I remember the Reaper wars. I remember the way the galaxy shook with their presence, trembled at the sound of that awful mechanical roar as they descended through the clouds. They tore apart the fabric of known civilization, and when it was all over, when they were finally destroyed, we were left to pick up the pieces. Almost unanimously, the people of the galaxy decided to refashion the citadel, to make it the seat of power once more, and for a time, there was peace.

It wouldn't last, of course. In our galaxy, peace never lasts. Extremists came forth, cultists that believed that all of the races in the galaxy should have capitulated, should have continued the 'cycle' that the Reapers spoke of. The Council's response was quick, and it was brutal. I was only nineteen at the time, and I remember my first combat. It was far from the declared heroics of the fabled Commander Shepard and her crew. This battle was dirty, it was fast, and it was bloody. The cultists were wiped out, and none of the soldiers that had been sent to clean it up ever truly felt the same.

Three years later, I was pulled into the RAVEN program, with a group of five others. The details of the program are still classified, but it was a special operations force, run by a SpecTRe, a turian called Natlos. Her first name, we never learned, and she never offered it, but her training was strict and to the point. The RAVENs, the few of us that went through her program, were assigned to the council, to be a force directly under the SpecTRe command, to be used when a single SpecTRe was not enough, or when they desired information before an operation.

Two days after my twenty fourth birthday, the Terminus systems erupted in war. Some blamed the Vorcha, others blamed the remaining mercenary groups that had lasted through the Reaper war, but they demanded a seat on the Council, and many of them seemed willing to do anything to get it. The Council sent a plea to Aria T'loak, but the Queen of Omega was stretched thin, already guarding the relay and taking losses as each renewed swell of forces hit. It seemed that the mercenaries were no longer bending to her whim, and with few options left, a RAVEN was sent in.

. . .

What hit me first was the smell. It was the scent of sin, the scent of depravity. Some would have called it a good scent, others would have turned their nose up at it. A few might have gotten sick, and decided to get back on the shuttle and leave. I simply tucked a stray strand of black hair behind my ear and stepped forward, my soft boots meeting the metal of the hangar bay. Glancing around, it was clear that Omega had not been faring well since the beginning of the Terminus War. Scorches on the walls indicated where explosions had rocked the hangar bay, and bullet marks were visible everywhere. Somehow, the bloodstains seemed to have been cleaned away, though I could not recall ever hearing about a janitorial service on the station.

It was my first time on the infamous station that had once been the bastion of the Terminus systems, and was now the one barrier that kept them from slipping through to Council space. No one really knew just how Aria T'loak had decided to support the Council, though there were rumors flying everywhere about various different guesses and stories, none of which truly made sense. After fighting battles on all sides, the pirate 'queen' had put her pride aside long enough to send a short message to the Asari councilor.

I flexed my wrist, the band of my omni-tool hidden under the long sleeves of my jacket, thinking for not the first time that I should have requested a different outfit. While it was certainly acceptable to wear casual attire on Omega, it was just too... clean. All of the other people on the shuttle had born stains or rips in their clothing, and I felt a bit exposed despite the fabric hugging my skin.

A batarian pushed past me, grumbling to himself as he stalked by, joining the queue to pass through the hangar door to get into the station. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and he swiveled his eyes to shoot a glare at me before carrying on. I sighed. Despite the fact that the Humans were part of the council, even that many considered a human to be the greatest hero in the galaxy, there were still places that humans weren't viewed as belonging.

Slowly, the crowd worked its way, carrying me with it, one by one passing through the checkpoint. The two turian guards looked at me as I stopped in front of them, arms crossed over my chest. "Name?" One asked gruffly, his voice sounding distorted through the mic of his helmet.

"Lauren." I replied. There was really no reason not to tell the truth. It wasn't like my special ops status was stamped across my ident. "Lauren Kanto."

"Why are you here, human?"

"I would assume for the same reason as the rest." I replied bitingly, giving him my best glare. "There is a war going on, you realize."

"Sarcasm isn't welcome, human." His tone was harsh, but there seemed to be some laughter in it. "I didn't realize humans were getting caught in the war."

"We have colonies in the Terminus systems." I protested. "Doesn't anyone remember the Collectors anymore?"

He paused, then grunted, waving me past him and into the station. I didn't bother with any further remarks. I had heard more than enough about what the Talons were capable of when it came to defending their home, and that insignia on his armor had been glaring me in the face for the entire short exchange. Since the end of the Reaper war, Aria and the Talons had formed an unspoken arrangement. They defended the lives of Omega. She defended its freedom. Together, they had held off the brute force of the Terminus systems, stopping its advances towards the relay. Still, they were growing thin, their defenses beginning to show signs of cracking. I glanced back once at the guards before they were lost from sight.

I hired an aircab, with a few credits, asking it to bring me to Afterlife. The batarian who was driving shot me a few strange looks, but he didn't ask any questions. I supposed that was just part of living on Omega. The air was different when I stepped back out of the aircar, somehow cleaner, more purified, though the lingering whiff of debauchery remained. Glancing over a railing, it was easy to see just how large the station really was, but also just how strong anyone would have to be to rule it. Even here, outside the infamous Afterlife, signs of battle could be found. I frowned slightly, noticing that most of the civilians were armed. A side-effect of Aria's rule, most likely, but a very good deterrent for crime on the personal level. I shifted my bag slightly on my shoulder, almost wishing that I had my weapon on my hip as well. To take it out now, however, would just attract stares, and attention was the last thing that I wanted.

Unfortunately, that meant waiting in line, and seeing as it extended some forty meters out of the door, it looked like it would be a long wait. Even as I settled in at the back, more civilians were walking towards me, joining the line.

In the end, it took the better part of an hour to make my way in, losing another hundred credits just to get past the elcor bouncer, his monotone greeting following me as I stepped through into the vibrant club. I paused as I came into the main room, orienting myself. Two exits presented themselves to me at once, a third door obviously leading to the restrooms. There at one side sat the bar, and on another...

I bit my lip as I saw the raised seating area above the rest of the club. Aria T'Loak's booth. The pirate queen herself. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of purple skin as she leaned forward to talk to one of her guards, then she fell back into the shadows. It was enough, however. I knew she was there, and she was, after all, the individual I had been sent to meet. I was off grid, however, and had to be cautious in my approach. A back story had been set up for me, along with my travel papers, and I ran through it quickly in my head before I took the path between the crowded club towards that dais, heading towards the ramp to Aria's perch.