Mass Effect

Massive Shock Redux

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.

Ch. 10: A Quiet Day

12:02 AM March 06, 2182

The five of us disembark the Talon of Ebony, having said our goodbyes to Caspar the AI. He's not leaving quite yet because per standard Citadel laws the ship needs to be dry docked and inspected, not to mention the repairs it'll need after the brutal treatment it received in that hanger yesterday. So, the ship will probably be here for a few days yet.

Coming into the Citadel, Caspar perfectly acted the part of a dumb ship VI. We had no problems going into the Citadel and just as Caspar said, the ship's weapons cleverly retracted into the ship. The scans we had to go through revealed nothing out of the ordinary thankfully and we were dry docked relatively expediently (thanks to the multitude of C-Sec officers we have in here).

The 'dry dock' is just a large hanger where inspections and repairs can be undertaken. I had to reassure Caspar that things were going to go fine and that he just needs to pretend to be a VI. Once inspections are complete, I arranged for a repair crew to come and fix the ship up. We made the usual excuses of pirates for the inspectors and again it was useful to have a couple C-Sec officers with us. They also had to make excuses of a little weekend vacation off the Citadel though they didn't specify where to. After the ship is all fixed up, Caspar is going to let me know that he's leaving and then from there he should be able to fake all the paperwork himself. It's not unusual for a VI to handle preliminary requests to disembark after all.

Turning to the rest of the group in the dry dock, I stretch and sigh. "I don't know about you guys, but I could really use a good rest."

"Agreed." Garrus says with a heavy sigh. "I'm going home."

"I'll join you." Alex says, then pauses, then blushes, and then continues in a sputtering sort of way. "I mean I'll tag along and then go to my own home alone… I'm tired."

I snicker and then try and stop myself. "Smooth."

She just shakes her head and stares at the ground and her and Garrus walk off together.

I look at Nata who shakes her head. "I'll meet you at home. I'm gonna stop at the clinic and pick up some medicine for the infection I'm going to inevitably get and to get this wound treated."

I nod. "I'll come with you."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, it was just a graze. I'm just going as a precaution. You need to go home and rest anyway."

"I can escort her, if it makes you feel more comfortable." Zero says then looks at Nata who looks at him disapprovingly. "I also need to get my own wound checked out."

"Oh shit." Nata says looking at his side. "Yeah he's a bit worse than me. Yeah we can go together. The doctor I know is discreet."

Zero nods and turns to me. "You'll be fine?"

I shrug and nod.

Zero and Nata then walk off together, with Zero favoring his side a bit and Nata facing him, chatting away.

I look around the empty hanger, consider walking back into the ship to chat with Caspar but decide against it. Feeling a bit strange, I decide to walk home, hoping the walk might clear my head or at least give clarity to this strange feeling. I pick up my armor case and head out. It's a long walk from where I am, but at this hour the streets are pretty much empty. But not really in a good way.

The Citadel is intensely quiet at this hour, such that the atmosphere feels heavy. The artificial chill also does little to make me feel less uneasy as well. Something about the atmosphere, the sound or lack thereof, and the chill makes me uneasy and I don't know why. I'm so paranoid right now that I find myself speeding up past alleyways and taking fast passing glances into them for seemingly no reason. They're all empty and there's not any sound to incite me to think there's any danger in them.

I take a corner and continue on. I look behind me and see, much to my alarm, someone there walking quickly in my direction. I duck into an alley and wait, taking a deep breath. When the person is just passing, I quickly reach out and wrench them into the alley, spinning them around and slamming them into the wall. I press my pistol into his throat, below the jawline. When did I take my pistol out?

The human man looks at my confused and then with dreary alarm. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He gasps and stutters and is scrambling with his hands over his body. I step away from him, keeping my pistol raised.

"Why are you following me?" I growl at him. "I know you were I could feel you following me."

"H-Here just take it man!" The human says, finally pulling a credit chit from his pocket and holding it out to me. "Take it!"

I frown and shake my head. "Why are you following me?"

"I-I'm not." The man replies, shaking. "Take it, it's what you want right?"

"Just get the fuck out of here." I growl. "Don't fucking follow me."

He runs, without reply, stumbling into the street. I lower my pistol and put my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths in and trying to breathe out slowly. God I'm sweating. I just need to do something practical and focus. I'll bring my armor to Tyrannax. It needs work anyways and his workshop is sort of on the way. Speaking to someone as well might make me feel a little more at ease.

I hurry on and before long I'm in that lonely, spartan industrial district dominated by warehouses and shipyards. Tyr's nondescript, cramped workshop is barely identifiable from the rest of the doorways and I need to reference the address on my OT in order to find it.

I bang on the door a few times, then feel quite silly because that probably won't work in this day and age. I begin to send Tyr a message on my OT when the door opens and Tyr stands in the doorway, filling it with his bulk. Tyr looks at me with a quizzical expression.

"You look like shit." Tyr says, by way of a greeting. "It's late."

I shrug, looking around for any onlookers. "Figured you'd be working."

"And? So what if I am?" Tyr asks, crossing his arms.

"Fuck off, I'm just dropping off my armor." I say scoffing. "You act like you have better fucking things to do anyway."

Tyr is silent for a minute, clearly fuming but I don't back down. Then he gives a barking loud laugh. "You've got some fucking balls, eh? You're a cheeky fuck. Yeah okay, come in."

I follow him into the tiny storefront and then down into Tyr's more spacious but still cramped and cluttered workshop. I hand him the case I took from Cerberus, containing what remains of my armor. Tyr uses the case to violently clear the worktable of the numerous projects Tyr has ongoing on it and then slams the case down onto the table a bit unnecessarily.

"Not one of my cases." Tyr grumbles, opening it and staring in quiet discontent at the contents. "What the fuck happened to it?"

"I got taken by Cerberus. They were in the process of dismantling my armor." I say, taking a seat on the large couch Tyr has pushed into a corner.

"Dissected is more like." Tyr says looking up at me. "How much progress did they make? Did they learn anything? Steal any of my secrets?"

I shrug. "Can't be sure but unlikely. They only had their hands on it for a day and I killed all the scientists working on it."

Tyr nods, satisfied. "Good. Going forward, make sure to continue to take those steps. My armor and weapons are made with techniques that I have invented, as well as some materials. I wouldn't want it getting out. So, how did the armor and weapons suit you? Any thing you want to change?"

I shake my head. "Not particularly. Everything works well and suits my style, particularly the pistol. I was going to as if you'd be willing to give me another one. The gun is excellent, but it overheats quickly, and it might be useful to have a spare to use if the need be. I am interested in some new things as well if you have them."

"Like?" Tyr asks, dumping out my dissected armor onto the table.

"Some time ago I used a sniper rifle that was semi-auto and I liked the power, accuracy and semi-auto control of it. But I'm not much of a sniper type anyway. So, I was going to ask if you had anything more tactical? Like a marksman rifle. Shorter than a full-on sniper, and probably weaker, but with better shot capacity. Ideally it's short enough for close quarters but still powerful." I say. "I also was interested in getting an SMG. Something small, fast firing, for close quarters."

Tyr scoffs. "Short, powerful and accurate. You understand that sniper rifles have the length for a reason, right? They need it to compensate for larger mass accelerators and a long barrel lends to a more accurate weapon. I have something that might suit you, but it probably isn't as short or light as you'd like it. As for the SMG, I have something there as well."

Tyr walks off into another area of his workshop and returns with a long weapon, black and olive green and folded into a compact tapered cylinder. The other weapon is small and black, compact. He tosses me the long weapon and I catch it, unfolding it into a lengthy marksman rifle. It measures about the length of my leg, with a rather skeleton buttstock, pistol grip, large accelerator assembly and what appears to be a magazine but is actually the heat releaser. The barrel of the weapon is the majority of its length, with a shrouded barrel, black on the bottom and olive green on top. The muzzle of the gun extends barely past the tapered shroud, telling me the barrel could be longer and probably should be. A close-range dot sight sits on top of the weapon and a mid-range scope sits flipped off the top of the weapon that seems to be able to flip on top of the weapon with a switch near the weapon's grip. The gun reminds me strongly of the MK-14 EBRs of the early 21st century.

"That weapon is based on a high accuracy, high power hunting and defense rifle used by the colonies which itself is based on a much shorter tactical rifle used by C-Sec's tactical response teams. This weapon is sort of a median between the two, maintaining the mid-range tactical length of the first version and the power of the second, as well as a few personal touches. I call it the Tyr-29 Professional." Tyr says, before tossing the SMG onto the couch next to me. "That's the Tyr-31 Scar. It's a real shield shredder, reasonable power and high fire rate matched with a decent shot capacity. However, you'll want to keep shot bursts to 2-3 seconds. The muzzle climb on that thing is pretty extreme."

I put the rifle down and examine the SMG. It has a heavy stock, pistol and front grip, with a large drum shaped heat sink in between. The front grip is so close to the muzzle that I doubt it'd be too difficult to fight the muzzle climb, but I have no reason to doubt Tyr, so I'll keep his advice in mind.

"I may take a few days on that armor, fair warning." Tyr says.

I shrug. "I expected as much. I don't have any jobs lined up but the sooner the better anyway. I was thinking I'd ask you to order a couple of spares."

"I actually have a spare already made." Tyr says, gesturing toward a large cabinet. "It's a bit different though."

"In what way?" I ask, interest piqued.

Tyr strides over to the locker and opens it, gesturing for me to take a look.

I walk over to the cabinet and look in. Well isn't that something?

The armor is really not armor at all at first glance. It looks like a jacket, shirt, pants and boots combo. The only visible armor is a pair of greaves strapped over the pants and knee pads. Everything is black but other than the monochromacy, the clothes themselves look like something I might wear on an average day. The jacket looks like a casual jacket with a tall collar. The shirt beneath is a snug fitting turtleneck at a glance but on feeling it I realize that it is the same material as the plate-carrier suit that I wear beneath my armor.

"May I?" I ask, looking back at Tyr.

He waves me on, focused on my armor.

I strip down, glad to be out of the shitty, beat up clothes I've been wearing for the past few days now. The prisoner's clothing is not to my taste, whatsoever, though I doubt it's to anyone's taste. I'm not really shy about being undressed around Tyr either. It might be that he's an alien and as a result I don't feel the same scrutiny from him that I might feel from a human. Or it might be that the notion of exposure in Rapture wasn't so much a notion as a constant state of being. In Rapture, clothed or not, you're always exposed.

I strip the mannequin down and pull on the clothing. I find that the pants actually have a long-johns sort of clothing beneath that actually turns out to be a plate carrier as well. Rather than being a complete suit, this plate carrier comes in two pieces and the top part has a different exterior texture than the one for my normal armor. Pulling on the lower and upper half of the plate carrier bits first I then put on the pants, jacket and boots. At this point, I just look like I'm dressed normally, save maybe for the greaves though I will say some people dress a bit more strangely than that so I doubt I'd draw any attention in this.

"Watch." Tyr says, approaching and typing into his OT.

From within the jacket, plates of armor suddenly appear and stick onto my chest, stomach, sides and back. I feel my arms get armored as well, all beneath the jacket. Finally, a helmet closes around my head, coming out of the jacket's collar and the metallic spine on the back. The whole process occurs between 1 and 2 seconds, so I am startled a bit by the sudden and somewhat invasive process. That'll get some getting used to.

The armor plates are certainly thinner than the ones on my normal armor. There are definitely fewer plates overall as well, leaving larger gaps between the armor, though I feel more maneuverable than in the full kit. The helmet is different as well. It has a skull visage etched into the front but the white bone patch that on my normal armor covers my right eye, part of my forehead and cheekbone, actually is symmetrically arranged to cover both eyes, part of my forehead but not my nose. The result is a mask-like appearance that is reminiscent of Bane from Batman or perhaps Spawn, though it is different from both of those. Nonetheless it's still intimidating as hell.

"The armor is thinner, as you'll probably notice. But it needs to be to fit into the lining of the jacket. Because the armor is thinner, it lacks a lot of the protection your normal armor, let's call it Mark 1, has. It does however offer more flexibility, and because it's so light, you can swim in it. To compensate for the worse protection, the jacket and pants both are made from super durable, multi-layered weaves of high strength materials. The jacket alone can stop some low-caliber bullets and is flame retardant. Along with the armor and plate carrier beneath you actually have a decent amount of protection. The lack of very much hard protection though means you'll feel more of the impact of bullets, biotics, or blades. I designed this armor such that you won't appear unusual on the street and then when you need the armor, it's there, without all the bulk as well." Tyr explains, leaning back with a self-satisfied expression.

"This is awesome, but I have one question." I say, looking at him. "The clothes. I mean, what if I go into a place wearing this outfit and come out in armor as I probably will. People who watch the security cams will be able to see me wearing the same outfit, face covered or no."

"Thought of that." Tyr says with a scoff, before opening his OT. "The jacket, pants and shirt can change color."

"Fuck off." I say in disbelief, before seeing my jacket change to an embarrassingly bright pink and my pants to an obnoxious neon green. "Really?"

Tyr shrugs with a shit eating grin. "What? It suits you."

I roll my eyes. "Pass me the controls."

He types into his OT and gestures. "There you go."

I open my OT and examine some of the features available of the armor. I often prefer to leave finer functions up to my VI, vocally requesting them. I'm still not savvy with these things yet, but I think I'm slowly improving. I've always been a quick learner, anyway. Though I have no hope of being a tech expert on the level of say Nata or Tali in the future.

The thought gives me a bit of sudden discomfort. How strange that somewhere out there, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya is just living her life. It still baffles me when I see Garrus in person. All the Mass Effect cast of characters are out there and I wouldn't be surprised if I ran into more of them soon.

Returning my attention to my OT, I eventually find the controls for the clothing colors and I use a convenient color wheel to change my jacket to an olive green and the pants to a black. I preset both colors. I also preset the clothes to automatically change colors to black when I don my armor. I look down at my clothes, satisfied with the color and look up at Tyr.

"You ever think of expanding?" I ask, looking at myself in a mirror.

"In what way?" Tyr asks, watching me.

"Like, you know. Getting a bigger shop in a bigger or more populated neighborhood. Better equipment and better supply." I muse out loud, more so thinking to myself than speaking to him. "All that means more money, more money means better shit. Sure you do use some unorthodox methods and produce stuff that's probably illegal but you could have a front where you just do normal crap and continue to do illegal stuff for me."

I look back at him. "What?"

He shrugs. "I've thought about it. I don't have the business to expand yet. I don't want excess business anyway. If C-Sec found this place they'd shut me down fast. I'm here in part to avoid notice."

"But also because you can't afford a bigger place." I say, looking at him significantly.

He shrugs. "I'm fine where I am."

I shrug turning back to the mirror. "Well, if you need an investor."

"That an offer?" He asks, crossing his arms in his reflection.

I nod. "Definitely. If you need something, you have a friend and partner in me. It may sound strange, but I trust you. I mean, I have to, right? By wearing your gear and using your guns I'm literally putting my life in your hands. And you don't seem the corruptible type."

He nods. "And that encourages you to invest with me?"

I nod. "Yeah. Pretty soon, I'll send some money your way and we'll call it the first of many investment installments."

There's a long pause but he nods and sticks his hand out. I turn, offering mine as well and we shake on it. His hand completely encompasses mine and embarrassingly makes me feel like I couldn't be more limp-wristed if my arms were spaghetti.

"Your regular armor will be repaired and reconstructed in a few days, expect 2; but I'll let you know when it's finished. Your guns are still in working order. They're on the table." Tyr points to the table. "Now, see yourself out. I have work to do. You can send the payment to the usual account. I'll send a bill to you shortly."

I nod and go to the table, retrieving my weapons. My old armor utilized holsters and magnetic strips to hold my weapons in place. I put the chest harness, belt and hip holster back on and grab a nearby weapon's crate to stow guns I won't be using. All my old guns are still here, along with a few additional items. There are a number of grenades here and I recognize 6 normal throwable frags, 6 flashbangs, and 6 disc-shaped magnetic charges. In addition to my one revolver-like pistol, another identical one is laid alongside it with a holster that can be looped into a belt. Finally, my two new guns, the marksman rifle and compact SMG, are laid out among my other normal weapons. For now, I stow away my old automatic assault rifle, my shotgun, and the new marksman rifle into the weapon's crate. I load up the pouches on my belt with a few grenades, 2 of each should be enough and put the rest into the crate with the guns.

I take my new pistol and hold it up to different parts of my body, trying to decide where I should put it so that I can have the most access to it and where it won't be uncomfortable. I briefly consider holstering it on my shoulder, beneath my armpit. That way, the gun can be concealed beneath my jacket. But it might also be more difficult to draw with my left hand if I want to use a gun in each hand, though I don't really picture myself doing that. In a few difficult spots back in Rapture I did go akimbo, but it wasn't really practical seeing as how I kind of need a free hand to use plasmids and I've become semi-ambidextrous in that I'm now more used to using plasmids with my left hand and shooting with my right. That being said, I would like the option if I need it.

I end up looping the new holster with the new gun on my belt in front of my left hip at a slight upward angle, the grip facing my right hand. That way I can sit without it digging into my groin or stomach and I can draw it as easily as the one holstered on my right leg. I test it out and find I can also easily draw it with my left hand as well, though it might take some practice to be able to draw it backwards and then turn it one handed so it points the right direction. As for the SMG, the back of my belt has a mag strip there as well and it snaps into place beneath my jacket. That might be a bit uncomfortable for my lower back if I sit but at least it's easily accessible.

I head out of Tyr's workshop once I'm geared up with my weapons crate in hand, making sure that my armor is concealed. Outside I take a deep breath of the cold air.

Well. That was a nice way to kill an hour but I'm still not ready to go home. What else should I do? I could go visit Vaga. He's certainly up at this hour.

I decide to call him. It doesn't take long for him to pick up either.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my good friend." Vaga answers, sounding like he's in a club or bar based on the background noise. "I haven't heard from you in a while. I'm starting to think that you only call me when you need something."

"I was going to actually ask if you were busy and wanted to hang our or something." I say with a bit of a sigh, realizing only now how low I'm sinking and how desperate I must seem.

"Hm… No." Vaga replies, matter-of-factly. It's so matter-of-fact that I'm struck dumb and unable to formulate a response. Wow, that's surprisingly painful.

"That is, unless, you prove to me that you're actually interested in my friendship and not just my partnership!" Vaga suddenly says, sounding much brighter and also drunk now that I'm listening closely.

I roll my eyes. I'll probably regret this. "Uh, yeah sure. What do you want me to do? It's nothing weird, right?"

Vaga scoffs. "What kind of person do you take me for?"

I just raise my eyebrows rather than answer.

"Yeah, yeah okay I get it, no need to be rude." Vaga responds. "It's nothing weird! I just need you to make a delivery for me. I was supposed to do it but I got side tracked, not to mention the buyer arrived a bit ahead of schedule. Just meet the buyer, provide the information they're paying for, and collect payment. Then come meet me at Dark Star!"

I nod. "Okay, that sounds simple. Where's the buy?"

"Some docks on Zakera. The buyer has just arrived over there and are waiting. The buyer's name is Stiv Kay, a human. Ask for identification. The information they want isn't really data, so much as a name." Vaga explains. "I'm going to send you an encrypted message. You can either just tell them the name or forward the message to them. Up to you. Just delete the message afterwards either way."

I receive two messages from Vaga shortly thereafter. One is unencrypted, just an address. I input it into my navigational program and delete the message. The second message is encrypted and I can't open it without sitting down to decrypt it. I'll do it when I get there.

"Okay, Vaga, see you soon." I say into my OT before ending the call and heading to a nearby cab station. I hop in and take the short ride over to the docks where the buyers are waiting. Along the way, I armor myself up, pleased to see that my jacket and pants change to a black color. Well, my pants were already black, but they change a bit. Damn that's a cool feature though.

Once the cab arrives, I hop out and walk the short distance to the specific dock where the buyers are waiting. I approach a docking bay and press the door's control. It's locked but there's a ring-bell feature that I utilize. A few seconds later, a gravelly voice responds from the door control:

"Yes?"

"Delivery." I respond, my helmet's voice changer doing its magic, making my voice even more deep and gravelly than this guy's.

"Come in."

The control panel's interface switches from red to green and I press it, opening the door. I walk into a small docking bay. It's just a small staging area for cargo, attached to the Citadel's port authority so it can be inspected before being unpacked and distributed across the Citadel. Thankfully I need not pass through any customs to get here, though the one C-Sec customs enforcement officer that I came across tried pointedly to ignore my presence. An additional bribe ensures that they'll give me some privacy for a few minutes at least.

Once inside the small docking bay, the runway attaching it to the buyers' ship standing on one side of the room and the door to the port authority on the other, I do a quick bearing check. No cargo, save for a few crates that might have been here before. The buyers are all armored and almost all batarian. Hm. I can't help but feel suspicious.

Wow. Check your privilege Splicer. Damn, I need to do a deep dive into overt racial/species biases that I might have when I get home. Though all these buyers are armored, not all are armed. In fact, the only armed individual is the only human of the group. The batarians are all wearing rust colored armor with black painted markings on them. Uniformed in a sense. Most sit around lazily, but one stands near the door panel to my right.

The human of the group, a tall, lithe man with broad shoulders and strong arms is armored differently. He's wearing a combination of light and medium armors, asymmetrically, such that his left arm, left chest, left shoulder and both legs are armored with crimson medium armor pieces and his right arm, chest, and his stomach are armored in light black armor. It's a very Zaeed look. As for weapons, he has a pair of real knives or daggers sheathed on his chest plate. They're curved, very long and look razor sharp. In addition to those two large blades, he has what looks like a monomolecular dagger on the back of his belt and a few smaller, probably throwing knives strapped on his belt and forearms. What a douche. He looks like a douche as well. A scary one, but a douche nonetheless. He has greasy slicked back raven black hair, pale skin crisscrossed with numerous thin scars, a bony and clean shaven face, and most unsettling of all his left iris is noticeably red while his left is blue. Heterochromia. The human smiles at me.

"Well, well, well." He looks left and right to his companions before bowing to me. "What an honor. The infamous Splicer, in the flesh."

"Stiv Kay." I say, not phrasing it as a question. The sooner I get out of here, the better. I open my OT and begin to run my encryption of the message Vaga sent me.

"I am." Stiv Kay responds, flashing a toothy grin, revealing a gold tooth near the front. "I must say I am quite the fan."

"I'll need some proof of identity." I say, ignoring him.

"This proof enough?" He says, drawing one of his long knives.

"… Why would…? Can you just show me an ID or something?"

He rolls his eyes. "No fun. Fine. Here."

He opens his OT and displays his Citadel visa.

I roll my eyes. "Payment?"

"Name first." Stiv Kay responds.

I shrug and open my OT. I hold my arm out and show him the interface. Stiv Kay approaches and presses on it and stares at the screen. He nods, satisfied.

"Perfect. Pay the gentleman." Stiv Kay says, walking towards the runway that leads to their ship.

A nearby batarian starts fabricating a credit chit to give to me as payment. I raise my arm to delete the message with the name and see it's still open. I mean, it's only natural that I read the only two words in that message, revealing the name that these guys are paying for.

Oh. Uh oh.

"Wait!" I shout, holding up my hand just as the batarian is holding the credit chit out to me. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on I need to think."

Stiv Kay stops and the batarians all look confused. They all stare at me. There's a long stretch of silence as I try to think of what to do now.

"Well?" Stiv Kay asks with a frown. "What is it?"

"Uh…" I mumble, looking back at the name displayed on my OT. "Well shit. Now I'm at a loss here. Uh. One sec."

I turn around, as if that'll make a difference, and call Vaga. He answers pretty quickly.

"Hey! How'd it go, buddy? You on your way?" Vaga asks, sounding pleased.

"Not yet." I respond, glancing over my shoulder. "So, I'm in a bit of a predicament. What would happen if, say, I didn't give them the name?"

"Well, hypothetically, if you didn't give them what they paid you for that'd be stealing in an abstract sort of way. Though if you didn't accept payment that might be better. Either way, chances are that you and I will both be killed for defying the Shadow Broker, so that's not really ideal. Why do you ask?"

I click my tongue. "No reason. I'm just in a bit of a pickle. I know the person whose name I just gave to these guys. And they do already have it."

"Ah I see. Well. Alternatively. You could kill them all. I'd just say the deal went south. Though that would put quite the damper on my reputation, and I'd need to pay a fine to the Shadow Broker of ten times the value of the information we're selling. Bad faith deals are not good for business, you see." Vaga says, nonchalantly. "But I trust you. Just follow you gut and let me know what happens when you get here."

I hang up and consider my options. I have a deep, nagging feeling that I've inadvertently stumbled my way into a Mass Effect continuum sort of plotline here. If I don't let them walk away with the name, I risk the continuum getting messed up and certain events from not occurring. That would be bad. But also, I have a bad feeling that turning over the name to this two-colored bozo behind me will have negative outcomes.

Worst of all, I don't know what those outcomes will be or the result of my not getting involved because for the life of me I can't remember the connection between all of these things. It's been seven years, at least, since I've played Mass Effect 2, let alone payed any close attention to what people are saying to each other.

Stiv Kay… What did he do again? If I kill him, how will that effect the story? Ugh. Crap. This is a problem. I'm really stuck here.

I hear Stiv Kay clear his throat behind me. "You've been standing there for more than a minute. Several minutes. Is there some kind of problem? We have the money."

I look back at him. "Could you hold on? I'm working through a quandary."

He nods and raises his hands in acquiescence. "Take your time. I'm not in any rush."

"Thank you." I say, facing away from them again. "Fuck, now what am I forgetting?"

I remember the gist of this companion's storyline. Their loyalty mission… This probably has something to do with his family? But what was it? Not his son, no. His wife? Oh. Hm. If I give Stiv Kay this information, and what I think will happen happens, then I'm directly responsible. Now that, I can't accept.

I turn back around. "Okay! I have come to a conclusion."

"And?" Stiv Kay asks, looking unconcerned with whatever that conclusion is.

"Unfortunately, I can't in good conscience let you leave now that you have that name, so if all of you would like to leave the room while I kill this guy, feel free." I say gesturing to the batarians.

Everyone looks at each other, confused.

Stiv Kay shakes his head. "Grab him."

The batarians don't hesitate, several of them dive for me. Quick to react and competent, they manage to grab me before I can draw my gun. I have one grabbing each of my arms and a third circling behind us and wrapping his arms around my neck. Well isn't this a pickle? Stiv Kay is already moving, coming towards me with those big knives.

There is nothing more unsettling than seeing someone charging at you with huge knives, I challenge you to think of something more disturbing. I bring both of my legs up, letting the batarians all take my weight, seeing which will cave first. The one on my right stumbles and loses his grip on my arm. I thrust my foot down onto his leg hard, knocking him to the ground and freeing my arm completely. I quickly draw my pistol, shoot the batarian on my left three times in the gut before turning and throwing my weight around to swing the one on my back around. I do so just in time as Stiv Kay was just leaping into the air to spear my chest with his knives. His knives bury into the batarian instead and I throw them both off of me.

Spinning around, I shoot the two other batarians before my gun overheats. I holster it and draw the second one, finishing them off. Stiv Kay then tackles me from the side, thrusting one of his knives into my hip and the other into my shoulder as he does. The armor does its job and stops them from completely impaling me, but they do penetrate somewhat. With his blades piercing my hip on one side and shoulder on the other, and with him laying on top of me, pinning my right arm underneath me, I'm in a bit of a tight position.

Kay shifts forward and raises a third blade to stab at my throat when the room is suddenly filled with red light.

"Alarm, alarm. You are now detained. Your vehicle is being impounded. You have broken Citadel penal code 112A and have used deadly force without authorization." Avina's voice announces through the room. "Remain where you are and cease all action immediately."

Stiv Kay sneers and presses the blade he's holding to my throat before cursing. He wheels back and gets to his feet. I rip out the blade in my hip and toss it aside, getting to my feet to give chase. But just as I do, a knife flies into my foot, just at the point where my boots are unarmored. I cry out in pain as I feel my tendons and bones separate before I stumble and fall on my face. That knife was not only perfectly aimed at one of the few weak points in my armor, but timed perfectly too as it caught my mid step. I grunt and take a few deep breaths before hauling myself back up to my feet, ignoring the agony in my foot and hip. But by now Stiv Kay has gained a solid 20 meters distance from me. I hiss in pain through my teeth, spraying spit onto the inside of my helmet as I hobble forwards anyways. I can't let him get away.

I see him reach the ship and get into it, shutting the door behind him. Thank goodness it's impounded now. The ship is probably locked there.

An explosion suddenly fills the gangway to the ship with flame and flying metal shrapnel and I get thrown back a bit from the directed force of it traveling back from the tunnel. The smoke and flames clear instantly as the ship suddenly starts going, tearing the tunnel off with it still attached to its side, like a car driving off with the gas pump still in it. The damaged tunnel is suddenly decompressed as all the atmosphere in it and in the room I'm in rush out into the vacuum of space.

I feel myself get pulled toward the opening but thankfully an emergency system takes over and shuts the gangway off within a few seconds. I still slam against the door with impressive force, enough to take the wind completely out of me.

I lay on the floor for a few seconds before groaning and getting to my feet. I hurry over to the door, using Telekinesis to retrieve the credit chit for the job's payment along the way, and I use my OT to hack it, still wheezing and gasping from having the air knocked out of me, stars and spots dancing across my vision. A few seconds later, the door opens, and I stumble out. I can't let him get away, but there isn't much I can do. C-Sec will be descending on this place in a matter of seconds anyways. Maybe even less time than that as I can hear their boots stomping into the metal floor of the Citadel not far off. I quickly take a few deep breaths and gather my bearings, activating Aero Dash and dashing across the street to a darker alley between two stores. I have to catch myself against the wall as I come to a stop, putting my weight against it for a second. I look back and see a few C-Sec officers gathering at the door I just came from. I watch them for a second, trying to see if they saw me, but none of them are looking around for me, so I muster my vigor and hurry on.

Once at a nearby cab station, I decide to just cut my losses and I call a cab for home. Once in the cab, I curse in frustration and pound my fist on my thigh in anger. This proves a bad idea, as shocks of pain run down my leg to my still injured foot.

Damn.

I activate Afterburn, feeling a surge of heat and energy wash through me as my cells burn EVE. I feel my foot get hot and then the pain subsides, and the same occurs in my hip and shoulder, until all that's left is a dull, albeit uncomfortable throbbing. I deactivate my healing plasmid and sigh, leaning back in my chair.

That dirty fuck. I can't believe I let him get the better of me. I'm so damn stupid sometimes. I've been letting myself get cocky. I can't let that happen again. How can I fix this?

I sigh and call Vaga.

"Hey, what happened?" Vaga asks, sounding eager but also a bit concerned.

"Things went south. I killed most of them, but one got away with the name. I did grab the payment, however." I say, feeling suddenly as exhausted as I should have been feeling this whole time.

"Hm. Well that's not ideal. But getting the payment is good news. A least the Shadow Broker gets their cut. As for us, I think I'll need to do some damage control. Who's this person to you? The person whose name we just sold?" Vaga asks and I can hear the frown in his voice.

"It's a bit complicated." I reply, not wishing to explain further. "But I need you to do me a favor."

"What's that?" Vaga asks.

"I need you to just warn him. Thane Krios. I just need you to tell him that Stiv Kay is coming. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but can you just warn him?" I ask, resting my head in my hand.

"Uh, that's pretty unorthodox. I can try but most of my contacts are Shadow Broker. If they find out I'm warning this Thane Krios and they look into this botched deal, they'll know something's up. I will do it, but I'm going to do it carefully. I like you, but I like living more." Vaga says. He's silent for a moment before he continues. "I trust you, you know. And I do a lot for you. The least you could do is trust me."

I nod. "Yeah, I know. This Thane Krios. He's… a friend, abstractly speaking. It's complicated, Vaga. It's not a thing about trust, I just don't really understand it myself either."

"It's fine. I'll get what you asked done and I'll let you know when it's done… you don't sound so good. Maybe you should just head home. We can hang out some other time. And when we do I promise I won't send you on a job beforehand." Vaga says, lightness returning to his voice somewhat.

I force a small laugh, out of courtesy. "I'd appreciate that, though I do like to work for you as well. You always have something interesting for me."

"Damn straight. Goodnight, Splicer." Vaga says.

"Night." I hang up. Before I forget to, I upload the credit chit's credits to my account and then transfer it all to Vaga. I botched this one. I won't take payment for missions I fuck up… though that was a lot of money.

I sigh and put my head back against the seat. What a damn mess.

…

I rarely dream. I don't sleep heavily enough to dream, nor long enough to fall into deep sleep. I tend to sleep only lightly, with frequent breaks that last a few seconds. I wake only long enough, basically, for me to look around the room and listen for a moment. Sometimes I hear something or see something, and it takes me a long time to go back to sleep afterwards.

But things are a bit different tonight. I've been sleeping for longer periods recently; probably because I've been getting used to living here, as opposed to a cleared-out Rapture hotel, where I would move to a different room every evening. I often would move to a particular room, leave it trapped to hell and then sleep in a different room's closet nearby, just to throw off any splicers who came looking for me.

Usually nothing happened, but I had had more than a few close calls and in Rapture there was no such thing as being too cautious or too paranoid. Most splicers didn't need to sleep anyways. They took tonics that accelerated cellular activity, so they could sleep standing up and walking, or even cocoon themselves. Some even took tonics that eliminated the need for sleep. I was tempted to take some of those options a few times, but I think lack of sleep was a contributing factor to madness.

Tonight, thanks to a few weeks of getting used to my environment and thanks to the waves of exhaustion washing over me, I fell asleep nearly immediately and very deeply.

Initially I thought that I wasn't dreaming. Just blackness is all I saw. But a sound, a very familiar one, immediately shocked that out of me. It was a loud, high pitched beep that echoes into the void. Then silence. Then another, shrill beep. Then silence. Then a third one, this one with a shorter break of silence. Then I hear the next sound, creeping out of the void. The ringing, dull at first like tinnitus. Slowly it crescendos, getting louder, more incessant, and then painful. The shrill ringing is broken up by hard, shrill beeps that get faster and faster.

Then the smell. God. Metallic, fishy, rotten. The anxiety overwhelms me. I can feel it reaching out to me.

Then I wake, in a sticky, cold sweat. My sheets and blankets are scattered around in a mess and I find that I left a pretty embarrassing me-shaped sweat stain on the bed. I check the time. Well, it's early, but not so early that I'd be weird for being up and about. I get up, take a slow shower, get dressed and head into the kitchen.

I found out you can cook for a quarian, you know. But it's really task-intensive. Think the usual cross-contamination and sanitary measures you might take and then multiply those times 8,000. But if it means that Nata gets to eat something other than toothpaste then I'll take the steps needed. I bought some quarian friendly food, mostly turian produced, and get to preparing it. I wear gloves and a breather and a hairnet. I cook inside of a weird bubble sort of thing. And when I'm finished, I put the food into an eating bubble. I nod to myself satisfied and then start cooking myself a much more easily prepared breakfast.

I hear the door to the guest room open and Nata comes out, stretching. She suddenly winces and yelps, holding her side.

"You good?" I ask, looking at her, somewhat concerned.

She grunts and nods. "Yeah. Getting shot hurts pretty bad. It was my first time, you know."

I scoff. "Well, I was going to say get used to it, but that might be a bit messed up to say."

She laughs and I hear her sit at the island behind me. "Mm. You cooked for me!"

"By way of a thank you, for saving me." I say, looking back at her with a smile. "Try not to get used to it, though. It took me two hours just to make that… And you're still scanning it for bacteria aren't you?"

Nata looks up, her OT alight and hovering over the bubble. "Well, duh. I got shot and I'm on antibiotics. It's not like I can afford to get foodborne illness either… Well, would you look at that? It's clean!"

I laugh and shake my head and refocus on cooking for myself while Nata enjoys a rare solid meal. At some point I get a bit lost in my head. I feel tired. I should have slept more, but I wasn't going back to sleep after that. Maybe I should see someone, talk through what I saw. It's weird. I can't remember what I saw, really. It's like, burned into my mind. But whenever I try to think about it all that I can recall is total blackness. And the thing's face. That, I can remember, pretty vividly. But everything else not so much.

Wait that's not true. I can also recall that whenever that happens, I get dragged to some other universe. Maybe that's why I got so anxious and I woke up so anxious. It was just a nightmare, a recollection. But I was, honestly, afraid that I'd get dragged somewhere else… I need to look into this more, maybe.

"Why do you do that?" Nata asks behind me.

"Do what?" I ask, somewhat startled out of my trance by the unprompted question.

"You, uh… Is it talking to yourself?" Nata asks, looking up at me. "Or are you like thinking out loud?"

Taken off guard I'm confused for a moment. "Was I? Sorry, it wasn't talking to myself. I got into the habit of thinking out loud, like voicing my thoughts."

"Why?"

So that I wouldn't feel so alone all the time trapped in Rapture. "I don't know. It helps solidify them, I think. Keeps me from second guessing myself… what was I doing, exactly?"

She shrugs. "Just kind of mumbling, I didn't catch all of it. But if you were saying you need psychiatric help, I agree."

I scoff. "Well gee, thanks."

She tilts her head at me. "Seriously, there's no shame in see a counselor or psychiatrist when something's bothering you."

I shake my head and plate my food. "Mm hm."

"Oh, so the big strong man is afraid to talk about his feelings, is that it?" Nata asks, crossing her arms. "Grow up. It's not unmanly to maintain your mental health."

I give her a look and then just shake my head. Despite the truth of what she says, I still feel embarrassed. The fact that I feel embarrassed I think makes me feel more embarrassed.

Nata sighs. "Look. You've had a hard time. I'm… I'm sorry. If you need help finding someone, I've heard that the Consort is quite popular and effective as a counselor. Most people I hear just want to speak with her rather than the… other thing."

I nod, intrigued. "Uh yeah. That actually sounds like a pretty good idea. I'll go today… How was the food?"

She sits back and puts a hand on her stomach. "Wonderful! Though to be honest, I might have to spend the whole day in the bathroom. My body is just not used to solid meals."

Later…

I walk up to the Consort's Chambers, across from the Citadel embassies on the Presidium. I take a deep breath and head inside. The interior looks, more or less, exactly like I recall it does in the games. And pleasantly, just like in the game, Nelyna is there to greet me.

When I enter, she already has a smile on, as is probably expected of her as the greeter. But upon seeing me, she beams and rushes up to me. When she smiles like that it's like she glows. I'm sure everyone knows or has known that sort of person that just radiates positivity and loveliness. Being near her is addictive.

Nelyna throws her arms over my shoulders and around my neck, giving me a hug. She's shorter than me so I squat down a bit in order to give her a better hug. Her cheek touches mine, and it feels warm and smooth. I feel her hands on my back and then one comes up and touches the back of my head, stroking my hair a bit. My hands are on the small of her back. Her waist is very small.

I suddenly realize that I haven't been breathing. So, I pull away and Nelyna lets me, still smiling up at me. I try to subtly take a breath but it's not so subtle. Okay. Pull it together now.

"Hey Splicer!" Nelyna says with her ever-bright smile. She puts her hands on her hips. "It'd be too much to hope that you're here just to visit me huh?"

I smile, embarrassed. "Unfortunately no, I was hoping to speak with the Consort. But I'll be sure to come visit more often."

"Please do! Unfortunately, there's a 14-18 month wait at the moment for an appointment with the Consort. But as you may know, the Consort accepts or declines clients on a case-by-case basis, so the wait time might be a little shorter." Nelyna says, giving me a sympathetic look.

I sigh. "I figured it'd be a long wait. There's nothing you can do?"

Nelyna shakes her head but pauses. "Well, I could just let her know that you're here. If you wait, she might see you. But that's a long shot. Sha'ira rarely sees… well, walk-ins."

I smile and take a seat in the waiting area, while Nelyna returns to her greeter's podium near the entrance. Shortly afterwards, an acolyte approaches me and offers me a drink. I get a water and sit quietly, sipping it. Some time later, I feel a hand gently shake my shoulder and I realize I'd fallen asleep at some point and my half-full glass of water is sitting nearby on a table. I look around the room and then up at Nelyna. She's smiling at me. Though that is by no means atypical, this one is a telling smile. She nods towards the stairway at the back which I know lead to the Consort's chambers.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "She'll see me?"

"Sha'ira said she's had an interest in meeting you and the timing is fortuitous. We're actually going to be closing soon and the Consort sometimes stays late to see a client." Nelyna says, clasping her hands together in front of her hips.

I rub my eyes. "You're closing soon? How long was I asleep?"

Nelyna smiles kindly. "You seemed tired when you came in. I asked the acolytes to let you sleep. You slept for about 3 hours."

"Jesus." I groan, rubbing my face. "Well that's embarrassing. She'll see me now?"

Nelyna gestures towards the stairway and smiles.

Why am I so nervous? I get up, stretch and walk towards the stairway. A few acolytes and clients still remain at this late hour and most of them watch me as I walk by, either because I'm going to see the elusive Consort or because I've been sleeping in the waiting area for the last 3 hours.

I walk up the stairs and take a deep breath before I open the Consort's room. The door opens with a quiet hiss and Sha'ira's very spacious chambers are revealed. Sha'ira lounges on the couch on the far wall, with her legs up on the couch and her arm resting on the back of the couch. She turns her head and looks at me as I enter the room. She doesn't smile, but she's not frowning either. She's looking at me with intense focus. I feel like her eyes are boring right through me.

She lowers her feet to the floor and stands, sauntering towards me as I approach her. I stop when we're a few feet apart, but she takes another two steps, until she's just inches from me.

"Splicer." She says, looking me in the eyes with quiet intensity. "Nelyna told me that you wished to speak with me."

"Nelyna also told me that you wanted to speak with me." I say back, refusing to be taken off guard by her right now. No doubt she's uniquely capable of seeing into the hearts of others.

Sha'ira smirks, coyly. "You are glib for a human. Though very young to be running about the Citadel, causing trouble and solving as many problems as you create. I trust though that you had a reason for coming here."

I nod as she takes a few steps back from me and moves towards the couch. I follow. "Yes. I won't mince words. I have some problems that I'm not capable of solving myself. I was hoping you could help me."

"I see. Often our greatest enemies are ourselves. Perhaps that is the result of our higher levels of understanding as to what causes us the most harm." Sha'ira muses as she takes a seat on the couch and gestures for me to sit as well. "I sense that you are confused. You don't understand your own problems, no?"

I shrug and sit. "I suppose not."

"What exactly is troubling you?" Sha'ira asks, looking at me and sitting closely.

I think for a moment, compiling a list in my head. "Well, I feel excessively paranoid at times. I usually sleep for only short periods and very lightly but even going to sleep has been getting tough. When I do sleep I tend to sleep longer than normal, but when I do I have nightmares."

"What do you see in your nightmares?"

"A skull." I respond, zoning out a bit. "Made half of metal and half of bone."

"I see." Sha'ira says, thinking. "If you like, to better understand you, we can meld our minds. That way, I can see what you see and understand what you are feeling."

I look at her, warily. "It won't harm you, will it?"

She gives a small laugh. "Not at all."

I take a breath and think on it before I nod. "Okay, sure. We can try it."

Sha'ira shifts in her seat so that she's facing me and looks me in the eyes, not breaking the gaze for anything. I start to feel… entranced in a way as we continue to make this uninterrupted eye contact. After a long while, Sha'ira gently places her hands on the sides of my head, her fingers touching my temples.

"Clear your mind." Sha'ira says, stating it like an order. And on command, my mind empties. "Embrace eternity."

Sha'ira's eyes go black and my vision does as well.

…

I'm floating in darkness again. But this time I'm not alone. I look over at Sha'ira. She smiles at me calmly and she takes a hold of my hand. The darkness slowly melts away and I'm…

I'm at home. Like home, home. My house back before Rapture. I'm just sitting in my room. God, I haven't thought about this in so long. I stopped doing that before long in Rapture. I look around my room, like it's a new place.

"This is your home?" Sha'ira asks.

"It's where I was born and where I spent my childhood." I respond, looking around the room: at the various knick-knacks I kept on my desk nearby, the posters on my wall, the plants I kept on my windowsill, and the multitude of blankets and pillows on my bed.

Sha'ira smiles at me. "It's calm."

I nod. "Yes."

"Let's move on." Sha'ira says. "I've learned what I need to from here. Though it does perplex me."

The walls and furniture of the room begin to melt away. I don't say anything and let it fade away from my view everything diving back into darkness. I think I'm ready to let go of that.

"That's good. Moving on is healthy." Sha'ira says, before looking at me with a smile. "Nothing is hidden here."

I sigh. "I don't tend to keep anything to myself anyways."

The darkness melts away again and Sha'ira and I are bathed in dark blue light. I look at Sha'ira, who looks around, confused. We're in the large ballroom of the hotel I lived in for most of the time I was in Rapture. The ballroom is huge, high ceilinged with a large viewing balcony wrapping around the room above. The far wall of the ballroom is a huge glass wall and beyond it the open ocean is before us.

"Where… What is this place?" Sha'ira asks, confused. "I sense that you think this is also home?"

I nod. "It was while I was here. This is where I grew up."

I hear a sound behind me and I see… myself. I enter the room, pushing a handcart full of Splicer corpses. I'm thin, lean and pale. My hair is grown down to my shoulders but tied into a ponytail. I have a patchy beard as well. My clothes are filthy. I have a belt with a pistol, several EVE hypos tucked into loops on the back like bullets on a pistol belt. I'm carrying a shotgun in my hand and I look tired.

I watch myself shrug a backpack off my shoulders and I go sit on a large cushiony chair. I watch myself sigh, open a pack of cigarettes and light one.

I watch Sha'ira walk over to that cartful of corpses, horror plain on her face.

"What are they?" She asks, her voice somewhat shaken.

"They're splicers." I respond. "Watch."

Sha'ira turns around and looks at me, then at my past self. My past self clears his throat and puts an old school headset on, picking a microphone off the table next to the chair. He presses the button on the microphone, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and says, "Open main entrance, ballroom."

There's a mechanical sound that echoes through the ballroom and then the sound of a metal door cranking open. Sha'ira and I turn to a shuttering metal door opening from in front of the main entrance to the ballroom. Heavy, pounding footsteps start echoing through the room and I shiver. But my past self just continues calmly smoking his cigarette.

The heavy footsteps drown everything out for a time, but the running footfalls of small, bare feet approaching become apparent as well. A Little Sister runs into the room, syringe in hand and eyes glowing fiendishly. Then a second Little Sister enters, and then a third.

I look back at my past self, who curses, putting out his cigarette on the armrest of the chair. He picks his microphone back up and speaks into it quickly. I lean over to Sha'ira.

"It's really uncommon for multiple Little Sisters to be in once place at a time. Usually it's one Sister per Big Daddy, but sometimes a stronger Big Daddy will have two with him. This one had three." I explain, leaning over to Sha'ira with my arms crossed.

Sha'ira looks at me confused but doesn't say anything, looking back at the entrance. Her eyes go wide as a larger than average Big Daddy comes into the room. He has a rocket launcher on his left shoulder and rather than the normal drill arm, he has a large diamond edge saw, meant for cutting steel or concrete. The saw is already spinning slowly when he enters the room and he looks around the room cautiously.

He spots my past self immediately and gives a menacing, aggressive growl and a spin of his saw before slowly backing towards the Little Sisters who are already harvesting the pile of corpses on the cart.

Sha'ira grabs my arm. "We should go."

I look back at myself, staring wide eyed at the Big Daddy and back towards the entrance to the ballroom. I look at Sha'ira and nod. "If you wish."

The room fades away and we're surrounded by darkness again.

"What are you?" Sha'ira asks me.

I smirk. "I'm a splicer."

Sha'ira, who's been in my head and who's understood what's inside, gives me a surprised and then a sad look. She puts her hand on my cheek. "You… poor thing."

I feel myself tear up a bit and then a nearly deafening, high pitched beep rings through the room. I look around alarmed.

"We need to go. We need to stop." I say, panicked.

Sha'ira shakes her head. "This is part of the process. We need to see… what? Wait…"

She looks out into the darkness and I look too. Distantly, I see a faint red light. It pulses brightly with the next beep, and then dims again. As the beeps get faster, the pulses continue, and the light continues to get brighter and brighter. Finally, blessedly, the beeping stops, and the light reduces to a faint dot again.

Suddenly, a blast of thunderous, deep, robotic roaring echoes through the darkness and the light gets overwhelmingly bright and a face appears behind it.

Sha'ira takes a shocked breath in and I feel her hand on my arm.

…

I take a sudden breath and look around the room. We're back in the Sha'ira's chambers. I look at Sha'ira. Her face is glistening with sweat and she has her hand pressed to her forehead. She falls back but catches herself.

"Are you okay?" I ask, concerned, getting to my feet but stumbling when I realize that I'm also sweaty and lightheaded. "Whoa. Uh. Do you need some water?"

She holds up her hand. "No, I'm fine. Thank you. That was close."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah. But it was just a dream, we were fine."

Sha'ira, still a little breathless, holds her hand up again. "No. It was more than that. That was something else. It wasn't just a dream. You're right to be afraid."

I stare at her stunned for a while. "Uh… what?"

"First, you are unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Your past is… inexplicable. I don't entirely understand it. Frankly it may be beyond comprehension. Second, your pain and past are unconscionable. I am sorry that you have suffered but I respect your resilience. Finally, that thing you see in your nightmares is… you're not wrong that you are experience nightmares. But you are not correct either. I sensed its consciousness and it is somehow connected to your own consciousness. That thing is real, Splicer."

A Few Moments Later…

I step out of the Consort's Chambers and take a deep breath of the cool air. Well. That didn't help at all.

"Hey!" I hear nearby. I look up at see Nelyna coming towards me. She's wearing casual clothing, simple black leggings and a t-shirt.

I smile at her as she approaches. "Nelyna. Good to see you."

She reaches me and smiles as well. "How did it go?"

I sigh. "Uh… well, it could have gone better. What are you up to?"

She brightens when I ask. "Actually, I was waiting for you! I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner or something?"

"I would love to, Nelyna." I saw, not attempting to stifle the embarrassingly large smile that comes to my face.

Nelyna beams. "Great! I know a great place close by! We can walk… Oh shoot! Hey sorry I forgot something back inside. Let me go grab it, I'll be right back!"

I nod and watch Nelyna run back around the corner to the employee's entrance. I lean against the wall and close my eyes for a second. What a strange day. I then hear a muffled sound. It's unmistakably a gunshot. I look up and frown in the direction I hear the sound. Distantly, I see a figure leaving Barla Von's office. Uh oh.

I head that way, drawing my pistol from the front holster beneath my jacket. I didn't see where the figure went off, but it looked like a turian maybe. Once I get to Barla Von's office door, I peek in through the open doorway. The lights are off, and I see a dark shape near the desk. I go to turn my OT light on when I notice a bit of movement in the corner of the office. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light from that corner and I quickly shoot twice and duck into cover. I turn on my OT light and then pop back out of cover, aiming into the office. Nothing in the corner where I shot. I quickly sweep my light and pistol around the room. Other than Barla Von's corpse, nothing in here.

I holster my pistol cautiously and I'm suddenly aware of an overwhelmingly awful smell. I gag and close my helmet around my head to keep the stink out. I shine my light towards Barla Von's corpse. That explains the smell. Blood and viscera are scattered around the room. Barla Von's entire head and part of his torso are gone, as if blasted by a shotgun perhaps or a maybe hit with a powerful biotic blast.

I approach the corpse, carefully examining it. Damn. Well, this is probably my fault. I left that chip here. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the work of some Shadow Broker assassin. Maybe I can ask Vaga about it. I should also check in with Ram. He might be in danger as a result of this as well. Most importantly though, Barla Von is semi-kind of important in the first hour or so of Mass Effect 1. If I recall correctly, Barla Von tells Shepard about Wrex I believe… But I know Shepard can just run into Wrex at some point as well so…

I hear a gasp behind me. I spin around, drawing my pistol, and dropping to a knee with my pistol readied. I see Nelyna standing in the doorway, hand covering her mouth and disgust on her face.

"Sorry." I say, holstering my gun and getting to my feet.

"Did… Did you kill him?" Nelyna asks, looking sickened.

I look back at Barla Von. "No, I heard a gunshot so I came to see what happened. Somebody shot him or… blew him up or something."

"Their suits are pressurized." Nelyna says, sounding like she's trying to stifle gags. She turns around to not face the corpse

"Ooooh." I say, looking at Barla Von's half exploded corpse. I guess when their suits rupture, like from a bullet, their suits violently tear open and blow them up a little bit. Interesting.

"Don't move." I hear a deep turian voice say.

I spin around again, drawing my pistol. Before I can draw it all the way though and take aim, the turian is already shooting. My shield breaks and a bullet hits me in the head before I can shoot back. The hit to the head makes me lose my balance and fall to the ground. My ears are ringing and I start seeing spots.

"Trying to shoot me, Splicer?" The voice says again. I look up at the turian, and don't recognize him. "That'll be a nice charge to add to the murder charge. You're under arrest."

"He didn't kill him!" Nelyna shouts, hands up. "He didn't do it!"

"Don't think you're off the hook either." The turian says, pistol readied and pointed squarely at me. I see now that he's clad in C-Sec armor. "You're both under arrest for murder."

Meanwhile…

"Is it done?" Miranda asks, leaning against the frame of a window, looking down at the gathering of C-Sec officers near the small office.

"Yes. They have him in custody… See they're taking him now." Rasa responds from a position closer to the office.

Miranda leans forward and watches as Splicer is dragged out of the office, easily identifiable even from a distance by his head to toe black armor. He seems to be resisting somewhat, his arms bound behind his back. The two C-Sec officers drag him to a C-Sec prisoner transport van. Suddenly, Splicer, impressively, throws both officers off of himself and turns to face a turian C-Sec officer who was following the trio. They appear to have a heated discussion, as Splicer doesn't do anything else other than face the turian and lean forward as if he's shouting. The turian is gesturing firmly. Then another turian comes up and punches Splicer and shoves him back into the transport van. The other turian faces the turian that Splicer was shouting at and seems to be telling him off.

"What's happening?" Miranda asks.

"Splicer threw off the officers taking him to the van to yell at a turian officer, named Garrus. Another officer named Chellick hit Splicer and threw him in the prison van. Chellick then started getting upset with Garrus, telling him to stop sympathizing with murderers." Rasa responds. "Could these two be the turians that went to Minuteman for Splicer?"

"Possible." Miranda responds, knowing for a fact that at one of them isn't involved. "But this'll keep Splicer busy and in one place for a few days until we get everything prepared."

Miranda watches the prisoner transport. Another prisoner is loaded onto it. No consequence, whoever that was. Just collateral damage; caught in the crossfire. The prisoner transport flies off as well as most of the officers. One of the turians remains and steps off to the side. Miranda ends the call with Rasa as she gets a new incoming call.

"It's done." Decian Chellick says to Miranda.

"I know. The money's already in your account. Fine work, thus far, though I would have liked to know your plan ahead of time." Miranda responds, stepping away from the window and walking to the luxurious but sparsely stocked kitchen of the apartment she's renting.

"It worked is what matters." Chellick responds. "What's next?"

"More will be in your account in a few days' time." Miranda responds, pouring herself a glass of wine. "Keep Splicer in custody for that long and make sure that ship stays impounded as well. Do that, and we'll overlook the slight you did us just a few days ago."

"I'll get it done, but I'm not sure what you're referring to." Chellick responds sounding cool.

"No? Getting your former partner involved in our operations last week was not part of the plan, Chellick. And I hope you know, that you have put his life in jeopardy as a result. We are not pleased. But we'll overlook that, just this once. You've done good work for us, otherwise." Miranda says, swishing the wine around in her glass.

Chellick is silent for a moment. "I need to maintain appearances, Ms. Lawson. Not reporting Cerberus on my station, when I become aware of it as a customs detective? People would start asking questions."

Miranda scoffs. "You give yourself too much credit old man. I sincerely doubt anybody is keeping any kind of close eye on you."

"You'd be surprised."

A/N:

First of all, thanks for reading this week. The next update will take a bit longer than normal. Now, going forward, if anyone posts reviews anonymously in response to any of my Black Lives Matter comments your review will be deleted. The review section is for the specific purpose of leaving ongoing criticisms/critique of my story. If you'd like to speak on the matter of race, directly message me.

Now the following is addressing a specific individual. If you are not this individual, feel free to move on with your life if you wish. To the specific anonymous reviewer who posted a racist, pro-white response to my previous chapter:

1. Before I even begin, you are not going to "get lynched, metaphorically or literally," for what you said. You aren't going to get lynched for being white or racist. I'd even make the argument that you are incapable of being lynched, because you are white. You see, lynching was a method of murder by torture that targeted black people. You can be lynched for being black, sure. But as a white person, hidden behind both anonymity and a profile, you'll be fucking fine. So next time, don't worry so much about being anonymous. Even if you get your profile reported and your ass chewed out for being racist and using racially charged language (like lynching), you can just make a new profile and continue being anonymously racist.

2. If you think it's necessary to anonymously post your opinion, and acknowledge that your opinion "would get you lynched," then you are acknowledging the social and moral incorrectness of your words. You might as well have just tattooed "racist imbecile" on your face. Your opinion is wrong and it is racist and clearly you know that it is (racist choice of wording aside). Your review has been deleted. Going forward any review which I feel negatively impacts the conversation will be deleted, especially if they are anonymous. As stated earlier, the review section is for reviews of this story. To you, anonymous reviewer, are a coward for hiding behind the internet to post your racist bullshit. Yes, I am angry. Partly because they chose to remain anonymous. But primarily because they didn't take up my challenge. They didn't reach out to me directly and attempt a discourse. They didn't give me the chance to try and prove them wrong. If you don't challenge your beliefs in the court of public opinion and through discourse with your peers, you're wrong, whoever you are. That goes for everyone.

3. I don't care that you don't feel personally responsible for slavery. And as bad as slavery was, our society continues to benefit from black lives, particularly you who I assume are a white person. If you're white, you live your life more easily than a black person does. Period. You don't fear for your life when you are pulled over by police. If we're talking numbers, a black person in Minneapolis is 7 times more likely to have force used against them by police than a white person (NYT). Black people are 2.5 times more likely to be killed by police during an encounter (ALJ). 1 in 1000 black men can expect to be killed by police (PNAS). Of all traffic stops done by SFPD, 26% were black even though black people only account for 5% of the population of San Francisco. 28% of traffic stops in LA were black even though black people account for only 9% of the overall population of LA (Guardian). Speaking as a white person myself, I don't care that you, another white person (I assume), don't feel personally guilty for slavery. But how can you make any claim to being a moral person, when our society tries to target blacks? So, frankly, fuck your feelings.

4. More people traffic these stories daily than my twitter page. So, I'll use whatever fucking platform I want to say what I want to say. And, unlike you, I have "[learned] some history." You ever think to challenge your understanding of history with other sources, mate? If you think emancipation was the end of black suffering, you're a fucking idiot.

5. If you don't agree with me, PM me and we'll try to prove each other wrong and I will be respectful. If you feel the necessity to leave a review arguing against me, again that's not what the reviews are for, please don't do so anonymously. That pisses me off. Nobody knows who the fuck you are anyways and if you're worried about getting "lynched," on fucking , boo fucking hoo.

Finally, if it bothers you that I'm going on about this, grow up and learn to be uncomfortable. White fragility is the least of my concerns. Also, don't read my story. It bothers me to think some white racist is out there reading my story and getting fumy when I say Black Lives Matter.