(I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!)
Fun Fact about me: I don't drink. Life is full of things that are initially enjoyable to the human body until the choke and kill the life out of you, alcohol is a more visual example of this truth. Plus it takes control of your body, I find myself thinking that I'm slightly above losing control of my body to a liquid substance in a glass cup.
That being said, why do I have a small glass of…..whatever right in front of me? Very simple: I finally have something truly worth celebrating about.
You see, today is my Fourth anniversary. Four years ago on the dot, I fell asleep on my soft, comfy bed only to wake up to futuristic cars, diverse aliens, and mass relays. At first, I was all like 'Oh my God, this is so cool!' being that type of nerd, but that was before the hunger set in, and the thirst. The fear eventually followed afterwards.
I was alone, alone and million miles away from the one help that truly mattered. Maybe even farther than that.
That wasn't what sucked. What truly sucked was that I was old enough to (legally) take care of myself, and I was surrounded by a bunch of racist, alien business owners. As a African-American myself, racism is one of my big "zero-tolerance" policy list, but like typical racism, what I want doesn't particularly matter anymore. I had to adjust, adapt, get used to the new pecking order if I wanted to survive in this new society.
Three years ago, a Vorcha started picking a fight with me. I don't even remember what he wanted, maybe it was food or just a chance to muscle his way against a human. Well, he got more than what he bargained for, I pride myself in my ability to make others make themselves look stupid. By the time I was done with him, I'd made him too humiliated to look at himself in a mirror.
He was soooo embarrassed after what I had done to him. Then he got angry. Then he pulled the gun. Then things got serious.
He was undeniably buff, but he was also slow. And not conditioned to pain. I sliced his wrist before he could fire a shoot, he yelled out in pain and dropped the gun into my, ever eager hands.
It could have ended there. Maybe he was mad- on second thought, he was definitely mad, but maybe that would have been the end of it. He'd run off after seeing his gun pointed at his chest, maybe learn that humans may not be as gutless as he thought, and that would be that. But I'd never know, and neither would he.
He bared his fangs, and I pulled the trigger. Again. And again. And again. And again.
I was so scared. I cowered in my room, thinking that the police were gonna find me in the morning, the end of the week if I was lucky, and I didn't exactly throw away the gun. Most of all, I was horrified at what I had done, what I had become. It didn't matter if it was a game or a part of my imagination, it felt real enough to me. None of this would have happened in the real world, I wouldn't happen in the real world.
Eventually, I got set in my mind that the police would never come and I found out why: they didn't have the body to even investigate. Turns out, my Vorcha friend was notorious for picking fights with the wrong people and got himself a price on his head, wanted dead or alive with a heavy emphasis on the dead part.
That bounty was my saving grace, more than I really knew back then. During the week, I embraced another truth of the universe: as long as there was at least two people in it, someone's gonna want the other person dead.
Thus, I went to contract killing, or bounty hunting if you're old fashioned like that. Don't get any ideas, I'm no Jango Fett or Thane. There's bias in the bounty hunting business too, major shocker. I get a fist full of contracts every while or so, and even then, I'm barely scraping at the top of the money pool.
It doesn't matter though. I've made a living in hostile territory against overwhelming odds, and to that, I dedicate this toast.
Surrounded by different species, drunk or otherwise, I raised my small shot glass. "Here's to four years of madness." I toasted, and slowly brought the glass near my mouth.
"Hey."
I sighed and turned my head at the….Batarian, ugly alien there, standing behind me.
"Can I help you?" I asked casually, no need making unnecessary strife.
"You're in my seat." The Batarian demanded. There goes my statement about unnecessary strife.
I glanced around as I dropped my right hand from the bar. There were no free seats. "Didn't notice, sorry. Let me finish up here, and I'll be out of your way."
"You'll be out of my way right now." He pushed. This is why I dropped my right arm.
Not yet, let's see if he can still be civil. "Pal, it's just a shot glass," I held up the glass. "Let me drink it, pay for it, then I'll leave the bar. It's not long."
"I've been standing for an hour," my fingers flicked open the button as he talked, "for that spot and leave for just four minutes, then I come back and see you in my seat? You're getting up right now, unless you want trouble."
I sighed, "I don't want trouble. In fact, I take certain precautions to avoid trouble."
Survival Technique #14: Always wear a trench coat, or a long jacket, both better be thick. Can be a little hot to wear sometimes, but they hide a lot, and you never know when you'll need to shoot somebody inconspicuously.
In essence: Three bullets left my pistol (and my coat) straight into the Batarian's gut.
I stared at the shot glass as the grunt fell to the floor. "I don't even want my drink anymore. Now, you only had to wait for me to pay for it." I said more to myself than the Asari bartender. "I don't have to pay for it, right? I mean, I didn't drink it."
"I poured the glass didn't I?"
I grumbled, "Cheapsake."
The Asari, Tila I think, examined the hard currency I gave her. "Nobody uses hard credits in a long while."
"It's still scannable, right?" I questioned as her Omni-tool fazed into existence. The ding sound and her care-less look confirmed what I wanted to hear.
"You a bounty hunter right? That guy you shot, he's got money on his head." She spoke once the transaction was good and done.
My ears perked up at the sound of money. "You sure? How do you know?"
Tila poured the drink out (to my displeasured). "I recognized his face."
I literally deadpanned. "You…recognized his face. No offense, but Batarians all look alike."
"Don't be a racist," Tila scolded. "Don't believe me, scan his face, not like I really care."
Scan his face. Those words alone made me embarrassed. "Y-You wouldn't mind…. If I could just borrow for a quick sec…."
Tila sighed. "Should have known there was a reason you pay with hard cash."
"You try buying an Omni-Tool, not very cheap is it?" Apparently unafraid of corpses, Tila leaned down and took a camera shot of the Batarian. I leaned in close to get a good look at what the face picture would bring up.
"See? Char, wanted alive for a thousand credits-"
I kicked Char hard in the stomach, thanking God that I heard a groan. "Where's the contractor!?" I demanded as I hoisted him over my shoulder.
"154 West Side, t-that's just a couple blocks left of here-"
I was out that door before anyone could blink, running with a bleeding Batarian over my shoulder and the prospect of money wafing in my close future.
Sometimes, I've wondered about the far future, Cerberus, Commander Shepard (if he's a he or a she, that's been on my mind a lot), and the Reapers. I wonder about my place in this crazy world of Mass Effect and if I play a role in it at all. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Either way, bills aren't gonna pay themselves and these bad boys aren't going to turn themselves in.
Happy Fourth Anniversary to me, four years of madness and far from being done.
New Fanfic! I'll be doing this right along with the Star Wars one and my other fanfics haven't been forgotten either. I'm putting them off a bit till I finish my other real-life activities in January. Like, comment, and review!
May the Flames of Youth be with you, always
SNEAK PREVIEW!
"Don't you know what you've just done!?"
I looked back at Lo. He stared at me with absolute horror flashing in his eyes.
"What? You've never seen a kill before?" I asked incredulously. Lo never seeing death in Omega? That was simply unbelievable.
"No, not that!" Lo snapped. "That- that man was with Aria! Nobody %$* & with Aria!"
I looked back at the Turian corpse. "He was a turn-coat and a coward, I'm sure Aria won't miss him."
"'Any moves against Aria's people is a move against Aria herself, against Omega itself.'" Lo recited like a man possessed, clutching his arms in desperate need of comfort.
"O-kay, I get your point. What can we expect?" I asked.
Lo stared me straight in the eyes, his fear was unnerving me.
"She'll send everything."
Well fu-