’t slept. She hasn’t eaten. She marches on. She doesn’t hear it at first, as exhausted and injured as she is while she limps back towards the center of the colony. But when she turns the corner she finally hears a roar of voices. Startled she looks up as the first person slams into her body and she jumps a bit, just managing to stop herself from flipping them onto the ground as they wrap their arms around her.
“Shepard! You’re alive! You did it!”
More and more people swarm around her and slowly she realizes they’re her fellow soldiers she gathered together. A lot of the colonists are here too, burned and bruised but alive. Everyone wants to talk to her, to ask her questions, to yell to the sky about her heroics and Shepard stands there, surrounded by love, dumbfounded… but smiling.
Shepard watches this memory for awhile, shaking her head a little. That dumbfounded smile, weathered by another decade of life, sits on her face as she drinks it all in.]
A. I may not live to see our glory, but I will gladly join the fight
Bursting out of a dark corner is Shepard, dressed in cargo pants and a dark navy blue tank top. Silver dog tags bounce on her chest as she sprints towards the sounds of battle. Her hair is slightly longer than what those who know her on Enso are used to seeing. In fact, her face looks younger, almost an entire decade’s worth of stress and pain missing from her features as she waves around a shotgun. Following behind her are a gaggle of people, ranging from various ages and genders and each one carries a weapon of some kind. Some hold shovels, some small pistols, the occasional pitchfork and knife. All of them run to keep up with her, a few of them with more success than the others. A few other people dressed similarly to Shepard flank around them, carrying guns much like her. They look around, barking out information as they see it.
Shepard shouts orders back as they move. “We’ll move towards the westward side, see if we can try to reclaim the outer limits of Illyria and push back their forces. The other colonists are waiting for us to report in.”
Before any of her ragtag gang of people can respond, another person runs up. Their jeans are spattered with dirt and debris, their shirt slightly singed. Their eyes are wide with fear as they stop short, taking in a few breaths to steady themselves.
“Corporal! The batarians have breached the barricade over by the docks! They’re swarming in!”
Shepard swears, looking back to the group who is with her. The civilians look to her imploringly. One of her fellow soldiers steps up.
"Shep, we can split half our group here and send one of them towards the docks. The other half can stay behind and-"
Shepard cuts in, her voice hard and commanding.
"There’s no time for that. The civilians can’t move as fast as we do, we’d get overwhelmed by the sheer force of them by the time we got there."
She looks to them as some of them let out a protest. “No offense. But we’re trained for this.” She turns her attention back to the soldier in front of her.
"We’re not splitting up. Take Adrian, Cassandra, Randall and Morgan. Stick together and keep each other safe. I’ll go take care of the barricade."
The soldier in front of her lets out a cry of surprise. "What, alone? Are you fucking with me, Shep?"
Shepard reaches out a hand and places it on her fellow soldier’s shoulder.
“I got this, Alex. Don’t worry. I can hold it down until reinforcements arrive. If we lose the docks, they get control of who comes in and who comes out. We can’t afford the chance of them starving us out.”
The other woman gives her a hard look, eyes narrowed. Then she clasps a hand to Shepard’s that rests on her shoulder and nods. “You give those batarian fucks hell. And if your dumbass gets captured by them, don’t think for a moment that I won’t hunt you down in batarian space and kill you myself before they do it.”
Shepard chuckles. “I’m holding you to that. Now get out of here.”
After another moment of short goodbyes, the group continues to make its way west and Shepard begins to push towards the docks. When she arrives flashes of light immediately break through the air, the hard crack of gunshots rattling in her ear drums as Shepard throws herself into the fray. The batarians lay down suppressive fire and Shepard takes a few bullets, cursing as blood blooms under her alliance blues. It’s only a few moments of return fire and quick biotic maneuvering (which, to those who know her, actually looks… less powerful than it has been here) before her enemies fall. She runs to the impromptu barrier of barrels and boxes, singed and with a gaping hole and looks to fill it. It’s as she slaps some medi-gel on her body that she catches sight of more batarians storming their way to her. She whips away from the hole, just dodging more gunfire. She raises her gun, aims, and begins to fight anew.
The memory shifts, Mu’s fog moving time along until once more Shepard can be seen, sitting with her back to a series of barrels and wooden pallets piled high. Now she looks exhausted, scratches and bruises dotting her face and arms. Her shirt is soaked with sweat and that long hair is tied back in a messy ponytail. The general area is littered with bodies around her and her face is pale. She’s been fighting for hours (12, she’ll learn later). But she looks to the skies, the sun rising over the horizon, and sees frigates shooting down the enemy forces. They bare the Alliance insignia and she breathes. They’re here. She’s no longer alone.
Her bones creak and pop as she pulls herself up. Her gun lays empty and useless on the ground a few feet from her body. Her breathing is ragged as she begins to walk away from what was her impromptu camp all night. She hasn’t slept. She hasn’t eaten. She marches on. She doesn’t hear it at first, as exhausted and injured as she is while she limps back towards the center of the colony. But when she turns the corner she finally hears a roar of voices. Startled she looks up as the first person slams into her body and she jumps a bit, just managing to stop herself from flipping them onto the ground as they wrap their arms around her.
“Shepard! You’re alive! You did it!”
More and more people swarm around her and slowly she realizes they’re her fellow soldiers she gathered together. A lot of the colonists are here too, burned and bruised but alive. Everyone wants to talk to her, to ask her questions, to yell to the sky about her heroics and Shepard stands there, surrounded by love, dumbfounded… but smiling.
Shepard watches this memory for awhile, shaking her head a little. That dumbfounded smile, weathered by another decade of life, sits on her face as she drinks it all in.]