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temperqnce · 3 months ago

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Shakarian Heist-Fic

This is a small piece of a ridiculously long ME2 fic I've been keeping close to my chest and working on-and-off on for like. Ten years. This comes right after Garrus said something stupid on Purgatory (the for-profit ransom jail, not the club) that was insensitive considering her slavery-related PTSD (she has the colony background.) They worked it out. Next thing he knows, he's on a heist-date on Bekenstein, orchestrated by Kasumi. Shep's determined to mess with him a little while they're out. This is pre-relationship.

Please be nice, I have NEVER posted work publicly before!!!

Port Observation Deck

The door to the observation deck slid open and Garrus stepped inside. In front of him, the vastness of space glimmered with sparkling stars. To his right was a small, self-service bar and lounge - a civilian ship luxury, stocked with liquors of all colors in mostly regulation space-travel friendly cylinders. They were mostly levo drinks, friendly for most non-turian species, but a few were carefully separated and labeled dextro. He had come here once or twice before, to break the ice with some of the crew. Since Kasumi had moved in, she had taken over the left half of the room with tasteful displays of (mostly stolen) art and other personal effects, but there was still plenty of space to lounge and watch the stars go by.

On the black corner couch in the middle of the room, Kasumi and the commander were chatting and having a few drinks. Shepard was on the half of the couch that faced the door. She was dressed down in some comfortable-looking civvies, and the two women seemed relaxed. Shepard had been intently listening to whatever Kasumi had been saying before Garrus entered the room. The two looked up at him and Shepard smiled brightly and stood.

“Garrus! Thank you for coming by. We have a favor to ask of you. Come sit. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Anything for you, Commander,” he said, and obeyed, sitting next to Kasumi on the side of the couch facing the bar.

Shepard came back shortly with an unfamiliar midnight-dark concoction that bubbled on the sides of a narrow-topped, spouted glass. “Jane. What is this?”

“Try it. I’ve been experimenting,” She said, looking a little devious as she sat back down.

“...Are you trying to kill me, Shepard? Is this revenge?”

“Of course not! Look, it’s just xin and Drossix, but with a sort of… Quarian twist. Trust me, okay?”

“Trust you? You haven’t even tried it. You couldn’t. This could actually kill you.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Kasumi cut in. “She’d get indigestion, at worst. You know when they say ‘Drossix Blue makes human stomachs explode’ they just mean drunk assholes shitting themselves, right?”

“...Right. Well, here goes nothing,” he said, and tossed back the drink in one gulp. Shepard’s eyes lit up, watching his face. The base of the cocktail was richly bitter and strong, but the bubbles popped tart and almost sweet on his tongue. The carbonation was dense, but the beverage went down smooth. He felt a light pleasant buzz hit the back of his brain.

“Wow,” he said, setting the glass on the table. “That’s nice. When did you develop an interest in dextro bartending?”

“Two of my closest friends are dextro, Garrus, it’s called cultural competence.”

“Only one of those friends is a dextro that drinks.”

“Well… consider it me plying you for that favor.”

“Right. You’ve liquored me up, now what do you two want with me?”

Kasumi and Shepard shared a conspiratorial look, and Kasumi nodded. The commander grinned at Garrus and asked,

“Do you wanna be my date on a heist?”

Bekenstein

The self-driving cab descended, hovering ever closer to a huge compound taking up the edge of a dramatic cliff. The mansion at the center was made of tall glass walls and sweeping white curves. Spreading out around it were several warehouse facilities patterned almost like waves breaking away from the centerpiece. It was an incredible sight to behold as the sun crept towards the horizon and tinted the sky pink. The sunlight played gently on the mist that gathered over a vast and rocky canyon. Shepard was taking it in when Garrus grunted next to her.

“Nice digs.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Paid for in blood,” Kasumi darkly added in the seat behind them. “The rest of the compound is an arms manufacturing facility.”

Kasumi had asked Shepard to help her infiltrate a party of high-class criminals. Hoarders of culture and art, elite mercenary bosses, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, the works. Their mission was to break into the vault belonging to the host and retrieve a greybox belonging to a fellow thief. From what Shepard could tell, Keiji had been Kasumi’s partner in crime as well as in life. The greybox contained his memories, and as if that weren’t precious enough, encrypted within them was some damning intelligence that could cause serious upheaval in the Alliance. Keiji had been killed and his memories stolen by the criminal and art mogul Donovan Hock. Shepard was going undercover as Alison Gunn, a mercenary alter ego designed and made almost real by Kasumi’s expert work online.

“I still don’t know why you aren’t doing this with Jacob,” Garrus complained. “The two of you would probably make a more… believable couple.”

Kasumi snorted. “HAH. Doubt it. At best they would think he was her employee. At worst his domineering mother-in-law. Come on bud, you were a detective. Crime in Citadel Space is your thing.”

The cab touched down in an empty roundabout in front of the main hall of the mansion. They were a tad late. The cab opened up, and Kasumi lithely hopped out.

“Hey, I’m not old enough to be anybody’s mother-in-law!” Shepard called after her, adjusting the one bracelet she owned, a simple silver chain. She started to stand. “Trust me Garrus, this is better. Kasumi’s right, you have experience dealing with these types.” She climbed out of the cab the best she could in the dress Kasumi picked out for her. It was a black halter-top dress that showed off her muscular shoulders and back. It was entirely too clingy for ease of movement, accentuating the difference between her toned waist and her bulky thighs. “It also helps that you’re not borderline afraid of me.”

Garrus laughed, climbing out after her. “Oh, but I am.”

“Are you?” She asked, amused. She turned to offer him a hand, and he took it, but with his long legs he was already out of the car. Instead he linked their elbows and gave her a wink.

“Oh yes. You’re terrifying. Squishy, but terrifying.”

“Squishy?”

“Let’s move, lovebirds!” Kasumi called. The art thief was standing next to a second car fiddling with her omni-tool. As she worked, the car opened and a large gold statue of the turian spectre and infamous legend Saren Arterius slid out on a hoverplate. “We still have to go over the plan one last time.”

They huddled together around the gaudy statue. “This really is tasteless. I can’t believe he’s taking it,” Garrus commented.

“After a certain point, wealth actually makes your taste infinitely worse,” Kasumi said matter-of-factly. “The richest of the rich have houses full of garbage. You’ll see once we get inside.” She grimaced. “Can’t put a price on your soul.”

“So, Garrus and I go in as merc leader Alison Gunn and…” Shepard trailed off, at a loss. “What’s Garrus’ cover? He’s famous in his own right these days. And as cool as it would be to bring Archangel, he’s supposed to be dead.”

“Oh, I’ve got a name for the big guy,” said Kasumi. “You’ll be attending as Altus Avaros. No cool background, you’re just a wife guy. Pure arm candy.”

“I can do that,” said Garrus, addressing Kasumi but staring at Jane, who had doubled over in silent giggles, covering her mouth with her free hand. Kasumi grinned knowingly at Garrus’ confused stare.

“Let’s just hope there aren’t a lot of guests like our girl that know both Palaven Standard and Latin.”

“Do I wanna know?” Garrus asked while Shepard pulled herself together. Big bird. BIG BIRD. She wanted to tell him but she knew it would ruin it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kasumi smiled innocently. “You two are going to go in. Schmooze a little, but not too much. We don’t want people asking you too many questions or your aliases will fall apart. Then we locate the vault, find its weaknesses, and I’ll guide you through exploiting them. I’ll be with you, and scouting around the house unseen. The statue will smuggle our weapons and armor for when we get into the vault. You can keep your sidearms. They’ll probably expect you to.”

After briefing, Kasumi vanished, leaving the pair to start up a set of stone stairs, hovering Saren statue in tow.

“I still can’t believe you called me squishy,” Shepard jabbed, elbowing her date as they walked.

“Speaking of squishy, where are you hiding your pistol in a dress that tight?”

She snorted. “I could show you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

The interior of the mansion had an incredible view of the sunset given that the entire western wall was made of glass and crystal. The center of the main room had a water feature, a large but gentle fountain with benches nearby for sitting. To either side, roped off sets of spiral stairs, and beyond those, alcoves of priceless paintings and art. The host hadn’t shown himself yet and Kasumi was scoping out the vault entrance, so Garrus and Shepard browsed the exhibits.

The two made thoughtful noises here and there as they walked slowly through the displays. Eventually, Shepard sighed.

“Is it just me,” she whispered, “or is this…?”

“The most bored you’ve ever been in your life?” Garrus leaned over to rumble in her ear.

“Oh thank God. It’s not that I don’t like art, it’s just-”

“Hey, you don’t have to pretend to be cultured around me.”

“Really though! Kas was right, this stuff is uniquely bad!”

“You know, I bet it’s better with booze. Everything’s better with booze.”

“Garrus, we shouldn’t. We’re on a-”

“My name is Altus, thank you, and I’m already walking away. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and he was around the corner and out of sight.

Shepard grumbled and sat down on a bench by a small fireplace. The fire was set into the wall opposite the paintings they were looking at, which also hosted shelves upon shelves of books and knick knacks. She was about to pick up a book when a pale human male with a jar-shaped head and the worst facial hair she’d ever seen sat down next to her.

“Alison Gunn, I presume?” he said in a bizarre accent she couldn’t place, holding out his hand. Jane took it and smiled politely.

“Yes, good to meet you, Mr…?”

“Hock. I am your host tonight,” He said smoothly. Instead of shaking her hand, Donovan Hock lifted her hand delicately and pressed it to his lips. Shepard’s stomach soured. “Are you enjoying the party thus far?”

“I am, Mr. Hock. You have a breathtaking home,” Shepard did her best to maintain a level countenance as she took her hand back. If she could be cool under gunfire, this should be easy. Right?

“Please, call me Donovan, Ms. Gunn. And thank you for the compliment. I paid the architect three times his usual fee for his undivided attention and for dealing with participation on my part. I wanted it to reflect my tastes well,” He smiled slyly at Shepard. She felt her face start to traitorously wrinkle with disgust, and schooled it into something more like vague interest. “Come with me across the gallery for a moment, will you?” Hock continued. “I would like to show you something.”

“This is good,” Kasumi chimed in Shepard’s earpiece. “I need a voice sample from him, it’s one of the keys to the vault. Keep him talking.”

“Alright,” Jane said in reply to both, and she stood to follow Hock.

Hock took her out of the northern gallery alcove and around to one of its outer walls facing the back windows. On a pedestal against the wall, was that… an old Earth optical disc? It was huge. Wider than Hock’s own massive head.

“I admire your work, Ms. Gunn,” The man began, stepping uncomfortably close. “You keep the barbarians at bay. Those backward-thinkers that try - and always fail - to stop people like me from doing what is necessary to keep the world turning. You understand the value of my work. I appreciate that.” He gestured to the disc. “You see this? A relic of a bygone age. If it weren’t for people like us, making the right moves, making the difficult choices, doing the galaxy’s dirty work… humanity would be stuck in the dark ages. Swinging clubs and writhing in the mud.” He stepped aside and let the colorful, sparkling gradient of sunset light behind them shine on the reflective surface of the disc.

“That was… an enlightening speech, Mr. Hock,” Shepard managed to say, turning back to the host. “And of course I agree. I appreciate that we, uh, share that understanding.” She forced herself to smile.

“There is much I have to share with beautiful women, Ms. Gunn,” Hock said smoothly, sliding back into her personal space. Shepard felt her biotics flicker, her hand twitching and the back of her neck getting warm. She clenched her fist and-

“Heyyyy, honey, I got that drink you wanted!” Garrus said cheerfully, sliding one arm around Shepard’s waist and putting a champagne flute in her hand with the other. The maneuver effectively created a barrier on all sides of her body for a moment, and forced Hock to back up. Jane felt her building rage and tension soften. Trust Garrus to be a smooth operator, she thought, relieved.

“Sorry, Shep,” Kasumi said in her ear. “I had to hold him back for just a second while I got the recording. But we’re good, so you guys can feel free to get Hock out of your hair.”

The art mogul scowled, then schooled his expression and tilted his head up slightly as if to look down at the pair. If that were possible, given that Garrus was at least a whole head taller than him.

“Mr. Hock, I appreciate you inviting my wife and I into your home tonight,” Garrus said warmly, pulling Shepard a little tighter into his side. “It’s a gorgeous place. We were just talking about how captivating the view is. You wouldn’t mind if I stole her away for a moment on the balcony…?”

“Of course, please. I have other guests to attend,” Hock said coolly. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Gunn.”

Shepard smiled as sweetly as she could at him, not trusting herself to speak, and let Garrus lead her down the hall and out the glass door to the wide balcony overlooking the canyon. An air highway crossing the canyon led directly into the sweeping skyline of Milgram, Bekenstein’s capital city. The buildings there were some of the tallest she’d ever seen outside of the Citadel.

Garrus let go of her waist once they reached the edge. They stood next to each other, not touching anymore but still close, resting their glasses and their arms on the thick balcony railing. They were quiet, taking in the view. Then,

“Sorry. For grabbing your waist.”

Jane was surprised. “No need. It’s fine.”

“No, I mean. It’s more normal for humans than it is for turians,” Garrus explained, an edge of nervousness to his voice. “We don’t really do… public displays of affection, even with partners or family. I had to sort of code-switch for a minute, and it’s fine surrounded by mostly humans. But… I would have been slapped, doing that back home. So. I feel like I need to apologize out of respect for you, even though… it doesn’t mean much to you. As a human.”

“Hmm,” Shepard said, thoughtful. It was endearing of Garrus to think so much about their cultural differences. He seemed to know a lot more about what was normal for her than she did for him. She would have to catch up. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I appreciate you. For stepping in. It was good timing.”

Garrus chuckled softly. “Well… again, normally I wouldn’t do something like that. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. But normally you’d be able to hand a guy his ass with very few consequences.”

“Yeah,” Shepard sighed. “I really wanted to do it.”

“Kick his ass?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he admitted ruefully. “Did you know I was top of my class for hand-to-hand combat in the academy? I bet he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe he’ll get to find out later,” Shepard mused. “The night isn’t over yet.”

“You’re right,” Garrus sighed. He tapped his glass with a talon. “You should drink this. It’s good.”

“Your drink?”

“No. Our drink. We’re drinking the same thing.” Shepard had failed to notice that the pale, icy-green colored liquid was in both of their glasses.

“How is that-”

“It’s a newer kind of dual-chirality wine,” He explained. “Asari-made. Levo and dextro friendly, without the weird taste. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while, but it’s expensive, and, well, I didn’t want to do it alone. There was never a right moment.”

“But now, on this rich asshole’s dime…”

“Exactly.”

Shepard touched her glass to his, a pleasant chime ringing over the vast canyon in front of them, then she took a slow sip, savoring the moment. It hit her tongue tart but settled dry, somehow both intense and impossibly light, like someone had taken an Earthen white wine and hit it with a particle accelerator. Whatever undoubtedly alien ingredients they used reminded her more of lychee and pear than of grapes.

“Wow,” she said. “This is nice. I like it a lot.”

“I’m glad. I’ll have to find some on the Citadel the next time we go.”

“Thank you, Garrus. For this, and for earlier.”

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

Static buzzed in Shepard’s ear.

“You guys are gross. Married for all of five minutes and already making me puke,” Kasumi teased in their ears. “Get back inside, I got everything we need to get in the vault. It’s time to get suited up.”

Jane felt a blush coming on. She left her glass on the balcony and grabbed Garrus’ hand, doing her best to twine their mismatched fingers together and pull him back indoors. They descended the stairs to the long hallway that led to the vault.

“Hold on,” Garrus started, and they froze on the last step. “Guards coming down the other side.” Sure enough, Shepard saw the shadows of two armored men lingering at the top of the stairs at the other end of the hallway. A wicked idea fixed in her mind and she flashed a wide grin at her partner.

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, and with her left arm she tugged him down the last step while with her right she shoved him up against the wall. She got a rush of satisfaction at witnessing his shock and nervousness, his eyes wide and his hands up in disarmed surrender. “I know you just said turians don’t like PDA, but…”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he replied quickly with an urgent glance down the hall.

How does one kiss a turian? Shepard mused, pressing up against him and elbowing his arms down. The guy doesn’t have lips. She supposed she’d have to improvise. Garrus settled his hands on her hips tentatively and she wrapped hers around the back of his neck, gently craning his neck so she could reach him. A mandible is like a jaw, right? A sensitive, more expressive part of a jaw? She placed soft kisses down the uninjured side, smiling at the panicked heartbeat she felt reverberating in his chest. What happened to Mr. Suave? She wondered, before finally pressing the first of a series of exploratory kisses on his mouthplates. Kissing turians won’t be necessary, she heard her own voice in the back of her mind say to Ashley in the Cargo Bay all those years ago. She was okay with being wrong. Not because she was into it, or anything, of course. Just to get under the usually cool and confident sniper’s skin. And by his reaction… shallow breathing, tightly fluttering mandibles, a high timbre in his chest that she could only describe as acute distress… she had succeeded. That was pure satisfaction.

She was lost in figuring out how to describe what his very foreign mouth tasted like when she heard a cough from behind her. Garrus had apparently forgotten what they were doing all of this for, because he jumped a little and let go of her quickly, like a teen having been caught under the bleachers. That was fitting enough, though, and Jane stepped back, making a show of fixing herself up though he hadn’t done anything other than attempt to kiss her back and clamp onto her hips for dear life.

The two Eclipse guards looked some combination of embarrassed and dumbstruck. Turian-human couples weren’t very common, for good reason. “Sorry for the uh, interruption, ma’am,” one of them said, flushing and not meeting her eyes. “Just - well. This hallway isn’t off-limits, per-se, but it’s not private, either. You might wanna… I mean. Mr. Hock’s estate is extensive, I’m sure staff could find you and your, uh, friend a room if you wanted.”

Shepard gave the men her most devastating smile. “Thanks, boys. We’ll finish up here and probably head home.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the guard said, and quickly moved along, elbowing his partner to follow him.

When they were out of sight, Shepard turned back to Garrus, whose blue-flushed neck was slowly returning to normal along with his steady breathing. He glowered at her.

“You enjoyed that a little too much, Commander.”

“Aww, was it really that bad?” Shepard pouted.

The blush returned. “No! No, I, uh, well, it was, uh. Just. New,” he spluttered. “Different.”

“Calm down, big guy, I’m only teasing,” she laughed, and grabbed him by the elbow to pull him down to the vault door.

She was going to have to thank Kasumi later. This was the most fun she’d had on a mission in a while.

--------

Kasumi flipped backwards off Hock’s gunship and back down onto some shipping containers in the coolest feat of acrobatics Jane had ever seen.

“I do love a professional,” Garrus buzzed in her ear. She could hear the smile in his voice through the radio. Having disabled the ship’s shields, the only thing left to do was blow it out of the sky.

Shepard pulled out her grenade launcher and crouched to load it. High on the landing pad but behind some crates, Kasumi made quick and precise shots with her pistol at the windows of the gunship, clearly going for Hock’s head. Garrus popped up from his spot on the opposite side of the platform from Shepard, shot a few strategically-aimed high-caliber rounds, then disappeared to reload. Shepard could hear them both muttering to themselves over the radio.

“Take that, you bastard. I hope one of these lobotomizes you but keeps you alive so I can shoot you a few more times you sick fuck-”

“-turian design, weak points in the armor… here, here, and… here-”

Shepard looked up and hefted the grenade launcher to her shoulder. She waited for Hock to pause between his hail of bullets and the next round of pummeling rockets. She charged her shields, hoping to draw Hock’s attention. She popped up and rapid-fired, three grenades at once. She figured one or two of them might interrupt the barrage while the other snuck past. Garrus also popped up. Hock fired his missiles. But not at Shepard.

“Shit-” Jane heard, and then Garrus’ radio cut out.

-----

Garrus hit the ground. Hard. Something buzzed on the screen of his visor and his radio cut. Diagnostics told him he’d cracked a tiny part of the receiver - no big deal, he could weld that back together with his omni-tool.

His combat HUD told him all three grenades Shepard sent off had hit the gunship square on. Kasumi cheered, loud enough that he’d picked it up without the aid of his radio. Safe now from rocket fire (thank the spirits) he sat up to take his visor off and quickly zap it back into shape. He thought he heard the commander yelling from pretty far away. Then suddenly she was right in his face.

She’d lept over his cover and landed haphazardly beside him, then grabbed his shoulders with force that would have completely fucked his welding if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to stop. Her eyes were wild and her hands were shaking. Concerned, Garrus wrapped his hands around her elbows in what he hoped was a comforting grip.

“Jane? What’s wrong?” He asked, thoroughly confused.

“Rocket,” she said between heavy breaths from the dead sprint she must have been in. “You didn’t pop back up.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” he said, his subvocals coming out low and warm, the emotion stronger than he expected. He squeezed at the joint of her arms. “Just broke the receiver in my visor. I was fixing it.”

She shoved him a little, clearly miffed, and knocked a fist against his armor. “You have at least two backup radios. What did I get you this stupid suit for? You and that damned visor.” She shook her head, but smiled as he pulled it out to finish the quick weld.

“Guys! The Kodiak is almost here,” Kasumi called from above, leaning over the railing of the landing pad. “We probably want to get out as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Shepard said while Garrus gave an affirmative hand signal, and the thief disappeared.

Garrus replaced his patched-up visor and re-connected to their combat frequency, then caught Jane’s arm before she started vaulting over the concrete barrier between them and the stairs. The playing-pretend part of the evening might have been long-since over, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t see the bit all the way through.

“Before we go,” he said quickly to her surprised face, “I just… wanted to say thanks. This was fun.”

The commander’s expression was caught between amusement and confusion, a small, open smile showing while her brows furrowed. She looked away from him, blinked a few times, then said, “Uh, yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I’m… glad.” She seemed to gather herself, then looked at him again, smiling in a more relaxed way this time. “I’d say we should do it again sometime, but…”

“What, get invited to a high-class criminal soiree, drink their booze, steal their shit, and blow it up? I’m game if you are.”

“It’s a date,” she said, winking at him, then she slung herself over the concrete divider and hurried up the landing pad stairs.

His heart was hammering, all of the sudden.

It was just a joke. Wasn’t it?

Shit.

--------

Garrus found himself back where all of this had started, staring at the Normandy’s meager selection of dextro liquor and mixers in the starboard lounge. He was alone, thank the spirits. Shepard and Kasumi were debriefing in the commander’s cabin, deciding the fate of the greybox.

He thought about trying to mix up what Jane had made for him before the mission, but he didn’t really have the presence of mind to recreate it properly. He poured himself a glass of straight xin and sat on the couch with a huff.

Over and over again, his mind was replaying that moment on the stairs, right before they broke into the vault. He’d frozen up completely, as nervous as a fledgling boy. He was damned near thirty years old, he should have been able to do something. Anything at all. Shit, he’d wanted to. Run a hand through her hair. Pull one of her legs over his hip. Try to find where she’d hidden that gun… Just to be convincing. To the mercs who were watching. The patrolling mercs that he had forgotten about as soon as she started kissing him.

The door behind him slid open and Kasumi walked in, silent as the grave. She placed her greybox on her desk gently and sat on the couch on her side of the room, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on her knees.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he started to get up. Her voice was calm. He rose to his feet anyway.

“I was going to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said, gesturing to his cup. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.

“Pour me half a glass of that blue bottle up top, and fill the rest with the red juice in the fridge. I’m feeling like a party girl,” she said with a hiccuping laugh. Garrus couldn’t see her eyes under her hood, but he’d wager high creds that she was crying.

He did as she asked and brought it to her, sitting down on the other side of the same couch.

“Are you… alright?” he asked slowly. She took a few small sips from her glass before answering.

“Yes. And no,” she said. “I’m keeping the greybox. It’s all I have left of Keiji. But… I don’t think the commander approves. It was a hard conversation.”

Garrus nodded, staying quiet. He watched her wipe tears out from under her eyes.

“She said it was my decision. But that Keiji wouldn’t have wanted me to have a target on my back for the rest of my life. That he’d have wanted me to live in reality and not in the past. She was right.”

“She has a way of being right about things,” Garrus grumbled. “It’s pretty annoying.”

Kasumi laughed again, sniffled a little. “I got pissed at her anyway. I yelled. What does she know about what Keiji would have wanted? She doesn’t know him like I do. Nobody does,” she shook her head. “But she didn’t even get mad. She just gave me a hug and let me cry. She said she wouldn’t judge my choices. But I don’t know, Gare. It just… feels so wrong, to disappoint her. She’s so…” she trailed off, at a loss for words.

“I know,” Garrus said, setting his glass on the table. He leaned towards her a little, trying to see if he could catch the shine of her eyes. “Look, I’m not the best guy for this kind of advice. You know where loss sent me. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That’s something I’m… learning lately,” he admitted gruffly. “Give yourself some time. Keep it for now. But with the intention of saying goodbye,” he watched her nod slowly, clutching her glass with two hands and rubbing her knuckles for comfort. “Work your way towards being able to let it go, and then… I dunno. Blow it up over an ocean, or something. Jettison it into a star. Make it special.”

Kasumi smiled at him warmly. “Thanks Garrus. That sounds… nice. I’ll think about it.” She swung her legs to the floor and set her glass on the low table in front of her.

“No thanks necessary. A turian lives to serve.”

She snorted and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Right, sure. If we’re keeping score, you owed me, anyway.”

“How so?” Garrus asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Who do you think suggested you come with us?” She grinned devilishly. “After you shoved your foot in your mouth on Purgatory I thought maybe you could use a chance to get back in the lady’s good graces.”

Garrus’ jaw dropped. “Uh,” he scrambled, “Kas, we’re not, I’m not, uh,” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Could you hear the noises the giant bug orchestra in your chest was making when Hock was all over her? And when she was all over you?”

“You could hear that?” He asked, panicked. Most humans could tell something was playing underneath a turian’s primary vocals, but rarely could discern the difference between one tone and another. Their hearing was simply not sharp enough, their brains untrained to identify the nuances. It was something turians could often use to their advantage in interspecies engagement: a facade of emotional detachment was useful in negotiations of all kinds.

“I’m the best thief in the galaxy, Vakarian. I’ve got a few upgrades. Understanding how people feel is important in any kind of undercover work… as you know, detective.” There was an impish sparkle to her countenance that Garrus resented. There went the one advantage to being the only turian on this ship.

“The commander has a… a partner,” Garrus insisted, echoing the language Shepard used in their conversation on the Citadel. “He’s my friend, too. I’m not interested in getting mixed up in that. You can read whatever you want into my interactions with her, but we’re just friends. She’s important to me. I’m loyal to her. She’s… frustrating, sometimes. That’s all.” He hoped that was convincing enough. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince the most.

“Sure, Gare,” Kasumi said slyly. “Whatever you say. I’ll keep your little secret. But I don’t think it needs to be kept.”

Garrus was about to ask what she meant when the door to the room slid open and Shepard stumbled in out of breath. He stood quickly, almost dropping his drink.

“Jane. What’s happening?”

“Another colony is being hit. Now. I just set a course,” she gasped for breath, then locked gazes with him, her eyes filled with fear. “Garrus. It’s Kaidan.”

~~~~~~~~~ That's the end folks. Someday maybe in another ten years I'll post more lmao

#shakarian #garrus vakarian #garrus x femshep #shepard x garrus #garrus romance #mass effect 2 #fanfiction #jane shepard #femshep #mass effect #kasumi goto #I have adhd so I know that this is dialogue heavy and description-starved. I'd be better off writing screenplays but here i am

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themaeveschild · 9 months ago

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Mass Effect Trilogy Tag Game from @judithmactir and I tag literally anyone who follows me or trips over this or hate stalks me. Please enjoy.

My answers below cut.

I am a fan since:

Favourite game of the series?:

MShep or FShep?:

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer?:

Biotics or Tech:

Paragon or Renegade:

Favourite Class:

Favourite Companion:

Least favourite Companion:

My squad selection:

Favourite In-game romance:

Other pairings I like:

Favourite NPC:

Favourite Antagonist:

Favourite Mission:

Favourite Loyalty Mission:

Favourite DLC:

Control, Synthesis or Destroy:

Favourite Weapon:

Favourite Place:

A quote I like:

I am a fan since: 2010-ish because my DA friend Mena insisted I try it

Favourite game of the series?: ME2

MShep or FShep?: usually FShep but I do have a beloved chaos bisexual Logan MShep I adore

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer?: I have played all 3 but Colonist feels most relatable.

Biotics or Tech: Biotics because I am a mage in every game with something even magic adjacent

Paragon or Renegade: Paragrade. I want to help people in general, but some people need punching

Favourite Class: Vanguard or Sentinel

Favourite Companion: Zaeed

Least favourite Companion: Ashley just rubs me the wrong way

My squad selection: Kaidan/Garrus, Thane/Zaeed, Kaidan/Javik

Favourite In-game romance: see above and take a guess (it’s Kaidan/Thane/Kaidan…it would be Kaidan/Thane/Kaidan and Javik but it says in game so I must endure)

Other pairings I like: Garrus/Tali, Jack/Miranda

Favourite NPC: Bailey is the only valid cop still in c-sec after Garrus quit.

Favourite Antagonist: Saren. (Is it wrong that he’s the primary Turian that I want to bang?)

Favourite Mission: ME2 Suicide mission is so epic

Favourite Loyalty Mission: GRUNT

Favourite DLC: Leviathan

Control, Synthesis or Destroy: Synthesis is my favorite but I’ve done all 3 and also frequently Destroy for happy ending purposes. (Don’t harsh my buzz, killjoys)

Favourite Weapon: Widow Sniper rifle (yes I know it’s not technically the right weapon for my favorite classes but I don’t want to hear it)

Favourite Place: Ilos is so cool. I wish we could explore the whole planet.

A quote I like: Sir Isaac Newton is the deadliest son of a bitch in space!

#tag game #mass effect

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ficbrish · 2 years ago

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Snippet Saturday

[12Nov2022]

This is from Chapter 1 of my post-Horizon, pre-Suicide Mission ME2 Shenko reunion fic, “Weekend”

1 (”Reunion”)

Shepard opened her eyes and blinked up at the steel walls of Liara’s transport shuttle.

“Almost there,” said that steady, even voice.

“You sound like Valarian root.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s a plant.”

Her head buzzed with sobriety, but her body was electric with anticipation. Liara had let her shower while the drone washed the spacer outfit she'd arrived in, but Shepard still felt grody for the occasion. Last time she saw him she was wearing armor soaked in undead alien guts, but that was how he liked her. Now, she was dressed like a normal person and looked like everyone else.

“Is there anything I can say to get you to turn back?” Her tongue felt like lead, and her voice sounded different in her ears.

Liara shook her head. The largest smile was stuck on her face.

“You’re a sadist, LiLi.”

“I do love watching you squirm.”

Shepard came forward and sat next to her in the passenger seat. She meant to say things, anything, but dissociated for the rest of the ride.

They eventually pulled up to an Alliance base on some moon, somewhere. Whenever Shepard caught sight of that blue with that “A”, she had the strangest urge to run, wave her arms, and scream, “Hey! I’m right here!” like a lost child finally escaping its captors.

Stupid. As long as the Collectors were a threat she belonged to Cerberus—their puppet who could maybe pull her own strings.

“…cleared for landing,” Shepard heard over the comms.

“How are we cleared?” she asked. Everything about this place screamed secret.

“Shadow Broker shit, bitch!” Liara sang, and they laughed. It cut the tension.

They had come in the middle of the night there according to Liara’s data. Only one half-asleep guard was in the tower, and that was in another part of the compound away from the hangar. They landed in plain sight, in a room with no other people.

“Tight security,” Shepard remarked.

“It’s a school, not a base. I’ll let him tell you.” Liara said, jumping out of the shuttle door.

“Yeah, if he even talks to me. Wait… Wouldn’t he be asleep?” Shepard asked, following Liara out and almost tripping.

“Kaidan doesn’t sleep,” she stated plainly.

“Oh… okay?” Shepard shrugged.

“He said it in his letter. He’s been a mess since you—Well... Now keep your voice down,” she said, crouching low behind some crates.

“How do you know about the letter?”

“I said keep your voice down!”

“Liara!”

“You told me about it,” she whispered loudly, moving across the room and ducking behind a nearby Alliance shuttle. As Liara's little blue head disappeared behind it, Shepard wondered if he ever rode in that shuttle.

“I did not! I did not tell you about the letter.”

“Whisper!”

“Liara!” Shepard whisper-exclaimed.

“What?”

“You’re reading my mail!”

“I’m the Shadow Broker. I read everyone’s mail!”

“Liara!”

“This way,” Liara gestured, and Shepard followed her into a hallway.

It was a bleak place, but maybe that’s only how it looked at night. Everything was the Alliance standard of sparse. Nothing was design, it was all function. Most people hated that, but to Estrella, it was special. She always thought it made the people stand out. She felt a pang of ache for the Normandy SR-1 and those on it.

“This is stupid, LiLi.”

“Everything we do is stupid. Now let’s have fun!”

Liara grabbed her hand and started running. Shepard thought they were in trouble until she heard Liara laughing. They passed a few doors. Then Liara suddenly halted, slamming them around a corner.

“Ssshhh,” she hushed over her broken laughter.

Shepard snorted.

Then they heard a noise further down the hallway and bolted for real.

Shepard didn’t know where she was headed, she just followed Liara—who probably knew where they should be going. The situation was completely out of control, and the freedom of it was intoxicating.

“This way!” Liara panted, and they slowed down to make a right turn down another corridor. They caught their breath and continued on in a careful stroll.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast, T’soni,” Shepard teased lamely.

“I usually don’t like to run. I’d rather face things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything," Liara answered. "Why are you stopping?”

“I wanna know what you meant.”

“Nothing! What? We have to keep going.”

“You think I run from my problems?!”

The look of panic on Liara’s face told her those words had hit home.

“I don’t run!” Shepard insisted.

Liara shrugged, “I mean you should, I’m just saying.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked, but didn’t give Liara any time to answer, “I don’t run! I literally, literally, am going on a suicide mission to save the galaxy, with the help of racist terrorists, who I loathe, because they're all I've got! What about any of that says running? Huh?! Because I would like to know.”

That stupid smile was on her face again.

“I would also like to know what in the fuck you’re smiling about," she continued, "I don’t like that smile. And I’m here, aren’t I?! If I was running, would I be here?”

Liara waved cheerfully to someone behind her. Shepard froze, her eyes widening as she witnessed Liara's greeting in slow motion.

Shepard couldn’t feel her body, just his tortured voice on her back.

“Hello, Shepard.”

#shenko #snippet saturday #mass effect #mass effect 2 #BrishFics #liara t'soni #kaidan alenko #weekend fic

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nulfaga · 2 years ago

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Ok i will definitely have to do custom brows for me2 at least. I can live with the buzz cuts they give you but i would like to do a custom face texture that's fucked up and exhausted looking. And if it's possible to remove those horrible lashes then by Jove i must

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garrustiddies · 4 years ago

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Wait....in the legendary edition can you edit your shep from game to game?? Bc I'd love my shep to have long hair in ME1 and then a buzz cut in ME2 since...you know...she was completely physically reconstructed and all

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crqstalite · 4 years ago

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from the scrap pile.

yet another bit of scraps, this time from that time i told myself to novelize me2. obviously, didnt go over well (tl;dr, not enough kaidan for what i was planning to do with a sort of ‘series’), but there are some bits im really proud of in here (i’ll post lali + joker’s interaction in a bit so i can stagger these)

...possible warnings? it’s a combat scene. basically. mass effect 2. kinda worked as an introduction for annika post me1.

Kodelyn hears Miranda's voice from just beyond where she'd entered the alley, though there's an extra pair of boots that she makes out, and she pauses to lift the med-kit with her.

Distracted so easily, she only just makes out a hooded figure before she can pull a weapon. She's knocked off balance so quickly by a kick on the ankles she can't even register what's going on until her head hits the ground, hard, with a heavy boot on her chest holding her down and a glowing blue hand above her that holds a pistol aimed for her head. She barely makes out the sight of bullets flying at the person above her, though the blue corona flickers into a shield, blocking them as the shells fall to the ground harmlessly. She picks up the quiet sound of biotics thrumming above her, hearing Mordin's voice and a grunt from Miranda. They'd gotten hit by something, or each other. Her head swims, groaning as she blinks away dirt from her eyes. She can see stars in her eyelids as she squeezes them closed, trying to regain any sense of balance she still had. There'd be a knot on the back of her skull later, she knows it.

Fear bubbles up in her throat, painkillers flooding her senses and numbing the shock. She's not wearing a helmet, hence the buzzing feeling that's starting to come over her. Her shields had to still be intact, but they couldn't take a shot at point blank range if they decided to shoot. Who knew who this even was? Some rogue biotic with a chip on their shoulder for her? It wasn't like she hadn't made it clearly obvious who she was, with the armor, N7 patch and all.

She's beginning to feel herself spiral as the boot grows heavier on her chest, straining to breathe properly. Kodelyn's chest feels like it's constricting in on itself, but the rational part of her knows she's panicking, reliving old events. Had been one of the first things the N7 training had taught her how to regulate. Her eyes dart around for those terrifying few seconds, stars dancing across her vision at dizzying speed. Cotton feels like it's filling her ears, the hissing noise of something that sends a jolt through her body joining it.

She considers her options in that split second that her attacker's attention is split between her and her ground team, before wrenching the other person off their feet with a shove to the shins that knocks them off balance. They stumble into a wall, Kodelyn jumping for the chance to close in for a melee hit with her omni-tool glowing a menacing orange on her wrist. She doesn't get the chance before her attacker hits back with a biotic kick to her side, knocking the wind out of her. She's slow to reactivate her omni-tool, eventually realizing pulling her SMG on them would do more harm than good if they chose to use a shield. They take swift advantage of her incompetence in that moment she spends considering. Her attacker punches her a few more times with glowing fists, strategically placing Kodelyn in between them and Miranda and Mordin as she takes the onslaught. A sound strategy, she has to admit, as much as her body throbs at the idea. Seeing this, Kodelyn clumsily struggles to get the upper hand on them, her bulky armor taking a majority of the blows but still leaving places where she's sure she'll bruise.

Eventually, she does get behind them. Thinking it's over, she pulls her pistol out, pointing it at her attacker, who in the dim light whips around. Time slows down as their corona fully comes out, blue lighting their surroundings like a strike of lightning, her attacker charging her biotically. It formulates in her mind then and there that she's been cornered by who they’d been looking for, or at least someone who worked for them. However, she doesn't have long to even say anything before the force catches up to her and sends her skidding backwards onto the pavement. She can't breathe for those few moments, feeling weightless before the ground rushes up to meet her, slamming her back down onto the ground at an awkward angle. Pain shoots up her back as she struggles to draw a breath.

Now she's definitely sure she's gained another bruise, if not a few broken ribs at the same time.

Her hand to hand instructor would be pissed with her if he saw her now. Then again, all the biotics they knew of by that point were all Alliance, there hadn't been a need to learn to fight against them while they were on your side. These vanguards were too much of a wild card to reliably predict how to safely counteract their biotic charges short of literally side stepping them when you saw them coming.

If, you saw them coming.

Still, this was just embarrassing now, her reaction time had been slow and sluggish. Probably why it'd been so easy for them to get the jump on her. Either the Illusive Man or her sister were watching her suit cam, and she'd probably have to answer for a few things when she got back to the Normandy. And maybe take Jacob up on that offer to get some combat training in for the crew.

"Shepard!" Mordin's voice rings through her ears as Miranda closes in on the person. The Salarian offers her a hand up after side stepping the dueling pair, and she gratefully takes it while he pulls up his omni-tool. Blue lights the small space as Miranda throws the other person, though they expected that and counter with a shield, narrowly avoiding the warp she throws out moments later. It's enough of a distraction that she fumbles around for her own Carnifex, and takes steady aim in between the scuffle. Pulling the trigger, the bullet hits the attacker directly in the left arm, a clang sounding and reverberating against the walls of the side street.

A clang?

Her first thought is that it's a robot. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, unless the biotics were just for show and some trick of the light. Yet, the high impact of the shot distracts them long enough for Miranda to get a solid biotic flare in, and they tumble backwards, skidding on their boots into a crouched position. Only then does Kodelyn notice the small party of onlookers they've gathered, and shoots off a bullet in the distance to scare them off. They scurry in different directions, and only then does she approach the still shrouded person. Maybe they've accepted they've been caught, darting a glance to the operative and scientist who have their guns pulled on them. It's easy enough to goad them into moving out of the alley and into the light, though they don't look happy about it in the slightest.

She waves Miranda off to face them properly, the person rubbing their jaw with a grey, metallic hand. Able to focus better on who had admittedly taken her down rather well, purple-blue eyes flicker back at her, a red scarf covering the bottom half of their pale face. A hood is over their head, so she can't discern what color their hair is. A scar runs through their eye, still raised and red.

It takes her a moment to pull herself together, wiping away blood from where the impact had split her lip, "Widow, I presume?"

They don't answer for a moment, eyes narrowing at her. A chill runs down her spine.

"And you think your name is Shepard?" The deep feminine voice asks suspiciously, eyes darting down to the N7 patch on her chest. They scoff, "I'll have to say, Verner doesn't have anything on you. The similarities are nearly uncanny."

She can't place the voice. Maybe distorted through her ears, maybe because the accent isn't clear cut. Either way, they cross their arms and storm ahead, "You're not the real Shepard. A copy, maybe. Plastic surgery? Some Alliance officer to calm us all down? They tried that one for a while."

Alliance officer? That was a little terrifying to think about, in retrospect. Still, that wasn't her focus right then, steeling her tone from wavering, "My name is Shepard. Maybe I should be grateful I'm being recognized at all."

"You're the same person who's been trailing us," Miranda muses out loud, "If you don't think this is her -- which it is -- then why bother coming after her? A form of revenge?"

They skirt the question, "I don't know how you managed to find me here, or why Cerberus wants me, but you're going after the Collectors, I presume. Took someone long enough to realize they're the real enemy here."

"I doubt the galaxy is just in denial," Kodelyn responds, reholstering her pistol from where it'd been in her hands, "Colonies have been disappearing for months. It isn't so easily ignored."

"You talk as if you've been alive for the last two years. There were a lot of people who thought you were dead, Shepard. Think they even had a parade for you somewhere on Earth," They say matter-of-factly, as if they're saying she doesn't already know, "I don't know what your deal is, but I've got better things to do than duel with your sub-par combat skills."

Their omni-tool pings on their wrist when they trail off before Kodelyn can say anything, and they shove Mordin out of their path to leave the alley. They turn over their shoulder as an afterthought, shrugging for them to follow.

"Shepard, you can't tell me you think this is in any way a good idea." Miranda hisses out in a whisper, watching as they turn the corner, "They could be a liability going forward if they attacked you for thinking you were a clone. We might be better off going after Archangel ourselves."

"Operative Lawson is correct. Choosing mercenary who tried to kill you, poor choice, Shepard." Mordin nods, "Would much rather work with someone less...problematic."

Something rubs her the wrong way about Widow, and she files their opinions away for thought when the real choice came to fruition. If she could have both, and it turned out they weren't interested in putting a bullet in her back, then it might work in her favor. But considering the fact they'd just laid her out then and there on the concrete, she didn't have high hopes for option one.

"I'm sure you can guess why we're here then, we need you for this fight," Kodelyn catches up to their shorter stride, but they don't even answer her, "But I'm guessing you're not budging until you finish here."

"Hm, then they remade you with a brain. Comforting." They nod, metal fingers flying over the keyboard of her 'tool, "Then if you know everything about me, then I'm guessing you know about the vendetta I have against Archangel." Kodelyn nods, and they pause by another apartment door, waving their omni-tool over it, "Bastard has caused me some...problems, since I've been here. If I'm going off to do something with a lower survival rate than living here, I'd rather be assured he won't be taunting me from the land of the living."

"You want him dead."

#kodelyn shepard #annika johansson

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spoopyghostgirl · 5 years ago

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And now is my canon Shepard, Jax

Name: Jackson James Shepard

Nickname(s): Jax, James, Jim, Shep, Sheepy

Gender: Male

Age: 27 years old (ME1)

Birthday: November 18th

Previous Homeworld: Earth

Current Homeworld: None recently

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Race: Mixed

Voice: Tucker, Red VS Blue

Personality: Jax is a very lighthearted person, easy to make laugh, and quick to smile. Despite his immensely sunny demeanor, he finds it difficult to relate to others, not for s lack of trying but because he is very shy. That is, unless he is working and then he is a firm, no nonsense, straight forward man.

Family or Relatives: His mother is Amelia Shepard, originally from England. His father is Admiral Hackett, though their relationship was hidden given his mother and fathers places within the alliance. The pair met during a search and rescue mission, Amelia pulling Hackett from behind enemy lines. He thought she was an angel sent to deliver his immortal soul. Waking up later, he was very embarrassed but it ended up working in his favor, since the beautiful lieutenant came to visit him several times during his hospital stay, and if Jax is any sign, those visits continued long after he was released.

Relationships: He originally has a relationship with Tali, though that relationship is ended when she discovers he works for Cerberus (and that he may or may not have taken up casually sleeping with Hades). He later develops feelings for Jack, joking that he has a thing for scary women before ultimately ending that relationship.

Morality: Lawful Good

Pre-Service History: Spacer. Given that both of his parents are high ranking service members, and that his parents were trying to be discrete about both their relationship and Jax's parentage, the young Jax spent most of his time bouncing between ships.

Psychological Profile: War Hero

Addictions: Caffeine, mostly becoming attached to it post promotion in ME1 since he has access to some really nice coffee/espresso. Later becomes addicted to the suped up version that Hades introduces him to when they visit her homeworld. After that, Earth coffee doesn't cut it.

Role model(s): Captain Anderson, his fathers closest friend and one of the biggest players when it came to hiding Jax's parentage. His mother, who despite becoming pregnant during the peak of her career, never slowed down, and achieved greatness. The Spectres, a group of highly trained warriors from several races across the galaxy.

Beliefs: He isn't particularly religious but he does believe in an afterlife. Would suck if you died and that was it.

Habits: Drumming his fingers on desks and his thighs when stressed. Humming to himself in difficult situations, whether on the field or waiting for important calls/meetings. Messing with the paint on his armor whenever he needs to keep his hands or mind busy. Has definitely rushed out on a mission in mismatched armor, thanks to getting interrupted mid repaint.

Hobbies: Plays the cello, something his mother had him learn as a child. Enjoys dancing, also took ballet lessons as a child, which later came in handy in his line of work. Likes painting with Hades, the pair taking turns as each others canvases. Building models (really just legos) and vegging out and watching old vids.

Source of Anger/Hatred: Racism, whether its humans or aliens mistreating each other or people of the same race mistreating each other. Childish people, mistreatment of the less fortunate. Cerberus. Hades shitty family.

Source of Sadness/Sorrow: Lossing loved ones. Losing a good portion of his team defending colonists during a raid. Finding out the awful shit his friends and crew have gone through.

Source of Fear/Phobia: Hates spiders, despite there being other things to fear in the galaxy. Hates heights, it's one thing to be in a ship but a completely different thing to be walking around somewhere high up or near large glass windows in high places. Definitely gets teased about it.

Likes: Music, especially electric music, music that gets you moving. Exercising, though he had prefer methods of exercising. Spicy food, especially anything with jalapenos in it. The colors yellow, blue, and green. Likes taking walks at night and singing along to whatever music is playing. Big animal guy, couldn't have any as a child so as an adult, he goes to shelters, volunteers to walk dogs and other animals that need some love.

Dislikes: Sitting still or being idle, he understands when its necessary but hates when it makes him feel useless or trapped. Not big into heavy foods, they make him sleepy, and a sleepy soldier is a dead one. Does not like the quiet, having grown up on a military vessel, he was constantly around other people. Makes him uncomfortable at the prospect of being in his own room. Can be found sleeping in an open bunk in the communal sleeping area.

Weight: 220 lbs

Height: 6'4

Build: Lean Muscular

Scar(s): Scar on his left back shoulder blade that looks like a several pointed star, was shot in the back close range. Another scar on his right forearm that look like little shots of lightning, from being electrocuted.

Tattoo(s): Several on his upper bicep, both arms and shoulder blades. They vary in what they are. Some are local fauna that he saw on different ships and colonies he's been to/on. Has an N7 tattoo under his right collar bone, about his peck.

Skin Tone: Depends on direct sunlight. His skin tone is normally a warm mocha with some honey brown tones in his cheeks, chest, and arms. Other times, if he has shore leave somewhere sunny, he can get closer to more of a milk chocolate tone. He was dark when he was younger but his skin tone has gotten a bit lighter as he got older.

Facial Features: Strong, high cheek bones. A more square chin and full lips. Long dark lashes, around a pair of granny Smith green eyes. His nose is slightly bulbed, a trait he acquired from his father. In his later he had his right brow and septum pierced but removed both when he join the military.

Hair Style: He normally has it grown out and braided but the military requires him to keep it short. Is normally just a flat buzz cut but, when he is relieved of duty before ME3 he has grown it out again and taken to dreading it.

Hair color: A midnight brown, almost black.

Eye color: Granny Smith green.

Eye Style: Almond shaped eyes. Regularly called expesssive, making him a rather bad liar.

Helmet: Death mask Helmet

Visor Optics/Lens: Archon visor

Armor set: N7 Defender Armor

Utility Attachment: Ordance Packs (increases amount of ammo that can be carried)

Primary Colour: Matte black

Secondary Colour: seafoam green

Tertiary Colour: Eggshell yellow

Casual Clothing: Big into plaid button ups and crew neck t shirts. Occasionally wears v necks and cut offs. Has a black leather jacket with a hood that is his go to jacket. Wears slim fitting jeans and either dress shoes (preferably brown) or nice tennies.

Faction/Occupation/Affiliation: Commander of the Alliance/Council Spectre ME1, Cerberus Commander/operative ME2, Council Spectre ME3

Artificial Intelligence(A.I)/Companion: EDI whenever necessary or available

Allies/Friends: ME crew, Hades, Councilman Zeus.

Rivals/Frienemies: Hades, mostly in a friendly fashion when it comes to getting things done faster. The Council, since they seem to love and hate him.

Nemesis/Enemies: Cerberus, post ME2

Class: Solider/Adept

Category Threat Level: 9 ME1, 12 ME2 + 3

Rank: Commander/Spectre

Standard/Modified Weapons:

1. Diamond Back X Assault Rifle

2.M-98 Widow Anti-Material Rifle

3. Cobra X line pistol

Armor Abilities(AA):

1. Kinetic Exoskeleton

2. Shock absorbers

Genetic Augmentation: Is a biotic with an M3 implant. Was chosen for advance biotics during his early Alliance days. Occasionally gets nose bleeds and headaches when over using biotics.

Supernatural Powers: None

Skills/Specialization: Jax is an exceptional biotic, his main go to attacks being throw and shockwave. While he primarily uses his biotics, he had made sure he is still very skilled within close range with pistols, combat knives, mid range with an SMG, and is at least adept when it comes to long range with a sniper.

#mass effect #mass effect 1 #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3 #mass effect spectre #original male shepard #original shepard #oc: Jackson James Shepard #oc: Jax Shepard

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