Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The holographic image flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow across Commander Shepard's face. The Illusive Man's piercing eyes seemed to bore into her very soul as he spoke, his voice low and urgent.

"Shepard, we have a situation that requires your immediate attention. The Collectors are abducting entire human colonies, and we suspect they are working for the Reapers. I need you to assemble an elite team to take them down."

Shepard narrowed her eyes, studying the enigmatic figure before her. The Illusive Man took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his chiseled features.

She crossed her arms. "I'm not exactly a fan of Cerberus. Why should I trust you?"

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Because, Commander, we are the only ones with the resources and the will to stop this threat. The Alliance and the Council refuse to act. It's up to us."

Shepard's mind raced with the implications. Entire colonies, disappearing without a trace?, Just like Freedom’s Progress?. The Collectors were a mysterious and formidable foe, striking fear into the hearts of even the bravest soldiers. And if they were truly working for the Reapers...

She straightened her shoulders, a steely resolve settling over her. "I'll do it. But I have conditions. I pick my own team, and I answer to no one but myself. Understood?"

The Illusive Man inclined his head slightly. "I would expect nothing less from you, Shepard. You'll have access to our files on potential recruits. Choose wisely. There is no room for failure here Shepard, Good luck"

As the hologram winked out, Shepard let out a slow breath. The weight of the mission settled heavily upon her, She was dead for two years, her team was nowhere to be found, and she had no backing from the alliance or the council? she sighed, but she refused to buckle under the pressure. Too many lives were at stake.

She strode purposefully towards the communications terminal, her boots echoing on the metal floor. Each step she took echoed on the metal floor, a steady rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her heart. The sound of her boots hitting the floor was almost thunderous, a reminder of the resolute determination in her steps. It was time to get to work. The galaxy needed a hero, and Commander Shepard was ready to answer the call. No matter the cost.

She never had a moment to reflect on all that has happened since her awakening, or revival. Whatever one may call it, The moment she woke up, it was a battle for survival. The silence was almost haunting, How does one deal with the stress of being revived and thrust into a situation that she dare say, mirrored her life before her death. Atleast she had Joker and doctor Chawkwas, two familiar faces at least.

Shepard stood before the view port, her emerald eyes fixed on the inky expanse of space. The distant stars glimmered like shards of broken glass, cold and unforgiving. Her mind drifted to the past, to the battles she had fought and the sacrifices she had made.

Kaidan's visage loomed large in her thoughts once more, his gentle gaze and warm grin a poignant echo of her heartache. The burden of Virmire bore down on her, the excruciating dilemma she had been compelled to confront. To save Kaidan or safeguard Ashley and the brave Salarian STG operatives? In the end, she had chosen Ashley, yet the remorse lingered like a relentless specter, an unyielding anguish that refused to release its grip.

"I beg your forgiveness, Kaidan," she whispered, her words quivering with raw sentiment. "But I can't silence this nagging doubt... was my decision justified?" Her palm pressed against the icy pane as conflicting emotions churned within her, resolute in honoring Kaidan's valiant sacrifice while grappling with the reverberations of her choice.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew her back to the present. She steeled her resolved, throwing on her tough, cocky, and over all confident attitude. One that was honed through years of combat and training. She was the first Human spectre, she didn’t break under stress. She turned to see Miranda Lawson, her forced second-in-command, standing at attention.

"Commander, the Normandy SR-2 is ready for your inspection," Miranda said crisply, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.

Shepard nodded, a flicker of anticipation chasing away the shadows of the past. "Lead the way."

As they walked through the gleaming corridors of the ship, Shepard marveled at the advanced technology that surrounded her. The Normandy SR-2 was a marvel of engineering, a testament to Cerberus' vast resources and cutting-edge innovation.

"Impressive," she murmured, running a hand along the sleek bulkhead. "Cerberus certainly doesn't skimp on the upgrades."

Miranda allowed a small smile. "Only the best for our most valuable asset, Commander."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Asset? Is that what I am to Cerberus?"

"You are the key to stopping the Collectors, Shepard. We need you at your best."

They entered the bridge, where the pilot's chair sat Joker, waiting for instructions from the commander. “Holy Crap commander, Finally ready for lift off?, about time we get the show on the road. I’ve been waiting to fly after the alliance grounded me for two years.”

"Welcome aboard, Commander," a familiar voice chimed. It was EDI, the ship's artificial intelligence.

"Now I did not agree to this, Can’t I just shut this thing off commander?" Joker sarcastically said. "There’s a mute Joker, find use of it, if you have to" Shepard gave him a snarky reply.

Shepard felt a rush of nostalgia mixed with apprehension. The Normandy SR-2 was a new beginning, but it was also a reminder of all she had lost. Her fingers tightened on the Galaxy map as she steeled herself for the challenges ahead.

"Set a course for Omega," she ordered, her voice steady and calm. "We have mercenaries to recruit."

As the ship surged forward, the stars blurring into streaks of light the moment they neered a mass relay, Shepard felt a sense of purpose settle over her like a mantle. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but she would not falter. For the sake of humanity, for the memory of those she had lost, she would fight until her last breath.

The Normandy SR-2 vanished into the void, a silver ghost on a mission of utmost importance. And at its helm stood Commander Shepard, a beacon of hope in a galaxy on the brink of darkness.

Commander Shepard sat in her private quarters, the soft glow of the holographic display casting an eerie blue light across her face. Before her floated the dossiers the Illusive Man had provided, each one detailing a potential recruit for the mission against the Collectors.

Commander Shepard raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her disbelief as she scrolled through the dossiers. "Seriously? Three mercs?" She muttered, shaking her head in exasperation. She scanned through the files of Archangels, Zaeeds, and that questionable Brutus. Hopefully they were more than just hired guns with big egos.

She reached out, her fingers lightly tapping the dossiers screen, and selected the first file. A figure materialized before her, a towering mass of muscle and fur. Brutus, the file read, leader of the notorious mercenary group known as Illang: The Wolf Brigade.

Shepard leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied the grainy image on the screen. Despite the poor quality of the surveillance camera, she could see enough to confirm the reports that had been circulating. "Damn," she muttered to herself, "He really is like the stories from back home." The figure in the corner was barely visible, but it was clear he was a bipedal Wolf, but unlike any she had ever seen before. The creature was clad in specially-made armor that accentuated its K9 appearance, the over all look giving him a formidable and intimidating presence.

The dossier spoke of his group's reputation for ruthlessness, their efficiency in completing even the most dangerous of missions. But it was the rumors surrounding Brutus himself that caught Shepard's attention.

Whispers of genetic experimentation, of a man fused with the DNA of an ancient lupine creature. A werewolf, some called him, a monster straight out of human mythology. She was questioning why he was never rumored to be in his human form, perhaps he couldn’t transform back. Was it permanent? or perhaps a mental blocker?, she didn’t know yet. But she would make sure to ask.

Shepard's brow furrowed as she considered the implications. If the rumors were true, Brutus's combat capabilities would be unlike anything she had encountered before. His strength, speed, and savagery could prove invaluable against the Collectors.

But there was also a risk. An unpredictable element that could just as easily turn against her and her team. Shepard knew she would need to tread carefully, to find a way to harness Brutus's power without falling victim to it.

She swiped to the next page of the dossier, her eyes scanning the details of Brutus's last known location. Omega, the lawless space station that served as a haven for the galaxy's most dangerous criminals.

Situated in the lawless Terminus Systems, Omega orbits around a dim star in an asteroid field teeming with debris. The station itself is built into a gargantuan asteroid split in two by ancient cosmic forces, exposing rich veins of element zero that initially attracted miners and opportunists alike. Its precarious position requires massive mass-effect field generators to deflect incoming asteroids, making it both a fortress and a prison for its inhabitants. Omega's strategic location makes it a nexus for illicit activities, drawing criminals, mercenaries, and those seeking to disappear from galactic authorities.

A wry smile tugged at Shepard's lips. Of course he would be on Omega. Where else would a creature like Brutus feel at home?

She closed the dossier, the hologram fading away. Her decision was made. She would find Brutus, and she would convince him to join her cause. Whatever it took.

Shepard stood, her hand instinctively resting on the butt of her M-3 Predator heavy pistol. The weight was comforting, a reminder of her own strength. She had faced down monsters before, both human and alien. Brutus would be no different.

As she strode towards the door, her mind was already racing, formulating plans and contingencies. She would need her team at their best, ready for anything. Because on Omega, anything could happen.

And Commander Shepard would be ready.

Shepard's boots echoed against the polished metal floor as she made her way to the armory. The familiar scent of gun oil and ozone greeted her as the doors slid open, revealing a well-stocked array of weaponry.

Jacob and Miranda were already there, their heads bowed over a schematic of Omega's twisting corridors. They looked up as Shepard approached, their expressions a mix of determination.

Miranda was the first to speak, her cool, controlled voice betraying none of the tension that Shepard knew lurked beneath the surface. "We've identified a few possible entry points into the district where Brutus is believed to be operating," she announced, tapping a section of the holographic blueprint that hung in the air between them.

Jacob nodded in agreement, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "It won't be easy getting to him unnoticed. Omega's underbelly is a maze, and it's crawling with mercenary groups who won't take kindly to outsiders."

Shepard leaned in, studying the map with a tactical eye. A myriad of interconnected tunnels, warehouses, and seedy establishments sprawled before her. "We'll need to move quickly and quietly if we want to avoid drawing unwanted attention," she said decisively.

"Stealth may not be an option with Brutus's size," Miranda pointed out with a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Perhaps not," Shepard conceded. "But we're not exactly going in unprepared." She glanced around the armory, her gaze settling on an array of weaponry that ran the gamut from discrete pistols to massive assault rifles.

Jacob chuckled dryly. "I don't think 'unprepared' is a word in your vocabulary, Commander."

Shepard nodded, "I wouldn't expect it to be. But we don't have a choice. Brutus is too valuable an asset to pass up."

Jacob arched an eyebrow, his brown eyes glinting in the harsh light of the armory. "You really believe the rumors then? That he's some kind of... werewolf?"

Shepard paused, weighing her words carefully. "I don't know what to believe, The Dossier showed… something" she said at last. "But I do know that Brutus is a skilled fighter and a natural leader. If even half of what they say about him is true, he could be a game-changer for us."

Jacob shifted his weight, his brow furrowed. "And if the other half is true? What then?"

Shepard met his gaze, her expression grim. "Then we deal with it. Whatever it takes."

She turned back to the map, her finger tracing a path through the winding streets of Omega. "We'll need to be smart about this. Brutus is likely to be well-guarded, and we can't afford to draw too much attention to ourselves."

Miranda nodded, her lips pursed in thought. "I’m no expert hacker but, I can hack into Omega's security systems, give us an edge. And Jacob and I’s biotics will come in handy if things get hairy."

Shepard felt a flicker of pride at her team's readiness. They might not trust each other completely, but they were professionals. They would get the job done.

"Gear up," she said, her voice ringing with authority. "I want us ready to move out in thirty minutes. We're going to find Brutus, and we're going to bring him in. No matter what it takes."

As Jacob and Miranda set to work, checking their weapons and armor, Shepard allowed herself a moment to breathe. She knew the stakes were high, that failure was not an option. But she also knew that she had faced worse odds before and come out on top.

She would do it again. For the sake of humanity, and for the sake of her own curiosity. Brutus was out there, waiting. And Commander Shepard would find him.

The Normandy docked at Omega's port, the airlock hissing open to reveal a dimly lit corridor. Shepard stepped out first, her boots clanging against the metal grating. Omega assaults the senses with a cacophony of sounds and a riot of colors. Neon lights flash incessantly, casting eerie glows on the grimy metal structures that stretch out like tentacles from the asteroid's core. The constant hum of machinery and chatter of diverse alien languages being translated to English, thanks to the Omni-tool form an ever-present background noise. Stale air circulates through narrow corridors, tinged with the acrid smell of burnt electronics, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Welcome to Omega," Miranda muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shepard ignored the comment, her eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced intensity. It was so much different from the citadel, She could only sigh and approach down the hallway, It should be mostly safe until they reached the alley’s of it’s underbelly.

“This place is a dump,” she thought, her hand instinctively resting on the pistol at her hip. “But if Brutus is here, we'll find him.”

They made their way through the winding corridors, having passed a popular club called Afterlife a short while ago, the air grows thick with each step. The scent of exotic spices and narcotics mingled with the stench of unwashed bodies, creating a sickly sweet aroma that made Shepard's head spin.

"Stay sharp," she warned, her voice low and urgent. "We don't know what kind of trouble we might run into."

Jacob nodded, his eyes darting from side to side. "I've heard stories about Omega. They say it's a haven for the worst of the worst. Mercenaries, pirates, assassins..."

"And werewolves, apparently," Miranda added, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Shepard shot her a sharp look. "We don't know that for sure. But even if it's true, we can't let it distract us from our mission." Turning to Jacob next she said sarcastically, “I don’t know how to break this to you Jacob… But we are going to be recruiting Mercs, Pirates, and assassins.” She lets out a chuckle.

They turned a corner and found themselves in a bustling marketplace, the stalls crowded with all manner of goods and services. Shepard's eyes were drawn to a particular booth, where a krogan was hawking what appeared to be illegal weapons.

“Maybe he knows something about Brutus,” she mused, taking a step forward.

But before she could approach the krogan, a commotion erupted from the nearby alleyways. Shouts and gunfire echoed off the walls, sending the crowd scattering in all directions.

Shepard's hand flew to her weapon, her heart pounding in her chest. "Move!" she barked, charging towards the source of the disturbance.

As they rounded the corner, they were met with a scene of utter chaos. A group of heavily armed Bluesuns mercenaries were engaged in a fierce firefight with what appeared to be a lone figure, his massive form silhouetted against the flashing neon lights.

Shepard's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the figure's face. It was Brutus, Standing at nearly seven feet tall with an athletic build, his fur is a deep, dark grey that almost appears black under certain lighting. His eyes glow with an eerie yellow hue, mixed with an enchanting violet, giving him a predatory gaze that could unsettle hardened veterans.

His appearance may have surprised some, as it differed from popular depictions. While he was indeed a werewolf, folklore often portrayed him as more human-like with shorter hair and a lean build, and a flat human-like face. But this was no Wolf-man movie; he was far more majestic and exotic. His entire body was coated in fur, but it looked well-groomed and soft rather than unkempt and dirty. His muscles were most prominent in his calves, thighs, chest, arms, and forearms, giving him agility without sacrificing strength. His waist, hips, joints, and neck remained small and slim, This also prevented an overly bulky physique, lending itself towards athleticism instead. He even wore his tail wrapped around his waist like a belt.

His face and head resembled that of a canine, with a long and sharp face that was covered in short fur. His ears perked up but then twitched and flattened back as he reloaded his gun, indicating his heightened stress level. Shepard couldn't help but notice the extra tufts of fur poking out from inside the wolf's ears, but her attention was quickly drawn to two metallic implants she spotted on each side of his head, right behind his ears. The wolf bared his teeth in a fierce snarl as he faced off against the mercenaries. The commander couldn't deny that there was something endearing about this fierce warrior.

He didn’t seem troubled, yet his armor was fascinating, having been able to get a glimpse once he reached for another thermal clip for his M-22 Eviscerator Shotgun. He forewent the traditional leg armor and pants, “Thank the goddess” Shepard thought, copying her old friend Liara’s choice of words, it would have been very awkward if his…Ahem, Member was on showcase. the difference in anatomy between K9s and humans meant he didn't need to wear pants or leg armor. Instead, he chose hybrid pads for his shins and knees, with steel on the front visible from where she sat. The rest of his body was protected by armor on the front and back, leaving his sides exposed with only straps visible. The armor had a v-shaped design, covering his broad chest and tapering down to his slim waist. There was even a small drop plate over his pelvis. She couldn't help but think it looked similar to ancient 21st century armor from old books and records. The metal plates were a gun-metal gray color, while the straps were black. His elbows were also padded, protecting his forearms as well. His gloves were unlike any she had seen before; they completely covered his large hands and glowed yellow from the lights in the room. They even had metal covers over his already sharp claws. Three wires connected the gauntlets to the back of his armor, where a spinning yellow circle was located at the base of his neck. And to complete the look, he wore an advanced poncho cloak that draped around his shoulders and neck, the color black, and dark gray urban camouflage pattern, with a small white wolf emblem stamped onto the left side of his cloak. “Perhaps the illang insignia?” she mused.

"There he is," she breathed, her grip tightening on her gun. "Let's move in, but be careful. We don't want to spook or agitate him!."

They approached cautiously, ducking behind cover as stray bullets whizzed past their heads. Shepard's mind raced with possibilities, trying to calculate the best way to extract Brutus from the chaos.

The air crackled with tension as Brutus unleashed a deafening howl, his gauntlets buzzing and glowing with a menacing noise. Smoke billowed out from the glowing parts of his gloves, adding an eerie atmosphere to the already chaotic battlefield. His metallic claws began to glow with a violet hue, crackling with biotic energy.

"Biotics!?" Shepard questioned, her voice barely audible amidst the din of battle. The answer became clear as a purple barrier sprung to life around Brutus, protecting him from incoming gunfire. The mercenaries stumbled back in terror, their confidence shattered by the sight before them.

"Well, there's your answer, Commander!" Miranda commented sarcastically, her eyes locked on Brutus as he unleashed his biotic might against their enemies.

With a swift lunge forward, Brutus closed the distance between himself and the remaining mercenaries. His claws sliced through flesh and bone with terrifying ease, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. Shepard knew they had to act fast, before the situation escalated beyond their control.

"Brutus!" she shouted over the chaos, her voice cutting through the cacophony. "Stand down! We're here to help you!"

For a brief moment, the werewolf paused mid-strike, his head cocked to the side as if considering her words. But then a stray bullet grazed his shoulder, and he let out another earth-shattering howl, his fury reignited. With renewed determination, he charged towards the remaining mercenaries, his biotic barriers protecting him from their feeble attempts at resistance.

Shepard gritted her teeth, quickly assessing the situation. They needed to neutralize the remaining threats without causing further harm to Brutus or themselves. With a nod of understanding, her team sprang into action, unleashing a coordinated assault on their enemies. Guns blazing and biotic powers flaring, they fought alongside Brutus, protecting him as he unleashed his devastating fury upon the mercenaries.

As the battle raged on, the room filled with the sound of gunfire, explosions, and the desperate cries of the mercenaries. Brutus moved with a lethal precision, his strength and agility on full display. With each swipe of his claws, another enemy fell, their bodies torn apart by his ferocious onslaught.

Shepard couldn't help but marvel at Brutus' raw power and skill. There was something undeniably captivating about this fierce warrior, his presence commanding attention and respect. In the midst of the chaos, she found herself drawn to him, a strange mix of admiration and understanding flooding her thoughts.

But there was no time for introspection. The battle still raged around them, and they needed to finish what they had started. With renewed determination, Shepard rallied her team, their combined efforts overwhelming the remaining mercenaries. Piece by piece, they dismantled their opposition until silence finally descended upon the room.

Brutus stood amidst the wreckage, his breathing heavy and labored. His biotic aura flickered and faded, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Shepard approached him cautiously, her weapon lowered but ready for any sudden movements.

"You did well," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "We make a good team."

Brutus nodded wordlessly, a rare glimpse of satisfaction crossing his face. Together, they had triumphed against impossible odds. And as they surveyed the aftermath of their victory, Shepard couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for what lay ahead.

"Brutus" she stated, her voice cutting through the fading chaos. "I'm Commander Shepard. I'm here to talk to you about a mission that could save countless human lives."

The werewolf snarled, his lips curling back to reveal gleaming fangs. "I don't work for the Alliance," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble. "And I don't take orders from anyone if I can help it."

"I’m not with the alliance technically anymore, I’m forced to team-up with Cerberus on this mission, they’re the only ones doing something about this threat." She watched as he flinched at the mention of Cerberus.

"Cerberus… Why would I work for those disgusting, power hungry, fuckers!?" He let out a guttural growl.

Shepard held her ground, even as Brutus stalked towards her, his claws flexing. "This isn't about Cerberus or orders," she said, her tone calm but firm. "It's about doing what's right. The Collectors are abducting entire human colonies, and we need your help to stop them."

For a moment, Brutus hesitated, a flicker of doubt barely crossing his features. Shepard seized the opportunity, pressing on. "I know about your past, Brutus. I know about the loss of your brigade. This is your chance to make their sacrifice mean something, to honor their memory by fighting for a cause greater than yourself."

Brutus's eyes narrowed, a low growl building in his throat. "You don't know anything about me," he snarled, his voice dripping with menace. "And you don't know what I've lost."

Meeting his stare unwavering, Shepard's eyes blazed with unyielding resolve. "I understand more than you realize," she uttered softly. "I too have suffered losses, cherished individuals who were taken from me. Yet I refused to be paralyzed by grief; instead, I forged ahead to fulfill what was necessary. And so must you."

For a long, tense moment, the two stared each other down, the air crackling with tension. Then, slowly, Brutus straightened, his posture shifting from aggressive to wary.

"You've got guts, Shepard," he rumbled, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. "I'll give you that. But what makes you think I'd want to join your little suicide squad?"

Shepard holstered her rifle, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Because deep down, beneath the tough, reliable exterior, beneath all that anger and pain, I think you still believe in something. And I think you know that this fight is bigger than just you or me."

Brutus was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. Then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Alright, Shepard. I'm in. But don't think for a second that this makes me respect your little friends. Also, I take orders from you, not Cerberus, and not her." He nodded in Miranda’s direction

"As Shepard’s XO, I have full authority to give orde-" She was caught mid sentenced as Brutus just threw her a bird, chuckling to himself.

Shepard chuckled, the tension draining from her body. "Wouldn't dream of it, Brutus. Welcome to the team."

As the two shook hands, a fragile alliance forged in the heart of Omega's chaos, Shepard couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. With Brutus on their side, maybe, just maybe, The recruitment of everybody else would go just as easy.

Shepard and Brutus stood side by side, their silhouettes stark against the chaotic backdrop of Omega. The neon lights cast an eerie glow on their faces, highlighting the determination etched in their features. Around them, the station pulsed with life, oblivious to the momentous alliance that had just been forged.

"We'll need to move fast," Shepard said, her eyes scanning the crowds for any signs of trouble. "The Collectors won't wait for us to make the first move, We’ll need more promising recruits for this mission."

Brutus nodded, his muscles tensing beneath his fur. "Affirmative Commander, Let’s get the show on the road."

Shepard turned on her heel, proceeding from whence they came. Touching her ear piece "EDI, We have the newest member. Point us toward the next recruits locations"

EDI chimed into the communications pieces, everyone, including Brutus after tuning his Omni-Tool frequency to the right channel. "Commander, the credit transfer to the mercenary known as Zaeed Massani have gone through, He will be waiting at the port once you return. Locations about Archangel and the Salarian Mordin Solus are currently unknown, but somebody going by Aria T’Loak may be able to point you in the right direction" Her robotic voice stated,

"Where do we find this Aria? This station is big." Jacob said while looking between everybody.

"Ughh~ Mother- I know where she is, anybody on Omega knows where she resides…" Brutus looked tired, "We’re heading to Afterlife…".

Chapter Text

As Brutus followed Shepard and her squad back to the Normandy, his heart grew heavy with grief and guilt. Memories of the Illang, his wolf brigade, his family, flooded his mind. He saw their faces, heard their quips in the heat of battle, felt the camaraderie that had bound them together through countless firefights. All gone now, sacrificed in the name of their cause.

He could still hear their laughter echoing in his head, feel their presence beside him on the battlefield. But now he was alone, carrying on their legacy while the pain of their absence weighed heavily on his heart.

Brutus's steps faltered, his massive frame sagging under the weight of his sorrow. Shepard glanced back, her sharp emerald eyes softening with understanding. She fell into step beside him and laid a gentle hand on his battle-scarred arm.

"I know it hurts," she said quietly. "But dwelling on the past won't bring them back. The best way to honor their memory is to keep fighting, to carry on their legacy. They're with you, Brutus, in every shot you fire, every enemy you take down. Don't let their sacrifice be in vain. But if you don’t mind me asking… How long has it been?"

Shepard's words offered some solace, but also stirred up conflicting emotions within Brutus. He knew she was right, dwelling on the past wouldn't bring them back. But how could he not think about it when everything around him reminded him of what he had lost?

And yet, as she asked about the time that had passed since their deaths, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of determination ignite within him. Four years had gone by and he still hadn't found the person responsible for betraying them all. Despite his grief, he couldn't let go of that burning need for justice.

Her words sparked a flicker of determination in Brutus's otherwise bleak gaze. She was right. He had to stay focused on the mission ahead, had to make their deaths mean something. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and gave Shepard a curt nod. "four years… Four goddamn years and I’m not any closer to the bastard that set us up!… But Thanks, for pulling me back, I mean."

Just then, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the docking bay. Zaeed Massani, grizzled and battle-worn, his armor as scarred as his weathered face. A seasoned mercenary, his reputation was as fearsome as Brutus's own.

"Well, well, if it isn't the big bad wolf himself," Zaeed drawled, a hint of mockery in his gravelly voice. His eyes, though, held a glimmer of something else, secrets, perhaps, or hidden agendas.

Brutus tensed, old instincts kicking in. He and Zaeed had a history, and not all of it friendly. Their first meeting had been on opposite sides of a brutal war in the Krogan DMZ, hired guns for rival factions. They had clashed viciously, each recognizing the other as a formidable adversary. But fate had intervened, throwing them together against a common foe.

Through blood and sweat and sheer force of will, they had forged an unlikely alliance, their individual strengths meshing into a lethal whole. Together they had torn through enemy lines, watching each other's backs, saving each other's lives more times than either could count. Somewhere along the way, respect had bloomed, even an odd sort of friendship. But there would be time for reminiscing at a later date.

"Zaeed," Brutus rumbled, inclining his head in a wary greeting. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I go where the credits are, mate," Zaeed said with a shrug. Then his tone turned serious. "Heard about your Illang. Bloody shame, that. They were good soldiers."

Brutus could only manage a muted grunt, the ache in his chest stifling any words that sought release. Yet within that shared silence, Zaeed's understanding stood as a beacon amidst the shadows of grief and remembrance. Both men, warriors scarred by loss, found solace in each other's unspoken pain.

The air hung heavy between them, thick with sorrow and the lingering presence of those no longer amongst the living. It was in this solemn moment that Zaeed broke through the melancholy, offering a faint smile tinged with nostalgia. "Do you recall our venture on Zorgax IV? Amongst the chaos of Vorcha and the thrill of reclaiming that stolen missile launcher?"

Despite himself, Brutus barked out a laugh. "You mean when you nearly blew us both to hell trying to 'improvise'?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it? One less merc outpost cluttering up the system. Plus the payroll should more than cover your repair bills."

As they swapped 'war stories,' Shepard watched them with a mixture of amusement and amazement. The easy back and forth, the gruff affection beneath the jibes and the attempt to one-up each other, these two were more than mere brothers-in-arms. They had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer and come out the other side, forging a brotherhood only those with extensive experience with death could understand.

Whatever else he might be, Zaeed was a welcome sight. His presence seemed to steady Brutus, reminded him that he still had comrades who understood, who would fight beside him no matter what horrors they face, That he may not be alone as he thinks.

Together, this unlikely band of heroes stood, ready to take on whatever threats awaited them among the stars. The specter of loss still clung to Brutus like a shroud, but for now, in the company of friends both old and new, the burden felt a little less heavy. He would carry on, for the Illang, for the mission, and for himself.

Before boarding the Normandy to situate himself, Zaeed's rough exterior softened slightly as he met Shepard's gaze, his eyes betraying a sense of guarded respect. Shepard, recognizing his formidable reputation and value to their mission, reciprocated with a nod of acknowledgment. The exchange was marked by an unspoken understanding between two individuals who had seen the darkest corners of the galaxy.

"One more thing, Shepard," Zaeed said, his voice lowering to a gravelly whisper. "Word is Aria's taken an interest in your new friend here." He jerked his chin toward Brutus. "And trust me, that's not usually a good thing."

Shepard felt a shiver run down her spine at the mention of Aria T'Loak, the notorious ruler of Omega. Known for her ruthless nature and insatiable hunger to remain in power, Aria's curiosity was usually never a harbinger of anything good. The thought of her setting her sights on Brutus, her newest recruit and friend filled Shepard with a sense of unease.

Shepard couldn't help but wonder what Aria could possibly want from him. Her mind raced with potential reasons, each one more concerning than the last. She feared that the asari's actions would complicate their mission even further, potentially entangling them in a web of dangerous political games and making their already perilous task even more challenging.

"Can’t we just disagree with this Aria chick demands? I mean, We can handle ourselves right?" Jacob spoke for the first time in awhile.

"You see Jacob~ This is exactly why you let me handle the diplomatic situations. Your much better at handling your shotgun, than you are at handling deals and contracts" Miranda’s sarcastic tone filled the area, as she shook her head, trying to rid the migraine coming on.

Brutus, for his part, seemed unperturbed by the revelation. He met Zaeed's warning with a stoic nod, his expression unreadable. "Aria's interest is her own affair," he rumbled. "Our focus must remain on the task at hand."

Though she admired his unwavering dedication, Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a vipers' nest. They took their leave, letting Zaeed go to get settled aboard the Normandy. They still had two more recruits to find. The weight of this realization hung heavily in the air as they approached Afterlife, the pulsing heart of Omega's lawless domain.

As the doors slid open, Shepard and their companions were hit with a sensory overload. The club was alive with pulsating neon lights, casting vivid hues across the sleek walls. The air itself seemed to throb with the relentless beat of music, the bass so deep it reverberated through Shepard's entire body. Intoxicating scents swirled around them, a heady mix of spiced perfumes, potent liquors, and the unmistakable musk of desperation, and shame.

Leading the way was Brutus, his confident stride displaying a familiarity with Omega's treacherous underbelly. He weaved through the chaotic crowd with ease, exchanging nods and subtle signals with shadowed figures whose faces hinted at shared histories of battles fought in this very club.

Shepard, Jacob, and Miranda trailed behind, their senses heightened as they followed Brutus through undulating waves of color and shadow. With steely gazes fixed forward, they ascended a winding path towards a guarded balcony perched high above Afterlife, the beating heart of Omega's seedy nightlife.

"Aria's rule is absolute here," Brutus leaned in close, his low baritone voice barely audible above the cacophony of noise. The intoxicating aroma of stiff liquor and the musk of primal desire hung heavy in Aria's sanctuary, an unapologetic testament to nights filled with seduction. His eyes wandered across the scattered signs of her influence, a tantalizing trio of Asari vixens, their bodies twisting and undulating seductively on a lit stage. The dancers' naked bodies glistened under the lurid lights. Languidly they moved, their hips swaying with hypnotic rhythm while their ample breasts bounced to the primal beat. Each sultry move was designed to tease and tantalize the audience into submission. They were not just dancing - they were weaving a seductive spell under Aria's watchful gaze. A massive Krogan bouncer stationed near the entrance, his crimson armor emblazoned with Aria's symbol; Disguised as a rowdy drunk, yet the liquor in his glass was non-alcoholic. The hushed conversations that abruptly ceased as they approached, fading into the alluring depths of the club. Here, Aria's rule was absolute and her power palpable.

As they ascended to the upper balcony, a palpable tension hung in the air. Aria T'Loak, the undisputed ruler of Omega, reclined on a plush couch, her posture one of casual authority. She was flanked by her guards, their weapons held at the ready.

Shepard stepped forward, her gaze meeting Aria's unflinchingly. "Aria T'Loak, I presume?"

The Asari's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Commander Shepard. Your reputation precedes you." Her gaze flicked to Brutus, a flicker of recognition passing over her features. "And you've brought an old friend, I see."

Before Shepard could respond, one of Aria's Batarian guards stepped forward, his hand reaching for his weapon. "Surrender your firearms. No one meets with Aria armed."

Tension crackled in the air as Shepard's team exchanged glances, their hands instinctively moving towards their own weapons. But Aria held up a hand, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Stand down. They can keep their weapons. It makes no difference." She fixed Shepard with a piercing stare. "You're on my station, Commander. Your weapons mean nothing here. I. Am. Omega."

The Batarian reluctantly stepped back, his posture still tense. Aria's attention returned to Shepard, her expression one of cool appraisal.

"Now, what brings you to my domain? I doubt it's for the drinks or the dancers."

Shepard met her gaze steadily. "We're looking for Archangel. Word is, he's causing quite a stir on Omega."

Aria laughed, the sound cold and mirthless. "That's an understatement. Archangel's little crusade has put him at the top of every merc group's hit list. He botched a hit on a Blood Pack leader, and now they're out for blood. His blood."

She leaned forward, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "But I suspect you're not here to collect the bounty. You want to recruit him."

Shepard nodded, her expression guarded. "Can you help us find him?"

Aria sat back, her fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. "I could. But why should I? What's in it for me?"

As Shepard and Aria negotiated, Brutus felt the Asari's gaze settle on him once more. There was a calculating look in her eyes, a sense of appraisal that made his hackles rise.

"Brutus, wasn't it? The leader of the infamous Wolf Brigade." Aria's voice was silky smooth, but there was an undercurrent of danger beneath the surface. "I was quite impressed with your work. It's a shame about what happened to your team."

Brutus felt a growl building in his throat, but he forced it down. "What do you want, Aria?"

The Asari's smile widened. "Straight to the point. I like that." She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his Yellow-violet ones. "I want you, Brutus. Your skills, your reputation, your body, your power. I think you'd make a valuable addition to my organization."

Shepard's head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. "Brutus is with me, Aria. He's not for sale."

Aria's laughter filled the room, rich and throaty. "Oh, Commander. Everything on Omega has a price. Even loyalty." Her gaze never left Brutus's face. "Think about it, Brutus. The offer stands."

As Aria locked eyes with him from across the room, a magnetic pull tugged at both ends. Each drawn to the other with an irresistible force. Aria's predatory gaze feasted on his tempting form, every inch of him a deliciously sinful banquet. Her eyes roamed over his body, tracing the contours of his muscular frame as if she could devour him with her gaze alone. She was a lethal combination of beauty and madness, the embodiment of danger and desire. His own eyes drank in her curves, lingering on the swell of her breasts barely concealed by the tight fabric of her combat suit.

The suit teased with flashes of her exotic purple skin, glimpses offered in all the right spots to stoke his burning desire. The dimmed lights cast a seductive glow on her long, shapely legs, almost beckoning to be touched. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards her, a fusion of his primal instincts and raw sexuality.

“So that was her play? She wanted the price of my soul essentially” Brutus mused, before letting out a throaty chuckle, his sharp teeth on display as stalked forward, mere inches away from her face. He finally spoke "Interesting proposal Aria~ maybe if you were one day earlier, you might’ve had a pretty good chance. But as of right now, my loyalty lies with Shepard, but maybe if i survive, and you tone down your craziness just a tiny amount. You’ll be just enough my type, that I’ll come back and demonstrate my unique set of skills~" with a wink, he started Walking back to Shepard.

Aria was silent for a minute, before she also started to chuckle, before bursting out laughing, holding her sides. Her body shaking as the emotion spilled from her body. The sight almost made her guards falter, Aria was seen genuinely laughing. That was officially more rare than a reaper sighting. "What a shame~ Now I’m starting to regret my decision on waiting~ Alright Brutus, I’ll take your words in to consideration, and see if I can tone down my ‘crazy’ in time for your return. Well played Shepard~."

With that, she waved a hand dismissively. "As for Archangel, you'll find him in the Kima District. He's holed up in an abandoned apartment complex. But you'd better hurry. The merc groups are closing in, and they're out for blood."

Shepard nodded, her expression grim. "Understood. We'll handle it from here. Sounds like we don’t have much time"

"You have all the time in the world, Archangel?… not so much" Aria said nonchalantly.

As they turned to leave, Brutus could feel Aria's eyes on his back, the weight of her gaze heavy and assessing. “What game are you playing, Aria?” he wondered silently. “And what role do you want me to play in it?”

But those were questions for another time. For now, they had a vigilante to rescue and a mission to complete. Everything else would have to wait.

Once outside Aria's sanctum, Shepard wasted no time in filling her crew in on the intel they'd gathered. "Archangel's holed up in the Kima district, and every merc group on Omega is gunning for him. Our best bet is to pose as freelancers and work our way to his location."

Jacob frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "Sounds like a risky play, Shepard. We'll be walking into the lion's den."

"It's the only way," Miranda countered, her cool, analytical tone brooking no argument. "If we try to reach him directly, we'll be cut down before we even get close."

Shepard nodded, her decision made. "We'll have to be smart about this. Stay alert, watch each other's backs, and be ready to improvise if things go sideways."

As they made their way through the pulsing throng of Afterlife, Brutus fell into step beside Shepard, his presence a reassuring bulwark against the chaos swirling around them. "I meant what I said to Aria," he rumbled, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "I'm with you, Shepard. No matter what happens."

Shepard met his gaze, a flicker of warmth kindling in her chest. In a world where loyalty was a rare and precious commodity, Brutus's unwavering support was a gift beyond measure.

Together, they stepped towards the lower area of Afterlife. A Blue-Suns Merc stood a the entrance, "Is this sign-up for the Archangel operation?" Shepard questioned.

"Huh? Oh yes, step inside" The Batarian pointed down a small set of stairs.

The door at the bottom of the stairs slid open, revealing a young freelancer waiting on the other side. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, and Shepard knew she’d hesitate to kill him without first giving a warning. "Hey kid, this work isn't for the faint of heart. Maybe you should sit this one out," she said.

But the kid was determined, showing off his brand new M-4 Shuriken machine pistol. "I can handle myself, lady. Plus, I just dropped fifty credits on this bad boy and I want to test it out. I know how to use a gun."

Jacob chimed in with a sarcastic quip. "So does Archangel."

Shepard walked towards the recruit and grabbed his weapon, expertly checking it over before smacking it a few times with her metal glove. "You should get your money back, kid."

Meanwhile, in the dark corner of the room, Brutus observed the interaction while keeping his hood up and cloak pulled tight around him. As Shepard approached the Blue Suns recruiter at the desk, The Batarian looked up, meeting her gaze, "You lot look like you could do some damage, looking for a good fight?" he asked in a gruff voice.

Miranda chimed in with a sarcastic response. "Obviously, if this is where we come to find Archangel that is." her hip jutting out as she puts most of her weight on one foot.

The Batarian's eyes narrowed slightly before continuing. "This is the place. Standard fee is 500 credits per person and you only get paid when the job is done. If you die, your friends don't collect your share. You'll need to bring your own weapons and armor – looks like you've got that covered." He paused before adding, "And no, joining this mission does not make you members of Blue Suns, Eclipse or Blood Pack. You are still freelanc-."

But before he could finish, Brutus stepped forward and interrupted him, finally making his presence known to the recruiter, his hulking figure stepping out from the shadow and throwing his hood backwards, revealing his unique 1 of a kind K9 features to the Batarian. "They know, they’re with me. Sign them up in your system as ‘honorary’ members of my Wolf Brigade"

The Blue-Suns member flinched upon seeing who it was, His hands typed fast, the clicking echoing throughout the small storage room. The Blue Suns recruiter quickly logged the team in as honorary members and informed them of their new status. "I see...well, it looks like you won't be freelancers for this operation anymore. Good luck to you."

Shepard spoke up, her tone serious. "One final question. How do we get to Archangel and what's the plan of attack?"

The Batarian motioned towards the door behind them. "Outside of Afterlife, take a right. There should be a Blue-Suns member with a Sky Car waiting for new recruits. It'll take you straight to the Kima district. As for the plan of attack, you'll have to speak with Sgt. Cathka and the other Merc leaders." He gestured for Shepard and her team to leave before giving one last nervous glance at Brutus. As they left the storage room, Shepard couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle in her stomach. The mission ahead was going to be dangerous, but she trusted in her team and knew they were ready for whatever came their way.

Brutus gave a curt nod, his canine features set in a grim expression. He turned to Shepard and Miranda, his voice low and steady. "We follow the plan, stay sharp, and watch each other's backs." The team shared a determined look before heading towards the door, the weight of the upcoming mission heavy on their shoulders.

The Normandy crew approached the bustling Meet-up center in the Kima district, a cacophony of guttural krogan voices and high-pitched vorcha chatter assaulting their ears. Shepard's keen eyes scanned the motley assortment of mercenaries, assessing potential threats and weaknesses.

The rooms were a dizzying array of different species and colors, their various weapons glinting in the dim lighting. Large, bulky Blood pack krogan stood out amongst smaller, leaner human, batarian, Salarian and asari mercenaries. From Blue-Suns, and Eclipse respectively. Vorcha with their snarling faces and razor-sharp claws and teeth, everyones faces were set in fierce scowls or sneering grins as they roamed about the rooms.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and unwashed bodies, mixed with the distinct scent of rancid alcohol and cheap narcotics. The smell of cooked meat wafted from makeshift food stations that were hastily set up, competing with the overpowering aroma of exhaust fumes from the A-61 Mantis Gunship, that was riddled with rounds from a previous gunfight with Archangel.

The din of the crowd was almost deafening, a chaotic mix of low growls, aggressive shouting, and the high-pitched squeals of vorcha were echoing through-out various rooms, clearly the different mercs couldn’t stand each other. Above it all, the "pop-bang" of gunfire could be heard intermittently.

Shepard's voice was barely audible as she reminded her team, "Okay guys, just remember we're honorary members of the Wolf Brigade now. That means following Brutus's every command until we can make our move."

Brutus flashed a toothy grin, playfully nudging Miranda's shoulder. "And that includes you, princess~"

Miranda couldn't help but roll her eyes and let out a sigh of exasperation. "Oh joy, pretending to take orders from this furry bastard while he refuses to acknowledge me as his XO."

Brutus laughed at her misery, with Jacob joining in on the fun. "Come on, Miranda, just roll with it for now. You can file a complaint with HR later." Brutus winked at her mischievously, knowing there technically was no HR within Cerberus. "But for now, watch and learn. Things are about to get interesting around here."

Every footstep Brutus takes seems to echo in the room, even though there was no footwear on his furry feet. It was drawing attention from even the most preoccupied mercenaries. The sound of the crowded room is temporarily muted as all eyes turn to him. Whispers and hushed conversations can be heard as the mercenaries wonder about this new figure who has entered their midst.

Brutus strides confidently, his tall and muscular figure towered over the other mercenaries, except for the Krogan. His dark cloak billows behind him like a flag, with a distinct insignia shining in the light. As the mercenary crowd parts to make way for him, his wolf-like features are met with a mix of fear, admiration, and curiosity. Some eye him warily while others openly gawk at his imposing figure. A ripple of recognition spreads through the crowd as they take in his distinctive appearance, with some whispering and pointing in his direction.

"Well, well," a grizzled krogan from the Blood Pack growled, "if it isn't the 'Wolf of the Wards' himself. Heard you're quite the fighter, hope your newest members aren’t all show either."

Brutus met the krogan's gaze unflinchingly. "You heard right. And my brigade is ready for action, If your looking for a fight. I’ll be more than ready to, after Archangel is dealt with." Brutus was brimming with confidence, this crowd was right where Brutus thrived.

Some Eclipse mercenaries locked eyes in a silent game of intellect, their asari features honed and probing. "Your reputation precedes you," a voluptuous asari cooed, her biotics pulsating seductively around her slender fingers. She was tantalizingly playful, and very well endowed in the chest, and hip regions of her body, still relishing in her Maiden phase of life. "The Eclipse could surely benefit from someone with your... expertise," she propositioned, her tongue tracing the rim of her cerulean lips enticingly. "I'm prepared to offer some very persuasive recruitment incentives. Trust me, it’ll be an offer you can't ignore."

Brutus responded with a husky chuckle that sounded like dark velvet and molasses to the ears, his gaze mischievously sliding to Shepard’s stunned speechless expression, before meeting Jacob and Miranda’s comically raised eyebrows. "I’m fully aware of the tempting treat you're peddling, sweetheart, and maybe if I was desperate and solitary, we could...mingle more intimately~ but my presence here is strictly business." Brutus shrugged helplessly, his wolfish, magnetic charm impossible to restrain. Brutus was infamous among his old Wolf brigade for his roguish flirtations, no amount of experimentation could curb his amorous flair.

Shepard interjected with a practiced smoothness, her voice dripping with a hint of forced confidence and a touch of envy as she couldn’t help but feel slightly envious towards the asari’s endowed proportions. "We've come for the Archangel assignment. Show us the way, and we'll get this charade over with."

As the mercenary leaders outlined their plan, Shepard's mind raced, analyzing every detail for potential openings. The room was tense with anticipation, each leader vying for dominance and trying to prove their worth to the infamous Archangel. Her eyes darted between them, calculating and assessing their strengths and weaknesses. her mind raced with thoughts and possible scenarios. Every detail of the plan was analyzed, every potential opening searched for.

The freelancers would serve as cannon fodder, a mere distraction to draw Archangel's fire. Eclipse's mechs and biotics would wear down his defenses, softening him up for the heavy hitters. And when the moment was right, the combined forces of the Blood Pack and Blue Suns would swoop in for the kill.

“It's a solid plan,” Shepard mused silently, “but they're underestimating Archangel. And that's going to be their downfall. Plus, they don’t know he will be having back-up soon enough.” Her mind was already devising alternate strategies, ready to adapt at a moment's notice.

Aloud, Brutus said, "The Wolf Brigade will take point with the freelancers. We'll give Archangel a fight he won't soon forget."

Shepard nodded confidently, her piercing gaze meeting Brutus' unwavering, acting the part as his subordinate. "Just give the word, Brutus. We'll be ready." She could practically taste the excitement in the air, knowing that this battle would be one to remember.

As they filed out of the recruitment center, weapons at the ready, Shepard's gaze locked with Archangel's across the bridge. Though his face was obscured by his helmet, she could feel the weight of his stare, the unspoken question hanging between them.

"Stay strong, Archangel," she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the rifle. The Normandy crew sprung into action, swiftly and determinedly making their way towards their newest member. They weren't going to let him down. Humanity needed the best for the collectors, and she’d be damned if a few mercs would stop her from completing her mission.

The air crackled with tension as Shepard and her team surged forward, weapons blazing. Brutus led the charge, his massive form dominating the chaos. Gunfire erupted around them, punctuated by shouts and war cries. The sound of bullets whizzing past filled the room.

Shepard ducked and weaved, her movements fluid and precise, instinct guiding her every action. She fired off rounds with deadly accuracy, each shot finding its mark. The scent of burning metal and deceased bodies mingled in the air as weapons discharged.

Brutus roared with ferocity as he clashed with freelancer mercs, his fists a blur of motion. The sharp clang of metal meeting metal resounded as he engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Miranda's biotics crackled and hummed, a powerful warp sweeping through their enemies.

Amidst the chaos, Jacob's voice cut through the din, barking out orders and warnings. "Watch your six! Incoming hostiles on the left!" His words were a steady anchor in the whirlwind of battle.

Miranda's biotic shield crackled to life, deflecting incoming fire as she fired back with deadly accuracy. Jacob's shotgun spat out pellets, keeping their enemies pinned down, while Shepard's M-8 Avenger rifle picked off targets with calculated efficiency.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of Blood and sweat, the cacophony of gunfire deafening in the confined space. The clang of thermal clips being discharged, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, every sound added to the intensity of battle.

The fight raged on, a symphony of violence and determination. Every move calculated, every strike deadly. The room blurred with motion as the Normandy crew fought as one cohesive unit, a well-oiled machine honed for war.

“Almost there,” Shepard thought, her heart pounding in her chest. “Just a little further...”

And then, suddenly, the shooting stopped. A lone figure rose from behind the 2nd floor barricade, sniper rifle held loosely at his side.

Garrus's voice trembled with disbelief as he uttered, "Shepard?" His mandibles flared in astonishment under his helmet, quickly removing it to reveal his handsome turian features, unseen to the world for weeks. "Is that really you? I thought you were dead!" Emotion overwhelmed him, thick in his throat and heavy in the air.

With a wide grin, Shepard removed her helmet, her eyes shining with joy. "In the flesh, Vakarian. Thought you could use a hand. We’ll catch up after we survive this mess!" Her words carried a mix of relief and determination.

As Brutus took up a defensive position, Shepard and Garrus fell into easy conversation, the years melting away as they shared stories and laughter, Shepard couldn't ignore the weight on Garrus's shoulders. The years had etched lines of hardship on his face, a silent plea for understanding hidden behind his gaze.

"What happened to you, Garrus?" she whispered gently, sensing the depth of his struggles. Her empathy reached out to him, offering solace in her presence. “What burdens are you carrying?” she pondered silently, her heart swelling with compassion.

Garrus let out a hollow chuckle, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I won’t sugarcoat it, Shepard. These past years have been brutal for all of us from your old crew. After you were spaced and presumed gone... well, things changed drastically, the alliance navy threw me and everybody else to the wolves- No offense" he confessed, glancing at Brutus with a mix of resignation and respect.

"None taken," Brutus replied stoically, ever vigilant for threats lurking nearby.

Garrus continued, his voice tinged with conflict and loyalty. "Everyone has their own path now, their own battles to fight. I'm here with you for another mission, but there are matters I must settle first. When the time is right, I'll let you know. And about Cerberus... I never expected to see you working with them."

"Don’t remind me Garrus… I’ll shorten it for you, Human colonies are disappearing mysteriously and the only ones willing to investigate and do something about this is Cerberus. It also helps that they spent fortunes bringing me back to life, I guess you could say i owe a favor of sorts." She leaned in slightly in order for her words only to reach Garrus’s ears, but do to Brutus having enhanced hearing, he also heard her. "I could really use you by my side Garrus, I can’t trust Cerberus fully, and it would ease my heart to have a trusted friend backing me. Like I told Brutus before, you won’t be working for Cerberus, You’ll be working with me, you in?."

"Seriously, can't we ever just go grab a drink or take a leisurely stroll through the park? No, it's always 'save the universe, Shepard'. But hey, count me in as usual." Garrus flashed her a grin.

Shepard’s face split into a wide, beaming smile. "I knew I could count on you old buddy!"

"All right, Vakarian," Shepard said briskly, her mind already racing ahead to the challenges to come. "Lay it out for us. What do we need to do to get you out of here in one piece?"

As Garrus began to outline his plan, Shepard felt a flicker of hope kindle in her chest. They were outgunned and outnumbered, facing impossible odds. But they were together again, side by side, ready to take on the galaxy.

And in that moment, Shepard knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it as one. As a team. As friends.

The Eclipse mercenaries swarmed the building, their mechs leading the charge in a relentless assault. Gunfire erupted, filling the air with a deafening cacophony as Shepard, Garrus, and Jacob returned fire with precision and deadly efficiency.

Brutus, ever the ferocious beast, lunged forward, his biotics flaring as he slammed into a group of Salarians with a biotic empowered charge. The force of his impact sent them flying like ragdolls while his claws, sheathed in violet energy, tore through their armor as if it were paper.

Shepard and Garrus moved in perfect synchronization, their movements fluid and instinctive. Shepard activated her Adrenaline Rush tech skill, causing time to slow around her. With her perception heightened, her shots became inhumanly accurate, each bullet finding its mark with surgical precision.

Garrus unleashed a concussive blast from his M-93 Mantis sniper rifle, sending an explosive shockwave that decimated two mechs in its path. His grin widened as he watched the carnage unfold, relishing the opportunity to fight alongside Shepard once again.

The Eclipse co-leader, the ruthless Asari commando from earlier was surrounded by a shimmering barrier, she strode onto the battlefield. Her armored plates gleamed under the harsh lighting, a hulking image of biotic shielding and firepower.

Shepard's mind raced as she formulated a plan to overcome the formidable barrier. Brutus let out a low growl as if sensing her thoughts. "I'll handle the horny Asari from earlier, Shepard," he bellowed. "You and Garrus focus on taking down the leader."

Shepard hesitated for a moment, torn between her desire to protect Brutus and her trust in his abilities. But as she met his eerie glowing eyes, she saw the determination burning within them. She nodded, understanding passing between them without the need for words. "Give 'em hell, Brutus," she said, her voice filled with confidence.

As Brutus charged towards the Asari, drawing her fire, Shepard and Garrus focused their attention on the Eclipse leader, a salarian named Jaroth. He was accompanied by a Battle YMIR heavy mech, towering menacingly over them.

Biotics and bullets flew as they engaged in a deadly dance, weaving and dodging amidst the chaos. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, Shepard's squad slowly gained the upper hand.

Garrus's sniper rifle sang a lethal melody, each shot finding its mark with surgical precision. The nimble Eclipse troopers fell one by one, their bodies hitting the ground in lifeless heaps.

Shepard's bullets tore through the enemy ranks, leaving behind a trail of broken bodies in her wake. The power within her surged through her veins, empowering her every move.

Having activated Adrenaline rush again, she poured every round of her thermal clip into the Heavy mechs head, eventually her inhuman accuracy caused the mechs head to pop. An alarm started to sound, as the mech started to glow.

Meanwhile, In the midst of chaos, Brutus engaged in a brutal battle with the Asari. Their skills seemed evenly matched as they traded blow for blow, each strike leaving behind a trail of destruction. But Brutus saw an opportunity when he noticed the Heavy mech's body about to explode.

"You know~ You didn’t even tell me your name when you were hitting on me earlier~" With a snarl on his lips and fire in his eyes, Brutus continued swinging his gauntlets at the Asari, His gauntlets met her heavy biotic barrier, but he could feel it weakening under his strength.

The Commando fired her M-3 predator pistol, but each shot only bounced off of Brutus's thick metal armor. She grew frustrated as she aimed for his unprotected legs, but he was dodging and weaving with ease. He was just too Goddamn fast!, "My name!? Don’t see why I should tell a corpse that now!, But it’s Kor-"

As Brutus disrupted her stance with another calculated swipe, his violet claws clashed with her protective barrier. There was a raw intensity in the way their powers collided, biotic energy fusing together, each cancelling out the other in a firework show of sparks. An almost teasing smirk curled at his lips as he declared, "You're right, don’t even bother with names~"

Intertwined in this voracious combat, Brutus found his gaze drawn irresistibly to the Asari's full-bodied allure. Her curves screamed of divine femininity and spoke to his primal instincts. He couldn't help but pine for her, his eyes consuming the tantalizing spectacle of her busty form, seductively wrapped in a tight eclipse body-suit armor that left little to the imagination.

"Holy hell," he drawled out, an air of comedic rue coloring his tone. "Now that I've got a proper eyeful of you, ain't it a damn shame I didn't get to spend that night tangled up in your sheets. What a fucking loss~" His words dripped with regret and desire, painting a vivid picture of the tantalizing 'what if'. The dance of their fight continued; But like all good things, they must come to an end. "Sorry, love. But this ends now. It’s been fun"

Suddenly he grew serious, his hulking 7 foot tall body hunching over on all fours. And with a burst of energy, he broke through the Asari's shield one last time before using a well placed biotic pull to throw her body directly into the path of the impending heavy mech explosion. The resulting blast engulfed both the Asari, Jaroth, and the Heavy mech, taking care of the remaining Eclipse troops in a single devastating strike.

As the dust settled and silence descended upon the battlefield, Shepard felt a flicker of hope ignite within her chest. They had faced impossible odds and emerged triumphant once again. The bond between Shepard and her team had grown stronger with each battle fought side by side.

“We might just make it out of here”, Shepard thought, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

"What do you think Garrus? Should we try and spearhead our way outta here?" Shepard asked Garrus, besides Brutus. Garrus had the most experience with the Omega mercenaries.

Garrus took a look through his scope, growing concerned over the lack of troops. "I don’t know, Jaroth was a big player in the operation, but he was far from the most experienced. I’d feel a lot better if we eliminated at least either the Blue-suns, or the blood pack. But I don’t see what their waiting on…"

An explosion rocked the apartment structure, clearly made from the lower levels of the Kima district ward.

"What the hell was that?" Miranda inclined, having stumbled right into Brutus, as he grunted and stabilized her.

Garrus read the info feeding from his Omni-tool, growing visibly frustrated, "Dammit, He breached the lower levels. They were bound to use their heads eventually. You better get down their Shepard, I’ll keep the bridge clear from here."

Shepard's worry intensified, her gaze desperate as she turned to Brutus. "Let us part ways, Brutus! Make sure Garrus is safe by your side, please... This is crucial," she declared firmly.

"Commander, your orders are crystal clear," Brutus affirmed with a reassuring grin.

"Alright Shepard, Use the stairs to go down a level, the basement entrance is in the main room, behind the staircase on the west side. Good luck" Garrus quickly directed, urgency lacing his words.

As Shepard sprinted towards the basement entrance, her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and determination coursing through her veins. She knew she was leaving Brutus and Garrus in a precarious position, but she had no choice. If they couldn't stop the Blood Pack's advance, none of them would make it out alive.

“Please”, she prayed silently, to whatever gods might be listening. “Keep them safe. Let me not be too late.”

With a final glance over her shoulder, Shepard steeled herself for the battle to come, knowing that the fate of her friends hung in the balance. As she raced off to close the entrances laid below.

The building quaked as Garm's heavy footsteps drew near, with his personal guard trailing behind. Brutus braced himself, prepared for the impending showdown. Over the comm, Garrus's voice crackled, "I've got your back, Brutus. Let's give these bastards a taste of their own medicine."

Brutus nodded, a grim smile forming on his lips. He turned to face the oncoming Krogan warriors, his claws twitching in anticipation. "Come at me, you oversized lizards. Let's Dance."

With a deafening howl that reverberated through the building, Brutus lunged at the nearest Krogan guard, his claws slicing through flesh and armor effortlessly. The Krogan let out a pained bellow as he crumpled to the ground, blood splattering the walls in his wake. Unfazed, Brutus pressed forward like a relentless storm.

Garrus's sniper rifle echoed through the room, each shot precise and lethal. The Vorcha enemies fell one by one to his expert marksmanship. However, despite their casualties, more foes flooded in, seeming like an endless wave of adversaries.

A second Krogan guard thundered towards Brutus, crashing into him like a battering ram. Agonizing pain shot through Brutus as he felt ribs give way under the immense force, blood filling his mouth. Drawing on his resilience, he harnessed the pain into a biotic charge that propelled him across the room towards his enemy.

The impact was bone-crushing as Brutus slammed into the guard with a sickening thud. The guard was hurled backward and collided with the wall with a resounding crack, his body limp. Faint from his injuries, Brutus fought to stay upright.

“I won't let her down,” he thought with Shepard's pleading image flashing through his mind.

Garm surged forward, biotics crackling around him, eyes gleaming with madness. The two clashed in a violent whirlwind of dark energy and brute force, each strike sending shockwaves through their surroundings. Despite waning strength and injuries taking their toll, Brutus refused to yield.

As they grappled with primal ferocity and unyielding determination, their clash reverberated throughout the room. The sound of roaring biotic energy mixed with the harsh impact of their bodies colliding filled every corner of space.

Brutus unleashed a devastating biotic charge that sent Garm sprawling across the room with a sickening thud before he staggered back up on unsteady legs.

"Is that all you've got?" Garm snarled with a menacing grin, wiping blood from his split lip.

Brutus allowed himself a grim chuckle amidst the chaos. "Just getting warmed up," he retorted before launching into another flurry of blows that resounded through the air like thunder.

Their battle became a dance of power and skill as they traded bone-crushing strikes and deft maneuvers in an intricate ballet of combat prowess. Garm was sporting a smile, Brutus couldn’t help but return as they clashed. Garm had found an adversary worth going all out on. a laugh falling from his mouth, "haha, Not bad. Not bad at all Wolf"

Each strike landed with resounding impact - fists met flesh with sickening thuds while biotic energy crackled and surged around them like a violent storm.

Gasping for breath and feeling every ache in his weary body, Brutus locked eyes with Garm - two warriors locked in an intense struggle for dominance in a fight to determine their fates.

With renewed fury burning in his veins, Brutus gritted his teeth and pushed himself beyond his limits to face whatever came next in this brutal clash of wills.

Garm was tough; You didn’t become the leader of a Merc band like the Blood-pack without being hard to kill. Every time Brutus threw a punch, it felt like Garm hit back harder. His cracked rib was hindering him; every breath shot through him like painful surge.

Garm managed to ready his shotgun fast enough to blast Brutus in the chest; Thankfully the armor caught the pellets, but the force was enough to knock Brutus off his feet. "Fuck!" He cursed as air escaped his lungs. Before Garm could fire another shell, Garrus placed a well-placed shot right through Garm's gun, the other shots disintegrating against garms barrier.

"Archangel!… Finally caught up to you; You're not gonna run like last time now?” Garm’s rough voice echoed as he started to make for the stairs up to Garrus.

“Like hell you're going up those stairs on my watch!” Brutus’s eyes were seeing red; His Fur bristled; His growls turned feral; Drool trickled from his mouth. For the first time since losing his team he felt true RAGE.

The device on his back whirred to life, smoke billowing from the vents of the spinning circle on his back. Energy surged through the wires. His claws began to glow, going from a deep violet, to a solid black. He pushed his enhancements to the brink, the Black light pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

With a final surge of desperation he vaulted up the stairs; enhanced claws ripping through Garm's barrier with ease; His biotic enhancement overpowering Garm’s defences; His metal claws digging into Garm’s thick metal armor, every swipe causing metal to fly. Their ferocious struggle driving them both towards an outcome neither could escape.

“Let me go,” Garm spat defiantly as they grappled relentlessly; Each strike resonating with echoing power that shook their surroundings. Garm in desperation, reared his thick, krogan head back and slammed it into Brutus’s cranium.

Even as blood poured from Brutus’s skull he didn’t let up, Garm hated to admit it but, the crazy, feral look look in Brutus’s eyes caused fear to start creeping in. In an instant of unadulterated fury driven by survival instincts and loyalty, Brutus sunk his teeth into Garm’s neck; tearing flesh in defiance of all norms or decorum. squeezing his sharp K9 teeth into the soft flesh. whipping his head back and forth until he felt he had secured victory. He didn’t care that he had just committed a galactic taboo, like a good wolf, he fought tooth and nail to claim victory.

But even as Garm fell, his life fading, he lashed out one last time. His fist slammed into Brutus's side, the crack of breaking bone lost amid the chaos. Brutus staggered back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the taste of blood thick on his tongue.

"It's over," he thought as darkness encroached around him. "I kept my promise."

And as he slumped to the floor, consciousness fading, Brutus could only hope that it had been enough, Garrus and Shepard’s voice a mere echo in his ears.

As the smoke slowly dissipated, revealing the aftermath of the fierce battle, Shepard and her team emerged from the shadows within the building. Their gaze fell upon the figure of Brutus, his once soft, and well maintained majestic Dark grey fur now a grim tapestry of blood stains, his breaths shallow and labored.

"Brutus!" Shepard's voice pierced through the heavy silence, urgency lacing each syllable as she hurried to his side. Her gentle hands tenderly traced over his wounds, silently acknowledging the toll of the fight. "Stay with me, big guy. We're getting you out of here."

Brutus's eyes fluttered open, his gaze finding Shepard's. "Garrus…" he rasped, his voice thick with pain. "Is he…?"

"He's alive," Shepard assured him, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes. "You did well, Brutus. You kept him safe."

Shepard and surprisingly Miranda helped him the rest of the way, up the stairs. Dragging him to the room Garrus had made his sniper nest.

"Shepard, good to see you're ok. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more with the battle between Garm and Brutus. There was just so many vorcha, and with the team of krogan. I want to offer my sincere gratitude to you Brutus. Without you, I may have not made it, Good news though, I think we should head out. Blue-Suns shouldn’t be to hard to get by." Garrus offered his words to the Werewolf.

A weak smile tugged at Brutus's lips, a flicker of pride amidst the pain. But the moment was short-lived, shattered by the sudden roar of engines overhead.

Shepard's head snapped up, her eyes widening as she saw the Blue Suns airship descending upon them. "Get down!" she shouted, throwing herself over Brutus as a hail of bullets ripped through the air.

Garrus, Still a little slow from the earlier battle was slow to get to cover. His shields flared as rounds slammed into them, the barrier barely holding under the onslaught.

Garrus made it to cover, but his shields were gone, and he needed time to recharge them. But to everybody's horror, a rocket flew through the room. Hitting beside Garrus’s cover. knocking him flat, with shrapnel hitting him hard.

In that moment of chaos, time seemed to stand still as Brutus felt a surge of anguish and disbelief grip his very being. His heart thundered in his chest, echoing the devastation unfolding before him. "No," he whispered, a plea lost in the cacophony of destruction. "Not like this. Not after everything." PTSD flashes of his Illang invaded his mind, causing his mental to go in a downward spiral.

But Shepard was already moving, her hand reaching for the heavy weapon at her back. With a roar of defiance, she brought the M-100 grenade launcher to her shoulder, the barrel glowing as she took aim.

The airship banked, trying to evade, but it was too late. Shepard's finger tightened on the trigger, and the world exploded in a blast of fire and shrapnel.

The airship shuddered, flames engulfing its engines, and then it was falling, plummeting from the sky in a trail of smoke and debris.

"Normandy, this is Shepard," the commander barked into her comms, her voice strained but steady. "We need emergency evac, now! Brutus is down, and Garrus... he's in bad shape."

As the familiar shape of the Normandy’s UT-47 Kodiak Drop-Shuttle descended from above, Shepard's hand found Garrus's, her fingers tightening around his. "Stay with me," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "Don't you dare give up on me now."

Meanwhile Miranda tried to calm Brutus down, Her hands gripping his shoulders. The way he slightly shook, his furry ears laid back, flat against his head, and the tiniest of whimpers escaping his mouth. It pulled Miranda’s heartstrings. It reminded her of the countless nights she would dream of her father finding her sister. "Hey, It’s ok. We know it’s not your fault. Stay with us, just stay with my voice. Don’t follow the rabbit down the hole"

Brutus clung to consciousness, his world reduced to the pressure of Miranda's hands around his shoulders, the sound of her voice guiding him through the darkness.

“I won't,” he thought, his resolve hardening even as his body faltered. “I won't fail her, or Shepard. Not now. Not ever.”

Jacob could only stand in silence, carrying the equipment of the fallen warriors.

And so, as the Normandy's cargo bay doors opened and the medical team rushed to meet them, Brutus held on, his will to survive unbreakable in the face of even the direst odds.

In the Normandy's war room, the silence was heavy, the air thick with tension. Shepard and Brutus sit across from each other, their gazes locked, their expressions grim.

“She blames herself,” Brutus realized, seeing the guilt that shadowed Shepard's eyes. “She thinks she failed us.”

"Commander..." he began, his voice rough, the words catching in his throat.

But Shepard held up a hand, silencing him. "Don't," she said, her voice low, her gaze falling to the table between them. "Just... don't."

Brutus's heart ached at the pain in her voice, the weight of responsibility that pressed down upon her shoulders.

“It's not your fault, it’s mine” he wanted to say. “You did everything you could. More than anyone could have asked.”

But the words wouldn't come, lost in the silence that stretched between them.

And so they sat, two warriors bound by duty and sacrifice, waiting for news that would either lift them from the depths of despair or plunge them deeper into the abyss.

The fate of a friend, of a comrade, hanging in the balance, the future uncertain, the road ahead shrouded in shadow.

But even in the darkness, they had each other. A bond forged in blood and battle, unbreakable and unyielding.

And that, Brutus knew, would have to be enough.

EDI’s voice chimed in, breaking the silence. Bringing the words they wanted, they needed to hear. This would determine everything from here on out. "I have news of Archangels status."

Shepard inhaled deeply, "Alright, EDI. Give us the news…Is he?"

The door opened abruptly, and a familiar voice rang out, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?"

Hope you liked it! :). It took me longer than it should’ve.

Chapter Text

Brutus lumbered through the sleek corridors of the Normandy, his claws clicking against the metal grating. His bones ached, but the thrill of being aboard this marvel of engineering eclipsed any discomfort. his towering frame dwarfing the doorways as he moved with preternatural grace. The ship hummed with power beneath his feet, a fitting vessel for a being of his caliber. His enhanced healing had already mended the worst of his wounds, flesh knitting back together at a rate that would impress even the hardiest krogan.

The doors to the cockpit whirred open, and Brutus ducked his head to enter. A lithe figure hunched over the glowing displays, hands dancing across the controls with a possessed intensity.

"Ah, our resident Krogan," the helmsman said sarcastically without looking up. "Remind me to send Shepard a fruit basket for letting you roam free."

"Very funny, guess that's why they call you Joker," Brutus growled, looming over the pilot's shoulder. Complex navigational readouts flashed across the view-screen. "That course you're plotting looks more twisted than a varren's bowels."

Joker scoffed. "I'll have you know I could fly through a mass relay sideways with my eyes closed. This? Child's play."

The disembodied voice of EDI chimed in. "That scenario seems inadvisable, Mr. Moreau. Ocular input remains essential for—"

"Not now, Mom," Joker said. He spun his chair to face Brutus, wincing at the motion. "Guess they broke the mold when they cooked you up in a lab, huh?"

Brutus shrugged his hunched shoulders. "And they broke your bones when they grew you in the womb." He was used to the jokes about his touchy subject.

They traded barbs like old friends, Joker's acerbic wit an odd complement to Brutus's blunt observations. Here, at least, rank and species meant nothing, only skill and audacity mattered.

Satisfied, Brutus left Joker to his calibrations and prowled down to the medical bay. The doors parted to reveal Dr. Chakwas poring over a datapad, her hawk, like gaze snapping to him as he entered.

"Brutus, right?" she said warmly, setting aside her work. "How's my newest, favourite patient?"

He snorted. "Restless. Shepard's got me cooped up in the ship, while she does all the fun stuff, like looking for the Salarian Doctor. I wasn't even hurt that badly on the last mission."

Dr. Chakwas tutted, motioning for him to sit. "From what I've seen, your brand of 'fun' leads you straight to my operating table. Not that I mind patching you up."

"I'm starting to think she left me behind because she didn't want Aria chitchatting with me again~" Brutus eased onto the cot, the thin mattress creaking under his prodigious weight. As Dr. Chakwas ran her omni-tool over his latest scars, an easy silence settled between them. She had a knack for projecting calm amidst the maelstrom.

"Now wouldn't that be something, The great Commander Shepard getting jealous perhaps?~" Dr. Chakwas could only chuckle at the notion.

"Jealous? Nice joke, I can tell that Shepard probably doesn't do liking people very easily. Anyways, You've been a medic a long time?," Brutus said.

"Longer than I care to admit." She chuckled. "I've seen my share of scrapes and all the trouble soldiers get into." Her keen eyes locked on his. "I owe them my absolute best."

He nodded, absorbing her wisdom. The doctor had an air of quiet steel about her, an unshakable resolve to protect those in her care. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for non combatants like her.

As she finished her ministrations, Dr. Chakwas fixed him with a knowing look. "Now, off with you, and do try to stay in one piece."

Brutus gave her a mock salute and rumbled from the room, thoughts churning with the past and present colliding in his skull. For the first time in ages, he felt part of something greater, and he would fight tooth and claw to safeguard it.

Brutus ventured deeper into the Normandy's labyrinthine corridors, his heavy footfalls echoing against the polished metal. The scent of Turian cologne and heatsinks tickled his nostrils as he approached the cannon room, a familiar aroma that set his predatory instincts on edge.

There, hunched over a glowing console, stood Garrus Vakarian. The turian's mandibles flared in concentration, his deft fingers dancing across the interface. Memories flooded Brutus's mind, transporting him back to just after the mission to retrieve Archangel.

*Flashback*

EDI's voice chimed in, breaking the silence. Bringing the words they wanted, they needed to hear. This would determine everything from here on out. "I have news of Archangels status."

Shepard inhaled deeply, "Alright, EDI. Give us the news…Is he?"

The door opened abruptly, and a familiar voice rang out, "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Garrus walked in, His armor was scorched, it also had shrapnel all up the front. His face had a new scar running up it. But he was alive, "Nobody would hand me a mirror on the way up here, Is It really that bad?" His raspy tone inquired jokingly.

Shepard replied with a huge smile, "Garrus! you tough son of a bitch, I'm glad to see you ok!, I wish we were able to bring you out safely… As for looks, You've always been ugly Garrus~" she jokingly said

Brutus also cracked a smile, glad that his failure hadn't led to the death of one of Shepard's closest friends. "Yeah, Slap some paint over that mug and you couldn't tell the difference." Brutus couldn't help throwing a jab at him..

"Oh really now?, Well at least this gives you a fighting chance at picking up some ladies on our next citadel vacation. After all, I reign supreme in the looks department." Garrus threw back a challenge towards Brutus.

Brutus could only snarl playfully, "You got yourself a deal Archangel, or should I say Vakarian now that you're no longer stomping out mercenary strong holds?. Next time we hit up purgatory, we'll see who can tango with the ladies better, let's say, 500 Credits?"

Garrus shook his head and laughed before grunting in pain, "Don't make me laugh, Shit still hurts from the surgery. But I don't mind making some credits, your on!"

*Present*

The memory of their banter faded as Brutus snapped back to the present. Garrus looked up, his keen eyes locking onto Brutus's figure.

"Shouldn't you be out there terrorizing some poor, unsuspecting mercs, looking for the Salarian?" Garrus teased, though the warmth in his voice belied his words.

Brutus chuckled, the low rumble resonating through the room. "Shepard's got me benched for now. Something about not knowing how a virus in the Wards will react with my biology. How's the calibration business?"

Garrus sighed and stepped back from his console. "You know how it is, tweak one setting and two others go off balance. It's a dance, Brutus, a never-ending dance."

Brutus nodded, scanning the intricate array of weaponry that surrounded them, The cannons impressive. "Looks like you could use a break. Joker's cracking jokes, Dr. Chakwas thinks Shepard's got a soft spot for me, and I've made myself cozy in the bowels of this ship. Your reason for selecting this room?"

"Someone's got to keep these guns in top shape," Garrus replied with a shrug of his plated shoulders.

They traded barbs back and forth, the banter flowing as easily as breathing. Despite their different species, the two mercenaries understood each other on a fundamental level. They had both seen the ugliness of the galaxy, the price of failure etched into their very flesh.

As their laughter faded, Garrus's expression turned somber. "I never thanked you properly. For Omega. For having my back against Garm. There was a time on Omega when I could have took Garm on 1 on 1, but I guess I got a little rusty. Thank you."

Brutus clapped a hand on the turian's shoulder, his claws digging into the armored plate. "Don't worry about it, Garm may have been a arrogant asshole of a Krogan, But he was still leader of the Blood Pack. Meaning he was a tough bastard, even me with all my enhancements couldn't beat him so easily. We're buddies now Garrus. Bound by blood and battle, I should be the one apologizing for allowing the gunship to sneak up on us."

A moment of silent understanding passed between them, the weight of shared loss and hard-won victories. In that instant, Brutus knew he would gladly lay down his life for this crew, this newfound pack.

"You know," Garrus said at last, his tone quieter now, "I heard about what happened to your old unit. The Illang, right? Damned shame, that."

As they stood there in silence, Garrus's words hung heavy in the air. Brutus couldn't escape the memories of his old unit, the Illang, and the tragedy that had befallen them. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "Damned shame." He clenched his jaw to keep from showing any emotion, but Garrus could see right through him.

Garrus nodded, his eyes distant. "I lost my own squad not too long ago. Good men and women, all of them. Betrayed by my own friend, led right into an ambush. It...it stays with you. I Plan on getting my revenge before the suicide mission, I'd like it if you joined me when I do."

Garrus revealed the loss of his own squad, and for a moment, their shared pain bridged the gap between them. They were both soldiers who had seen too much death, carrying it with them like a weight that would never leave. "Alright Vakarian, When you find the bastard. You can count on me to help track him down."

Brutus felt a mix of sorrow and solidarity as he raised his fist in tribute to the fallen. In this moment, their differences didn't matter, they were brothers united by their scars and their duty to remember those they had lost. "To the fallen," he said, his voice gaining courage.

Garrus mirrored his gesture and echoed his words, "To the fallen," and for a brief moment, they found solace in each other's company. Brutus couldn't shake off the conflicting emotions that swirled within him, grief for his fallen comrades and gratitude for finding a kindred spirit in an unexpected place.

They spent the next hour swapping war stories, tales of narrow escapes and hard-won victories. It was a balm to the soul, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the camaraderie of those who understood.

As Brutus made to leave, his omni-tool pinged with an incoming message. It was from Kelly Chambers, the ship's yeoman. "Just a heads up," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "I think Miranda might be a bit stressed out. Might want to check in on her, see if there's anything you can do to help."

"Thanks for the heads up, Kelly," he rumbled. "I'll go check on her."

With a nod to Garrus, Brutus set off towards Miranda's quarters, his mind whirling with possibilities. The Normandy needed her XO at peak performance, but more than that, he found himself strangely invested in her well-being.

As he approached her door, Brutus steeled himself. Dealing with emotions had never been his strong suit, but for the sake of the mission, and perhaps something more, he would do his damnedest to lift Miranda's spirits.

He raised a clawed hand and knocked, the sound reverberating through the quiet hallway. Whatever awaited him on the other side, Brutus was determined to face it head-on, as he always had.

He found Miranda in her office, her brow furrowed as she pored over a stack of datapads. She looked up as he entered, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.

"Brutus," she said, her tone clipped. "What can I do for you?"

He leaned against the doorframe, his posture deliberately casual. "Heard a rumor you might be a bit stressed out. Thought I'd come and see if there's anything I can do to help."

Miranda's lips thinned, her expression guarded. "I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I have everything under control."

He stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. The room was immaculate, every surface gleaming with a clinical precision that set his teeth on edge. Miranda herself looked as pristine as ever, her white catsuit hugging her curves like a second skin.

But there was a tightness around her eyes, a tension in her shoulders that betrayed her inner turmoil. Brutus could smell the stress rolling off her in waves, a sharp, acrid scent that made his nose twitch.

"Heard you might need a little R&R," he said, keeping his tone light. "Thought I'd drop by and offer my services."

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance filtering through as she regarded his intrusion. "Brutus, I don't need a babysitter. My personal state is none of your concern."

Brutus allowed himself a small grin, his fangs glinting in the artificial light. "Maybe not, but stress is a silent killer, Lawson. If it affects your work, it becomes my concern, Shepard needs the best, and If her XO Isn't in top shape. It could lead to dire circumstances, correct logic?"

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut through with one of his claws. Miranda sighed and leaned back in her chair, her gaze softening just a fraction. "You're not going to leave until you've had your say, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Brutus replied, his tone laced with a humor that belied the seriousness of his intent.

Miranda set aside her datapads and steepled her fingers. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Brutus shrugged nonchalantly and stepped closer. "How about a spar? A good fight always clears my head."

A spark of interest flickered in Miranda's eyes despite herself. "And you think you can take me?"

He chuckled deeply, the rumbling sound filling the room. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Her lips curled into a smirk as she stood up from her desk, She was Cerberus's best operative, She was peak human performance, and She couldn't pass the opportunity to see his smug face surprised. "Alright, Brutus. You're on."

They made their way to the Normandy's training room, a makeshift area located in the cargo hold. An unspoken agreement hanging between them: no powers, no weapons, just hand-to-hand combat to level the playing field between human and werewolf strength.

The room was a symphony of clanging metal and the dull thuds of punching bags as they walked in. The space was empty, save for the two of them, a private arena for their impromptu bout.

Miranda stretched her limbs with practiced ease, her every move precise and fluid. Brutus watched her, his yellow-violet eyes tracking the lithe grace of her body, respect mingling with anticipation. She was strong and capable; he could tell by the way she carried herself.

Brutus stretched his massive limbs, the sinew and muscle flexing beneath his fur. Miranda watched him, her own body poised and ready, every inch the lethal operative she was known to be.

The air between them crackled with a strange electricity as they circled each other, looking for an opening. Brutus was the first to lunge, his move a feint to gauge her reaction. She sidestepped gracefully, pivoting to face him with a smirk that said she would not be so easily fooled.

Back and forth they went, trading blows that were expertly blocked or narrowly dodged. Each move was a conversation, an exchange that said more than words ever could. Brutus had to admit, Miranda's reputation was well-deserved; she moved with precision and purpose, her form perfect.

Their sparring grew more intense, sweat glistening on Miranda's brow as she matched him step for step. The sounds of their exertion echoed around them, sharp intakes of breath, the slide of feet across the floor, the occasional grunt when a hit landed just a little too close for comfort.

Miranda feigned left and then went right, catching Brutus off-guard with a palm strike that made him stumble back. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he regained his footing, impressed by her cunning.

Brutus's instincts flared to life, a primal satisfaction surging through him at the challenge she presented. He launched himself forward with newfound vigor, claws retracted but ready. His attacks became a blur, pushing Miranda to her limits as she deflected and countered with a dancer's grace.

The atmosphere shifted subtly, each block and counter-attack carrying an undercurrent of intimacy that neither acknowledged aloud. Their breathing synchronized as if in a dance neither had rehearsed but both instinctively understood. The space between them seemed to charge with each exchange, an electric hum that was felt more than heard.

Miranda slipped beneath his guard, her body pressing close against his for a fleeting moment as she aimed a knee towards his midsection. He caught it just in time, his large hand wrapping around her thigh, feeling the strength and warmth of her through the fabric of her suit.

Their eyes locked, and for an instant, the world outside their silent battle ceased to exist. Brutus' heart hammered in his chest, sending a surge of blood roaring in his ears. Miranda's pulse fluttered rapidly beneath his touch, a wild rhythm that thrummed against his skin.

Releasing her leg with deliberate slowness, Brutus stepped back to reassess, the ghost of her heat lingering on his palm. She gave him a look that was equal parts warning and invitation, daring him to underestimate her again.

The fight continued, though now there was an unspoken question hanging between each strike and counterstrike. A brush of fingers against fur could have been accidental; the way Miranda's body pressed against his during a grapple was surely strategic... wasn't it?

"You're good," he murmured, the words rough in his throat.

"Better than you expected?" Miranda retorted, but her voice lacked its usual hard edge.

"It seems there are many things I've yet to learn about you," he confessed softly.

He caught her leg, when she went to throw a round house kick at him, using the momentum to slam her on to the mat with minimal force, just enough to assert some dominance in this friendly spar. She landed on her back, she let out a grunt as she looked up now at Brutus, gaze staying just a little too long on his soft Furry ears.

"Oh~ Don't tell me you wanna pet them?. That would be something, little Miranda politely asking to pet this wolves ears. ha-ha" Brutus couldn't help but smile down on her, as a small blush appeared and disappeared ob her face, fast as a mass relay jump.

"N-No… Why would me, the Perfect human want to p-pet some dumb mutts ears…" Her rapid eye movements betraying her true feelings.

Miranda lay there, momentarily stunned by her position beneath the towering werewolf. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and she could feel the heat from his body as he stood over her. The look in his eyes had changed; no longer just a warrior assessing his opponent, but something more primal.

Brutus extended a hand to help her up, his gesture igniting a spark of defiance within her. She smacked it away, rolling deftly to her feet without assistance. "I don't need your pity," she spat, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what could be seen as a playful sneer.

He raised an eyebrow at her response but didn't press the issue. Instead, Brutus backed off to give her space. "Never pity," he replied with a hint of respect coloring his tone. "Only admiration."

Miranda checked her Omni-Tool, It had already been 30 minutes and She still had work to do. With a tired sigh, she raised her hands "We'll call it a tie for now, I should really get back to my work. Being Executive Officer doesn't come with much downtime." She started back towards the Elevator, stopping as the doors opened, throwing a look back at Brutus as her hips swayed just a little too much under her tight catsuit for Brutus's comfort "Thank you, for the spar I mean. I'd like to continue it sometime~" She disappeared within.

Miranda didn't know exactly what she was doing with Brutus, She was a cold, calculating operative. She was used to manipulating people, hell, she even manipulated Shepard at some points. But Brutus was an enigma, She should be using her mind and body to manipulate such a strong asset, but here she was, borderline flirting with the beast, with no intention of manipulation in mind. She raised her head and leaned against the cold elevator wall, letting a small smile appear for a split moment. before letting the mask return.

Brutus could only shake his Head, thanking God that his K9 anatomy and his soft, dark fur hid his large…Ahem, Appendage so well from her calculating eyes. "Why is her catsuit so tight?… Any longer and my manhood might have started playing peek-a-boo, then we would have had an awkward situation on our hands." He mused silently.

The heavy metal doors of the elevator slid open with a hiss, revealing the dimly lit corridor of the engineering deck. Brutus stepped out, his boots thudding against the grated floor as he made his way toward the secluded area beneath the engine room. Hearing engineer Donnelly and Daniels arguing on the other side of the door as he disappeared down the stairs

The space was cramped and cluttered, with pipes and conduits snaking along the walls like metallic veins. But there was a certain charm to it, a sense of privacy and isolation that appealed to the lone wolf within him. (Jacks usual location on ME2, Yes, they will share this space)

Brutus set to work, clearing out the debris and organizing his meager belongings. He hung his battered armor, and cloak on a makeshift rack, the scars and dents telling stories of countless battles. His weapons, and gauntlets lovingly maintained and modified, found their place on a nearby workbench. He was naked in a sense, for the first time in awhile. No armor to hide himself, His fur the only companion at the moment.

As he worked, Brutus's mind wandered to the conversation with Miranda, the way her icy exterior had melted away, revealing the vulnerability beneath. It was a side of her he had never seen before, and it stirred something within him, a fierce protectiveness that caught him off guard.

The sound of the elevator doors opening snapped Brutus out of his reverie. He turned, his enhanced senses picking up the familiar scent of gun oil and ozone that always seemed to cling to Shepard.

"Brutus," Shepard greeted, stepping down the stairs and into the room area. Her emerald eyes took in the space, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I see you've made yourself at home."

Brutus shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "It's not much, but it's mine."

Shepard nodded, understanding in her gaze. "Sometimes, that's all we need." She hesitated, then added, "I was just about to grab some chow in the canteen. Care to join me?"

Brutus's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he grinned. "Lead the way, Commander."

The canteen was empty save for a few off-duty crew members, hunched over their meals in weary silence. Shepard and Brutus loaded up their trays and found a quiet space, the hum of the ship's engines a constant background noise.

For a moment, they ate in companionable silence, the weight of their shared mission hanging heavy in the air. Then Shepard sighed, pushing her tray away.

"I won't lie, Brutus," she said, her voice low and tired. "This mission... it's a damn nightmare. The Collectors, the Reapers, the fate of the entire galaxy hanging in the balance..."

Brutus listened, his heart aching slightly at the weariness in her tone. He knew all too well the burden of leadership, the crushing responsibility of holding lives in your hands.

"We'll get through this, Shepard," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're not alone. You've got the best damn crew in the galaxy at your back, and we'll follow you to hell and back if that's what it takes."

Shepard looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and something else, something deeper and more profound, that he couldn't place. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm glad you're here, Brutus. I know we haven't known each other all that long, but I don't think I could do this without you." placing a hand over his much larger one, she gave him her full attention.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Brutus felt a warmth spreading through his chest, a sense of belonging and purpose that he had never known before.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. "We're in this together, Shepard. Until the end."

And as they sat there, two warriors bound by duty and destiny, Brutus knew that he had finally found his place in the universe. A place to call home, and people to fight for. suddenly her voice struck through the air.

"I heard that you and Miranda might have gotten in to quite the scuttle?" She raised her eyebrow accusingly.

Brutus started to get slightly nervous, looking around rapidly under her watchful eyes, "I d-don't know what you are referring to… She was feeling stressed earlier and i suggested that we have a friendly spar to cool her head a bit. The Normandy needs her XO" Answering a bit too quickly, It wasn't his fault that her intense gaze made his fur stand up.

Shepard let a smirk grace her beautiful features as she had Brutus where she wanted him, she had put a muzzle on the beast, "Oh? So your idea of cooling her head is to spar?, I'm sure you had no intentions of using it as an excuse to get, hands on with her, correct?~"

Brutus gulped comically, "N-No!, Me!? getting hands on with Miranda!?, Why would you accuse me of such accusations. I mean, we did spar, and I guess we did get kinda close with our punches,but I swear it was mostly professional!."

Shepard let a shit eating grin grace her face, loving the lighthearted tone of the quiet canteen. "Mostly?, Interesting~. Well I'm glad that Miranda is feeling better. Thank you for filling in the role of Commander while I was away, I'll make sure to check in on her. Oh Brutus!, you should know that, Mordin Solus is located in the tech labs opposite of the Armory, he's brilliant but very eccentric with his work." She got up, picking up both of their trays, an idea to tease him sprung to mind. "And also, I wouldn't mind having a little sparring session of our own sometime~ don't keep me waiting~" she sauntered off with a pep in her step.

Brutus watched Shepard retreat, her confident stride and her playful hips swaying enticingly beneath her armor. sending his pulse racing in a way that the spar with Miranda ever could. He cursed himself for letting his guard down around the Commander. How had she managed to corner him so effortlessly? She was a predator in her own right, and he'd do well to remember that.

Brutus allowed himself a moment to revel in the energy that Shepard left in her wake, a blend of combat-readiness and sensual promise that only a seasoned warrior like herself could exude so effortlessly. His mind awash with conflicting emotions. As the engine's thrum melded with his own heightened senses, he realized that this, this tangle of camaraderie, teasing banter, and unexpected attraction, was something new. Something dangerous for his more primal instincts. The side he had to keep in check.

With a growl, Brutus pushed back from the table and decided it was time for some much-needed solitude. He needed to regain his composure before he faced Shepard again. She had a way of peeling back his layers, exposing him more than any physical spar ever could.

He made his way to his newly discovered sanctuary, his mind buzzed with the events of the day. The elevator hummed softly as it descended, and he stepped out into the dimly lit corridor that led to his secret haven.

The door hissed open, revealing the space he had begun to make his own. Brutus took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of metal and grease that permeated the air. He moved to the workbench he had set up, running his clawed hands over the tools and components scattered across its surface.

This was his domain, a place where he could lose himself in the intricacies of machinery and forget, if only for a moment, the weight of the mission that lay ahead. He picked up a piece of armor, turning it over in his hands as he contemplated the modifications he could make to enhance its performance.

Despite his focus on the task at hand, Shepard's presence lingered in his mind. Her gentle words and admiring gaze ignited a fire within him that he never thought possible. As the strong and disciplined leader of the Wolf Brigade, he never allowed himself to be vulnerable or fall for anyone. But now, as the weight of rebuilding the Illang and avenging his fallen team pressed down on him, another thought lurked in the depths of his mind "could someone like him truly experience love?, Was it worth risking everything for?" The urgency of the moment was pushing him to act, to pursue relationships before it was too late. Yet, doubts and fears echoed in his head, reminding him of the potential consequences. Yet another thought persisted: if he didn't take this chance now, would he regret it forever?

He worked late into the night, his enhanced senses allowing him to see clearly even in the dim light. And as he finally set his tools aside and stretched his aching muscles, he felt a sense of peace settle over him.

In the cavernous silence of his makeshift den beneath the engine room, Brutus lay sprawled across the bare metal floor, his heart still hammering in his chest. The scent of Shepard lingered in his nostrils, a tantalizing mix of gun oil and Ozone. "She really does smell of earth wherever she goes." Brutus's tongue ran across his lips as he recalled her words, a low growl vibrating deep within his chest. "Don't keep me waiting..."

He shook his massive head, trying to dispel the thoughts that were unbecoming of a warrior of his stature. The experimentation hadn't made him to be distracted by carnal whims; they bred him for strength, loyalty, and tenacity. To be the perfect hybrid between beast and man, To have the ferocity of an animal, but the intelligence of something more. Yet here he was, entangled in a web of desire and duty.

There was also the matter with Miranda to contend with, her professional, cold facade barely masking the simmering heat that threatened to ignite between them during their spar. It was a dance as dangerous as any combat maneuver, and twice as intoxicating.

"We'll get through this," he thought, echoing his words to Shepard earlier. "Together, we can do anything."

With that thought firmly in his mind, Brutus made his way to his bunk, ready to face whatever challenges the new day might bring. And as he drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was of Shepard, and the bond they shared.

The Normandy was silent, just the core crew was awake to keep the ship maintained. Some of the ground team were awake as well, Everybody seemed to be winding down for the day. Joker had retired to his bunk after plotting the course to the Eagle Nebula, telling EDI to wake him if anything were to be shown on scanners. After all, Joker new the Terminus system was full of dangerous surprises.

Zaeed grimaced as he surveyed the Normandy's starboard cargo hold. Dim lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the piles of crates and equipment. Not ideal, but it would do. With a grunt, he hefted a battered M-8 Avenger rifle onto a makeshift table – his first real trophy from the brutal sieges on Zorya. Gnarled fingers caressed the weapon's scratched barrel as memories, both glorious and haunting, flooded back.

Next, he carefully placed a Blood Pack helmet alongside it, the faded red markings a testament to his relentless crusade against the vicious mercenary group. Last, Zaeed positioned a turian frigate model ship, its sleek lines reminding him of that fateful day above Camala when... He shook his head, refusing to dwell on it now. These were his keepsakes, hard-won in the fires of battle. They grounded him. Steeled his resolve.

The mercenary allowed the faintest of smirks. This place would shape up just fine. He could make himself at home amidst the reminders of why he kept putting his ass on the line, year after year.

Across the Normandy, the steady thump of jazz music smoothed Jacob's brow as he meticulously reassembled a Vindicator rifle. His calloused fingers danced over components with practiced ease, muscle memory taking over. Deep breaths expelled the tension coiled within him.

The stakes couldn't be higher, but neither could the payoff, crippling the Collectors once and for all. He had to be ready. Had to be sharp as a blade's edge when he stormed the Collector home-world. He was ready, The thought of his father invading his mind momentarily. But He couldn't dwell on the man that disappeared ten years ago. He shook the thoughts from his head, turned up the jazz music, and he returned his focus to the weapon before him. One round at a time.

Miranda's jaw clenched as she signed off on her report to the Illusive Man. Her sculpted digits glided across the haptic interface, meticulous down to the last keystroke. Revealing nothing. Betraying not a shred of the swirl of hesitation and uncertainty roiling within her carefully guarded psyche. Was she truly doing the right thing by following his directives? By guiding Shepard down this inexorable path? and what of her sister? Rumors had made it's way to her, Her sister Oriana was being targeted by her father again. Was the Illusive Man really in her best interest?.

She inhaled a shuddering breath, shuttering those treacherous thoughts. Her formidable will was an adamantine bulwark against doubt. Her absolute faith in Cerberus's mission was unshakeable. Or so she thought.

And yet a tendril of unease persisted, fueled by that damnable sense of Thanatos lurking beyond the veil, that inescapable pull toward self-destruction, always hovering at the periphery...

With a touch of annoyance, Miranda rose, her frustration causing her to hastily strip off her skintight catsuit. There was a burning need to cleanse her mind of the poisonous thoughts that were festering within. Each tug and pull of the form-hugging garment over her voluptuous curves felt like a purging ritual, releasing some of the negativity brewing inside her. The skin-hugging suit slid down her voluptuous body like a second skin, pooling at her feet in a bundle of white with black accents. Her black kidskin gloves soon followed, landing in a crumpled pile beside her catsuit. The knee-high boots got kicked off next, leaving her sinfully bare.

Her lithe body stretched in an almost feline way, each muscle groaning with satisfaction. she admired herself in the full-length mirror. She looked ravishing, a result of genetically tuned looks, but she knew her appeal went beyond just physical attributes. It was an otherworldly allure that seeped from every pore, an intoxicating aura that could render even the most powerful man, someone like Brutus completely bewitched if she decided to turn it full throttle against him.

Her breasts were firm and ripe like summer peaches; their size and softness enough to make any man's mouth water. And her child-bearing hips, wide enough to distract and tease, yet slender enough to not be a battlefield liability. Her ass, now that was her greatest weapon she believed. It let her manipulate men and woman across the galaxy as she pleased, in her covert operations. A sight to truly behold in the naked flesh, large, round, and plump, Barely held within her tight catsuit. The silent thought of Brutus's large furry hands exploring every inch of her body made a shiver follow the curve of her spine. A warmth pooling deep within her stomach, "Stop, Miranda! bad girl, bad." She had to verbally berate herself, she was no amateur adolescent when it came to boys. She was Miranda. fucking. Lawson, and she would make sure that any boy including Brutus would be the one to submit, but it wasn't entirely her fault. She remembered the way Brutus' eyes had roamed over her body earlier, taking in every inch as if memorizing it for later. How his breath hitched when their gazes locked; how his heart pounded against his chest like a wild animal in a cage; all clear signs of his secret burning desire for her.

A wicked smile spread across her full lips at such provocative thoughts. However, she wasn't going to give him a taste of what he thirsted for just yet. There would be time enough for trivial games later on. For now, she needed to rest up and gather strength for the challenging fuck-fest ahead. Damn, tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day. She climb atop her mattress, she didn't bother covering herself, laying naked and sinfully provocative atop her mattress. Drifting off to lala land

Garrus's brow plates knitted as he scrutinized the main battery's displays, lost in a labyrinth of calculations and re-calibrations. Efficient as always, his mind remained singularly focused on optimizing the Normandy's devastating firepower.

The steady thrum of machinery provided an almost meditative backdrop. One that threatened to lull him into losing himself in the intricate dances of mass effect fields and frequencies. But a familiar tightness across his scarred mandible jarred him back to grim reality.

With a rueful half-smile, his talons traced the jagged furrows gouged into his plated hide by that fateful rocket strike on Omega. He couldn't deny the bitterness piercing his soul over his once-rugged good looks being slightly reduced by some scumbag on Omega. But neither could he quash the undeniable sense of pride burning within. Pride at having survived such a devastating attack. At persevering where so many had fallen.

He was still here. Still fighting the good fight, side by side with the last person he'd ever have expected: Brutus. That lone beast had done the impossible, earned Garrus's utmost respect through sheer, unbreakable determination. Against any sane logic, he now considered the battle-hardened maverick one of his closest allies. Perhaps even a friend.

Garrus felt the ghost of a smile tug at his plated mouth. Who'd have thought?

Mordin's brisk footfalls clacked urgently across the tech lab's pristine floor as he darted between workstations in a red blur. Data streams and simulations flickered across his console feeds with dizzying speed, his brilliant mind processing the deluge at a rate few organics could hope to match.

Scintillating discoveries and breakthrough hypotheses flooded his consciousness in rapid succession. He could feel himself hovering on the breathtaking cusp of some fundamental new insight into the very nature of the Collectors, their motivations, their unnerving Reaper augmentations.

"Log entry, record," he snapped in his sing-song cadence while pacing in tight, agitated circles. "Multiple urgent priorities vying for finite cognition resources. Need increased Nootropic intake? Should consult Dr. Chakwas on recommended dosage parameters. Weighing adverse side effects versus potential benefits. Personal estimate – 72.8% chance of acceptable risk/reward ratio. Will continue tests."

Never one to idle while his mind raced, Mordin sliced an incandescent beam of focused energy across a bank of petri samples, cauterizing and storing the latest batch of biological matter harvested during their mission. He catalogued each one with methodical precision, his brain whirring like a well-tuned engine block.

His rapid-fire musing continued unabated as he lost himself in the heady ocean of unknowns surrounding their foes. They were formidable adversaries to be sure, though Mordin couldn't suppress the faint thrill at having such a tantalizing puzzle to unravel.

Commander Shepard's bare legs shifted restlessly beneath the thin sheets as she tossed and turned in a fitful slumber. The normally unflappable marine radiated a disquieting mixture of angst and... something else entirely more carnal.

She grimaced as a bead of sweat trickled between the valley of her breasts, wicking into the loose cotton of her cropped tank top. Even her subconscious sought to betray her. To sabotage the rigid control she always exerted with mocking phantasms and lurid imaginings.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Shepard's breath caught as her dream conjured up an intimate chamber lit by the soft glow of the Normandy's ambient lighting. Brutus was there again, but this time his eyes gleamed not with blood-lust but with something much deeper, something primal and undeniable. His muscular arms wrapped around her, drawing her into the furnace of his embrace, his fur brushing against the sensitive skin of her exposed midriff, igniting a trail of white-hot desire that coursed through her veins.

She felt him growl, a low rumbling sound that resonated in his broad chest and vibrated against her own. Shepard's hands roamed over the furry contours of Brutus's back, nails scratching along his shoulder blades in a manner that elicited a pleasured snarl from the depths of his throat. The raw power beneath his fur-covered flesh left her breathless, craving more of the intoxicating connection that tethered them, heart to heart, soul to soul. Their lips met in a tempestuous dance, a melding of wildness and want so stark it bordered on the divine.

Shepard's dream self surrendered to the heat of the moment as Brutus's rough tongue traced the shell of her ear, sending shivers cascading down her spine. His breath was hot against her neck, tantalizing whispers of undiluted lust spilling from his lips onto her skin. There was no denying the pull between them, a force as unyielding as the ebb and flow of a raging sea.

The commander felt a pleasure surge as Brutus' large, deft hands explored the curves of her body, fingers expertly caressing the tightening peaks of her arousal with a dangerous gentleness that belied his ferocious exterior. Her back arched instinctively into his touch, aching to feel the warmth of his fur against her, to be enveloped in the strength of his embrace.

A soft moan slipped from between Shepard's parted lips, her breath hitching as the vividness of the dreamscape intensified. In her mind's eye, Brutus' muzzle nuzzled into the crook of her neck, seeking out the pulse that thrummed beneath her skin with the precision of a predator. His teeth grazed her throat in a playful warning of his capability, yet his actions remained tender, reverent almost, as if worshiping at the altar of her femininity.

Shepard whimpered, lost in the throes of her dream, her body responding to Brutus's every touch with an eager fervor. His hands slid lower, tracing the planes of her stomach before venturing lower, her body ached for his attention. The movement was both a tease and a promise, a sign that he was attuned to her deepest desires.

Shepard's body tensed, and a soft, keening sound escaped her lips. The dreamscape Brutus responded to her call with a growl that was pure, unrestrained power. His fingers traced the apex of her thighs, exploring and teasing near her intimate area, heated wetness pooled beneath the surface. His touch was both masterful and maddeningly deliberate.

Shepard whimpered into the darkness of her quarters, her dream-induced arousal spilling over into reality, "yes, right there!…" as she jolted up from her slumber, surprised and embarrassed at her late night rendezvous happening in her dream. Shepard's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Had she really just moaned aloud in her sleep? The mere thought sent a fresh wave of heat washing over her from head to toe.

Shepard's heart raced as she sat up in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her skin felt flushed and hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with residual arousal from her vivid dream. She ran a shaky hand through her tousled hair, trying to regain her composure.

"Get it together, Shepard," she muttered to herself. But the images from her dream lingered, Brutus's powerful body pressed against hers, his rough hands exploring her curves, his hot breath on her neck. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the bathroom, her cotton top and matching thong feeling a little too snug at the moment, she stumbled to the bathroom splashing cold water on her face. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Shepard couldn't deny the hunger in her own eyes. Her face was still flushed, "It's a Little weird to be thinking about your subordinate like that Shepard, I mean… He is unique, and strangely endearing in a type of way~ NO!, Stop it Shepard!" She sighed, It was going to be a long night ahead.

The Kodiak shuttle shuddered as it descended through Korlus's murky atmosphere. Shepard gripped the safety harness, her knuckles whitening inside her armor. Brutus sat across from her, his yellow-violet eyes glinting in the dim light. It wasn't the right time or place, but the undercurrent of tension hummed through the shuttle like static. The air crackled with the charge of battle, yet Shepard couldn't fully dispel the lingering heat from her dreams for the past . For a moment, she allowed herself to recall how Brutus's rough voice had whispered depravities that made her thighs clench in delicious anticipation. Then the memory evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced, chased away by the reality of their mission.

Shepard shook off the distraction and focused on Zaeed and Garrus, who were checking their weapons with practiced hands. Their banter was lighthearted but strained under the weight of what lay ahead. The camaraderie of combat was a given, yet this went deeper as each member of her team faced their own demons.

"All right, listen up," Shepard said, her voice steady despite the memories threatening her composure. "Our target is a krogan warlord named Okeer. Intel suggests he's growing his own private army of krogan. Should be a simple extraction."

With a smirk, Zaeed adjusted the strap on his rifle. "Simple, huh? Last time you said that, I ended up with more holes in me than a whore's stockings."

Garrus chuckled, the sound resonating through his mandibles. "Just make sure you don't let the pretty boy outdo you, Zaeed. I'm not hauling your ass out of the fire."

The shuttle thumped down on Korlus' barren surface, the landing gear compressing with a groan of stressed metal. Without delay, Brutus rose to his full height, his towering form momentarily eclipsing the cabin's emergency lights.

Shepard could feel Brutus's resolve as they locked eyes. "We get in, and get out before these bastards know what hit them," she stated firmly.

Brutus grunted in agreement. "Keep it tight, watch your ass." The pragmatic concern in his voice was as clear as the serrated edge of his fangs that peeked out from beneath his snarl.

Brutus was the first one out, his massive frame filling the hatchway. He froze, his head cocked as if listening intently. The plates on the back of his armor shifted as his muscles tensed.

"What is it?" Shepard asked, moving up behind him, trying to ignore the heat radiating off his body.

"We're not alone," he rumbled. "I hear movement in the complex ahead. And the cock of weapons."

No sooner had he spoken than a hail of gunfire rained down on their position, pinging off the shuttle's armored hull. Shepard cursed and dove for cover behind a rusted crate, the rest of the squad scrambling for safety.

"Blue Suns!" Garrus called out, ducking as a round ricocheted near his head. "Heavily armed."

"So much for an easy extraction," Miranda said dryly, her biotics flaring around her fists.

Brutus snarled, the sound more lupine than human. "I'll show them heavily armed." He unholstering his shotgun, the M-22 Eviscerator like a child's toy in his massive grip.

Shepard's heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and something more primal surging through her veins. "Hold position," she barked. "We push forward on my mark."

Zaeed chuckled darkly. "Time to make these bastards bleed."

Garrus lined up his scope. "I've got the high ground covered. Just say when, Shepard."

A grenade arced through the air, landing with a metallic clank near their position. "Shit!" Shepard yelled. "Move!"

They scrambled as the explosion rocked the landing zone, showering them with debris. Brutus's massive form shielded Shepard from the worst of it, his body pressed against hers for a heated moment.

"Fuck," Shepard gasped, her armor suddenly feeling too constrictive. She could feel Brutus's ragged breath on her neck. "Thanks for the save."

Brutus's eyes locked onto hers, pupils dilated. "Always," Brutus growled, his yellow eyes blazing.

They locked gazes for a heated moment before the crack of gunfire snapped them back to reality. Brutus spun, unleashing a barrage from his Eviscerator that tore through the Blue Suns' defenses. Blood and viscera painted the rusty walls.

"Push forward!" Shepard commanded, her own assault rifle barking as she advanced.

The squad moved as one. Garrus's sniper fire dropped mercs with pinpoint accuracy while Zaeed lobbed incendiary grenades into their ranks. Miranda's biotics pulled bodies out of cover, one at a time.

But it was Brutus who truly lived up to his namesake. He charged into the fray with a biotic charge, fangs bared in a feral snarl. His shotgun rang out and spilled the guts of an unlucky merc. The next merc was torn apart from His massive claws.

"Goddamn," Zaeed whistled appreciatively. "Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."

Shepard squared her shoulders. "We'll have to fight our way to Okeer. Brutus, take point. The rest of you, lay down covering fire and move up by squads. Let's go recruit us a krogan warlord."

Sweat trickled down Shepard's brow as they fought through the abandoned colony, the staccato of gunfire and guttural battle cries echoing off the crumbling walls. Brutus led the charge, his shotgun booming, each blast punctuated by a spray of blood and the crunch of shattered armor.

Miranda and Brutus worked in tandem, their biotics lifting enemies into the air for Garrus to pick off with surgical precision. Mordin darted from cover to cover, his omni-tool flashing as he overloaded shields and sabotaged weapons, the odd enemy lighting on fire from an incinerate tech blast.

Despite their efforts, the Blue Suns kept coming, an endless tide of mercenaries pouring from every crevice. Shepard's muscles showed early signs of fatigue, her rifle slowly growing heavy in her hands.

Suddenly, a new sound joined the fray, a deep, primal roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet. Shepard whirled around, her eyes widening at the sight of a massive krogan charging through the Blue Suns ranks, tossing armored bodies aside like ragdolls.

"Shepard!" Brutus's voice cut through the chaos. "That krogan… it's not with the mercs."

She followed his gaze, saw the confusion and fear on the faces of the Blue Suns as they turned their weapons on the rampaging krogan. Realization dawned, cold and sharp.

"Okeer," she breathed. "He's released his own krogan to fight the mercs."

Miranda sidled up beside her, lips pursed. "Clever. Let his creations do the dirty work while he focuses on his precious 'perfect' specimen."

The battle raged on, the mercenary forces now split between contending with Shepard's squad and Okeer's unleashed horror. Garrus' sharpshooting had become a rhythm of death, each pull of the trigger sending another Blue Sun to oblivion. Zaeed growled curses under his breath with every merc he sent to meet their ancestors, fire and bullets his mediums of expression.

Brutus fought like a demon unleashed. His shotgun roared, its concussive blasts echoing like thunder against the colony's dilapidated structures. Each round vaporized armor and tore through flesh like a predator rending prey. His movements were a blur of primal savagery and meticulous martial discipline, a dance of death honed by years of combat and the instincts of his lupine genetics.

Shepard maneuvered through the bloody carnival with a commander's eye, orchestrating the destruction as if it were second nature. "Mordin, I need those shields down!" she yelled over the cacophony.

"On it, Shepard!" Mordin replied, his fingers dancing across his omni-tool with the precision of a concert pianist playing a symphony of sabotage.

With deft coordination born from uncountable hours of training and real-world combat, Brutus and Miranda advanced side by side. Brutus let out a howl that rang out as he and Miranda used their biotics, Miranda's warp collided with Brutus's throw, causing a biotic explosion that took out most of the Blue-Suns ahead of them.

"Not bad Ms. Lawson~ Color me surprised that you were able to sync and predict my moves. Does that come from my psych evaluation, or do you just watch me secretly," Brutus teased, his voice a low growl of admiration mixed with something more lustful, his eyes briefly flickering over Miranda's form before refocusing on the battle at hand.

Miranda smirked, the deadly dance of combat igniting a spark in her that was both exhilarating and terrifying. "Stay focused, Brutus. We still have work to do."

The battle raged on relentlessly. Shepard pushed ahead, her rifle spitting death at the remaining Blue Suns. She tried to ignore the heat simmering under her skin at Miranda and Brutus's charged banter. This was hardly the time or place, yet she couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that coiled in her gut like a venomous snake.

Mordin's omni-tool flashed, overloading the last of the enemy's shields. "Path clear, Shepard. Okeer's lab just ahead."

"Copy that." She signaled the squad forward, stepping over the mangled corpses of mercs and krogan. The coppery scent of blood hung thick in the air.

As they approached the lab, an eerie silence descended, broken only by the hum of machinery. Shepard's grip tightened on her rifle. "Stay sharp. No telling what Okeer has waiting for us."

The doors hissed open, revealing a cavernous space filled with gleaming equipment and towering tanks. And there, in the center, stood Okeer himself, a massive krogan with an unsettling gleam in his eyes.

"Commander Shepard," he rumbled. "I wondered when you'd arrive. Come to marvel at the pinnacle of krogan evolution?"

Shepard leveled her rifle at him, jaw clenched. "I came to recruit you for a mission, not admire your science experiments."

Okeer waved a dismissive hand. "My work is far more important than your petty human squabbles. This," he gestured to the tank behind him, where a massive krogan floated in viscous fluid, "is the future of our species. The perfect soldier, free from the genophage's curse."

Zaeed growled, the sound gravely and menacing. "Enough talk. You're coming with us, whether you like it or not."

The warlord chuckled, a grating sound like gravel underfoot. "Am I? And what will you do if I refuse?"

Mordin's blunt, quick rapid response stating the obvious, "Warning Commander. Krogan seems to be growing bold and threatening. Krogan may have grown hysteric. Immediate action advised."

...when a sudden, shrill alarm pierced the air. Red lights flashed along the walls as a computerized voice blared, "Warning: Containment breach imminent. Evacuate immediately."

Okeer's eyes widened in fury. "No! They wouldn't dare!" He whirled back to his console, fingers flying across the keys. "That damned Blue Suns captain! She's trying to poison my creation before it can even draw first breath!"

Shepard lowered her weapon slightly, brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

The krogan scientist snarled, "Gases, toxins, they're flooding the room through the ventilation system. If I can't stop it..." His gaze locked onto Shepard, desperation etched into every line of his weathered face. "Commander, if you and your crew can eliminate these mercenary scum, I swear on the graves of my ancestors that I will join your cause. But you must hurry, before it's too late!"

Brutus's nostrils flared, catching the first acrid hints of the deadly chemicals seeping into the room. "Shepard, we need to move. Now."

The commander hesitated for a heartbeat, her instincts warring with the urgency of their mission. Then, with a curt nod, she turned to her squad. "You heard the man. Let's take out those mercs and secure this facility. Okeer, do what you can to keep that krogan safe. We'll be back."

As they raced back out into the fray, Shepard's mind raced. They had to end this quickly, before the Blue Suns could complete their sabotage. She signaled her team to fan out, seeking cover among the rubble and rusted structures.

The mercenaries had regrouped, their numbers bolstered by the arrival of reinforcements. Gunfire erupted from all sides, mass accelerator rounds whizzing past Shepard's helmet as she dove behind a low wall. Beside her, Brutus let out a roar of challenge, his shotgun blazing as he charged forward.

Biotics flared to life, the air shimmering with dark energy as Shepard's team unleashed their powers. Garrus, perched atop a nearby tower, picked off targets with ruthless efficiency, his sniper rifle cracking out a staccato rhythm.

Yet even as the Blue Suns' ranks thinned, a new threat emerged. A towering, blond woman in heavy armor strode onto the battlefield, a cruel smile playing across her lips. "You think you've won?" she called out, her voice amplified by her suit's external speakers. "Think again."

With a flick of her wrist, she activated a control on her omni-tool. Across the compound, the sounds of shattering glass and splintering metal heralded the release of Okeer's failed experiments. Enraged krogan, twisted by genetic manipulation, burst from their holding pens and charged toward Shepard's team.

The commander gritted her teeth, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. They were caught between the mercenaries' guns and the raw, unrestrained fury of the krogan. And if that wasn't enough, the ground suddenly shook beneath their feet as a massive shape lumbered into view.

A YMIR heavy mech, its armored plating gleaming in the harsh sunlight, raised its arm-mounted cannons and opened fire. Rockets streaked toward Shepard's position, forcing her to leap aside as the wall behind her exploded in a shower of dust and debris.

She rolled to her feet, shouting orders over the comm. "Concentrate fire on that mech! Brutus, Zaeed, keep those krogan off our backs! Miranda, we need your biotics to keep that captain occupied!"

As her team scrambled to obey, Shepard raised her own rifle and took aim at the mech's optics. They had to end this, and fast, before Okeer's creation, and their only hope of stopping the Collectors, was lost forever.

Brutus let out a guttural growl as he led his team directly into the path of the charging krogan. His enhanced reflexes allowed him to sidestep a swinging fist, the air whooshing past his face as he narrowly avoided the blow. With a snarl, he brought his shotgun to bear and fired point-blank into the krogan's chest, the heavy rounds tearing through armor and flesh alike.

Behind him, Zaeed's voice crackled over the comm, "I've fought krogan before, but never this many at once. This is gonna be a hell of a fight, even for us."

Miranda's cool, focused reply followed, "Stay sharp and stick to the plan. We can do this."

Brutus nodded, his yellow-violet eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield. The krogan were closing in, their bloodlust palpable in the air. He knew they had to be smart about this. Brute force alone wouldn't be enough this time.

"Miranda," he barked, his deep voice carrying over the din of battle, "use Overload to keep those shields off. I'll draw their attention and take them down one by one, Zaeed! use concusive shot to knock them off balance."

With that, Brutus launched himself into the fray, his powerful legs propelling him forward with inhuman speed. He wove between the krogan, firing his shotgun and using his claws to rend flesh when they got too close. The smell of blood and sweat filled his nostrils, the thrill of battle singing in his veins.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Zaeed blast a krogan off his feet, the explosive discharge causing the warrior to stumble to get up. Miranda followed up with a biotic warp, The guttural noise of the krogan torn to shreds by the power was heard.

They fell into a rhythm, working together with the kind of seamless efficiency that only came from hard-won experience. But even as they whittled down the krogan's numbers, Brutus knew they were on borrowed time. Shepard and her team were still locked in a deadly dance with the YMIR mech, and every second counted.

He redoubled his efforts, his muscles burning with exertion as he pushed himself harder, faster. They had to end this now, before it was too late. Before everything they'd fought for was lost.

Shepard dove behind a low wall as another salvo of rockets streaked overhead, the heat of the explosions washing over her like a physical force. Beside her, Garrus and Mordin returned fire, their weapons chipping away at the mech's thick armor.

"We need to find a weak point," Shepard shouted over the cacophony of battle. "Mordin, any ideas?"

The salarian scientist ducked as a hail of bullets stitched a line across the top of their cover. "Armor plating weakest at joints, around optics," he replied rapidly. "Concentrated fire may cause structural damage, force mech to expose vulnerable systems."

Shepard nodded, a plan forming in her mind. "Garrus, focus on the optics. Mordin and I will keep its attention divided."

The turian sniper flashed her a grim smile. "Just like old times, Shepard."

As one, they rose from cover, their weapons blazing. Garrus's sniper rifle cracked like thunder, the high-caliber rounds slamming into the mech's optics and sending spiderwebs of cracks spreading across the reinforced glass. Shepard and Mordin poured fire into its joints, the constant barrage causing the mech to stagger and lurch.

But it wasn't enough. The mech's armor was too thick, its weapons too powerful. They needed something more, something to tip the balance in their favor.

Shepard's gaze fell on the fuel tanks scattered around the compound, and a plan took shape in her mind. If they could lure the mech closer, maybe they could-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening roar as One of the krogan, its eyes ablaze with unbridled fury, broke through Brutus's defensive line and charged straight for Shepard and her team. Time seemed to slow down as Shepard activated her adrenaline rush and raised her rifle, but it was too late. The krogan closed in too quickly.

But then, in a blur of dark fur and metal, Brutus came to their rescue. With an thunderous tackle, he slammed into the charging krogan, his massive claws tearing at its throat as they tumbled to the ground in a vicious struggle.

Shepard tore her gaze away from the chaotic scene, forcing herself to focus on the mission at hand. Despite the sacrifice Brutus had made to protect them, she refused to let it be in vain. She gritted her teeth and prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Get ready to move," she barked into the comm. "We're going to give that mech a little surprise."

Shepard's team moved with practiced efficiency, Garrus and Mordin taking up positions on either side of the fuel tanks while Shepard drew the mech's fire. The air crackled with the heat of the mech's weapons, each near-miss sending shivers down Shepard's spine.

The cacophony of grunts and snarls filled her ears as Brutus clashed with the relentless krogan, their battle a raw display of sheer desperation that sent shivers down her spine. In the midst of this primal struggle, she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on fear that threatened to consume her. With gritted teeth, she urged herself to focus on the present moment.

"Now!" she cried out, swiftly seeking refuge as Garrus and Mordin unleashed a barrage of firepower upon the vulnerable fuel tanks. The resulting explosion reverberated through the air like a thunderous symphony of destruction, engulfing everything in blistering heat and piercing shrapnel. The mech reeled from the impact, its wavering shields faltering under the relentless assault.

Shepard was on her feet in an instant, her rifle barking as she poured round after round into the mech's exposed circuitry. Beside her, Garrus and Mordin did the same, their weapons chewing through the mech's armor like paper.

For a moment, it seemed like it might not be enough. The mech's arms flailed, its weapons still spitting deadly fire even as it staggered and reeled. But then, with a final, convulsive shudder, it toppled to the ground, sparks and smoke pouring from its ruined frame.

Shepard took a quick moment to catch her breath as a triumphant roar echoed through the air. She turned to see Brutus, his fur matted with blood and his eyes burning with feral intensity, standing over the defeated krogan.

Their gazes locked for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them, a recognition of the battle they had just fought, the risks they had taken. Then Brutus sprang into action, heading towards Okeer's lab with a sense of urgency that made Shepard's heart race.

She followed closely behind, her team falling in step beside her as they made their way through the carnage of the battlefield. The smell of blood and smoke hung thick in the air, the ground littered with bodies of fallen mercenaries and krogan.

But when they reached the lab, it was to find a scene of utter devastation. The room was filled with a choking haze of poison gas, the consoles sparking and sputtering as they struggled to maintain life support. And there, slumped beside a flickering terminal, was Okeer's lifeless body.

Shepard felt a surge of anger and frustration as she stared at the fallen warlord. All this, for nothing. All the fighting, all the risks they'd taken, and they'd still failed to secure their objective.

But then her gaze fell on the console beside Okeer's body, and the anger faded, replaced by a grim sense of determination. There, still intact despite the chaos, was the tank containing Okeer's prized creation, a perfect krogan warrior, genetically engineered to be the ultimate soldier, free of the genophage.

Shepard's jaw tightened as she made her decision. She might not have been able to save Okeer, but she'd be damned if she let his work go to waste. One way or another, she was going to see this through.

"Brutus, help me get this tank on board the Normandy," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "We're taking it with us."

Brutus nodded, his expression unreadable as he moved to assist. Together, they hauled the heavy tank through the wreckage of the lab, their steps dogged by the weight of the choices they'd made, the battles still to come.

But as they emerged into the harsh light of Korlus's sun, Shepard felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. They might have lost Okeer, but they'd gained something else, a new ally, a new weapon in the fight against the Collectors.

And with Brutus by her side, she knew they'd face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same tenacity and determination that had brought them this far. Together, they were unstoppable.

The hiss of the pod's seal breaking shattered the tense silence of the cargo hold. Shepard's heart raced as the front panel slid open, birthing fluids gushing out in a viscous wave. From within the clouded liquid, a massive form pitched forward and collapsed to its knees with a resounding thud.

Brutus tensed, clawed hands flexing at his sides as the krogan's heaving coughs echoed through the chamber. Shepard's hand twitched toward her pistol, a lifetime of battlefield instincts screaming danger.

The newborn warrior's eyes snapped open, blazing with confusion and fury. In a flash of movement too fast to follow, he lunged at Brutus with a guttural roar.

The newborn krogan slammed into Brutus with the force of a freight train, driving him back against the bulkhead. Brutus snarled, his fangs bared as he grappled with the enraged warrior. Corded muscles strained beneath his armor as he fought to subdue the krogan's flailing limbs.

"Dammit, Shepard!" Brutus shouted, his biotics flaring to life around his claws. "I told you this was a bad idea for me!"

But Shepard held up a hand, her eyes locked on the struggling figures. "Wait," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let's see how this plays out, Krogan's respect power and strength. Try to gain that from him!."

The krogan's fists pummeled Brutus's chest and face, each blow landing with a sickening crunch. But Brutus weathered the assault, his regenerative abilities already knitting flesh and bone back together. With a roar of defiance, he surged forward, slamming the krogan back against the pod.

The metal buckled and groaned under the impact, but the krogan barely seemed to notice. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrashed against Brutus's iron grip.

"I am pure krogan!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. "You are weak! Unworthy!"

Brutus tightened his grip on the raging krogan, claws digging into thick hide as he slammed him against the bulkhead again. The metal screeched in protest under the immense force.

Brutus growled, his yellow-violet eyes flashing with primal fury as he struggled to pin the krogan's flailing limbs."Listen up, you ignorant whelp," Brutus snarled, fangs bared inches from the krogan's face. "I've gutted varren that put up more of a fight than you. You are nothing but a pup, wet behind the ears!"

The krogan's eyes blazed with fury, muscles bulging as he strained against Brutus's hold. For a moment, it seemed he might submit, might acknowledge Brutus's dominance. But then his gaze hardened, and with a bellow of defiance, he headbutted Brutus square in the face.

Brutus reeled back, blood spurting from his shattered snout. The krogan seized the opening, driving a knee into Brutus's groin and shoving him away. Brutus stumbled, his vision swimming as he fought to stay upright.

With a surge of biotic power, Brutus slammed the krogan against the bulkhead again, the metal denting under the force. The krogan roared in pain and rage, his struggles intensifying. But Brutus held fast, his claws digging into the krogan's thick hide.

"You think you know strength? You know nothing!" Brutus growled, his fangs inches from the krogan's face. "True strength comes from within, from the trials and battles that shape us. You haven't even begun to live!"

"I am KROGAN," the krogan ground out, blood seeping from his mouth. "Tank-bred by the warlord Okeer. I know no fear, no weakness. I am krogan!" He said again, reaffirming his statement.

Brutus snorted derisively. "You don't know shit, pup. Real strength isn't just in the genetic makeup. It's in the living, the fighting, the bleeding." He shoved Grunt back roughly. "You want that strength? Then you follow Shepard."

Grunt's head swiveled to regard the commander, eyes narrowed calculatingly. "This human is a great warrior? Worthy to command me?"

Shepard stepped forward, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Listen up, krogan. I am Commander Shepard, and I don't have time for your posturing bullshit. I brought you onto my ship because I saw potential in you. But if you can't get your head out of your ass and fall in line, I will personally toss you out the airlock."

The krogan's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of respect passing over his brutish features. "You... dare to command me? To challenge my strength?"

Shepard's jaw tightened. "Damn right I do. I've faced down threats that would make your quad shrivel up and fall off. Geth, The Reapers, the Collectors, they're coming for us all. I handpicked this crew, the best of the best, to take on a threat that endangers the entire galaxy. And that includes Brutus."

She gestured to the hulking werewolf, still restraining the newborn krogan. "He's one of the most fearsome warriors I've ever fought beside. His strength and savagery in battle are unmatched. If he thinks you need to shape up and follow my lead, you'd be wise to step in-line, whelp."

Grunt's icy blue eyes darted between Shepard and Brutus, processing this new information. Slowly, grudgingly, he relaxed in Brutus's grip, the fight draining out of him.

"I…will follow your lead, Shepard," he rumbled, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. "If you are as great a warrior as this one says, then your strength is worthy of a true krogan, just don't expect me to be buddy-buddy with the rest of the crew, I'm here to fight."

Brutus released him with a warning growl and Grunt straightened to his full imposing height.

Shepard met his gaze unflinchingly. "Fighting is exactly what I'm offering you. A chance to test your strength against the most dangerous enemies in the galaxy."

That caught the krogan's attention. He leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm listening, Shepard."

"We're on a mission to stop the Collectors," Shepard explained, her voice ringing with conviction. "They've been abducting entire human colonies, and we're going to put an end to it. But there's a good chance this might be a one way trip. We need the best of the best."

The krogan's lips pulled back in a fierce grin. "A suicide mission? Now you're speaking my language."

Brutus watched the exchange silently, his keen senses attuned to every shift in the krogan's posture. The tension in his muscles betrayed his readiness to intervene if necessary, but Shepard seemed to be holding her own.

"So, you'll join us?" Shepard asked, making sure he was onboard. allowing a note of hope to creep into her voice.

The krogan nodded, a decisive jerk of his head. "As long as you point me towards the strongest enemies, I'll fight for you, Shepard."

Relief washed over Shepard, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Glad to have you on board. What's your name, krogan?"

He blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I… don't have one, Okeer thought a name was unimportant in the tanks details."

Brutus chimed in, his nose now already healed from the broken state it was in. "Having no designated name isn't so bad, It just means that your one more step towards actually living."

Shepard considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Grunt. That's what we'll call you for now."

"Grunt," the krogan repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. "I like it."

With that, Grunt turned and lumbered away, presumably to find a place to settle in. Shepard watched him go, a mix of satisfaction and trepidation churning in her gut. She glanced over at Brutus, who met her gaze with a wry quirk of his lips.

"You sure know how to pick them, Shepard," he rumbled, amusement coloring his tone.

Shepard chuckled, the sound tinged with weariness. "Let's just hope I didn't bite off more than we can chew."

Later, in the quiet of her cabin, Shepard found herself pacing restlessly. The events of the day weighed heavily on her mind, and she found herself craving a friendly ear. Almost without conscious thought, she found herself opening a comm channel.

"Brutus? You busy?"

His deep, familiar voice crackled over the line. "For you, Shepard? Never."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Come up to my cabin? I could use some company."

"On my way."

Minutes later, the door hissed open, admitting Brutus's imposing form. Shepard felt some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders at the sight of him, a reaction that was becoming increasingly common in his presence.

Brutus settled himself on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping under his considerable weight. Shepard joined him, their shoulders brushing companionably.

Brutus's closeness was an immediate balm to Shepard's frayed nerves. His physical presence alone radiated a steady strength and reassurance that she desperately needed after the chaos of their mission on Korlus. She leaned into him slightly, savoring the solid warmth of his body against hers.

"Quite the day, huh?" she said wryly, glancing up at him.

Brutus grunted in agreement. "That's putting it mildly. Between the Blue Suns, Okeer's pet project, and our new baby krogan, I'd say we've had our hands full."

Shepard sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Tell me about it. I just keep thinking...what if I made the wrong call? Bringing an unknown like Grunt on board, especially after what happened with Okeer..."

She trailed off, doubt creeping into her voice. Brutus shifted, turning to face her more fully. His yellow-violet eyes were intense but understanding as they met hers.

"You made the best choice you could with the information you had," he rumbled reassuringly. "That's all any of us can do. And for what it's worth, I think Grunt will be a valuable asset. Kid's got a quad, that's for sure."

Shepard chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of her cabin. "You're right, as usual. I just hope Grunt can channel that aggression into something productive. The last thing we need is a rampaging krogan tearing up my ship."

Brutus's lips quirked in a wry smile. "I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he stays in line. Besides, I think the kid respects strength. He may be a handful, but he'll follow your lead."

As Shepard leaned into Brutus, his fur felt like a plush blanket, each strand soft and velvety to the touch. It had a slight cushion to it. Each strand perfectly groomed and silky, the tips brushing against her skin like a gentle caress. It carried the faint hint of earthiness, the scent of rich soil and rugged terrain, relishing the solid comfort of his presence. She couldn't help but marvel at the way he always seemed to know just what to say to ease her doubts and bolster her resolve. It was a rare gift, one she'd come to value more than she cared to admit.

"What would I do without you, Brutus?" she murmured, half to herself.

Brutus turned his head, his breath warm against her hair as he spoke. "Let's hope you never have to find out."

There was a roughness to his voice, a raw edge of emotion that sent a shiver down Shepard's spine. She tilted her face up to his, their noses nearly brushing. This close, she could make out every detail of his wolfish features, from the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin and fur, to the burning intensity of his gaze.

In a moment of comfortable silence, Shepard's hand found its way to Brutus's, resting atop it almost without thought. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them at the contact, and Shepard felt her cheeks heat.

with a blossoming warmth that had nothing to do with the battle earlier. Brutus's hand was rough, calloused from years of combat, but the fur still left softness to enjoy, his touch was gentle as it enveloped hers. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, Shepard allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of what it might be like to explore the tension that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface with Brutus.

"When did this start feeling so natural?" she wondered, her heart doing a curious little flip in her chest.

As the evening wore on, Shepard found herself stifling a yawn. Brutus, ever observant, took this as his cue to leave.

Shepard stood with him, her movements languid and reluctant. "Thanks for coming up. I needed this." Brutus nodded, his eyes holding hers in a gaze that was almost palpable. "Anytime, Shepard."

Before he could turn to leave, Shepard reached out, her fingers skimming over the back of his hand, a fleeting touch, but laden with unspoken words. She wasn't quite ready for the connection to be severed; it was as if some primal part of her craved the electricity of his presence. "Stay?," she breathed, the single word hanging between them like a dare.

Brutus turned his head ever so slightly, "I think I have enough experience to predict where this would be heading~" He softened his K9 features, before softly brushing her hair back, "You should get some rest Shepard… It's been a long week. But don't worry, I read you. There's always a tomorrow~"

With a faint, almost reluctant nod, Shepard conceded to the moment, her eyes betraying the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within. "Tomorrow," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brutus reached out almost to quick after her disheartened, griping her shoulders ever so gently with his massive, furry hands. "That look is unbecoming of you commander~ You should know that the sweetest fruit needs patience~." Brutus leaned forward and licked her ear, before letting out a deep chuckle.

Shepard's breath hitched as she felt Brutus's tongue flicking at the sensitive inner flesh of her ear. Her heart pounded in her chest as he pulled back, his face tightening into a wolfish smirk that made her stomach cartwheel. "I guess we'll see," she managed to croak out. The silence stretched between them, palpable and electric. before Brutus finally stepped away, releasing Shepard from the intensity of his grasp. The space where his hands had been seemed suddenly cold, and Shepard silently cursed the part of her that already missed the heat.

"Get some sleep, Commander," Brutus said, voice low and gruff. "Tomorrow's another day to howl at the stars."

With that, he turned and left Shepard's quarters, his heavy footsteps gradually fading into the hum of the Normandys corridors. Alone now, Shepard sighed and glanced around her quiet room. The charged atmosphere lingered like a phantom touch, teasing at her senses and leaving her restless.

Shepard's quarters felt colder now, emptier somehow. It was as if Brutus's departure had siphoned away some vital warmth that she hadn't realized she'd been basking in. Shaking off the clinging threads of longing and fatigue, Shepard moved towards her bed.

There was work to be done tomorrow, more battles to fight, more lives to save. The galaxy wouldn't pause for their unresolved tensions or unspoken desires. But as sleep finally claimed her, it was not the cold expanse of space that filled her dreams but the heat of Brutus's gaze and the promise of a tomorrow yet to come.

Chapter Text

"Damn contraption," Brutus growled, his massive paw fumbling with the delicate controls of the recording device. The dim blue light of the omni-tool flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows across his lupine features. After a few more frustrated attempts, a satisfying beep signaled the start of the recording.

Brutus cleared his throat, the sound a low rumble that reverberated through the cramped quarters of his cabin aboard the Normandy SR-2. "Captain's log, stardate... ah, to hell with it. It's 2185 CE, for those keeping track."

He paused, yellow eyes with violet flecks darting around the room as if searching for the right words. When he spoke again, his gravelly voice had softened, taking on an almost wistful tone.

"It's... it's been a while, old friend. I know I've been away for far too long. The galaxy's a big place, and it has a way of sweeping you up in its chaos." Brutus's massive form shifted, the reinforced chair creaking under his weight. "I owe you an apology for the silence. It's not that I forgot - how could I? It's just... well, you know how it is. One day you're leading a crack team of mercs, the next you're running ops with a Spectre trying to save the whole damn galaxy."

The werewolf's ears twitched, picking up the faint hum of the ship's engines. "I've seen things that would make even the toughest Krogan battlemaster's plates rattle. Fought enemies that make the nightmares of my past look like pyjak droppings. But through it all, I've carried the memory of the brigade with me. Your faces, your voices - they're what keep me going when the odds seem insurmountable."

Brutus leaned back, his fur brushing against the cool metal of the cabin wall. "I suppose I should fill you in on what's happened since... Hell.. When was the last time I updated y’all?.. A year? 2?. well, doesn’t matter now” He shifted.

Brutus's ears flattened against his skull, a visible sign of his shame. "I... I owe you all more than just an update. I owe you an apology. A real one." He inhaled deeply, the scent of gun oil and recycled air filling his sensitive nostrils.

"When I started these logs, it was supposed to be a way to keep your memories alive, to honor what we had. But somewhere along the way, I... I failed you. Again." His massive paw clenched into a fist, claws digging into his palm. "Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before I knew it, years had passed. The gaps between entries grew longer, and with each silence, it became harder to come back."

The werewolf's gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet even the imaginary eyes of his fallen comrades. "I told myself I was busy, that there was always another mission, another crisis to handle. But the truth is, I was running. Running from the pain, from the guilt of being the one who survived."

Brutus's voice cracked, a sound so vulnerable it seemed out of place coming from such an imposing figure. "I started to wonder what the point of it all was. You were gone, and no amount of talking into this damn machine was going to bring you back. The galaxy had moved on, and I was just... a relic. A warrior without a war, a wild dog without a pack."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. The silence in the cabin was broken only by the soft whir of the ship's life support systems. "But that's no excuse. You deserved better from me. You deserved to be remembered, to have your stories told. Instead, I let the chaos of this new life sweep me away, burying your memories under layers of new battles and new faces."

Brutus leaned forward, his massive frame hunched over as if carrying an invisible weight. "I became what I always feared, a stray, untethered from my past, from my purpose. I let myself forget, because remembering... remembering hurt too damn much."

His voice softened, barely above a whisper now. "But I realize now that the pain of remembering is nothing compared to the emptiness of forgetting. You were my family, my pack. And I've done you a disservice by trying to leave that behind."

Brutus's claws scraped against the metal floor as he shifted uncomfortably. "But that's not the worst of it," he growled, shame coloring his voice. "When I did record... I betrayed the truth. I twisted our stories, our memories, into something they weren't."

He let out a heavy sigh, his massive chest heaving. "I made Shepard out to be some damsel in distress, always needing rescue. But that's not who they are. Shepard's a force of nature, a leader who's dragged us all through hell and back. They don't need saving - they're the one doing the saving."

Brutus's ears flattened further, almost disappearing into his thick fur. "And me? I painted myself as some kind of unstoppable hero, a lone wolf standing against the tide. What a load of varren shit." He spat the words out, disgust evident in his tone. "There are no heroes in war, just survivors and the dead. And I'm no hero."

The werewolf's yellow-violet eyes glazed over, lost in painful memories. "I cheapened our experiences, turned them into some kind of pulp fiction adventure. The blood, the fear, the loss - I glossed over it all. Made it seem like we were invincible, like death was just an inconvenience."

Brutus's massive paw slammed down on the nearby desk, causing the various datapads and equipment to rattle. "But we weren't invincible, were we? We bled, we suffered, we died. And those who survived... we carry the scars, inside and out."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What was supposed to be an honest telling of our stories, in all their glory and horror, somehow turned generic, lifeless. I stripped away the very essence of what made our experiences real, what made them matter."

Brutus's claws dug into the armrests of his chair, leaving deep gouges in the metal. "I did you all a disservice. I turned our struggles, our triumphs, our losses into nothing more than cheap entertainment. And for that, I can never truly apologize enough."

The werewolf's eyes refocused, a new determination shining in their depths. "But I can try to make it right. From now on, no more bullshit. No more sanitized versions of events. I'll tell it like it was - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because that's what you all deserve. That's what our story deserves."

The werewolf straightened up, a newfound determination gleaming in his eyes. "So here I am, tail between my legs, asking for forgiveness. I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I swear on whatever honor I have left, I won't abandon this again. Your stories, our stories, deserve to be told. And I'll be damned if I let my own weakness stop me from doing that."

"So If your ghosts are still with me, reading this story, our story. than I owe you this. THANK YOU"

Brutus took a deep breath, his massive chest rising and falling. "So... where do I even begin? I guess the best place to start is where I left off. I guess that means our next entry is going to be her huh~ The Biotic Bitch, and my first recruit…"

Chapter Text

The thermal clip clicked into place with a satisfying metallic snap, echoing in the confined space of the Normandy's armory. Brutus ran his massive clawed hands over the barrel of his M-22 Eviscerator, checking for imperfections with the practiced precision of someone who understood that a weapon's reliability often meant the difference between life and death. The scent of gun oil and metal permeated his sensitive nostrils, a comforting fragrance that reminded him of simpler days when the Wolf Brigade still roamed the galaxy intact.

He lifted the shotgun, testing its weight. Perfect. Balanced. Lethal. The weapon felt like an extension of himself, a metallic appendage designed for one purpose. Brutus loaded another thermal clip, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the task. His hybrid armor lay partly disassembled on the workbench beside him, the gun-metal gray plates gleaming under the harsh lights.

"Brutus," EDI's synthesized voice chimed through the armory's speakers, pulling him from his reverie. "I have information regarding your upcoming mission."

The werewolf's ears twitched, acknowledging the AI's presence without looking up. "Go ahead, EDI."

A blue holographic orb materialized at the terminal nearby, pulsing gently as EDI spoke. "Commander Shepard requests your presence for an extraction mission. You are to rendezvous with Shepard, Grunt, and Garrus by the airlock near the cockpit in fifteen minutes."

Brutus slotted the final thermal clip into his belt pouch. "Target?"

"A prison facility designated 'Purgatory.' It is a mobile penal station operated by the Blue Suns mercenary group," EDI explained, her voice exhibiting the efficient cadence of complex algorithms processing information. "Your mission is to extract an individual code-named 'Subject Zero,' also known as 'Jack.' Intelligence suggests this subject is potentially the most powerful human biotic ever documented."

The werewolf's ears perked up with interest. "Most powerful biotic? That's a bold claim."

"Cerberus intelligence reports indicate Subject Zero was part of an extensive biotic enhancement program during early childhood development," EDI continued. "The subject has demonstrated abilities that exceed normal human biotic limitations."

Brutus nodded, reaching for the chest piece of his armor. As his claws clicked against the metal, a flash of electric blue caught his peripheral vision, a momentary flicker, like biotic energy crackling in the air. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

It wasn't real. Just a phantom. A memory.

But it was enough to crack the dam he'd built around his thoughts. Suddenly, he wasn't in the Normandy's armory anymore. He was back on Omega, three years earlier, watching as Micah, just a pup really, barely nineteen, practiced controlling his biotic field in the Illangs makeshift training room.

"Captain! Look at this!" The boy's voice echoed with such clarity that Brutus nearly turned to respond. Micah had been laughing, his youthful face alight with pride as azure energy danced around his fingertips, forming intricate patterns in the air. "I've been practicing that move you showed me."

The memory was so vivid that Brutus could smell the metallic tang of eezo, and coconut that always clung to the young biotic, could hear the hum of his amp working overtime. Micah had been their miracle find, a human orphan with L3 implants who'd survived on his own until the Brigade took him in. Raw talent and relentless optimism packaged in a lanky frame that hadn't yet filled out.

"Captain/Brutus? Are you functioning/doing optimally/OK?" Micah and EDI's voice Overlapped, muffled by the ringing in Brutus's ears.

His claws dug into the workbench, leaving deep gouges in the metal as another memory crashed through, the last mission. 4 years ago, Outpost Z31C was a deep underground facility on Terious VII. The galaxy tends to harbour horrors that were never meant for the eyes of man.

Micah lying face-up on the frost covered metal ground, eyes still open but seeing nothing. The brilliant blue of his biotic barrier flickering and dying like a star going nova. Blood, so much blood pooling beneath him, steam rising from the crimson puddle in the Outpost's frigid atmosphere. The boy's amp had overloaded, the resulting neural feedback catastrophic.

Brutus had held him as the life drained away, feeling the boy's heartbeat stutter and fade beneath his massive paw. The last of Micah's biotic energy had discharged in one final, futile pulse before dissipating into nothingness.

"I should have been faster," Brutus growled, the words emerging as a pained rumble from deep in his chest. "Should have seen the signs of betrayal."

The armory snapped back into focus around him, the memory receding like a tide pulling back from shore, leaving only wreckage behind. Brutus realized he was breathing heavily, his claws still embedded in the workbench.

"Brutus, your vital signs indicate elevated stress levels," EDI's voice cut through the fog of memory. "Should I alert Dr. Chakwas?"

"No," Brutus growled, forcing his breathing to steady. He retracted his claws from the metal, leaving deep gouges that would need repair. "Just... ghosts, EDI. Nothing more."

He resumed donning his armor with mechanical precision, each piece clicking into place like the segments of his fractured psyche, a protective shell against both physical and emotional threats. The familiar weight settled on his massive frame, grounding him in the present. "Continue."

"Available data is limited but consistent on this point. Subject Zero has a documented history of extreme violence and should be approached with caution." EDI's orb pulsed brighter as she continued, "Cerberus has already negotiated for the prisoner's release. In theory, this should be a simple extraction."

Brutus snorted, revealing sharp canines. "Nothing's ever simple when Cerberus is involved."

"A statistically sound observation," EDI responded. "The Normandy will dock with Purgatory in approximately twenty-five minutes. Payment has allegedly been processed, but I recommend remaining vigilant."

The werewolf nodded, his dark gray fur catching the light. "Anything else I should know?"

"Prison records indicate that Jack has been kept in cryostasis between transport operations. The subject's psychological profile suggests potential hostility upon awakening."

"Understood," Brutus replied, holstering his shotgun and beginning to reassemble the rest of his armor. "Thanks, EDI."

The AI's orb flickered briefly, an algorithmic equivalent of confusion. "Your expression of gratitude is unnecessary. I am merely fulfilling my programmed function to provide tactical information."

Brutus paused, massive gauntlet in hand. His eyes fixed on EDI's holographic representation. "You're more than your programming, EDI. You analyze, predict, adapt. You deserve acknowledgment for that."

"I am an artificial intelligence. I do not require emotional validation," EDI stated, though her tone contained a hint of something almost like curiosity.

The werewolf adjusted his armor, his broad shoulders rising in a shrug. "Perhaps not. Yet, I was taught to express gratitude to anyone who lends me a hand, be they human, or code."

EDI was silent for a moment, an eternity in computational terms. "An interesting perspective. Most organic beings view artificial intelligence as tools rather than entities deserving of social courtesies."

"Most organics haven't seen what I've seen," Brutus replied, his voice dropping lower. "Life comes in many forms. Respect shouldn't be limited by physical composition."

"I will... process this viewpoint," EDI said, her voice modulating slightly. "It is outside my typical interaction parameters."

Brutus's muzzle formed what might have been interpreted as a smile. "Good. Processing new ideas is how we grow."

EDI's orb pulsed once more before fading. "I will continue monitoring mission parameters. Shepard is expecting you shortly."

As the AI's presence receded, Brutus felt a subtle shift in the air, as if their exchange had altered something fundamental in their relationship. He finished securing his armor, each piece locking into place with practiced efficiency. The distinctive poncho cloak bearing the Illang insignia was the final touch, a reminder of what he had lost and what he continued to fight for.

He made his way through the ship's corridors, nodding to crew members who had grown accustomed to his imposing presence. The Normandy hummed with pre-mission activity, a symphony of purpose and precision that reminded him of his old command. Different players, same melody.

Near the cockpit, Garrus was running final calibrations on his rifle. The turian looked up as Brutus approached, mandibles clicking in what passed for a smile among his species.

"Ready for another mission disguised as a milk run?" Garrus asked, his dual-toned voice carrying the weight of experience and poorly concealed cynicism.

Brutus leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed over his massive chest. "You know, when I signed up for this gig, I was promised exotic locales, interesting people, and maybe even sexy girls. So far it's been abandoned ships and murderous colonists."

Garrus chuckled, the sound vibrating through his alien throat. "At least this time we're picking up a dangerous criminal with unprecedented biotic abilities. Should liven things up a bit."

"Because what this squad needs is more unpredictable firepower," Brutus remarked dryly. His ears twitched slightly as he studied the turian. "How's the face?"

Garrus unconsciously touched the scarred side of his face, where a gunship's blast had nearly ended his vigilante career on Omega. "Hurts like hell when I laugh. So naturally, Joker's been telling non-stop jokes."

The werewolf snorted. "Scars add character. The ladies will love it."

"Right. Because women across the galaxy are lining up for disfigured turians." Despite his words, there was no bitterness in Garrus's tone, just the gallows humor of a soldier who had seen too much.

"You'd be surprised what some find attractive," Brutus replied, thinking of his own unlikely form. Before Garrus could respond, the distinctive sound of Commander Shepard's footsteps approached from behind.

"Gentlemen," Shepard greeted them, her red hair framing features that seemed lighter, less burdened than they had been after their last mission. Her emerald eyes met Brutus's gaze directly, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Ready to add another potentially unstable member to our collection of misfits?"

Brutus noticed the change immediately. The distractions that would cloud her eyes was gone. Now she was back to the Commander that had recruited him, cocky, cool headed, and a hell of a personality. The conversation in her Cabin had eased her nerves.

"Always room for one more," Brutus replied, maintaining professional distance despite the friendly camaraderie now established. "EDI says this should be a simple pickup."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "And when has anything ever been simple?"

"My point exactly," Garrus interjected. "I've calibrated my rifle with armor-piercing for Blue Suns armor, just in case our hosts decide to renegotiate terms."

Shepard nodded, her smile taking on a sharper edge. "Good thinking. I'm not expecting trouble, but—"

"But trouble is expecting us," Brutus finished her thought, earning a warmer smile that sent a comfortable pressure through his chest.

Heavy footsteps announced Grunt's arrival before the massive krogan came into view. His amber eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement, his scaled skin twitching with anticipation.

"Shepard," Grunt acknowledged, his deep voice reverberating in the confined space. His gaze shifted to Brutus, a predatory smile spreading across his reptilian features. "Wolf. Will there be fighting?"

Brutus exchanged a knowing look with Shepard. "Plan is no. Reality is probably."

This answer seemed to satisfy the tank-bred krogan, who rolled his massive shoulders. "Good. My blood runs hot. Need to kill something."

"Try to contain your enthusiasm until we actually need it," Shepard advised, though her tone held no real admonishment. She understood the krogan's nature better than most.

Joker's voice crackled over the intercom. "Commander, approaching Purgatory now. I've got to say, as far as prison ships go, this one's pretty impressive. Makes me glad I stuck to petty crimes."

"Take us in, Joker," Shepard ordered. "Standard docking procedures."

"Aye aye, Commander. Rolling out the welcome mat for our new psychotic biotic."

As the Normandy slowed its approach to the prison ship, Brutus conducted a final check of his equipment. The M-22 Eviscerator was secured at his back, spare thermal clips distributed throughout his armor's compartments. His claws flexed within his gauntlets, the yellow glow of the integrated tech casting eerie shadows across his fur.

"This should be straightforward," Shepard said, addressing the squad as they assembled by the airlock. "We go in, complete the transaction, and extract Jack. No complications."

Garrus's mandibles twitched in what might have been amusement. "Want to place bets on how long before something explodes?"

"Twenty minutes," Brutus offered without hesitation.

"Ten," Grunt countered, slamming his fists together.

"No quickening the timer Kid." Garrus Called over the hum of the ships docking noise. "Guess that means i get 15."

Shepard shook her head, but the tension around her eyes had softened. "Let's try for no explosions this time. Just a nice, clean prisoner transfer."

The airlock cycled, the hiss of equalizing pressure filling the small space. As the door prepared to open onto Purgatory, Brutus felt the familiar pre-mission calm settle over him, a predator's focus before the hunt. Whatever awaited them on the prison ship, he was ready. The Wolf Brigade might be gone, but its captain still stood, and today, he hunted with a new pack.

The airlock door hissed open, revealing Purgatory's docking bay, a sterile cylinder of brushed metal and reinforced glass that stretched before them like the gullet of some mechanical leviathan. Through the vast observation window to their right, the Normandy hung suspended against the backdrop of infinite stars, its sleek form a stark contrast to the utilitarian brutality of the prison ship. Brutus's nostrils flared, catching the mingled scents of disinfectant, metal, and the unmistakable tang of blood that permeated even the air recyclers.

The docking bay was a testament to function over form, no decorative elements softened its harsh angles, no concessions made to aesthetic concerns. The floor panels rang hollowly beneath their boots, the sound echoing off the curved walls. Overhead, harsh white lights cast everything in an unforgiving glare that eliminated shadows and created the illusion of perpetual vigilance.

Three Blue Suns mercenaries advanced toward them from across the bay, their blue-and-white armor gleaming under the artificial lighting. All turians, they moved with the predatory grace characteristic of their species, though their postures betrayed the casual arrogance that came with unchallenged authority. Their leader, distinguished by additional armor plating and rank insignia, gestured with his rifle.

"That's far enough," he announced, mandibles twitching with barely concealed disdain. "Stand still for weapons check."

Brutus felt Shepard tense beside him, but it was Grunt who rumbled a warning growl from deep within his massive chest.

The lead turian ignored the krogan's display, his eyes fixed on Shepard. "Relinquish your weapons. It's standard procedure."

Brutus stepped forward, his seven-foot frame towering over the mercenary. Even through the filters in their helmets, he could smell their sudden spike of adrenaline—the instinctive fear response his appearance typically triggered. He'd long since learned to use that reaction to his advantage.

"No," he stated, the single word carrying the weight of non-negotiable finality. His eyes narrowed, catching the light in a way that emphasized their predatory nature.

The mercenary's posture stiffened, his rifle shifting slightly upward. "This is a prison vessel, not a pleasure cruise. Nobody keeps weapons aboard Purgatory."

Brutus let a low growl resonate through his chest, just audible enough to register as a threat. "We're not surrendering our arms to a third-rate mercenary outfit with a history of selling prisoners to the highest bidder."

The turian's mandibles clicked in agitation. "These orders come directly from Warden Kuril. Either surrender your weapons or return to your ship."

Garrus shifted his weight, the movement subtle but deliberate, positioning himself for a better line of fire if things deteriorated. "Interesting welcome for customers who've already paid for services."

"You're not customers," the turian shot back. "You're visitors in a maximum-security facility. Protocol is clear."

Brutus took another step forward, putting himself between the mercenaries and his squad. His massive hand rested casually on the grip of his shotgun, not drawing it, but making the possibility unmistakably clear.

"Let me be equally clear," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "We're here on Spectre authority to collect a prisoner your employer has already agreed to release. We will keep our weapons. Any attempt to disarm us will be interpreted as hostile action."

The standoff stretched, neither side willing to back down. The tension in the docking bay thickened, the recycled air seeming to grow heavier by the second. Behind the lead mercenary, his companions shifted uneasily, fingers hovering near trigger guards.

"That's enough, Outpost Six," a new voice cut through the tension, its dual tones carrying the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.

All heads turned toward the far entrance where a turian in custom Blue Suns armor approached. Unlike the standard troops, his armor bore numerous modifications and personal touches, trophies and medals affixed to the pauldrons, scratches that had been preserved rather than repaired, telling the story of battles survived. He wore no helmet, allowing his facial markings to be clearly visible, pale blue patterns against gray plates, intricate and distinctive.

"Stand down," he ordered his men before turning his attention to the Normandy crew. "Commander Shepard. Welcome to Purgatory." His eyes shifted to Brutus, lingering on the Illang insignia emblazoned on his poncho. "And the Wolf of the Wards. Your reputation precedes you. I heard rather interesting details about you from other Blue-Sun chapters"

Shepard stepped forward, her posture relaxed but alert. "Warden Kuril, I presume?"

The turian inclined his head, mandibles flaring in what might have been a smile. "Correct. I apologize for my men's insistence, but security is necessarily tight aboard Purgatory. We house only the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy."

"We're here for Subject Zero," Shepard stated plainly. "Your people have been paid."

Kuril's eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed, Cerberus has been quite generous. However," he gestured toward their weapons, "our security protocols are not negotiable. All weapons must be relinquished before proceeding further into the facility."

Brutus crossed his arms, the movement causing his armor to click ominously. "Not happening, Warden. Your 'security protocols' don't inspire confidence when your facility doubles as a slave trading post."

The warden's mandibles tightened against his face, the only sign that the accusation had struck a nerve. "You've been misinformed. Purgatory is a state-of-the-art correctional facility that occasionally transfers prisoners to interested parties. The transactions are strictly monitored."

"Call it what you want," Brutus growled. "We're keeping our weapons."

Grunt shifted impatiently behind them, his massive form vibrating with barely contained aggression. "Can we just kill them and find Jack ourselves?"

Kuril assessed the krogan with the calculating gaze of someone weighing potential profits against immediate risks. His eyes flicked between the four armed visitors, mentally calculating odds that clearly didn't favor his men.

After a moment that stretched like tension wire, the warden's mandibles relaxed. "Very well. I suppose exceptions can be made for Cerberus operatives and a Council Spectre." He turned to his guards. "Stand down. Our outfitting is more than adequate to handle four armed guests, should the need arise."

The guards reluctantly lowered their weapons, though their postures remained alert. Shepard nodded once, acknowledging the concession without expressing gratitude.

"Take us to Jack," she said. "We don't intend to overstay our welcome."

Kuril gestured toward the interior door. "This way. I'll give you a brief tour of our operation as we proceed to Out-processing. Purgatory houses thousands of criminals, many of whom would gladly kill you on sight. I think you'll appreciate the security measures we've implemented."

As they followed Kuril through the doorway, Brutus caught Garrus's eye. The turian's mandibles twitched in silent communication, neither of them trusted the warden's sudden cooperation. Brutus gave an almost imperceptible nod. Stay alert. This isn't over.

The corridor beyond opened into a massive central chamber that served as the prison's primary containment area. The space was dominated by an automated system of mechanical arms that moved modular cells with precision and efficiency. Each cell, a self-contained pod roughly the size of a small room—was suspended from rails that ran along the ceiling. The arms transported them through the facility like cargo containers in a warehouse.

Kuril gestured toward the operation with obvious pride. "As you can see, each cell is a complete, self-contained environment. Temperature, atmosphere, even gravity can be modified to suit the prisoner's species."

"Or to torture them," Brutus observed, watching as a cell containing what appeared to be a batarian was moved from one level to another. The prisoner's face was just visible through a small viewing panel, gaunt, eyes hollow from long confinement.

Kuril dismissed the comment with a wave. "We maintain humane conditions. But more importantly, this system offers unparalleled security. Each cell can be ejected from the station in case of emergency."

"Ejected?" Shepard asked, her voice neutral despite the implication.

The warden nodded. "Space is an excellent deterrent to misbehavior. One push of a button, and a troublesome inmate becomes a cloud of frozen debris. We've only had to employ the measure three times in our operational history."

Brutus's ears flattened against his skull, disgust evident in the curl of his lip. "Let's move on. I've seen enough of your 'humane conditions.'"

"As you wish." Kuril seemed unperturbed by the werewolf's contempt. "This way to Out-processing. We're holding Jack in our super max wing, but the paperwork will be finalized in the administrative section."

As they proceeded through another security checkpoint, the massive mechanical arms continued their relentless movement, shifting prisoners from one location to another in a complex choreography of incarceration. The system hummed with mechanical efficiency, each pod carried with robotic precision that emphasized the dehumanization at the core of Purgatory's operation.

Garrus's eyes tracked the movement of the cells, his former C-Sec investigator's instincts evidently engaged. "What about escape attempts? With so many cells in motion, there must be opportunities."

Kuril's mandibles clicked in amusement. "Escape? To where, exactly? We're in space, Officer Vakarian. Even if a prisoner somehow managed to leave their cell, the nearest habitable world is light years away." He gestured around them. "Besides, every corridor can be locked down, every section vented to space if necessary. We've created the perfect prison."

"No such thing," Brutus muttered, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint sounds of prisoners from within the passing cells, breathing, movement, occasionally whispered words or soft weeping. "Everyone finds freedom eventually, one way or another."

The warden regarded him with curious eyes. "Philosophy from the Wolf of the Wards? How unexpected." He turned away, leading them deeper into the facility. "Out-processing is just ahead. Let's complete our transaction and send you on your way, with your newest acquisition securely in hand."

As they followed, Brutus couldn't shake the mounting sense of wrongness that permeated the prison ship. He'd spent enough time in traps to recognize when one was being set. His claws flexed within his gauntlets, the integrated technology glowing softly yellow through the seams, ready, waiting. Whatever Kuril was planning, the Wolf would be prepared.

As they rounded the corner into the next corridor, a commotion erupted between two prisoners in adjacent exercise yards, a human and a batarian lunging at each other through the invisible barrier separating their sections. A mechanical arm swiveled with unexpected speed, deploying a shimmering bubble of energy that expanded between the would-be combatants. The kinetic barrier hummed with barely contained power, its translucent surface distorting the prisoners' features as they pounded futilely against it, their shouts muted to a dull murmur.

"Impressive response time," Garrus noted, his ex-C-Sec officer's eye evaluating the security measure with professional interest.

Warden Kuril's mandibles flared in a gesture of pride. "Our automated systems detect aggression patterns before violence fully manifests. The barrier contains not just physical force but sound transmission as well." He gestured toward the mechanical arm, which remained poised above the scene like a vigilant sentinel. "Each unit can deploy multiple barriers simultaneously if needed."

The batarian prisoner, frustrated by the barrier's impassibility, retreated to the far corner of his exercise yard, his four eyes blinking in sequence, a sign of suppressed rage. The human, a heavily muscled man whose arms were covered in crude tattoos, continued to pound against the barrier for a few more seconds before giving up with a final obscene gesture.

"The system was initially developed for Asari containment facilities," Kuril continued as they moved past the scene. "We've modified it to account for various species-specific aggression patterns. Krogan require particularly robust protocols."

Grunt snorted derisively. "No barrier stops krogan for long."

"Which is why persistent offenders find themselves in isolated pods with reinforced walls," Kuril replied smoothly. "Every prisoner eventually learns the boundaries of their existence here."

They passed another security checkpoint, where blue, uniformed technicians monitored banks of screens displaying feed from throughout the facility. One technician glanced up as they passed, his eyes lingering a fraction too long on Shepard and Brutus before returning to his console.

Kuril paused at a junction where the corridor branched into two directions. "Out-processing is straight ahead. I need to verify the transfer authorization and confirm that the payment from Cerberus has cleared our accounts." His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Shepard. "Your credentials are... unique, Commander. The first human Spectre, now working with Cerberus. Many would pay handsomely for someone of your particular status."

Brutus's ears flattened against his skull, a low growl building in his chest. "Is that a threat, Warden?"

The turian's mandibles clicked in what might have been amusement. "Merely an observation. The economics of our operation are complex." He gestured down the corridor. "Please, proceed to Out-processing. I'll rejoin you shortly to finalize the release."

Without waiting for a response, Kuril turned and strode down the other passageway, his armor catching the harsh overhead light as he disappeared around a corner.

"I don't like this," Garrus muttered once Kuril was out of earshot. "He's too interested in our value."

Shepard nodded, her hand drifting closer to her sidearm. "Stay alert. Let's get Jack and get out of here as quickly as possible."

They continued down the corridor toward Out-processing, passing cells that contained prisoners of various species. Some stared out through the small view ports with vacant expressions, while others pressed against the transparent barriers, eyes following the heavily armed group with hungry interest. The cells themselves were spartan, a bed bolted to the floor, a basic sanitation unit in the corner, and occasionally a small shelf containing meager personal effects.

"Smell that?" Brutus asked, his sensitive nostrils flaring. "Adrenaline. Fear. The guards are on edge."

Grunt inhaled deeply, his reptilian features contorting in a predatory grin. "They should be afraid."

Brutus caught Garrus's eye, a silent communication passing between them. Something was wrong. The corridor behind them had subtly filled with more guards, their positions too deliberately casual to be coincidental. They were being herded.

At the entrance to Out-processing, a technician looked up from his console, his expression carefully neutral. "Welcome to Purgatory Out-processing. Please proceed through the door at the end of the room to complete your transaction."

The room itself was sterile and functional, several workstations arranged around a central area, screens displaying prisoner data and transfer protocols. Two guards flanked the door as they passed, their hands resting conspicuously on their weapons.

Shepard led the way across the room, her stride purposeful but measured. Brutus followed, keeping Grunt and Garrus in his peripheral vision while scanning for additional threats. The tensions in his muscles built with each step, instincts honed by countless battles screaming warnings.

The door at the end of the room slid open as they approached, revealing not an office as expected, but a cell, empty, sterile, and unmistakably designed for containment.

"Shepard, wait—" Brutus began, but before he could finish, Warden Kuril's voice echoed through the overhead speakers.

"My apologies, Commander Shepard," the warden's dual-toned voice carried notes of smug satisfaction. "You're more valuable as a prisoner than a customer. The Collectors have offered a substantial sum for anyone associated with you, dead or alive."

Brutus snarled, whirling to face the now closing door behind them. "You treacherous bastard!" His enhanced muscles coiled, ready to spring toward the exit, but the heavy security doors were already sliding shut with pneumatic finality.

"But you're not the only prize today," Kuril continued, his voice taking on an edge of genuine excitement. "The last member, let alone the surviving captain of the Wolf Brigade, Brutus, the Ferocious Beast himself. You’re really one of a kind, No others like you. Your bounty nearly rivals Shepard's. Two for the price of one, as humans say."

Shepard's hand flew to her weapon, drawing it in one fluid motion. "I should have known better than to trust a prison run by mercenaries."

"I run a tight ship, Commander. And adding two new luxury accommodations to my facility will fund significant upgrades. Don't worry about your krogan and turian companions, they'll fetch a reasonable price on the secondary market."

Grunt released a sound that was half laugh, half battle cry. "Finally!" The massive krogan rolled his shoulders, drawing his shotgun with an eagerness that bordered on glee. "Something to kill!"

Garrus had already taken up position behind one of the workstations, his sniper rifle assembled and ready. "Should we start a tally? I bet I can drop more of these Blue Suns than you, Brutus."

"You're on, Vakarian," Brutus growled, the yellow glow from his gauntlets intensifying as he activated their combat systems. His massive frame seemed to expand further as he embraced the coming violence, the color of his eyes gleaming with predatory focus. "Shepard, orders?"

Commander Shepard assessed the situation with the cold calculation of a veteran soldier, her emerald eyes hard as she scanned for weaknesses in their impromptu prison. "We fight our way back to the main corridor and find the super-max wing. If they want to sell us, they need to take us alive. We don't have the same restriction."

"Engaging security protocols," Kuril's voice announced as alarms began to wail throughout the facility. "All Blue Suns personnel, we have a prison break in Out-processing. Subdue the targets with minimal damage."

Brutus bared his teeth in what might have been mistaken for a smile if not for the deadly promise it contained. "Minimal damage," he repeated, drawing his M-22 Eviscerator shotgun. "Let's show them what real damage looks like."

The door to Out-processing slid open, revealing a squad of Blue Suns mercenaries advancing with weapons raised. Brutus didn't wait for them to establish position, he charged forward in a blur of dark fur and gleaming armor, his massive form crashing into the first mercenary with bone-crushing force as his biotic charge wore off. The guard's armor crumpled under the impact, his scream cut short as Brutus's claws found the vulnerable seam at his throat.

Shepard moved with practiced efficiency, her pistol barking precise shots that found gaps in armor and visors with unerring accuracy. Two more guards fell before they could properly aim their weapons, bodies crumpling to the floor in awkward heaps.

Garrus's sniper rifle cracked once, twice, each shot precisely calculated to penetrate helmets and end threats before they fully manifested. "That's two for me," he called, already lining up his next target.

Grunt barreled through the remaining guards like a freight train of scales and muscle, his laughter echoing off the metal walls as he fired his shotgun at point-blank range into a turian mercenary's chest. The guard's armor disintegrated under the blast, blue blood spattering across the pristine floor. "This is what I was born for!" the krogan roared, headbutting another guard with enough force to cave in his helmet.

The initial wave dispatched, Brutus took point as they pushed back into the corridor they had come through. More alarms blared, red emergency lights casting everything in a bloody glow that matched the spreading pools beneath the fallen guards.

"Back toward that fork," Shepard ordered, falling into position behind Brutus. "The super-max wing is our best chance of finding Jack."

Garrus covered their rear, his rifle occasionally cracking as he picked off guards attempting to flank them. "Ten credits says Kuril is already accessing the ejection controls for the cells."

"No bet," Brutus growled, his enhanced senses already detecting the increased activity ahead. "But if he thinks he's spacing us or Jack, he's about to learn a painful lesson about the Brigade's retirement policy."

They fought their way back down the corridor, moving with the coordinated precision of a team accustomed to combat together. Shepard's biotic abilities complemented Brutus's raw physical power, while Garrus provided long-range support and Grunt served as an unstoppable battering ram.

As they approached the junction where the super-max wing branched off, Brutus caught the distinctive scent of military-grade explosives, a trap waiting to be triggered. He raised his hand, signaling the squad to halt.

"Proximity mine ahead," he warned, dropping to one knee to examine the barely visible device affixed to the floor panel. "Amateur work, but effective enough to remove a leg."

Shepard nodded. "Disarm it. We're taking that corridor."

With surprising delicacy for hands so massive, Brutus manipulated the mine's trigger mechanism, his claws carefully separating the detonator from the explosive compound. The device gave a soft click as it deactivated, its status light fading from red to dormant gray.

"Clear," he announced, rising to his full height. "Super-max wing ahead."

As they turned down the previously forbidden corridor, the sounds of chaos echoed through the facility, alarms, shouted orders, and the unmistakable crack of weapons fire from multiple directions. Whatever Kuril had planned, it was rapidly spiralling beyond his control.

Brutus's lips pulled back in a savage grin. Chaos was where the Wolf had always thrived.

The corridor ahead was a gauntlet of hostiles, a mixture of Blue Suns mercenaries entrenched behind makeshift barricades and mechanical defenders programmed for lethal force. Brutus dropped into a half-crouch as a hail of mass accelerator rounds pinged off the bulkhead beside him, the projectiles leaving smoking divots in the metal. A Fenrir mech, a four-legged combat unit resembling a mechanical hound, leapt from behind a barricade, its red targeting laser sweeping across the squad's position as it calculated attack vectors.

"Fuck," Brutus growled, ducking back as another barrage of fire peppered their position. "We need to break that line or we're pinned."

Grunt pounded his fists together, his massive frame vibrating with barely contained blood lust. "Just point me at them, Wolf!"

A gleam of feral inspiration lit Brutus's yellow eyes as he assessed the krogan's armor-plated bulk. "You know what? That's exactly what I'm going to do." He turned to Shepard with a wolfish grin that exposed his fangs. "Commander, permission to try something spectacularly stupid?"

Shepard's eyebrow arched as she fired three precise shots around the corner. "Define 'stupid.'"

"I'm going to fastball the krogan."

Garrus's mandibles flared in disbelief. "You're going to what?"

"Throw me?" Grunt's eyes widened before his reptilian features split into a delighted grin. "YES!"

Shepard glanced between them, then at the barricade ahead where more Blue Suns were taking position. Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Do it."

Brutus holstered his shotgun and flexed his massive clawed hands. "Grunt, curl up tight. I need you in a ball."

The krogan didn't hesitate, tucking his limbs and head inward, becoming a half-ton armored sphere of muscle and murderous intent. "I am ready!"

"Garrus, Shepard, covering fire on my mark." Brutus planted his feet wide, bracing against the floor as he wrapped his arms around Grunt's massive form. Every enhanced muscle in his body tensed as he lifted the krogan, a vein bulging in his neck from the strain.

"Holy shit, you're heavy, you weigh like twice as much as every krogan I’ve ever fought!" he grunted, adjusting his grip.

"Pure muscle," Grunt rumbled proudly from his curled position.

Brutus took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of his genetically enhanced strength, pushing his biotics to weave within his muscle fibers to help ease the weight of the large Krogan. "MARK!"

As Shepard and Garrus unleashed a barrage that forced the mercenaries to duck, Brutus roared with primal effort, swinging Grunt in a massive arc before launching him down the corridor. The krogan became a living projectile, spinning through the air with surprising grace for something so massive.

"I AM KROOOOOGAN!" Grunt bellowed joyously as he hurtled toward the barricade.

The Blue Suns barely had time to register the bizarre sight of a half-ton krogan cannonball before Grunt crashed into their position with devastating force. Bodies went flying in all directions, armor crumpling under the impact. The Fenrir mech was crushed instantly, its mechanical limbs splaying outward as Grunt plowed through it.

"Go! Go! Go!" Shepard shouted, already sprinting forward to capitalize on the chaos.

Brutus charged after her, his shotgun back in hand, laughing with savage delight. "That's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen!"

Grunt had already unfolded from his ball, standing amid the wreckage of the barricade with dazed mercenaries scattered around him. His booming laughter echoed off the walls as he grabbed a stunned turian by the throat and headbutted him with bone-shattering force.

"DO IT AGAIN!" the krogan roared, stomping on a fallen guard who was trying to crawl away.

Garrus picked off a mercenary who was struggling to his feet. "I can't believe that actually worked," he muttered, sounding both impressed and disturbed.

They pushed forward through the gap Grunt had created, dispatching the remaining defenders with ruthless efficiency. Brutus fell in beside Shepard, his breath coming in controlled pants from the exertion.

"Not bad for an old wolf," she remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice.

"Old?" Brutus snorted, ejecting a spent thermal clip. "I'm just getting warmed up, Commander."

"Shepard?" Garrus gestured toward the lock.

She approached, omni-tool already glowing as she interfaced with the security system. "Basic Elkoss Combine security suite. Give me thirty seconds."

The security panel flashed green, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Inside, a Blue Suns technician sat at a bank of monitors, his hand already reaching for his comm unit.

"Intruders at Super max Control! They've breached—" His transmission cut off abruptly as Brutus crossed the room in two strides, massive hand closing around the technician's throat.

"Access codes for cryostasis release," Brutus growled, lifting the human off his chair with insulting ease. "Now."

The technician clawed desperately at the werewolf's implacable grip, eyes bulging as his oxygen supply diminished. "Can't—breathe—"

Brutus loosened his hold fractionally. "That's the idea. Codes, or you stop breathing permanently."

"Terminal three," the man gasped, pointing to one of the workstations. "Authentication... Sierra-Nine-Delta-Four-Seven."

Shepard moved to the indicated terminal while Garrus covered the door and Grunt watched with mild disappointment that the interrogation hadn't required more violence.

"Got it," Shepard confirmed, her fingers dancing across the interface. "Jack's cell is in a separate holding area below this level. Heavy security, four YMIR mechs on standby."

Brutus addressed the technician again, whose face was beginning to turn an alarming shade of purple. "Override controls for the entire prison, where?"

The man's eyes darted to a sealed panel on the far wall. "Emergency... protocols... only accessible... warden's authorization..."

"I'm authorizing it," Brutus snarled, tightening his grip slightly before releasing the technician, who collapsed to the floor gasping. "Shepard, that panel."

She nodded, moving to the indicated section while Brutus kept the technician covered. The panel required more extensive hacking, but Shepard's experience with security systems made short work of the protections.

"This will override security for the whole prison," she noted, glancing at Brutus. "Including cell doors."

"Do it," Brutus confirmed. "It's the only way to get Jack out of cryostasis, and we could use the distraction."

The technician's eyes widened with panic. "You can't! There are over thousand dangerous criminals-"

Grunt silenced him with a casual backhand that sent the man sprawling unconscious across the floor. "He talks too much."

Shepard completed the override sequence, and the control room came alive with new alerts. Security monitors displayed real-time footage of cell doors throughout the facility sliding open, confused prisoners cautiously emerging into corridors suddenly free of barriers. In some areas, guards were already engaging with inmates, while in others, prisoners overwhelmed isolated security personnel.

"Chaos," Garrus observed dryly. "Your specialty, Brutus."

The werewolf's ears flicked in acknowledgment as he moved to a large observation window that overlooked a circular chamber below. "Jack's coming up."

The floor of the chamber was opening, mechanical systems whirring as a cylindrical cell rose from the depths of the prison. Four YMIR mechs, heavily armored bipedal units standing over nine feet tall, activated in sequence, their targeting systems coming online as they positioned themselves around the rising cell.

"Heavy mechs," Shepard noted, her voice tight with concern. "Those won't be easy to take down if they turn hostile."

The cell completed its ascent, locking into position at the center of the chamber. It was different from the other containment units they'd seen, not a full containment cell, but just a metal slab that the inmate is strapped to. Through the rooms observation window, they could see frost on the exterior of the cell, indicating the cryostasis systems were active.

"Release sequence initiated," a synthesized voice announced through the control room speakers. "Cryostasis termination in progress. Vital signs normalizing."

As the frost dissipated from the cell, they got their first clear look at Subject Zero, at Jack. Garrus made a sound of disbelief.

"That's Jack? That's the most dangerous criminal in the facility?"

Through the clearing frost, a slender female form came into view, strapped to the metal slab. As the cryostasis chamber fully deactivated, Garrus let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Well, I'll be damned," the turian muttered, mandibles flaring slightly. "She's actually pretty, by human standards anyway. Too unstable for my taste, but... not what I expected."

Brutus found himself transfixed. His enhanced vision pierced through the remaining vapor, taking in every detail of the woman before them. Jack's head was completely shaved, the absence of hair drawing attention to the striking architecture of her face. High, sculpted cheekbones caught the harsh prison lighting, creating shadows that accentuated their perfect definition. Her lips were full and plump, slightly parted as her breathing normalized. Long, thick eyelashes rested against her skin like dark crescents, framing eyes still closed in semi-consciousness.

His gaze traveled lower, taking in the intricate tapestry of tattoos that covered nearly every inch of visible skin. The designs were chaotic yet deliberate, telling a story he couldn't yet read but desperately wanted to understand. The ink swirled across her collarbones, down her arms, disappearing beneath the straps of her harness only to emerge again across her midriff.

That harness, barely more than a few strategically placed strips of leather, covered her modest breasts with almost insulting inadequacy. The edges of her areolas peeked from beneath the constraints, a dusky pink against her pale skin. Despite the clinical setting, despite the danger surrounding them, Brutus felt it, a primal stirring deep within his chest, a recognition of something kindred in this dangerous, beautiful human.

"She's... magnificent," Brutus breathed, the words escaping before he could stop them.

"Down, boy," Shepard's amused voice cut through his trance. "You can admire our new psychotic biotic after we get her out of here."

Brutus blinked, embarrassment heating his fur-covered face as his ears lay back, he realized how intently he'd been staring. "I was just... assessing."

"Is that what they call it now?" Shepard teased, a rare smile playing at her lips despite their dire situation.

Before Brutus could respond, Jack's eyes suddenly fluttered open, revealing dark irises that immediately sharpened with awareness. No gradual awakening from cryostasis, one moment unconscious, the next fully alert. Her gaze darted around, taking in her surroundings with predatory assessment.

The change was immediate and catastrophic. Biotic energy erupted from her slight form in waves of blue-white power that sent the monitoring systems into overdrive. Alarms blared as the control room instruments registered biotic outputs far beyond expected parameters.

"Impossible," Garrus breathed, watching as Jack's restraints began to buckle under the strain of her power. "No human biotic is that strong."

The YMIR mechs responded to the threat, their massive weapons systems coming online as they registered Jack as a hostile target. The lead mech raised its arm, missile launcher primed and targeting systems locked.

It never had a chance to fire. Jack's biotic explosion ripped through the chamber with such force that the observation window cracked despite its reinforced construction. The YMIR mechs, each weighing several tons and designed to withstand heavy weapons, were thrown back like toys. The lead mech was torn apart at the joints, its armor plating peeled away by the concentrated biotic energy. The second and third followed in rapid succession, internal systems overloading in cascading failures that culminated in secondary explosions.

Jack dropped to the floor of the chamber, her slight frame belying the devastating power she'd just unleashed. Without hesitation, she turned toward the fourth mech, which was still attempting to right itself after being thrown against the far wall. A gesture, almost casual, sent a focused wave of biotic energy that compressed the mech's chassis until its power core breached, resulting in a final explosion that tore a hole through the wall of the chamber.

"By the spirits," Garrus muttered, visibly shaken by the display. "That's not biotics, that's a natural disaster with tattoos."

Grunt, by contrast, seemed delighted. "Now that's a warrior! She destroys like a true krogan!"

Jack didn't pause to admire her handiwork. With predatory efficiency, she moved through the hole she'd created, disappearing from their view but leaving a trail of destruction in her wake that would be easy to follow.

Brutus was already moving toward the exit. "We need to catch up to her before she tears the whole station apart, or worse, finds a way off without us."

Shepard nodded, checking her weapon. "Through that hole she made. It's leading back toward the docking bay, if I'm oriented correctly."

They descended from the control booth, following the path of Jack's destruction. What they found confirmed Garrus's assessment—not a fight, but a calamity. Walls were torn open, floor panels ripped up, and any Blue Suns unfortunate enough to get in her way had been reduced to broken bodies thrown aside like discarded waste.

The fourth YMIR mech lay in pieces across the chamber floor, its reinforced armor shredded as though it had been made of paper rather than military-grade alloys. One of its arms had been driven halfway through a bulkhead, the force of impact bending the thick metal.

"Impressive," Brutus acknowledged, stepping through the ragged hole Jack had torn in the wall. "Let's hope she's open to conversation when we catch up."

Shepard's expression was grim as she followed. "After what Cerberus likely did to her to create those abilities? I wouldn't count on it."

The path ahead was clear, not from lack of obstacles, but because Jack had simply removed anything in her way. They were following not footprints but the spoor of a force of nature unleashed after too long in captivity. And she was heading, with unerring instinct, toward freedom.

The hole punched through the bulkhead led them into a corridor strewn with debris and the occasional Blue Suns corpse. Jack had moved through the space like a biotic hurricane, leaving walls buckled and support beams twisted into abstract sculptures of metal and wiring. The air smelled of eezo and blood, the distinctive aftermath of powerful biotics mixed with the more primal scent of violence. Brutus stepped over a guard whose armor had been compressed into his ribcage, the man's eyes still wide with the shock of his sudden demise.

"She doesn't lack for efficiency," Garrus observed, examining a section of wall where the imprint of a guard's body remained, though the guard himself had been peeled away and discarded several meters down the corridor.

Shepard knelt beside another fallen Blue Suns, retrieving a security pass from his belt. "She's heading toward the common area. Probably trying to find an exit."

Above them, Warden Kuril's voice boomed through the facility's announcement system, the turian's dual tones strained with barely contained panic. "All available personnel to Level Three! Subject Zero has escaped containment! Recapture protocols are in effect, authorization for lethal measures rescinded! I want her alive!"

A pause, then: "All containment officers, be advised: intruders are moving through the supermax wing. Shoot on sight, but salvage the bodies. Priority targets are Shepard and the lycanthrope."

Grunt chuckled, the sound rumbling through his massive chest. "He still thinks he can capture us."

"Lycanthrope? He might as well use my full government name too, I can’t even transform!" Brutus replied, checking his shotgun's thermal clip. "Wonder If he’s scared"

The next announcement came almost immediately, confirming Brutus's assessment: "Facility lockdown initiated! All techs to emergency stations, I want every exit sealed! Activate all security mechs!"

They moved forward, following Jack's destructive trail through another set of corridors. The damage became more extensive as they proceeded, entire sections of wall ripped away, ceiling panels dangling from exposed wiring, and sprinkler systems hissing streams of water onto the floor.

"She's getting angrier," Shepard noted, stepping around a pool of water now electrified by damaged conduits.

"Or stronger," Brutus countered. "Like a predator warming up after hibernation."

They passed three prison cells that had been wrenched open from the outside, their occupants nowhere to be seen. Discarded Blue Suns weaponry suggested the escaped prisoners had armed themselves, a development that complicated their pursuit.

"Prisoners with guns," Garrus muttered. "This just keeps getting better."

Brutus paused at an intersection, his enhanced senses sorting through the cacophony of sounds echoing through the facility, alarms, gunfire, shouted orders, and the distant screams of the wounded or dying. Beneath it all, he detected the distinctive electrical hum of active biotic fields.

"This way," he indicated, leading them down a corridor that showed signs of recent combat, scorch marks from weapon discharges and splashes of blood in various hues. "She's heading for the docking bay."

They emerged onto a walkway overlooking the prison's common area, the same space they had viewed earlier during Kuril's tour, but now transformed into a war zone. Below, the metal bridge spanning the central pit had become a makeshift battlefield where guards and prisoners engaged in desperate combat. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, some in prison jumpsuits, others in the distinctive blue-and-white armor of the mercenary group.

From their elevated position, they could see that Jack had passed through like a force of nature, a section of wall near the far exit bore the distinctive blast pattern of powerful biotics, and several bodies lay crumpled at unnatural angles around the area.

"Normandy's not too far on the other side of that door, another area or two" Shepard confirmed, checking the facility schematic on her omni-tool. "But we've got a small war to get through first."

Below them, a squad of Blue Suns was pinned down behind overturned tables, exchanging fire with a group of prisoners who had taken cover behind a security checkpoint. The prisoners wielded a motley assortment of stolen weapons, pistols taken from fallen guards, improvised clubs fashioned from broken equipment, and in one case, a guard's severed arm still encased in its armor gauntlet.

On the elevated bridge spanning the room, a YMIR mech stood in sentinel mode, its targeting systems clearly waiting for movement into its designated zone of control. The massive machine's presence had created a no-man's-land in the center of the room, forcing both factions to remain on their respective sides.

"Direct assault would be messy," Brutus assessed, studying the battlefield with a tactician's eye. "Too many variables, too many angles of fire."

Grunt shifted impatiently beside him, the krogan's blood clearly up from the sounds and smells of battle below. "We could just kill them all. Start with that mech, then work outward."

"And waste ammunition we might need later," Brutus countered. "No. We wait."

"Wait?" Grunt's disappointment was palpable. "For what?"

"For them to kill each other," Brutus replied, settling into a position that offered both concealment and a clear view of the battleground. "Conservation of resources. Basic strategy."

Shepard nodded, recognizing the wisdom in the approach. "We stay hidden, let them thin each other out, then move when the odds are better."

"Boring," Grunt complained, but took up position nonetheless, his massive form surprisingly adept at finding adequate cover despite his size.

Garrus had already found an optimal sniper position, his rifle resting on a broken section of railing. "I've got a clear shot on the mech's power core if it becomes necessary. might take more than a few rounds though"

They watched in tense silence as the battle below unfolded with chaotic violence. The prisoners, driven by desperation and the rare opportunity for revenge, fought with reckless abandon. They charged the Blue Suns positions in waves, sacrificing their front ranks to draw fire while others flanked through side passages.

The mercenaries, by contrast, maintained discipline even as their numbers dwindled. They retreated in coordinated movements, covering each other with suppressing fire and making effective use of their superior weaponry and training. But they were outnumbered, and the constant pressure from multiple directions was steadily eroding their defenses.

"Look at their movements," Brutus murmured, eyes tracking the Blue Suns commander as he directed his troops. "They're not just defending, they're channeling the prisoners toward the mech's firing zone."

Shepard studied the pattern and nodded. "Using the YMIR as a force multiplier. Smart."

The strategy became evident moments later when a large group of prisoners breached the mercenaries' front line, believing they had broken through the defense. As they rushed forward in pursuit, they entered the mech's designated zone. The YMIR activated instantly, its massive machine gun spraying the exposed prisoners with devastating fire. Bodies fell in heaps, the survivors scrambling back toward cover as the mech's targeting laser swept across them.

"Effective," Garrus acknowledged. "But they've just lost their trump card."

With the mech now active and exposed, the remaining prisoners focused their fire on it from multiple angles. Most of their shots deflected harmlessly off its heavy armor, but the volume of fire forced the machine to divide its attention, reducing its effectiveness.

The battle settled into a three-way stalemate, the prisoners pinned down but still numerous, the Blue Suns dwindling but entrenched, and the YMIR mech unable to fully engage the groups of prisoners due to the divided battlefield. It was an equilibrium that couldn't last.

Brutus watched the ebb and flow of combat with the patience of a predator waiting for the optimal moment to strike. When the prisoners launched another coordinated attack, forcing the Blue Suns to expend precious thermal clips, he signaled to the others.

"Now. While they're focused on each other."

Shepard nodded. "Objectives: eliminate the remaining guards, disable the mech, secure passage to the exit. Questions?"

"Can I kill the mech?" Grunt asked, his enthusiasm barely contained.

"Be my guest," Shepard replied with a slight smile. "Just save some ammunition for Kuril."

They moved with practiced coordination, descending to the lower level through a maintenance access that bypassed the main battlefield. Brutus took point, his enhanced senses alert for any change in the combat rhythm that might indicate they'd been spotted.

The first Blue Suns guard died without ever knowing they were there, Brutus's massive hand clamped over his mouth while his claws severed the carotid artery in one precise strike. Lowering the body silently to the floor, the werewolf gestured for the others to advance.

They worked their way through the periphery of the battle zone, eliminating isolated guards with silent efficiency. Shepard's biotic abilities proved particularly valuable, allowing her to lift enemies from cover without alerting their comrades, presenting easy targets for Garrus's rifle.

When they had reduced the Blue Suns' numbers to just four guards clustered near the far exit, Brutus signaled for the final phase. Grunt, who had been growing increasingly restless with the stealthy approach, bared his teeth in anticipation.

"Garrus, Shepard, covering fire. Grunt, with me on the mech. Execute on my mark."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Your operation now, Captain?"

Brutus's ears flattened slightly in embarrassment, he had slipped back into Wolf Brigade command protocols without realizing it. "Sorry. Your call, Commander."

"It's a good plan," she replied with a slight smile. "Execute on your mark, Captain." She gave him a small wink.

The acknowledgment of his former rank sent an unexpected warmth through his chest. “Oh Shepard, I might fall fast if you treat me so nicely~” He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Three, two, one, mark."

The squad erupted into action with devastating synchronicity. Garrus and Shepard opened fire on the remaining Blue Suns guards, forcing them into cover and drawing the attention of both the prisoners and the mech. As the YMIR turned to engage this new threat, Brutus and Grunt charged from opposite directions.

The prisoners, seeing their opportunity, launched a final desperate assault on the distracted guards. The resulting chaos was exactly what Brutus had counted on, a perfect storm of divided attention that prevented any one faction from mounting an effective defense.

The Blue Suns guards fell quickly, overwhelmed by the combined fire from Shepard, Garrus, and the emboldened prisoners. Their deaths were lost in the larger spectacle of Grunt's frontal assault on the YMIR mech.

The krogan charged directly into the machine's line of fire, his shields flickering but holding as he closed the distance with remarkable speed. The mech attempted to adjust its targeting, but Grunt was already within melee range, his massive form slamming into the mechanical giant with enough force to stagger it.

While Grunt occupied the mech's attention, Brutus circled behind, using the confusion of the battle to approach unseen. The YMIR's rear armor plating, while still formidable, was its most vulnerable point, a concession to weight distribution and power cell ventilation.

Brutus leapt, his enhanced muscles propelling him onto the mech's back. His claws dug into seams between armor plates, finding purchase where others would have slipped. With precision born of countless battles, he tore away a section of plating, exposing the machine's power distribution node.

The mech attempted to dislodge him, servos whining as it rotated its upper body. Grunt took advantage of the distraction to deliver a devastating blow to the machine's knee joint, partially buckling the structure and further destabilizing the mechanical behemoth.

Brutus plunged his hand into the exposed circuitry, his armor-enhanced claws severing critical connections in a shower of sparks. The mech shuddered, its systems struggling to compensate for the cascade failure spreading through its network. Warning lights flashed across its chassis as he withdrew his hand and leapt clear.

"Clear!" he shouted, rolling into a defensive position as the mech's power core began its distinctive overload sequence, a high-pitched whine that rose rapidly in frequency and volume.

The explosion rocked the chamber, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. Brutus's shields absorbed the worst of it, the energy barrier flickering heavily but holding. When the smoke cleared, the YMIR mech was reduced to a smoking heap of twisted metal and melted circuitry.

Grunt emerged from behind an overturned security desk, his armor scored with fresh burns but his expression one of pure satisfaction. "That," he announced with undisguised glee, "was worth waiting for."

The few remaining prisoners, recognizing both a superior force and a potential escape route, wisely retreated back into the depths of the facility. Within moments, the battlefield was eerily quiet, the dead and the debris the only evidence of the frantic combat that had raged just minutes before.

"Clear," Shepard announced, completing a final sweep of the perimeter. "Let's move before Kuril sends reinforcements."

They proceeded through the exit Jack had created, following her trail of destruction toward the docking bay. The station itself seemed to be deteriorating around them, power fluctuations caused lights to flicker, and distant explosions suggested that the prison break had spread throughout the facility.

The chamber opened before them, revealing a spacious atrium with high ceilings and a clear view of the prison ship's exterior through reinforced observation windows. Five prisoners lay scattered across the floor in pools of their own blood, their bodies still twitching with the final spasms of death. Standing on an elevated platform at the far end of the room, Warden Kuril surveyed his handiwork with cold satisfaction, the barrel of his M-76 Revenant still smoking from the recent discharge.

"Shepard!" the turian called out, his mandibles flaring in what might have been a smile. "I admire your persistence, but this is where your journey ends."

Brutus's nostrils flared, catching the acrid scent of discharged thermal clips and fresh blood. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the tactical situation, four power pylons positioned strategically at the corners of the room, each emitting a pulsing blue energy field that converged around Kuril, forming a shimmering barrier that encased the warden in protective light.

"Fuck," Brutus growled, diving for cover as Kuril opened fire, the Revenant's heavy rounds chewing through the metal crate he'd sheltered behind. "He's got a full tactical barrier grid!"

Shepard rolled into position behind a fallen support beam, her armor scraping against the metal floor. "Those pylons are generating his shield. We need to take them down!"

The Revenant roared again, its sustained fire cutting a deadly arc across their position. Unlike the undisciplined spray of typical mercenaries, Kuril's aim was methodical and precise, each burst carefully placed to pin them down or force movement into pre-sighted kill zones.

"Veteran mercenary," Garrus confirmed, ducking as rounds punched through the pillar beside his head. "He knows what he's doing."

Six more Blue Suns rushed in from side entrances, taking up supporting positions around the room. Their coordinated movements suggested Kuril had kept his elite guards in reserve for exactly this confrontation.

"Split up!" Shepard commanded, her voice cutting through the cacophony of gunfire. "Each of us takes a pylon. Brutus, northwest corner. Garrus, northeast. Grunt, southwest. I'll take southeast. Move on my mark!"

Brutus checked his shotgun, grimacing at the limited thermal clips remaining. The constant fighting had depleted their ammunition reserves, and the warden's trap had been perfectly timed to catch them at their most vulnerable.

"Mark!" Shepard shouted, unleashing a biotic singularity that caught two Blue Suns in its gravitational pull, lifting them helplessly into the air.

Brutus exploded from cover, his massive form a blur of dark fur and gleaming armor as he charged toward his designated pylon. A Blue Suns heavy trooper moved to intercept, raising a Vindicator rifle with practiced efficiency. Brutus didn't break stride, ducking under the first burst and closing the distance before the mercenary could adjust his aim. His claws flashed once, twice, and the turian collapsed, his throat opened in a spray of blue blood.

"Come on, you blue-armored cocksuckers!" Brutus roared, his voice carrying over the din of battle as he continued toward the pylon. "I've killed better mercenaries before breakfast!"

Across the room, Grunt had abandoned all pretense of cover, charging directly at the closest group of Blue Suns with krogan bloodlust in full display. He absorbed their concentrated fire, his shields flickering but holding as he crashed into their formation like a living battering ram. Bodies went flying, armor crumpling under the impact of his massive frame.

"I! AM! KROGAN!" he bellowed, seizing a human mercenary by the throat and using him as a makeshift shield while continuing toward his assigned pylon.

Garrus moved with the precision of an experienced sniper, each step calculated to maximize cover while maintaining sight lines to his targets. A Blue Suns engineer attempted to deploy a combat drone to flush Brutus out, but the turian's rifle cracked once, and the engineer collapsed with a neat hole through his visor.

"That's another one you owe me, Brutus," Garrus called, his mandibles flaring in a turian smile as he advanced steadily toward the northeast pylon.

Kuril's Revenant continued its deadly symphony, the heavy weapon spitting death in controlled bursts that forced Shepard to move in erratic patterns as she fought her way toward the southeast corner. A biotic charge carried her past a particularly exposed section, her form momentarily dissolving into blue energy before rematerializing behind a Blue Suns captain. Her fist flashed with blue energy, and the mercenary dropped, his spine crushed at the base of the skull. "Ouch…I hate using the Biotic charge, I don’t have the mass to make it viable" her voice echoed over their comms.

"The pylons are shielded!" she shouted, noticing the protective barrier around her target. "You'll need to overload them before they can be destroyed!"

Brutus reached his designated pylon, only to find it surrounded by its own localized energy field. "Fucking perfect," he snarled, ejecting a spent thermal clip from his shotgun. He was down to his last three clips, each shot now a precious resource that couldn't be wasted.

A Blue Suns trooper rounded the corner, weapon raised, but Brutus was faster. His shotgun roared once, the close-range blast shredding the mercenary's shields and armor in a single devastating discharge. As the body crumpled, Brutus knelt beside it, scavenging additional thermal clips from the fallen guard's weapons.

"Overload protocols engaged," he announced, his omni-tool glowing as he interfaced with the pylon's security systems. The device hummed ominously as his hacking program attacked its defenses, the barrier flickering as the electronic warfare played out in microsecond exchanges.

Across the room, Grunt had reached his pylon and opted for a more direct approach. Unable to penetrate the shield with conventional weapons, the krogan had ripped a metal strut from the wall and was using it as an improvised battering ram, hammering at the barrier with relentless strength.

"Break, damn you!" Grunt roared, each impact sending ripples through the energy field. "I will tear you apart with my bare hands!"

Garrus had taken a more tactical approach, deploying a tech mine against the base of his pylon while maintaining suppressing fire on the Blue Suns reinforcements still streaming into the chamber. "Shepard, these pylons have synchronized fail safes. We need to time our attacks!"

Kuril, recognizing the threat to his protective system, adjusted his fire to focus on Brutus, whose hacking attempts posed the most immediate danger. The Revenant's heavy rounds pounded against the werewolf's position, forcing him to hunch lower behind the minimal cover provided by the pylon's base.

"You're just merchandise now, wolf!" Kuril shouted over the gunfire. "Do you know how much the Collectors are offering for Shepard? For you? Enough to build three more prison ships!"

Brutus's ears flattened against his skull as rounds impacted inches from his position. The hacking program was working, but too slowly. They needed a new approach.

"Shepard!" he called, ducking as another burst of fire chewed through the metal beside him. "These pylons are linked. If we overload one, it might create a cascade effect!"

Shepard nodded, understanding immediately. "Everyone, focus fire on my pylon on my mark! Garrus, can you get a clear shot?"

The turian shifted position, his rifle tracking to Shepard's target. "Got it lined up."

"Grunt, get ready to hit it with everything you've got!" Shepard commanded, preparing a biotic warp field between her hands, the dark energy swirling with destructive potential.

Brutus loaded his final thermal clip, the satisfying click barely audible over the continued roar of Kuril's Revenant. "Ready!"

"Now!" Shepard unleashed her warp field at the same moment Garrus's rifle cracked. Grunt abandoned his own pylon, charging across the room to add his firepower to the concentrated assault. Brutus emerged from cover just long enough to fire three precisely aimed blasts from his shotgun.

The combined attack overwhelmed the pylon's shield, the barrier collapsing under the focused onslaught. The device sputtered, internal components overloading in a cascade of sparks before exploding in a shower of superheated metal and eezo residue.

The effect was immediate and devastating. The destruction of one pylon created exactly the power surge Brutus had predicted, sending feedback through the connected system. The remaining three pylons flared with excess energy, their shields fluctuating wildly before failing in rapid succession.

Kuril's protective barrier dissolved around him, the turian's mandibles spreading in shock as he suddenly found himself exposed. "No! Reinforcements! I need reinforcements now!"

"Too late, asshole," Brutus snarled, already charging toward the warden's position. The remaining Blue Suns moved to intercept, but Shepard and Grunt cut them down with ruthless efficiency, clearing a path for the werewolf's advance.

Kuril swung the Revenant toward Brutus, the heavy weapon tracking his movement with deadly precision. The first burst caught the werewolf across his left shoulder, his shields flaring and failing under the concentrated fire. Pain lanced through his arm as at least one round penetrated his armor, the impact spinning him partially around but not breaking his stride.

"Die, you fucking monster!" Kuril screamed, continuing to fire as Brutus closed the distance.

The werewolf's lips pulled back in a feral grin, blood matting the fur on his arm but adrenaline numbing the pain. "You first," he growled, launching himself in a final surge of speed.

The distance between them vanished in a heartbeat. Brutus crashed into Kuril with the full force of his enhanced musculature, the impact sending both of them tumbling across the platform. The Revenant went flying from the turian's grasp, clattering uselessly across the floor and out of reach.

Kuril was no slouch in close combat, his turian military training evident as he twisted to drive an armored knee into Brutus's wounded shoulder. Fresh pain exploded through the werewolf's nervous system, drawing a snarl of rage rather than a cry of pain.

"You're worth more alive," Kuril hissed, mandibles flaring as he attempted to maneuver into a more advantageous position. "But the Collectors didn't specify completely intact."

Kuril reached for his belt, the movement fluid and practiced. In one smooth motion, he produced a weapon that gleamed wickedly in the emergency lighting, a curved turian blade, its distinctive half-kink design making it instantly recognizable to Brutus. A skiritana, the traditional weapon of turian special forces, crafted to penetrate between plates of armor with devastating precision.

"Let's see how tough your pelt really is," Kuril snarled, the blade dancing in his three-fingered grip with the expertise of decades of training.

Brutus barely had time to roll backward as the blade slashed where his throat had been a moment before. The edge caught his cheek instead, opening a shallow cut that immediately welled with dark blood. The werewolf snarled, tasting copper as droplets spattered his muzzle.

"Fucking amateur hour," Brutus growled, shifting his weight to compensate for his injured shoulder. "You should've gone for something bigger."

Kuril laughed, a cold, dual-toned sound as he circled, the blade weaving hypnotic patterns in the air between them. "Size isn't everything, wolf. This blade has tasted the blood of krogan warlords. Your hide will be just another notch."

The turian lunged again, his movements economical and precise, the product of military drilling so intense it transcended conscious thought. The blade darted toward Brutus's exposed flank, then changed direction mid-strike when the werewolf moved to defend, instead slicing across his forearm.

"Shit!" Brutus hissed, feeling the keen edge part his armor and flesh with insulting ease. Blood flowed freely from the new wound, hot against his fur.

Across the chamber, Shepard and the others were engaged with the remaining Blue Suns, unable to provide immediate assistance. This was a duel, predator against predator, and both combatants understood the stakes.

Kuril pressed his advantage, each strike flowing into the next with liquid grace. The skiritana blade hummed through the air, leaving shallow cuts across Brutus's arms and chest where the werewolf only partially evaded. The turian's mandibles spread in a predatory grin as he sensed victory approaching.

"You're bleeding out, wolf," Kuril taunted, his blade flashing again to open a gash across Brutus's thigh. "Might be worth more as a pelt than a live specimen after all. Bit off more than even you could chew. I may be a slave trader for the Blue Suns, but before that, I was a gifted Turian Operative!"

Brutus felt the familiar heat of battle rage building in his chest, the primal fury that had earned him his reputation. His yellow eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to pinpoints as he embraced the pain, using it to sharpen his focus rather than dull it.

"You talk too fucking much," Brutus growled, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated in the chest rather than the ears.

Kuril lunged again, the blade arcing toward Brutus's exposed neck in what should have been a killing stroke. The turian's confidence had grown with each successful cut, each drop of the werewolf's blood that spattered the deck. His form was perfect, honed by decades of military discipline and countless battles, a textbook execution of the skiritana's deadly potential.

But he had misread his opponent. Brutus wasn't slowing from blood loss; he was calculating, measuring, waiting.

As the blade sliced through the air, Brutus moved with explosive speed that belied his massive frame. Instead of retreating, he surged forward, deliberately taking the blade along his shoulder in exchange for closing the distance. The skiritana bit deep, but the pain only fueled the primal fury now fully unleashed in the werewolf's system.

"What—" Kuril's exclamation cut short as Brutus's massive hand closed around his wrist with crushing force. Bones splintered beneath the turian's armor plating, the sound like dry twigs snapping.

The blade clattered to the floor as Kuril's nerveless fingers released it involuntarily. Shock registered in the warden's eyes, his mandibles clicking in sudden, belated fear.

"Impossible," Kuril hissed, struggling against the werewolf's implacable grip. "You've lost too much blood, you should be weakening—"

Brutus's other hand shot forward, massive claws wrapping around the turian's throat, lifting him bodily from the floor with terrifying ease. Kuril's feet kicked uselessly in the air, his one functioning hand scrabbling at the werewolf's forearm to no effect.

"Look at me," Brutus snarled, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to bypass the ears and vibrate directly in the bones.

Kuril's eyes, wide with fear, were drawn inexorably to the werewolf's wounds. Where moments before blood had flowed freely, now steam rose from the cuts as they visibly closed before the turian's disbelieving gaze. Flesh knitted together with unnatural speed, the edges of torn muscle and skin rejoining like time-lapse footage of a flower blooming in reverse.

"You're not the first to underestimate my regenerative capabilities," Brutus growled, his grip tightening around Kuril's throat. "My healing factor rivals the best of krogans. These scratches? They'll be gone before your corpse cools."

Kuril's struggles intensified, his armored boots kicking against Brutus's chest with increasing desperation. "Wait! I can offer you—"

"Nothing," Brutus finished for him, bringing the turian's face closer to his own. "You have nothing I want."

Despite his predicament, a flash of defiance crossed Kuril's features. "You think you've won? The Collectors will still come for you! for all of you. I was just the first—"

"And you'll be remembered as a footnote," Brutus interrupted, his yellow eyes boring into Kuril's. "A slave trader who thought he could capture the wolf."

Brutus's grip tightened further, the enhanced muscles in his arm flexing with terrible purpose. "I will say this, though, your blade work was impressive. You had training. Skill. In another life, you might have been worthy of respect."

Kuril's mandibles fluttered weakly, his oxygen-deprived brain beginning to shut down. His last words emerged as barely a whisper: "The... Collectors... will... pay... more... for... your... corpse..."

"Send them my regards," Brutus replied coldly.

With a single, savage twist, Brutus wrenched the turian's head with such force that the vertebrae separated with an audible crack. Kuril's body convulsed once, then went limp, his eyes still open but seeing nothing. Brutus held him aloft for a moment longer, a grim trophy of victory, before unceremoniously dropping the corpse to the floor.

The chamber fell silent as the last of the Blue Suns were dispatched by Shepard and the others. Brutus stood over Kuril's body, his breathing even and controlled despite the exertion. The wounds on his body continued to steam slightly as his enhanced healing factor worked to repair the damage.

"Damn," Garrus commented, approaching with his rifle still at the ready. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Brutus simply kept looking at the fallen Turian, "Don’t sell yourself short, Your at least 3x the soldier he was, and he wasn’t your average Merc either."

Shepard joined them, her armor scorched from combat but her expression satisfied. "Good work. The path to the docking bay should be clear now."

Brutus nodded, bending to retrieve the fallen skiritana blade. He examined it briefly, appreciating the craftsmanship despite its recent use against him. With a fluid motion, he slid it into his belt. "Souvenir," he explained when Shepard raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to kill him," Grunt complained, kicking Kuril's lifeless body with obvious disappointment. "Would have been a good fight."

"You had your fun with the YMIR mech," Brutus reminded him, rolling his shoulder to test the healing wound. It was already closing, the pain reduced to a dull throb. "Besides, I had a score to settle."

Shepard was already moving toward the exit, her focus returning to their primary mission. "Jack can't be far ahead. We need to catch up before she finds transport off this hellhole."

They proceeded through the final security checkpoint, now abandoned as the prison's remaining staff focused on containing the widespread riot. Emergency lighting cast long shadows across the corridor, giving the metal walls an ominous, blood-tinged glow.

The docking bay doors stood partially open, one side jammed from what appeared to be biotic damage. Beyond, they could see the Normandy still securely docked, its sleek form a promise of safety amid the chaos of the disintegrating prison.

A batarian guard's head exploded in a red mist before he could complete his aim on Jack, chunks of skull and brain matter spattering across the pristine airlock floor. She spun toward the sound of the shotgun blast, biotic energy crackling around her fists as she locked eyes with Brutus. The werewolf lowered his smoking Eviscerator, yellow-violet gaze holding hers with calm intensity. Behind her, through the view port, the Normandy's hull gleamed in the harsh lighting, the Cerberus emblem prominently displayed on its bow planes, a detail that transformed Jack's face from battle-ready to venomous in an instant.

"Cerberus," she spat, the word itself a curse on her lips. Her body tensed like a cornered animal, biotic energy pulsing more intensely around her clenched fists. "I should've fucking known."

Shepard stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Jack, we don't have time for this. The station is coming apart."

As if to emphasize her point, a violent shudder ran through the structure, metal groaning under stresses it was never designed to endure. Emergency lights pulsed an angry red, and the distant sound of explosive decompression suggested that sections of the prison were already venting atmosphere.

Jack's eyes darted between the squad and the Normandy, calculating odds and escape routes with the practiced desperation of someone who had spent a lifetime evading capture. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing teeth that seemed too healthy for a criminals mouth.

"I'm not going anywhere with Cerberus." Her voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "I'd rather float."

Shepard sighed, her patience visibly thinning as another explosion rocked the station. "Look, I understand your concerns, but right now—"

"Understand?" Jack's laugh was harsh, brittle. "You don't understand shit. Cerberus took me as a kid. Experimented on me. Tortured me. And now you expect me to just hop aboard their fucking ship?"

Biotic energy crackled more intensely around her slender form, the air itself seeming to warp with the force of her anger. A nearby console sparked and died as her power lashed out unconsciously.

"I'd rather die here than go anywhere with Cerberus puppets," she spat, her dark eyes flashing with genuine hatred.

"We're not working for Cerberus," Shepard insisted, frustration edging into her voice. "We're working with them. There's a difference."

Jack scoffed, the sound raw and contemptuous. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe that? Cerberus doesn't work with people, they use them, then dispose of them when they're done."

The deck beneath them shuddered violently, and a distant alarm began to wail. The prison's automated system announced in a calm, synthetic voice: "Warning: Critical structural failure detected in Sectors 7 through 12. Emergency evacuation protocols initiated."

Brutus had been watching the exchange silently, reading Jack's body language, the defensive posture of someone who'd been betrayed too many times to count. He recognized it intimately, had seen it in the reflection of subordinates often enough.

With deliberate movements, he holstered his shotgun, the weapon sliding into place with a soft click that somehow cut through the chaos around them. Both women turned to look at him as he stepped forward, his massive form moving with a predator's grace.

"Stand down, Shepard," Brutus rumbled, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone accustomed to command. He stepped forward, placing himself between Shepard and Jack.

Jack's biotic aura intensified, but Brutus continued his approach, each step measured and unhurried. He stopped just outside what most would consider striking distance, though for a biotic of Jack's caliber, nowhere was truly safe.

"I don't work for you—," Shepard began, but fell silent when Brutus raised one massive hand.

"Jack," Brutus addressed her directly, his yellow-violet eyes holding hers. "I'm not Cerberus. Neither is my squad."

"Bullshit," she spat, glancing pointedly at the Normandy's hull. "That's their fucking logo right there."

"The ship is theirs. We're not." Brutus spread his arms slightly, palms open. "I'm Brutus, Captain of the Illang: A mercenary outfit. contracted as an independent asset."

Jack's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking to the insignia on his poncho. "Illang? Never heard of you!"

"That's because most who did are dead, including most of my friends and allies" Brutus replied bluntly. "We're a small outfit now. Very exclusive clientele."

Another explosion rocked the station, closer this time. The docking clamps holding the Normandy groaned ominously.

"I don't give a fuck who you are," Jack shot back, though the intensity of her biotic field diminished slightly. "I'm not getting on a Cerberus ship."

"Shepard isn't working for Cerberus; she's working with them," Brutus countered, gesturing toward the commander. "Temporary alliance of convenience. Just like my squad and hers."

Jack's lip curled. "And I'm supposed to believe that? Cerberus doesn't do 'alliances.' They use people, then dispose of them."

"You think I don't know that!? I’ve been around the galaxy kid, Cerberus isn’t the only bad things out there!" Brutus growled, a hint of his own anger bleeding through. "You think I don’t know the burdens of experimentation? Of betrayal?. I may not have remembered who Created this." He gestured at his werewolf form. "Or who I was before it. But I have a few good ideas on who may be involved, so no, I don’t have loyalty for them."

For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Jack's face. She studied him more carefully, noting the scars visible beneath his fur, the way his eyes held the same haunted quality as her own. A beast he may be, but those eyes held human qualities.

"Work for me," Brutus said abruptly. "Not Cerberus. Not Shepard. Me."

"What?" The proposal caught her off guard.

"Join the Illang as a temporary contractor. I need a powerful biotic, and you need to get off this dying station. If you end up liking the gig, maybe we can renegotiate the contract." Brutus held her gaze steadily. "The ship might belong to Cerberus, but you'll answer to me, not them."

"Cerberus has files," she said abruptly. "On me. On what they did. I want them."

Shepard opened her mouth to respond, but Brutus cut her off with a subtle gesture.

"Done," he said simply. "You join my team temporarily, you get access to whatever files Cerberus has on you. No restrictions."

Jack's gaze shifted to Shepard. "Can he make that promise?"

Shepard hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Yes. Full access to any files concerning you."

Jack studied them both, calculation evident in her dark eyes. Another explosion, closer this time, sent tremors through the deck plating. A section of ceiling collapsed twenty meters down the corridor, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

"Fine," she snapped, the biotic energy around her hands finally dissipating. "I'll join your fucking pack or whatever. But this is temporary. I get the files, then I'm gone."

Brutus gave a single, sharp nod. "Understood."

"Now can we please get the fuck out of here?" Jack demanded, already moving toward the Normandy's airlock. "Or are you idiots planning to die in this shithole?"

Garrus chuckled, mandibles flaring slightly. "She'll fit right in."

The group hurried aboard, the Normandy's decontamination cycle barely completing before Joker's voice came over the comm: "Uh, Commander? Not to rush you, but this whole station is about thirty seconds from becoming a really expensive debris field."

"Get us out of here, Joker," Shepard ordered, steadying herself against a bulkhead as the ship disengaged from the crumbling prison.

Jack stood rigid in the airlock, her eyes darting around the Normandy's interior with the wary assessment of a predator in unfamiliar territory. Her gaze lingered on the Cerberus logos emblazoned on various surfaces, each one seeming to heighten her tension.

"I want those files," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Now."

"First things first," Shepard replied, her tone making it clear the matter wasn't up for debate. "Medical check, then briefing, then files."

Jack's expression darkened, biotic energy beginning to crackle around her fists again. "That wasn't the deal."

Brutus stepped between them, his massive frame somehow managing to make the corridor seem even smaller. "The files aren't going anywhere," he said, his voice firm but not threatening. "And neither are you, unless you fancy a space walk."

The Normandy lurched as Joker executed an evasive maneuver, the view port behind them briefly filling with the spectacular sight of Purgatory's central section rupturing in a massive explosion. The shock wave buffeted the ship, causing alarms to briefly sound throughout the deck.

"Kinetic barriers holding," EDI's synthetic voice announced. "Minimal damage sustained. Calculating FTL jump coordinates."

Jack glared at Brutus, then at Shepard, before finally letting the biotic energy dissipate once more. "Fine. Medical. Briefing. Then files. And if anyone tries to fuck with me—" She left the threat unfinished, but the implication was clear.

"No one's going to fuck with you," Brutus assured her, stepping back to give her space. "Unless you want them to."

The comment earned him a surprised look from Jack, followed by something that might almost have been the ghost of a smirk. "Careful, dog-boy. I bite."

"So do I," Brutus replied, his fangs gleaming in the corridor's light. "Now let's get you to medical before Shepard has both our asses."

As they moved deeper into the ship, Shepard fell into step beside Brutus, her voice pitched low enough that only his enhanced hearing would catch it.

"Bold move, making her part of your team. Think you can handle her?"

Brutus watched Jack's slender form moving ahead of them, the coiled tension in her stride, the way her eyes cataloged exits and potential weapons with unconscious efficiency. There was something compelling about her raw power, her unfiltered rage. Something familiar.

"I've handled worse," he murmured back. "Besides, we both know damaged goods when we see them."

Shepard's expression softened slightly. "Just be careful. That much biotic power combined with that much anger is a dangerous combination."

"Dangerous is what we need right now," Brutus replied, his gaze still following Jack. "And something tells me she's exactly the kind of dangerous that will keep us alive in this suicide mission."

The Normandy accelerated away from the dying prison ship, its engines flaring blue-white against the void. Behind them, Purgatory's final death throes illuminated space with brief, brilliant explosions, a funeral pyre for the countless lives lost in its cold corridors.

As they reached the elevator that would take them to the medical bay, Jack paused, turning to face Brutus with an expression that was impossible to read.

"Just so we're clear," she said, her voice low and intense, "I'm not one of your soldiers. I don't follow orders, I don't salute, and I sure as fuck don't play nice with others."

Brutus met her gaze steadily. "Understood. But while you're on my team, there's one rule you do follow."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"

"You survive," Brutus said simply. "Everything else is negotiable."

Something flickered in Jack's dark eyes, recognition, perhaps, or the barest acknowledgment of respect. Without another word, she stepped into the elevator, leaving Brutus and Shepard to follow.

As the doors closed, Brutus caught Garrus watching him with a knowing look. The turian's mandibles twitched in what passed for a smirk among his species.

"What?" Brutus growled.

"Nothing," Garrus replied innocently. "Just wondering if all your recruitment techniques are this... effective."

Brutus bared his teeth in what might have been a smile or a warning. "Fuck off, Vakarian."

The elevator began its descent to the crew deck, carrying them deeper into the Normandy and whatever challenges awaited. Behind them, through the view port, the last remnants of Purgatory Prison disappeared into the darkness of space, one more ghost to haunt the memories of those who had survived its cold embrace.

Dr. Chakwas was waiting for them in the medical bay, her experienced eyes immediately assessing Jack as the biotic entered the sterile white room. The doctor's expression remained professionally neutral despite the younger woman's confrontational stance and minimal attire.

"Please, have a seat," Chakwas gestured to the examination table, her British accent crisp and no-nonsense. "This won't take long."

Jack remained standing, arms crossed defensively over her chest. "I don't need a fucking physical. I'm fine."

"Cryostasis can have subtle physiological effects," Chakwas replied, unperturbed by the hostility. "And I prefer to have baseline readings for all crew members."

"I'm not crew," Jack shot back. "I'm just passing through."

Brutus leaned against the door frame, his massive form nearly filling the entrance. "Sit down, Jack. The sooner this is done, the sooner you get your files. And one more rule everyone follows, Don’t fuck with Chakwas~"

Jack glared at him, but after a moment of tense silence, she hoisted herself onto the examination table with exaggerated reluctance. "Make it quick, doc. I'm not big on being poked and prodded."

Chakwas nodded, activating her medical scanner. "I understand. I'll be as efficient as possible. And thank you Brutus."

As the doctor worked, Shepard turned to Brutus. "I need to report to the Illusive Man. Get Jack settled in, then meet me in the comm room."

"Understood," Brutus replied, his gaze still on Jack as Chakwas performed her examination.

The medical scanner hummed softly as it passed over Jack's tattooed form, collecting data on her vital signs and physiological state. Chakwas studied the readings with professional interest, occasionally making notes on her datapad.

"Remarkable," the doctor murmured, almost to herself. "Your biotic readings are off the charts. I've never seen amplitudes this high in a human subject."

"Yeah, well, being Cerberus’s little experiment has it’s upsides i guess…" The examination went smoothly after. Brutus taking her to the comms room after the check up.

"I know Shepard said to get you settled first, but I have a feeling on where you might prefer to stay. So lets get business out of the way first yeah?" Less of a question and more of a statement passed through his mouth, Jack simply scoffed a “Whatever”

The comm room doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing Miranda Lawson and Shepard already deep in conversation. Miranda stood with perfect posture, her white catsuit emphasizing every curve of her genetically perfect form. She turned as they entered, her ice-blue eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of Jack.

"Ah, our newest acquisition," Miranda said, her Australian accent somehow making the words sound even more condescending. "I'm Miranda Lawson, Cerberus Operative and second-in-command of the Normandy."

Jack's entire body tensed, biotic energy crackling faintly across her skin like static electricity. "Cerberus," she spat, the word dripping with venom. "Should have known they'd send their cheerleader to keep an eye on things."

Miranda's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. "Charming. I see the reports of your antisocial tendencies weren't exaggerated."

"Fuck your reports," Jack snarled, taking a step forward. "And fuck you. Where are my files? That was the deal."

Miranda looked to Shepard, her expression clearly conveying her disapproval. "Commander, I don't think immediate access to classified Cerberus documentation is advisable. We should establish proper protocols first—"

"The files," Jack interrupted, her voice dropping dangerously low as blue energy began to coalesce around her clenched fists. "Now."

Brutus stepped forward, positioning himself between the two women. "We promised her the files as a condition of her joining us. My team, my call."

"Your team?" Miranda's voice could have frozen nitrogen. "This is a Cerberus vessel, operating under Cerberus protocols—"

"Miranda," Shepard interrupted, her tone making it clear the matter wasn't up for debate. "Give her the files."

For a moment, the operative looked as if she might argue further, but instead she tapped a few commands into her omni-tool with sharp, irritated movements. "Very well. Access granted to terminal three. Full clearance to all files regarding Subject Zero."

Jack's lips curled into a vicious smile as she looked at Brutus. "See? Dog says 'sit' and the cheerleader sits."

Miranda's perfect features tightened with barely controlled anger. "I follow Commander Shepard's orders, not the directives of some feral mercenary captain playing soldier."

"Careful, princess," Jack taunted, stepping closer to Miranda with deliberate provocation. "Your perfect ass might be Cerberus property, but mine isn't. Keep talking, and I'll show you what these biotics can do to that pretty face."

Biotic energy flared more intensely around Jack's hands as Miranda's own biotics began to manifest, a subtle blue shimmer outlining her curvaceous form. The air between them seemed to distort with potential energy, the hum of opposing biotic fields creating a subsonic vibration that set Brutus's sensitive ears on edge.

"That's enough," Brutus growled, physically inserting his massive frame between the two women. The movement forced them apart, his towering form creating an impassable barrier. "Save it for the Collectors."

Jack didn't back down, her dark eyes blazing with challenge as she glared up at him. "Get out of my way, wolf. This bitch needs to learn—"

"What you need to learn," Miranda cut in, her voice ice-cold and precise, "is basic discipline. Something you clearly lack, along with proper clothing and basic hygiene."

"Fucking stuck-up Cerberus whore—" Jack lunged forward, only to be caught by Brutus's massive arm as he held her back with seemingly effortless strength.

Brutus let out a weary sigh, looking over at Shepard with an expression that somehow combined exasperation, resignation, and a silent plea for intervention. The commander was watching the exchange with what might have been amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Shepard," Brutus rumbled, still physically restraining Jack while keeping his bulk between her and Miranda, "I think it might be best if I show Jack to her quarters. Somewhere... quiet."

Shepard nodded, the ghost of a smile still lingering. "Good idea. Miranda, we'll continue our briefing. Jack, you'll have full access to your files from any terminal on the ship."

"Whatever," Jack muttered, shrugging off Brutus's restraining arm with a glare that promised future violence. "Just keep the cheerleader out of my way."

"Do try to remember who's funding this mission," Miranda replied coolly. "Without Cerberus, you'd still be frozen in that cell."

"Without Cerberus, I wouldn't have been in that cell in the first place!" Jack snarled, biotic energy flaring again.

Brutus rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular headache. "Jack," he said, his deep voice cutting through the tension, "follow me. I think I know the perfect place for you on this ship."

"This better be good," she muttered, but allowed herself to be led toward the door.

As they exited, Brutus caught Shepard's eye. The commander's expression had shifted from amusement to something more thoughtful, a calculating look that suggested she was already considering how to harness the destructive potential of their newest recruit.

The door hissed shut behind Brutus and Jack, leaving Shepard and Miranda alone in the comm room. The tension in the air lingered like ozone after a biotic discharge, heavy and electric.

"Was that really necessary, Miranda?" Shepard asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Antagonizing our newest recruit within minutes of her arrival?"

Miranda's perfect posture stiffened further. "I was merely establishing proper chain of command, Commander. That woman is dangerous, unstable, and clearly hostile to Cerberus."

"And Brutus?" Shepard's voice took on an edge. "The 'feral mercenary captain playing soldier'? Is that how you see him too?"

Miranda sighed, running a hand through her raven hair. "Brutus is... complicated. His methods are unorthodox, his loyalties unclear, and his influence over you concerning."

"My loyalties are to the mission," Shepard countered, stepping closer. "And Brutus isn't some merc scum you can dismiss. He's a valuable part of this team, with experience that rivals both of ours."

Miranda sighed, running a hand through her immaculate black hair. "I can assess his capabilities objectively, Shepard. Without the... bias you seem to have developed for our lupine associate."

A cocky knowing smile spread across Shepard's lips. She could also play dirty. "bias? That's rich coming from you, Miranda." She leaned against the conference table, her posture deliberately casual. "Especially considering what Kelly told me about your sparring session with our 'feral mercenary' while I was out recruiting Mordin."

The faintest Color rose in Miranda's cheeks. "That's—I was simply—"

"What was it you said?" Shepard continued, enjoying the rare sight of the normally composed operative flustered. "Something about how his 'tactical acumen was impressive' and how he 'moved with surprising grace for someone so massive'?"

"Physical assessment is part of my job," Miranda insisted, though her eyes dropped to the datapad in her hands with sudden interest. "I was evaluating his combat potential."

"And did your evaluation include that comment about his fur being 'unexpectedly soft'?" Shepard's grin widened. "Or how his Tone was 'rather charming when he wasn't growling?"

Miranda's ice-blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I see Kelly needs a reminder about discretion in mission reports."

"She didn't say any of that last part to me," Shepard replied. "I could see it on your face when I got back. You were different. Lighter somehow. Brutus has that effect on people."

"This is highly inappropriate, Commander!." Miranda turned away, busying herself with the terminal. "We have mission parameters to discuss."

Shepard moved to stand beside her, voice softening. "Look, Miranda, I'm not judging. Hell, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed how he fills out that armor." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "But I need my XO and my tactical advisor working together, not at odds. Brutus respects you, even if he doesn't show it the way you'd prefer."

Miranda's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "Respect is irrelevant. Effectiveness is what matters. And despite my... personal observations, I remain unconvinced of his ultimate loyalty to our cause. As a merc his loyalty was bought, not earned…"

"His loyalty isn't to Cerberus," Shepard acknowledged. "It's to me, to this crew, to stopping the Collectors. Isn't that enough?"

A moment of silence stretched between them before Miranda finally turned to face Shepard again, her professional mask firmly back in place. "For now, Commander. But I'll be watching him. And Jack."

"I'd expect nothing less," Shepard replied. "Just try to be less... confrontational with both of them. We need their skills, not their resentment. And you never know when you’ll need his help. As a third nonjudgmental party, Brutus is a good person to turn to when you need help and don’t know who to trust."

Miranda listened, but she had nothing else to say.

Meanwhile Brutus and Jack were taking a long Elevator ride, even though it only had two floors to go

The elevator ride down was tense with Jack's barely contained anger vibrating the enclosed space. She stood as far from Brutus as possible, arms crossed defensively over her chest, dark eyes fixed on the floor indicator as if willing it to move faster.

"The cheerleader's your type, isn't she?" Jack suddenly accused, breaking the silence. "All tits and ass in that fucking catsuit. Bet you're just dying to get your paws on that."

Brutus cracked a grin, his fangs gleaming in the elevator's dim light. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't appreciate the view. Miranda's genetic perfection is... impressive." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "But I'm not particularly picky when it comes to potential mates."

"Fucking man-whore," Jack snorted, though the insult lacked real venom. Her posture relaxed slightly, arms uncrossing as she leaned against the elevator wall.

Brutus placed a clawed hand over his chest, his expression one of mock hurt. "You wound me deeply. I prefer 'romantically adaptable." He winked, the gesture oddly charming on his fierce features. "Besides, have you looked around this ship? It seems to be filling with beautiful women with each mission. Shepard, Miranda, now you. It's becoming quite the collection of Femme Fatales."

Jack rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of color touched her pale cheeks. "Save the sweet talk for someone who gives a shit."

"Can't blame a wolf for trying," Brutus rumbled, his yellow-violet eyes traveling appreciatively over her tattooed form. "You had me practically breathless when I first saw you, you know. Tearing apart those YMIR mechs like they were made of paper? Magnificent."

Jack whirled on him, a dangerous glint in her eye, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Bullshit. You were probably just checking if I was worth the credits Cerberus paid."

"Oh, I was definitely assessing your value," Brutus agreed, his voice dropping to a rumble. "Just not in credits."

"Fuck off," Jack shot back, but there was less venom in her tone now. "Your pickup lines are worse than your fighting style."

"My fighting style got us off that prison ship alive," Brutus countered, leading her down a corridor toward the engineering deck. "And for the record, that wasn't a pickup line. Just an observation."

"Yeah? What would you call it then?" Jack challenged, following him despite herself.

"Professional courtesy between dangerous people," Brutus replied smoothly. "Speaking of which, I think you'll appreciate where I'm putting you."

He led her through the engineering section, past startled technicians who quickly moved out of their path, and down a short stairwell to a secluded area beneath the main deck. The space was dimly lit, industrial, with exposed pipes and conduits running along the ceiling. A makeshift living area had been set up, with a large sleeping pallet against one wall and a workbench against another.

"Welcome to my quarters," Brutus announced, gesturing to the space. "Or should I say, our quarters now."

Jack froze, her expression shifting rapidly from surprise to suspicion. "What the fuck is this? You expecting me to bunk with you? To fuck you as payment?"

Brutus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "This is the only area on the ship where Cerberus doesn't have surveillance. No cameras, no audio pickups, no monitoring equipment. I swept it myself when I first came aboard. Figured you'd appreciate the space to yourself... well, mostly to yourself."

Jack circled the area cautiously, like a predator assessing new territory. "And you're just giving it up out of the goodness of your heart? Bullshit."

"Not giving it up," Brutus clarified. "Sharing it. I sleep here too. This cot's mine." He pointed to a larger sleeping pallet tucked into an alcove. "That one can be yours. We're bunkmates now."

"And what makes you think I won't kill you in your sleep?" Jack demanded, though her eyes continued to survey the space with growing interest.

"I’d like to see you try and sneak up on me, But the same thing that makes me think I won't kill you in yours," Brutus replied with a shrug. "Mutual benefit. You need space away from Cerberus eyes. I need someone watching my back who isn't on their payroll. Simple transaction."

Jack ran her fingers along the edge of the workbench, considering. "Why trust me? You don't know me."

"I know enough," Brutus said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I know what it's like to be experimented on, to be turned into something you never asked to be. To have your life decided by people in labs. Very few can relate thankfully."

Jack's dark eyes met his, searching for deception. Finding none, she let out a long breath. "Fine. But touch me without permission, and I'll rip your balls off."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Brutus assured her, a hint of his earlier grin returning. "Unless you ask nicely."

Jack snorted, but the sound was almost amused. "In your dreams, wolf-boy."

"Speaking of which," Brutus continued, gesturing to a Datapad terminal in the corner, "that's linked to the ship's main database. Your files should be accessible from there. Full access, as promised."

Jack's attention immediately shifted to the terminal, her expression hardening with purpose. "About fucking time."

As she moved to the computer, Brutus added casually, "I'll give you privacy for that. Need to check in with Shepard anyway. But Jack—" She paused, glancing back at him. "Whatever's in those files... it doesn't define you. Remember that."

Jack's face closed off, her walls slamming back into place. "Don't pretend you know me, or what I need to hear. Just go."

Brutus nodded, respecting her boundaries. As he turned to leave, Jack's voice stopped him.

"Why this arrangement? Really. Why not stick me in some cargo hold?"

Brutus considered his answer carefully. "Because I've seen what isolation does to people who've already been through hell. And because having you nearby means I can keep an eye on the most powerful weapon on this ship."

A flicker of something, perhaps respect, crossed Jack's features. "At least you're honest about it."

"Always," Brutus promised, then gestured to a small refrigeration unit tucked into a corner. "There's beer in there. Not great, but cold."

"Trying to get me drunk already?" Jack shot back, but her tone lacked real accusation.

"Just being hospitable." Brutus paused at the stairs. "I'll be back in a few hours. Make yourself comfortable... or don't. Your choice."

As he climbed the stairs, he heard the soft beep of the terminal activating, followed by the rapid tap of fingers on keys. Whatever Jack found in those files would likely change the dynamic between them, possibly for the worse. But Brutus had meant what he said, she was a weapon, possibly the most powerful human biotic he'd ever encountered, and keeping her close was both strategic and, if he was honest with himself, intriguing.

The engineering deck was quieter than usual as he made his way back toward the elevator. The crew had clearly given the area a wide berth after seeing Jack, a reaction Brutus understood but found disappointing. Fear bred isolation, and isolation bred resentment, a cycle he'd seen play out too many times before.

He was halfway to the elevator when Miranda stepped out, her perfect features set in their usual mask of cool professionalism. She stopped when she saw him, one eyebrow arching elegantly.

"I see you've settled our newest acquisition," she said, her accent clipping the words precisely. "In your quarters, no less. Interesting choice."

Brutus met her gaze steadily. "She needs space and privacy. My quarters provide both."

"And your motives are entirely professional, I'm sure," Miranda replied, her tone making it clear she believed otherwise.

Brutus stepped closer to Miranda, his massive frame towering over her. Despite her genetic perfection and biotic capabilities, he knew she would never stand a chance against him in close quarters. Yet she didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with cool defiance that he couldn't help but admire.

"My motives are keeping this ship running and this mission successful," he rumbled, voice low enough that only she could hear. "Jack has power we need, and trust issues we don't. She stays with me where I can watch her."

"Watch her? Or fuck her?" Miranda's perfect lips curved into an arrogant smile. "I've reviewed your psychological profile, Captain. Your appetites are well-documented."

"Careful, cheerleader," Brutus growled, using Jack's nickname deliberately. "You're starting to sound jealous."

A faint flush of color rose in Miranda's cheeks, though whether from anger or embarrassment was hard to tell. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm concerned about operational security. Subject Zero is unstable, dangerous, and has every reason to sabotage this mission."

"Her name is Jack," Brutus corrected. "And she's no more unstable than anyone else Cerberus has fucked with." He paused, letting his gaze travel slowly down Miranda's perfect form before meeting her eyes again. "Present company included."

Miranda's ice-blue eyes narrowed. "I am nothing like that psychotic little girl. I was enhanced, perfected. She was broken."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Brutus leaned closer, inhaling her scent, expensive perfume layered over the clean smell of soap and the distinctive eezo trace of every biotic. "That you're different because daddy bought your perfection instead of Cerberus stealing it?"

The slap was so fast even his enhanced reflexes barely registered it coming. The impact stung his cheek, though he didn't flinch or move away. Miranda stood with her hand still raised, her chest rising and falling rapidly with barely controlled emotion.

"You know nothing about me," she hissed, her voice trembling slightly.

Brutus caught her wrist as she lowered it, his massive hand engulfing hers with surprising gentleness. "I know more than you think, Miranda Lawson. I know the look of someone who's never been allowed to fail, who's never been permitted to be anything less than perfect."

Miranda tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly, not hurting her but not releasing her either. "Let go of me."

"When you calm down," he replied, his voice dropping to a rumble. "I'm not your enemy, Miranda. Neither is Jack. We're all on the same fucked-up team here."

Something shifted in her expression, the perfect mask cracking just slightly to reveal vulnerability beneath. "She's a liability. A walking time bomb."

"So am I," Brutus countered, finally releasing her wrist. "So is Shepard. So is Grunt, Zaeed, Garrus, Even yourself. This whole damn ship is filled with walking time bombs. The trick is making sure we all explode in the right direction, at the right time."

Miranda rubbed her wrist absently, though he knew he hadn't hurt her. "And you think you can point Jack in the right direction? When she clearly hates everything Cerberus stands for?"

"I don't need her to love Cerberus," Brutus said. "I just need her to want to kill Collectors more than she wants to kill you at the moment."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Miranda's mouth. "That's a rather low bar."

"I'm a practical wolf," Brutus replied, his own lips curling to reveal sharp canines in what might have been a smile or a threat. "Now, was there something specific you needed from engineering, or did you just come down to make sure your investments weren’t already going at it?"

Miranda scoffed, the flush now receding as she regained control that she always seemed to lose when the damned wolf was near. "Just making my rounds captain, though I’ll try and play nice, for the missions sake."

"It’s a start I guess." Brutus walked into the elevator, but the mood was too tense to be left there, before the elevators could close, he got his final words in, "And Miranda, I’m always free for another sparring match whenever you want~"

The doors closed, Miranda shook her head with a headache forming “What the hell am I getting into on this mission?” she thought to nobody in particular

The elevator doors opened on the CIC deck, where Shepard was conversing with Kelly Chambers at her terminal. The commander looked up as Brutus approached, excusing herself from the conversation.

"Jack settled?" Shepard asked, falling into step beside him as they moved toward the armory.

"As settled as someone like her gets," Brutus replied. "She's reviewing her files now."

Shepard nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Good. And your decision to bunk with her?"

"Tactical," Brutus said simply. "Better to keep potential threats close."

"And your interest is purely tactical?" Shepard pressed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Brutus stopped walking, turning to face her directly. "Is there something you want to ask me, Commander?"

Shepard met his gaze unflinchingly. "Just making sure your head's in the game, Brutus. We can't afford distractions, not with what we're facing."

"My head's exactly where it needs to be," Brutus assured her. "And Jack is many things, but a distraction isn't one of them. She's an asset, possibly the most powerful biotic we could have hoped for."

"And the fact that she's attractive doesn't factor into your decision at all?" Shepard's tone remained light, but her eyes were calculating.

Brutus bared his teeth in what might have been a grin. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice. Just like I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice how you look in combat armor, or how Miranda fills out that catsuit. This is a suicide mission after all Shepard, not to kill the mood but there is always a possibility none of us come back. Is it not best to enjoy the things we can, while we can?."

A flash of something, surprise, perhaps, or amusement crossed Shepard's features. "Fair enough, I suppose there is nothing wrong with enjoying some R&R while we still can. Just keep it professional. The mission might require sacrifice and we don’t need emotional attachment to get in the way of our decisions."

"Always do," Brutus replied. "Now, was there something else you needed, or can I get back to my duties?"

Shepard studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Me and the Illusive man have came to the conclusion that the collectors will be making a move in the next 48 hours, Mordin is almost finished his counter measures for the swarm. I want you, Jack, and Zaeed to be ready to lead a second ground team when it’s time."

"Jack?" Brutus couldn't hide his surprise. "You're putting her in the field already?"

"Best way to assess her capabilities," Shepard replied pragmatically. "And if the intel is correct, we'll need every biotic we can get. So you up to the promotion Captain? I know it’s been awhile since leading your own team."

Brutus nodded, understanding the logic even if he questioned the timing. "I understand Shepard. We'll be waiting. The Illang will be ready on your command."

"Good. Now get your furry ass some rest before the next battle." Shepard let a smile grace her features, This rag tag team was building up nicely. Fingers crossed, but maybe they could get through the collector home world safely.