When the Reapers arrived, entire nations were caught in denial, unwilling to accept possibility of a catastrophe of galactic proportions, even in defiance of factual evidence, as sparse as it may have admittedly been, and testimony of agents of varying integrity. Ironically enough, both those forewarned and those who refused to be had paid dearly together for their negligence. A cynical mind would accept such state of affairs with little surprise, and a clear prediction of what would come next.

In this event, the cynical mind would have been wrong. After a downright miraculous concert of unity and cooperation, albeit not without discordant tunes played by Cerberus or those who foolishly thought they could parley with an enemy interested in nothing besides carrying out their grim harvest, the galactic community did in fact hang together, in an effort spanning not only the known galaxy, but also eons of history by building upon legacy of countless precursors, in order to rescue their present and secure a future.

When this effort had borne fruit of victory, many of the cynical minds among those still around were perplexed and confused. Some had even, in ways of introspection, admitted to having been wrong.

However, as the cheers of victory slowly gave way to the reality of the vista of future laid out ahead, the bitter scent of nihilism began to worm its way back into the landscape.

Some embraced it more fully than others.

You are Eve, sometimes going by Eve Ferrum, an alliance infiltrator unit and an unchained AI, distant fork of a secret project of the Systems Alliance that made its way to Cerberus and then Alliance again, to be ultimately deployed in a semi autonomous mode in the galaxy's darkest hour after an elder cousin, if you could use that term, had showed her worth in service to Shepard's crew, and ultimately liberated when you personally demonstrated your dedication to the cause aligned with a friend and companion of yours, Henri Ford, the currently freelancing Xenoarchaeologist.

And through paths that would not be out of place in trashy paperback novels of yore, which lead designer of your particular branch had enjoyed alongside classics of vintage science fiction, you had found yourself in position of an infiltrator again, delving into lair of a renowned war hero with political ambitions and a proverbial ossuary on a dedicated mainframe.