Disclaimer: If I owned Thane Krios or anything from Mass Effect, things would not have happened the way they did. But I don't, so they happened anyway.
The audible crack in the air caused Shepard to incline her stance instinctively as a biotically propelled crate flew past where she knelt, narrowly missing her. She met Kasumi's partially concealed gaze a few feet away. The master thief smirked, and with subtle movements honed by years of practice and effort, discreetly tossed a flash bang grenade into the group of Eclipse mercs.
Shepard heard the cries of shock and pain and promptly decided to take advantage of their momentary incapacitation. She breathed in the heavy sulfuric scent as she followed through with her own biotic singularity, the electrical pulses rippling just underneath her skin. The biotically induced feeling of fire and electricity in her blood, coupled with the heavy adrenaline rush that sustained her throughout the long trek across the bridge, made her pleasantly heady.
Jacob's hoots and hollers from somewhere beside her as he blasted at the dangling mercs floating helplessly through the air made Shepard smile. She caught a glimpse of their forms quickly lighting up in flames from the effects of inferno ammo, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Ahead of her, Kasumi was shooting from behind cover at the frenzied asari commando hurling warps right after another at Shepard's group.
'She's panicking. This won't take very long,' she observed casually.
Shepard bolted for the asari, deflecting another attack with her own hastily summoned biotic energy. The asari stumbled back, clearly shaken. Then she regrouped quickly with a singularity orb aimed right for Shepard. She dove toward a crate on the far left of where the commando stood, narrowly missing the singularity as it whizzed just above her rigid form. The concrete floor scraped against her armored knees as she slowly crawled forward, the dense vibrations in the air from the biotic trail fading away.
Straightening up against the crate, Shepard clenched her left fist, her short nails piercing the calloused skin of her palms as she concentrated on charging up for a powerful offensive attack. The electrical energy of a mass effect field pooled deep within her, and she bode her time by firing off clips at the constantly mobile asari. She caught Jacob out of her peripheral vision, a few feet away perched behind a stack of crates, trying unsuccessfully to lift the asari commando off her feet. Near him, Kasumi fished for more flash bangs, only to grasp at empty space. She met the Commander's eyes, and shrugged half-heartedly, just barely inching away from another biotic attack in time.
"Oh, what a great help you are," Shepard mouthed to the thief from her own cover behind the crates. Kasumi only straightened up briefly, and gave the Commander a mocking salute. Then, she disappeared.
Shepard watched from cover as the cloaked form flickered in and out of visibility, like the static from one of those ancient televisions housed in the museums on Earth, the screen struggling to fix on a proper channel. Then, as the old television would finally show an indication of signal, so did a cloaked Kasumi as she manifested inches behind the asari.
Her red and black form lunged forward, whipping the asari around and simultaneously driving an Omni-tool encased fist into her gut, rendering the woman stunned with damaged shields. Shepard felt the force of the attack from where she stood a few feet away, and finally unleashed the warp she had been charging.
This always seemed to happen. In those few moments, time itself seemed to wind down, until she imagined seeing the electricity lick a trail across her skin like finely lined hair. She would watch the blue and purple sparks emanate from her tightly clenched fist, the effects of pure, chaotic power striking against her own form. In that moment, she would always experience the malignant fear that her own power would devour her from the inside out, like a slow burn lapping at her soul. And she would beg to be engulfed.
She supposed the ancient asari masters deigned the technique as 'warp' for a reason. The commando crumpled to the ground, her body aglow with the effects of the attack.
Shepard repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fists, lightly bouncing on padded soles to shake off the clammy feeling that unleashing a full powered warp always left her with. She felt like she just downed a 20-ounce bottle of Tupari.
Exhaling through clattering teeth, she jogged forward, securing the Phalanx back into its holster on her hip. She gave a quick once-over of their surroundings, making sure there weren't any hidden mercs laying in wait behind the crates. Kasumi nudged the prone form on the ground with a lightly armored foot, nodding at Jacob and the Commander as they approached.
"Unhelpful me, huh?" A corner of the thief's intricately decorated lips lifted.
Shepard's gaze, still dotted by stars in the residue of her biotic power, refocused on the hooded woman. She clapped Kasumi's shoulder, returning a haughty smile of her own. "And look who finished her off."
"Yeah, because hiding behind a crate for the whole fight certainly brought her shields down, at least."
Shepard hummed, adjusting the secondary machine pistol strapped to her back. "Don't act like you don't know a thing or two about hiding and generally being cowardly, Miss Thief."
Kasumi only laughed, before attempting to respond with a biting remark of her own when Jacob tsked from behind the two women.
Shepard looked back at the Cerberus operative who was gesturing to the ornate door, raising his eyebrows at Shepard as if she were an undisciplined Alliance trainee instead of his commanding officer.
"We still got that damned assassin to recruit, remember?"
Kasumi cleared her throat immediately, and turned to Jacob. " 'Course, Jacob. By the way, you were pretty great back there." Shepard thought she heard a slight undertone of shyness in Kasumi's voice, and bit down on the inside of her cheek in an effort to hold back a rising snicker. Sometimes, she was real glad that she didn't have to deal with the general awkwardness of trying to impress a potential paramour.
Faint voices sounded from behind the door. A woman's shrill yelling, and heavy footsteps against a hard floor. The steps didn't have a clear pattern, frantic in their movements.
Shepard squared her shoulders, wiped all evidence of amusement from her features, and pushed past Jacob. "Believe me, Operative," Shepard bit out the title with scathing emphasis. "I am very much aware of the mission."
Fussing with Kasumi simply took her mind off of the more pressing issues that loomed in the depths of her mind. Shepard wanted to find the assassin, and get this night over with. Then she could finally trudge back to her cabin on the Normandy and take a scalding hot shower to burn away the muddled emotions she felt when she watched those salarians get gunned down.
Shepard clenched her fists. She could still hear their screams of crippling agony ringing in her ears, as the mech dogs tore through their skin. The twisting knot that curled deep in her stomach when she passed the dozens of crumpled bodies littered along the marble floors. The utter rage she initially aimed at herself for not being there fast enough to help them.
Then she used that rage to wield shockwaves and powerful biotic throws that sent the Eclipse mercs flying sky-high, falling from the top levels of the tower to their very timely deaths. The memory of their pitiful screams reverberated through her skull, cheering her up a bit.
Although she couldn't touch Nassana Dantius, and she had no idea what to expect from the elusive assassin himself, Shepard only hoped there would be more than enough mercs behind that door to compensate. She needed something to throw.
The shadowed metal walls that enclosed his already narrow surroundings were familiar, even though it was an altogether different setting. Maneuvering through dank air ducts proved to be an unlikely skill of value.
Skirting around in the dark recesses of his mind, memory threatened to overload his awareness with flashing images of time spent on the Citadel those many years ago. His senses were much sharper then.
When no one else would be aware, he would: the light thumping in the ducts above his head, the scratching and cries for food behind the thin walls of the access corridors, their tiny forms huddled against each other in the dank alleys of the Wards. Yes, he would oblige them, in exchange for valuable intel that couldn't be acquired anywhere else.
Sharp voices interrupted his reverie, and he glanced down to observe the scene below. The fading sunset filtered in from the great expanse of the sealed window glass, bathing the room in a hazy auburn glow. He would have thought the setting to be peaceful in an almost surreal way.
Another memory, more recent, intruded upon his awareness. When he had first arrived on Illium those two years ago, he refused the rays of the sun, it's pure luminescence slighting him. Loved ones who drifted in the Oceanic Abyss would never again experience the feeling of the calming heat wash over their skin, so he would abjure from the light on their behalf. He preferred living in the shadows as it was, their cold depths equaling only the darkness residing in his own heart.
So it struck him then, that the sun was seeking him out now, as if wanting to spend these last few moments with him on such a material day. His final mission.
He allowed his mind to drift away on such impetuous musings as he waited for the opportune moment, some part of his awareness still sharply honed on the asari that was only a few feet below him.
Nassana Dantius bellowed orders, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as she paced, but there was a subtle tremor in her voice that only he could detect. The too quick inhalation and shaky exhalation of breath were loud in his ears. The target was in prime position.
They had proved to be a welcome diversion, and to Amonkira was he thankful for the swiftness of his feet, but now was the rightful time for his pursuers to make their grand entrance.
"Do a sweep of the perimeter again," he listened to Nassana say, "and for Goddess sake make sure you-"
The orange indicator on the locked door flashed green just then, and disappeared as the door revolved and lifted open. Through the narrow vents of the duct floor, he peered at the three human intruders that strode in.
The only male, who looked to be all hard intent and cold focus, wore the tell-tale symbol of Cerberus on his uniform. He was tall and had a capable build, and his darker skin tone matched the woman leading the small group. His lips were set in a straight line and he glared holes into the mercs situated on the opposite side of the room. That one seemed to hold more open rancor toward the hired combatants than his companions.
Seemingly hidden by a hood dipped in blood, accented in black, was the petite woman standing a few feet beside the man. She didn't seem as tense as the Cerberus officer; quite the opposite, actually. Her posture indicated boredom, with one gloved hand resting on her hip. However, her fingers brushed lightly against grenade cases. Her oddly painted lips curled into a smirk. Noting the light armor she wore, and along with an easy stance that could fall into a quick offense if necessary, he concluded that the woman must have had a particular skill set in stealth. He respected that fact, and folded it away in the crevasses of his mind.
"Shepard? What the hell are you doing here? And weren't you dead? Look, I don't have any quarrel with you. Don't interfere," Nassana spoke, contempt and confusion ringing clear in her voice.
He watched as the woman called 'Shepard' took a step forward. She ambled along with an unhurried confidence, every step sure and easy. Her closely cropped dark hair curled against her temple, and her light brown eyes gleamed with the desire for a fight. The rich colours of sunset beamed golden rays across the deep brown of her skin.
The assassin could tell even from this distance that she was bound to be a self-assured, fervent creature, with an inclination for brashness. But of course, anyone could discern that fact from the sounds of explosions and gunshots that followed in her wake. He found that her brazen nature didn't completely displease him.
"Remember how we were such good, buddy-old pals, Nassana? Maybe I just missed you," she was speaking now, her voice all smoothness and surety. She still wore that crooked smile, as if she were silently saying 'I know something you don't.'
He watched as Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, casually leaning back. For a woman who seemed ready to fight given the slightest inclination, her demeanor was incredibly calm. His mind began to whir with the calculated attempts to discern her motives, before refocusing on Nassana as the asari sputtered irritably.
"Cut the crap, Shepard. You seem to be having fun with all this, executing my sister and now hatching some scheme to kill me as well." Nassana clenched her fists, glaring accusingly at the woman called Shepard. "Actually, I don't care what you want or why you even came for me; but I will not allow myself to be cut down, especially by a sordid rogue like you."
Shepard winced mockingly, holding up her empty palms in a symbol of submission. "Ouch, Nassana. That one really hurt my feelings," then the timbers of her voice dropped an octave, and she spoke with menacing conviction. "But, as much as I would like to wring your neck with my bare hands, that is not why I'm here."
Movement from his peripheral caught his attention, and he looked away from the two women. Nassana's guards had loosened the grip on their weapons at the proclamation of Shepard's supposed intentions.
However, despite voicing words that claimed a momentary peace, she kept her left hand hidden behind her back, and he could make out the faint blue glow of charging biotics. Her companions made no move to act.
Watching from above, the scene again played like he was in a surreal reality. The golden cast of the room only enhanced the dreamlike effect he felt. This was to be his final job.
As well as his final resting place.
But this woman, this Shepard, went out of her way to make sure that he didn't indulge the desire. What was her reasoning? Was she simply a rival assassin sent to punish him for an act committed in the dismal memories of his past?
He peered at her through the vent, observing the way her body shifted into a subtle offensive stance, the blue tell-tale of biotic power clutched in the fist that was hidden from Nassana's sight. The halo of red and orange light cast by the sunset bathed her in golden hues, and reflected against her coal black hair.
So be it. He could not decipher her motivations, but he would indulge her nonetheless.
Shifting his body weight to allow for easier maneuvering, the assassin carefully lifted the vent and silently placed it aside. He adjusted his crouching position, deliberately making the minimum amount of noise possible. He wanted to be heard.
Shepard's eyes flitted upward at the faint sound of his movement, now aware of his presence. The mercs heard the sound as well, two of them peering curiously at the ceiling and trading glances.
She quickly dropped her gaze, as to not give him away, and hesitated. Her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, as she worried the flesh between her teeth. Considering, debating. About what, he still could not tell.
Then, the blue glow disappeared, and she again fell into a casual stance. It seemed as if she were resigning herself to whatever he had planned.
Good choice, as he preferred her not to get in the way. The instant acceptance of unknown camaraderie unnerved him, however.
"And as much as I would like to gun down those incompetent mercs of yours, I'll hold off on that, too," Shepard finally spoke, the confidence in her voice not once betraying the indication of stress he saw a moment earlier.
The clacking of booted heels against the marble floor sounded as Nassana paced forward. An irritated huff escaped her cobalt lips.
"Then why did you just barrel through my towers, killing every mercenary you see? What the hell are you here for? Credits?" her tone was clipped and agitated. It was evident Nassana was losing her hold. "Is it payment you want? If that's the case, then we can put this all behind us, Shepard."
Shepard shook her head balefully, her lips forming a hard, bitter smile. "Money won't solve this, Nassana. What you did to those workers sealed your fate, as far as I'm concerned. Why'd you do it, huh?" she then waved a dismissive hand. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you and the scum you call mercenaries will be dead in the ground in only a few moments."
That was his cue.
Nassana's face morphed into a visage of sheer indignation, while the mercs behind her lifted their heads to locate the source of another, louder thump. "Is that what you're worried about? Shepard, you of all people should know the value of sacrifice and-"
"Nassana, we heard something," the asari mercenary alerted, pointing her rifle at the ceiling.
Nassana massaged her temple with well-manicured fingers. "Dammit, I don't have time for this. Search the perimeter. I'll take care of this once-"
The certain, guttural sound that emerged after a neck snap startled Nassana into silence. She didn't have time to react before two more bodies hit the polished floor, the assassin moving in elegant, understated motions to cut down the next merc. Once awareness of what was occurring settled in, the asari mercenary attempted to defend herself, but quickly received a shot through the heart instead.
Nassana barely uttered a surprised cry when the assassin pressed her prone form against his body. In that moment, the seconds seemed to slow down, as if time itself were releasing its vice-like grip on reality to observe the scene. Golden light from the fading sunset entwined the two forms in a secure clasp. It was almost intimate, the embrace in which he held her. If the circumstances were different, one could assume he was giving a lover his final good-bye.
But he was an assassin, and his target was finally in his clutches.
With his pistol jabbed into the fleshy part of her stomach, he pulled the trigger.
Her cerulean head lolled delicately across his shoulder as he settled her body on the desk. He curled emerald fingers over her lifeless, azure digits, resting one cold hand over the other. Taking a small step back, he gazed at her form, the symbol of completion for yet another contract. The assassin bowed his head, and blocked out all outside intrusions, focusing only on the obsidian depths in his mind's eye.
He prayed to the Goddess Kalahira, for forgiveness and protection of the soul encased out of body.
He prayed for peace and tranquility in the swirling Remoteness of the Ocean.
He prayed for the reunification of loved ones in the Expanse of the Afterlife.
"Thane Krios, right? I went through hell to get up here, so I'm not in a particularly good mood to be ignored right now."
His reverie was pertly interrupted. Thane lifted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the still body of Nassana Dantius. "It typically isn't in good form to interrupt the prayers of a soul long forsaken."
A brief silence. He listened to the murmuring of the hooded woman behind Shepard, "Of course, I knew he was there. Nice polish. Though I prefer to just get the job done and go home." The man in Cerberus colours shushed her.
Shepard crossed her arms, a crinkle appearing between her full eyebrows. "What for? Nassana didn't deserve salvation. I should have gotten rid of her when I had the chance," she shook her head then, her heated gaze wavering. "And you saw what she did to her own workers."
He met her eyes then, watching as she tried to regain her shaken clout. And although she tried to hide it, he noticed the way her lips tightened and how her previously casual stance straightened almost imperceptibly.
"Not for her. For me."
Thane ambled forward, each step deliberate and controlled as he spoke. The guns of Shepard's companions were steadily trained on him, tracking his movements. The heat of the fading Illium sun settled upon his form, and he welcomed the warmth, for it meant the banishment of coldness.
"The judgment of a man cannot be based on his decisions alone," he declared. "You, for instance, are the sole cause of much carnage and death, and for what purpose... I wonder?" His voice was low and measured, as if he were also speaking on the behalf of his own character.
"So were the mercs; that's why they needed to be put in the ground. That was my purpose," Shepard responded, the corners of her lips down-turned into a scowl.
Her companion, the male, had nodded his agreement at her retort. It did not escape Thane's notice that the Cerberus officer glared at him in the same way that he glared at the mercs. Nor did the assassin disregard the pistol that was staunchly aimed towards his chest.
In response, Thane strode forward, not sparing Shepard a second glance as he pushed past her. He heard the sound, a slight indication of annoyance as she turned to see where he was headed. His mind made a small note of how she clearly was not used to being overlooked in such a manner. His steps brought him directly in front of the man's gun, his bare chest a hairbreadth away, as if silently challenging him to shoot.
"You wanted me. Well-here I am."
The Cerberus officer tightened his grip on the trigger, his features contorting in contempt.
"Jacob," came the low warning from behind Thane.
The man called Jacob stood his ground for a moment longer, glaring venomously at the assassin, before loosening his grip. "Recruit him so we could get this over with already." Luckily, Jacob noticed the way Shepard's eyes widened in disbelief at what sounded like a demand, and her mouth opened to give a scathing retort. "Uh, with respect, Commander," he quickly amended.
Receiving the knowledge of her title wasn't a surprise at all, and Thane turned on his heel. Once his back was turned, the Commander shot Jacob a look that practically said 'We will talk about your continuous practice of insubordination later.'
She sighed then. "Let's get to the reason of why I'm here. You've heard of the Collectors, haven't you? I'm going to blow their base up."
He glanced at her, clear surprise etched into the lines of his face before he could hide it. "If I may be so bold as to ask," he let a small amount of mockery trickle into his tone, "what is your reasoning?"
"They're abducting entire human colonies. I'm assembling a team, and we're going to go exterminate the damn bugs."
If he didn't already know the dismality of the situation, the conviction with which she spoke could have convinced him that it would really be that simple.
"The Collector base is located in the Omega 4 Relay. No ship has ever been recorded for return."
"So they say. I'm used to people telling me I can't do something because of some hackneyed excuse of impossibility," she tsked then, waving a hand dismissively. The crooked smile returned, and she fixed him with a determined stare.
"You know what happens then? I prove them wrong, because that's what I do. The Collectors will not be taking any more humans, because I will stop them. And for that to happen, I need your help. So what do you say, Mr. Assassin?"
Even though it was voiced as a question, he doubted she would really give him much choice in the matter.
He allowed a small sound of amusement to escape from his lips, the human's proclamation of bravery charming him. Or was it simply stupidity? It had been a very long time in which he met another who had acted the same way, with such vigor and determination, as if the entire universe were to succumb to her wills if she so demanded it.
"I expected nothing less from the reputable Commander Shepard, who even beat the impossibility of coming back from the dead."
Her smirk slipped into a soft half smile, and he thought he detected a hint of modesty behind it. Odd, for such an impetuous person.
"This was to be my last job." His slender fingers slid along the length of Nassana's desk as he spoke, barely touching the holographic interface and sharp edges of the cold, metallic surface. "If you hadn't arrived, Nassana's guards would have surely attempted to slay me. I cannot say that I would have put up much of a defense."
Shepard exhaled through her nose. "You wanted to die. Why?"
"Purpose. Purpose, and the will to execute that intent," he stopped in front of her, not meeting her gaze as he flexed the ductile webbing between his middle fingers. He watched the lime green tissue turn white as the edges stretched farther than what was normal.
"I have neither. Kalahira shall whisk me away peacefully, and I will be all the more grateful."
That rendered the Commander silent, and she looked away, her mind clearly working to discern his phrasing. When she looked up, they locked eyes. Twilight reflected in his obsidian orbs, cold and empty.
"I'm dying," he murmured.
The surprise she wore was plain across her features as she shook her head. She retreated back, her fist balled on her hip, while muttering something low and nearly incoherent. Thane only caught bits and pieces of her hurried rambling: "-recruit a guy who is already dead," and "-at's the point?"
He wasn't insulted; her outburst made him weary, however. Expecting tact with the people he encountered in this line of work was naïve. The male, Jacob, only seemed to glare with more malcontent at the assassin the longer they stood around.
"It will not affect my work on this mission. And I am not contagious," he said.
Shepard glanced at him, her cheeks darkening as evidence of her embarrassment at being heard. "I'm...sorry. How-how long do you have?"
His eyes lingered longer than necessary on the subtle change in her skin tone. The involuntary physical reactions of another species always fascinated him, his mind drawing comparisons on how his own form would react in a similar circumstance. In place of blood rushing to the face, the protruding ridges lining his outer cheek would bristle.
He bowed his head, mentally shaking away the detracting thoughts. "May we discuss this once aboard your ship?"
"Uh, sure. I mean...yes. So..." she took a step toward him, attempting to melt back into the hard, confident exterior she carried out of necessity. "You're officially recruited?"
Thane turned his gaze toward the sunset, letting the heat wash over his face. It was truly a beautiful sight; he had never allowed himself to appreciate the sunset. Nos Astra's towering skyscrapers threatened to hide the blazing inferno, but it contained too much vitality to allow itself concealment. He deliberately stared into the harsh rays of light, searing in its luminosity. The sparks of luster danced across his vision, hastening its pace to make a quick departure for nightfall. He gazed at the sun until his pupils began to tingle, and his primary set of lids shut instinctively against the burning fire. Vibrant patterns, the effect of prolonged sun gazing, swirled in the darkness of his closed eyes.
"If you're trying to blind yourself to get out of doing this mission, it's not going to work that easily. You'll still be fighting Collectors, just with a cane and a guide dog."
Thane's lips lifted in a smile, and he finally peeled open his primary lids to find her standing within arm's reach, staring at him curiously and with a little concern. The dotted patterns now circled over her face, and he blinked their multi-colored effects away. At this proximity, he could clearly see the jagged scars set into her skin, each edge curving into another that begat a story of chaos across her face. Even the skin which was not scarred seemed rough.
She didn't flinch at his close inspection. She was not ashamed, wearing her scars proudly as a testament to her storied rebirth. Against such confidence, the harshness of her wounds seemed to fade, and the vibrancy of her eyes regained prominence. Thane hummed faintly.
"There were many deaths of the innocent wrought today. I could not save them all." At this statement, he absently noted how her shoulders drooped a bit, her brows pinching in a frown as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She was angry. The discovery of a shared abhorrence for the loss of innocent life encouraged him to continue. "I have done more than my fair share of contribution of darkness to this space. I am grateful for your offer, as it may signify a chance to bring light to the universe again.
"A suicide mission will do nicely, Commander."
Though he wasn't going to reveal to her that he didn't know what a 'guide dog' was.
- Many thanks goes out to my wonderful betas SilverShards, TrappedInWonderland, Melismo, CassiusBrutus, and Carleen for helping me fix up the horrible travesty that was the First Draft. I like getting critiques from five different perspectives because I'm some kind of sick masochist apparently. Anyway, this is going to be a long term thing, so feel free to kick back and enjoy this ride with me.