I've had an idea for a HP/ME crossover for quite some time now. But since I already have another story that's garnered some good interest, whether or not I continue this story will depend on the response I get. So if you like it, drop me a review and let me know. I'll be considering the usual story stats to see how the response is.

Combining two worlds will always produce some confusing areas, especially when one is magical and the other is very science driven. I'll try my best to integrate the two, but I don't think anyone could make that integration absolutely seamless.

This won't be the same as canon Mass Effect (duh) so expect changes in the story. When you feel the urge to type out "Actually, that's not how it happened", think about whether the change was intentional or a mistake.

And yeah, I know I have this weird obsession with bodies changing souls like clothes. So sue me. It interests me as a plot idea.

Without further ado, my latest brainchild.

All sentient beings think that death comes for them at some point in their life. That the arrival of death means the end of their mortal life. That the absence of the presence of death is the time you have to live, to love, to fight, and to learn. But they are all wrong.

Death stands besides you the moment you are born. It holds your hand while you try to walk. It stands by you while you live your life the way you see fit, always observing, always silent. And when your time is up, for the first time in your life, death reveals itself to you and tells you that you have never, ever stood alone, even in your darkest moments.

"SHEPARD!" yelled Joker even as he activated the escape pod in the cockpit of the Normandy, moments before another explosion propelled him far away from the pod. He sighed in relief as he saw the pod eject and begin its downwards trajectory to the nearby planet.

Now, how do I- was as far as he was able to get, before another chain of explosions were set off, making him cry in out in pain as dozens of metal shards pierced his suit, even as the force propelled him out of the Normandy and into space. He swore as he took quick, shallow breaths, determined not to lose consciousness because of the trauma.

It took him a few seconds to realize that his oxygen was running out, and fast. He moved his hands to the cable at the back of his armor, ignoring the screams of protest his body gave him as the metal dug even deeper into his body.

Shit! There are too many leaks to even try to plug. What next? What next? Can I use a biotic field to contain the oxygen? No, that won't work. Damn it! Damn it! Not like this…

Now he took deep breaths, determined to keep himself alive as long as he could. He watched as the Normandy fell apart - watched as the ship that had practically become his home tore itself apart as explosion after explosion was set off. He would only be able to breathe a few more times before he was deprived of oxygen entirely.

Gasp.

He watched as the unknown enemy ship began moving once again, having decided that its task was done. Within seconds, it was gone, entering FTL speed at an accelerated pace.

Gasp.

He felt himself turning slowly, pulled into the orbit of the nearby planet.

Beautiful he noted, a strange detachment coming over him even as cold began to creep over his body, signifying that his end was close. He shut his eyes, deciding that the magnificent view he had just seen was enough to serve as his last memory of the world.

Shepard.

His eyes snapped open violently as he heard a strange voice call to him, as from within his own mind.

His disbelief grew as he processed the sight that greeted him - A figure stood in front of him, shrouded completely in a black cloak, with a hood that hid its face from view. Raven-black wings protruded from the back of the figure, fully extended. A bone white hand grasped a scythe in its hand. The figure itself seemed to be look at him, though it was hard to tell without seeing its face.

Great, a hallucination. And my mind chose the grim reaper. How...ironic whispered the sardonic part of his mind.

Gasp.

You have breathed your last, brave soldier.

Who are you? he asked, even as his mind began to shut down, his vision blurring even as his body began to convulse as his lungs desperately sought air. Soon, it was thrashing around desperately, uncontrollably, as his body fought to stay alive. He felt his eyes close, and knew he would not have the strength to open them again.

I am the point where all mortal paths end.

And then he knew no more.

It would be a long time before the first Systems Alliance cruiser would arrive at the scene, where pieces of the Normandy still hung in space like a macabre mechanical skeleton. The fires had long since subsided, and most of the ship had now crashed into the nearby planet.

By then, the survivors of the pod had grouped together, and Liara T'Soni and Ashley Williams did all in their power to safeguard every single crew member of the Normandy that they could find. They would activate an emergency beacon near where most of the survivors were gathered, and the alliance would find them and take them to safety.

None of the search parties could find Shepard's remains anywhere near the crash sites of the crew. Without knowing the trajectory the body had taken, the search teams did not meet with any success. Unable to comb through an entire planet, the search was soon called off.

But the forces shrouded in shadows had already begun to move, as soon as an 'encrypted' alliance message was sent out to the Council and Earth, informing them of Commander Shepard's demise. These forces were highly capable, and had virtually unlimited resources. The body would not remain unfound for long.

From the darkness he was first aware of the sound of a starship's engine. That deep, reverberating, comforting sound that let its inhabitants know that all was well. He was at peace, as if he were lying in his quarters aboard the Normandy, listening to the ship as its soared through space. He had cherished those rare moments when he had no missions to carry out, and could let his mind wander as he pleased.

Shepard.

The voice reverberated through his mind once more, making his mind snap away from nostalgia, and to his present. Where was he? Hadn't he died? And then he remembered. Vision. He had to open his eyes.

Colors swam into focus as he did so, and he realized he was lying on the ground of what appeared to be one of Alliance docks.

What am I doing here? he wondered, looking around the docks. It was completely empty, save for him, and only one spaceship was docked there, engines humming to indicate that it was prepped and ready for flight. So much of his life had been spent at hangar bays that looked just like this one, as they had been one of the rare times he could interact with a civilian population. Sometimes in very...interesting ways.

There was a rustle of movement behind him, and he whirled around, hand going to where his pistol would be holstered out of sheer reflex. He froze as he saw the same figure he had glimpsed before succumbbing to lack of oxygen.

Now it stood before him silently, wings resting instead of being fully spread. His eye kept going back to the scythe, the handle of which was entirely white, as was the blade that curved from the tip. The weapon was a stark contrast to the figure itself, which was entirely black, even the wings.

"Who are you?" he asked sharply, fighting the apprehension he was feeling. His heart was already telling him that there was only one possible explanation for this.

Death.

That single word sent him into shock again, even as he remembered the pain that had fired every nerve in his being as his body lost its life. He looked down at himself for the first time, and was more than surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his damaged hardsuit, but an Alliance fatigues uniforms.

"So...I'm dead?" he asked, dreading the inevitable reply that he knew was coming. But he had to know for sure. He had to.

Yes.

He had failed. He had sworn to himself to protect his crew. But so many had died when the Normandy had been attacked. He had sworn to himself that he would not let the reapers succeed. But now, without him pushing the council and the public, he knew all too well that all the races in the galaxy would be content to sit back and let the threat disappear from their minds.

Until the fucking reapers actually attack, of course said the snide voice in his mind. On this occasion, he agreed wholeheartedly with it.

"Where am I now?" he asked uncertainly, wondering why heaven looked like an alliance space dock. If it was heaven. There was still the small part of his mind that insisted this whole thing was a hallucination. It was all so surreal, he wasn't sure he had even begun to process what had happened to him.

Death cannot step to the beyond. You are at the crossroads.

"The crossroads? You're talking about this dock?" he asked, bewildered.

You see what is beloved to your heart.

"So...it's a dock just because I'm here?" he asked again.

The figure merely nodded. Apparently Death wasn't the talkative type. As someone who had never believed in a religion or an afterlife, Shepard felt utterly helpless, as if this space was something outside of what he had believed all his life.

"What happens now?" He asked the question even though he already had a suspicion of what the answer would be.

Death pointed his-her-its? scythe at the spaceship, where the hatch already lay open.

He had never felt more conflicted than he had when he placed his first step towards the spacecraft. How could he walk away from the certain doom that the civilized species of his galaxy faced? The death toll would cross the trillions.

No, I can't do this he swore and turned back to Death.

"I can't do this. I can't just walk away from what's are going to be lost by the millions!"

Death is absolute.

"There has to be something I can do to convince you! Please!"

Death said nothing, choosing to loss at him silently.

"You bastard!" he gritted, furious that Death seemed to be unfazed by the potential destruction of entire civilizations.

Again Death said nothing.

He clenched his fist. Instinct told him that any move he made to attack Death would end badly for him. His neck was drawn and his veins began to stand out as he tried to rein in his temper.

"Of course," he sneered bitterly, "You'll probably throw a party when that many souls come through. You're Death right? You must be loving this."

For a second, an incredible pressure weighed on him, forcing him to his knees. The figure had not even shifted, but he could tell that what he had just said had irritated it intensely.

"W-What was that?" he gasped, once the crushing feeling had faded.

The reward that ignorance reaps.

"Look," he said, hating himself for the beginning tone that crept into his voice, "I can't just ignore the fact that entire races are going to be annihilated. I'll give up anything for a chance at saving them. Please."

You cannot negotiate with death.

He sighed, the fight going out of him as he considered the insurmountable wall he was facing. He had overcome many things. His own demise could not be one of them. He turned away dejectedly.

What are you willing to sacrifice?

He turned in a blur, processing the question he had just been asked.

"Anything," he croaked out, thinking of all the loved ones that he had left behind.

We shall see the extent of your resolve.

Death tapped the ground once with its scythe.

The world around him began to crumble into nothing, and he fell into a darkness that seemed like it would never end.

"Miranda, we have a situation," the man said crisply after taking a drag on his cigarette. Miranda stood facing the window, and was surprised when she heard the tone of her boss' voice. It contained an edge that belied his calm appearance.

"Is it something to do with Shepard?" she guessed astutely, remembering how the Illusive Man had begun taking an interest in Shepard after the Saren incident. He had been highly impressed with how Shepard saved the Citadel at the expense of the Council. He had also been highly disappointed when the new human-led council had proved as ineffectual in acting on the Reaper threat as the old one.

"Yes, the Council sent him on a mission to investigate some suspicious activity, claiming it could be the geth."

"Geth," she voiced distastefully, "Even if the activity did turn out to be geth, we know they're nothing but pawns. The idiots on the Council would sit back and see us all destroyed."

"There has been another complication," cut in the Illusive Man, his eyes glowing eerily as he continued to read off the many screens surrounding him.

"Shortly after the Normandy reached the area they were to investigate, an unknown spaceship opened fire on it."

Her eyes widened slightly, "But that's impossible. Our sources tell us the Normandy had a stealth system that was unparalleled. Not even geth technology could have detected them."

"Yes. No technology we know of could have done this," asserted the Illusive Man cryptically.

"They've begun moving again, haven't they?" asked Miranda, though it was more like she was asking herself.

"It gets worse," the Illusive Man called up an audio file that bore the marks of an Alliance transmission

"-with no way of telling where the Commander's body could have fallen, and given Flight Lieutenant Moreau's testimony, we have no choice but to presume Commander Shepard dead-"

Here he paused the audio log and waited silently for her to process what she had just heard.

"He's dead," she she repeated, shocked by the turn of events, "Shepard was supposed to be the rallying point for humanity and the entire galaxy as well. Without him-"

"There is no scenario without him," said her boss sharply, and she recognized that he had already decided on a course of action.

"You have a mission for me?"

"Cerberus has secured the services of Dr. T'Soni, and I'm confident she'll find the body where the Alliance failed. Your instructions are in this file."

He snapped his fingers, and an aide stepped out of the shadows to hand her a file. She read the name of the file out loud.

"Project Lazarus."

Shepard thought he had seen it all when the crossroads of death had looked like an alliance docking bay. But today, it seemed, was all about proving him wrong. After what had seemed like ages, he had stopped falling through nothingness by colliding, hard, with what looked to be a green meadow. He had not been hurt by the fall, surprisingly, though he assumed it was because Death controlled this space.

Groaning, he picked himself up, unhurt but also disoriented from falling for so long. His eyes widened when he saw that he was near what looked like a stone castle, with a meadow and a large lake nearby. He was standing near the lake now, eyes scanning his surroundings keenly. He knew this place meant something important, as Death had talked about him being tested.

The place was completely deserted, or so he thought, until he saw what appeared to be a person, sitting near the shore of the lake at a considerable distance. He began to walk towards the person cautiously, unsure of what to expect. When he was closer, he was able to make out that it was a dark-haired man, who looked to be in his twenties.

He tensed again as the young man glanced in his direction, revealing startlingly green eyes as he did so. The young man did nothing but turn back to the lake, however, as if dismissing his presence. Soon, he had neared the young man, slowly lowering his guard as he realized that the young man really had no interest in him. He stood next to the man, wondering what was to happen.

"Did that old bastard send you here?" the young man asked suddenly, making him blink with surprise. Did he just call Death an old bastard?

His accent was distinctly British, that much he could tell even though he had been a spacer. A lot of Earth-borns joined the Alliance, and a few of the soldiers he had served with had spoken with a similar accent.

"Do you mean Death?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, or as I like to call him, the old bastard," replied the green eyed man noncommittally, as if he were talking about the weather, "Well, as long as you're here, you might as well sit down. Name's Harry."

"Uh. Hello Harry. I'm John," he muttered before sitting on the grass This day is getting weirder by the minute.

"So, what are you doing hanging about in the crossroad? Last I heard, this place wasn't a tourist attraction."

Says the man sitting on a meadow in front of a scenic lake? he snorted internally, the scenery around him putting him at ease slowly.

"I...I can't pass on. Not when I was fighting against a threat that could take millions of lives," he said slowly as he looked at the lake. It was hard to explain the feeling of commitment he had. Sometimes, even he didn't quite understand it.

"Great. Another one with a hero complex," he heard Harry mutter in a low voice. He had a feeling Harry had been speaking to himself, more than anyone. He fought to suppress the surge of irritation he felt.

"So for what reason are you in the crossroads?" he asked, curious to know the story behind this Harry.

"Just popped in for some peace and quiet. Not sure how long it's been," Harry replied in a monotone, as if he didn't really care.

"You…'popped' into the crossroads of life and death for a vacation?" he asked disbelievingly, not sure if he was being lied to or not.

"Sure. You find out how disgusting humanity really is when you've been around them long enough," Harry said offhandedly, "All the backstabbing, envy, and general hostility. Oh, they keep those emotions hidden when they need your help of course. 'Defeat this Dark Lord' or 'Put down that dangerous beast.' It gets tiring after a while."

"Wait, you walked away from people who needed your help?" now the anger was back. It was irrational, moralistic anger, he knew. He even knew that he agreed with many of the sentiments expressed. But he had never let those sentiments sway him from what needed to be done.

"Yes," was the simple and uncaring reply he got.

Shepard scoffed slightly as he turned away from Harry, not trusting himself to keep calm if he made any more small talk.

"You seem upset," came Harry's voice, and it carried with it a hint of amusement.

"Oh no, why on Earth would I be upset?" he snapped back sarcastically, "Here I am, begging Death for a chance to go back and save billions of people, and I find out you can go back and won't. No, I'm fucking delighted about this mess."

A powerful force slammed into his side, propelling him so hard that his body was battered and thrown along the ground for nearly fifty feet, tearing up chunks of grass and earth along the way.

What. The. Fuck! he screamed internally as he threw himself behind the cover of a rock as soon as he stopped. Just as before, when he had fallen into this location, his body was completely undamaged, but he was utterly winded, his body racking as he drew long, painful breaths.

"Come out and play, you little worm," thundered a voice he recognized as Harry's and he realized Harry had been the one to attack him. But what could possess so much power? Even a powerful biotic would be unable to launch such a vicious attack with no warning.

"Fuck. Alright. Stick to cover. Trees are no good, he can certainly blow them apart. I can stick to rocks. There are certainly enough of them. But what I can I attack with?"

He held out his hand, praying that he still had his biotics. He was relieved when the customary blue sheen made itself known, the power thrumming comfortably through his entire body. Good. He wasn't completely helpless. A small part of him wondered how amps could function in this weird region, but he crushed that side ruthlessly now was not the time.

"Alright then, if you won't come out, I'll just make you!"

Shepard's eyes widened in disbelief as the lazy white clouds in the sky suddenly turned a thunderous grey. He threw himself away from where he was, allowing the roll to carry him as far as possible. It was not a moment too soon.

A powerful bolt of lightning struck the boulder he had been hiding behind, utterly shattering it. The wave of force that accompanied it nearly made him lose his balance.

What IS he? yelled his inner voice. He had come across far greater power, of course, but always through machines and contraptions. And yet here was a man who could seemingly throw that power around almost casually.

You're the idiot for thinking an ordinary guy would be wandering around a place like this the snide voice in his mind hastened to add.

He flexed his right hand, his neurons sending a particular pattern of activity almost immediately, which his amps picked up on. A glimmering, transparent layer of energy surrounded him.

That should take a hit or two he decided before scrambling out of his current hiding spot.

Another powerful blast rocked the area behind him, and he found his previous shelter utterly destroyed.

He's toying with me. The bastard's missing on purpose! he realized, and rage filled his mind. Nobody toyed with him, not even Sovereign.

He surged forward swiftly, taking full advantage of the terrain. The lightning had stopped now, and Harry seemed content to watch him draw closer and closer. He snarled and thrust his hands out. A condensed mass of blue energy streaked out of his hand, moving towards the Britisher with deadly force. The ground itself was torn apart by the force.

They tell me I have one mean biotic throw he thought satisfiedly as Harry was struck forcefully by the attack, sending dust and debris flying forcefully from the point where Harry stood.

"Are you trying to make me sneeze?" came an amused voice, though its owner was still shrouded by the haze of dust that his attack had stirred up.

He cursed and threw out his hand once more, this time aiming for a Singularity. A powerful wave of force sprang into being near Harry, drawing in everything in a four foot radius to itself. The dark haired man seemed to do little to resist the pull of the force, and was now floating above the core, looking vaguely amused by the whole experience.

"This is fun! You should come around more often John. Very intriguing powers you have. An attack that mimics the Earth's core?"

"Oh you'll have even more fun with this!" he snarled in response before snapping his fingers Warp!

Tiny mass effect fields responded to his amps, tearing into the green eyed man viciously. This was a lethal combo that even krogan warlords could not walk away from. And those bastards could walk away from almost anything. Wrex was case and point.

His victorious grin was ruined when Harry spoke again, his voice showing no strain that he was under attack.

"Interesting. This attack is trying to convince my structure to destabilize. It's almost like it's encouraging decomposition. Color me impressed, John."

Harry clapped his hands together and a thunderous boom was heard. He was shocked to find both the Singularity and the Warp dispelled as Harry landed on his feet once more. In less than a second, Harry had covered the distance between them, green eyes glowing with power as they bored into his head.

He swore and launched the most vicious uppercut he could master, only for Harry to grab his hand and squeeze. The biotic barrier he had activated was smothered out like a candle flame, and he bit back a scream of pain as he felt his fist get crushed viciously.

"Playtime's over now, John," Harry spoke serenely, as if he were watching the sun set, and not crushing a man's fist.

"You started it, I'll damn well finish it," he spat out before headbutting Harry. The blow connected in a most satisfying way, and he found his hand being dropped. Too late, he realized that bodies couldn't actually be damaged here, and what he'd felt was only the sensation of his hand being crushed. His actual hand was as undamaged as ever.

He felt himself being slammed against the ground as an oppressive pressure filled the air. Every nerve in his body screamed of imminent danger as the very air seemed to grow heavy. Harry's eyes flashed angrily as he gazed coldly down at him.

"Enough."

That single word held more authority than all his previous words put together. But he would never give up on a fight. He exhaled painfully, forcing his body into submission and into his control. He raised himself shakily onto one knee, readying himself to attack again.

"Tch tch. Stubbornness will get you killed."

The pressure intensified, forcing him back on the ground again. He hit the ground face-down this time, and swore internally.

No. Not yet.

He moved his arm painfully and activated his biotics once again, sending a strong wave of energy at the ground itself. The force of the blast threw him a few feet off the ground, making Harry jerk back in surprise. His hand glowed blue again as he readied his next attack, determined to land a few significant blows on the dark haired man.

A hand covered in a green aura grabbed his face while he was still in mid-air, disrupting his concentration and forcing him to abandon his attack. He sighed defeatedly and allowed his body to relax, resigning himself to the fact that in death he would always find defeat.

"Why were you so persistent? You must have known you didn't stand a chance," asked Harry curiously, still holding him up in the air.

"Death said this was a test," he slurred, his voice distorted by the hand that held his face. The hand dropped him, and he fell to the ground. He sat up tiredly, looking at the calm waters of the lake before continuing.

"I...I was hoping that if I beat you, Death would help me go back and finish my mission."

"Your mission means so much to you? Faceless and nameless people that you might never meet in your lifetime?"

"They're still lives," he snarled, "And I have friends, family. I never want to see them die. Not while I still draw breath."

"Yes...you drawing breath is a bit of a metaphor at the moment, you know," Harry replied with the same detached amusement, though a new emotion now shone in his eyes. The dark haired man looked at the lake for a few seconds, before sighing and speaking into seemingly empty air.

"You can come out now you meddling bastard. I know this is what you wanted."

You have decided, then?

The very air next to Harry rippled, and Death materialized as if it had been standing there all along. There was something almost...human about the way the entity spoke to Harry. Was it happiness he detected in its voice? No. It couldn't be.

"Of course I've decided. It's like I'm looking into a naive, obnoxious, stubborn younger version of myself," snorted Harry in a resigned tone.

He felt the need to re-introduce himself into the conversation.

"Wait, you'll help? You'll allow me to go back?" he asked hopefully.

No.

His hopes plummeted seconds after they had been raised, leaving him dumbstruck. What help were they talking about then? Harry seemed to take pity on him, for he looked at Death and said, "Lay out your master plan already. How am I going to help?"

Death merely raised its scythe and tapped the ground again.

Oh f- was all he had time to think before their surroundings crumbled away once more, sending him spiraling into darkness once more.

"Let me see if I understand this," he began incredulously, looking at Death, who seemed unfazed as ever. They were back to the docks now, and he could not believe what he had just heard. He had found himself in an afterlife he never believed in, he had watched a man call lightning from the skies, and he still could not process what he had just heard.

"You want to send Harry back."

Death nodded.

"But not as himself. You want to send him back to my body."

"And why can't you just send me back?" he asked, disbelief etched into every fibre of his face. Harry seemed indifferent to the entire conversation, and was busy looking around the docks.

"Humanity's come far if this is what they have instead of a railway station," he commented idly.

"Yeah, they ha- That's not the point!"

Harry sighed before rolling his eyes. He gestured to their surroundings.

"Who do you think controls our surroundings, John?"

He was stumped by the sudden turn in the conversation, but Harry did not seem to be one for idle chit chat, so he took the question seriously.

"I'm guessing Death is?"

"Right," nodded Harry, speaking at a sedate pace, "You need to realize this. The ground you're standing on. The colors you're seeing. The air you're breathing. Every single one of your senses function according to his will."

"Okay, where's this headed?" he asked, still seeing no connection.

"Do you truly believe that the way you sense time is in your control as well?" Harry asked quietly.

His eyes widened as he tried to grasp the enormity of what he had just been told, "But I can't have been here for more than a few hours! That's impossible!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and today has been all about what?"

He nodded, conceding the point. It made sense that Death held absolute power over the crossroads. Anything made sense at this point. Did someone want to tell him that ants were the overlords? He would believe them now, he really would.

"So...how long have I been here exactly?"

"Hard to say. There's no constancy here. Sometimes, a thousand years in the living world can be one second here."

His heart constricted at the thought. The reapers could already have killed all his friends, along with every single advanced civilization in the galaxy? Heck, the next order of races could already have established themselves!

"And sometimes, what feels like eternity in here could be less than a second in the living world."

Oh God that I don't believe in, please please let it be option 2.

"Well, how long has it been?" Harry asked Death curiously.

By your reckoning, almost two years Master.

Of course it's secret option number 3. Life shits on me in death as it did in life he groaned internally. Still, it was better than nothing. His cycle could still be saved.

"When a soul has been in the crossroads for a certain period of time, it can't go back to the living world. The repercussion are...unpleasant," explained Harry.

"Then what about you?" he asked challengingly, "You've obviously been here a lot longer than me."

"I'm...different," was the quiet reply. Emerald eyes sparked as they warned him off the subject. He let it drop, though he was extremely curious.

"So that's your offer? You send him in my place to complete my mission?" he asked Death.

Yes. Your body, his soul. A fair trade.

"Funnily enough, I don't see what's fair about it," he snorted half-heartedly. He already knew what his answer was going to be, but that didn't mean he had to take it lying down.

"How many people do you think try tonegotiate with Death?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Almost everyone, I guess" he replied, wincing.

"You're being offered a compromise, of sorts. I would take it, boyo," remarked Harry cheerfully.

He looked at Harry with eyes as sharp as the edge of a knife, "Swear to me that you will complete my task."

Harry met his eyes with calm green ones, "I promise to give it my all. I know nothing about your situation, how can I offer greater certainty than that?"

It would have to do. His eyes flicked over the waiting spaceship yet again, feeling heavy and yet oddly light at the same time. He had carried his task for what felt like decades, and to be rid of it was just...odd. Harry was powerful, of that there was no doubt. He would just have to take a leap of faith. And he had taken so many of those in his life.

"You lived a full and honorable life, John. Go in peace," smiled Harry. It was the first time he had seen the odd Britisher smile.

He nodded firmly, realizing there was no use in delaying the inevitable. As he crossed the threshold of the spaceship, a blinding white light rushed to meet him. In that moment, he felt utter peace.

John Shepard left the crossroads with a smile on his face.

Harry watched as the spaceship disappeared, and the scenery reverted back to the tranquil lake. He had been at the crossroads for so long. He wondered just how much the world had changed. For the first time in centuries, he felt the speed of his heart raise, just a little.

"So?" he asked the entity next to him, "What was his problem? Maniac seeking power? Country in danger?"

Bigger.

"Half the Earth in danger?"

Bigger.

"All of Earth?" he asked hopefully. How could it possibly get any bigger?

Entire galaxies, my Master.

"Well, shit."

Aaaand that's it. For a prologue, not a bad length at all. Naturally you'll have questions. Ask away, but realize that I'm hardly going to dump all the information on you in the prologue. I'll be covering explanations throughout the story whatever I left vague initially.

If you like it, let me know you do. A lukewarm response will mean I'll let this story sit while I complete the other one. A great response means I'll write both parallel-y. Yes, that's a word...now .

ShoredKafka.