A/N: Welcome to my first story on here. Ever. Why am I doing this? Oh, right. I'm a nerd and found a way to be nerdier. It's Mass Effect... with a person from another universe. So original! Not a SI, though. I didn't put me into the story. The main character has some traits of mine, but he is not me. Anyway, some feedback would be nice... if anyone actually reads this. If you do, it would be much appreciated, and I thank you for reading. Tell me what ya think!

The first two chapters are a bit boring. Those are to just to get things rolling. Stay until chapter 8, that's when things get really interesting. You won't regret staying.

Now, on to the show!


I slammed my fist on the desk and pretty much screamed with my mouth closed. My buddy Dylon in the Skype chat started laughing his ass off some more at my misfortune. I glared at my computer screen as I respawned on the game. Said game being Battlefield 1.

"This is fucking bullshit," I muttered and began playing again.

"The hell do you mean?" Dylon asked. "You keep dying!"

"It's because of that little nerd in the back of the map with a sniper won't take his dick out of the sand and do anything! Like, what are you doing?! You are literally doing nothing for your team!"

"He's keeping you away from the flags."

I gave the screen a blank look as I stopped moving my character. I left the lobby and closed down the game. "I'm going to take a break for a bit. Maybe go for a walk. Talk in a bit?"

"Yeah, sure thing. But a walk isn't gonna help you stop being trash at this game." He started laughing again.

"I'm going now."

"See ya."

"Yeah, bye."

I closed Skype and powered off my computer. I stood up from my desk and looked down at it. I had a fairly nice set up. It was an L-shaped desk. I had two monitors; one for my PC and one for my PS3 and PS4. My computer sat in the floor, while my two game systems sat side-by-side on the desk. Next to those was an assortment of games. Some of the most notable were The Witcher 3, the Mass Effect Trilogy, a few older Call of Dutygames, and The Last of Us.

I left my bedroom. The main area of my apartment was typical. White walls with gray carpet. So original. I placed some posters around and pictures such as a Deadpool poster and a photo taken at my high school graduation of some friends and I. Actually furniture was sparse. Only a small couch and chair along with a coffee table. I spent most time in my room anyway unless I had someone over, which was rarely.

My jacket was on a hook on the back of the door. I threw that on while making my way over to my wallet and keys on the coffee table.

Phone? Already had that on me. Pocket knife? In my other pocket already. Wallet, check. Keys, check. I'm good to go.

I took a deep breath in of cold air as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Thirty degrees out? My type of weather. I could never stand the heat, but the cold? It was like it was my goddamn element. I could walk around without a jacket on, but I liked having a hood up. Perhaps it was because I was born in December that I liked the cold so much. Or perhaps not.

I began my walk as I usually did, picking a random direction and just walking and turning when I felt like it. I was out maybe an hour before I decided it was time to head home. It was dark out then. Maybe close to eight p.m. I was walking down a street when I stopped and looked down an alley to my left.

The alley led right behind my apartment building. The back door was always unlocked for people to take their trash out. It would cut my walk back by a minute maybe. It was simply a matter of whether how lazy I felt.

With my mind made up, I turned and went down the alley. As typical, it was barely lit with orange lighting. I kept scanning the alleyway as I had my head slightly lowered. My hand even found its way into my pocket to brush up against my pocket knife.

I didn't like the odd feeling I was getting. It felt like I was being watched, stalked. I wrapped my hand around my pocket knife just in case. You never knew with people anymore. Then again, I never trusted people I didn't know.

I was nearly to my apartment building when I spotted an individual step out from behind the dumpster that was back there. My mind barely registered the glint of silver in his hand as he pulled it from under his trench coat. I was just about to react when a loud bang echoed down the alley, and I was knocked to the ground next to the dumpster. The air was knocked out of me followed by intense pain in my upper right chest area. I managed to move enough to sit up against the wall next to the dumpster. My hand went up to my chest and came back covered in blood. It was hurting to breath.

That prick shot me…

I looked up to see him standing over me. I couldn't make out much, just that he was wearing a trench coat and had long, unkempt hair. The alley light behind him was obscuring most of his features. But I did notice that he put the pistol he had in a holster on his left side.

"You seem to have taken quite the fall there, dearie," he said, followed by a mad sounding giggle. He sounded… familiar. I couldn't place where I had heard the voice before, but I knew I had heard it somewhere.

"Fuck… off," I said as loud as I could. It felt colder out now…

"Ooh! A bit of flare. I like it." He kneeled down next to me. "So, dearie, anything else you wish to say? Now would be the time." He giggled again.

His focus was on me, so he didn't notice as I slowly crept my hand to his holster. I wanted to smirk so badly as I grabbed the silver pistol and slid it out of its holding. He still didn't notice as I angled the gun so I would fire into his side.

"Yeah… I got one thing I want to say," I said.

"And that is?"

"I got your gun."

He tilted his head to the side slightly right before I pulled the trigger. The bastard was knocked backwards onto the ground and started pushing away until he was pressed against a wall on the other side of the alley. I let my hand fall as he started muttering to himself.

I ignored him as I glanced at the pistol. It was a silver plated Colt M1911. The grip was brown and leathery… I think. My head was getting all foggy. But damn, the pistol was nice as hell. Such a simplistic look to it, but it was done in such a way that made visually pleasing to look at.

Mine now… bitch.

I was getting tired. Really tired. A tiredness that came with an uncomfortable coldness that crept in on you. It was a pleasant feeling. Probably due to the blood loss. That made sense. Blood transport oxygen to the rest of the body, and if you're losing it, your body isn't getting the necessary oxygen to function. At least, I was pretty sure that was how it went. Ah, fuck it…

The bastard across from me had stopped muttering. Actually, he had stopped moving. With a slow, painful exhale, I leaned my head backwards and closed my eyes… probably for the last time as I heard sirens in the distance.

My eyes shot open accompanied by a wave of pain going across my chest. My vision was blurry and everything looked… white? And brighter than I remembered. I looked across from me to see no one. The bastard that shot me was gone. There wasn't even a puddle of blood!

Maybe I was hallucinating a bit from blood loss? That sounded right because the lack of oxygen would fuck with my brain. But I didn't feel as weak as I did. I needed to get out of that alley, though.

With a pained groan, I started to stand up, using the dumpster next to me as a support. Once to my feet, I picked the right side of the alley to go down. It was closer to the main road. I had to use a wall for support as I slowly made my way out of the alleyway. A bit of blood that was covering my shirt and jacket now streaked across the wall as I leaned on it, the white making the red more prominent.

When I got to the end of the alley, my vision was starting to black out. Everything looked odd too. I saw bright signs with odd lettering. Some people walking by. No street though. It was all that whitewashed looking surface. I…

My legs gave out on my finally. I collapsed onto the ground, the pistol that I was still clutching flying out of my grasp. I heard some surprised gasps as people noticed me fall. I couldn't tell what was going on now. My head was so clouded that it wasn't even funny. All I remember was being rolled onto my back as someone tried to help before I lose consciousness.

I stood in a black void of sorts. It was odd. I felt no haziness from before. No pain. Actually, I didn't feel anything at all.

Was I dead?

Suddenly, I heard voices in the darkness. I closed my eyes and tried to listen.

"I got no pulse!"

"Prep the defib!"

"Do something!"

"Captain, get her out of here."

"One, two, three… clear!"

"Nothing. Hit him again!"

"One, two, three… clear!"

"...I got a pulse! It's weak. We need to get him to a hospital… if any are still standing."

What the hell? Is this some kind of weird dream that my mind is making up as paramedics work on me? Or was that what was actually being said? Fuck it! I'll find out if I… wake up…

I saw something before I woke up. It was some kind a floating structure, but it was too blurry to make out completely. It looked massive and had two prongs of sorts down most of its length. Yellow caution lights flashed around it…

Unlike the first time, my eyes opened slowly. It took a moment to adjust, but I was able to make out that I was in a hospital room. I felt weak as hell though. I glanced down at myself to see wires coming from under my hospital gown to a machine off to my right that was beeping rhythmically. But I also saw that bandage that was over a spot near my right shoulder. That what was still causing a painful ache while the rest of me just ached from not moving much.

The blinds in my room were closed. While not much light was getting in, I could tell it was late morning/early afternoon. I was fine with that. I didn't like being in bright rooms anyway. I wondered how long I was out though. It was about eight p.m. when I was shot.

I tried sitting up a bit more, but all that I got was a stab of pain from my upper right chest. As I closed my eyes and groaned in pain, there was a swishing noise followed by approaching footsteps. I opened my eyes to see a nurse standing there with a… tablet? The hell?

"Oh, you're awake," she said. "The doctor didn't think you would be up yet."

I grunted. "Well, the doctor was obviously wrong."

She nodded. "I was coming in to take some vitals. You don't mind, do you?"

"Nope, not at all."

The nurse went to work, checking the monitor first. After typing down my vitals on there (when the hell did the hospital start using tablets, though?), she checked my bandage. I hissed in pain slightly as she made sure the tape was secured. She apologized and made her way to the door when it opened.

I nearly freaked at that. The swishing noise I heard was the door, because it fucking slid into the damn wall! Doors in hospitals weren't supposed to do that! What the actual fuck?!

I actually freaked when I saw who, or what, walked into the room. Some thin and lanky being. Brownish skin. Large, narrow eyes. Horn-like things on top of its head. Nope, nope, nope! This had to be a dream. I had to be so drugged up that my dreams were lucid as hell. There had to be a reason why a fucking salarian from Mass Effect had just walked into my hospital room!

"Calm down," the nurse said soothingly in an attempt to get me to relax. "That's just the doctor. No need to be afraid."

Afraid?! She thought I was afraid?! I was not afraid!

"Out!" I shouted, pointing towards the door in a sudden movement. In that movement, a chair covered in a purple glow went flying into the wall near the doctor. When I looked down at myself again I saw that I too was glowing with purple… energy.



A/N: Sorry for the shortness, but I just don't want to go "Oh, I'm in Mass Effect. I'll just join Shepard now." within the first chapter. That's no fun. Too rushed. Especially when other stories have done similar things like that. Also, I want our main character to get use to things for a chapter or two. But I have plans for this story up until the beginning of what would be Mass Effect 3... if things are even close to the actual game anymore at that point.

Anyway, constructive criticism would be nice. Just don't review with "Good job" or "I like it" or "I don't like it". Tell me what exactly you like or don't like. That's the only way I'll be able to improve. But I have gone on enough with this author's note.

lPriime, signing off.