The Prankster's Hero

Author's Note: I've become increasingly disillusioned with the version of Shepard that I've been chronicling over the last several years. It's just so... boring. There's no spark anymore. No magic. So it's time I did a reboot and start fresh.

Here's a sneak peek at what I have in mind.

Chapter 5: Sexy and I Know It

Mother T's House of Pleasure and Healing has been around for decades, expanding into a franchise that covered planets and space stations in several systems. They even got a spot on the Citadel—anything's cheaper than what the Consort asks for. I'd always meant to go there, but something always came up. Not to mention that the Alliance and the Council kept freaking out, going on and on about how I had to set a good example.

This time, I was the boss. Alliance regs didn't matter since I was no longer part of the Alliance. The Council wouldn't care what the hell I did, even if they did reinstate my Spectre status. And Cerberus... eh, they were too busy figuring out how to throw turian cage-fights or some such crap.

Yeah. That's right. I said Cerberus. They're the ones who brought me back from the dead after I kicked the bucket. Apparently they wanted to recruit me for a while. Bet they wanted my overwhelming coolness to offset their terrorist douchebaggery. I mean, it's me. Shepard. Accept no substitutes, you know what I'm saying? No wonder they took so long to bring me back from the dead—when you're talking about such a fine gift to women across the galaxy, you can't afford to cut corners just to save a lil time or a couple creds. And Cerberus didn't stop at simply bringing me back. No sirree, they gave me a new ship! Bigger than the old Normandy! Better than the old Normandy! That's right. Bigger and better—just like me!

Yeah, maybe it was kinda weird hanging out with the guys I bumped into—and shot up—in between hunting for Saren. But human colonies were going dark, and Cerberus was the only one willing to do anything instead of talk about it. Can't say the same about the Alliance. You wanna know what they did? Nothin'. Nada. Unless you count giving me the fucking finger! Same with the Council—well, the new one. They were kinda worried after I let the last Council get blown up. Pussies.

Only problem was, I didn't get a whole lot of action. The women I met on planets or starships or shit were so damn needy, going on and on and on about their problems instead of taking their pants off. Either that, or they were busy trying to blow my head off instead of blow... well, me. Too bad. Some of them were hot. Like the asari Eclipse chicks. Or that Blue Suns babe on Omega—what was her name? Whatever it was, she was smoking hot! Too bad I had to waste her rescuing Garrus. Bros before hos, right?

Most of the women on the Normandy were just as clueless—or maybe Cerberus was neutering them as well. Gabby was too busy getting turned on by the engines. Patel spent all her time listening to Rolston go on and on about his family. Dr. Chakwas was way too old for me—besides, she's good people. Yeah, she always goes after me for charging headfirst into combat, but at least she patches me up while she's doing it. And she's kinda funny once she gets liquored up.

Kelly was pretty hot. She liked bad boys. So I put the moves on her. That led to dinner, a private lap dance—she put on this really kinky stripper outfit. I think that's how she put herself through college—followed by a night to remember. But she started getting a bit clingy afterwards. Note to self: stop screwing shrinks. But she seemed okay with 'just being friends (with benefits),' so I guess it wasn't all that bad. I even managed to get her to feed my fish—I don't know why I keep buying them, only to kill them off because I forgot to feed them.

From the moment I sprung her out of Purgatory, I'd been hoping to get some action from Jack. She went around half-naked—seriously, she wore nothing but tats and leather straps from the waist up. She loved a good fight as much as I did. And she was up for a good time with yours truly. Yeah, she was a bit crazy. Maybe even flat-out psycho. But let me tell you something about psychos: the sex is unbelievable. For some reason, she shut me out after we pounded each other on the table. Didn't wanna talk to me. Probably just as well. Sex with psychos is like eating a deep-fried Twinkie—it's a guilty pleasure that you know is bad for you, but it's fine as long as you only have it once in a while. Too much, though, will kill you. I already died for two years. Two years where women across the galaxy were deprived of my awesomeness. Not looking for a repeat, you know what I'm saying?

I wouldn't mind gettin' my freak on with Kasumi. She's got a feisty streak, that one. Besides, her room's got a bar! With booze! That must mean she knows how to have a good time, right? Just one hitch: she was never around when I dropped by. I'm sure she was using her cloak, but I'll be damned if I could find her. Neither could Burt—he's this security guard who's usually stationed on duty in the CIC. He also wanted to get between her legs. We had a bet going on who could plow her first. Still do, as a matter of fact. I know, I know: easy money. No way Burt could possibly beat me. What can I say: there really is a sucker born every minute!

Samara was a major tease. On the one hand, she's an asari, which meant she was universally appealing to every species out there with a pulse. And she wore this armour that's split right down the middle, showing everything from a great rack (what is it with asari and their tits?) right down to her belly button. On the other hand, she was the greatest killjoy ever. Always going on and on and on and on about her stupid Code and how evildoers gotta get whacked and shit. Blah, blah, blah. Talk about a mood-killer. Would've blown her brains out just to shut her up if her daughter hadn't beaten me to it.

Morinth's a lot more fun, FYI. Dead ringer for her mom, right down to the boobs. Sex on legs with a killer voice and the naughtiest smile you've ever seen. Offered to spread her legs for me too. Still thinking about that.

Now Tali... mmm, mmm, mmm! Sexy voice, great curves. Sharp as a tack. And I actually had the freedom to put the moves on her this time: back on the ol' Normandy, Adams kept interrupting me every time I tried to flirt with her. Dunno why, but he didn't seem to approve of me for some reason. Only every time I tried to chat her up, she was busy fixing something or worrying about the Flotilla. Apparently fretting over the fate of your people is a major mood killer. Who knew?

The other babe I saved for last. She brought me back from the dead. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about: Miranda. Her dad sunk a ton of money sculpting her body, and man did he get every cred's worth. Soft pouty lips, great hair, amazing skin. Huge firm tits that are more than a handful, if you know what I mean, but don't sag at all. Killer legs that go on forever. Ass so fine and tight you could bounce a credit chit off. Sadly, she was all business with me. Cold, frigid, eyes-on-the-prize business. Too bad: I bet she'd be a major hellcat in the sack!

Thankfully, I had another plan.

Mother T's sure likes to stay low-key. You could look them up on the extranet and find out exactly where they are. Yet their branches were completely un-labeled. The one on this planet was just a plain, boring building with blank walls and a door. Probably better that way: I once visited a brothel that advertised with big neon lights and ads in every e-magazine out there. Only time I actually asked for my money back. I hit the door chime panel and waited.

A second later, I saw an overhead vid-cam turn towards me. The doors opened. A woman stood before me. Chocolate brown skin. Dark brown, almost black eyes. She looked familiar, somehow. Maybe someone I'd slept with before? Nah. She would've said something if that was the case. A manly specimen of perfection like me isn't something you forget.

"Welcome to Mother T's House of Pleasure and Healing," she smiled. "Are you here for pleasure or healing?"

"Pleasure," I said firmly. "Definitely pleasure."

"Of course," she smiled again. "This way, please."

I wasn't sure what the drill was here, so I decided to follow her lead. She took me to a small room filled with lockers. Some of them had a red light on the side, indicating they were locked. Others were green. "Please place your hardsuit and weapons in any of the spare lockers," she prompted. "The locker will prompt you for a password of your choice."

Figures. Place like this was used to people shooting off too soon, but the load was probably something a bit less lethal than ammunition. I took off my hardsuit and all my weapons, then stuffed it into locker 38. Selecting "6969" as the password—what else would I pick?—I turned to the woman. "What next?"

She handed me this red robe with black trim. Felt real smooth, like silk. After I put it on, she took me to this small room. Lots of couches, tons of cushions, soft lighting, that sort of thing. She offered a datapad to me. "Take your time," she offered. "Ring me when you have made your choice." She motioned to another door chime behind me. Then she left.

They had a lot of women here of all shapes, sizes and species. Gave me a lot of options to consider. Not that it matters: I was sure that once they saw me in all my studly glory, they'd figure how lucky they were to get a piece of me and do everything they could to rock my world. But that didn't mean I was going to pick at random.

I have to say, I was really tempted to go with one of the asari. Nice toned bodies, perky but not too perky, and exotic blue skin to boot! But in the end, I went with a human named Brianna. Nice set of jugs. Nice ass. Sea blue eyes beneath platinum blonde hair. Couldn't go wrong, I figured. I rang the chime, waited for the madam to come back and pointed to Brianna's pic on the datapad.

"Very good," the woman smiled. "This way."

I thought she'd take me straight to Brianna. Instead, she brought me to a computer terminal. Mother T's operated on a 'half now, half later' business model and it seemed like this was 'now.' I forked over my creds and the woman—I swear she looked familiar—checked a schedule. "Brianna just finished," she told me. "Follow me."

She led me up a marble staircase. We passed some guy—human, if you gotta know—on the way. Fake tan. Teeth way too white. And my package was definitely bigger.

Then we headed down a hallway with marble pillars, this gold frilly-stuff at the top and bottom of the walls, lotsa mirrors—maybe they held some orgies here—and a red carpet that my feet just sank in. Every once in a while, we passed a door. I listened hard, but I heard nothing. Maybe they were really well soundproofed. Either that, or all the clients were that bad. Yeah, that was probably it.

Brianna was at the end of the hall. "Through here," the woman smiled, reaching over and activating the door control. I smiled back before stepping through.

The room was fairly large—maybe half the size of my cabin on the Normandy. Muted lighting, mirrors everywhere, really big bed. I kinda stopped paying attention after that. Mostly because Brianna was lying on it. Hands behind her head, hidden behind a pillow—probably handcuffed. Wearing nothing but a wide smile and...

...huh.

This was weird.

I would understand if she was wearing nothing. Or some skimpy lingerie. Or maybe even a stripper outfit. But it looked like she was wearing a hardsuit. Maybe it was one of those imitation things, like the one that pathetic wannabe was wearing on Illium. What was his name? Ken? Colin? Cory? Whatever.

"Sir, I've been a bad girl, sir!" Brianna barked. "Reporting for disciplinary action, sir!"

Looked like Brianna was doing some roleplay. Okay. I hadn't specified that when I was paying my first installment, but I can roll with it.

Grinning, I took a step forward. The door closed behind me. My eyes ran over her body, looking for the fastest way to take her hardsuit off.

That's when I noticed a few other things.

First, every hardsuit's a bit different. An engineer in a zero-G harness has latches in different spots than a scientist wearing a hostile environment rig. Trust me, I've peeled enough of 'em off to know the difference. The latches on this one, though, were exactly where you'd expect to find them on a military-grade hardsuit.

Second, I didn't see any handcuffs. I did see a bulge that looked just like a pistol. And not a toy pistol. Naw, it looked a hell of a lot like a heavy pistol. M-6 Carnifex, if I was a betting man.

Third, I got a good look at her eyes. Sea blue, just like the pic. But cold as ice.

Somehow, I got the feeling that I was about to get screwed—and not in a good way.

They say that when you think you're gonna die, everything slows to a crawl. They say you can suddenly hear your own heartbeat. They say your life flashes before your eyes. I watched as Brianna pulled out her heavy pistol from underneath the pillow and pointed it at me.

You wanna know something?

'They' don't know shit.

I knew I wasn't gonna die. My heartbeat didn't get any louder. And I sure as hell didn't have any flashbacks. Why would I? I'm Shepard. You think I'm gonna freak because some bitch trying to shoot me instead of screw me like she was paid to do? Don't be stupid. I was just pissed because I wasn't gonna get my money's worth.

Only reason things slowed down was because I was gettin' ready to Charge that bitch.

Yeah, that's right. That's 'Charge' with a capital C. Neat lil trick I developed after I came back from the dead, thanks to Cerberus and the L5n implants they stuck in me. Lets me build up a nice head—of biotic steam, not the other kind—and speed right into whatever asshole had the poor sense to piss me off. Doesn't matter how much crap is in the way: I'll just pass right through it. Or 'phase' if you wanna be all smartass and technical about it. Whatever. Important thing is that I can slam right into whoever's bugging me and knock him or her flat on its ass. No matter how big or small the pissant is. And I won't feel a thing. Plus, I get to fire off a free shot while the dickhead's still flying through the air, 'cuz I'm as skilled as I am good-looking.

Far as I know, I'm the only one who can do it. Well, I guess there was that one asari bitch on Illium, but I whacked her good.

Sometimes, it's hard to be me.

Anyway, I Charged right towards Brianna while she was still aiming her pistol. Impact rammed her straight into the bedpost and split her head wide open—stupid bitch hadn't activated her shields, you see. Easy-peasy. So much for the ambush.

Now that she was dead, I quickly searched her body. Damn shame I couldn't get to fuck her—damn, she was fine!—but I had other worries. I got the feeling this room was wired with vid-cams or bugs or something. Which meant that anyone watching or listening would know Brianna had failed. Which meant that anyone else wanting to screw me over, instead of simply screwing me, would be heading my way.

I managed to find a couple more thermal clips, which I stuck into my robe. Then I swiped the pistol—until I got to the locker room, this would be the only weapon I had. Aside from my devastating good looks and my godlike battle skills, of course.

Almost felt sorry for the SOBs.

Actually, no. I didn't.

As soon as I poked my head out and looked down the corridor, I realized that every door was open. Every door had a whore. With a gun.

By the time every gun opened fire, I was already getting ready to Charge. Partly 'cuz I was itching for some action, partly 'cuz my barriers were taking some major heat. I wasn't worried: barriers would recharge by the time I hit the next bitch. Besides, no way some whore was gonna take me down.

I Charged to the first door on my left, ramming right into the brunette before she could get a shot off. Yanking my pistol out of the sash in my robe, I lifted it up, aimed and fired. Two bullets slammed into the bitch as she bounced off the wall, then a third shot took her down. As her guts were spilling out on the nice, expensive carpet, I got ready to Charge across the corridor.

Bam, said the lady! Surprised the shit out of the next hooker. Emptied the rest of my clip right between her wide, pretty eyes. Picked up her gun, then dropped it—only had one shot left. She actually thought that one shot would be enough to take me out. One shot. For me. Me! Had to stop and laugh, 'cuz it was that funny.

A boom of thunder hit my ears just before a whackload of shrapnel hit, well, me. Shit, that hurt. Probably 'cuz it wasn't no pistol shot—someone out there was packing a shotgun! If it wasn't for my barriers, I might've actually gotten hurt. I turned around, biotic field building up for another Charge—

—damn it! Bitch fired again. And she had a twin. Seriously—next room had two asari. Twins, by the look of things. Both toting shotguns. They fired in unison, hitting me smack in the face. Couple pellets squeezed through my barriers and grazed my cheek. I felt something wet trickle down my cheek. Swiping it with my finger, I took a look. It was blood. My blood.

"Hey!" I yelled, glaring at the asari. "I just paid good money to heal my face!"

Really, I did. After finding some booze for Dr. Chakwas, she did some research and found a way to speed up the healing of all my scars (another reason why she's good people). I'd finally scraped together enough platinum to build the thing—would've done it earlier, 'cuz my face is too damn pretty to stay all scratched and jaggedy, but shotgun upgrades don't pay for themselves. Anyway, I finally got to use the fix-it thingamabob. Healed the cracks and scars up real nice. And these bitches just tore 'em open again!

I was so mad, I was seein' red. Charging right into them, I sent one flying across the room and knocked other one flat on her ass. Scooping up a shotgun from the closest asari—M-27 Scimitar, if you gotta know—I discharged it right in her smug blue face. Barriers took the brunt of it, so I pulled the trigger again. And again. Finally blew her brains out. Then I turned on her sister.

She hit me with a biotic blast just as I pulled the trigger. Made me miss—instead of digging a brand new hole in her noggin, I hit her right in the gut. Even worse, her attack sent me staggering into the hallway, where all her pals were waiting.

I managed to finish her off before I got hit. Several times. Barriers drained in a jiffy. My pretty red robe got a lot less pretty and a lot more red. Summoning my biotics, I mustered up another Charge that sent me careening straight into the next hostile—drell, this time. I quickly reloaded while she was still picking herself up, then opened fire. To my surprise, the first shot actually missed. Had to use up the rest of the shotgun clip chasing that sucker down. She finally slumped to the ground, hands jammed tight against her stomach to keep her guts inside. Ignoring her, I reloaded, turned around and ran straight to the next chick. That's right: didn't bother to Charge. Just ran straight through the volley of fire, letting my barriers soak up the damage as I bore down on my next target. Gal was so freaked out, she was screaming as she tore apart what was left of my barriers. Didn't stop me from reaching her and giving her an uppercut right to the kisser—I would've kicked her, but all I had on my gorgeous feet were velvet slippers.

"Oh, it hurts!" I howled as I wailed away on her. "It hurts! It hurts to be this good!" I kept pounding and pounding until I snapped her skinny little neck. Then I coughed up a bit of blood and looked around for clips—I was kinda running low. Scrounged up a couple, slipped 'em in my robe and went on my merry way.

When you've got mad skills like I do—wait. What am I talkin' about? No one's got mad skills like I do. Well, if by some miracle you had skills that were close to my sheer awesomeness, you don't sweat the small stuff. Bad guys like the bitches trying—and failing—to kill me kinda blur together after a while. So the rest of the fight went something like this:

Charged into an asari. Blew her brains out.

Charged into a human. Rammed my shotgun right into her knees and blew her kneecaps away before slamming my foot right into her neck.

Charged into the batarian. Jammed the shotgun right into her face and blew it away 'cuz she was just that ugly.

Charged into another asari. Centre-of-mass this time. Think I left one of my slippers behind.

Human. Headshot. 'Nuff said.

Another human. Bare-knuckled glory.

Two asari—don't think they were sisters this time. Couple shotgun blasts tore one of them wide open. The other one landed a couple lucky shots before I gave her two more eyeholes. Just like that batarian I took out earlier.

Asari again. Decent fighter. Exchanged a couple punches before I jammed a fist into her mouth and fired a biotic volley right down her throat. Probably turned her guts into scrambled eggs. Blue scrambled eggs.

Human. Shot her a couple times, ducked before she fired back, then somersaulted over the bed and shot her in the back. Lost the other slipper. Didn't bother going back for it.

Asari.

Human.

Asari.

Hanar.

Asari.

Human.

Asari.

Turian.

Asari.

Elcor.

…

…

Took me a second to realize I'd made it all the way to the end of the corridor. Turning around, and ignoring the jab of pain in my side, I looked back. Most of the mirrors along the corridor had been shattered. There were pools and splatters and sprays of red and blue blood everywhere. Bodies were slumped and sprawled out of every other room.

A normal person wouldn't have made it this far. Especially if all he had was whatever crap weapons he could pry from the cold fingers of dead bitches. But I wasn't normal. Even though this pretty silk robe was pretty much ripped to shreds, I was still standing. Even though I'd been hit several times, I was still standing. Even though I had to fight and scramble without any of my gear, I was still standing.

Only one conclusion I could make from all this:

"I AM A SEXY SHOELESS GOD OF WAR!"

After announcing my sexiness to the world, I hobbled over to the med-station. It was tucked behind one of the pillars in the hallway, which was why I missed it the first time. Normally I wouldn't bother, but all the injuries I'd picked up were starting to show. I had to look my best for the next babe or bitch who crossed my path, after all.

Next move was to get to the locker and retrieve my hardsuit and gear. Clothes make the man, you know, and my hardsuit made me look even hotter than usual. Hell, the sheer sight of me in my hardsuit could've stopped all the whores in their tracks and start an orgy right there and then. Not that I minded all that fighting—combat's the next best thing to a good lay—but the hardsuit would've made things a lot more fun.

And I couldn't wait to ditch these crap weapons and get some real guns. The Carnifex and the Scimitar weren't the worst weapons I'd had to use, but they were pretty close. And, to be honest, I'd gotten used to Vera and all the other gals. Usin' another weapon… seemed like cheating. Didn't seem right.

"I knew I should've called in sick today."

Company. Oh goodie!

"Tell me about it," a second voice joined in. "Boss looked ready to tear someone's head off."

"Can't blame her," the first voice snorted. "Did you see the vid-feeds? That guy took out every one of our girls."

"Um… yeah," the second voice said slowly. "Got a question for ya: aren't you worried about what might happen if we go up there?"

"Relax. Boss doesn't fuck around. She called in the cavalry while you were takin' a leak. They'll take care of him. All we gotta do is make sure the client don't get anywhere near the locker room."

By this point, I'd sneaked down the stairs. No one had spotted me yet—guess the vid-cams were only stationed upstairs. Now where was that locker room? To my right? No, don't think so. Pretty sure it was around the corner and to my left...

...right where the loudmouths were talking. Go figure. I wasn't complaining, though: more schmucks to whack. Sweet!

I took a quick peek. Neither of them was packing anything stronger than a pistol. And their hardsuits were just run-of-the-mill cheap crap. "I don't know, man..." one of them said uneasily. His voice matched the second guy I'd heard.

"You don't have to know," the other one snapped. Definitely voice number one. "You just gotta do your job. Chicken out like that in front of the boss and you'll get real dead for sure. Now stop being such a pussy and keep watch."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough talk. It's Shepard Time. I took a deep breath, double-checked that my weapons were fully loaded and Charged. I hit the pussy guard and sent him flying into the wall. The other guy was too busy gawking at me to react until I jammed my shotgun into his face. One shot blew away his shields. Second shot blew away his head.

Pussy guard was crawling away, hoping I wouldn't notice. I calmly walked after him. He looked over his shoulder, noticed I was following, whimpered and tried to crawl faster. Rolling my eyes, I raised my shotgun and opened fire. Had to put him out of his misery.

Barely stopping to scoop up another thermal clip, I hauled ass to the locker room. Just in time too—there were three or four guards in front of the door. Looked like they just got there and were getting set up. Lucky me: that gave me a chance to get past them and into the locker room. Yeah, I know. I wanted to kill them too. But that would have to wait.

Don't get me wrong: I'm so damned good that I make it look easy, but I'm not stupid. My weapons were crap, my robe was falling apart and I couldn't work the ol' Shepard magic because none of the guards were chicks. So I'd have to take a rain check for now.

Instead of going in guns blazing, I Charged right into them, sent them heads over heels like oversized bowling pins and walked through the door before they had a chance to pick themselves off the floor. Then I worked some magic with my fingers—yes, my digits are just as talented with a computer console as they are when getting some babe off—and sealed the door. No way they could get in without finding some gadget to manually open it. And while they did that, I could get ready.

First I stripped off my robe. Really wished I could do it in slow-motion in front of a drooling hot chick before screwing her brains out, but that would have to wait. I quickly donned my Kestrel Armour—one of the best presents Cerberus ever gave me—and stowed away any spare thermal clips I'd scrounged up so far. Then I grabbed my weapons, made sure each of them had a full round and an active incendiary mod and holstered them.

By this point, I could hear a lot of commotion outside. Seemed like the guards out there were starting to break through. As soon as they got the door open, they'd be storming in. Eyes wide and guns blazing. It'd be dicey. Dangerous, even. There'd be death and destruction aplenty.

Aside from when I'm having sex, that's the only time when I feel really alive.

So I strolled up to the door, gave Vera a kiss for good luck, cued up some music to get me in the mood and got ready to unleash the Shepard.

The song began just as the door was opening. I lifted Vera and pulled the trigger just as the first words rang out over the speakers in my helmet.

"Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart
How the music can free her, whenever it starts."

A guard fell back, a geyser of blood and flame erupting where his neck used to be. Damn, I love shotguns. Reaching out, I grabbed another guard, pulled him towards me and started enthusiastically pounding the snot out of him, timing my punches to the rhythm of the song.

"And it's magic, if the music is groovy
It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie."

Naturally, my human punching bag didn't last long under the onslaught of my manly muscles. Mustering up a biotic field, I Charged the next guy, ramming him into the wall and firing a lethal round right into his gut before he could even begin to fall.

"I'll tell you about the magic, and it'll free your soul
But it's like trying to tell a stranger 'bout rock and roll."

Guard number four dropped his assault rifle and ran screaming down the hall. I skipped along behind him, Vera at the ready, joy in my heart and music in my ears:

"If you believe in magic don't bother to choose.
If it's jug band music or rhythm and blues.
Just go and listen, it'll start with a smile.
It won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try."

I got interrupted when the guard suddenly stopped and turned around, a confident smile wiping away the previous look of panic. The reason for his bravado soon became clear to me: backup. Just two guards, but I guess he thought that the tables had turned, now that I was outnumbered. Silly guard. I just kept skipping along, holstering Vera and pulling out another weapon.

"If you believe in fire," I sang, improvising the lyrics on the spot (and singing in-key, of course. Did you expect anything less from a specimen of perfection like me?), "come along with me. I'll barbeque the lot of you and set you free. And maybe, if the napalm is right, you'll burn and cook today, sorta late at night."

Had to stop just briefly as a couple lucky shots punched through my barriers and shattered against my hardsuit. Those silly guards had been firing like crazy while I was singing. Can you believe they actually thought that would stop me from pulling Fiona's trigger and spraying them down with napalm?

I skipped to the side, dodging a charred guard just before he collapsed, then dodged the other way to avoid the other charred guard. Guard number three—the one I'd chased down the hall, as a matter of fact—was still alive. But his shields were fried and he was too busy slapping out fires to shoot at me. I lifted Fiona and prepared to hose him down...

...then stopped. Seemed to me that this guy was scared shitless of me—rightly so. He'd seen how amazing and unstoppable I was. And he was alive. Maybe I could get some intel. Lunging forward, I tripped him. Then I planted a foot on his chest when he tried to get up. I waved Fiona's pilot light in front of his eyes to get his attention.

"Gah!"

"Relax, pal," I grinned. "I don't wanna hurt you. I just have a couple questions."

He looked at the blackened remains of his buddies, then looked back at me. He raised an eyebrow. I think he doubted me.

"Look at it this way," I offered. "What do you have to lose?"

The guard sighed. "Fine. What?"

"Well, let's start with why you guys are trying to kill me."

"You killed our girls," he said.

"Well they were trying to kill me first," I shrugged. "And they wound up just as dead, by the way. Not quite as well done or charbroiled as your buddies here, but they're still dead. Brains splattered. Heads blown away. Boobs ruined 'cuz I had to riddle their chests with bullets. Guts ripped out. That sorta thing. And all 'cuz they had to try and kill me. Why is that, huh? Why is every bitch and asshole in this joint trying to kill me?"

He didn't say anything at first, so I aimed my flamethrower to the side. The guard flinched as a small trickle of flame licked out, scorching the side of the wall. "This is like pulling teeth," I warned. "If that's the only way for me to get a straight answer out of you, then I'm gonna start yanking."

"Look, I dunno why the boss has such a mad-on for you!" the guard screamed frantically. "I just know that as soon as you started looking through our list, she paged every guard on duty. Told us to suit up, grab our gear and hand out weapons to the girls. Hell, she even called in all the guards who weren't on duty, even though she usually hates paying overtime."

Well, it's not like they got someone like me on a regular basis. Mostly because no one's like me. "Where's your boss," I snapped.

"Down that way," the guard said, tilting his shoulder to the right. I glanced in that direction. I felt him shift beneath my foot. Instinctively, I squeezed the trigger.

I looked back in time to see him yank his hand away from his pistol and flail about madly as the superheated napalm clung to him, eating away at his hardsuit and flesh. Nice try, I suppose, trying to get the jump on me. Didn't work, obviously. Oh well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about having a prisoner to lug around. He'd slow me down.

Then I had another one of my brilliant brainwaves. Reaching down, I pulled off the guard's omni-tool before the fires could spread that far. I synced it with my own omni-tool and started scrolling through the directory. Most of it was just basic stuff: operation manuals, scanning programs, low-res porn, boring stuff like that. The only useful thing was a map of the building: and the location of the boss's office.

First thing that came to mind was: damn, I'm good.

Second thing: son of a bitch!

See, the boss's office was upstairs. Turned out that one of the doors in the hallway of whores didn't lead to a bed and someone with a big, wide smile. Nope, it actually led down another hallway to a private elevator, which led up to the top floor. Top floor was where the boss was. Which meant I had to backtrack. I hate backtracking. Believe me, I spend enough time backtracking as it is. Just to track down one last bit of loot or get my bearings after one too many Charges. Well, maybe just the looting. You can never Charge too many times. Not when you're as awesome as I am.

So back along the corridor I went, stepping over charred and bloody corpses. I was just about to enter the main lobby when I saw a lot of guns. And a lot of guards. Definitely more than four. Guess the backup had arrived. "So many guards," I whispered, feeling goddamn giddy as I cued up another song from my playlist. This was gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel.

It took a while for the guards to figure out they weren't alone. Hell, I had enough time to pick a song and start it up before they put two and two together. Once they finally realized that the sexiest man in the galaxy had arrived, though, they whirled around and raised their weapons. "FREEZE!" one of them yelled.

I loaded a fresh thermal clip into Vera, stepped into the lobby and gave them a cocky grin.

"Come on!" I yelled back. "Give me your best shot, you bastards! I can take it!"

Most of the guards were either staring at—or drooling over, for all I know—me or looking at each other. I guess the rest were either too professional or too amazed by my presence. I mean, look at me: cutting-edge suit, handsome mug and loaded with enough weapons to launch someone into orbit? That's pretty imposing, don't you think? You can be honest with me: I was going for imposing.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

Looked like it worked, too. Only two or three guards—including the guy with the big mouth—opened fire. Six or seven shots later, the trigger-happy guards realized that I was still standing. Yeah, I'm incredible with defence as well as offense. Makes you want me, doesn't it? "Holy shit," Big Mouth sputtered.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

I promptly fired off two or three shots and took him out. Then I switched to Tommi—my submachine gun—and emptied her clip, taking out the shields of the other guards who'd tried to take me out. Next step was to use my amazing biotics to yank them all up in the air—and have 'em floating right in front of me. That's right—I turned them into living shields. Give the guards another reason to marvel over my mad skills.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight."

Plus, it was a neat distraction while I reloaded Vera and Kelly. Only took a few seconds since I'm quick with everything—except sex, of course. Gotta take yer time with the important stuff.

"In the jungle, the quiet jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight."

Once I was ready, I took a deep breath, braced myself and Charged right into one of the floating guards. Sent him flying right across the lobby and into the wall. He slumped down—well, most of him anyway. His head was kinda wedged into the wall, which left the rest of his body dangling from the wall. Without missing a beat, I pivoted and took out the last floating guard with one shot from Vera.

That snapped the guards out of their funk. They all started shooting at me. They all missed, because while I was firing Vera, I was also moving for a nearby pillar. Yeah, I can do more than one thing at a time. Usually, I like to do stuff like fondle women's boobies while splitting them wide open, but you can't always get your way. So I had to settle for shooting one guy, moving for the pillar, shooting another guy along the way, then taking cover.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

The pillar I wound up hiding behind blocked the guards from getting a clear shot, but it also meant I couldn't see where they were. Not unless I wanted to poke my head out like a noob and get my beautiful face blown off. I'd rather blow their heads off. And, thanks to my HUD, I could figure out where the guards were located so I could do just that. Speaking of which...

...I reached out, grabbed a guard and pulled him towards me. I lined the two of us up so the pillar blocked us, then started smashing his head into the pillar. Only took a couple tries before I broke his neck. After that, I dropped him, pulled out Vera and Charged another guard. Sent him flying, blew him away with a single shot. Just another kill from the world's awesomest biotic man.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

Rather than take the time to reload Vera, I holstered her and pulled out Tommi. Mowed down two guards with a single clip. That's right: two for one. Always love those deals. Just like that time when I boned Brandi and Candi.

By this point, my barriers were pretty much shot to pieces. I needed to reload. Or find a spare second to switch weapons. Problem was: I didn't have that time. Not with guards everywhere shooting at me, usually from the very places I wanted to hide behind. Then I spotted an opportunity.

"Near the village, the peaceful village,
The lion sleeps tonight."

I Charged another guard. This time, I didn't shoot him mid-air. I was too busy grabbing his grenade launcher. Then I had to see if it worked. The way his body suddenly exploded in a cloud of blood and guts told me the answer was probably yes.

"Near the village, the quiet village,
The lion sleeps tonight."

I started squeezing the trigger again and again. Grenade after grenade flew out, blowing up shields, blowing up hardsuit plates, blowing up skin and flesh and bone. Man, I love blowing things up! This was what life was all about!

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

Once I'd used up the grenade launcher's power cell, I threw it aside and hauled out Mattie—my assault rifle, if you gotta know. Named because she was a bonafide M-96 Mattock. Well, before the upgrades turned her into something even more special.

Most people wouldn't be able to fire her on the move and still hit their targets. Most people aren't as amazing as me. I Charged another guard and blew him away with three or six shots, then steadily started taking out guards one at a time. BAM-BAM-BAM said the lady as guard after guard dropped with a scream, probably because they felt the incendiary mod setting them on fire just before the bullet blew their brains out. Must've taken out another three guards at least before I used up the thermal clip's last shot.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.
A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

Ducking behind a pillar, I put Mattie away. She'd had her fun. Now it was Kimmy's turn. Yanking out my Phalanx pistol, I headed back into the fray, letting Kimmy's cold blue laser sight give the silly guards a split second's warning before they got pounded—and not by some hot chick.

"In the jungle, the urban jungle, the vanguard sleeps tonight!" I belted out, plugging some poor guard with several large holes in his gut. "In the jungle, the concrete jungle, the big man sleeps tonight!"

By this point, there were only two guards left, both of whom had suddenly developed a keen interest in the door. Probably because all of their buddies had been killed, blown away and had their brains and guts splattered everywhere. Oh yeah, and they were probably burned to a crisp.

Speaking of which, I swapped Kimmy for Fiona. Skipping behind the two guards, I reached out and touched them. With searing-hot plasma. Because I care. Because I'm so damn generous, I'm willing to drain a bit from Fiona's own personal power cell, just so I could watch as their shields melted away under the sheer heat—from Fiona, not my smoldering gaze—and their bodies practically barbequed inside their hardsuits.

"Weeeeeeeeeee dee dee dee, dee dum dum daway!
Weeeeeeeeeee dee dee dee, dee dum dum—gah!"

My award-winning performance was interrupted by a missile. And another one. Any other biotic would have his barriers torn apart by that. Not me. Nuh uh, my barriers sucked it up. Whirling around, I traced the missiles back to a...

Huh.

A woman was standing halfway up the stairs, missile launcher in hand. It was the boss. The one who'd first greeted me at the door. And showed me to the locker room where I stored my gear. And gave me the datapad with all the whore pics.

At least I wouldn't have to go hunting for her. I had a bone to pick with her. "Hey!" I yelled. "You promised me a good time. Not to say I didn't have fun killing everyone, but that wasn't why I came here. I want a refund, damn it!"

"And I want my daughter!" she yelled back, firing another shot. This time, she missed.

"Your... what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You killed my daughter!"

"I did?"

"You did."

"That's why you sicced your whores and guards on me?"

"YES!"

I stared at her. "You sure I didn't knock her up or something? That would make more sense—actually, no it wouldn't. You should be thanking me if that's the case, 'cuz he's gonna be one handsome grandson. Or drop-dead gorgeous granddaughter."

"She's dead all right, and it's all your fault. You went to Omega and killed all those mercs!"

"So?" I shrugged. "What's your point?"

"Some of those mercs were from the Blue Suns."

"Still don't get it," I confessed.

"One of those Blue Suns was named Jentha! She was my daughter!"

Jentha... Jentha... it suddenly came to me. That's why the woman looked so familiar. She looked just like that hot Blue Suns chick on Omega! The one I would've worked the ol' Shepard magic on if she wasn't standing between me and getting Garrus out in one piece!

"Look, she was trying to kill me!" I yelled back. "Sorry about the way things turned out, but if she's shooting at me, she's fair game. Not my fault she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to kill me isn't gonna bring her back!"

"Maybe not," Jentha's mom said quietly before raising her voice again. "But if it helps avenge her death, I'll gladly kill you ten times over!"

She squeezed the trigger again. And missed again. She screamed and fired again. And missed again. She kept firing missiles, screaming like a goddamn banshee, and I kept dodging them. In slow motion. Like the vids. My barriers recovered from all the bullets they'd soaked up as I ducked and rolled. Vera, Mattie and all my girls got fresh presents as I reloaded them with thermal clips that I'd swiped from all the guards I whacked. Hell, I even managed to find another power cell to top up Fiona.

Jentha's mom raised her missile launcher and squeezed the trigger. This time, nothing came out. Guess she'd used up the last dregs of her power cell. She popped it out, tossed it aside and fumbled for another one.

That was the point when I decided that enough was enough. To stretch this out any longer would just be embarrassing. So I Charged right into her, hitting her with enough force to send her over the rails and down a couple metres to the floor below. From above, I pounded her shields with a full round of Mattie's magic. By the time her shields were toast, I was ready to Charge her again. I rammed her into the walls, switched Mattie for Vera and opened fire. Three shots tore her fancy robes—and the armour plating she was wearing underneath—wide open. Jentha's mom stumbled to her feet. I let her stand up before grabbing Kimmy, shoved her muzzle through the hole that Vera had made, and discharged six shots.

Coughing up blood, Jentha's mom slumped back to the floor. "Bastard!" she hissed.

"Eh, maybe you're right," I smirked. "Doesn't matter: I won. You lost. You lost your daughter. You lost your girls. You lost your guards. You lost everything!"

"Go to hell!"

"Can't. Too much to do, too many babes to bone!"

"No. Go. To. Hell!"

I ignored her at first, turning to walk away. Then I heard her...

...her laughter.

Looking back, I saw she was still down on the floor. One hand was pressed tight against her belly, which wasn't doing much to stem all the blood leaking out. The other hand was holding something that looked like a deadman's switch.

Oh, fuck me.

Mustering up another head of biotic steam, I Charged out the doors. The laughter of a crazy bitch motherfucker was ringing in my ears just before it was blown away by the loud booms and bangs of what sounded like the whole goddamn building going up. Picking myself up, I looked back at the inferno I'd just blasted out. Action heroes in all those vids you see on the extranet can only dream of doing what I do and making it look so goddamn easy and sexy.

So what if I didn't get the girl? I got to shoot my way through an entire building full of homicidal whores, trigger-happy guards and one batshit crazy MILF, and managed to escape before said MILF blew up her workplace—and set the adjoining buildings on fire.

Now if only I could get my deposit back...

I was still pondering how to get my creds back when a skycar touched down. Miranda got out, looked around, rolled her eyes—I have no idea why—and walked over.

"Hi Miranda," I said brightly. "How'd ya find me?"

"Basic search using the criteria of where you'd be likely to go for R&R, situations where you'd shoot your way out and places most likely to go up in flames," she grumbled.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" I grinned, pointing over my shoulder.

"That's one way of putting it."

"Makes you want me, right?"

Miranda rolled her eyes again. Might be a nervous tic. She should get that checked when we returned to the Normandy, I told her.

"That might be difficult," Miranda replied. "I got a message from EDI a few minutes ago. It appears that the Reaper IFF disabled the Normandy and broadcast her location to the Collectors, who promptly arrived and abducted the crew."

"The entire crew?" I sputtered.

"Joker escaped, but everyone else was abducted," Miranda clarified.

I looked back at the inferno where Mother T's used to be. "So... we have to go after them."

"The longer we wait, the less likely it will be that we will rescue the crew in time," Miranda confirmed.

My eyes narrowed. My hands tightened into fists. "So what you're saying..." I said slowly "is that because the Collectors upped the stakes... we have to go after them now and wipe them out... instead of enjoying some time off and getting laid?"

Miranda paused. "Yes," she sighed, "that's exactly what I'm saying."

"T-tho-those b-bastards!" I spat out. "They must be the biggest pack of cockblocks in the history of cockblocks!"

"Yes, I suppose they are," Miranda agreed. Rather neutrally, I thought.

"That's it," I raged. "Saddle up the squad. We're going back to the Normandy. We're going through the Omega 4 relay. We're going for the Collectors and we're gonna wipe them out!"

"Very good, Commander."

We got back into the skycar. Miranda powered it up—she wouldn't let me drive. Not after the last couple missions. Some stupid crap about almost blowing up the Hammerhead and everyone inside it—and we flew away.

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh..."

"Shepard!"

Author's Note: I have no intention of rebooting Shepard. Certainly not with this chauvinistic, narcissistic blowhard. It is April Fool's Day, after all.

Believe it or not, this was written before Mass Effect 3: Citadel. It all began several years ago when I wondered what it would be like if the snarky, kleptomaniacal hero-who's-no-longer-in-denial Shepard we've all grown to love somehow found himself in some mirror universe. But I couldn't really get that idea off the ground. Then I tried the other way around, imagining some squad member from said mirror universe stumbling into the mainstream Heroverse and telling tales of what an ass mirror Shepard was... only to meet similar results. Finally, I realized what I really wanted to do: tell a tale of mirror Shepard himself in all his self-absorbed, over-the-top glory. As oxymoronic as it might sound, I'm delightfully disgusted with the results. I hope you felt the same...or, at the very least, weren't too offended with my warped sense of humour.

And in case you were wondering, the songs in this chapter were 'Do You Believe in Magic' by The Lovin' Spoonful and 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' by The Tokens.