We are the angry and the desperate,
The hungry, and the cold,
We are the ones who kept quiet,
And always did what we were told.
But we've been sweating while you slept so calm,
In the safety of your home.
We've been pulling out the nails that hold up
Everything you've known. - Prayer of the Refugee by Rise Against

"Move it, 9107, we need to get this red sand to the Volus or there'll be no pay for you!"

The blonde haired teenager sighed before putting all her weight into the overloaded trolley and pushing it harder. The metal mass shrieked noisily along the metal back alley while she muttered expletives as she trundled along. The ear piece conveyed Tiberius's consistent demands. Though she put all her energy into it, it scraped the path making her teeth ache with the noise and all her effort didn't seem to move it very far.

"Stupid trolley. I...Need...The...Pay!"

The others had been clever and had done their shift earlier in the day, leaving them plenty of time to get the job done. She'd never had such a luxury. Performing the extra work Tiberius always seemed to set her and the normal shift for the same amount of pay as everyone else was starting to grate on her a bit. Add that to her missing father, distraught mother and confused 9 year old brother who couldn't understand his father was never coming back. Mother chased after her vivid daydreams as if they were the only life she had left, giggling and flirting with apparitions of her dead husband, completely ignoring the existence of her two children.

9107 had done what she had to. The money hadn't kept coming in, just being spent on food, clothes, even rent in the lowest areas of London was nearly too expensive. Plus the `protection money` required by the local gangs. She'd done what she had to. She'd immediately dropped out of school, at the age of 13, to join with Tiberius's gang: The Black Lillies. Though the name may not sound ominous, they were well known. Assassinations, drug dealing, torture, anything was acceptable, as long as there was profit in it. Though they were a world wide group, their base was situated in London's slums, not 5 minuets from where she lived. There was no alternative. No need of money, no past information required, no names, all you needed was the guts to kill. She had them, but so far she'd had no need of them. Killing had never been required, though the pistol pressed firmly against her hip, untouched but fully loaded.

Little Brendon had known nothing. She had made excuses and he'd lightly accepted them. She was always adamant her little brother would know nothing about what she could be held accountable for. He excelled at school, making friends daily and every girl in the playground running after him. He was adorable, with his uncut crop of blonde hair and sweet blue eyes, she couldn't bare to watch him starve to death. No, the alternative was too much, she would not loose her Little Brendon.

There was a cost. There was always a cost. Her conscience had little effect on her any longer. Killing was the best option nowadays where it was once unacceptable. The tattoo also made life difficult. It was required for all members, no matter their age, to receive a tattoo of a black lilly at the top of their left shoulder with their number below it. Names were not permitted, they were a liability, she was 9107. She was allowed no other title. To the extent that, after five years of service, she'd long since forgotten her real name. She was `sister` to Brendon and to her workmates she was 9107. She only knew her surname thanks to Little Brendon and the memorials in the news. She wondered weather Captain Lois Shepard was proud of his little girl now. Doing what was necessary, just as he taught her. Even if it cost her everything.

With one last shove of effort, she successfully moved the trolley half an inch. She was by no means weak but she'd had load all 5 rounds on to one trolley to get it done in time. She'd never expected the others had poured most of their own loads onto hers until it was basically immobile.

"Stupid trolley. Just move..." she pleaded with the inanimate object, " Just move...just move." Giving up, she rested her forehead against the cold bar that she'd been pushing on. Normally, it was a 30 minuet shove per trolley with one load. Right now she had one trolley with over 5 loads on it and 40 minuets to get it to the buyer before Tiberius's thugs murdered her family slowly for nor fulfilling her task. It was already dark and sweat beaded at the back of her neck. It was not supposed to be this hot in England. It wasn't how it worked. She could normally do this, it was a breeze for someone with her physical capability. But today, somehow, she couldn't do this. Her amazing little brother would be the cost of this failure. She was almost certain. That was the game she played on a daily bases. This was the first time she knew she would loose.

Suddenly, her ears were alerted to the sound of approaching footsteps. She couldn't move the trolley full of illegal red sand into the shadows at the sides of the alley and she couldn't ditch the load and save her own skin. There was only one remaining option. She reached for the pistol at her side, pulling it effortlessly from its holster and spinning to face the intruder.

"Woah! Slow down there Jazzy!"

A relived breath escaped her as she recognised the friendly tone and the annoying clink of a light trolley. 1330 loomed over her. He was tall and muscular, even for a Turian. They'd been partners in crime more times than she could count. He was nearly a friend. Nearly. Friend would imply she completely trusted him. He smiled through the darkness of his black hoodie, immediately stuffing his hands in his pockets the second he could. How he could wear something as bulky as that in this heat, she didn't know.

"Jazzy?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him. She was 9107, not `Jazzy`.

"It's suits you. Numbers are boring, no one wants to be a number. It's like your style. You're Jazzy, in a way. Your spontaneous and completely unpredictable."

She just stared at him, looking through him rather than completely at him. Jazzy worked. It felt light and useless. A title that wasn't a number but wasn't quite a name. She could work with Jazzy, and it was revenge for Tiberius's constant nagging. She wasn't playing by his rules. Not for now anyway. Without a word more, he lent over to her trolley and effortlessly scooped up two bags of red sand and dropped them onto his.

"What does that make you? A life saver?" she joked, staring open mouthed at the kind act. She pushed her trolley which silently glided over the meal panels. She smiled with feline satisfaction. He stared at her for a moment before deciding:

"Robb. I've always liked that name." he mused. He'd been a Lilly for longer than she had, but was the same age. He'd long since given up any life he might have lead, and his name. She pushed the trolley forward again, just to check the first time wasn't a fluke.

"Come on, we'd better get this to the Volus. I want my money."

He laughed at this in his normal low chuckle.

"That's all you want, your bloody money!" He shook his head at her. "Go on ahead, my wheel's jammed with the weight."

He made no attempt to prove the malfunction but she never questioned him. She was too busy running along with her cargo, dropping it off at the point with 2 minuets to spare. The Lilly who stood there reluctantly handed over her payment and she walked home, not questioning a single event that had occurred that night, as she was too busy counting her payment.

She wandered through the winding mass of metal alleyways between the looming buildings, her payment safely stuffed into the pocket of her jeans. It was easily a half hour walk, so she enjoyed the hurried whizzing of the shuttles that zoomed miles above her. She'd always wanted to drive one. The shadows seemed to morph in the darkness, and as she drew closer light blared from the end of the alley.

"No...no...no...No! No!"

The closer she got the more smoke burned her eyelids and nostrils. When she turned the corner she was finally faced with it. Fire curled from the windows of her bottom floor flat which she shared with her family. The smoke curled from the walls, creating a smell that was suffocating. Screams emanated from the upper floors from the poor, innocent people that were trapped.

Arms secured her from behind and she felt the pistol leave its holster.

"Right, 9107. Let's talk treachery."

She recognised the voice immediately. It was the voice through the headpiece. The consistent demand. Tiberius, the leader of the Black Lilies. Also a Turian, he wore armour that was exclusively black and carried the best looking sniper rifle she'd ever seen. If she had any ability to steal, that would be first on her list.

"Treachery? I am no traitor."

The barrel of the pistol connected with her face before she could breath, sending blood trickling down her bottom lip.

"Liar. Where is the last of my red sand?" he said calmly as she wriggled against the two men holding her.

"I just delivered it, it's with the Volus now!"

The barrel hit her face again, this time with more force and the men twisted her arms further up her back.

"No it's not. I got back from discussing with him just now. There are three bags missing. Your load."

She didn't know what to say. Her home, most likely with her family still inside, was being burnt down before her eyes. She wanted to beg him. To tell him that he'd tell him everything if she could just go and rescue her family. She knew however, they were lost if they hadn't got out by now.

"SISTER!" came a shout from behind Tiberius. She recognised the infantile voice immediately and dread filled her. Two more lilies ran out and secured Brendon. She watched his kick and squirm, to no avail. Then it stuck her. Three bags.

"Robb has them!" she nearly screamed, "1330 has them. I couldn't move the trolley so he took some on his! He has them, let him go!"

Tiberius did not look impressed with her answer. He paced between her and her brother, only allowing her glimpses of his terrified face, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Find 1330, he has them... but this one conspired with him." he crouched down to meet her eye level, "Didn't you."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. All she could do was panic and struggle. She had to protect Brendon.

"No! I didn't, I promise! I didn't know! Don't hurt anyone!"

Tiberius laughed in her face, spit spraying on her face. The firelight reflected off everything, giving Tiberius's face an ominous, evil haze.

"So innocent. So frightened of death." he mused. He stood up straight, looking around at his men. He never showed compromise but maybe this once? They'd always worked well together. It took all her strength for her to realise she wasn't getting out of this.

"Barricade the door." he ordered. The ones trapped heard this and several screamed. One or two of them jumped from the roofs, only for their necks to snap on the metal floor. Brendon looked away, his face blackened with smoke. Tiberius waltzed up to him, pinching his chubby face between his talons and examined his face.

"This one would sell for a good hundred on the Slave Market..." he mused, twisting his pretty little face from side to side. She felt like screaming. They would not take Little Brendon. She would protect him. She would keep him fed, well educated and he'd grow up to marry a beautiful woman and live a type of life she never could.

"No! Please! He didn't do anything! Please!" she begged, still trying to escape the two held her. Tiberius knelt down to come face to face with her. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek , their faces nearly touching.

"Never show mercy."

He then stood up and followed a screaming Brendon onto a shuttle, bringing the two who held her with him. It was his first mistake. She ran at the shuttle, stealing the pistol from the guard she passed and pulled the trigger.

Tiberius stopped and looked at her before staring at the shuttle that had taken off without him. She didn't stop, turning on her toes to shoot the two guards that had previously restrained her. The cold steel felt good finally resting in her hand. Tiberius had long since collapsed, clutching the wound in the back of his neck. Not bad for a first shot. She took the Sniper Rifle she'd wanted so much and all the money the three of them had on them before looking back at the fire. Surrounding apartments were catching fire and people of all races were pouring into the narrow alley, just to take a look. She considered briefly searching for survivors in the houses, but instantly decided against it. She stared at her house at the end of the row, watching until the smoke poured into her eyes and turned the irises as dark as they could go. There was no emotion left in her by the time she walked away. She had nothing left to loose.

Two days later, she walked through the door of a shiny metal building, glaring at the woman who sat at a desk.

"Alliance Recruiting agency. Do you wish to sign up?" she said in a tone that was to cheery. She nodded at the ginger woman, glaring at her and enjoying how she squirmed awkwardly under her judging gaze.

"Right. May I ask your name?" the woman inquired. It was a simple question, but it only took her a moment to think about it. It was her choice. She wanted something simple, something that wasn't a number but wasn't quite a name.

"Jaz. My name is Jaz Shepard."

"Commander? Shepard?"

She was quickly snapped from the memory and she found herself staring at the Normandy core through the window in Life Support. The sphere hummed and throbbed, glowing with blue electric. She turned away from the view to be faced with a very concerned looking Drell. Thane looked at her in that way he often did, examining her very soul. She shied away from his gaze, heading toward the door discreetly. The memory had put her on edge and she wanted time alone in her cabin.

"Siha, they say Humans have a Drell's perfect memory, but only in the worst moments in their lives. Only when they hit the absolute bottom." he said with his usual cold confidence. Shepard ran a hand through her hair, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Insomnia was a bitch.

"I can well believe it." she murmured, unable to turn her back on her Drell.

"Siha, I've been to the lowest of the low. Is that what you just relived? Please, tell me. I can help you, like you have so often done for me."

His words cocooned her like a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day but she fought them. Those who cared for her ended up dead, burned alive in that cursed fire which followed her where ever she went. She'd become the fire that night.

"That's...That's none of your concern."

Her words came out harsher than intended but it didn't even seem to phase Thane. He walked up to her, taking her hands in his own gently.

"Jaz, you are not made of fire, you can't burn me."

She laughed at the irony, but it was a brief chuckle, not even worthy of merit.

"Thane...My Thane." she muttered, cupping his cheek with her hand and running her thumb over his cheekbone. "I am fire."