The Commander sat at the edge of her bed, elbows resting on her knees, hands covering her mouth. The only lights that illuminated the small room were the blue glow from her fish tank, and the neon orange glow of her clock radio. A grown escaped the woman’s lips. She felt stagnate. After defeating the Reapers, there wasn’t much call or need for her. She was a weapon that did it’s part and now was left to collect dust on a shelf. She lowered her hands and gently rubbed her shoulder, ” So, what now? ” Shepard whispered softly to herself.
"Me? I’m afraid I’m not very interesting, Commander. I spend most of my time on remote digs, unearthing mundane items buried in long-forgotten Prothean ruins."