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"When were you gonna tell me, hmm? You weren't--I know you weren't. You were waiting for Hackett to do it, weren't you? 'I'm sorry, Shepard, but your husband has been killed in action on Torfan.'" Heather Shepard opened her eyes and blinked heavily. The waking world filtered back into her mind slowly as she stretched and yawned, squirming and flopping over in bed. The faint voices of her parents grabbed her attention--she tilted her head to the side and held her breath to get a better listen. "How could you do that to me? HOW?" The little girl startled at her mother's roar; one small arm was still tightly hooked around a large stuffed Krog

“You’re crazy, you know that.” A warm hand rested against the well folded, pressed and ironed shoulder pad of an overly expensive suit he had been coaxed into purchasing. Dallas’ voice was a tiny whisper, more akin to an annoyance, much like a gnat that buzzed against his ear drums as his facial expression turned from a respectful slightly tucked frown to a sly smirk, his eyes glanced briefly by his side as he proceeded to roll his shoulders back to readjust his aching muscles. His hands remained folded in front of him and his posture continued to be a flawless stiff proper stance as his toes curled in his polished bla

Rockets: It all happened so fast, Dakota had no time to react. There were waves of Cerberus troops flooding in on their position, they were trapped. One of the assault troopers nailed her right through her chest plate and shoulder pad rendering her firing arm useless. The shrapnel of their grenades was ripping apart her face, her helmet long since abandoned due to the waves of smoke seeping into the tiny room. Her biotics felt overly taxed while her lungs wheezed, feverishly searching for fresh air. She could hear the scratchy noises of Centurions comms shouting orders to their squads trying to flank their position. Dakota pressed her back t