An explosion rumbled through my ears. Deep and throbbing, unyielding. A pulse. My own. I look out upon my subject and feel...unsure. This is to be my first job - and I worry that I may not experienced enough to guarantee a clean kill. Death may be my calling, but suffering is not my purpose.

I am moments from becoming the assassin I am meant to be.

I am Thane Krios.

The drell is a businessman. He is vying for the merger of a major shipping company with his own, and my hanar masters wish otherwise. In this regard, I am but an instrument of their will, their weapon of choice. With a secure vantage point a mere 100 meters away, and only separated by a simple pane of glass, it would be easy to dispose of Vallare from a distance. Yet, I feel the need to be close, to ask Kalihira to grant his soul a safe passage across the sea as the soul leaves the body to continue on its eternal journey.

I do as I have been trained. I move silently, staying in the shadows. My 12 year old body is small enough to hide behind the smallest of cover as well as being inconsequential enough that the beings around me pay me no heed. I am "drala'Ta," the ignored, and I will use this to my advantage.

I spent time meditating over my purpose before setting out this morning, building my body up for what was to come, praying to the Lord of Hunters for guidance and protection. I am physically, mentally, and biotically prepared for the challenge of today. I pause and step to the side to access my perfect memory.

A silent movement puts me just behind my target. Seize the ridge spine near the top of the head. Leverage gained - pull back. My sparring partner gasps in surprise. Tallaien is suddenly made aware of my presence. Sweat in my palms. In my right hand, the flare of biotics. The sweat evaporates in a flash as the hand flies forward. Blue energy dissipates with the impact at the base of the neck.

Tallaien falls, senseless.

From my instructor - a nod of approval.

My eyes take a moment to refocus on the world around me and I pause to bring my breath back to a controlled state. Yes, this will be highly effective and should ensure a quick death. The lack of body guards inside the office will allow for adequate time. The skylight above Vallare that I loosened earlier in the day will provide an excellent escape route. I will be gone before the guards outside realize what has happened.

I once again glimpse through the glass at my target. An aging drell whose ambitions exceed his capabilities. He is pacing behind his desk rubbing the top of his head. Perhaps in an extranet conversation, or taking voice notes - it is inconsequential. One of his head spines is chipped, according to his dossier, this was a result of a hovercar crash when he was young - just a few years older than I am now. His once bright scales are now dull and lined with an ash color, but his broad eyes are still sharp and aggressive, the sign of a still-active mind.

Revealing myself from amongst the shadows I signal a homeless man that I had paid hours earlier, I begin to close. The beggar is a human. He is one of many of the less fortunate who come to this area in an attempt to part the wealthy with their pocket change. His simple, unprotected, and seemingly fragile skin glistened with the oils and grime of dozens of garbage heaps as he approached the guards while yelling. The batarian guards have, at least, the basics of professionalism - as I noticed a week ago when I scouted my mark's frequented locations. On cue, they raise assault rifles and begin to shout warnings at the human, as he approaches with his raving nonsense.

Seizing the advantage of their momentary distraction, I dart into a blind spot - ducking behind a large potted plant and vaulting up to grip the ledge of the wall behind it. Moving carefully along it - above them, now - I go unnoticed as I creep closer to the office. I take a moment to watch the beggar and the guards argue heatedly - all attention is on them. I bend down, grasp the ledge and carefully drop down. Hurriedly I slip, unnoticed, to the door. Raising my hand, I jam my omni-tool against the lock and the lock releases with a small click, unheard over the angry shouts of the guards.

I open the door.

I steal into the office, sticking to the shadows. "Shadows are the currents you shall swim through," my instructors always told me - and this form of swimming came naturally for me. The hanar can function on land, but at sea they are the masters of their world. I find the same to hold true with myself and the darkness. Encompassed by the gloom I find peace. In the shadows, I am home.

Inside of Vallare's office I am once again struck with the uncertainty of proving my ability. Will the death be clean, if the death is not clean are my other options still open, should I be injured, will I still be able to cross the roofs to my extraction point. So many questions, but only one question mattered, is this body ready to take a life? This body is young, and while fit, the older male is almost twice my size. I remind myself that I have my biotics and my training to help level the playing field, and that all the research I had gathered showed that while large, the only fighting the businessman ever did was with words or money.

Then, there he was, pacing just in front of me, speaking to someone on his datapad. He turns away from me. Years of training take over and all doubts are washed away. I act.

Rushing forward out of the shadows, I grab the older Drell by the top of his head between the head spines, yanking back as I had practiced. The older male gasps and drops the datapad. As the datapad falls my right hand flashes blue and drives into the back of the politician's arched neck. The biotic push was meant to give my still developing muscles the means to swiftly break the neck for a quick and silent kill. However, I was unsure about how much help I needed.

The over-powered biotic Push drove the aging drell into the roof with a sickening crunch, and he fell to the floor to lie dead at my feet.

I look down at the body in amazement. Joints turned at wrong angles. The flesh scales around the base of his skull have been ripped away. Blood begins to pool around a head that is twisted at an unnatural angle. I allow myself the first small smile of the evening. The kill was good. Quick, painless - perhaps a little loud - but a clean kill. I close my eyes as pride washes over me. I am now who I have been training to be since my parents gave me to the Hanar six years ago. I have served the saviors of my people and have begun to repay the debt owed to them.

My moment of self-satisfaction - an atypical lack of focus - nearly costs me my life. It is a lesson I never failed to remember, in the years to come.

The pain of glass striking my face jolts me out of my reverie. Another thud and sparks shoot off the desk near me and I realize that I am being shot at. The guards heard Vallare hit the ceiling and have turned and are firing at me through the glass. Flinching, I leap for the sky-light and as I grab the edge, it comes off just as I planned. A bullet grazes my thigh as I scramble to the roof. I painfully pull my legs up out of harms way and glimpse down at the cooling body and close my eyes, prayers must not be sacrificed. I can hear the guards making their way through the door. Taking as much time as I dare, I briefly wish Vallare's spirit safe travels to the sea.

I open my eyes, turn away, and I run. A child no more, and never again.

I am a killer.