Diagnosis

By Misfire Anon

It is done.

Saren lies quietly on the floor, listening to the hum of the machinery, the beating of that enormous and ancient heart. He feels it pulse, impossibly, in rhythm with his own organic copy. Oh, he realizes, probing the bare metal on his chest with a certain degree of absentmindedness, he is the copy now. Synthetic life forms are the originals. He is convinced of this. His hand touches the cold floor gingerly, as if he were really lying on a thick-walled chamber of Sovereign’s heart. There is a light beneath the floor, a cool blue in colour, shining through the translucent material. This material feels strange; too hard for metal, too cool for glass. The flesh of a Reaper.

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Blur

By Misfire Anon

The gun in his hand is past the label of ‘outdated’ and well on its way into the category called ‘antique’. He clutches it like a lifeline nonetheless. I am almost sorry. Then I remember all the choices he must have made during the life that dyed his hair grey and I am not sorry anymore. This is how such things go. Some are armed with Carnifexes and some with museum pieces. Obtain the former at all costs, if life’s what you value. The latter look nice next to your corpse.

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Mass Effect Fanfiction by Misfire Anon

This is a complete archive of Mass Effect fanfiction written by Misfire Anon, my dear friend and collaborator, who recently gave me the green light to host all their stories.

Stories

Misfire Fills