Disclaimer: I do not know ME except for a few things in this fic. :)

/""/ means talking over the commlink.

Manhunt

Prologue: Sub Rosa

Copia District.

The industrious commercial section of the Arcturus Station, people constantly working to earn a good day's pay. The only time the district could ever be empty was past the work hours. In the minutes of opening on an early morning, individual stalls opened, communication hubs were switched on and docks maintained to precise for arriving and departing starships. Even a minority of foreigners took the liberty to stay in the human space station for commerce by giving out to what the locals saw as impressive 'souvenirs', each selling over one or two thousand credits. There was never a dull moment in the district.

The coffee was hot and strong, just the way he liked it.

The gray-haired man in his later years stood close to a pillar amidst the crowd, the warm cup nestled within his fingers. He blended well among the civilians from the many years of experience in a career such as his. No one was the wiser to tear away the layers of his covert as they passed by. They went on like they would do on a normal day: two young women gossiping away with the latest rumors, a salarian tourist feeling out of place as he tried to figure out the station's directory and an elcor vendor selling toy model ships with a weekly store discount.

His eyes hawked about the sea of people surrounding him. He needed just one face. One face with a distinct marking that separated the bearer from the rest and that was enough to tackle.

They only had one chance.

/"It's been two hours, Boss. You sure this guy's coming?"/ A voice echoed into his ear.

The gray-haired man gazed up at the upper deck. Leaning against the balcony was an agile man in a clean suit, poised in his prime years. He lowered his shades down the bridge of his nose and observed vigilantly at the crowd below him.

"He'd better be, Walker," he replied. "Or Lopez will get more than just a deal."

/"Yeah, but c'mon. For all we know, this is probably another goose chase. Heck, Owen might have screwed up and this guy's skipped town by now."/

/"Hey, I did not screw up,"/ another voice argued in its defense. In the far corner of the plaza sat another man, younger and yet more professional-looking than Walker. If professional was the right word for his case, as he was but a rookie beneath his smart clothing. /"This district is where his calls were traced and the plaza is the only place where communication hubs are online for the public. The data isn't wrong."/

/"Says the tech geek."/

/"Ignore him, Owen."/ Opposite of Walker on the second floor stood a woman, speaking in a pure Greek accent. Unlike the women in the plaza that adorned themselves with fashionable dresses, she wore more suitable clothes for running with her long brown curls tied up. /"You've never made a mistake before."/

/"Thank you, Sofia."/

/"Ooh!"/

/"What?"/ the woman named Sofia spoke out attentively. /"Is he heading to the rendezvous point?"/

/"No, not that. New lingerie,"/ droned Walker like a schoolboy as his eyes locked on a particular stall. /"I bet they have your size, Sofia."/

/"Real mature, Cole!"/ she hissed. /"You should be glad I don't shoot you right now."/

A cocky smirk stretched on his face from afar. /"You know what your problem is? You're always uptight. You should be more relaxed and bendy like my girlfriend-"/

"Walker," the gray-haired man called. "What the hell are you doing? You're undercover, not shopping for gifts to blindfold a woman."

/"Technically, Boss, I'd prefer to give an expensive bouquet of flowers on the first date. Only on the third date, I'd buy a nice sway from–"/ One look at his unhappy superior below immediately silenced him from continuing the sentence further. /"You don't need to know that. Shutting up, boss."/

A chuckle escaped but at once was sealed shut in the woman's mouth when she received a glare from Walker.

She cleared her voice and changed the topic. /"But really, he is right. It has been two hours. Are we even sure he's going to come?"/

"He'll come," the gray-haired man assured over the commlink earwig and took another slip.

"–is not clear why the VI malfunctioned in the training base on Luna. Alliance military has informed the media that the problem has been dealt with but revealed no further information. The Alliance is also arranging a memorial service for seventeen marines who died on Luna. In other news–"

The loud announcement on the large news screen that centered in the plaza drew the old man's attention upwards to see an image of a young woman in her late twenties and a military armor, auburn hair cut short under the ears with most of the fringe draped down one side. Her face was expressionless to all – having a distinctive scar slid across her left eyebrow – such as the standards for a photo of an Alliance marine didn't require one to smile in it. But her green eyes strongly displayed their diligence and composure.

"Reporter Khalisah al-Jilani's interview with Commander Shepard several days ago has intrigued many positive responses from Earth and the Arcturus Station. While Shepard disclosed details regarding her current assignment when confronted, she stated that she is privileged to join the Spectres and humanity is now part of the Citadel Council, in equality to all races. This shows that she is indeed the right woman as the first human Spectre."

The old man smirked. He had remembered watching the woman on the screen speak out her words carefully but in an unprejudiced manner three days ago. A virtuous and refined reaction to a probing reporter it was that impressed him. It would have been better though, if the reporter had not ambush her with irksome questions in hopes to exploit the human Spectre right in front of the camera.

Personally, he would have told the reporter to back off if push came to shove. Even if millions of viewers were watching him.

Apprehension gradually replaced the beam. He had the right to be half pleased and half worried. Pleased that the woman knew how to talk well in front of the parasitic media without giving them reason to lash onto her for exposition. After all, she had learnt from the best.

Worried to hear that she was on a dangerous mission. And to make the pitting feeling in his gut worse, he could not get more details on what the mission was. Just rumors of pursuing a rogue Spectre.

He heaved a deep sigh before indulging himself to another slip.

Now wasn't a good time to be distracted.

His eyes floated back to the encircling crowd, darting from one walking station dweller to another. Each was going on with their daily lives, oblivious of a secret objective.

/"Boss, target spotted. Entering from the South Wing,"/ Owen alerted over the comm.

The old man ceased from turning his head to the south, a tactic he knew all too well not to give away his position. He allowed only his eyes to move and identify. One shabby character arrested his interest as the scrawny stranger hid his head under a cap. However, there was no point to conceal his face. Just a look at a gang tattoo on his open neck and a scar across his nose from an old injury long ago were enough for a positive ID.

/"Want us to take him down now, Boss?"/

"Negative," the superior responded to Walker. "We need his contacts."

The foursome watched as the nervous target chipped his credits into a hub and dialled in the numbers with a trembling finger. Waiting for his caller to pick up, he peered over his shoulders many times. Luckily, he wasn't observant enough to see away from the obvious, the four pairs of eyes deadlocked on him.

Click! The call went through. The gray-haired man brought out his Omni-tool and hit a key, amplifying his earwig up by a notch.

/"This is Lu."/

/"You shouldn't be calling this line."/

Unfortunately, the conversation that the group of four were eavesdropping couldn't give them a clue to the suspicious man's contact. The voice was muffled with a deep pitch from the other end of the connection.

/"Voice distortion device. Should have seen it coming. You getting this, Rookie?"/

/"Yup, got it, Cole,"/ Owen replied and began tapping away at his Omni-tool.

"How long to get an ID, Gibson?"

/"Just need a moment to get one as long as he stays connected, boss. Whoever he's calling, it's not a private line so I have to trace this manually."/

The old man continued the observation, examining the anxiety on their target's face as he persistently twitched his foot while looking about. Of course he had the right to be nervous, cautious that he could be watched.

/"Those tecs are sticking their noses too close. My contact wants to know when the Syndicate's getting paid,"/ the target demanded.

/"Tell your boss in due time. Azrael still has one more task to do, which I'm sure they'll be more than happy to do."/

/"Well, that one, he says, is gonna cost extra."/

/"That doesn't sound good,"/ exclaimed Sofia over the comm. /"Another hit job."/

/"Better pick it up, Rookie."/

/"Can't pinpointed the exact location but it's somewhere in the station."/

/"Not good enough, Owen."/ Patient was not a virtue for Walker.

/"I'm trying my best here. He must be using a Chameleon Tool to conceal the site."/

/"Heh. Looks like there's someone smarter than Owen."/

/"Look, we want to be paid now for those four!"/ the target persisted, more restless than before when told that complete payment would be done after the 'fifth'. /"The boss says Azrael needs more supplies if he's going to take out that one."/

/"Is that for him or for your organization?"/ his caller questioned.

/"Hey! You came to us to make this deal. My boss wants to be insured it's genuine before he sends Azrael. Cuz this marine isn't like the others–"/

The target stopped. His eyes bulged. His mouth dropped ajar with fright.

The old man frowned but not out of disappointment. The target was staring at one person amongst the sea of civilians: at him. His cover had been blown but that wasn't what the superior was concerned. He realized so on his target's face.

The target knew who he was the second he saw him.

The coffee cup dropped to the floor, gushing out its black liquid. With an instant, the target hightailed out of the plaza, the old man chasing after him with a pistol in hands.

As said before, there was never a dull moment.

"Suspect heading to the docks! Gibson! With me!" the gray-haired man yelled as Owen joined him in the chase, swapping his Omni-tool for his handgun. "Floros! Walker! Cut him at the turbolifts!"

/"We'll on it!"/

Their target dashed fast, cutting through the crowd with either a zigzag or a forceful shove at a tumbling by-stander. But the gray-haired man was fast for his age, surprisingly much faster Owen Gibson. He did not halt when an obstacle stood in his way in the form of a shaken or livid passerby but merely dodged and sprinted onwards without hesitation.

Gibson huffed and puffed from behind but did his best to keep up.

/"Alliance agents! Move! Move!"/ Walker yelled. One obstacle had surely stood in his and Floros' way.

A disadvantage for them. An advantage for the target, nearing the docking bays. The suspect incredibly darted past security before the two men guarding realized one managed to slip pass through but their notice soon went to the duo holding guns.

"Stop! Alliance security!"

"Alliance agents! Now get out of the way!" the gray-haired man snapped with a flash of his badge, making the stunned guards hop aside.

He cursed under his breath. They have lost valuable time by several seconds.

The two agents persuaded, evading today's arrivals of humans, asari, salarians and turians. That was said the same for their suspect, much further deep in the departure area. The gray-haired leader managed to get a small glimpse of their runaway, entering No. 83 Bay. Only halfway across the hall were they joined by Walker and Floros.

The old man arrived at the bay first, only to succumb to defeat as he gritted his teeth. His younger associates caught up a second later.

The agents watched as a passenger starship had already undocked itself out of the bay and was already out into space. Their suspect was gone, aboard the ship and in a matter of seconds beyond Arcturus Station's mass relay.

"We need to notify the tower that they have a criminal onboard!" Sofia Floros suggested.

"It'd be too late by then. Where's that ship heading?" the gray-haired man demanded.

Gibson mentally suppressed the burning pain in his lungs and operated on his Omni-tool. "Um, the destination is to the Citadel."

"What now, Boss? Should we call for a ship and go after him?" Cole Walker asked.

No answer.

"Boss?" he called.

All three looked over their shoulders and found their team leader gone. Floros was the first to spot him racing to another passenger ship – much smaller than the first – ready to take off.

"He isn't doing what I think he's–?"

Walker and Floros glanced at each other. They both knew the answer to Walker's question. Their boss had an idea and it was a crazy one. Without a second spared, they ran again towards the starship. Gibson slugged his shoulders and moaned tiredly to see the chase was far from over. Nonetheless, he too ran.

They were indeed right about one thing. The idea was crazy but solid.

The old agent slipped into the airlock before the small ship's door shut close. However, his sudden appearance into the passenger ship startled two asari stewardesses.

"Argh!" one of them screamed at the sight of the pistol.

"Call security–!"

"Alliance special agent," the old man declared, again flashing his badge to calm them down. "Is this vessel going to the Citadel?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, it is," the stewardess replied.

"Take me to your captain. A fugitive is on the run and I need to get there as soon as possible!"

"R-Right! Follow me."

As she showed the agent to the cockpit, the final arrangements were made and the heavy locks outside detached themselves from the ship. Like the first, the vessel slowly drove its way backwards from the bay, much to the trio's dismay.

"Boss!" Walker yelled, still running despite the fact that he and his team members would soon reach the end of the docking bay.

It was already too late. The ship had sealed its door airtight, undocked itself and soared to the outsized exit of the docks where space greeted it openly.

"BOSS!"

The ship's engines had long deafened Walker's shouts before it disappeared into the starry atmosphere. Finally, there were no loud noises in the bay. Only the sound of heavy breathing from the three agents while they stared into space and the mechanical buzz they could hear on their earwigs a minute later. Contact between them was now improbable for short-range connection.

Their boss had already left the star system.

"The director isn't going to like this," uttered Walker.

A frustrated frown was all Floros could give to the senior agent at the remark. She glared at him with only two words to jeer.

"You think?"

Author's Note: My first ME fanfic and a prelude to another in my head. But for now, I'm starting with this one as a challenge to a question of mine. And that, you shall learn what later in this fic. Expect a lot of action and thriller in this one, especially something you all would least expect. Sadly, no romance until probably the second fanfic.

In addition, I like to dedicate this prologue and the next few to a very good friend and writer, J. for not only helping me on a few bumpy parts but being supportive. And I'd also like you all to read and review her ME fanfic too, "Uncharted".

Now then, please go click on "Review this chapter" and review while I attend to finish the next chapter in a couple of hours or a whole day. :D

Tecs: Slang for Alliance agents & cops