Graphic from this post here! I have no writing ideas for the next two days, so I think I'll return to this for Day 10! Another flashback, and it's a direct follow up from yesterdays prompt. Implied canon appropriate violence.
Yeehawgust Masterlist
The Old West vaudeville show started off seamlessly, with everyone hitting their marks, their targets, and mugging for the audience just so. Turian heavy crowd tonight, and the fancy trick shots didn’t garner the usual awed reaction. In truth, it got a few of you sharing nervous looks and sweating under the collar - a crowd this size, there were bound to be veterans of the First Contact war. Who's to say how a bunch of disgruntled, probably drunk old soldiers, might escalate. Fortunately, the crew hit their stride and the sharpshooter stunts got a number out of their seats cheering.
Noted. Flashy trick shots a no. Skilled sharpshooting a yes. Nothing too fanciful for this crowd, apparently.
It’s the end of your act and you holster the Sidewinder with a spinning flourish; this always gets a cheer from humans or asari. Tough crowd tonight. Not a single acknowledgement except for a little one standing in his mother’s lap. The child stops pulling at his parent’s carapace long enough to imitate the gesture. Sends you grinning all the way off stage.
You’re wondering who you’ll be assigned to schmooze with afterwards, when the same mysterious turian from before waves you over. There’s a second of hesitation as you weigh the shortest pro/con list of your life (Pro: He’s local security, or; Con: He’s local security). You’d alert your handler if he hadn’t reamed you out over your last voiced concern. Yapping on about needing a babysitter. A hand to hold.
With that in mind, and a rapidly plummeting stomach, you approach the armed stranger.
No introductions, no conversational tone; as soon as you’re within arms length he pivots towards the elevator doors. “Your partner’s on the top level. Follow me.”
What the fuck? You look back towards the dressing room door, but he grabs your shoulder and steers you to the elevator. It’s a quiet ride up, your thoughts consumed with what in all hell was going on. You took solace in the fact that turians tended to kill a person where they stood, and felt moderately secure that your life was not in immediate danger.
Still, not even an hour previous you were wishing to never meet this guy in a dark alley, and here you are, stepping out into a dark corridor with him. He stops at the entry into an empty mezzanine, you nearly jump out your boots as your handler quietly acknowledges your presence. Washed out in emergency lighting, he’s perched at the railing, a Volkov sniper rifle aimed at someone in the audience.
“What is going on?” You hiss.
“Can you shoot, or is it just for show?” The turian’s calm, quiet voice only puts you more on edge. He pushes you towards the railing as you hesitate.
“Ow, ok. I can shoot, yes.” You won awards for it, of course you can damn well shoot. "I'm very good."
“Then you’re conscripted, follow me.”
“Hold on, on whose authority-”
“Spectre authority.” Your handler sounds about as thrilled about this as… well, as an Alliance operative forced to submit to a spectre agent. You’re stuck, mind reeling from the sudden, drastic, change of events. Waiting for something. Anyone, to explain what the hell was going on.
“On my six, Scarecrow.” The turian spectre calls. “Lets see how good you are against live targets.”
Graphic from this post here! I didn't have anything for yesterday, so starting fresh this Monday with a new entry. Things get a bit dicey so adding some cw: nausea mention, language, canon appropriate violence/wounds, description of alien blood.
Masterlist of Yeehawgust entries
Merri and Dahal trail behind you as all three follow the wake of destruction left by the crash landing. Happy enough for any excuse to avoid the half-assed investigation back at the tower, the two of them volunteered their assistance, and are now hypothesizing on who might be flying (crashing) the ship. Pirates? Joyriders? Ghost ship? They had many questions and theories on what lay ahead.
Merri raises his voice, calling ahead to you. “You have any thoughts, Interim Supervisor?” Little shit, you think with a smile.
“I have concerns.”
“Oh yeah?”
You click your comm device to see if Kath and Ayasha have restored power or communications. Nothing. Not even a burst of static. You gesture with the stun rifle to purple furred, six legged creatures, prowling the opposite ridge of the newly formed trench. “They're getting braver each time they sneak up to the edge.”
Merri follows your gaze, raising a hand to block the glare of the sun. He doesn't seem particularly worried. “Those fellas, they're curious, is all. Native species. Uh - behaviour wise? In the animal kingdom? Equivalent to an earth coyote.”
“Your historical western films say coyotes are varmints. Bad news.” Dahal quips.
“Sure sure, they get a bad rap but…”
You pick up the pace, letting the cacophony of nature, and the eerie groaning of the downed ship drown out their lively voices. You don't consider yourself superstitious, but too many cursed things happen out past the agro-walls. You weren't interested in one such thing happening to you. Glad you kept your Sidewinder holstered on your belt, and you give it a reassuring pat. Yes, yes, you understand the directive to use non lethal force on the creatures, but you sure as hell ain’t dying for research’s sake.
“What the fuck…” You mutter, circling around to the ship’s airlock, which is aiming up to the heavens. The name and logo are branded proudly along the outer hull. “This belongs to Demeter’s Pride!” You shout back to the others. One of the ships reserved for shipments between human colonies. How the fuck it crashed on its own colony, and why the fuck colony security hadn’t scrambled yet are more things to add on to your growing list of concerns.
It set you on your back foot for a second, before you give yourself a good shake and scramble up the side of the airlock. It meant you’d have access to it, at the very least. Still, you wait for the others to join you before entering the security key. You were a capable loner, but you weren’t a fool. Who’s to say what’s waiting on the other side.
A whole lot of nothing, it seems.
The inside of the ship is eerily empty. You’d never seen one not packed to the gills with cargo, felt weird seeing it without its purpose. Made you wonder if it was interrupted mid drop-off/pick-up.
“Guys, guys, GUYS!” Merri had bee-lined to the cockpit, now he’s fussing up a storm. Both you and Dahal turn to watch him cover his mouth and wretch before leaning back out into the cargo bay. Dahal’s long strides bring her to him in an instant, pulling him out of the doorway.
Inside, stretched out across the floor is the body of a turian, soaking in a pool of his own dark blue blood. The back of his armor is riddled with what looks like multiple close range ballistic damage. You step in to get a better look and spot the striking white colony markings across his face, crest, and mandibles. Looks like the damn grim reaper, all skeletal in appearance.
For a second you swear you see his finger twitch and as you lean closer a pained gargle escapes him. "Holy shit, fuck balls, goddamnnit." An unending stream of unhelpful cussing pours from you.
You’re already ripping into the medkit you hauled up here. It only had a single pack of turian medi-gel, you were on a fucking human colony, it makes sense. Still, you curse the limited supply.
“Dahal, get your ass in here!”
Maybe Dahal has something. You struggle to release the latches of his armor, your fingers slipping through the streaks of blood and grime. Fingers are stained blue and shaking by the time you rip the damn thing off and apply what little aid you have.
You’ve crossed paths with this one. Don’t know his name. Don’t know him other than the rumours that follow him. Other than that he’s a Spectre, the best of the best, the Council’s ruthless arm of justice. Justice, you sneer.
What the hell is he doing here? On a human colony, dying in your arms? His eyes blink open and focus on you for a second.
“Scarecrow?” He wheezes, before losing consciousness once more.
Graphic from this post here! I had a super busy day so this one is squeaking in under midnight. Literally just sat down and wrote it now, apologies for spelling/grammar/ story issues lol.
Masterlist of Yeehawgust entries
The watchtower unit sits on the border of wild and managed lands. To the east lay crop fields stretching out past the horizon, further than the human eye could see. To the west grew wild, untameable lands, held back just barely by a reinforced boundary wall.
You stand on the viewing deck, pretending not to listen to the interrogation of it’s remaining keepers. There’s only three left, Merri and Kath, human transplants from Eden Prime, and Dahal, a Salarian microbiologist.
A half klick down the wall, movement catches your eye. A metal plate catches in the wind, swinging wide before slamming back into the wall. Hard to tell this far away, but something odd looking was stuck in the inner workings behind the loose panel.
You clear your throat. "When and where was Supervisor Carter last seen?"
“Oh, hm. Yes, along that wall. First security panel.” Dahal had been standing idly, blinking slowly at the holo-projected investigators. Ones that couldn’t be bothered to come out in person. Now, she walks over and points to the section that initially caught your eye. Both Merri and Kath turn, thoroughly distracted.
The investigators aren't appreciative of the derailment but neither do they act out further than poorly concealed expressions. Ayasha eyes you carefully, as if she’s only now remembering your presence. You’d rather not have too much of her attention.
“I need to check that out.” Word’s muttered under your breath, to yourself, but Dahal latches on.
“Yes, yes. Let Dahal show you.” She says, speaking in third person. A quirk of the translator?
One investigator shakes his head. “We’re still asking questions, interim supervisor.” They lay some stink into that word. Raises your hackles. But you shrug. Wouldn’t take long for their sham of an investigation to be over. You’d let them power trip.
“Dahal isn’t under your jurisdiction. And interim supervisor knows nothing. Just arrived.” The salarian announces. “We will not take part without proper authorization.” She seems quite pleased with herself.
The humans snicker.
Ayasha tsks in annoyance. “Well then. Please hold your conversation outside this room.”
You offer a cordial smile. “Didn’t mean to kick up a row, sirs, ma’am. Carry on with your interview, we’ll be back before you’re done.”
You head to the tower stairwell and Dahal bounds after you, her long legs closing the distance in no time at all.
“How do you humans say it? We are setting out on our own? Breaking from the herd, yes?”
You chuckle, “Sure, something like that.”
Dahal ducks to prevent her horns from smacking into the upper door sill and waits for it to seal shut before speaking. “Supervisor Carter was investigating the first security panel when the cameras went down. Last place seen. Strange not to investigate further. Both Kath and Merri agree.”
“You’re not interested in sitting back and letting the investigation play out, Dahal?”
“What investigation?” She huffs.
You like this one, but you’ll play things close to the chest until you’ve found your footing here. “Seem overly invested in this, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“For a salarian microbiologist?”
You nod. “I was gonna say for a liaison researcher, but sure. Yeah. For a salarian microbiologist. That too.”
She holds up a three fingered hand in a gesture unfamiliar to your uncultured human mind, when the ever present hum of the surrounding tech falls silent. There's an overwhelming rush of noise, followed by a sensation of ears popping, and you fight the urge to duck and hide as a roaring shadow overtakes the tower. The top antenna gets wrenched from its holding as a low-flying ship goes soaring off kilter over the wall. Crashes into the alien forest, carving a wide trench into the claustrophobic flora.
You close your eyes, gathering your patience before turning to Dahal. Had a feeling you’d be earning every credit of your hazard pay on this contract.
Graphic from this post here! | Masterlist of Yeehawgust entries
The ride out to the west gate watchtower is the most quiet you've had since arriving planetside. The only other shuttle passenger is Ayasha from the starport’s admin office. She’s armpit deep in neverending paperwork, can't chat. Has her nose glued to a datapad, murmuring about shareholder something or others.
Leaves you with nothing to do but stare out the window, wondering over the likelihood of this disappeared person being swept under the rug like all the others. Very likely, you reckon. Especially considering the manner in which you've been asked to take over as interim supervisor. (read between the lines, hint, wink, nudge) An understanding to keep your eyes open and ears to the ground, quietly suss out what’s happened. Oh, and of course, try not to act surprised when the official investigation announces no foul play.
The governor's office was up to something, and none of it was good.
Beyond the window, freshly overturned soil and the dusty ever-present construction of the starport eventually transitions to vibrant fields and greener pastures. Despite the circumstance, you’re glad to leave the dreary bustle of the port behind. Had enough of that back home, you hadn’t travelled out to the new frontier to be trapped in small metal rooms and concrete surfaces.
Even with her limbs burning and oxygen hissing out of her suit, Sheppard could not help but marvel at the vast beauty of space. Stars twinkled amongst the purple and pinks of a far off nebula while planets and moons reflected the brilliant light of their local suns. Infinity laid itself bare before Sheppard, naked and raw, and she found comfort in its empty company. After all, this was the only company allowed in death.
Her lungs stuttered for breath, but pain eluded her. What should have been agony was instead peace. Maybe that was the universe's gift to Sheppard.
i am going to write more drabbles! i finally need to start writing for real so i‘d love it if you voted for which of those mass effect characters you‘d like to read about
which mass effect character should be featured in my drabble (main focus is on them)
Shepard didn’t really remember much of what had happened after shooting the power conduit to release a bunch of energy across the galaxy. She knew the choices that she was making, the sacrifices that would entail for making that. However this was her mission all along: Stop the reapers. Stop the cycle from happening time and time again. It didn’t matter their reasoning, it didn’t matter why they were harvesting species. What mattered was that no matter the cost, they were stopped. Even if that meant having to rebuild.
Her fate felt sealed, one sacrifice in the grand scheme of things didn’t matter. She was content with dying and not coming back this time. If that meant saving the galaxy and billions upon billions of individuals that’s all that mattered to her. What she wasn’t expecting though was to manage to survive it. Maybe it was a stroke of luck? Maybe this was her fate, to be too stubborn to die. Who knew. Either way, she let out a gasp as a breath entered her lungs.
Stiffness was the way she would describe her body, and having sharp needles poked into every part of her body. Her injuries from before were still there but she was still alive? Her eyes fluttered open and she tried pushing herself up. It took every ounce of strength to even start to get herself up. Loud groans escaped her with each movement that she made, and as she was gaining more clarity to everything she looked around and saw the destruction all around her.
What was a massive galactic powerhouse, holding the brightest minds, being the center of commerce was reduced to a barely held together set of ruins. It was no different than the ruins of a civilization at this point. But it was still together, and theoretically it could be rebuilt. Who knew how long that would take or if it would be deemed worth it to even rebuilt. Would anyone even explore these ruins? Was she just destined to die of starvation instead of dying as part of a valiant sacrifice?
More importantly though, what happened to the crew of the Normandy? Were they able to make it through the blast without much problem? Were they mourning her? She didn’t know, but what she knew was that she wouldn’t want them to mourn for long. It’s probably better to just move on with their lives, whatever that may entail in this new galaxy now that the reapers were no longer a thing.
More groans were let out as she pushed herself up some more, managing to get on her feet momentarily before falling back down. Her whole body was still gravely injured after all. Using the power of stubbornness, she managed to get herself back up and walking again. At least a little bit. Where was she walking to and what was the purpose of this? She had no idea. She hadn’t expected to live. All she was doing was wandering aimlessly, without purpose. Her eyes scanned around the area seeing the ruins that went out as far as the eye could see.
All she could do was hope that someone managed to find her at this point. But who would even be around...?
Shepard scrolled down the screen of her datapad. The assignment didn't make sense to her. She was to be transported to the SSV Normandy, a prototype Alliance frigate, where she would serve as the Executive Officer under Captain Anderson. The Normandy would be taken on its maiden voyage – a test run to Eden Prime – during which the state-of-the-art stealth system would be tested and analysed. Up until that point it was straight forward. The extra details were confusing. The Normandy was co-designed by the turians – which was odd, considering the not-so-distant war between turians and humans – and backed financially by the Citadel Council. In other words, the most important species in Council space were working together for the first time to create a special stealth vessel, and were then handing it over to the humans.
It was good that the races were finally cooperating, what with all the interspecies disputes, but there was something strange about the whole thing. The mission to Eden Prime should take no longer than a day to complete, not including the systems analysis and reports. A skeleton crew could easily have handled the assignment. However, she had a full crew complement, which included some of the most decorated and noteworthy soldiers in the Alliance. Why such a force? Why send the likes of Anderson and Shepard on such a menial assignment? And why was Eden Prime, not a military base, the destination for the test run?
The fact that the Normandy's main feature was her innovative stealth drive made Shepard think it had something to do with covert operations. The technology to appear invisible to sensors and tracking devices was certainly designed with secrecy in mind. But espionage work on Eden Prime? The colony was practically a utopia – a human haven on the border of the Terminus Systems that was home to peaceful families, archaeologists, and farmers. It didn't add up.
