#altverse || this could be... problematic ( crucible bs | shepard )

[anderwhohn]

@waywardfeathered asked: [ JACKET ] : sender gives receiver their jacket after seeing them shiver in the cold. / for izzy, could be either cas in mass effect verse or izzy crossover chaos

She isn't sure what just happened... One minute, she had been investigating a lab that she strongly suspected belonged to Cerberus, despite Miranda's claim that wasn't, and the next...

The next, she was waking up in a snow filled alleyway, with her hardsuit's power supply completely dead. Without the suit's environmental controls, the cold was seeping in all too easily, and it wasn't long before she stripped the armour from herself to see if any power remained in any systems that she might be able to reroute in the meantime.

This, of course, left her shivering in only her underarmour, her fingers quickly going numb while she works, so caught up in her desperate attempt to restore power to the suit she hadn't really looked around properly to access her situation, nor did she notice the man in the trenchcoat approaching her until he was offering her that very coat.

Emerald eyes blink up at him in wary surprise, uncertain and silent for a long moment, unused to such random acts of kindness from strangers. Frowning slightly, she looks at the offered coat, and it's only the biting wind cutting through the alley that has her reaching up to take it from him and quickly wrapping it around herself.

"Thanks," she offers, absently speaking in Galactic Standard as she still stares at him. "I don't imagine you can tell me what planet we're on? If I didn't know better, I'd almost say Earth, but these streets look too new compared to the ones I know."

[anderwhohn]

Standing toe-to-toe with him, Isabela's eyes narrow as she meets his glare with her own. "No matter how you try to frame it to live with yourself, what you did just shows deep down you're little more than a backstabbing coward," she hisses angrily. "I've dealt with more than my own share of those where I came from - more than one nearly leading to the destruction of the entirety of known civilisation thanks to their actions."

"And each time, over the course of five years, I was the one to fucking stop them. Not a single one survived me in the end, so if you even dare think about doing anything like that with me aboard," she growls, dark energy flickering in a dangerous aura around her, "I wouldn't, if I were you. We may never be 'friends', but you sure as hell don't want me as your enemy, Hands."

Emerald green eyes narrow sharply, a coldness darkening their depths like the most fearful forests - the kind that everyone fears to venture into for the whispers of monsters lurking in wait. While it took her some time to come to trust a pirate crew, there’s just something about this one man that seriously rubs her the wrong way.

If she actually let herself think about it too much, maybe it’s because of how some of what she’s heard from the others reminds her a bit too much of Alenko on Horizon, and later on Mars and then the Citadel. She doesn’t take kindly to those willing to so easily betray those whom they claim loyalty to, not after she was nearly forced to kill her own former squadmate in order to protect the rest of the Council from a traitor in their own midst when Udina was so willing and ready to throw them to Cerberus and the Reapers…

“And you’re lucky I wasn’t here when you decided to play your hand at mutiny,” Isabela growls in return, taking a measured step toward him. “Had you been on my crew and pulled even a fraction of the shit you’ve done here, I’d have thrown you out the airlock. And let me tell you: death by suffocation due to total absence of air is worse than drowning ever could be.”

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn || not-so-random plotted starter

After a quick introduction of Dr. Mordin Solus to Dr. Chakwas and the medical team in the Normandy's medbay, Isabela finds herself once again kicked out so that they can focus on their patient. She knows it's for the best, so that they can focus on saving Garrus's life and ensuring he has full functionality of the side of his face that took a direct hit from a gunship's rocket, but at the same time, it's difficult not being able to be there for her best friend, even with everything else that needs her attention on the Normandy.

"I assume our 'guest' has been well behaved?" she asks Nihlus as she heads for the cabinets, opening the one dedicated to the dextro food storage to rummage through her personal levo supplies stored there, never having gained a true taste for most human foods unlike the majority of the current crew, preferring instead that of the asari and salarians instead. She sticks with just a protein bar for now, ignoring the stern look the older Spectre gives her as she waves off his concern, knowing she's no doubt burned through her energy reserves with her biotics, however limited they may be.

"I made sure she was fed and had Chambers find her a ship suit in her size. Chakwas had one of the medics run a triage scan on her - she'll need medical attention, but not so urgently that she can't wait until Garrus is taken care of," Nihlus offers, his subvocals thrumming with his disapproval of her dismissal of her own needs, even though he knows it's not worth fighting her over it right now, at least until Garrus is back on his feet and on their six once more.

"Well, that's something, at least," she sighs wearily, making quick work of the protein bar before tossing the wrapper into the waste disposal chute. "Any idea how she got onboard? Or who she even is?"

Nihlus shakes his head, gesturing for her to follow him, heading for the elevator. "No idea, on either account. She's not on any list for C-Sec, the Hierarchy, or the Spectres, at least."

"But that doesn't mean she shouldn't be on one," Isabela points out, pressing the button to take them down to the cargo bay where their prisoner waits in one of the holding cells. "It's not like the Protectorate has records of every human in the Terminus. They can barely keep tabs on the ones in the Traverse."

Nihlus breathes a low hum of agreement, his subvocals giving away more of his wariness regarding the whole situation. None of this sits well with him, with an unknown human finding her way aboard a state-of-the-art war ship without even the highly illegal AI noticing until she was inside. "If Lawson is to be believed, she's not Cerberus personnel. And I doubt you'd find a merc wearing Alliance N7 armour, no matter how damaged it might be…"

Stepping out of the elevator into the cargo bay, Isabela frowns at all the wasted space where the armoury should be, as opposed to Cerberus's choice of putting it on the combat deck. "We really should see about making a few retrofits when we find dry dock to make upgrades," she notes quietly with a quick glance up at him before heading toward the holding cell. "At least to move the main weapons and armaments lockers down here."

A quiet huff of amusement escapes the turian at her side, earning him a wry smirk before she focuses instead on dealing with their unexpected 'guest', the warmth and mischief she displays with her partner vanishing behind a mask of cold calculation as she studies the other human trapped behind the barrier curtain of the cell.

"I am Isabela Shepard, an agent of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. My partner is Spectre Nihlus Kryik," she starts, her tone that of bored indifference as she handles their introductions. "You boarded our ship, the Normandy, without authorization. I hope for your sake you have a damn good story, because I have better things to do than deal with a spirits forsaken stowaway right now."

[anderwhohn]

It isn't the first time Isabela's had to steal clothes, stripping herself of the burned and shattered remains of her armour to instead tug on the civilian clothing she'd managed to find. It's a bit mismatched and ill-fitting, but at least it covers her properly and helps hides the numerous injuries she's struggling to ignore, since her medical suites and medigel dispensers were clearly busted.

There's a harrowed look in her emerald green eyes as she tugs the hood of the stolen hoodie up over her head, hissing in pain as even that much is enough to tell her that yes, her ribs are most certainly bruised, if not outright broken.

Cussing under her breath in a multitude of languages - not all of them even human - she carefully makes her way out of the alley and toward the street, such a familiar action that she can't help but glance over her shoulder as if expecting to find either a member of her old gang or one of their rivals there looking for her. It's definitely not what she needs, this too familiar paranoia, when she's not even certain where she is yet…

All the while trying, and probably failing, not to look too suspicious as she makes her way in search of more supplies.

[anderwhohn]

REVISED CROSSOVER VERSE HANDLING:

Since most of the crossovers that aren't dealing with intergalactic space travel being a thing already (ie fandoms like Star Trek, as well as Doctor Who, simply because most muses who'd be interacting therein would be aware of aliens and space travel, even if the general population of Earth in the late 20th and early 21st centuries wouldn't be), and the majority of the crossover verses had a similar thread of "Shepard fires off the Crucible and it does some bullshit that flings her through space and time to somewhere else in the multiverse entirely," the info for all such verses is now simply under the "Crucible Bullshit" card on Izzy's verses page.

VERSE: This Could Be... Problematic [ Crucible Bullshit | Multiverse ]

This is the general 'catch all' verse for crossovers for the fandoms without specifically tailored verses. Most of the interactions within the verse will cover any fandom that takes place on Earth in the "modern era" between the late 20th and early 21st centuries.

Izzy will still have some functional tech - namely her cybernetic implants and omnitool, the latter of which will allow her to painstakingly fabricate additional tech and some other supplies that she might want or need. But whether or not she will be able to return to her own century (or possibly even universe, depending on how things plan out) will largely vary on where she crash lands, because under most circumstances, she'll likely be trapped wherever she winds up, even if it takes her a long time to give up on trying to get home to her crew.

ADDITIONAL CROSSOVER VERSES:

The verses for the following fandoms have been moved as subverses of the multiverse verse. I'm still working out whether to make change the tags to "altverse au" or leave them as-is, but they all essentially share the basic principle of Shepard crash landing in another timeline/world/universe thanks to the Crucible at the ending of Mass Effect 3's Destroy Ending.

Our Flag Means Death [New AU]

Assassin's Creed

Marvel

[anderwhohn]

A pained whimper is all she manages when the weight is lifted off her legs before she can even begin to think about trying to tell him to stop. Hopefully all those upgrades to her cybernetics were worth the expense and forced downtime if they help ensure that any damage done isn't permanent. For now, getting out of the way of the debris while it's off of her sounds like a brilliant idea…

Instinct takes over as she forces herself to move, an aura of dark energy wrapping itself around her, smaller bits of debris briefly floating as its caught in the altered gravity as she manages to shove herself far enough away into a clear patch of ground before collapsing onto her back once more, exhausted from even that much as she stares dazedly up at the nearly too blue sky overhead.

"Salopri," she swears again, taking a moment to reassess her injuries. She can at least feel her legs, so that's a good sign, even though with the sheer amount of pain she's in, she almost wishes she couldn't.

Despite her pain, she turns her gaze onto the man, blinking at him in confusion for a moment as she takes in the full sight of him. His manner of dress is beyond strange, but a small smirk twists her lips as she takes note and offers a genuine "nice beard" at the sight of the full face of hair that's so rare among humans in her experience now, unless they were typically set on staying on one planet.

It takes her another moment before she tries to push herself upright, groaning in pain as everything hurts and makes itself known in the process. "Thanks for the assist. I don't imagine you have any spare medigel on you? Pretty sure mine got evaporated, even if the dispensers weren't fried."

Destroying the Reapers is all that matters…

That's what she said, repeatedly, through the course of the war - both to others and to herself when more and more of the galaxy looked solely to the 'Great Commander Shepard' to save them all from extinction.

Only those closest to her - mostly those who had been there with her through everything in this fight - saw how much carrying the hope of an entire galaxy single-handedly weighted on her, even as she cured the genophage, established alliances between the turians and krogans, brought peace to the quarians and geth, and fought to retake every homeworld and colony the Reapers sought to destroy.

It had been those final moments, after finally putting a bullet through the Illusive Man's brain, and watching Anderson die as the Crucible docked with the Citadel, that Isabela Shepard thought that maybe, just maybe, the fight was over.

She had shared that hope with a select few aboard the Normandy, while in transit between worlds, that she and Javik and so many others might finally be able to lay down their weapons and just… be, perhaps for the first time in their entire lives.

So of fucking course the Crucible - a weapon that no one truly knew what it was even capable of that were throwing all their credits and hopes into it in a desperate attempt to destroy the Reapers - had to pull some weird ass bullshit in the end.

Her armour is burned, nearly completely destroyed in some spots, as she lays in the pile of rubble of what appears to be the fragmented remains of the Crucible and perhaps some debris from the Citadel knocked off by the weapon's blast as it released the unknown energy throughout the galaxy.

Weakened from exhaustion and numerous injuries sustained in the final push, each breath is painful even as she wearily blinks open emerald green eyes to take in her surroundings and access the damage as she glances down at the piece of debris her legs are pinned under.

"Shit," she groans, letting her head drop back to the ground as she closes her eyes, running a mental check through her limbs to ensure she can still feel them properly before she can even begin to try to think about getting herself up off the ground and figure out where the hell she even is…

[anderwhohn]

Destroying the Reapers is all that matters…

That's what she said, repeatedly, through the course of the war - both to others and to herself when more and more of the galaxy looked solely to the 'Great Commander Shepard' to save them all from extinction.

Only those closest to her - mostly those who had been there with her through everything in this fight - saw how much carrying the hope of an entire galaxy single-handedly weighted on her, even as she cured the genophage, established alliances between the turians and krogans, brought peace to the quarians and geth, and fought to retake every homeworld and colony the Reapers sought to destroy.

It had been those final moments, after finally putting a bullet through the Illusive Man's brain, and watching Anderson die as the Crucible docked with the Citadel, that Isabela Shepard thought that maybe, just maybe, the fight was over.

She had shared that hope with a select few aboard the Normandy, while in transit between worlds, that she and Javik and so many others might finally be able to lay down their weapons and just… be, perhaps for the first time in their entire lives.

So of fucking course the Crucible - a weapon that no one truly knew what it was even capable of that were throwing all their credits and hopes into it in a desperate attempt to destroy the Reapers - had to pull some weird ass bullshit in the end.

Her armour is burned, nearly completely destroyed in some spots, as she lays in the pile of rubble of what appears to be the fragmented remains of the Crucible and perhaps some debris from the Citadel knocked off by the weapon's blast as it released the unknown energy throughout the galaxy.

Weakened from exhaustion and numerous injuries sustained in the final push, each breath is painful even as she wearily blinks open emerald green eyes to take in her surroundings and access the damage as she glances down at the piece of debris her legs are pinned under.

"Shit," she groans, letting her head drop back to the ground as she closes her eyes, running a mental check through her limbs to ensure she can still feel them properly before she can even begin to try to think about getting herself up off the ground and figure out where the hell she even is…

[anderwhohn]

"Shepard. Commander Isabela Shepard," she responds, frowning as she tries to get her vision to clear enough to make sense of her surroundings, though her bleary gaze seems to be trying first to focus on the closest voice addressing her. "Service number 5923-AC-2826. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

Paramedics? Paramedics were good, but… When she was last on the ground, London was a warzone, and right now seems way too quiet. But the simple matter was… she hadn't been planetside when the Crucible fired, instead sitting at what was essentially 'ground zero' of the device's controls. She and everyone involved in the mission had gone in with no expectations to survive - it was as much of a suicide run as flying through the Omega-4 relay into the galactic core had been…

She seems to be making a habit of surviving impossible suicide missions…

A faint huff of shock-induced laughter escapes her at that thought, a fact that she immediately regrets when the pain in her ribs skyrockets from the extra strain. "Ah, shit. Note to self: don't laugh," she groans, closing her eyes for a moment. "Paramedic… Right. Suit's med suite likely pumped me full of stims with the last medigel dose. Had to… had to keep going, complete the mission. Explains the killer headache."

"Did… Did anyone else make it? Anderson? He… Bullet wound to the gut. He…" She frowns, struggling to remember. They'd sat there, those last moments before the Crucible fired, watching Earth from orbit. It had been a bittersweet moment, but then… "He… He lost consciousness, and he… I think he…"

Her voice chokes as reality seems to hit her all at once. Dead. Anderson was dead - she had watched it happened. "No… No, he… Shit…" It never gets any easier, losing friends in battle. Even worse when those friends were practically family, and Anderson had been the closest thing she'd known to having a father.

There had been others, though… So many others had tried to make it to that damned beam linking London to the Citadel, so few even came close to reaching it, falling to the mutilated husks of the reaper forces or the deadly laser beams of the Reapers themselves. She knew most of them. Others, she'd only learned their names right before the final push. She'd been ready and willing to die alongside any of them, just as they had been for her. Anything to bring an end to the cycle of galactic extinction...

"Did it work? Are… are they gone? I… I have to know," she starts, carefully positioning herself, fighting past the pain - something she's all too familiar with having to do - to try to sit up. She has to make sure the Reapers are gone, or die trying. "I have to see…"

"What? Ooh…" Isabela groans, emerald green eyes squinting against the brightness as she slowly begins to regain consciousness, trying to blink past the tears that immediately well in her eyes. "Ugh, it's worse than the morning after shore leave… What… What happened? Where am I?"

[anderwhohn]

Levelling a considering look on this 'other Shepard', Isabela only offers a contemplative hum when asked about the hypotheticals were their positions reversed. It's difficult, having grown up on Palaven, imagining a world where she had had to grow up on Earth instead, if she had even survived that long at all, considering how young she was when she found herself abandoned when her parents never returned from work one day.

To try to imagine a world where Garrus hadn't known her since they were teenagers in military training, where he'd had to deal with everything from Castis on his own, knowing how many times she got into arguments with his father over her encouraging Garrus to follow his dreams, regardless of Castis's expectations for him? Her heart aches at the mere thought of how different that Garrus could truly be from the one she'd follow into hell and back without his even needing to ask.

"We'll see," she says for now, still too wary to even consider accepting any real 'help' from a stranger to their entire galaxy. The political implications alone are enough to drive her to a migraine just thinking about it. "For now, I think it'd be best to get you a suitable Codex first to learn our history before we risk... meddling. What might have worked for you could have had very different outcomes here."

A frown tugs at her lips at the reality of their situation with the differences and similarities between what they know. "Oh, there are humans - particularly those old enough to have fought in it - that call it that as well, though I didn't hear of such until I enlisted at 15, and even then, it was from my instructors at basic, preparing us for what we might face once in any assignments offworld. I didn't see another human until I was 18, and even then it was months into my assignment, when our patrol came across a group of pirates attacking a human colony."

"Humans have an ambassador, of course, but they don't have a dedicated embassy - their office is within the volus embassy, much to Ambassador Din Korlack's chagrin. He and Ambassador Anita Goyle do not get along very well, though I think one of her staffers - Donnel Udina - is even more of a thorn in Din's side than she is..."

Though, given the investigations into Udina by Blackwatch, what with the suspicions that he may be involved with the rebels looking to 'free humanity' from their status as a client race, it's not that surprising to her that the man is likely insufferable. The fact that he takes personal offence of her very presence whenever they cross paths, however, is a whole other story.

"It's more likely that humans will end up forcing the Council to even more extreme measures in response to their... discontent with how things went than it is they'll succeed in getting a spot on the Council themselves anytime in the next century. Especially if they continue on the paths they're current treading."

Not that she can truly go into detail there - between Blackwatch and Spectre top level classifications, even she doesn't have clearance for everything regarding that situation. She knows Nihlus is aware of more, but besides teasing banter between the two of them about it, she knows better than to press for actual answers, much less share them with a complete stranger, even if that stranger is supposedly a different version of herself.

"As for Nihlus... He had followed my service record pretty much from the beginning, though it wasn't until I was on leave on the Citadel that I met him for the first time. Even then, I was still a young cabalite with only a handful of missions under my belt when he introduced himself to me in the Dark Star Lounge. I didn't realise he was a Spectre until..."

A faint blush heats her cheeks at the memory, shaking her head as she quickly changes topic away from that particular memory of a somewhat drunken but highly pleasurable introduction to the man who would become her mentor - and more - in the years to follow. "Well, suffice it to say that he certainly made an impression, and apparently it was mutual, as I kept finding myself running into him over the years. After I was admitted into Blackwatch, I learned just why he always seemed to show up at the oddest times, when he requisitioned me for his crew for a mission, which, unknown to myself at the time, began my evaluation as a potential Spectre candidate."

"Whereas Saren... Saren is... was... complicated. I knew him - what little he allowed me to know him, at least - before the indoctrination led to... Well..." She sighs softly, shaking her head as she notes, "He had saved my life, once. Pulled me off of Akuze, after I had been 'on loan' to the Alliance to assist in uncovering what had happened to the colony. Saren got me safely to the Citadel for treatment. Because that had been the second time disaster struck while I was meant to be providing Hierarchy assistance to the Alliance - of only two times I had been on loan to them, even - he began investigating deeper while I was in recovery."

"I later served under Saren for the mission on Torfan, when the Alliance once again asked for Hierarchy aid. After that... Nihlus pulled me back for what was publicly disclosed as being field support with Spectre level clearance, but in truth it was the start of my training as a Spectre. Soon after, we were told to retrieve the beacon on Eden Prime..."

Isabela looks wary at that thought, rubbing her forehead as if to stem off the visions that still plague her. "When the researchers said there was another turian on the colony... it was suspicious enough, given the general animosity between our species. To learn it was Saren? It was... difficult, for both myself and Nihlus, seeing what he had become."

"I was up on the hill overlooking the space port, having taken up a sniper position while Nihlus went to speak to Saren on the docks. Everything looked fine, at first, until Nihlus turned his back to Saren, and Saren immediately raised his pistol... If I hadn't been there, watching through the scope... If I hadn't taken the shot, disarming Saren - near literally, with the damage I did to his arm... Saren's shot went wide, clipping some of Nih's fringe - which bled like crazy, but was survivable."

"Saren had bombs in place to destroy the colony, which I dealt with while Nihlus and the others fought their way through the geth to try to catch Saren. By the time I disarmed all the bombs, Saren had used the beacon and escaped. When we got near the beacon, Nihlus got caught in its tractor beam field and it began pulling him in. I was able to knock him free from it, only to get captured by it myself, and..."

She closes her eyes tight against the memory flashes of the warning, grimacing at the cruel reminder of what they're up against if they fail. "Well, the Council wasn't pleased by the beacon's destruction in the process, however Nihlus was able to convince them to consider the evidence regardless, even if it could only viewed through more... limited means than usual, given the circumstances of all the data now being in my head. But Councillor Tevos couldn't deny the truth when she witnessed it for herself, and the others took her for her word, though Councillor Sparatus was inclined to take me at mine already, given my service record and his cousin's insistence that I was telling the truth."

Isabela huffs in what seems to be bemused agreement, a slight smirk playing at her lips as she shrugs, unapologetic as she offers, "You're a danger, whether you want to be or not."

Her smirk fades as she listens, trying to make some sense of what's different between then besides the obvious. It's the way Wren talks about the Alliance as though it were its own truly separate entity and not a subsidiary of the Hierarchy after humanity became a client race that has her frowning, brow furrowed in thought.

"This was a Cerberus ship - they constructed it from designs for the SR-2 stolen from the Hierarchy. While some of the crew is still Cerberus, they barely staffed the ship beyond little more than a skeleton crew, and after facing a tribunal with the Hierarchy, I was allowed to request a full staffing of volunteers for this mission," she offers, her gaze flicking away to look around the cargo bay thoughtfully.

"The Alliance... My guess is that it doesn't hold the same status as it does where you're from... Humanity lost the war in the Relay 314 Incident, and were inducted as a client race of the Turian Hierarchy, after three years of fighting. The Alliance is an auxiliary of the turian military, much like the volus bombing fleet."

Looking back at the prisoner, she notes, "I was six years old, orphaned on the streets of Earth, when I was found by a turian patrol, only days after the fighting stopped, where they then took me to the Citadel for medical care and was deemed a ward of the state. I grew up on Palaven, and am the only human to date with citizenship above the first tier in the entirety of the meritocracy."

But it's not like there aren't Alliance members on the ship, though she continues to watch Wren closely as she notes, "Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau is our pilot - I wouldn't trust anyone else at the helm. And Major Doctor Karin Chakwas is our Chief Medical Officer, given her expertise with a wider range of anatomy beyond just human."

"I had to stop Nihlus from trying to arrest Kasumi - she was with me when I reported to the turian embassy to arrange a meeting with the Council, and to arrange the tribunal for my... unexpected leave of absence... Zaeed... Well, Urdnot Wrex says he's worth having onboard, and if he proves otherwise, to shoot him. There's only one merc I truly trust, and Wrex is it, so we'll see how well Massani plays with others."

As for the situation on Omega... Isabela sighs wearily as she explains, "Aria told me of the plague, but the situation regarding Archangel was much more time sensitive. Fortunately, the mercs were a chatty bunch, and their encryption was horrible, so it didn't take long to sabotage their efforts before getting across the bridge." Shaking her head at that thought, she absently rubs the shoulder where Garrus had clipped her with a concussive round. "It wasn't enough, thanks to how the mercs were already entrenched, but at least we didn't end up with any casualties..."

"After getting Garrus off that shithole of a station, I immediately went back while Chakwas and the med team worked on saving his hide in order to recruit Dr. Solus - he was present for the actual surgeries. Lawson wasn't happy we were using Cerberus cybernetics, but between myself, the good doctors, and Nihlus, she came around."

There's a deadly sharpness to her smirk then at that thought before she shrugs. "I won't let anyone compromise those few that I trust and care about, and Garrus and I have been friends ever since he enlisted into boot camp. Much of the Cerberus crew weren't exactly thrilled when I brought in a more trustworthy, loyal crew. Should the Illusive Dick try anything, we're more than prepared and appropriately staffed to handle the situation."

[anderwhohn]

Isabela huffs in what seems to be bemused agreement, a slight smirk playing at her lips as she shrugs, unapologetic as she offers, "You're a danger, whether you want to be or not."

Her smirk fades as she listens, trying to make some sense of what's different between then besides the obvious. It's the way Wren talks about the Alliance as though it were its own truly separate entity and not a subsidiary of the Hierarchy after humanity became a client race that has her frowning, brow furrowed in thought.

"This was a Cerberus ship - they constructed it from designs for the SR-2 stolen from the Hierarchy. While some of the crew is still Cerberus, they barely staffed the ship beyond little more than a skeleton crew, and after facing a tribunal with the Hierarchy, I was allowed to request a full staffing of volunteers for this mission," she offers, her gaze flicking away to look around the cargo bay thoughtfully.

"The Alliance... My guess is that it doesn't hold the same status as it does where you're from... Humanity lost the war in the Relay 314 Incident, and were inducted as a client race of the Turian Hierarchy, after three years of fighting. The Alliance is an auxiliary of the turian military, much like the volus bombing fleet."

Looking back at the prisoner, she notes, "I was six years old, orphaned on the streets of Earth, when I was found by a turian patrol, only days after the fighting stopped, where they then took me to the Citadel for medical care and was deemed a ward of the state. I grew up on Palaven, and am the only human to date with citizenship above the first tier in the entirety of the meritocracy."

But it's not like there aren't Alliance members on the ship, though she continues to watch Wren closely as she notes, "Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau is our pilot - I wouldn't trust anyone else at the helm. And Major Doctor Karin Chakwas is our Chief Medical Officer, given her expertise with a wider range of anatomy beyond just human."

"I had to stop Nihlus from trying to arrest Kasumi - she was with me when I reported to the turian embassy to arrange a meeting with the Council, and to arrange the tribunal for my... unexpected leave of absence... Zaeed... Well, Urdnot Wrex says he's worth having onboard, and if he proves otherwise, to shoot him. There's only one merc I truly trust, and Wrex is it, so we'll see how well Massani plays with others."

As for the situation on Omega... Isabela sighs wearily as she explains, "Aria told me of the plague, but the situation regarding Archangel was much more time sensitive. Fortunately, the mercs were a chatty bunch, and their encryption was horrible, so it didn't take long to sabotage their efforts before getting across the bridge." Shaking her head at that thought, she absently rubs the shoulder where Garrus had clipped her with a concussive round. "It wasn't enough, thanks to how the mercs were already entrenched, but at least we didn't end up with any casualties..."

"After getting Garrus off that shithole of a station, I immediately went back while Chakwas and the med team worked on saving his hide in order to recruit Dr. Solus - he was present for the actual surgeries. Lawson wasn't happy we were using Cerberus cybernetics, but between myself, the good doctors, and Nihlus, she came around."

There's a deadly sharpness to her smirk then at that thought before she shrugs. "I won't let anyone compromise those few that I trust and care about, and Garrus and I have been friends ever since he enlisted into boot camp. Much of the Cerberus crew weren't exactly thrilled when I brought in a more trustworthy, loyal crew. Should the Illusive Dick try anything, we're more than prepared and appropriately staffed to handle the situation."

Watching their prisoner's reaction with curious interest, Isabela frowns at the woman's shift in demeanour as she seems to retreat the moment Garrus looks at her. For someone who seemed so adamant that she would die for the turian, she certainly had an odd way of showing it once presented with the man himself.

"She says her name is Wren Shepard - presumably no relation, but who knows?" she offers in their shared tongue, glancing up at him to see if there's any indication that he recognises the name beyond the shared family name. "Beyond that, we only have her word for now, and... her word doesn't make any sense."

She goes on to explain everything they know so far, how the woman simply appeared on the ship, how she knew about Garrus's true identity when no one else should have been aware he was even in this sector of space, the rather mad claims she made about their present being her past, and how Isabela will be reaching out to Bau in hopes of getting assistance from the salarian Spectre with acquiring something from STG to help determine if the woman is telling the truth.

When Garrus offers to help with the interrogation, Isabela shakes her head, looking at him in fond exasperation. "You know normally I wouldn't argue with your expertise in the area, Gare, but for now, you need to recover and heal," she murmurs, reaching up to tug him down to her level to press her forehead to his crest affectionately, relief that he's still alive lending itself to her public affection. "Please, Garrus... Get some rest. I'll be up as soon as I'm finished up here."

It's clear that he doesn't want to go - not liking leaving her alone, especially with Nihlus accompanying him to their cabin - but eventually the weariness is too much to handle and keep him on his feet as he grumbles an agreement and lets the older turian help him back to the elevator.

Once the pair were on their way, Isabela turns her focus back on the other human, one brow raised high in silent judgement as she notes, "If what you say is true, and you're some other... me, from a different universe... I don't know if you're more dangerous to have off ship in someone else's hands, or to have you here - especially if your history is as close to mine as it appears at first glance... If you know as much as you claim, who else should be on this ship?"

[anderwhohn]

The man is... odd, she can't help but think as they stare at each other, a wry smile tugging at her lips even as she realises part of their current issue. It's easy to forget, while living in space, that not everyone has universal translators when it comes to the Earth or her colonies. Not that she agrees, given many of those who refuse to use the technology are doing so out of pure xenophobic bias, but she knows that's not always the case. She just hopes it's not the case with this particular stranger.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't sure which planet we're on, or where even on that planet, and I forget not everyone has universal translators. Galactic Standard is usually the safest bet to start with on most worlds. Guess it's not as popular here, though..." Maybe a remote colony? But which one?

Glancing back down at the still dead hardware from her suit in her hands, she sighs wearily as she realises she's going to need an external power supply to even hope to be able to revive it, and sets it aside before standing, offering, "Thank you, for the coat. I'm Isabela Shepard, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

Castiel isn’t always so good with words, but his first desire is  to be helpful.  It doesn’t occur to him that it may be seen as creepy, weird, even threatening; a quiet man on an alleyway stripping out of his trench coat to offer it to a shivering human... without a word. Fortunately, his gesture doesn’t seem to invoke fear.

What gives Castiel pause is when the human speaks to him. He frowns down towards her. She seems confused; he can relate. Clearly, she is speaking words to him, yet... he doesn’t understand them.

He understands every human language. All angels do; the knowledge is like breathing, to him.

& he knows she is human. He can sense her soul.

The attire is strange, yes. The... suit she’s busy with, it mostly reminds him of an astronaut’s. But humans are strange and beautiful creatures; he would’ve simply rolled with it, if it weren’t for the language he’s unfamiliar with. That part he fails to reconcile.

Hesitant, he nods, unfazed by the cold himself, in his dress shirt (not a single goosebump rises to his skin), but the satisfaction of her accepting his coat for warmth is clouded by the bizarreness of not understanding what she is saying.    ❝ I... do not understand you, ❞    he says, in English, the blue of his eyes fixed as if frozen, gaze unblinking.

[anderwhohn]

Earth?

That was... not what she was expecting, though Kansas... She's not overly familiar with that particular area of North America, but she supposes it might be sparsely populated enough that some of the more isolated areas didn't see many offworlders and so wouldn't always have translators.

Though it's when he mentions a 'cell phone' that truly gives her pause, and she quickly goes over everything else he's said in the last few moments. "Wait... United States of... But it hasn't been called that in roughly 90 years," she murmurs, brow furrowing as she really looks around at her surroundings.

A sickening dread settles in her gut as she takes in the state of the world around her - the lack of any skycars being one of the more painfully obvious ones, now that she's looking for them. Her hands tremble as she opens her omnitool, looking to connect to the extranet, only for there not to be a signal - at least, not for nearly another century.

"Stars... What the hell did the Crucible do?!" she mutters, closing the omnitool once more before seeming to remember she's not alone, emerald eyes wide with unease as her gaze settles on the strange man once more. "I... I doubt a 'cell phone' will be enough to reach where I need to contact, but... the rest? Yeah... I... I think I'm a long way from home..."

And she has no idea how - or even if - she can make it back... If this is before the United North American States was even formed, then it's still another 53 years after that before the Mars Archives are even discovered, and over 60 years before humanity even encounters the turians for the first time. There's not going to be a single active comm buoy in the entire Sol system for decades...

Hell, most of her friends haven't even been born yet, even not knowing the exact year she's in now. She hasn't even been born yet, but that doesn't seem to have stopped her from existing here and now, thanks to what she can only assume was the Crucible's doing. Even if she could get a signal offworld, the relay is encased in ice right now, and it'd simply take too long to get a transmission to even one of the nearest friendly clusters where anyone she knows might be, and well before they ever knew her.

It's a struggle, trying not to panic as she realises the sheer logistical nightmare she's found herself in, pre-spaceflight and with technological knowledge far exceeding anything most humans would even dare to dream about outside of science fiction. Even her omnitool is a technological marvel at this point. Pausing at that thought, she turns and scrambles to gather up even the tiniest pieces of her armour, not willing to leave even a scrap of it behind, considering she might as well be in a first contact situation right now.

"Yeah, I... If you have somewhere private, I think that might be for the best right now. And if it has electricity, all the better..."

The man is... odd, she can't help but think as they stare at each other, a wry smile tugging at her lips even as she realises part of their current issue. It's easy to forget, while living in space, that not everyone has universal translators when it comes to the Earth or her colonies. Not that she agrees, given many of those who refuse to use the technology are doing so out of pure xenophobic bias, but she knows that's not always the case. She just hopes it's not the case with this particular stranger.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't sure which planet we're on, or where even on that planet, and I forget not everyone has universal translators. Galactic Standard is usually the safest bet to start with on most worlds. Guess it's not as popular here, though..." Maybe a remote colony? But which one?

Glancing back down at the still dead hardware from her suit in her hands, she sighs wearily as she realises she's going to need an external power supply to even hope to be able to revive it, and sets it aside before standing, offering, "Thank you, for the coat. I'm Isabela Shepard, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

[anderwhohn]

Watching their prisoner's reaction with curious interest, Isabela frowns at the woman's shift in demeanour as she seems to retreat the moment Garrus looks at her. For someone who seemed so adamant that she would die for the turian, she certainly had an odd way of showing it once presented with the man himself.

"She says her name is Wren Shepard - presumably no relation, but who knows?" she offers in their shared tongue, glancing up at him to see if there's any indication that he recognises the name beyond the shared family name. "Beyond that, we only have her word for now, and... her word doesn't make any sense."

She goes on to explain everything they know so far, how the woman simply appeared on the ship, how she knew about Garrus's true identity when no one else should have been aware he was even in this sector of space, the rather mad claims she made about their present being her past, and how Isabela will be reaching out to Bau in hopes of getting assistance from the salarian Spectre with acquiring something from STG to help determine if the woman is telling the truth.

When Garrus offers to help with the interrogation, Isabela shakes her head, looking at him in fond exasperation. "You know normally I wouldn't argue with your expertise in the area, Gare, but for now, you need to recover and heal," she murmurs, reaching up to tug him down to her level to press her forehead to his crest affectionately, relief that he's still alive lending itself to her public affection. "Please, Garrus... Get some rest. I'll be up as soon as I'm finished up here."

It's clear that he doesn't want to go - not liking leaving her alone, especially with Nihlus accompanying him to their cabin - but eventually the weariness is too much to handle and keep him on his feet as he grumbles an agreement and lets the older turian help him back to the elevator.

Once the pair were on their way, Isabela turns her focus back on the other human, one brow raised high in silent judgement as she notes, "If what you say is true, and you're some other... me, from a different universe... I don't know if you're more dangerous to have off ship in someone else's hands, or to have you here - especially if your history is as close to mine as it appears at first glance... If you know as much as you claim, who else should be on this ship?"

Emerald eyes darken with fury as she stalks closer to the barrier, snarling at the prisoner before a taloned hand lands on her shoulder, holding Isabela back as Nihlus leans in to whisper something in her ear - something she clearly doesn't want to hear as she turns her glare on him before a warning growl from the turian has her backing down with an irritated huff.

"Fine. I'll call Bau," Isabela growls with an annoyed glare at Nihlus. "I'm not trusting the Illusive Dick with whatever the hell this is..."

"You don't trust him with anything," Nihlus notes with a hint of a tease, mandibles flaring in a small grin as he finally releases her, but not without running his hand along her arm in a moment of affectionate reassurance.

"Oh, no, I trust him with one thing - that he'll try to screw us over and get us all killed eventually," she retorts with a roll of her eyes.

With a weary sigh, she looks back at their prisoner, frowning as she tries to decide what to do with this... supposedly other Shepard. Too much of her story matched her own, and yet not enough to be mistaken as her, even if there was little chance of that with how clearly different they appeared to be. But there were details that were classified for the general public, like that of who was responsible for the destruction of the original Normandy, and what exactly their current mission was, that made it hard to simply dismiss the woman's claims.

A snort of bitter amusement escapes her at that precise thought, momentarily reminded unfortunately of Sparatus's words when she had showed up on the Citadel after two years and he had had the audacity to say they'd 'dismissed those claims' regarding the Reapers. At Nihlus's curious chirp, she shakes her head, sighing, "Just my own thoughts being too uncomfortably close to those of Sparatus's for a moment. I want to 'dismiss those claims' as easily as he does the Reaper threat, but..."

Looking back at the woman, she frowns, clearly thinking over just what to do with her. "You'll stay in that cell for now. I want the doctors to run DNA and any other tests they can once they're free. I don't want to believe a word you say... And I sure as hell don't trust any of this. But something is..."

She pauses as the elevator door opens, turning to snap at whoever dared come down in the middle of this, only for her words to catch in her throat as her gaze falls on the clearly exhausted turian staggering out of the elevator.

"Spirits!" Before she can even think of doing otherwise, she's rushing to Garrus's side, sliding under his arm with practised ease to support his weight. "What are you doing up, Gare? And don't tell me the doctors cleared you already..."

"Had to... had to see you," Garrus manages weakly as Nihlus slides in on his other side, taking more of his weight to where he's supported on both sides.

Isabela looks pained as she wants to tell him it could have waited a few more minutes, but she barely manages to hold her tongue at the desperation rumbling in his subvocals. She does, however, shoot a look of exasperation up at him. "Will you at least let Nih take you up to our room to rest? I'll be up as soon as I'm finished with our... guest..."

"What guest?" Garrus asks, gaze sharpening slightly despite the pain and medication as he turns his attention towards what brought both Isabela and Nihlus down to the brig.

[anderwhohn]

Emerald eyes darken with fury as she stalks closer to the barrier, snarling at the prisoner before a taloned hand lands on her shoulder, holding Isabela back as Nihlus leans in to whisper something in her ear - something she clearly doesn't want to hear as she turns her glare on him before a warning growl from the turian has her backing down with an irritated huff.

"Fine. I'll call Bau," Isabela growls with an annoyed glare at Nihlus. "I'm not trusting the Illusive Dick with whatever the hell this is..."

"You don't trust him with anything," Nihlus notes with a hint of a tease, mandibles flaring in a small grin as he finally releases her, but not without running his hand along her arm in a moment of affectionate reassurance.

"Oh, no, I trust him with one thing - that he'll try to screw us over and get us all killed eventually," she retorts with a roll of her eyes.

With a weary sigh, she looks back at their prisoner, frowning as she tries to decide what to do with this... supposedly other Shepard. Too much of her story matched her own, and yet not enough to be mistaken as her, even if there was little chance of that with how clearly different they appeared to be. But there were details that were classified for the general public, like that of who was responsible for the destruction of the original Normandy, and what exactly their current mission was, that made it hard to simply dismiss the woman's claims.

A snort of bitter amusement escapes her at that precise thought, momentarily reminded unfortunately of Sparatus's words when she had showed up on the Citadel after two years and he had had the audacity to say they'd 'dismissed those claims' regarding the Reapers. At Nihlus's curious chirp, she shakes her head, sighing, "Just my own thoughts being too uncomfortably close to those of Sparatus's for a moment. I want to 'dismiss those claims' as easily as he does the Reaper threat, but..."

Looking back at the woman, she frowns, clearly thinking over just what to do with her. "You'll stay in that cell for now. I want the doctors to run DNA and any other tests they can once they're free. I don't want to believe a word you say... And I sure as hell don't trust any of this. But something is..."

She pauses as the elevator door opens, turning to snap at whoever dared come down in the middle of this, only for her words to catch in her throat as her gaze falls on the clearly exhausted turian staggering out of the elevator.

"Spirits!" Before she can even think of doing otherwise, she's rushing to Garrus's side, sliding under his arm with practised ease to support his weight. "What are you doing up, Gare? And don't tell me the doctors cleared you already..."

"Had to... had to see you," Garrus manages weakly as Nihlus slides in on his other side, taking more of his weight to where he's supported on both sides.

Isabela looks pained as she wants to tell him it could have waited a few more minutes, but she barely manages to hold her tongue at the desperation rumbling in his subvocals. She does, however, shoot a look of exasperation up at him. "Will you at least let Nih take you up to our room to rest? I'll be up as soon as I'm finished with our... guest..."

"What guest?" Garrus asks, gaze sharpening slightly despite the pain and medication as he turns his attention towards what brought both Isabela and Nihlus down to the brig.

Isabela frowns at the woman's response - or rather, the lack thereof, looking up to Nihlus questioningly as she switches to their shared tongue, "You said she was asking about Garrus while I was ashore?" At Nihlus's affirmative subvocal hum, she sighs, looking back at the human.

"How do you know of Officer Vakarian?" she asks, stepping closer to the barrier curtain separating them. "Kryik said you asked after him, repeatedly. No one should even know he's in this cluster, much less aboard this ship. And while the latter can be explained by you having overheard his name, you clearly know of him somehow."

Emerald eyes narrow sharply as she all but growls, "You have once chance to tell us the truth. If you're here to harm Vakarian, I can tell you now, you're not leaving this cell alive. Otherwise, I might simply hand you over to Aria to let her do with you what she will."

"Or perhaps I should hand you over to my superiors in the Hierarchy," Isabela notes, crossing her arms as she studies the prisoner still. "Given your Alliance special ops armour, it is not unreasonable to assume you're a spy, whether for the Alliance or one of the rebellion factions. Or perhaps a deserter..."

[anderwhohn]

Isabela frowns at the woman's response - or rather, the lack thereof, looking up to Nihlus questioningly as she switches to their shared tongue, "You said she was asking about Garrus while I was ashore?" At Nihlus's affirmative subvocal hum, she sighs, looking back at the human.

"How do you know of Officer Vakarian?" she asks, stepping closer to the barrier curtain separating them. "Kryik said you asked after him, repeatedly. No one should even know he's in this cluster, much less aboard this ship. And while the latter can be explained by you having overheard his name, you clearly know of him somehow."

Emerald eyes narrow sharply as she all but growls, "You have once chance to tell us the truth. If you're here to harm Vakarian, I can tell you now, you're not leaving this cell alive. Otherwise, I might simply hand you over to Aria to let her do with you what she will."

"Or perhaps I should hand you over to my superiors in the Hierarchy," Isabela notes, crossing her arms as she studies the prisoner still. "Given your Alliance special ops armour, it is not unreasonable to assume you're a spy, whether for the Alliance or one of the rebellion factions. Or perhaps a deserter..."

Wren is pacing a circle in the small holding cell. She knows she ought to sit down and rest  ⸺  somehow, she’s not been further injured by the Crucible, but she’d taken a few too many hits before she got that far, and her left leg wants to give under the weight of every step  ⸺  but it feels  not possible to stay still.  Her pacing isn’t doing any good at quieting her anxious mind, but at least the repeated movements are something she can control.

She’s come to two conclusions, so far:

One, this is not her ship. That much was pretty obvious from the start; the design is familiar enough, but it’s wrong, it’s as if having been sent back in time, with the Cerberus logos... & the people? Well, for one, the first person she had seen was  Nihlus Kryik.  Which had let to her thinking she’s in a fever dream of some sort.

Two, this is not a fever dream. She’s intimate with nightmares. This is too coherent to be any kind of a dream.

And if back in time isn’t enough, it’s not her own time she seems to be back in. There’s someone else on board they refer to as Shepard. There’s Kelly Chambers she’s caught long enough a glimpse of when being brougth clothes to see she doesn’t recognise her and there’s... talk of Garrus, disturbingly. Cerberus, Kelly, Garrus being hurt... she’s been able to deduct she’s somehow in a time right after the rescue of Garrus from Omega. She’s not stupid; unbelievable as it is, she knows this Garrus wouldn’t recognise her either (she dreads to think how it will feel to see the look of utter unfamiliarity in his eyes, similar to Kelly’s, if they come face to face), but she’s still, a little frantically, tried to pry information on his status from Nihlus, with no success. (Where seeing Kelly has been like seeing a friend whose memories of her were erased, seeing Nihlus continues to be as if seeing a ghost.)

She freezes when she hears people approach. Situates herself as near the barrier as she can without touching it, desperate to gain more sense into her situation.

Yet if Wren had blanched at seeing Nihlus alive, all the colour leeches out of her face when the woman introduces herself. So this is her. A different Shepard  ⸺  and if this is a different version of reality, does she have to have the same name? This isn’t a clone thing, they don’t look the same. Their first names aren’t the same.

She’s so desperately wanted to talk to someone, yet now she doesn’t know what to say. Wren opens her mouth only to close it again. Reeling a little, dizzy, she leans onto the wall to her right with a hand, trying her best not to pass out.

❝ I... ❞    What can she say? Not the truth; these people aren’t going to believe that. She’s frightened and unable to improvise  ⸺  there is no convincing story she can tell.  So she presses her lips together, not knowing what else to do than to remain silent.

[anderwhohn]

Emerald green eyes narrow sharply, a coldness darkening their depths like the most fearful forests - the kind that everyone fears to venture into for the whispers of monsters lurking in wait. While it took her some time to come to trust a pirate crew, there's just something about this one man that seriously rubs her the wrong way.

If she actually let herself think about it too much, maybe it's because of how some of what she's heard from the others reminds her a bit too much of Alenko on Horizon, and later on Mars and then the Citadel. She doesn't take kindly to those willing to so easily betray those whom they claim loyalty to, not after she was nearly forced to kill her own former squadmate in order to protect the rest of the Council from a traitor in their own midst when Udina was so willing and ready to throw them to Cerberus and the Reapers…

"And you're lucky I wasn't here when you decided to play your hand at mutiny," Isabela growls in return, taking a measured step toward him. "Had you been on my crew and pulled even a fraction of the shit you've done here, I'd have thrown you out the airlock. And let me tell you: death by suffocation due to total absence of air is worse than drowning ever could be."

@anderwhohn​ said: “Bastard.” //Izzy @ Izzy? xD

unprompted asks    /    ALWAYS ACCEPTING ↷

Izzy rolls his neck, tilting his head back in exasperation. He can practically feel his blood pressure go up. He’s just about  fucking had it  with the people Ed insists on collecting  ⸺  bad enough Izzy’s had to fetch Stede Bonnet back himself, now Shepard. He doesn’t like it, being unable to understand where she comes from, what she can do, and why she can do the things she can do. Scares him, a little, not that he’d be caught admitting that. But all that, all that he can fucking handle. No problem. He’s  trying.  But does she need to deliberately keep poking at him?!    ❝ You’re testing my fuckin’ patience, ❞    he growls, not turning to look at her, hoping she might just walk away.