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Chapter 1
Multiple shots are fired from the pistol… the back-kick of the untrained, lethal weapon in my hands unbalances me, and I'm unprepared for the talons swooping through the air, and they make contact with my face.
I wake up, and my scars are burning like they were on fire. I touch the two lines going down the top of my forehead, over my eyes and down onto my right cheek. That's one of the problems of being a biotic; the constant energy flowing through your body, heightening all your senses, which is completely uncontrollable for me when I'm asleep, the cells in my body becoming mutated and ballistic.
I take in a deep breath through my nose and slowly release it through my parted lips. The blue highlight emanating from my skin slowly disappears.
Then, I am suddenly aware of my bed-mate. No one I really know, or care to know, just some guy that I met yesterday at Afterlife who was attractive enough to be my escort. I've repeated this time over again, and it's become a habit, but you're less likely to get mugged by an old turian with the hots for human girls when you have a man with you.
Not that I couldn't handle now, but it is difficult to use my biotics in my dancer's outfit.
Yes, I'm a stripper at Afterlife. As my cover job, at least. My real job is a body-guard for Aria. I knew from the moment that I got on Omega that I had to get on her good side. Luckily for me she likes girls with scars, tangible or not, and a lust for vengeance. It also seemed that she like to see a girl, actually, scratch that, a person who can 'actually get things done.' I guess her Turians and Batarians were less than up to her standards.
The brunette beside me shifts, starting to wake up, and I'm quick to tell him to get the hell out. He gets up sluggishly and gathers his clothes, but he's grumpy and reluctant to leave.
Suddenly, as the door slides and locks behind him, I have the urge to take a shower, so I head into my bathroom. While I'm in the shower I turn on my radio, setting it to a local news station.
"-the turian vigilante 'Archangel' has been more active lately, stopping several red sand dealings and high class muggings, and has, as of yet, been off the radar of several local gangs, and our own writers and reporters as well.
"Section 42B could expect asteroid collisions, but none are expected to breach the barriers of-" And I shut it off.
Archangel…
The so-called turian savior of the weak people of Omega.
What a joke.
I shake the person out of my head and get dressed.
Sky cars race overhead, news casts repeat the daily broadcasts, while Vorcha hide in the nooks and crannies of the street, hissing insults towards everyone who passes by.
A batarian salesman is talking fastidiously to a well-armored female human, even for Omega. She's accompanied by a bald human female with a plethora of tattoos and a salarian I recognize; Mordin Solus, who ran a clinic just nearby.
Though I'm somewhat curious, I keep walking. I'm meeting up with some friends for lunch at a nearby restaurant.
I walk inside the small café, and see them already sitting down at a table in front of the bar. Alfred Jones and Asao Kishimoto, my closest friends.
Alfred has black, shiny hair and his eyes are a deep, luminous blue, while Asao has short, dark-brown hair and big brown eyes. They wave at me and I walk over and sit down.
They're smiling at me, more of an evil smirk, and I'm thoroughly annoyed.
"You came to the club yesterday, didn't you?" I ask, knowing that they did.
"Alfred was tempted to ask for a lap dance, but I told him to refrain from it if he wanted to leave with his spine intact." Asao said, chuckling heartily as he said it.
"What can I say, you're a good dancer." Alfred responds, shaking head and shrugging his shoulders.
"That's not going to make our friendship awkward at all." I say sarcastically, glaring up at him through my fingers.
"Oh well, it was going to happen sooner or later. We're men and we're curious that our friend is a stripper. "Asao says calmly.
I start to correct him, telling him that my suit never comes off, when something smashes through the window and rolls onto the floor, emitting a smoke screen.
I flip the table over as someone busts in through the door. My pistol unfolds as I duck behind the now sideways table. I carefully and slowly look around the edge, and a shot is fired at me. I duck back behind and look over to my left. Asao is holding his own pistol, and Alfred makes up a combat drone to my left. This sort of thing isn't too uncommon on Omega.
I look over to my right just as the bartender is shot down behind the bar. I create one of my biotic barriers and roll behind the bar. The bartender is turian, but his shotgun wound is blatant and I use some medi-gel to seal it, but he can't get up.
As I look up over the counter, a krogan slams into the table, knocking Asao over. Alfred rolls out of the way, but Asao isn't so lucky. The krogan is poised over him, his shotgun pointed directly over Asao's face, point-blank.
I duck and shut my eyes tightly, but I hear the shot fired, loud and clear as it echoes through my head.
I can't help but picture it even though I don't catch a second of it.
Quickly, my biotics flare up, rage overpowering rational thought.
Everything blurs, but I can make out the bodies flying through the air, bones cracking on impact with whatever they hit, whether it's the walls, other bodies, or the random tables thrown about.
Even though my rage gives me extra strength, the krogan brings me down.
I'm in the same position as Asao, the krogan leaning over me, finger just itching to pull the trigger. My eyes glare up at him, begging him to pull the goddamn thing already, but my mind shouts 'Don't want to die here!'
A shot is fired, but instead of my skin being ripped apart, the krogan forehead is blown through with a single bullet, blood and some internal organs flying out along with the bullet.
The krogan falls on top of me, heavy, but nothing my biotics can't throw off.
As he lands beside me, I look up to see a figure in the doorway.
It's just like one of the old movies that I used to watch on Friday nights at the local rec-center on Earth when I was a kid.
The light shines in through the door, and all I can make out is a silhouette holding a sniper-rifle.
He steps forward, shooting the last thug standing with a one-handed shot. He picks his way around and over the bodies lying on the floor, and heads towards me. Alfred hurriedly makes his way over to me, pointing one of the thugs' shotguns at the newcomer. When he gets to me he squats down, not taking his eyes of the now obvious turian newcomer. The turian holds his hands up in the air as a sign of peace, and Alfred lets some of his guard down.
He looks down at me and asks,
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I reply, using his hand to help myself up. "Just a few bruises. Where's Asao?"
"He's…" Alfred starts, but he trails off and looks over his shoulder to a body whose face is utterly disfigured, lying in a pool of blood. Completely still.
I attempt to hold back my tears, and it's all I can do not to bawl out crying.
"Who're you?" Alfred asks the turian, his voiced filled with miss-fired anger.
"Most people call me 'Archangel.'" He responds. "You'll have to excuse me for not giving my real name out publicly. But I should get going, if you're alright. Goodbye." And he steps through the door, running down into the alley.
I dust myself off as I get up.
Grin and bear it.
Asao isn't going to get up.
Grin and bear it.
Grin… I attempt a smile as I take the phrase literally.
But it's hard smiling with tears running down your face.