AUTHOR'S NOTE 8/20/13: I should have figured this out earlier, but my story has nothing to do with Eiichiro Oda's manga series, One Piece. If you're here for the Eleven Supernovas, then I sincerely apologize. The shared title is purely coincidence. I reached the name independently and without any copyright infringement whatsoever, so please don't make a big deal about it.

So this is my first fic. I know you get that a lot, but hear me out. I'm a very visual person, so this is the first time putting down stories on paper after years of thinking them out, and holding onto them via photographic memory. It's a crossover like you've never seen, and it hopefully works well too.

I suggest being familiar with the book series Pendragon, and its use of "territories," if you want a clearer image of why so many freak shows are running rampant around the Mass Effect Galaxy. Trust me, it will make sense.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the marvelous pieces of media featured here. If I did, Bill Gates would be asking me for money. *Runs and hides from countless lawyers.* Leave me alone!


Chapter 1: Elysium

It doesn't make sense. Cole MacGrath, told himself for the fourth time. What was there to stop? Not only that, but why would there be a need to send a starter group of three Supernovas, when two could have been than sufficient?

Unique Shepard wants you three to be the starter team. Shepard has made it abundantly clear that the results born from choice weren't good enough. You know better than most that better choices are why the Supernovas are used. You, Mercer, and Chief are our veteran members, so get us the results we've come to expect.

That was the end of the briefing before the flumes opened, and a Conduit, a virus, and a Spartan were dropped into their newest alternate dimension. That day had been three months ago. It wasn't all that crazy an experience anymore. This was their job, and they all loved it to some extent. Time was all but frozen back home, and they had a chance to be part of something so much bigger. In the years he spent as a Supernova, Cole had seen weird things from living viral shape-shifters and supersoldiers, to blond-haired robots and psychic guys with laser-swords.

Returning to his current worries, Cole checked the time on his (thankfully shock-resisitant) omni-tool. He knew that Mercer was returning from his reconnaissance venture into the Terminus Systems today, and he knew that Chief had arrived on shore leave. Cole snickered at the thought of Chief actually relaxing. It was his bright idea to offer his services to the Human Systems Alliance, so when he accomplished more in a month than most N7 operatives could do in a year, the brass thought he was "overworked". They were all just lucky that Cortana's efforts allowed Chief to keep his armor, and her. For some reason, AIs were taboo in this territory.

Cole, personally, had gotten a job here on Elysium, maintaining the power grid. Before he could laugh at the irony of his situation though, the electrokinetic Supernova felt a tingling in his spine. He knew by now that it meant a ship just dropped out of FTL near the planet. He looked up, but where he expected to see an Alliance vessel, in its place was a fast-approaching Batarian heavy frigate. What's worse, the tingling continued, and Cole realized that more ships were dropping out of FTL and he doubted any of them were friendly. "Great," he thought.

"Looks like the job just came to us." A familiar New York accent called out. On Cole's left, stood Alex Mercer, the nigh-immortal viral powerhouse. He had the same feral grin on his face that meant he was about to enjoy killing people, and in this case aliens. Mercer had tempered his sociopathy over the years, but violence and death were his purpose in life, and nothing would change that. "You were waiting at the wrong bar, by the way. Cortana picked up their signals even before the planet's early warning system, and Chief is trying to raise the Alliance."

Cole smirked, "And until they get here we draw a line in the sand?"

"Never seems to fail." They didn't need to turn around to know who the gravel-ground voice belonged to. Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy Spartan John-117 stood there with an assault rifle, ready to go.

Cole sighed, then began to crackle with sheets of blue lightning covering his body. In this territory, blue sparks meant "biotics" but even the powers of an asari Matriarch were small time compared to what he could do. "Cortana, what are we looking at?

"Batarians, and a lot of them. I think they want to take the Skyllian Verge." said Chief's "backseat driver".

Alex cracked his neck and his arms started to writhe around in the form of black tendrils, finally settling in the form of black organic metal claws. "Let's welcome them to Elysium then. I don't know about you, but I think we found our ticket into the galactic big leagues!"

Cole said nothing but he couldn't agree more. Splitting up had been to quietly learn more about this new territory, and now they had regrouped in time to make their presence known, loudly.

"And so we go," they all said in unison, charging directly at the Batarian invasion force.