The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
-"The Destruction of Sennacherib", Lord Byron
The Citadel was a lot like Commander John Shepard remembered. A little more tense, true, a little more hard-edged. A few more people walking around with guns, like they expected glowing-eyed husks to show up any moment.
He checked his omnitool. Yep, this was the place.
"A special asset" Hackett had said, in that gravelly voice of his. Told him to sit at the bar, second stool from the left, and wait.
The bartender showed up.
"Can I get you something?"
"Water."
"Big spender."
Shepard smiled thinly.
The bartender came back with the glass in one hand and a cocktail in the other.
"What is this?"
"From the gentleman down the bar, Commander."
Shepard got a drop on his finger, touched it to the port on his omnitool. It didn't register any known poisons or toxins. He had the mod installed-with a little help from Mordin-after that incident when he turned blue for a week. It also, helpfully, told him it was a human drink called an "appletini".
There was a guy down the bar, but he didn't look up. Shepard turned back to find the bartender downing the drink in one gulp.
And the little cherry.
After a few seconds, Shepard managed to close his mouth. "Chiro."
"Yep." He set the glass back on the counter, straightened the lapels of his shirt, something that was almost a smile on his lips.
"So, which disguise is this one?"
"No disguise. This is all me. Well, except for the vest. Speaking of which-" he checked his watch "-it's quitting time."
"How'd you know when I'd show up?"
"No, I'm literally quitting."
Shepard studied the (assassin? spy?) infiltrator in front of him. Tall, a hair below two metres. Black hair, blue eyes. Wide shoulders, moved like he knew how to handle himself. Even with his clothes, Shepard knew he was not a stone wall like Vega, but well muscled all the same. A jaw you could hang a lamp on, like grandpa used to say. All in all, he probably had to beat the boys, girls, and asari off with a stick.
"How long have you had this job?"
"Since I gave the regular guy a few hundred credits to take a smoke break."
"Hey!" called some barfly. "Gimme another Krogan Insertion."
"Right away, sir. I'll be right back."
Shepard called up the recipe for the drink on his omnitool, and found that the infiltrator was mixing it like he had been doing it all is life. He acted exactly like every skilled barkeep in the galaxy.
"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Shepard asked when Chiro returned.
He shrugged. "It's useful. People like to talk to bartenders. Meet you by the elevator."
"You got all your gear in that bag?" Shepard said after a few floors of stony silence.
"No, most of it is already on the Normandy."
"How-nevermind."
"By the way, you really need better security when you buy food."
"Our food is checked three separate times to get to the ship."
"Like I said, better security."
The commander took a deep breath. Of course, Chiro could've asked someone else to take his stuff on board, or just left it from the last time they flew together.
"You're not going to make me crawl through any more tubes, are you?"
"None you weren't going to anyway."
Of course, the infiltrator could just be messing with him, with that weird sense of humor of his.
The elevator went "ding" when it opened.
As they passed through the refugees near the Normandy's berth, Shepard watched Chiro tense, just a little. he did something with his arm, and one of his throwing knives appeared in his hand, probably shaken from his loose sleeves.
They stopped a few times to chat. Or, more accurately, Shepard chatted while Chiro stood nearby with his head on a swivel.
"I don't see why you-"
"Because it helps people." Shepard answered. "Gives them a little more hope. It's the right thing to do."
Chiro sighed at the foolishness of certain commanders, and followed Shepard into the Normandy.