Prologue -
It was night now, or what would pass as night by Earth's standards, on the station. It was the roughest place in the galaxy but somehow still maintained a slight semblance of order. There was a dark auburn glow all around the station, cast by the upper crimson lights running the outer edge, that caused an eternally gloomy feeling. He felt free here usually, but not now. Not after what happened. Since then, he had had one goal and now was the time to execute his deeply thought out plan. He had bought a rifle off of a weapons dealer only a few days ago, and had minimal practice with it. As he studied it for a moment, he noticed how beaten up it was. How many others had both killed and been killed with this gun, he had no idea. Scratches and nicks littered the barrel, and a few initials marked the side of it, showing ownership that no longer existed. Tally marks were etched into the side as well, probably from some wannabe badass. There was only a few, hinting that the scorekeeper's desires for greatness didn't last long. There was dark corridors on either side of the bridge that he was on, which he watched for days, studying the ups and downs of traffic of the entire area to know when the right time was. During busier hours, the bridge, hallways and the throughway beneath were lit brighter by lights that gave off a golden glow, giving easy visibility to all surroundings. Trash filled corners and edges of rooms, hallways, every nook and cranny one could find. Empty cups thrown down by those without a care in the world. Containers with half eaten food left on tables, waiting for the next vagabond on his desperate hunt to see it with wide eyes. Large cables and cords ran mostly along ceilings, with a few drooping down here and there. Pipes used for plumbing, ventilation and other such necessities existed behind walls and in ducts. Every now and then, wall panels were missing, revealing cables or pipes like an open wound to the station. The man had set up a few no-name boxes next to the railing on either side of the bridge to give him a little extra room for as much accuracy as possible, as well as some refuge from sight. They were covered in grime and existed as parts of unclaimed garbage by those who once owned them, and blended into the scenery, giving no reason for suspicion in the off chance that the man's target or his lackeys may look up in his direction. He sat behind it, facing the same direction as his target would be, so as to not be noticed or seen through the glass siding. His hands were cold, and he was starting to become tired after seventy-two hours of being awake. It wasn't a horrible matter, he wasn't going to sleep right now anyways, at least not until this was finished. He noticed that he was hungry, but it could wait. He was tense, which was normal in this type of situation, but even more so now, because of who it was. The only thing he could picture in order to get his mind off his agitation was the days he had experienced not so long ago. Life seemed easier then, even though he knew it was just the rosy feel of the past, and that things were still rough. The nostalgia was cast away when he heard a laugh below him, meters away. He got up from his sitting position and peered over the box and railing. He saw them, a couple hundred feet away, and had to prepare. He had already loaded his rifle with a fresh thermal clip, but he had extras in the chest pockets of his dark vest, just in case. Using the small amount of ambient light afforded to him, he checked them again to ensure that they were there. There was three of them, a batarian and two turians. They were facing away from him, standing under the wheat-colored light as they talked to one of few food vendors they had under their thumb. One stood off to one side, staring at the large murals painted onto the wall ages ago which had faded and weathered to almost unrecognizable stages. Bullet holes interrupted what was left of the beautiful expressive imagery that had drawn customers to the business nearby in years past. Some care was needed by them to not trip over a several inch thick cable winding through the large room they were in. The sign, "Melia's Grilled Meats", glowed orange above them. The sweet smell that was similar to grilled beef hung over the entire area and touched the man's nostrils as his gut croaked with desire. The situation looked like it was going smoothly. They had eaten, stood next to their stools, and laughed with the turian owner as he started to shut machines down for the night. As they said their goodbyes and the group walked away, the man had to duck behind his single barrier of invisibility. He waited, his time to act was only a minute or two away. His heart was beating harder as he cradled his rifle in his arms, waiting for them to pass under him. As they strolled under the bridge, their voices reached his ears as well as the consistent splash of boots stepping through a puddle. He heard the voice he recognized, the batarian, as he cursed humanity as a whole under his breath, and he froze in place, but they kept walking as the conversation slowly withered. He waited a moment in order to create distance between them, allowing him some slight sounds of movement that they would be too far away to catch, before he crawled over to the other side of his platform, covering and revealing the small lights that followed the sides of the walkway. He came to a kneel, rested the rifle on the metal bar that ran above the glass panels of the railings, and pushed the end up to his shoulder. He set his sights on the one, the batarian, ready to bring to pass what felt like his life's purpose. The sights were unsteady as he shook from nervousness and the lack of fuel that his body was crying out for. He took his final breaths before he served justice to one who deserved it more than any other. He inhaled and then exhaled. He inhaled again, and exhaled again. He inhaled once more, and a single image of her flashed before his eyes. Her raven hair down in no organization, and stuck to her cheek on one side. A radiant golden pearl shining in her azure eyes as she gazed right at him. He saw her lips move to form the syllables as her voice echoed in his ears.
"I love you."
The memory dissipated as quick as it came, and he pulled the trigger.
