A/N: Hey fellas.

This is my first fan fiction ever, and I'm quite excited to tell you guys the story. This was born out of my love for Mass Effect and my desire to put a story out there of my own.

English is not my first language, but it is a close second. I really hope to improve my grammar, spelling, word-use and so on. Please, feel free to send feedback on these issues.

In fact, all types of reviews are welcome, and I love to read all of them.

Anyhow, please enjoy the story.


With a single push of a button on the terminal, a video file showed up. The display asked if the person standing behind the screen wanted to play it. They accepted.

"Video log #0032 inserted, please stand by…

Loading complete."

The video opens up showing what appears to be a regular leather couch. The lights are fairly dimmed and the whole scene seems to have an empty feel to it. Within a few seconds, a person appears. Not a lot of audio is present. No background noise, no one is talking. Just the sounds of the leather couch adjusting to the weight placed upon it.

The man has, what appears to be, a military combat uniform on. Complete with a bullet proof vest, ammo pouches, belt with holster and, perhaps most strange of all, leather boots that reach mid- calf on the man's legs. His face can't be seen. It's hidden beneath a mask, a white cross is painted in it.

His first action is taking off said mask, only to reveal a bandaged hand underneath it. Scars and burn marks can clearly be seen around his eyes and mouth. He coughs, and prepares to speak. He looks around first, as if checking if anyone is present. Then, he looks into the camera. His blue eyes lock with the lens.

"My name is Mads Aleksandrovich Romanov… I am making this video in the situation that I may never be able to tell my story again. I was born on the 31st of august, 1992 in St. Petersburg….. In Russia." He takes a pause. His voice is rather deep, and has a faint fatigue sound to it.

"My father was a prince….. Or he would have been, have it not been for the fact that the Romanovs were thrown out or killed in 1918….. My mother was from a Prussian-" He chuckled a bit, before saying "I guess there is no such thing as Prussia anymore. " He then returned to the serious tone. -She was from a Prussian noble family. Neither of them had any great wealth….. Or political power…." The man looked down at his hands, which almost seemed to be locked in a never-ending prayer.

"My father thought Russia would welcome the Romanovs back with open arms after the Soviet government fell apart…..-" The man looked back into the camera. "-He was wrong…. No one wanted us back….." He took another pause to breathe. "We left Russia in 1997, after years of facing hardships…. I was 5 at the time. I had a sister at that point….. Maria was her name." The man retreated into deep thought at the mention of his sister. He blinked a few times and quickly wiped his eyes before continuing.

"We moved to Denmark….. Got a sweet baby brother as well, Anders was his name." The man finally broke the prayer and dug his hand deep into his pocket, and fished out a pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, gave it light, and took a deep drag of it. Once he had exhaled the smoke, he locked eyes with the camera again.

"I don't remember much about my childhood….. Only that it had its ups and downs. But, as far as I remember, I was a happy kid. I had friends…. I studied….. I endured…." He took another drag of the cigarette.

"I followed in my mother's footsteps and went to business school….. Got an education I never really got to use that much…..." He once again gave a quick chuckle, as if telling a joke only he would ever understand.

"My life changed one day…. When I got a letter. This was back in… 2010? The year is a blur." He clarified. "It told me, that I had to get my ass back to Russia….. I was going in the army….. I was terrified." He laughed.

"Spend some time in boot camp, re learning whatever Russian I hadn't learned from my father…. And got assigned to the Presidential Cavalry Escort Battalion, 12th company…." He remarked as he took another drag of his cigarette. "Ura!" he added sarcastically. He leaned back in the couch as he exhaled the smoke. "Even got the chance to march as the very front of the sacred war march during the 70th annual victory parade in Moscow. Life was good at that point. Meet myself a cute girl named Nika….. I had good friends….. Lived a good life in the military." He looked nostalgic as he retold his life in those times.

"One day…. I get a promotion. They wanted to transfer me to the Alpha team under Spetsnaz. I was a man in my early 20'ties, who doesn't want that kind of excitement in that point of their life? Life was still good… Until they started volunteering me for missions…." He explained.

"Syria was a long way from Russia, but it was locked in civil war. Our governments wanted to help each other, and that meant people like me got a chance to experience war up close. Boots on the ground….. It strained my relationship with most I knew. I fought, I endured… I was a successful officer, even earned a few medals here and there. I should have counted myself lucky that my heart kept beating, and death hadn't knocked on my door yet." His voice turned more grim.

"That was until one day….. It did." His eyes bore directly into whoever was watching on the other side.

" Video file corrupt…. Attempting reconstruction…

Reconstruction failed… Awaiting user input…"