The Spectre office was always deserted. Shepard had been starting to think that she was the only Spectre left before Jondam Bau had shown up. The office's emptiness would be a plus now, however. The last thing they needed was a bunch of gawkers.

"You're sure you want to do this, James?"

The man bounced a little on the balls of his feet, a brief grin tugging at his lips. "Pretty much wanted to do this since I met you."

"It's going to be painful. You're bound to break something… or several somethings."

"I'm ready for it."

"If you insist…"

Shepard handed Connie, the Claymore shotgun she had recovered from the Collector vessel, to the Lieutenant and brought up a target halfway down the firing range.

"Full armor and shields really necessary?" James asked, testing the weight of the gun.

"If you enjoy having both arms attached to your body, yes," Shepard replied. "The only reason I can fire that bitch without losing a limb is because Cerberus pumped me full of cybernetics."

Vega whistled appreciatively and took aim. Teeth gritted, he squeezed the trigger and the shotgun went off with the loudest BANG his ears had ever encountered. It was hard to describe what it was like when your shields went down. It was almost like… the air had suddenly turned solid and you just walked right into it. James stumbled backward as white hot pain seared up both his arms.

Next thing he knew, he was laying on his back on the cold floor with Shepard leaning over him. Tears streamed from his eyes and it felt like his arms had no bones left in them at all – only pain.

"Worth it," he croaked, "totally worth it."

The Commander shook her head, laughing a bit, and she hunkered down next to James. She carefully removed his gauntlets, brought up her omni-tool, and began applying medi-gel to each of his arms.

"Take a deep breath, Lieutenant. Tell me if you feel pain anywhere else."

Vega inhaled deeply. Nothing pained or pinched, he felt only the tingling numbness in his healing arms.

"Good to go, Commander," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Shepard nodded and holstered the Claymore. She held out her hand and James took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He let out a boyish sort of laugh when he saw that the target had basically been reduced to a pile of ash on the floor. There was only a small scrap of the paper target still hanging up.

"That is one hell of a gun, Commander," he said.

"Don't I know it," Shepard replied. "This gun has saved my skin on more than one occasion."

"You have to let me fire it again… once I make sure both my arms are really still there."

Shepard laughed, "You got it."