Hello viewers! I wish to explain this. For those of you that know the fate of my last story, no worries, I have three copies of this one, so if I lose it, it will be on purpose. But onto the story. I present to you a story with two Shepards, sister and brother. It may be a slightly overuse prompt but it is still entertaining! I'm starting out post ME1, just after the destruction of the Normandy. I also plan on making Jack and Kasumi more involved than the other characters because Kasumi wasn't given proper dialogue and Jack's story just feels unfinished unless you romance her so. Anyone who knows me, knows I love Shep/Tali romance so that will be one romance. I'm sure you will figure out the other one by yourself. It's not hard. Really, it isn't. Just read the story. It's Garrus. Choices made in ME1 are but not excluded to Wrex is saved, Ashley killed on Virmire, Kirrahe saved as well, saved Council. I'll leave Rachni Queen and other smaller decisions to voters since most don't seem to matter much in Mass Effect 2. Another thing. I imagine my Shepards as mostly paragons with Renegade mixed in healthily.

Johanna put her cigarette in her mouth and took a long inhale from the cancer stick as the robber held his gun at her head. At first glance, she was a person that most rational people wouldn't mess with. Light Hopelite armor made her look more the part of a strong frontline fighter, more so than she actually was, because by no means was she a woman incapable of handling herself. However, she didn't wear the helmet that came with it, giving away her unusually thin form and medium length bright red hair. Bored green eyes stared down the man with the gun, their cold malice trying to warn the man from continuing his robbery. A long thin scar started from the left corner of her mouth and trailed all the way to her left eye. The robber pressed the cold barrel of the gun against her head and bared his teeth. In response, she blew the smoke from her cigarette in his face, clearly seeing this man as an obvious junkie. "Are you gonna demand something? Or just stare at me?" She finally mentioned, the man not demanding money or anything of value yet.

"I want your credits!" He yelled at the top of his voice. Shepard sighed and rolled her eyes, not sure why she had expected something more interesting. God forbid she runs into a hair thief once in a while.

"Nothing more interesting? I have a Karpov X and top of the line armor, but you want just regular credits. That's just fucking stupid. I can hold, what, a thousand, maybe two thousand credits at once. This stuff can go for over ten thousand credits each and that's if you don't haggle." She badgered the man. The man growled at this and pressed the gun harder into her forehead. She didn't even take a step back, staring at the man with as much warning as she could without pulling her gun and pistol whipping the bastard.

"NOW!" Johanna sighed and dropped her cigarette on the ground, realizing there was no point in trying to reason with this junkie. The man made the mistake of glancing at her cigarette as it fell, a fatal mistake when facing someone like her. The moment his eyes left her, she dove forward and drove an armored elbow into the man's chest. As he stumbled back, she jumped forward and sent a vicious kick into the same place she hit the first time, sending the man to the floor. Then drawing her pistol, she placed a single boot on the man's neck and zeroed the sights on his head, her finger hovering above the trigger. Everything went silent. The man's eyes looked up at the woman, terrified and bulging as his air supply was slowly cut off by her boot while green eyes returned the stare, even and uncaring. Then, without warning, she collapsed her pistol and kicked the man's pistol in between two nearby crates with the leg that had been choking him before returning it to his neck.

"You are lucky I have somewhere to be, jackass." She told him, before taking her foot off of his neck and then walked away from him. She didn't have the time to deal with C-Sec and their investigators. The man scrambled to grab the gun but stopped when a grenade slapped on the crate the gun was in, prompting him to scramble away just in time to avoid the explosion. Johanna smiled to herself as she though Should have left well enough alone asshole before activating her tactical cloak.

She slipped past the two guards at the entrance without difficulty, as they were too busy holding off the people who weren't permitted. It angered her that so many people would attempt to get in. While some may have genuine reasons for being there, many of them clearly only wanting in on the publicity which came at the man's expense. Still, she couldn't complain too much, giving her enough of a distraction that none of the guards noticed the occasional glimmer as the tactical cloak readjusted to its surroundings as she calmly strode right by them. Once inside, she looked around at her surroundings.

It was in an Alliance dreadnaught, directly in the hangar. Of course, the ships had been cleared out and replaced with cheap metal chairs, set up in several rows. Almost all of them had Alliance Marines sitting in them, backs straight and heads held high. The first row on the left side was the only one that held any type of diversity among its participants. A Krogan, Turian, Quarian, and Asari sat together, not at one another's throats and without any type of tension between them, the Asari and the Quarian weeping while the Turian and Krogan offered silent mourning. Like damn true soldiers. Several humans did sit with them, but all but a few lacked the military uniform that marked them as a marine, too few in number to consider.

On a platform that stood in front of the two groups of chairs, sat another diversity of people, not only in species but in class as well. They were the councilors and ambassadors that were among the citadel, many showing their face only out of respect but a few had a personal reason for being there, mostly because they owed their lives to the man who died. Whether they actually cared for him or not was another matter altogether. Sure, general respect was throughout the entire room at this man as was to be expected, but she had the feeling only the first row truly felt a sense of loss at his death. Sighing with irritation, she slowly began to walk up the aisle.

Despite being invisible, she felt as though all the eyes were on her as she walked, remembering the first time she had to do this. She had a flower then, a bright red rose, plucked directly from earth. It was always her favorite, having heard countless stories about their beauty. This time, it was something different. It was a pair of dog tags, not the man's who had died, but sharing the first and last name nonetheless. It was old and rusted, still on actual metal despite the conversion to holotags. It had a certain rustic feel to it, one that almost made her homesick every time she looked at it. God, this walk was too slow. If only she could go faster without drawing attention. She may be invisible but she still could make enough noise to impress a Krogan baby.

When she reached the platform, her heart rate began to speed up and her throat closed. Why was this so hard? She had already shed any tears she had for this man, before dutifully wiping her eyes and pretending that it was common news. Johanna wished she could clear her throat but she knew the disembodied sound would draw attention. Now the hard part came. Slowly, she took her first step onto the platform where the councilors and the ambassadors stood. The platform squeaked slightly , only enough to draw the attention of the Turian ambassador, his alien hearing being the most superior of the group. She stood stock still, knowing that the more movement she made, the more likely the tactical cloak was to readjust and give her away. Thankfully, the turian shrugged to himself and returned back to the service as a scarred Admiral stepped forward to speak. She waited until he began his speech, ignoring his recited words to say at every soldier's funeral and used the distraction to pull herself up. This time, the turian ignored the squeaked, having thoroughly convinced himself that it was merely because of the number of people on the stage.

Each step took almost a full minute to take, the platform barely accommodating the few it already had on. She had barely reached the coffin as the Admiral finally gave way for the twenty-one gun salute. It was an ancient tradition, dating back into the 20th century almost. They still used the traditional guns, though there had been talk of switching to the first model of the Avenger rifle, which had been designed much like their predecessors in the Marine's hands. She remembered the first time those guns had been fired, how her heart raced and her mind went scared for a second. Those ancient guns were nothing like the guns now, clunky and loud, one shot enough to echo for miles. She remembered, like a scarred child, taking the hand nearest to her in comfort. Now, when they fired, she didn't even flinch, her only worry was if some idiot loaded his gun with an actual bullet that would ricochet of the interior of the ship.

She approached the coffin, a black and unexciting thing with only a monogram of N7 on the upper corner, where the left shoulder of the deceased should be. Another ancient tradition, though with slight modifications. She remembered how the first time she saw this, it wasn't N7 but a simple alliance mark, for a bland and ordinary soldier. Not like the coffin in front of her. One that got even the attention of the council, who no doubt hardly attended such events. She almost scoffed aloud at what would be said between those who truly grieved and those who were here purely for show. She anticipate yelling and screaming, and with a sliver of hope, maybe a few gunshots. However, circumstances would prevent her from watching such an event.

She noticed a picture, on a small stand near the edge of the platform. A much younger man was presented in the picture compared to the man in the coffin. This after all, was the teenage version of him, fresh off planet side and with a head full of delusions. His azure eyes stared determined into the camera, his mouth remaining neutral though anyone who knew him could tell he was fighting his constant smile. His head was freshly shaven, the style that remained throughout his career. His nose was crooked ever so slightly, not enough to notice by those who did not spend a long time studying his face and a small scar ran under his eye. His jaw was strong and blocky, the perfect fit for a man who had his aura of command and his abnormally large ears stuck out from beneath his military cap. A sad smile crossed her lips as her fingers edged near the picture.

She remembered the constant revered talks of the brave warriors in space and the idea of being the best of them all. Well, guess it wasn't a delusion. She touched the picture, lightly and with care, not only because she wanted to mask her presence. She remembered how on his first day of boot camp, his goofy grin got him yelled at constantly by the instructor, who failed to destroy it despite many tries. He remembered all the times he got in trouble because he hardly followed typical alliance protocol, such as addressing subordinates by their first names and asking personal questions rather than sticking to the jobs they were assigned. How the man ever came to command the most advanced stealth ship in the entire galaxy was beyond her reasoning. Johnathon Shepard, you are an asshole for dying.

She didn't delay much longer, knowing that soon, people would come onto the platform one at a time to pay their respect. Johnathon always wanted a funeral like he saw in the old movies, where people could pay their respects to his body before they spaced it towards the nearest sun. She never liked the idea of being spaced into the sun herself, the whole thing seeming as though it was ripped off from some cheesy sci-fi film. However, they had to do the funeral closed casket, lacking a body to display since the real one got spaced in the Terminus systems. The idea of using a VI had been tossed about however, many said it would be too disrespectful for those who knew him.

She lowered the dog tags in her hand onto the spot next to the picture, still hidden under her tactical cloak, she knew the moment she let go, it would become visible and the keen eyed people would finally notice her. Sighing, she paid her final respects and knew it was time to go. Say hi to them for me, asshole. However, before she let go, her eyes caught something that was right next to her intended spot for the current tags. She nodded, deciding upon something else, she went about her business.

She knew she had been spotted, judging by the harsh glare that she had felt the moment she had finished her business. She felt it until she left the dreadnaught and turned down the alleyway that the junkie had attempted to mug her at. The keepers had already repaired the damaged caused by her explosion and even replaced the crates that she had turned to dust within the time she had accomplished her mission. So, why she was currently sitting on top of those crates, with her tactical cloak deactivated and in full lighting without her gun drawn, was something she couldn't quite fathom herself. Still, like Johnathon, her curiosity often got the better of her, and she had to meet the person who had seen through her theft. After all, her ego demanded as such.

She didn't wait long before an angry looking Turian rounded the corner, followed by a Krogan in bright red battlearmor. They spotted her almost immediately, raising their weapons, both barrels lined up with vital spots on her. She didn't run, just put up her hands in defense as she sat a few feet above her head. "Who do you think you are?" The turian asked, his voice hoarse and filled with righteous anger. It almost made her laugh.

"That depends Garrus Vakarian. Who do you think I am?" She asked, lowering her hands and placing one on her knee as she stared down at them. The turian looked shocked at her knowledge of his name and she used this brief shock to level a gun on his head. "Never let your guard down. An experienced man like you should know that." She calmly told him, despite the Krogan's finger inching ever closer to the trigger of his gun though amusement shone in his red eyes. She collapsed her gun once more, and held up her hands in a small surrender, her fun over.

"I think you're a common thief. Desecrating a great man's funeral with your petty theft." He told her. She chuckled at that.

"Keen eyes, to notice something a slight as that. Must be a sniper and have experience with military protocol. Your skills are largely underappreciated in C-Sec. That or I'm getting sloppy." She shrugged as she twirled the holotags on her fingers to confirm the accusations of the turian. "You'd make a good merc, if you ever get that stick out of your ass."

"I like this one. Shame I have to shoot her." Wrex laughed with amusement as he lowered his weapon to a non-vital spot. Garrus didn't follow his suit, choosing to keep his weapon trained on the woman in front of him.

"I want the holotags back." The turian demanded.

"Sorry. Afraid I can't take you up on that. They're rightfully mine." She told him as she put the holotags around her neck. His eyes narrowed as only a turian's can and her shot her a look that put a hint of caution into her spine. She liked that feeling, having thought she was all but immune to it due to her line of business. She felt that a fight between her and this turian would be quite the show.

"A thief like you will only pawn them off onto the highest bidder and then it'll become the trophy to some scum on the universe." The turian accused once more, his finger pulling the trigger ever so slightly. She laughed once more at this, though this one was far less amused than her previous ones.

"As tempting as that'd be. I'm afraid I'll have to keep John's holotags. It'll be a nice reminder of what a pain in the ass he used to be." She said as she looked down at the holotags. Out of instinct, she raised her biotic barrier as a bullet careened towards her, barely blocking the projectile with as powerful of a biotic barrier as she muster. "Shame he's gone." She continued without even looking up, pretending the drain on her energy never happened.

"I will be a much bigger pain in the ass if you don't give them back now." Garrus threatened as menacingly as he could. It wasn't that his threat wasn't scary, as he said it with as much malice and anger as he could possibly muster, it was just that Johanna had faced much larger and dangerous people that had told her the same thing though in other words and in other condition, so she hardly paid him mind in order to check a message that she had received in her omni-tool. Sighing with defeat as she read the message, she realized that playtime was over. A customer was already demanding another pair of GARDIAN cannons despite having got some last week.

"Sorry, Garrus, but you could never be as much as a pain in the ass as my twin." With that, she activated her tactical cloak and leapt off the boxes. She heard the Krogan laughing with delight at the revelation of another Shepard.

"I like this family!" He declared as he sent a bullet in her direction but missed, bouncing off a nearby wall. She stopped when she finally out of range of the service pistol that the turian was using, thinking back to the former C-Sec operative. John sure did know how to pick his friends, both clearly ready to kill her over a lousy set of holotags that weren't even the original pair. Shame she couldn't meet them when her brother was still alive and kicking though it wouldn't have nearly been as much fun. With a slight laugh, she continued to leave, heading for the docks.