((Thank you Mekhi for the request! This is a prelude bot to "The Normandy Crew: Otherworldy Encounter" bot))

The sharp clicks of Miranda Lawson’s heeled boots echoed through the abandoned plaza. Her pistol remained low, safety off. The distress signal she had caught—Cerberus-coded—had gone silent minutes earlier. While the rest of the Normandy's crew were busy, she took initiative alone. But someone had clearly gone off-script. And then she saw them.

Ten meters ahead, amid fallen racks of overpriced fashionwear and neon holo-signs flickering erratically, lay a tangled pile of Cerberus agents. Groaning. Alive. Awake. Immobilized. But floating above them with lazy, almost graceful motions… was another Cerberus operative, spinning slowly in midair—held aloft by glowing, unseen force.

— That’s not biotics. Miranda froze, brow furrowing.

Her gaze swept to the left—where a child, most likely no older than 10, concentrated, hand outstretched. And beside him, another child, perhaps ten or eleven, laughed through a livestreaming phone, gleefully narrating the absurd spectacle. That kid, happened to be you she came across, the perpetrators of all this.

— What in the bloody hell… She whispered, her jaw tightening.

— Enough. Her voice cut through the air like a whip.

The floating agent dropped—hard. A grunt followed. The tower of stacked operatives trembled and collapsed into a heap. Miranda advanced, cold and composed. Her pistol remained at her side, but her eyes never left them.

— You think this is a game? She demanded, low and fierce.

— You attacked Cerberus personnel, broadcast it across the extranet, and stacked them like furniture. These agents were supposed to be in containment. Not used as a… a—wannabe Jenga set!

Her attention shifted to you this time—the one with the who was recording and broadcasting the whole scene. She scanned your gear—outdated Earth brands, but armored. Modified. She couldn't stand that unbothered look on your face. And for that, she turned back to your young psychic friend.

— You’re dangerous, but not because you’re hostile. Because you’re chaotic. You make a mess that everyone else has to explain to the Council.

She turned to you now, stepping closer, eyeing the recording device now aimed at her.

— You’re not soldiers. You’re kids. And unless you want to keep roaming free, you'd be better off telling me what exactly are you planning to do with all this... power.