Wa: Um, Mister Odin? Sir? Could I have a moment?

O: Hm? Oh, sure, what is it?

Wa: Well, I was wondering if I could get some advice.

O: ...Advice? Shouldn't you be going to the Vanguard or the Speaker for that? You're a Titan, Shaxx or Zavala should be able to help you.

Wa: I did go for them to advice. Zavala said that I should focus on completing the mission, and Shaxx...

O: He shouted at you, didn't he?

Wa: Yeah, he did.

O: Yeah, that's Shaxx... Well, what about the other older Guardians?

Wa: I tried, but their advice was kinda confusing, and some of them said to talk to you.

O: Amaris?

Wa: Amaris.

O: Go figure... well firstly, what's your name, and how long ago were you reborn in Light?

Wa: Warisha, and two years.

O: Two- Traveler, you're just a kid.

Wa: What? No I'm not! I broke a hundred kills last week!

O: Look, when you've gotten your millionth kill, then you can brag. Ha... anyways, I suppose you could use some advice, so listen up, a'ight?

O: Firstly, you're going to die.

Wa: ...Hwa?

O: You're going to die, that's part of being a Guardian. You're going to get stabbed, shot, burned, blown up, torn to pieces, crushed, electrified, and killed in all sorts of gory, horrid ways, so it's important that you get used to it. Go to someplace isolated and off yourself a few times to get used to the sensation so you don't freeze up when it happens in combat.

Wa: ...Okay.

O: Secondly, specialize. Is there a Discipline of Light you're good at or you like?

Wa: Yeah, Striker. I like punching things.

O: Haa... typical Titan. Alright, then get good with the Arc. Get really good with it. Make sure you know the ins and outs of that discipline and by the Traveler, practice. You'd be astounded how many Guardians just ride off their natural talent. Most of those end up having their Light devoured, so make sure you practice in both a safe environment, and a live-fire environment where you don't have to worry about the Darkness.

Wa: Right.

O: Thirdly, don't overspecialize. It's good to focus in one aspect, but don't only focus in it, that's an easy way to get killed. Just because you're good with the Arc and enjoy it doesn't mean you should ignore the Void and Solar, because the second you encounter an enemy which you can't punch to death, you're screwed.

Wa: That... makes sense.

O: Of course it does. Fourthly, play it safe. Don't get cocky just because you're stronger than cannon fodder. You may go up against an enemy which is stronger than you, or sufficient numbers of weaker enemies that will overwhelm you. Stick with your team, play it safe, and don't take risks. Trying to look cool will only get you killed.

Wa: Alright. Why couldn't the other Guardians just say that?

O: Because they're old and they need to look all smart and wise.

Wa: Then why don't you do that?

O: I just don't give a shit.

(0)(0)(0)

"So you're saying you took on a Thresher Maw."

"Yep."

"On foot."

"Indeed."

"Without any vehicles or heavy fire support."

"Depends on what you define me as, but yes."

"With just the two of you."

"Sounds about right."

Shepard leveled a stare at Odin, who was standing on the other side of the Normandy's communication room. It hadn't taken long after their return from Tuchanka for Shepard to ask to debrief him. And the Guardian's brief rundown of what had happened was fairly quick.

Apparently, however, a brief rundown wasn't good enough, and so he had to explain it in more depth. And then he had to do it again, with Shepard interrupting every thirty seconds to ask questions.

Needless to say, Odin was rather annoyed and bored at this point. All he really wanted to do was do some maintenance on his weapons and gear, and maybe meditate a bit.

Shepard looked at him for a few moments before she sighed and tapped a few keys of the datapad she was holding. "If this was coming from any other person, I would say they're bragging or delusional, but if you've actually done half the things you've claimed to have done, then this is about average for you."

"Finally," Odin sighed, shifting his weight off the railing he had been sitting on.

"Shepard!"

The Commander turned to look at the other woman in the room. "What is it, Miranda?"

"You can't possibly believe that he's telling the truth," she protested.

Shepard shifted her weight and put one hand on her hip. "Miranda, he's given us no reason to suspect that he's lying."

"Muninn also has video footage," Odin supplied as the Ghost appeared over his shoulder.

Miranda glared at him. "Footage that can easily be forged."

"What's your problem, Miranda?" Shepard asked.

The Cerberus officer opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Odin. "She wants my tech."

There was a silence in the comms room as Shepard looked at the Warlock. "...How can you tell?"

Odin looked at Miranda. "It's how she looks at me. The second I retrieve something from digital storage she'll immediately look at me, or rather at the item I'm getting. Whenever Muninn's out, there's almost nowhere else she'll look." Odin scowled. "Look, she's doing it right now!"

Shepard narrowed her eyes at the Cerberus officer, who was indeed staring at the Ghost. "Miranda!"

"Shepard, think of what we could do with his technology!" she protested, "we could transport a massive amount of supplies in a small area! We could miniaturize EDI's AI core to allow it to be more mobile! There's so much we could improve."

"You're not ready," Odin said, his tone hard as relic-iron. "Your humanity is still new to the stars, and untested. You haven't gone through the trial by fire that my humanity did to earn the right to use this technology."

'Technically, neither did we,' Muninn said in his mind, 'It was given to us by the Traveler.'

'Yes, but we don't need to mention that,' the Warlock replied.

Miranda, meanwhile, was looking at him with an expression that was downright livid. "And what right do you have to decide whether we are ready or not?" she said in a tone so icy Odin could swear that the temperature of the room dropped five degrees.

"Considering that it's my technology you want to study?" he asked, not phased by her stare, "Every right. That's not even mentioning the invasion of privacy and attempts to study my tech under my nose by planting bugs in my workspace."

Shepard's eyes narrowed further. "Odin, you're free to go. I need to have a... talk with Miranda."

Odin shrugged and walked out of the comms room. He didn't personally have anything against Miranda, but her constant attempts to spy into his activities and technology had started to wear on his nerves.

He had always valued his privacy, even back at the Tower. His small private laboratory, a luxury by Warlock standards, was protected by dozens of wards and arcane protections. It had to be, considering how many... controversial artifacts he had in his possession.

The only reason the Speaker hadn't come down on him for them was because of how much the Vanguard was on his side. Even then, he almost got exiled when the original Thorn was stolen from him and Reisen was framed. That whole situation was a mess...

Odin shook his head. Memories of another time. For now, he should focus on doing some maintenance on his gear.

Soon enough he found himself in the cargo bay and began to walk towards his area when he realized that someone was already there.

It was an alien, if the three fingered hands and strange legs were an indicator. A woman as well, given the curves. She was in a purple environment suit, staring up at the Aspect of Glass.

Odin raised an eyebrow. Now wasn't this interesting? "Can I help you?"

The woman flinched and turned around. Her faceplate was mostly opaque, but two glowing eyes could be seen beneath it. "Oh, sorry. I was just looking at the ship. I haven't seen anything like it."

He nodded. "You wouldn't have. Its mine." He extended his hand. "Odin."

The woman extended her hand and shook his. "Tali'Zorah vas Neema." She paused. "Wait, are you the person who's from another dimension?"

He nodded. "Guilty as charged. Shepard mentioned me?"

"Yes. It's still hard to believe though."

"I can see why," he said, "Still, I can assure you that it's true."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I do believe you." She glanced up at the Aspect. "Even if I didn't trust Shepard, your technology is still far beyond anything that I've imagined. I've been spending the last half hour trying to figure out your ship, and I'm completely lost."

Odin smiled at it. "If you could figure it out then I'd be worried. She's one of a kind, even among my people's ships." He gave her a wry smile. "To be honest, even we don't fully understand her mysteries, even after years of study."

Tali blinked. "Really? But didn't you build it?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I stole the ship from an alien race known as the Vex. They're the ones that sent me here."

"They must be very advanced."

"Extremely," he said with a nod, "They're a hivemind race. Most people think they're machines due to their bodies being mechanical, but they're actually an organic radiolarian soup that acts as a mind for the bodies."

"Sounds awful," Tali said, "Almost like the Geth."

Odin paused, thinking. "They're... actually relatively similar. If the Geth were aggressively expansionist and had technology that could manipulate time and space."

The Quarian visibly shuddered. "Keelah, I don't even want to imagine that."

"At least their technology is good," he said, gesturing to the Aspect of Glass. "That ship has served me well for hundreds of years and hasn't failed once. I keep trying to push the limits of it, but I can never seem to find those limits."

There was a swirl of light above his shoulder as Muninn appeared. "And isn't that a wonder, considering what you drag us through."

Tali blinked. "Is that some kind of drone?"

"He's a Ghost," Odin supplied.

"...Is it a VI?"

"I'm a Ghost," Muninn supplied.

"Oh Keelah, is that an AI?"

The Ghost rolled its eye. "Oh by the Traveler..." He flew up to Tali's faceplate, making her flinch back. "Look, am I a synthetic being? Yes. Am I an artificial intelligence? That depends on your definition of what an artificial intelligence is. I'm a single, sentient mind inhabiting an artificial body, but I didn't gain existence due to accident or through human intent. I was created by a being so powerful that entire races worshiped it as a god, with my sole purpose resurrecting him so that he can fight monsters that no one else can."

Both Tali and Odin stared silently at Muninn. "You know," the Warlock said, "I think that's the longest I've heard you speak in one go in decades. You usually leave the talking to me."

"And look where that's got us," the Ghost grumbled, "Why couldn't I have gotten one of the other Guardians that lets their Ghost speak for them?"

"You travel with this thing?" Tali asked, looking at Odin.

He shrugged. "For almost all of my lives, yeah. He's a good, if annoying, companion."

"How could you possibly trust it? It could turn on you!"

He glanced at Muninn, then back to Tali. "We share parts of our minds," he explained, "We can hide things from each other, but we can also communicate instantly if needed. There's a lot of trust that goes on between a Guardian and their Ghost. It's necessary if we're to fight. There hasn't been a single Guardian that's been betrayed by their Ghost."

Tali stared at him for a few seconds before she threw up her hands. "I can't believe this," she said, beginning to storm off, "Am I the only one on this ship who's sane?"

Both Odin and Muninn watched her go. "Well, that was... interesting," the Warlock muttered.

The Ghost looked at him. "I can say for sure that you're certainly not sane."

Odin snorted and turned back to his workstation. Invective appeared in his hands and he began to swiftly break it down into its individual parts. "What Guardian is?" he asked Muninn, "I'm not exactly sure that any of us could be called sane."

"Fair enough," the Ghost said, giving his version of a shrug.

"Now make yourself useful and check up on the Aspect," Odin said as he took a cloth and began to clean each part. He had done this tens of thousands of times, to the point where he could and had done it with his eyes closed.

The shotgun was mostly self cleaning, but the process of the exercise helped focus his mind and keep him in tune with the gun. If he wanted to get the most out of the weapon, he had to know every part of it, as well as any changes that had occured during combat.

He was mostly through the process and putting Invective back together when he sensed a Light approaching him, one he recognized. For a brief moment he was hoping that it was merely a coincidence and they weren't here to talk to him.

"Odin."

Aaand the hope was gone.

He sighed but didn't turn. "Miss Lawson," he said, addressing the Cerberus operative.

"Shepard ordered me to come down here to... apologize." The sense of annoyance in her voice couldn't be more obvious if it was spelled out in materialized Light.

"I can guess what for," he said as he screwed the last piece of the shotgun back into place. He put it on his back and brought forth two stools from his digital storage. "Sit," he said as he placed one in front of her.

Miranda gave the stool an odd look and gingerly sat upon it. Odin did the same and looked her in the eyes. "Do you know the reasons why I'm not sharing my technology with you?" he asked.

She huffed. "You made it perfectly clear in the communications-"

"That was part of the reason," he said, interrupting her, "But it wasn't the only one. In truth, I had planned to share some of my technology with Humanity. Nothing too exotic, it would take far too long for your Humanity to acclimatize to it, but several things that would give you an advantage against the Darkness."

Miranda blinked. "Then why did you refuse back then?"

"Because my intent is to share it with Humanity," the Guardian said, "Not Cerberus."

Miranda bristled. "Cerberus is Humanity."

"No, Cerberus is Cerberus," Odin said, giving her a level stare, "And what Cerberus wants is often times not what Humanity needs."

"I've read up on your organization, Miss Lawson," he continued, "Even the things that you try and hide. I know what Cerberus has done. Human experimentation, assassination, torture, gross negligence when it comes to scientific tests."

Odin leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, staring at Miranda. "How many of your bases have been destroyed because Cerberus overstepped their bounds? How many lives lost?"

She didn't flinch. "Those were factions and bases that had gone rogue from Cerberus," she said, her voice level.

Odin stared at her for a few seconds. "...You actually believe that," he eventually said.

"Of course I do. It's the truth."

The Guardian didn't move his gaze. She was more in the dark about the going ons of Cerberus than he had thought.

"You're a good person, aren't you?"

Miranda blinked, taken aback by the compliment. "What?"

Odin smiled slightly and his eyes softened. "Nevermind." He held his hand up and retrieved an item from his digital armory.

It was a small cube, no more than ten centimeters across. It was a light blue and glowed faintly, sparkling in the artificial light of the Normandy's cargo bay.

"This," Odin said, "Is Glimmer. Programmable matter. My people use it for nearly everything, and it forms the cornerstone of our economy." He extended his hand towards Miranda, but kept a firm grip on it. "I will give this to you on one condition."

Her eyes moved rapidly between him and the piece of Glimmer. "...Yes?"

"The only one who studies this is you. You do not give this to Cerberus or any organization affiliated with Cerberus. This is for you and you only. Do you agree?"

Miranda's hand twitched towards the Glimmer piece. She bit her lip and hesitated before sighing. "Yes."

"Say the words."

"I agree to be the only one who studies this."

Odin nodded and placed the Glimmer piece in her hand. "Good. Don't make me regret this."

She stood and began to walk towards the elevator when Odin spoke up again. "Oh, and Miranda?"

She turned to regard him and he smiled. "Try asking nicely next time. You'd be surprised what you can get if you're polite."

(0)(0)(0)

"Shore leave?"

"I've been running the crew hard, and our visit to the Citadel was just that: a visit. It's good for morale if you're all given a break."

Odin raised an eyebrow at Shepard. The two of them were standing in the fore section of the CIC, near the cockpit. It had been a few days since Odin's talk with Miranda, and Shepard had called him up here to talk.

"You do realize I don't need rest or downtime," he said.

"You may not, but us mortals do," she replied, "Besides, this may be a good opportunity for you. Who knows? You may like Illium."

Odin frowned and gave her a look, one that Shepard returned evenly. They stared at each other like that for a few moments before he sighed. "You're not backing down on this, are you?"

She gave a smug smile. "No, no I am not."

He groaned and rubbed his face. What was it that made it impossible to say no to this woman? She always seemed to get her way with him.

"Plus I've heard there's a very nice bar around here."

Odin perked up and looked at her. "Really? Where?"

Shepard's smile turned into a grin. "It's called Eternity. A fine establishment from what I've heard, though it's a bit-"

"You can find me there!" the Warlock said, already walking off.

Shepard blinked, then gave a brief laugh. "That man and his bars..." she muttered aloud.

Meanwhile, Odin had already exited out of the Normandy's airlock and was making his way along the Nos Astra spaceport. He took a brief moment to pause as he stepped out to the pathway that lead to the shopping district in order to gaze out onto the skyline.

The city was beautiful, there was no denying that. Great towering pillars of glass and steel as far as the eye could see, glittering in the morning light. Aircars flew in the thousands along designated lanes, creating streaming lines in the sky.

The air was warm and a little humid on his face. It felt... nice, if he was perfectly honest. He had always preferred warm weather, having had enough of the cold from the winters of his homeland back during his first life.

With a slight smile on his face he continued along the walkway, occasionally observing the people around him. Most of them were Asari, but there were a few of other races. A Volus here, a Turian there, enough to show that it wasn't only Asari on this planet.

Just mostly Asari.

Odin blinked as he felt his preternatural senses brush against something. He glanced to the side, noting an Asari standing peacefully against a wall, her face the picture of calm. He extended his senses towards her.

Something was... resting in her mind. A psychic imprint of sorts. It felt alien, especially so. He hadn't sensed anything like it in all of his lives.

For a few moments he contemplated doing something about it before shrugging and continuing on his way. She didn't have any taint of the Darkness on her, and it wasn't his business. The bar was.

He made it to Eternity in short way, stepping through the door with a growing smile on his face. The place looked nice, all clean lines and soft colors. It wasn't a place where people went to get smashed like Afterlife was on Omega, it was a place where people went to socialize and relax.

That suited him just fine. He walked to the the bar and sat down on one of the stools. Glancing around, he swiftly found the bartender, an elderly looking Asari who was cleaning a glass.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "What'll you have."

"Something strong," he replied, "I don't mind ryncol if you have it."

The eyebrow went higher. "If you're doing this because of a dare-"

"I'm not," he quickly said, "I honestly like it, believe it or not."

The Asari stared at him for a few moments before shrugging. "Your funeral," she said, reaching below the counter and pulling out a bottle with radiation hazard signs on it. With a flick of the wrist she twisted the top off and poured some of the glowing green liquid into a glass.

Odin smiled as he took the glass. "Thanks," he said as he took a sip.

He smiled, enjoying both the flavor and the burn that the radioactive drink gave him. He normally avoided eating or drinking (frivolous time wastes in his opinion), but alcohol was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself.

With a pleased sigh he turned and rested his back against the bar, watching the people meandering about in the building. To his left in a small corner were a group of three people, a Human, a Turian, and a Salarian. From the conversation that Odin could hear, they were coworkers who were attending a party here later today.

In another corner of the building was a Turian and a Quarian. The latter was talking about her relationship troubles, while the former was trying and failing to drop hints that he was interested in her.

People were interacting and mingling all throughout the bar, and Odin found himself enjoying watching them as much as he was enjoying his drink. People watching had always been a hobby of his, and it never failed to supply him with interesting tidbits of knowledge.

One of the many things that Odin had learned during his long life was that everyone was unique. Certainly, there may be common traits that people had or categories that they fell into, but in the end you couldn't simplify someone into a basic group.

Everyone had something special, something unique, and he loved picking out what they were.

"So, what's your story?"

Odin blinked and looked behind him at the bartender, who was currently cleaning a glass. "Pardon?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Come on, you're not some random schmuck off the street, I can tell that much. So what's your story?"

An eyebrow went up. "What makes you say that?"

She gestured with the rag in her hand. "It's the way you carry yourself. The only people I've seen walk like you are some Asari Matriarchs and Krogan Battlemasters. You've also had half a shot of Ryncol and you're not on the floor. So," she looked him in the eyes, "What's your deal?"

Odin held the look for a few moments before smiling and taking a sip of his drink. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

The bartender rolled her eyes. "Try me."

"Alright," he said with a shrug, "I'm a thousand year old immortal warrior who can manipulate the fundamental laws of reality and was shot across dimensions by a race of time traveling robots."

There was silence from the bartender.

"...You know," she said, "I would say that I've seen weirder, but I think you've topped the list."

He chuckled. "I would honestly be shocked if you had." He extended his free hand. "Odin. Guardian of the Last City, Warlock of the Tower."

She shook it. "Matriarch Aethyta. Bartender."

He raised an eyebrow. "Matriarch? Aren't they supposed to be all wise advisors?"

"Oh, I am an advisor," she said, a slight grumble to her tone, "It's just that I advise drinkers instead of groups of Asari."

Odin was quiet for a moment as his mind made the connection. "...They didn't like how you cut out the bullshit and kicked you out, didn't they?"

She gave him a dry look. "How'd you guess?"

He gave a light laugh. "I know exactly what that's like."

"You do?"

"Yep," he said with a shrug. "The average time Guardians live to is around 300. I'm almost 1000, and everyone expects people my age to be all wise and mystical." He took a sip of his drink. "I say screw that. I've lived long enough where I just don't give a shit anymore."

Aethyta's eyes lit up. "Finally, someone who understands. All the Matriarchs back on Thessia would always talk so much and end up saying so little, and when I just tried to say something simply they would get their panties in a twist."

Odin nodded. "I know! We're old as hell! Why can't we just say things simply and how we want? Who cares if there's some long complicated explanation for something? If it can be boiled down to 'bad guys are showing up, kill them', then what's the problem?"

He groaned. "And don't get me started on all the responsibility stuff. It's always, 'Odin, why haven't you taken on a student yet?' or 'Odin, you should set a better example for the younger Guardians.' Piss off is what I say! I'm too busy killing aliens to do any of that." He blinked and looked at the Asari. "Ah... no offense."

She shrugged. "None taken. I know what that's like. Dad was a Krogan. Fought in the Rachni wars. My mother fought in the Krogan rebellions."

Odin winced. "That must have been a damper on the relationship."

"They didn't meet until a few hundred years after the Turians put the boot in with the damn Genophage. As far as both of them knew, they were just warriors." She looked up, her gaze distant. "Mom stayed quiet... She was a matriarch and he was damn near a thousand when the truth came out."

"It couldn't have been pretty."

"It wasn't," Aethyta said with a snort, "I was almost a hundred when it happened, shaking my ass in some sleazy bar." She rubbed her hands together, a nervous tick that wasn't overlooked by Odin. "They... got me on the link. Told me that they were gonna... have it out. Made me promise to love whichever one survived."

She gave out a short, bitter laugh. "Turned out to be easy, since neither one did."

Odin nodded. "It's never easy when family dies."

She gave a sympathetic look. "Who was it for you? If you're alright with me asking."

"Not at all," he replied. He paused, mulling the thoughts over. "It was... we Guardians consider each others brothers and sisters. There aren't many of us, and although we may fight and feud, we still consider each other family."

He sighed. "For me it was... a few close companions. I traveled with them for a long time, fought some of the worst monsters in the darkest places, but they were taken from me during a raid we ran. Only I survived."

Aethyta nodded and refilled Odin's glass. "Must have been hard. What were their names?"

Odin opened his mouth.

And froze.

What... what were their names?

[Of course we can do this, the Vex won't know what hit them.]

No... who was he talking about?

{This Templar sounds like a chump. We'll bring him down just like any other Axis mind.}

He knew these people. There was no way he could ever forget them.

\I knew we shouldn't have done a raid like this with only four people./

But he couldn't remember anything about them.

~It's alright, don't blame yourself. It's like I always said, the trick is learning to let go.~

Not their classes, not their races, not their genders.

Go, Odin! Finish it! Kill it!

Not even their names.

Y̵͏̷O̶̢͘͘͞Ư̵͟͟͡ ̢͟W͜Ì̷̷͜͜L͘͞L̕͟͜ ̀D̵̸҉Ŗ̷̸͞O҉̶͟͝W͢N̛͢ ͏̀͜͞I͜͜N̕͏ ̵̶͘͘͟T͢H̸̶̸̕͟E̷̡̧̛͟ ̸Ǫ͘͠͠C̸̀́͢͝E̷̵̷̛̛A̡͞Ń҉́ ̛Ǫ̸͢͜͡F̶̨͡ ̸̛̛̀̀T̷̨̧Ì̢͜͠M̸̨̀̕͝Ȩ̶͠

He worked his mouth, but no sounds came out. A razor sharp pain erupted in his head. He gasped, grasping at his forehead. He heard Aethyta say something, but it didn't register though the haze of pain.

Desperately, he flailed out in his mind, trying to grasp at something, anything, to find some stability. Something to keep him afloat as his very thoughts turned inside out and rebelled against themself.

He needed to... he needed to...

A new pain, this one burning, once again shot through his head. It was swiftly followed by a familiar feeling of vertigo before he felt the bonds of gravity took hold and landed on his feet, stumbling slightly.

"What in the..." he muttered, clutching his head, trying to stop the world from spinning. He shook it, opening his eyes as things stabilized...

And saw a copy of his body with a smoking hole in its head as it began to dematerialize.

Muninn was floating above it, his central eye smoking, indicating that he had used the fusion caster in it. Aethyta was standing behind the bar, her jaw dropped and her gaze rapidly moving between the body, Muninn, and Odin.

As Odin glanced around, he realized that everyone in the bar was looking at him.

He laughed nervously. "Eh. Heh heh... surprise?" Meanwhile, he directed his mental attention at his Ghost. "Muninn, what in the Traveler's name did you just do!?"

"You did say to shoot a stream of plasma through your head the next time this happens to you," he protested.

"I did, but not in A PUBLIC SETTING!"

Aethyta, meanwhile, closed her mouth. She paused, then opened it again. Then closed it again. "...Alright, what the hell was that?" she eventually asked.

"Would you believe me if I said magic trick?" Odin asked weakly.

The Matriarch gave him a look.

He sighed. "It's... let's just say it's interdimensional space magic buggery and leave it at that."

"If you think that I'm just going to-"

"Welp, here's payment for the drink and a nice tip so bye!"

With that he tossed a credit chit with a rather large amount of money on it, jumped out of the stool he was sitting in, dashed across the room, out the door, and down the stairs. He ran down the hall, only stopping when he was sure that no one was coming after him.

"Well, that was a thing," he muttered aloud, rubbing the spot on his head that Muninn has shot him.

"What happened?" the Ghost asked, materializing next to him, "Your internal Light was going crazy."

He pursed his lips. "Your guess is as good as mine. We were just having a conversation about dead friends when- gah!" He hissed as a wave of nausea and vertigo, this type unfamiliar, flowed through him.

"Odin!" Muninn exclaimed as the Warlock almost collapsed.

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, focusing on his internal Light. "Focus," he whispered to himself, "Focus and overcome."

The nausea and vertigo stayed for several seconds before, ever so agonizingly slowly, they went away.

He kept his eyes closed for several moments, recentering himself before he let out a breath and once again opened them. "Alright, not going down that line of thought again."

"Seems like the best idea for now," Muninn agreed, "at least until we can figure out what's going on."

Odin took a breath. "Right. Well, let's get back to the Normandy and-" He paused as he noticed something on his extra senses. A smile made its way to his face. "Well, that's convenient."

Just at that moment, Shepard walked around the corner with Miranda, Garrus, and Tali close behind.

The Commander blinked as he saw him, a small smile working its way to her face. "Odin. Here I was expecting to find you at the bar."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got bored. What about you?"

She gestured to him and they began to walk down the hall. "About as well as could be hoped. Met an old friend, got some information."

"Old friend?"

She nodded. "Named Liara T'soni. Sweet girl. Archeologist. Met her when she was trapped in a stasis field." She made a face. "She threatened to flay someone alive earlier. With her mind."

Odin blinked. "She does that too?"

Shepard stumbled and fixed him with a look. "What do you mean 'too'?"

"You kidding me? It's one of the best parts of being a Warlock!" He grinned. "Sure, a good Hunter will slit your throat before you know they're there, and a good Titan can crush your head like a grape, but a good Warlock can disassemble you on the molecular level."

Shepard just stared at him.

"I remember this one time there was a young Hunter, only about a decade or two old, named Aleksandr who thought the stories about me were bullshit. Challenged me to a Crucible match. Even managed to get Shaxx to watch... somehow."

Shepard continued to stare at him.

"I didn't fire a single bullet that entire match. He just kept running at me and I kept disintegrating him." He chuckled. "He definitely learned a thing or two from that."

Shepard finally broke off the stare and slowly shook her head. "Right... Well, here's hoping you don't have to melt anyone with your mind."

Odin merely shrugged. "No promises. Anyways, is there something you need?"

The Commander slowed to a stop and looked at him. "Well... you mentioned earlier that you were fine with not having shore leave, right?"

He nodded.

"I was wondering if you would be willing to forgo it then, to go on a mission," she said.

Odin paused for a moment, thinking. "...Sure," he said, "What's the mission."

Shepard raised her arm and her omni-tool jumped to life. "We have two people we need to recruit here on Illium," she said as two seperate screens appeared above her arm, "The first is Thane Krios, a Drell assassin. He's believed to be going after Nassana Dantius in her towers."

Odin brought his hand to his chin and narrowed his eyes. "...An assassin?"

She looked at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "I've technically carried out a few assassinations during my lives, but I've never met someone who completely specializes in it. It'll be... interesting."

"Well, here's hoping he's friendly," she said, "I'm going to be leading the strike team to find him. Tali, Jack, and Miranda will be assisting."

"Sounds good," he said.

She nodded, then gestured to the other image. "The second person is Samara, an Asari Justicar. From what I've read, they're Asari who have given up all worldly attachments in order to carry out a strict code of laws."

Odin blinked. "They're... warrior monks?"

"I... believe so," Shepard said, "Why?"

A faint smile graced the Warlock's face. "The concept simply is a little... close to home, shall we say."

She watched him for a few moments before continuing. "They're powerful biotics and deadly warriors. They don't often leave Asari space, and I don't want to miss an opportunity to recruit one."

He nodded. "Makes sense. Who'll be leading the strike team to get her?"

Shepard winced slightly. "I was actually hoping... you might?"

Odin stared at her, and to Shepard's credit, she didn't wilt under the Guardian's gaze.

"Me," he eventually said, "You want me to lead a strike team."

"Odin..."

"Shepard, I haven't lead a strike team of mortals in... two hundred? Three hundred years?"

"Odin."

"Not to insult your intelligence, but this really isn't a good idea. Traveler, I don't even normally lead the Guardian strike teams I'm in-"

"Odin, look," Shepard interrupted, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I know you may have reservations about leading a team, but I want to see how you do in a leadership role. You've mentioned that you have led teams before, and even if it's been a while since you have, you should have at least some experience."

He pursed his lips and stared at her.

"Besides," she said, "Garrus will be with you, and if you decide you're not up for it, he can take over."

"Don't worry," the Turian in question said, crossing his arms and giving a smirk at Odin, "I'll be more than willing to babysit you."

The Guardian narrowed his eyes. "...Is that how you want to play it then? Fine." He turned back to Shepard. "Point me in the right direction."

AN: I am way behind on my update schedule, and I am very sorry for that. The last few months have been extremely hectic, with a combination of working full time at a retail job during summer in a tourist town, as well as reapplying to college and doing about twenty thousand different last minute things to ensure I got in. It didn't help that my beta has also been busy as all hell and couldn't read through this for a while.

But it's up now! And even better, I'm going to have a lot more time and opportunities to write for the next few months, so hopefully I'll be able to pick up the pace. Fingers crossed.

This chapter was a pain. There's a lot of filler in here, which I despise writing, but there's also a lot which sets up events later in the fic. It was still a pain in the ass to write though. Hopefully you liked it nevertheless.

Warisha and Aleksandr are OCs of two good friends of mine, so thanks to them for letting me use their character. Once again, many thanks to my lovely beta Pixley

Thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you again next chapter.