Sophie Shepard wandered through the streets of Omega. It has been two weeks she had been awaken from the dead, and a week since she managed to flee from Cerberus. All she had was the clothes she wore - a black long sleeved shirt and black tight pants -, a hooded overcoat which covered all her body and face, and a pistol. Her stay on Omega had been hell, but Shepard had no choice, either she endured that, or she ran back to the Illusive Man, and she'd rather starve that ask him for help, only the thought of it sent shivers down her spine.
Damn, I'll actually starve if I keep on like this. It had been two days since Shepard's last meal, and her body was debilitated and weak. Theoretically, she should still be sedated on a gurney, but the mech attack on Lazarus Station made her wake up way sooner than it was expected, and she was quite far from fully healed. I need creds. Fast.
As she walked around the dirty alleys, she overheard a conversation going on between two young men. Their voices were rushed with excitement. ''Did they accept you?'' the first one said. Shepard hid behind a corner, not being able to see them, but very much able to hear their every word.
''Yeah, what about you?'' there was a little pause where Shepard could almost see one of the guys nodding. ''Great! This is so cool, our first jobs as mercs. Okay, actually we aren't mercs, the batarian in Afterlife made that clear, but we'll work with them! Maybe if they like us, we'll be recruited! And the credits are always welcomed.'' That was all Shepard needed to hear. She had a place, a guy to look for and the guarantee that she would be paid. She just didn't know what job were they recruiting freelancers for, but anything would do. She passed through Omega's market and walked towards Afterlife's entrance, undisturbed. No one gave a second look to the skinny little tiny form walking past them, almost noiseless. No one even seemed to notice nor care about the orange glowing scars on her face. They are getting worse. Should I be worried?... Yeah, probably. But I need food. And with that thought she went one going.
Once inside Afterlife, she squeezed herself through the dancing bodies that moved along the heavy bass, making her head throb. She looked around her eyes scanning the place, and she found a batarian in full armor, with the Blue Suns symbol on the chest and helmet. She walked towards him and when she got close enough, he pointed her to another batarian, this one in front of a console on a side room. She entered the room and lowered the hood, so she could look the batarian in the eyes, all four of them.
As she got closer to him, his eyes seemed to devour her, undress her. Her hand flew to her pistol out of reflex, but she didn't draw it, and the batarian didn't seem to notice her gesture. Only when she finally stopped walking, right in front of him, he bothered to look at her face
''Hey, aren't you sweet. You're on the wrong place, honey, strippers are on the room across the hall'' The batarian's voice was filled with mischief, and that was the last straw for Shepard. She drew her pistol and put its barrel against the batarian's jaw.
''Here's the deal, I'm having a terrible day and I don't need you to make it worse. It actually would be a much brighter day if I shot a fucking batarian's brain off. So let's not piss me off, okay?'' Shepard's voice was low and controlled, but her figure flickered with blue light, and the batarian got the message pretty quick.
''Woah, okay, easy there.'' He raised his hands, and Shepard holstered her pistol ''Well.'' He cleared his throat ''If you get the job done you'll get 500 credits. Your job is to help to take out Archangel. Head to the transportation hub, there will be a guy there to take you where the assault will take place. Anything else?'' He typed something on his console and looked back at Shepard ''Nothing? Great. Send in the next!'' He yelled the last phrase to the other batarian who guided people inside the room.
''It wasn't that hard, was it?'' Shepard mumbled, walking out of there the fastest she could without running or drawing too much attention to her.