Nos Astra, Illium

2184

My name is Madigan, and I work for Cerberus.

They always tell you that Illium is like Vegas back on Earth: Full of opportunity and promise. In reality, Illium is more corrupt than any other planet I've been to, and I've been around. Illium just hides its menace a little better under a curtain of charm, so that you don't want to risk looking under it and finding out what kind of place you're in.

They also tell you that Nos Astra is a benchmark city that all species should take note of. They never tell you about the Outskirts of the city.

Being in the crime-infested Outskirts makes you want to look for the Afterlife club, because anyone on Omega would be at home there.

The alleys are twisted and winding, with the streets crumbling under constant use and no maintenance.

The busted windows and rotting doorways in alleys are home to those not fortunate enough to be born in a place that they could prosper in. They aren't criminals. Not in a world of criminals.

They were all looking at a man standing on the street corner, under a dim city light. They were looking at the man in a dark trench coat and silver tie, sizing him up for a quick heist. They were all looking at me.

I could see their eyes glowing in the dark, even through the wind and rain there were pairs and quartets of eyes staring at me.

I held their stares, all of their stares.

My hand reached down and unbuttoned the front of my jacket, just enough for them to see my Hand Canon tucked under my armpit.

Funny how almost all of them went away after they realized that I was armed. There were only a few who stuck around, waiting to see if one of them was crazy enough or desperate enough to take a swing at me. But they valued their lives too much to try anything.

I quickly buttoned up my jacket, trying to stop the cold from biting my chest. It was too cold here.

Where was he?

I had been ordered to wait here, right here, for Pel and two more troopers to contain a prisoner by the docks. That was over two hours ago.

Pel was another agent, a sociopath if I ever knew one. A comedian too.

Pel was the worst type of comedian, one that thought that he was funny by making everyone else's lives miserable.

And that wasn't very funny.

Not in Nos Astra, not in this weather. Anywhere but here.

Finally he showed up.

He was rolling in an average car, a repurposed cab with the two other men just like he promised.

"Get in," he told me like I was supposed to do anything else.

"So, did you make any new friends along the way, Madigan?" he was laughing from inside his heated car at me, the sucker who had believed that his antics would give me a break.

"Just your mother, Pel. We had a nice little visit while I was waiting, thank you." I climbed into the car just as the two other goons started laughing.

"And they say I'm the comedian around here," he smiled as he rounded the corner, speeding down the crooked streets.

"So what have we got, gentlemen?" I leaned closer to the two other Agents in the backseat.

"We caught a break. An Alliance Operative," Grayson, another agent, told me. I liked Grayson a lot better than Pel, even though I was pretty sure he had a Red Sand addiction.

Grayson was more experienced, more cool under fire. And for a guy who was a junkie to be more likable than Pel meant something.

"Where is he?" I asked. The Alliance had been sticking its nose in our business a lot lately, and sooner or later they had to pay for it.

"She, actually. Fiesty little thing, too," Pel commented from the driver's seat.

"We picked her up a few hours ago. She was looking around one of our warehouses when security apprehended her during her escape," Grayson informed me. Straight to business.

"Where are you holding her? Did we lose any men?"

"She's still at the warehouse. She killed seven of the twelve guards before one of them got a shot off."

Okay. So there was a situation to be dealt with.

"What are we gonna do with her?" I asked Grayson.

Pel answered for him. "There's a new interrogation method I wanted to try out. Zamochit it's called. "The Breaking of the Bones." The Russians came up with it-"

"Shut up, Pel," Grayson silenced him. "We'll most likely have Pel get some information out of her before giving her back to Anderson and Hackett… in a body bag."

My eyes widened. "Really, Grayson? Do we need to kill some girl just to get a point across?"

I worked for Cerberus full time, but I wasn't into killing prisoners, especially women. Killing like that seemed too… cowardly for me.

"Ohhhhh, I am gonna have such a good time when we get back to base," Pel tapped a drum beat on the steering wheel.

Yeah, that moron is an interrogation specialist. A good one, too.

But I didn't like it when he tortured just for the sake of hurting somebody. It didn't seem right.

But who am I to lecture people about right and wrong?

"Yeah, her name is Ashley Williams, an Ops Chief I think. She's a fighter," Grayson said, nodding.

"I think I heard of her back when I was in the Alliance," I told him. Poor girl. She was still paying for her grandfather's mistakes, and now she was going to pay for Anderson's mistake to send her here alone.

It didn't seem fair.

"That's great. You two should have lots to talk about," Pel said as he pulled into the warehouse. "I don't think she has a boyfriend either, so do you think you could put in a good work for me?"

One day I was gonna break his freaking jaw, so he would just shut up.

I just didn't know it would be so soon.