Well, it appears mass effect fanfiction has taken a back seat compared to everything else. I'm currently in the middle of a fan fiction project for Ghost in the Shell, which, i might add, has been fully checked for grammar and all neccesary corrections made. I've gone over this one again to try and correct those mistakes.

Enjoy reading (again)

Shepard's Bad Day

To most onlookers, it was a strange sight to see a Krogan and a Turian completely tooled up with weapons following a human male so meekly. The Male human was around 6 foot, at least a a head shorter then the two aliens flanking him, with dark skin and piercing grey eyes strapped into a matt-black combat suit. The combat suit was clearly Alliance make, a covering of thick armoured sheets and a retrofitted shield modulator attached to the back Panel. Quite visible on the back of the human’s neck, a small silver biotic amplifier was plugged directly into his implants, there was a faint smell of ozone coming from this device which wafted through the crowded space. Any onlookers who saw the mismatched party walk through the brightly lit wards would have been most taken aback by the expression of pure rage on the human’s face, his jaw set determinedly, the worried expression the Turian bore on its face.

Commander Jack Shepard felt his implants flare painfully and grimaced. They'd been acting up for the past week now, causing him up most angst. He ground his teeth to alleviate the pain.

Garrus was feeling increasingly worried, Shepard’s moods were becoming worse. He had never understood the human’s reliance on the emotions but Shepard never seemed to smile, his face always an impassive mask, emotions seemed to be unused, non-existent, but now Shepard seemed to be boiling with rage, which surprised him, such a small human radiating such hatred. Wrex however seemed to be enjoying himself immensely as they strode across the wide open space between the stalls of the lower markets in the Wards. He appeared to be waiting for something to happen, to allow the Commander to lose his cool would probably be very amusing to the Krogan. Wrex lived for conflict, to fight and to kill was all he ever seemed to do except to lean against packing crates in the Normandy’s hold and make snide comments in the usual throaty voice to passing crew members.

They rounded a corner, Shepard brushing aside the two Asari who made as if to climb the stairs as the fuming human passed them by leaving Garrus with the view of Shepard’s head quickly moving away from him leaving the two shocked and disgruntled Asari in his wake.

He had every right to be angry, he had spent the morning trawling through C-Sec’s files searching for a clue to a group of Organ smugglers, operating out of the wards.

These guys were good he thought as the always exuberant fan Conrad Verner seemed to wither from the stare Shepard gave him a he started forward to greet the commander. A whole morning wasted, the Smugglers had laid hundreds of false trails, a field of crap as Shepard called it much to Tali’s disgust.

He knocked over a Volus shopper as he passed causing it to roll away comically, arms flailing madly as it struggled to get a grip on the smooth floor before slamming hard into a shop counter, Shepard also had spent the last mission on a prototype op, a new Pressurised suit. He had spent the last 4 days communicating in sign language as the suits comm’s weren’t working, he briskly side stepped Emily Wong, giving her a look which could of frozen Venus, she made a noise like a mouse been trodden on and shrunk back against the pillar she usually skulked around.

Shepard earlier that morning had also found a group of crewmen making bootleg Whiskey in amongst some packing crates in the Normandy’s hold. The bootleg was incredibly volatile stuff and as the last contraband Shepard tried off duty after confiscating it, resulting in temporary blindness and a week in the sickbay sucking Medi-Gel Lozenges, he treated this stuff very warily. Even so, the drink he found wasn’t as volatile, the liquid actually didn’t melt through the cups like last time, though Tali found good use for it in the engines, cleaning out the exhaust tubes. Which weren't working, Shepard had learnt so many Quarian swearwords over the past few days. The Normandy was grounded for a day as Joker, lying moaning pitifully in the sick bay, recovered from his hangover while been administered to by Liara. He appeared to be enjoying the special treatment a little too much for Shepard’s liking. The wannabe bootleggers were given the job of cleaning out all the dead monkeys stuck to the MAKOS wheels after Wrex’s first and last time he got behind the wheel. He navigated a slowly opening door, chewing his lip as he tried to collect his thoughts.

Ahead a slow Elcor seemed to fill the corridor. Liara was helpful though he thought calming a little, those meditation techniques really…..

“Get out the bloody way!” he roared at the slow moving Elcor.

……weren’t working at all, catching the lift doors before they closed and stepping inside, Garrus and Wrex struggling to keep up. As Shepard turned he could see the surprised looking Elcor as the door closed on the small cramped space..

The lift slowly began to move downward lights from the shaft sides illuminating the compartment briefly as they lazily passed by. Wrex seemed to relax slightly sinking slightly, taking on a vaguely toad like appearance as he stared ahead, almost thoughtfully. It was completely silent except for the slight humming. Shepard chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully trying to ignore the buzzing in his ears.

Garrus started whistling through his teeth at this point, staring intently at the lift door. To Shepard, this was extremely annoying, in fact to the entire human race the noise Garrus was making was completely unbearable. Turian’s don’t have teeth to speak of. They have fangs, been reptilian, which aren’t particularly designed to whistle with. He probably picked up from Ashley who whistled as she checked the Armour reports. That was more tuneful, what Garrus was doing wasn’t, it sounded like finger nails been scraped down a chalk board or a cat been trodden on. Shepard half turned and fixed Garrus with a cold stare, Garrus gulped and stopped.

The lights in the shaft still moved lazily past, quietly humming, as the lift slowly made its way downwards. He pursed his lips and sucked them in, in a bored kind of way, behind him Garrus shifted from foot to foot trying to release he cramp that was building in his leg. Wrex still stood rather squat looking staring vacantly ahead, seemingly uninterested in any of his surroundings.

The Protheans ,Shepard thought, what have we got to thank them for, The Mass Relays the Citadel, or Communication beacons which mentally cripple those who read them and these goddamn slow elevators!. He rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder and stretched, acutely aware of his foot going to sleep. He really had to calm down, the last biotic attack had lead to a monster migraine causing him to spend at least 5 hours in the Med Bay been handed cold towels. At least the new amp worked better then the last. After one major fire fight, Liara spent a while picking pieces of the old amp which were imbedded Shepard’s neck after it exploded due to over usage. Kaiden had found this very funny, the amount of times Shepard ended up in the sickbay was a source of amusement to the rest of the crew. Doctor Chakwas was becoming very worried about him, she had treated him for hundreds of cuts, near strangulation, asphyxiation, migraines, nose bleeds, blood clots, near decapitation, mind burners and, of course, been shot several times. And now stress, he could taste blood in the back of his throat, his mouth feeling like parchment, the usual signs of a migraine.

He hadn’t slept in over 4 days. He would just lie awake listening to the humming of the engines and Liara, once again forgetting about sleeping, muttering to herself as she picked apart whatever Prothean relic they had discovered during the day. To sleep for Shepard was full of Nightmares, he had had them since he was a child, a constant cacophony of voices roaring through his head, night after night. His Parents had though they had lost the problem in adolescence, and then Eden Prime the Porthean beacon brought the voices back.

“The Commander is aboard, Exo Pressley stands relieved” intoned the female voice across the Normandy’s bridge, the de-contamination chambers doors hissing slowly open. The usually full work stations were nearly all empty, along the bridge, the crew themselves were out on shore-leave while Joker recovered. Leaving Garrus and Wrex shedding their armour in the chamber, Shepard, face contorted in an exrememley angry expression, feeling his sanity coming away piece by piece walked along the bridge's length trying to get to his cabin, where, hopefully, there was no-one to disturb him. The doors to the officer’s mess opened quickly as he passed his hand over the door opening console, allowing him access to the stair downwards. At one point he had to stop and grip his nose tightly as a sudden pain shot through his sinuses causing him to squint suddenly, he staggered catching the banister to stop himself falling. He held on grimly, pausing moment as his vision returned. He reached the bottom of the stairs slowly, there were spots in front of his eyes as the migraine took hold, damn, he thought, those lights are bright squinting in the sudden glare as he entered for the officers mess. He could see the entrance to his cabin ahead as he quickened his pace, around 5 metres to peace and quiet.

“Shepard!”

It took all of his self control not to turn around an strangle the person who spoke, he looked around and through half closed eyes saw Liara standing clutching a large red box to her chest tightly.

“Shepard, I…..”

“Now is really not the time” he snapped interrupting her mid-sentence, spinning on his heel, through the door to his cabin behind him. The door shut with a click in Liara’s face leaving her speechless, still clutching the large box, maybe just a little tighter to her chest, looking a little winded and increasingly upset.