A/N: Lack time to proof read, any beta readers interested?
Cerberus thing, a last minute addition. Was going to create all new group, but existing resources should suffice.
My groupies are all assembled in a circle around the table as the doc completes his checkup. I'm healthy, no surprise there, my eye is starting to recover –still red, though- and the scar is healed completely, but my brain waves are off the chart and I've got tiny tumors in my frontal lobe that seem to be radioactive. Removal without further information could possibly kill me. Great.
One of the kids, I call him Two, hands me my shirt back and I cover myself before jumping to my feet.
"What do you guys think I should do now?" They figured out the problem, maybe they have a solution for it.
One is a tall black guy with short hairs and about as much muscle as I do, Two seems like your average book worm; short, skinny and with large dark spots under his eyes, Three is short, female and Asian, very discreet and, well, there's nothing else to the girl, really, Four has brown hairs, I think, maybe it's called something else, I don't know, she's tall though, a bit taller than I am, but I'm no giant and neither is she, Five looks a lot like Four, only not as tall and with a rounder silhouette, although she's not chubby. Could be, were she not running Spec Ops drills with us all the time.
Six, a blonde girl about thirty years old, speaks for the others most of the time, now isn't an exception, "We already showed you the only way to cure yourself, you must only accept it."
Right, spore thing and all that. Yay.
I'm not so hot about that idea, not only because I like being me and knowing that I am, but also because I hate people.
Well, I like people, but only in short burst. They're fun for short periods of time; about a minute, a minute and a half. Then, I just need to get the fuck out of there, too much talking, too much self-centered monologues trying to disguise as conversations, too much stupid bullshit. I have a very low tolerance level to bullshit.
Truth of the matter is, everyone knows they're being self-centered pricks, that they only do things that either serve their purpose or make them feel warm and fuzzy inside, but they sugar coat it with bullshit and I always found manure hard to swallow.
Everyone always try to be someone else and practically cove themselves in bullshit; expensive clothes, jewels, facial surgeries, tattoos, makeup, haircut. All bullshit, and we all know it, but everyone smiles and nod at it like all these lies are perfectly honest.
Makes me want to shoot everyone in sight.
Then again, so do Elcor weather forecast, Hanar… Uh… Just Hanars at large, and people who talk at the theater, so maybe I'm just borderline psychotic.
Let's see if the Colonel can help me. With Chaos, psychosis can wait.
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From: Col. E. Lloyd
To: MAJ. A. Sinclair
Object: Medical issue
I received the files you sent me and your physical evaluation. Good work on figuring this shit out, son, you made this academy proud today, no matter what happens next.
Let's get straight to what happens next: Thorian spores were used to ward off Chaos until three years ago, when the first colonists to be implanted with them lost all sign of individuality and began to lose cognitive abilities when far apart from other subjects. Somewhat like the Geth, really, so unless you're tempted by the whole Borg collective thing, I would advise against that.
Then again, the whole 'We are Legion' bullshit probably does not appeal to you either, so I pulled a few strings and found out the Salarians could possibly give you a hand, so I'm officially promoting you to Commander and will be sure whatever shit the Council asks you to do is considered as your N7 field initiation. You never do things by the rules, do you? I guess that's what got you so much attention lately…
Don't expect them to play nice, they're still pissed about Shepard curing the Genophage, but they also have plans for you, use it as leverage.
Your little fan club, which you must already know to be some of the original colonists I mentioned above, will be coming along, as they seem to like you, somehow, and they're learning way too fast for me to hold them back here. Consider them your first unit. I know you barely know them and they are a creepy bunch, but they'll have your back, I can promise you that.
Honored to have had you in my school, kiddo, even though it didn't go as planned.
Don't die.
Lloyd.
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Citadel
June 11th
The two C-sec officers give me wary looks as a third one on the other side of the window checks my credentials.
JTF 139 operators never leave their armors or weapons, but I'm going around in jeans, leather jacket and with only an M-77 Paladin sidearm in my shoulder holster. Not quite the same thing, really.
They didn't revoke my ACR Special Forces credentials, no explanations given, but I don't mind, as it gives me almost as much leeway as a Spectre. Namely, the right to carry a weapon anywhere I want and to book high-priority appointments with VIPs, although my low rank doesn't really place me high on their priority.
Right now, I want to talk to the Salarian Councillor; not the kind of shit I expected to be granted on the next day, but someone somewhere likes me and they cut right through the red tape.
The checkup doesn't turn up anything strange. The others –I still don't know their individual names, and they deflected the question every time, so I just gave them numbers- are also scanned at other checkpoints.
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Miranda Lawson yawned and leaned backward until her back popped twice. She then craned her neck and earned a long and satisfying series of cracks and pops.
It felt good to be away from that bloody bunker, even if it was replaced by a damned metal cockroach…"You'll bust your joints." Oriana scolded from the opposite seat, earning an amused smile from her genetic twin.
"Maybe," the Cerberus Operative agreed, "But it's totally worth it."
They were in Cerberus uniforms, in an Alliance shuttle heading for the Citadel. Weirder things had happened, though not often.
Shepard's mother had contacted them, them and every single Cerberus cell that remained, with an offer they couldn't refuse.
Back in the days, Cerberus was an Alliance agency meant to do the unspeakable things humanity's survival required; kidnapping, murders, live subject experiments, torture, the works. This kept going until the Alliance got an embassy on the citadel, after which they disavowed their guard dog and branded them terrorists. Cerberus should have disbanded at that point, but many top level operative still felt humanity needed protection and took it upon themselves to provide it.
Thus, the new Cerberus was born, led by the Illusive Man for years and brought to an immense level of power and ressources, rivaling even the Salarian STG and Council Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.
After the Reapers were disabled and Shepard disappeared, the Illusive Man sent one final order to his troops before shooting himself in the head with the biggest pistol available. That order was simple, clear and very much definitive: "Hide, build up our forces and wait until we are needed again, don't repeat my mistakes."
Cerberus was to pull back, cease all active operations and focus on recruiting and rebuilding. The commanders that disobeyed were sold out by their colleagues and wiped out by the Joint Task Force 139 and very few of the new recruits were made aware of just who they were working for, as very few people knew anything about Cerberus beyond name and propaganda.
The remaining cells were collectively renamed to just that, The Cells and the focus on military development slowly shifted to medical, technological and economical aspects as well as surveillance and monitoring.
And the Lawson sisters were the ones making sure this new dormant beast was healthy and docile for whoever the Alliance decided to put in charge of its new guard dog.
Shepard had summoned them to the Citadel for just that purpose, saying that after eight years of searching, she had finally found a suitable candidate, a man that would get the approval of both the Council and the Security Committee. The only person Miranda could think of that both assosiations of bureaucrats would agree on was Evelyn Shepard, so she had high hopes for this meeting.
But she currently had a massive headache over supply lines in the terminus systems that even the excitement couldn't bury.
Batarians were angry over the destruction of their homeworld and fleet and they were taking it out on any foreign vessels they could find. The Vorcha were running rampant, at least numbering in the millions on any planet close to a mass relay, ten times more on planets that didn't take active measures to control their birth rate, and with the Krogan flourishing as well, this often led to brutal conflicts that kept traders away and operators in hiding, severely restricting her options.
Then, their sleeper agents all over the galaxy lacked funds, intel and instructions, enough so that a significant number of them ended up turning themselves over to C-Sec, the Shadow Broker or whoever had some authority where they were hiding.
Some of them were executed on the spot, some thrown in a dark cell never to be heard of again and a few committed suicide when they realized forgiveness would not come. These men and women had been standing on the wrong side of their ideals and were now treated as animals because of it.
Miranda held no love for Cerberus or anyone willing to work for them, but many believed they were actually helping by serving Cerberus, kept in the dark by their superiors and blinded by charismatic speeches from the Illusive Man. She used to be one of them, same as Jacob, Kelly, Hawthorne and Gardner. Good people worked for Cerberus, good people that only ever did good deeds, but would still be treated as the lowest scum if they ever tried to atone.
They needed someone who could talk to them the way the Illusive Man did, make the hard choices and think outside the box. Unfortunately, neither of the Lawson sisters quite fit the bill. They were expert managers, could coordinates large scale deployments of resources with pinpoint accuracy and flawless discipline, but they just couldn't decide on where to best deploy these resources or how to get everyone to agree with their decision.
This would be that candidate's job.