Criminal
The idea for this story came to me while playing Mass Effect 2 (durr durr, what a coincidence) and I decided to write a story featuring original characters but starring in the fantastic world of Mass Effect. Reviews are welcome, because I'm only a hobby writer and not a superstar like other people on this website.
I don't own or claim to own Mass Effect 1, 2 or any part of it.
My name is Meira Etta. I'm a human, 30 years old, was born on the 3rd of November and have been married to a Turian soldier of the Blue Suns for close to 5 years now. I first met Kol Etta on Omega, when I was working for Harrot as a part timer. The job sucked but without it, I wouldn't have met that delicious specimen I call 'husband.' Kol is still a member of the Blue Suns but prefers operations closer to home now.
People seem to enjoy asking me how I ended up with a Turian for a life partner. I don't think it's a really unusual concept but apparently others do. Never mind the big cross species orgies Omega has going on (not literally but you get the point!) So here's my- no, our story.
I'll describe myself to you now, to save doing it later on. I'm about five foot three and am pretty average in every department. An average build with modest features, a reasonably cute face (I guess) and the most brilliant orange hair I keep in what I believe is called a 'pixie cut.' My eyes are a dark blue and not all that outstanding. No different to any other blue eyes you'd see around. I also have a couple of freckles across my nose but that's not really important, haha.
But no more about me, I want to share our story with you.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
I moaned, driven from blissful sleep by the screeching of my alarm. Rubbing my eyes wearily, I sat up in bed and blinked owlishly at the room.
Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, living room.
Yep, my luxurious one room apartment sure was special. Not.
I was living in the slums of Omega, crammed into a sardine tin for an apartment, trying to make my fortune. So far the plan wasn't going so well. I had been employed by a local merchant who went by the name of Harrot, a big ol' Elcor bastard who took delight in threatening his fellow merchants and blackmailing his employees.
Oh, wait – did I say employees?
I meant 'employee.' I'm the only one stupid enough to work for Harrot but I need the credits. It's worth suffering through the idiots and psychos that show up on a regular basis. Like those Vorcha. Yuck.
To be honest, I was lucky enough to even have a job with Harrot. It took a substantial amount of begging, whining and pleading with him to even get my little part time job I have now.
I work for half a day, every day. That might not be what you consider 'part time' but it is on my planet and it pays the rent (and protection fees).
Enough of this story telling shit, I've got to get to work.
I rolled out of bed, ending up on the floor in a tangled mess due to the fact that my blanket had wound itself around my ankle.
"Ugh, graceful," I mumbled, picking my face up from the cool floor.
Gathering my feet and hands underneath me, I shoved myself onto my feet and almost toppled back over onto the bed, the blanket determined to bring me down again.
"Raaaarr!" I yelled in frustration, kicking my legs and hurling the blanket across the room. I'm sure my neighbours think I'm a head case but that's alright – they're a cranky Batarian and an elderly couple so nobody cares what they think.
Planting my hands on my hips, I inhaled deeply.
"Let's get this show on the road."