You've heard it hundreds of times, now you'll hear it again. Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and EA. I thank them for the world they have created, and seek no profit from this story at all, what so ever. I do not own any it.


Two men in the lounge. One is smoking, the other annoyed at the others habit. They get into an argument of some kind for awhile, most likely over the other continuing to smoke his cigarette. Another is outside on the balcony sitting in a lounge chair, he just woke after a nap. Turian walks in, he makes another pass, making polite conversation with another the Asari receptionist. The arguing men get stop arguing, with the one going out to have his smoke in peace. There is a mixed variety of guards watching some sort of anime, seemed Salarian in nature; they were in the room above The chit-chatting Turian and Asari. The wind from the passing Sky-Cars picks up slightly.

One round from a black widow, no follow ups. Two hundred and fifty meter distance from the opposite building. There was a ten minute time frame from when the shot was fired and he would make his withdrawal. A Volus is pacing slowly back and forth in a conference over something that didn't concern him. He checked his omni-tool for the details of his mark. It definetly wasn't the Volus, nor anyone he'd seen walikng around currently. Human, green eyes, wearing a brand new grey suit, with blonde hair. The bastard hadn't left his office yet. A woman walks to the office, knocking at the door to come in, now was his chance.

There wasn't much need to correct the aim; the gun had enough power to go through a few different APCs without you ever seeing one. Too bad he couldn't bring it back home, weight would slow him down in the get away. Prone on the ground, his heart and breath slowing, finger so rested on the trigger. The mark wasn't survivng this, the impact tearing through flesh and bone like it was paper. He almost felt sorry for the mark pissing of the wrong asshole, but hey, buisness was buisness, and this job payed the bills every galactic standard month and right on cue, the mark emerges.

The anime got to a really good point where the Krogan was piss drunk, even the Krogan security guard laughed, nearly falling over. They wouldn't be laughing for long. He tugged the trigger back, sending hot death to it target, and sure enough it tore through the poor man dead. The woman appeared to scream as blood splattered on her. The assailent didn't see much of the panic, as he simply walked over to the other side of the rooftop and got in the parked Sky-Car. He checked his omni-tool for the time, smiling at eight minutes remaining.

He flew around for awhile before landing in a busy car port. Before he got out, he pulled an old baseball hat over his head. He'd return for the car later when heat was down. A hunger came over him and he began to look for places to eat. There, a pub, human owned with an old Irish theme to it. The layout was all familiar to him, gained from repeated visits and drinking. On a vid screen, the anime from earlier was on. Now there was a partialy naked, drunk Turian with a sober Quarian trying to restrain him. Later on there was a moment with two Asari going at it like some sort of Samuri fight. He laughed, remembering he knew a few like that, enjoying the show as he drank and ate his beer and fries.

His omni-tool chirped; there was a message. Target dead, authorities currently investigating. Friendlies have already moved weapon. No leads on suspect. His involvment completely unknown, just like he wanted it to always be, no gimmicks. An easy two-million credits sent to his account. Next time, bring his own gun. Have a nice day.

Later at his home, after settling down on the couch, a glass of water in hand, he watched some cheesy movie. Sniper on the roof trying to kill some person in an office complex on Illium. Hilarious one-liners he'd have to remember for later when he was with freinds. Something awfully familiar about the movie, just couldn't put a finger on it. That Asari from today he passed coming home from the pub, looked exactly like the actress playing the heroine, same face markings, maybe that was her he passed. That close to a celebrity, a B-lister for God's sake, he never knew. Movie went on, sniper brains the guy and gets in this big chase scene of which almost kills him with laughter. He switches it to some report on some Council meeting that had transpired. A news alert came over that some CEO had died from a high powered rifle shot from a distance, but stocks were mysteriously going up. How many credits did he have in them? Twenty, no forty-eight, or was it somewhere around eighty.

He left the vid screen on and went to the bathroom for a shower. It had been a rough day. Killing people wasn't that easy. It was pretty hot out and there was barely any shade at all for him to wait in. He had to leave once just to get more water, remembering the message he had recieved from the client saying that it was his own responsibilty for such and could have endangered the operation. The client got what he or she or even it wanted; a dead CEO of some company and several very wealthy owners of stock. He still couldn't figure out why stock rose, a question for another time like tommorow, as he took a trip to the bank and talk with his stock broker pal. The radio turned on, playing some sort of song from a Salarian rapper.

His girlfriend had left him a message. She had to cancel their date for tuesday next week, something along the line of visiting her family that day. A response message was created and forwarded to her to see if the following Tuesday was okay with her, as he got dresses for the night. The News had ended, and now it was on to Baseball back on Earth. The Washington Nationals facing off against the Moscow Bears. He'd gone only once to a game, just not enough time on hand, killing and robbing people was a full-time job after all. Slowly, his eyes started to close as a runner stole third, his sleeping face illuminated by the vid screen.

End