MASS EFFECT

JUDGEMENT

BOOK ONE

WARDEN

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DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 2

CITADEL

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I'm on something called the Aroch Ward, whatever that means. I'm not sure of the date quite yet… and this place undoubtedly has its own method of time measurement… But according to my watch I've been here about ten minutes… And already I'm making friends.

I kneel next to the dead avian creature.

I turn to the reptilian man, Urine. "You come here."

He approaches nervously. I point at the dead avian creature. "What is this?"

He frowns at me. "I don't understand… What do you mean? That was… well, he wasn't my friend. Not really."

"I mean what is this thing?" I ask, looking at the strange creature. "Is it male? Why is it covered in lustrous plates? What cultural, social or religious significance do his face's markings have?"

"You're joking. Right? You've got to be joking." The reptilian man scoffs nervously, stepping away and looking over his shoulder at nobody before looking back at me. "You're totally joking."

I rise and take a step towards him, causing him to take a step back. I lower my head slightly, tilt it slightly to the side and raise an eyebrow.

"You're not joking…" Urine says, pointing out the absolute obvious. "He's well he's… But you're human. How can you not recognize him?"

"Well I don't know him." I quip, sarcastically. "And I know full well that I'm… Well… Human might be a tad debatable but that's not what I asked you. Is it? What is this thing?"

"That's a turian dammit." Urine cringes at my aggressive tone. "He's a male and the face markings are just a cultural thing. They distinguish where they originated from. Alright? How can you not recognize he's a turian? I'd understand why you wouldn't recognize what species I am-"

"While we're on that topic, what are you, exactly?" I ask, interrupting him.

"I'm… I'm a drell." He responds.

I nod thoughtfully, remembering this new information. "I see. I see. Now is there any particular reason why I shouldn't recognize this 'turian?'"

"Well… yeah. Were you born yesterday or something?" He asks.

I check my watch which has fried during the time travel apparently but he doesn't know that. I guesstimate. "No I was born about nine minutes ago and about seven minutes ago you attempted to mug me. Now, what am I missing here?"

The drell looks absolutely bewildered by me. "Uh… Well, the turians were the first species the humans ever encountered and there was a war between them called the First Contact war by your species."

I nod, fascinated by this information. "I see. What year is it?"

He blinks at you. "It's 2174."

I nod thoughtfully. "That's strange. I do seem to have travelled backwards, but based on my surroundings I'm clearly in a highly technological society, more than mine was… Maybe I am in some sort of alternate reality in which there was no Great War… No nuclear fallout… No meta-humans. I'm about a century off of the year I intended to be at but I still seem to have managed to end up in a more beneficial, albeit excessively and quite considerably uncomfortably new world. Aliens… Of all the things I've seen. I never thought I'd see aliens."

I chuckle quietly.

"Uh… mister." Urine says to me, recapturing my attention. "Can I go now?"

"No." I respond. "Stay there or I'll kill you."

I wouldn't actually kill him but lying at this point it necessary. I quickly search the two corpses, looking for anything I might be able to use. Oh? What's this I see? On the… 'Turian' I find an interesting cuff. I place it on my wrist and examine it for a button or something. Suddenly an orange holographic display engulfs my arm from my elbow to my fingertips. I see an interface here, holographic keys weird dial things. This'll take some getting used to. I used to have a wrist computer like The Giant's until it crapped out on me. This seems to be… pretty much the same concept except far more advanced. Alright my super computer, let's see what you can do.

I start fiddling with it, trying to figure out its complex interface. I give up within 30 seconds. This is hopeless. And I don't have time for this.

I continue my pat down of the two muggers and produce both of their wallets. Inside each I find several thin cards with metal edges and plastic bodies. I guess you could call them cards. They're about the size of military dog tags, maybe larger, and have digital readouts with a numerical quantity on it and there are quite a few of these cards. I recall finding some of those pre-war credit cards in my time in the wastes. Such a strange phenomenon, that little piece of plastic could buy you the world if you had the cold hard cash to cover it. Why not just cut out that middle man?

"What are these?" I ask, removing all of them from the wallets.

"Those are fucking credit chits." Urine responds with exasperation. "How the shit do you not know what credits are? It's money weirdo. Humans use that on Earth."

"Watch your mouth, Urine." I snap at him. "So this is your currency eh?"

"Yeah. The guys have been keeping those, hoarding them from me." Urine says, sounding anxious to get his hands on some of these.

"Oh? Are these what muggers are after these days?" I ask examining the cards. "These pieces of plastic and titanium?"

Urine shrugs. "I guess. Whatever weirdo, keep em, can I go now?"

"No." I respond, holding the chits out for him to see. "Which ones were theirs? Officially theirs?"

Urine's brow furrows but he points the two that belonged to the muggers out. I remove them, pocketing them. I take the rest and snap them all in half. Urine's gasp and whimpers of protest as I trash them do nothing to change my mood.

"Why?" Urine asks, with a whimper.

"They were stolen." I responds matteroffactly. "It was wrong to take those. Take money from the corpse of a criminal? Not so questionable. Now Urine, follow me."

"Stop calling me Urine." Urine says sounding annoyed as he follows me back to where they tried to mug me the first time around. "My name is Uren."

"That's what I'm saying." I respond rolling my eyes. "Urine. Uren. There's only a tiny difference, it's barely noticeable.

We arrive at the entrance to the alleyway and onto that busy city street we were at earlier. "Ok, so tell me, what is that?"

I point to a blue woman.

"That's an asari dumbass." Urine responds sounding increasingly annoyed.

"Were they ever at war with the humans?" I ask.

"No but they're on the Council, just like the turians." He responds.

"Council, eh?" I point to one of the gorilla creatures. "Is that on the Council?"

"No, that's an Elcor. They're trying to get on the Council." Urine responds. "Listen this is really weird."

"I imagine it is." I respond. "You mentioned that your family has been kidnapped?"

He nods, looking sad. "Yes. What's it to you?"

"Well, I'm going to go get them back and kill this… Dex was it?" I ask. He nods, looking nervous again. "And I'll do this, totally free of charge as long as you help me with what I need help with."

"And that would be?" He asks.

"Identifying these strange creatures." I respond. "Now tell me, are those flaps of flesh on the Elcor's face its mouth? Or is are they more of a reproductive organ of sorts."

"That's its mouth." Urine replies, glancing at me.

I point to one of the reptilian men with the fleshy horns. "What is that?"

"That's a Salarian. They're on the Council too." Urine says.

"I see, why is he buzzing around like an insect? He's moving so quickly!" I say with a small laugh.

"Salarians have extremely fast metabolisms. They only live about 50 years. So they move fast." Urine says with a shrug.

"Shame that not everything with a fast metabolism lives for so long." I comment.

Urine gives me a look. "Huh?"

"This little creature?" I ask indicating one of the fat armored dwarf that waddles by, wheezing.

"That's a Volus, they're trying to get onto the Council as well." Urine responds.

"Why does he wheeze?" I ask.

"They can't breathe our air. It's literally too clean for them." He responds.

"Funny. What is that thing?" I point out the glowing pink squid.

"That's a Hanar." Urine responds. "My people are in indebted to them. When our planet was rotting away due to our mistakes, they came and saved us and brought us to their home world: Khaje."

I nod, rubbing my chin. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. Oh, lord, there is a gigantic frog man coming this way. He looks like he means business."

"Oh shit, that's Laroke, Dex's main enforcer." Urine moves to leave but I grab his wrist. "Let me go!"

"I don't care who he is!" I snap at him. "I want to know what he is!"

"Let me go dammit! He'll kill us both." Urine exclaims.

I feel this Laroke shove me out of the way, grabbing Urine, by the throat. I fall to the ground but get back up quickly, drawing my pistol and pointing it at the frog man.

Laroke stops his one-sided conversation about missing payments to Urine and turns to look at me, beady red eyes narrowing in anger. "You're pushing your luck, human."

His voice shakes the ground. Normally that would definitely be intimidating but I'm not intimidated by the likes of him. I've fist fought irradiated bears before and won (after 4 deaths and about 32 hours).

"Dex hired me to collect the debt from Urine. I was bringing him back to him." I hiss at the frog man, Laroke, whose eyes narrow in confusion. "He's my quarry. I suggest you take your hands off of him and walk away."

"Dex hired you? You tiny human weakling?" Laroke growls at me. "You're nothing. Dex told me to get a payment or two out of this puny scaled weakling but now I think I'll just kill you and bring him back to Dex myself."

"You seem to be confused. Or really, really stupid. Maybe you have poor perceptive capabilities. Maybe all of the above." I cock my gun. "But I'm the one with the gun to your head right now."

"That? A gun?" He scoffs. "I don't even know what that is."

"It's a gun." I say sounding confident not cocky. "It's a gun and it'll rip a hole through your fucking brain."

Laroke is silent for a moment before releasing Urine and backing away. He points at me menacingly with his three fingered hand.

"You better watch yourself human." He says. "I won't forget this."

He disappears into the flow of people and I holster my pistol. Urine looks up at me shaking his head.

"Oh, you've done it now!" He exclaims. "Once Dex hears about what you did they'll come and kill me. Why'd you have to lie like that?"

"In an hour it won't matter." I say, confidently. "Take me to the Corner Club."

"But-"

"Now."

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It takes us about 15 minutes to reach the Corner Club here on the Aroch Ward, my sense of righteous justice and my moral compass overpowering my better judgment.

"This is it." Urine says. "Can I go now?"

The trip over here was quite an eye opening experience. It wasn't much of a walk but I walked through bustling streets, huge crowds of people going in and out of stores and housing complexes. This place is fantastic.

I look at him. "Yes actually. But your wife will be coming out in a bit. I'll have her quite soon, don't worry about it."

"How soon?" He asks nervously.

"Anywhere from 5 minutes to… well, if I fail I'll get to keep trying at 8 hour intervals so… we'll see. Just wait around here." I say with a shrug.

I enter the club which is pretty busy as of right now. It appears to be some sort of dancing club. People are dancing and drinking and having a good time without worrying about sexually transmitted diseases or the spread of latent radiation causing mutations. I could get used to this place.

I mean, seeing as how I'm not in a terrible atomic wasteland and I'm beyond the year 2017 and the human race is still in existence along with co-existence with alien life forms my original goal seems a bit moot at this point.

I have no doubt that my wormhole didn't take me where I wanted to go. But is this better? I'm alive and I'm in a better world. But maybe I wanted to die.

I walk towards the bar and take a seat. One of the bartenders, another turian, approaches me.

"What's your poison, pal?" He asks me.

I think. My favorite liquors might not exist anymore. I'm feeling adventurous. "Something strong. Something not human but something that won't kill me please."

He grins and walks away while I take a credit chit out of my pocket.

He returns with a tall glass of violet and slightly glowing liquid. I give him a look as I hand him the credit chit.

He grins at me. "That's going to be some funky stuff brother. It'll taste a bit strange but trust me it's about as close to the strongest stuff you humans can take."

I shrug and down as much of the glass as possible. It's sort of slimy in texture and it tastes like thick cream, very sweet. There is however a very powerful burning in my throat as I drink it down. I knock back the rest and cringe at the taste.

He grins. "Anything else buddy?"

"Just a quick question." I say. "I've got business with Dex. Where can I find him?"

"He's in his office in the back." The bartender responds, suddenly looking very serious. "Want me to call him and tell him you're here?"

I shrug. "Couldn't hurt, but I'm heading on over there now. Go for it if you want but I'm about to go talk to him anyway. Besides, it looks like you have a lot of customers to take care of."

He nods. "Alright, see you later, buddy."

I know that was a test. If I said no, he'd call Dex anyways, ask about me. If I said yes, again he'd call him. Either way he was going to call him, so I needed to give him a reason not to. I look over through the crowd, across the dance floor and spot a discreet door with one of those large frog men. From this distance, I can't tell if that's Laroke or not. I make my way towards him, moving through the crowd slowly so that I don't attract too much attention to myself. I'm making progress but there are a lot of people.

I feel a hand on my arm, fingers wrapping over my bicep but not nearly engulfing them. I look back as the person who grabbed me turns me around.

"Hey handsome." She says. A human girl. Young, no older than 22 maybe 23. "Where are you running off to?"

"Uh." I start.

"Your arms are gigantic." She says, as she looks down at the arm she's holding with both hands, running her small fingers around its girth. Her tone is difficult to make out. Seductive or friendly? I'm not sure. "I really like your outfit too."

I look down at myself and look back up at her with a quizzical expression. "Really?"

At the moment I'm currently wearing a pair of really worn out Chuck Taylors that I found pretty much pristine in a fallout bunker. My legs are covered by a pair of black BDUs that hug to my thighs and claves but hang onto my shoes and are loose enough to allow easy movement. My knees are also protected by black combat knee pads that sport padded interiors and a cap with a ridge for a better damage output if I knee somebody in the face or something. I have Catherine holstered in a leg holster on my right side with an extra magazine and her silencer in pouches with it. Sheathed on my belt on my left side, along my lower back is Vagabond, my knife.

The graphic on the t-shirt I'm wearing became kind of my symbol so I had a bunch made so I didn't have to wear the dirty old one all of the time. The original is long gone and the one I'm currently wearing is one of the duplicates. The shirt itself is black and fits rather tightly so I can wear body armor or tactical vests over it, though I don't have anything like that right now. The graphic on the t-shirt is simply a single chevron about two or three inches thick comes down from my shoulders to its point just below my sternum, on top of my diaphragm. The chevron is done in dark gun-metal grey and is semi-lustrous. On my left shoulder, the very end of the chevron is cut off, as if someone took a knife and sliced off the end of the chevron. The cut is perpendicular to the ground. The 'sliced off' bit of the chevron is still in place but it is a shiny silver in color. People started to take to that logo or design or whatever it was and equated it to me: The Vigilante/Vengeance/Prometheus/Justice/all my other monikers. I liked the idea of having a flag to fly and to call my own so I adopted the symbol.

I'm not wearing much else. I have a throat microphone that hasn't given me anything but hissing static since I got here so I turned it off on the way here.

She smiles at me and nods enthusiastically. "I love your look! It's so retro and so rugged. You look like a hunter or something. It's so different from what people wear here nowadays but it still kind of fits in. It's cool. And your face even has that rough and rugged look. It's totally hot."

I give her a quizzical look again. "Uh. Really?"

She smiles and nods again. "Totally!"

"You're uh… Excitable." I say, not very loudly.

She smiles still. "Thanks!"

She laughs. Or giggles. Probably the latter.

She places her hands on my waist and begins to dance, deftly moving her hips side to side, side stepping and stepping forward and moving with skill and precision and experience. She bites her lower lip and looks up at me with her head tilted down slightly. Even with her lavish display of her suitability as a mate (I'm thinking about this biologically) I still stand there, feeling uncomfortable and just want to get my job done.

She smiles despite my rigidity and lowers her hands to my hips trying to coax me into moving them to the side like she is. "Come on! You're so stiff, you have to loosen up a little, just have fun!"

"I've never… Danced before." I admit a little bashfully as she continues to try to coax me into dancing.

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen in surprise. "You've never danced?! Oh man, you don't know what you've been missing!"

"I've never been to a place that had dancing to be honest." I say giving her an embarrassed look.

Fewer and fewer things have embarrassed me as the years went on. Eventually the only thing I ever got embarrassed about in the slightest was when I died in a stupid way. Like tripping and braining myself on a desk even when there's no impending dangers around at all.

But this is about as far out of my comfort zone and skill set as I can be. I've never done anything remotely resembling dancing. Ever. Nor have I had any sort of social interaction with a female like this. The social interactions I've had with women include drinking with them or talking with them.

That's it. And they both usually work solely because they have few options and I'm not the worst option around.

"Well, it's easy let me help you." She turns around and arches her back, pressing her rather firm well developed buttocks against my pelvis. "Now all you need to do is lean back a little and enjoy."

I lean back slightly and she begins to gyrate and gesticulate with her rear in a rather eye opening fashion and the experience broken down is simply two parts friction, and three parts pleasing. It's been sometime since I've copulated with a female. Maybe after I finish my business here…

"Getting antsy there handsome?" She asks as the song rounds out and she turns around pressing her body up against mine, her hands resting on my chest. I instinctively rest my hands on her hips which are nicely shaped for such a petite person. "Where do you need to be so quickly?"

"I actually have some business with the club owner." I respond.

Her body is pressed up to me so much I'm starting to think her goal is to put as much of her body's surface area against me as physically possible. Her cheek which is just a little sticky from her exercise just now is pressed up against mine, her shoulder length hair is brushing my face.

"How about you call me sometime?" She asks. "I'd love for us to get to know one another better.

Without waiting for a response she presses something into my hand and sticks her tongue in my ear before turning around and disappearing into the crowd but not before giving me a practically cruel display by swaying her shapely hips from side to side for me.

I take a deep breath and look at the small paper napkin in my hand. It has a string of numerals on it along with a heart along with XOXO.

I frown at the paper napkin. She obviously didn't write this while we were together, even if I was semi-distracted by her 'dancing.'

This leaves me to deduce that she had this pre-written. Some sort of hunter of men, no doubt. Her courtesan-like behavior is unbecoming of such an attractive young lady. I should throw this away.

Yet I shove the paper in my back pocket. Why do this, Jack? In 200 years of life, are you really, not beyond such simplistic trivial, for lack of a better term, urges? Are you really going to lower yourself, with all your sophisticated intelligence, by, for lack of better phrasing, fucking a bar skank?

I shake the thought out of my head and continue on my way to the back to where the frog man is standing. As I finally manage to break through the crowd I notice that the frog man isn't the one called Laroke from earlier. There are only subtle differences, but I seem to recall that Laroke was a bit taller than this fellow, but less broad.

"What do you want human?" He asks as I reach him.

"I'm here to see Dex." I respond.

"He's not here to see you, human." The frog man snaps back. "Now fuck off."

"It's in his best interests to see me." I say. "I've got a business offer he might be interested in."

"Do you?" The frog man scoffs. "Let's hear it."

"Drugs." I say, simply. "I'm a producer. I've got better shit that nobody else produces but me. He'll be interested."

"Let's see it." He says.

I take a syringe with a narcotic concoction out of my left cargo pocket. I show the frog man but when he reaches for it, I step away and put the syringe back in my pocket. I always carry some of this with me. Powerful stuff, though it'll be a tad bit more difficult to manufacture in this world. Lord knows what sort of narcotics this world has.

The frog man frowns. "Hand it over human."

"I only have this one syringe's worth. How can I make a pitch to Dex if you sample it, frog man?" I ask him. "Besides… you're working."

He scoffs and grins, by lifting the side of his wide mouth, baring his array of large flat, teeth that remind me of a rhinoceros's and squinting his eye, at my quip. "First off, human, your 'frog man' attempt at derogatory comments is wasted. I don't know what a frog is and I could give a damn about what it is. Want a better one? Next time tell a krogan he's rocking a 'pair' and see how that turns out for you."

Based on context clues, I'm going to assume that these frog men are called krogan. Also lost to me no thanks to context clues is the insult. How is telling someone they have balls going to insult them? Maybe krogan think testicles are disgusting and horrible? Lord knows that I do. Awful things, just flopping around, waiting for something to inflict pain on you. Good for nothing. "Thanks for the tip. Now, can I see Dex?"

He nods and continues to grin. "Yeah, go on, human. Don't cause too much trouble."

I walk through the door into a hallway that goes immediately left. The club was lit with dull blue and purple lights. Some reds. And as a stark contrast this hallway and beyond are lit from above with stale white lighting, almost too bright if the lights weren't spaced so far apart. I follow the hall through another open doorway into a large room. Immediately I recognize this room as a drug factory. People with masks and elbow high gloves handle, on sterile metal tables various chemical concoctions and trays with drugs on them. Shelves containing extra supplies adorn the walls. Some of the drug workers look up at me as I pass by, making an effort to look important and that I know what I'm doing. To an extent, I do. But in a strange new world this is a little peculiar. For one, this is larger than any drug lab I've ever seen in my lives. And I know that this one isn't put together inside the ruins of a post-apocalyptic wasteland but it's still a little daunting. I also have the feeling that this simple racket business is only one of the smaller examples of the drug labs that inhabit the world I live in now. I'm sure that dedicated ones are much bigger.

Which frightens me just a bit. I actively try to destroy these but this one is bigger than any I've encountered before and I'm only one room into this racket. Who knows what's beyond this? My crime fighting days are going to be more challenging here, that's for sure.

I grin very widely at this thought. A challenge, after 200 years.

Thank God.

I reach the other end of the drug lab and proceed through another open door with a guard by it who just lazily acknowledges me. I head down another hallway with several doors, all open. I look into a few of them. A few reveal themselves to be store rooms for various things. One that I take particular note of is the break room for the guards which houses at least half a dozen guards of varying xenobiology. Some Human, some Turian, a Salarian and another Krogan.

Based on their size, I'm hypothesizing that Krogan are the popular guards, bouncers and enforcers of the world.

I reach the end of the hall with the only closed door in the whole place and guard standing by it.

The Turian stops me. "Hold on. What's your business?"

"I'm a drug manufacturer. I'm pitching to Dex." I responds.

The Turian frowns at me, rotating his mandibles down and out, lowing his brow ridge. "Is he expecting you?"

"No." I respond.

"Wait here." The Turian commands, sounding forceful. He enters the office, shutting the door behind him.

I listen through the door but don't hear anything. The only thing I hear is the dull thumping of the music from the club and the noises of the television in the break room.

The Turian returns and nods me inside. "Be quick."

I nod back and enter Dex's office which is a poorly lit and spacious room. On the right wall there is a personal bar and a large bed with a haphazardly arranged set of pillows and blankets. I take note of several pairs of handcuffs on the bed, all half hooked to the bed's frame. The far wall across from the entrance is mostly a large window that curves slightly, overlooking a fair amount of the bustling city in the distance. And to my left is a security system with a large TV broken into smaller viewing windows of security cameras that are watching the club.

Dex's desk is in the center of the room. It's overly wide and gaudy. Dex is sitting in his chair, scanning credit chit after credit chit with his holographic wrist thing, before discarding them into a waste bin. He picks up a bright silver one in the center of his desk before he looks up at me. He's dressed ridiculously, lots of colors and atypical clothing from what I've seen. Golden chains hang round his neck and he has several rings on his fingers as well as several piercings along his left mandible, golden rings with some precious stones set into them. I take a seat in one of the low lying chairs across from his desk.

"What do you want?" He asks, sounding impatient. "My guard said you're a drug producer. I'm sure on your way in here you saw my lab, one of the largest drug rackets on Aroch Ward. Clearly we can produce our own shit, but I'm not a stupid guy. I'm a businessman. I know an opportunity when I see one and so far… not impressed. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. What do you got for ol' Dex?"

I produce the syringe of narcotics. "It's call Jet. This is the injection, but I'm working on making it an inhalant. It'll trip the shit out of you, boss."

Dex scoffs. "That's all well and good, but I mean, will it kill me?"

I'm thrown off by his bluntness. Can he see through my ruse? I decide not to break it and continue to play along. "How do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I mean is it only for levo aminos, cause if it is then I don't want it."

Levo amino… levo amino acid? … This alien's DNA is not levo amino based. His DNA turns the other way to dextro… Interesting. So this tall fellow here cannot eat chocolate. An odd conclusion, but a conclusion all the same. If so, this narcotic cocktail could possibly kill him. Or do nothing to him whatsoever. Better not try it.

In the blink of an eye I snatch one of the objects on his desk that looks heavy and hurl it at his head. The object connects, bounces off his head and drops to the ground with a loud thud. His head lolls back off the back of his chair. I hope I didn't kill him yet.

I vault the desk and sit on the edge of it, rotating his chair towards me. I'm about to feel for his pulse when I realize that he's an alien and it might not work the same for him. Well… He's bleeding.

That tells me he has some sort of aortic pump. I put my ear to his chest and hear some beating. Alright. Turians have hearts somewhere in their torso I think. I search his pockets and find some keys and run over to his bed where I unlock the handcuffs and hook them on my belt loop. I look at the door and move over to that to find a lock of some kind. I do, and dead bolt the door shut. I then move towards the bar but hear raps of the door.

"Boss?" I hear the Turian guard call, his voice slightly muffled by the door. "Boss? Why'd you lock the door? Boss, you alright? I'm… I'm getting help."

I set about popping the corks off of some of the bottles and smelling them for alcoholic content. I find the strongest ones and cap them off. I take armfuls of the rest and drop them all by the door way. I return to the bar and take the strong alcohols to Dex's desk. I place them on top and sit on the edge of the desk. I handcuff his wrists to the arm rests of the chair and then handcuff his ankles together. I then use the last handcuff to secure his restrained ankles to one of the legs of the chair.

I clear my throat and readjust my seat before uncorking a bottle of alcohol and pouring it slowly on his bleeding forehead.

He winces and as the alcohol flows over his eyes, nose and mouth he sputters awake.

"I'll talk and you'll listen." I say, returning the bottle to the desk.

"You're dead you fucking idiot!" Dex growls at me. "Once my boys get in here-"

"I'll be done with you by then." I say, drawing my knife. "Now, I'll talk and you'll listen and when I ask you a question you'll answer in a means that I find satisfactory. If you do not answer in a satisfactory manner, I will start cutting. Now: Where is Urine's wife?"

"What?" He asks in confusion. "That's what this is fucking about?! Fuck you! Ahh! AAAAAGH!"

I drag the blade across the crook of his elbow and then let the blade bisect his bicep. "Same question."

"She's in the fucking drug lab!" He exclaims, hissing through the pain. He starts to laugh. "I-I've been using her as a tester for the drugs, hahahaha! She'll be hooked her whole life now! HahahaaaaaaaaAAAAGH! AAAAAAGH AAAAHAHAHAAAAGH! AAAAGH AHAOOOOOWWW! OOOOWWWW!"

I plunge my blade into his forearm, cutting him off mid laugh and rip it towards his hand before withdrawing it. I set about cutting some of his clothing off of his body, making long strips that I set on the desk.

"Oh you're so fucking dead…" He hisses, his body quivering involuntarily. He continues to soliloquy even as I remove bits of his clothing from his torso. "So fucki-"

I interrupt him by stabbing him through the throat. I leave the knife there as I start up capping the bottles and shoving the cloth into their heads. I tip them and soak the rags with booze.

I remove the blade wiping it off on his pant leg before sheathing it. I shove his limp corpse and the chair away with a push from my foot before kneeling in front of his desk. I start opening the drawers. In one I find a bunch of bags of what I assume are drugs. Useless to me right now. In another I find some personal grooming products. And in one I find what appears to be a trio of massive pistols.

I remove one of the three identical weapons and examine it. It looks roughly like a revolver, with a curved, ergonomic, soft grip, a cylinder with a glowing red ring on the front inside of a chamber in the center of the weapon above the trigger. In front of the chamber, the barrel, with a ported rail on top, is thick, almost as wide as the grip and it's tall, covering the length of the chamber. It has front and rear sights on it and along with that I find another three more cylinders with red rings in the drawer. Well, it's clearly a firearm of some sort. I'm not even going to pretend I know how to use this. It took me weeks to figure out energy weapons and don't even get me started on things like power armor and exoskeletons. I'll take the time to figure out this new weapon later. I stow the revolver-like weapons all in my waist band at my lower back and drop the extra cylinders in my cargo pocket.

Finally I take his credit chit off of his desk. It's platinum in color as opposed to the blue ones already in my pocket I examine the reader display for the credit chit. That's a lot of money. More than a lot of money actually. Well… maybe it isn't but it's more than there were on the chits of those two muggers I killed. I pocket the credit chit and return to Dex's corpse as a thought pops into my head. I remove the cuff that displays his holographic thing and put it in my cargo pocket. It might come in handy later on.

I then vault over the desk again and sit on the edge waiting, listening to the banging on the door.

I take one of the bottles and take my lighter out of my pocket. It's an old silver lighter with a crosshairs on it. There's a story behind the lighter but I'll hold on to it. I flip open the lighter and light it, ready to light my Molotov cocktail.

The door is rammed open by a krogan and I light the Molotov and throw it. The homemade throwable weapon explodes, lighting the alcohol I dumped on the floor ablaze and instantly immolating the krogan. I grab another Molotov and light it and hop off the desk to get a better throwing posture as I throw it at the guards in the doorway.

My throw was slightly off as it crashes into the door frame but it splashes on the guards with burning alcohol and I draw my pistol, lighting the last cocktail with my free hand. I pocket my lighter and take the Molotov as I advance on the guards in the doorway. I shoot one in the face as he backs away from the flames. The next heard the shot and is trying to take cover which his cohorts do as well.

I chuck the Molotov through the doorway and it explodes on the perfect spot, engulfing the remaining guys in liquid flames. The smoke produced by the smoldering guards sets off the fire alarm and sprinkler system, dousing me in water. I shiver and leap through the flames once they're low enough. I run into the drug lab, the workers are freaking out.

"Where's Urine's wife?!" I shout, my voice booming and carrying to the corners of the room.

I grab one of the workers and shove my pistol still a bit hot from shooting in his face. "Where is she?!"

He points at a door and I drag him over there with me. I throw him into it and point my gun at him. "Open it. Now."

He unlocks the door and immediately sprints away as it opens. I keep my pistol trained through the doorway. Anything could be behind here. But the only person inside is a quivering drell, her body clearly feminine compared to her husband's. She's thin and her scales are faded and pale in some places. Sick probably. Malnourished.

These men deserve a harsher punishment but administer it I will not. I've sworn off death by torture. It's cruel and they deserve mercy as much as punishment.

I move into the small room and place my hand gently on her arm. She twitches but doesn't fight me nor cower from my touch.

"I'm here to save you." I say.

She looks up at me. Large eyes meeting mine. I help her to her feet and let her put her weight on me as I move her out of the drug lab and towards the main club. Upon entering the main club, I notice that it has been vacated and in a hurry it seems. Trash and debris litter the place. Water still pours from the ceiling and it pools in the dance floor.

I notice a large figure enter the club through the main entrance. Laroke spots me easily and glares at me. He bellows and charges at me.

"I'm going to rip you to shreds!" He roars as he bull rushes me.

I fire off a couple of shots but his thick form absorbs them with little damage. In an effort to protect her, I throw the drell female to the side and jump up in the air throwing my hands down on the krogan's shoulders as he rams into me. I take the brunt of the hit to the gut, knocking the wind out of me but doing little else. I push off his shoulders and throw myself towards the ground where I roll as he charges into the wall. There's a loud bang as I return to my feet, shooting the krogan a few more times in his massive back.

He growls, turning around as the bullets continue to strike him. He starts walking towards me coving his face with his arms as I continue to shoot at him. I back away, throwing furniture in his path as he approaches, finally my magazine runs empty and I quickly holster it, drawing my knife.

He uncovers his face, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his teeth grinding as he approaches me. He swings an arm for me which I duck under before scrambling between his legs quickly. I turn around and slash at the backs of his thighs near to his joints to try and get some result. No such luck other than his thighs quivering in pain. I stab him in his lower back where his kidneys would be if he were human and then withdraw, circling and sidestepping to avoid him as he turns around, swinging his arms like a madman, howling in rage the whole time. I think I'm just pissing him off.

I stub under his ribcage close to his armpit before leaping onto his back, using the knife to help hold me to him.

I get a grip on the edge of the large hump on his back and begin stabbing and ripping at it with my knife. He grunts and growls trying the throw me off as orange-red blood splashes out over my arms getting washed away shortly thereafter by the sprinkler system. This isn't doing anything. I pull myself forward towards his head and neck, keeping a hold on his hump for leverage.

I examine his thrashing head and see that in addition to his massive thick bone headplate there are bone-like ridges running back from it down his neck, further protecting him. Well shit! I then notice a small gap between the ridge and his headplate and ram my knife into the gap.

He freezes instantly and doesn't even make an attempt to reach for me. Looks like a found an interesting spot.

"Don't you dare, human." Laroke hisses at me.

"Have you ever killed anyone, krogan?" I ask him. "Have a pair on you, krogan?"

He growls but doesn't make a move to pull me off of him. "You better just get off me. I'll even let you go because I'm so generous.

I move my knife, finding his headplate shifts rather dramatically forwards. It looks like I can just pop this thing right off then. Just like an arm from its socket. "I asked you a question."

"Of course I've killed people dammit!" He gasps, twitching as I move the knife a bit more. "A lot! Who fucking cares?!"

"I do." I say, wrenching my blade forwards, popping his headplate off of his forehead with a sickening crack. He howls in agony, trying to hold it in place as stumbles about. I walk around to his front and drive my blade into his head from below, ramming it through his mouth and nasal cavity and into his brain. He freezes from his howling and stumbling, his eyes losing their blood red color before he topples over to the side. I rip my knife out of his head and wipe it off on his clothes. I approach the drell girl again, picking her up and carrying her out of the club. I head over to where I told Urine to wait for me, in a nearby alley and enter it.

I call out to him and he pokes his head out from behind a dumpster, his eyes going wider than normal.

"Oh by the Enkindlers!" He gasps, tears welling up in his eyes. "You actually did it!"

I nod and hand the drell girl over to him. "Yes I did."

"Why would you help me?" He asks, baffled. "I tried to mug you, steal everything you had."

"Yes, but you failed, and you'd never done anything like that before." I say. "That makes you redeemable in my eyes. I've seen many men turn to crime to try and help those they loved. Does that make them innocent? No, and it doesn't justify anything, but you aren't a criminal. But that man in there was and he needed to be stopped and an innocent person needed to be saved. I did what I had to do, nothing more, nothing less. I will say this though: You came close to a life of crime. Don't go down that path again or you won't see mercy from me again."

"I understand." He says no longer sounding threatened by me. "Thank you, stranger. I don't know how I can thank you."

I shrug. "No need to thank me at all. It's time I left. I need to find answers."

He nods. "Good luck."

I nod back to him and turn around checking both ways before walking off, away from the club where I see numerous blue, silver and black armored men and women collecting, armed and ready. An organized, well supplied law enforcement agency. I wonder if they're private or part of the governing body. Which reminds me: I don't know what governing body that might be.

Urine talked much about a 'Council.' Perhaps they're in charge? And apparently I'm in some place called the Citadel. I'm curious as to where that actually is. I wander somewhat aimlessly, following the flow of the crowds. I'm standing out due to my extremely wet appearance however. I have to get new clothes.

I find a clothing store quickly that caters to humans. I nod at the store clerk who gives me a puzzled look before shaking his head and returning to read his magazine.

I select a fresh change of clothing that I like before purchasing them.

"Is it alright if I change in the dressing room and wear these out?" I ask him. "I'm a little wet."

"Yeah, no shit." He responds, handing me back my credit chit. "Go for it buddy."

I walk into the clothing store with my new garments and strip down. I put on fresh underwear which feels positively heavenly. I've never had fresh new garments before. It's absolutely exceptional. Next I pull on a pair of black socks and next a pair of soft black pants that are slim on the thigh and straight on the leg. I usually don't like to wear tight clothing like this but I'm not in any kind of situation to be picky. Next I pull on some black and dark green apparently 'trendy' shoes that do little for me other than look sort of nice.

Next I pull on a tight long sleeved thin white shirt with a slightly low crew collar and pull on a dark green military/utility jacket with a black hood over my shirt. I stow all my wet clothes and gear, including the three large revolver-like guns, in the plastic shopping bags then put those into the black backpack I purchased as well.

I throw the backpack over my shoulders and zip the jacket up partway, putting the hood up as well. I take a second to reload Catherine with my last 15 rounds, being sure to make sure they're both dry before putting her in my jacket pocket. I take Vagabond in his sheath and loop it through my dark brown leather belt which is a bit damp but not too bad. I cover the knife with my jacket and exit the dressing room.

I exit the store quickly. It's a lot of walking before I realize that I don't know where I'm going, I'm just following the paths. It's still more walking before I even start thinking about anything. So many questions, so few answers. First I need to know how to use my new stuff. Using my credit chit seems as simple as them scanning it with one of those holographic wrist things. I look at mine realizing I don't even know how to use it. I notice a vendor shouting to the crowds about something, it looks like he's using his holographic wrist doodad to show his customer something.

I approach the vendor, watching him show his customer something on his holographic display. Some sort of high intensity game or video by my assumption and based on the sheer number of explosions on the screen. The customer shakes their head and leaves. The vendor notices me, smiling. He's a salarian, one of the tall lanky reptilian men but his smile is quite recognizable as a smile, as opposed to other aliens I've met so far.

"Hello, sir, are you interesting in one of our games?" He asks. "I've got tons that I can sell you."

"Actually." I say walking up and leaning on the counter, dropping my hood. "I'm pretty new to these, just got one today."

I show him the cuff on my wrist.

He nods understandingly. "I see! Well, I can show you the ropes and if you're interested, how about considering getting one of our games."

"Show me how to use this and some cool tricks and I'll buy more than one game." I reply, not actually interested in games but willing to repay him for the help.

"Well, your omni-tool has so many features I can't show you all of them." He says, opening his own and instructing you to do so.

"Er…" I mumble, scratching my head as I look at my wrist for a switch or something.

The salarian chuckles. "Hey buddy, don't worry about it. It's hard for some people to pick up. The cuff senses your nerve signals, most people keep opening it on its default setting, you just rotate your wrist in, close your hand lightly and touch the heel of your hand with each finger one by one."

I do as he says and the holographic display of my omni-tool lights up.

"There you go." He says with a grin. "Now just open your hand, palm flat."

He then proceeds to show me how to scan things with the scanner and readers around my hand, and then he shows me how to use the interfaces involved with my left hand. He shows me how I can use my omni-tool to surf the 'extranet' which seems to be some sort of vast improved version of the pre-war internet that I heard so much about. He shows me how to use the various applications on it and how I can program my omni-tool to access other things like my bank account to transfer funds to or from credit chits and he also shows me how to use my codex which all omni-tools are programmed with in case I have any more specific inquiries about it. It seems this codex is a one stop shop to all my information needs. If I don't know what something is, I can scan it with my omni-tool and my codex will identify it. This will be an invaluable tool.

As he looks through my omni-tool he frowns. "Did you buy this used?"

I nod, finding his story to be a bit less sketchy than mine.

"No problem, let's just reset the settings here for you." He says doing so. "This way at least it can register to you and not to anybody else.

"Also uh…" The vendor looks side to side for eavesdroppers despite the dozens of people moving around us. I lean in to listen to him. "I'm not supposed to show people how to do this but… I like you buddy, you're cool people. And you… you don't look like you work in an office behind a desk if you know what I mean. The military, C-Sec, mercenaries and some colonists have special programs that they punched into their omni-tools. See, remember how I told you about the micro-fabricator?"

How could I forget? Apparently this thing on my wrist can actually create almost everything from tools to ammunition. Not food though. Because that would be too easy. Right? Also this guy seems to be eliciting some illegal activity here. I know I'm all for righteous justice and everything but most specifically I end criminals who directly cause the deaths or injuries of the innocent. This guy is selling me illegal materials. Could his actions have cause the deaths of others? Maybe, but very indirectly. He doesn't seem like a bad person to me. I'll hear him out. Besides, there's no specific code of law I follow, more like a moral compass. Murder, rape, theft, narcotics trade, slavery, arson, extortion, all the violent crimes which directly and negatively impact people, those are the criminals I hunt. Illegal weapons trade? That's a bit iffy for me. If the weapons trader sells in large quantities to slaver groups, obviously that's not cool, but if they sell under the table weapons that aren't specifically legal but don't really have the intention of hurting people.

"Well, there are programs that can actually use those micro fabricators as weapons." He closes his fist and the end of the omni-tool creates an orange double sided blade with holes from the tip to the base at his knuckles around his fist, making a very large and deadly punch blade. He opens his hand and the blade disintegrates into an orange sparkling powder. He turns his hand over and flattens his hand and shows me as a device similar to a crossbow of the same luminescent orange as the omni-tool and blade appears, a small missile with a flashing red tip already loaded. He keys in something and both disintegrate.

"What were those?" I ask.

"The first one was called an omni-blade. They're totally customizable, if you know the right programs, and totally deadly. They're not really ever used much because of the effectiveness of modern guns but it's still a useful tool to have for us common folk, in my opinion." He explains. "And the other one is a military and law enforcement combat program called Incinerate. It makes that crossbow you saw to shoot an incendiary projectile at your enemies. It's upgradable if you can get your hands on the programs. Totally deadly. There are other kinds that I don't have, like Cryo Blast which can freeze things solid or Overload which is designed to overwhelm electric systems, everything from nervous systems to electronics with a blast of electricity."

"Badass." I say with a grin.

"I know right." He says leaning back. "So, are you interesting in buying any games?"

It takes me a second but I catch on to what he's talking about. "Oh! Yeah! I'd love to get my hands on both the ones you showed me."

"Cool man. It'll be a bit pricy, just warning you now." He fishes out a pair of tiny black cards in cases. "Here guy, just pop these into your cuff, and it'll download in a second flat. It's going to be 4,000 credits, though."

I take out the platinum credit chit and use my omni-tool to reduce the quantity on it to 4,000 exactly, the rest going into a bank account. I'll have to move that money soon. I'll put it back on the chit and then at a later time I'll use an alias to open up my own bank account. I'm positive they'll freeze the assets of the dead guy this omni-tool used to belong to very soon.

He scans the chit and I take it back, returning the funds to it before pocketing it.

He nods with a grin. "Enjoy."

I decide to utilize the programs now, plugging them into a tiny slot in my omni-tool. A red light turns green after just a second after each use."

"Also I noticed that you don't have the earpiece." He produces a slender device that vaguely resembles that old blue tooth communicator that I used to use. This one however doesn't have a microphone attached to it. "I'll sell you this high end one at a discount, just 80 creds. Also I have several options for a microphone. I can have a small attachment for your earpiece which is the most common one…"

"Do you have a throat mic?" I ask, pantomiming touching my neck.

He nods and grins. "Into that tactical shit, huh? Yeah I have a really nice one by Ariotec same as your earpiece so it'll link up no problem. I'll show you how to calibrate these to your omni-tool."

I pay for the new tech and put the earpiece on over my ear. It's black, small, comfortable and slender enough that it's barely noticeable, just a few small blue lights that indicate it's on. The most obvious part of it is a thin black protrusion that extends towards my temple slightly with a pale blue light at the end. The throat mic matches the ear piece and it is also barely noticeable, just a pair of small blue lights just above my clavicle.

"The earpiece can also sense your neurological activity and it uses your omni-tool to compute that data at light speed. Basically it predicts what you want based on your neurological activity and tells your omni-tool that information. So it'll be easier to use your games once your earpiece and omni-tool have collected enough data on you."

I nod, impressed. "That's kick ass."

"Right?" He says with a grin. "Anyways, your cuff, earpiece and throat mic can actually work together to detect your vitals as well, as if your tech could be any cooler."

"Technology these days." I say, more to myself than him. "Thanks buddy. I'll probably come around soon. What was your name?"

"My name is pretty hard for humans to get right but it does apparently starts with a sound coequally similar to one of your alphabet so I usually have humans just call me B."

"B?" I ask.

He shrugs and nods. "Yeah. It's actually Bahrecotoremferacmarahaverajahmadin, but B is just easier to say."

"I'm not even going to try." I respond shaking my head. "That must be a bitch to put down in writing."

He shrugs. "Well shit I didn't pick it."

I laugh. "See you around B. The name's Jack, by the way."

"Got it, boss." He responds with a grin. "See ya."

I continue on, moving through the crowds. I notice an alien I've never seen before now and I get close and scan him with my omni-tool as I pass by the insect-like creature.

Reading…

Entry: Citadel

Sub Entry: Keepers

The Keepers are a mysterious insectoid species that have existed on the Citadel since before it was discovered by the Asari. Initially, the Asari believed that the Keepers were its inhabitants and creators, based on their observations of the meticulous maintenance they perform on it. Upon their initial attempts to make contact however, they would not respond, simply continuing their single minded goal of maintaining the Citadel. Eventually, the Keepers were deemed harmless by the Council and eventually ignored all together as they perform direly needed maintenance on the Citadel itself. Nobody knows where the Keepers come from or where they go when they aren't around or who or what directs them to tasks. Initially the Asari attempted to capture the Keepers for scientific study. However it was soon discovered that capturing a Keeper to study them is impossible due to a biological defense mechanism that causes them to quite literally melt when they believe to be in danger of capture. It is believed the Keepers are created deep within the unreachable bowels of the Citadel and are non-sentient, simply programmed to perform tasks that the Citadel needs to be done. The Council has banned any actions taken to disturb or disrupt the Keepers from their work and any interaction with them whatsoever is both illegal and ill-advised.

Well that's suspicious.

I frown when I recall something I read in that entry. The Citadel was discovered by the Asari? Where exactly is this Citadel?

I bump into something and stumble back, rubbing my nose, looking at the glass wall I ran into. My eyes widen as I gaze through it. In the distance beyond lavender and blue clouds is a bright purple mass of hot cosmic gasses. A nebula?

But…

I open the main entry for the Citadel and speed read. Holy fuck. I'm not on Earth at all. This is a space station, billions of light-years away from Earth…

Well… I think it's safe to say that my attempt at time travel did not work like I thought it would.

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Author's Note:

Alright so a few important points to mention about this story now that we're a little into it: This story takes place a LONG time before the events of the first Mass Effect Game. We're not talking a couple of years we're talking a few decades. That being said, this story will be MOSTLY original characters. For the sake of familiarity, I have included more than a couple familiar faces in places where it's appropriate. Cameos, that sort of thing. Those will come when they come. This story is not being updated as it's being written. The chapters have been pre-written and are proofread. At this point, I am about 12 chapters ahead of you. All feedback is appreciated as long as it actually is feedback. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review and have a wonderful day.

~love, ComaKill