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Three Heads of Cerberus

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It took several years of faithful service, one destroyed ship and one death for Shepard to finally realize that while she had been willing to do anything for the Council, Council wouldn't move the proverbial, as well as literal, finger to do anything for her. For humanity.

She spoke to them. She asked them. She begged them for help, on her knees, voice desperate as she remembered the Reapers amassing in the Sol system, in her plea for their help. If not in fight, than at least with evacuating the civilians.

And they told her one resounding no, the Asari Councilor having at least the decency to look sorry. The other alien Councilor just looked smug.

They enjoy seeing us on our knees, was the thought that flooded Shepard's mind. This is what they wanted all along - to break us, to force us submit, so they could either uplift or destroy us. Now they have the Reapers to do their dirty job. And in that moment, she felt all the desperation in her turn to anger.

And hate.

"Is this your final word, Councilors?" she asked, remnants of manners making her sound calm and at least slightly respectful. At their nods she let her lips form a sneer, baring her teeth in universal gesture of threat.

"So be it."

She turned her back on the Council, stomping from the Chamber with Human Councilor's voice carrying after her. "If this is the response humanity gets for their plea for help, we, people of Earth, are leaving the Council races."

Donell Udina. The man whom she always thought capable of only throwing sticks under her feet marched after her, tears of hopeless anger streaming down his cheeks. The Earth was burning, the Reapers raining fire and destruction on the home of their ancestors, and they were unable to do anything for nearly all humans on the planet.

However, as they were walking towards the dock where Normandy was docked, Shepard's omnitool pinged with urgency. "Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Hackett. We may have solution."

They had. It was the most painful decision any of them ever had to make, but it was matter of survival of at least handful of people they could manage to evacuate from the burning planet.

The Reapers will be dealt with, and after them, the Council will have to deal with the fallout of their actions, even if it were the last thing humanity would do.

-o.O.o-

The news of Sol system exploding on itself, successfully destroying the Reapers (as well as all the planets and stations there) in the system, hit the Citadel news like a flame storm, shocking everyone.

Especially since after the news, humans completely disappeared from public; it was as if aliens blinked and in the miniscule time their eyes were closed the humans took their leave.

Only thing that remained after them had been the infamous yellow-black logo with a note attached.

Humanity will never forget.

-o.O.o-

It was nearly two decades since the destruction of Reapers when the rumours about human sightings started. Ships bigger than the humans used to have ever before, being able to pull manoeuvres which shouldn't really be possible, at speeds which surprised everyone, the yellow logo always proudly displayed on their hulls.

Those ships were also coming out and back in again from Omega Four relay. The relay which used to lead to the homeworld of Collectors, until they were destroyed by Commander Shepard.

Only now the Councilors remembered that their former Spectre never really disclosed the details of how to get through the relay and back again in one piece. But, she never hid that she left the Collector station intact, leaving it to Cerberus to study.

That was when the human ships flew from the relay and started invasion.

-o.O.o-

The galaxy was at war. The worlds were burning, mercilessly bombed from the orbit. And at the very tip of the sword pointing through the galaxy had been Normandy, once again rebuilt, with Shepard, the same, just older and much angrier, leading the way.

The fight, if there was any time to actually put up any, had been always short and without the possibility of surrender, leaving trail of blood, ashes and tears in their wake.

And the Council, the almost completely the same one as was saved by Commander Shepard over twenty years ago, had found themselves staring into Shepard's eyes over barrell of her gun, with holo of a man in a suit, with a cigar in his hand and glowing blue eyes, behind her.

"Humanity sends their greetings, Councilors."

The civilizations always end with a whimper, as the countless Harvests could tell. But this one was different. This one wasn't organics against synthetics. This one was organics against organics; it started with a whimper, continued with bang, and ended in flames.