Chapter 2: The Lead

"How is Detective Chellick doing?"

"He's a little scuffed, but he'll be back to chasing bad guys in a couple of weeks."

Lakota and Liara were lying together on the bed in the Commander's quarters. Both wore their comfy clothes for the informal occasion - black silk lounge pants and grey tank top for Lakota and matching purple sleepwear for Liara. The satin fabric of the asari's clothing was as smooth as the Spectre's, but not as thin.

Liara nuzzled her face into her lover's neck. "Did he have any information on Finch?"

"No." Lakota tightened her embrace, pressing their bodies closer together. "Nothing other than the digital image he'd sent. He was ambushed while on the way to meet me, but doesn't remember anything until he woke up in the hospital. The doctor said he'd been drugged with a turian designed sedative."

"Goddess. Why did they go after him?"

"It seems someone is trying to keep people away from Finch. Whether it's Finch directly or somebody else remains to be seen."

"And the human who tried to attack you?"

"Which one?" Lakota chuckled.

Liara smiled, and then playfully squeezed the Spectre. "Do not play dumb now, Commander."

"Noted, Doctor." Grinning, Lakota turned her head and placed a quick kiss upon her lover's cheek. "Mario Torres is being held by C-Sec on kidnapping and assault charges. He's not saying much now though. If I had to guess, C-Sec won't get any more information out of him."

"So what is next?"

"Wrex is checking with his contact about Las Catacumbas."

"Do you have any idea what that place is?"

The commander sighed ruefully. "Not yet, but I'm sure I will soon."

"That is not much to go on."

"True. But at least it's something."

"So… that's it?" asked Liara. "You wait for Wrex?"

"Well, this doesn't exactly involve the scientific method, Doctor. Basically, I poke around, ask questions and see what happens."

"Is this known as Shepard's Method?"

"Well, in forensic circles it's known as 'I don't have any idea what the hell I'm doing,' …but don't tell anyone. It's only known among the elite members."

Liara raised herself up on her forearm and then looked down upon her lover with a questioning eyebrow arched. "And this works for you?"

Lakota grinned mischievously. "So far."

"When will you be meeting up with Wrex?"

"We'll meet in the morning. It sounded like he wanted to reintroduce himself to his… um… friend tonight. Alone."

"Good."

Lakota frowned. "Good?"

"Yes." Liara rolled on top of her lover, so they were face to face, toe to toe, and then leaned in, tenderly brushing her lips upon Lakota's. "That gives me plenty of time to explore multiple applications for Shepard's Method."

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The following morning, after being briefed by Lieutenant Alenko on the status of the Normandy's repairs, Lakota met up with Wrex outside the Flux. Although it was 0700, the establishment was packed full of drunken patrons and the mingled scent of stale beer, sweat and manufactured fog whiffed through the entrance each time the door was opened.

"Wrex."

"Shepard."

Lakota motioned her head in the direction of the bar. "Are we meeting your contact in there?"

"No. She wanted to make sure it was just you and I, so some of her hired help will be following us as we walk to meet her."

"I'll try not to look worried."

"And remember not to scream when the shooting starts."

"Oh, don't worry about me; I'll be using you as a shield."

Wrex chuckled and then started walking. Lakota fell into stride next to him, grateful that she had chosen to wear her Mercenary armor for the meeting. Since becoming a Spectre, the well-worn burgundy suit was a standard precaution when entering unknown situations.

The human and krogan strolled down the artificially illuminated corridors, which were moderately filled with a varied assortment of individuals who were either coming from or going to work. As they continued their trek, Lakota became aware of two asari who were following them at a discrete distance.

"So who are we meeting?" Lakota asked.

"Her name is Lysandra."

"How do you know her?"

"She's a former commando who was hired to protect some stolen merchandise. I was hired to get it back."

"I doubt that went well for her." Their path took them upward toward the Presidium level. This surprised Lakota, she assumed they'd be meeting Wrex's contact in a lower 'back-alley' type of Ward - like some dark noire vid.

"It didn't. But it took five days, twenty-five hundred rounds of ammo and two ships to get it back. If I hadn't shutdown her ship's life support, it would have gone on longer."

"What is it with you going toe-to-toe with asari commandos?" questioned Lakota incredulously.

"Must be my good looks."

"And charming personality," added the Spectre.

"That, too."

"And she lasted five days?"

"She did."

"Impressive," said Lakota. "So you respect her."

Wrex nodded his head. "And she looks good naked."

"That's always helpful." Lakota looked behind to make sure those tailing them hadn't gotten lost. "What's she doing on the Citadel?"

"You ever hear of Aria T'Loak?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Only if you've ever been to that ass end of space." Wrex paused momentarily as if tangled up in a thought. "Aria is an asari who started out as a dancer and ended up as the de facto ruler of a space station in the Terminus system known as Omega."

"I've heard of the station. A haven for the less reputable inhabitants of the universe."

Wrex nodded his head again in silent agreement. "Lysandra wants what Aria has."

"A space station?"

"A reputation."

"Ahhhhh… there are easier ways to get one of those."

"She'd prefer to get it by killing people," said Wrex.

"I see why you like her. Do you trust her?"

"No," replied the krogan battlemaster, "but she owes me a favor."

Their path took them onto the Presidium - the massive park-like complex which contained offices for various branches of the galactic government, as well as embassies for all the races represented in the Citadel. Normally the lush, panoramic views showcased scenery bustling with activity, but because of the catastrophic wreckage caused by the Reaper ship ramming into the space station, nearly all zones of the Presidium had been quarantined and registered off-limits to personnel.

Wrex and Lakota walked onto a large, open platform that had avoided any damage from the battle. The Spectre recognized the area immediately. This was a restricted area where the Embassy offices were housed. Armed guards met their advance, but let them pass when Lakota flashed her Spectre ID. The pair continued up another staircase leading to the second floor.

Voicing her curiosity, Lakota said, "Odd place to meet an information broker."

"I never said she was broker."

When they reached the top of the stairs, Lakota saw an angry looking krogan standing in front of the door closest to the stairs on left-hand side of the hallway. He was a few inches taller than Wrex and just as stocky. The shotgun in his hands added to the angry appearance.

Lakota stopped in front of the towering krogan. "Hi."

The guard ignored the Spectre.

Wrex stepped up to the door, and then gave the guard a sideways glance. "Kolrak."

"Wrex," replied the guard. "She's expecting you."

"Then stop gawking and let us in."

Kolrak grunted before opening the hatch.

Lakota made it three paces through the door and then asked, "Friend of yours, Wrex?"

"He's not that interesting."

The entry hall went all the way back to a stained glass window at the end of the complex. The hall was vaulted, two stories high and sparsely hung with some expensive looking tapestries. Another stairway went to the second floor, but Lakota followed Wrex who continued down the hallway toward the stained glass.

Lysandra's office was at the end of the hallway where the corridor opened up to a large room with vaulted ceilings and an outer wall composed entirely of glass. Large stained glass panes were mixed among panes of clear glass which - instead of showing off a panoramic view of the Presidium - now captured the images of repair crews and piles of wreckage. The office itself was sparse and sort of streamlined-looking. There was a desk comprised of a trendy black metal frame and glass tabletop while some black and white photos hung on the walls. A couch, lounge chair and coffee table were situated in the corner of the room to give the appearance of solitude. Each piece of furniture was framed with the same black metal as the desk, but the couch and chair were padded with overstuffed white cushions while the tabletop was made out of a colorful array of mosaic tile work.

There were three asari in the room, one behind the desk, sitting in a black leather office chair and the other two lounging on the sofa and chair. Shepard noticed that the eyes of the ones lounging had locked onto her and Wrex the moment they stepped into the room. Their vigilant gaze conflicted with the ease of the relaxed poses. Each of them was dressed in matching, form-fitting light armor. Standard asari commando issue.

The asari at the desk looked up from her work and then eased back into her chair. She was dressed to kill in a completely different way. Tight, black leather pants tucked into high, black boots and on top she wore a loose white silk halter. The white color elegantly contrasted the blueness of her skin - which, to Lakota's eye, seemed slightly darker than that of Liara, while the sleeveless aspect effectively displayed well-toned arms. Like all asari Lakota had seen, in human terms, she was very good-looking.

"Well, well, well… Wrex," said the asari behind the desk. "It has been a long time."

Wrex nodded his head. "Yes, it has, Lysandra."

"When I received your message asking for my help, my curiosity wouldn't let me say no." Every syllable was drawled out to its sensual peak and each word and phrase seemed saturated with sexual innuendo. "And then when you mentioned being in the company of a Spectre…"

Up until that time, Lakota had the distinct impression that she hadn't been noticed by Lysandra at all, but then the asari's gaze locked onto her with an animal-like ferocity. Lysandra stood and walked around the desk, stopping when she was inches away from Lakota. Her eyes carefully inspected the human before she spoke. "You're a Spectre?"

"Yeah." Lakota shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "Normally I wear a special uniform with a big S on the front, but it's at the cleaners. Blood stains wreak havoc on clothing."

"And you carry a gun?"

"Yes, I do."

"You ever shoot anyone with it?"

"Mostly I use it to get a date."

The asari chuckled in amusement. "Wrex told me you were a smartass. He also told me you want to get into Las Catacumbas."

"I heard it was a great vacation spot."

"For humans, maybe." Lysandra's gaze continued to rove slowly across Lakota's form as though peeling the Spectre out of her armor, piece by piece. "Why do you want access?"

Lakota looked at Wrex who shrugged his shoulders as if to say "I don't trust her, but do what you will." Frowning slightly, the Spectre turned back to the asari and said, "I'm looking for a human named Tomas Finch."

"What do you want with him?"

Lakota smiled. "That's between him and me."

Returning a coy smile, Lysandra purred, "Fair enough, but what do I get out of this information exchange?"

"The satisfaction of helping someone in need?"

The asari licked her lips before saying, "You don't look like someone in need."

"Thanks. I workout."

Wrex took a step forward. "You give us the information we need and the debt between us is paid."

A look of surprise splashed across Lysandra's face, but she recovered quickly and then paused as though she was deep in thought about the offer. Lakota knew it was just a dramatic ruse. A technique used by someone who was trying to play the game, but who had already revealed their hand.

"Okay," said the asari. "I'll tell you what you need to know."

Lakota opened up the questioning. "What is Las Catacumbas?"

"It's a human-run cesspool of drugs, illegal gambling and fenced goods. Think of it as a floating black market with live entertainment."

"Floating?" questioned Wrex.

Lysandra turned her gaze toward the krogan battlemaster. "Las Catacumbas has existed on the Citadel for many years. Ever since humans were able secure their own sector in the Wards. To keep C-Sec from discovering their location, Las Catacumbas moves every few days."

Wrex nodded then asked, "Who runs it?"

"The humans."

"That was really helpful," quipped Lakota. "Insightful, too. Come on Wrex, let's go round up all the humans."

Squinting her eyes in annoyance, Lysandra offered, "A human, anti-alien group known as the Reds is rumored to be running it." A sly smile curled on her lips as she prodded, "Ever hear of them, Commander Shepard?"

Lakota crossed her arms defiantly and met the asari's gaze. Neither blinked nor looked away. "I'm guessing you already know that answer to that."

Lysandra waved her hand dismissively in the air as she leaned back on her desk. "It's of no concern to me, Commander." Another sly smile graced the asari's lips. "Human's have always been a step behind the Citadel races."

Wrex got the discussion back on track. "If it's constantly moving, how do people find it?"

"Honestly," answered Lysandra, "that part is ingenious in its simplicity. There are a handful of members who know the exact location and entry password. And the password changes with each new location. These lieutenants find people who want in and then exchange the information for a… price."

"What price?" asked Lakota.

"It may be money, it may be information or it may be," the asari bit her lower lip, "...something more physical. Or so I have been told." Lysandra's grin reminded Lakota of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"And how is it that an asari can get us into this place?" Lakota's skepticism was carried in her voice. "The humans who are rumored to run it aren't known to be open-mined when it comes to dealing with other species."

Lysandra pushed off of the table top then moved around the desk and sat down in her chair. "My business allows me certain… privileges that others don't have."

"And what is it that you do?" questioned Lakota.

"A little of this, a little of that."

"It's been my experience that people doing that kind of work usually operate in… dingier environments…" Lakota spread her arms out as if embracing the room. "…not Embassy suites."

Lysandra's head motioned to the documents hanging on the wall behind her. "I have doctorates in business administration, cross-cultural finance and interspecies economics from The University of Serrice on Thessia."

"So you're smart."

The asari nodded her head slowly. "Very."

"So you'll be able to get us into Las Catacumbas?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic."

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Wrex and Lakota were walking through the Citadel corridors heading toward the Normandy's docking bay. Because of the damage to the Citadel, there was no direct route from the Presidium to the bay, so they had to take a few detours through the lower wards.

"You think she was telling the truth?" asked Lakota.

Wrex replied, "There's only one way to find out."

"True enough."

As the two turned a corner in one of the dimly illuminate hallways, they immediately found themselves surrounded by six armed humans - four men and two women. Each wore a red garment and had a pistol pointed at the pair.

"Friends of yours, Shepard?"

"Wrex, please. They aren't that interesting."

One of the men stepped close to Lakota. He wore a red baseball cap that matched his red t-shirt and a pair of dirty blue jeans. "You've been snooping around where you're not wanted, Shepard."

"Yeah, it's a bad habit of mine. I'm trying to cut back, but…"

The man backhanded Lakota with his left hand hitting her solidly on the jaw and with such force that the Spectre took an involuntarily step backward.

"You sure he's not a friend of yours, Shepard?" quipped Wrex. His voice was even-toned as though the display in front of him held little interest.

With her right hand, Lakota wiped away the blood dripping from her lower lip. "Damn, Wrex. You may be right. He's certainly acting like one."

The man backhanded the Spectre again. This time with his gun hand, so the blow struck the opposite cheek with more force and sent Lakota down on one knee.

"Your smart mouth will get you killed, Spectre. And so will your curiosity. Keep your nose out of Red business." The man stepped closer as if attempting to intimidate Lakota by towering over her.

"Wrex…"

"Shepard?"

"Are you just going to stand there and be rude," Lakota's body tensed slightly, "or are you going to say 'hi' to my friends?"

When she finished her sentence the Spectre launched herself up and forward, head-butting the man who'd hit her and sending him staggering backward – his gun skittering across the floor. Surprisingly, his baseball cap didn't fly off. Lakota quickly shuffled forward swinging her right leg up and across in a martial arts type of kick. Her movement was slowed slightly by her armor, but the hit landed solidly on the man's jaw and this time his cap was knocked off his head, but he stayed standing.

Wrex immediately followed Lakota's lead with a biotic push that sent the other five soaring backward through the air - each colliding with a corridor wall. The space was cramped and not suited for a large numbered brawl which put the advantage with Lakota and Wrex.

The Red closest to Wrex - a woman - attempted to get to her feet, but her face met the butt end of the krogan's shotgun. She slumped backward, her unconscious form sliding slowly down the wall.

The other Reds recovered quickly, but as they raised their guns to fire Lakota initiated an overload charge from her omni-tool which fanned out through the corridor, disabling all of their weaponry. The man who lost his baseball cap threw a left hook in retaliation, but the Spectre blocked it with her right forearm and then followed up with a hard jab to his nose. He faked left and then tried and overhand right. Lakota took it on her left forearm and then nailed him with a right cross. This time he went down on his knees - his eyes unfocused from all of the head shots he'd endured. She finished him off by swinging her right leg around in a Muay Thai angle kick - her hips rotating into the kick in order to convey more power and her armored shin making contact with the side of his head. He hit the floor with a grunt and didn't move any more.

Lakota turned in time to see the butt end of Wrex's shotgun connecting with another Red's face. The three remaining members, overloaded pistols hanging loosely in their hands, turned and ran. The krogan and Spectre didn't follow.

Wrex holstered his shotgun and looked at the three unconscious forms on the ground. "That was fun, Shepard. I'd like to meet more of your friends."

"You know me, Wrex," smirked Lakota, "I always know where to find a good time." With the back of her right hand, she wiped the blood that was still dripping from her lip.

"Looks like you could learn to take a punch though," Wrex deadpanned.

"Nah… no need for that. I'm dating a Doctor."

"A Prothean expert isn't going to be able to stitch your itty bitty pieces back together."

As if on cue, a small object bounced down the corridor stopping at the krogan and human's feet.

"GRENADE!" screamed Lakota.

The following explosion caught the battlemaster and Spectre in midstride as they were running away from the object. The blast launched them both through the air, Wrex landing easily down the corridor - protected by a biotic barrier - and Lakota landing heavily- protected from the blast by her armor and kinetic shielding, but battered and bruised from colliding with the wall.

"Ugh," groaned the Spectre. She was lying on her stomach, legs and arms sprawled out with her cheek touching the cool metal floor. "I'm going to hurt in the morning."

She took a quick glance at the smoking, crumbled area and saw that Wrex looked unscathed. As she tried to get her bearings, Lakota closed her eyes and fought the oncoming headache caused by the sound of the explosion. The pounding in her head dominated all other noise around her, like a war drum banging in her ears, and nausea threatened to overtake her. In a few minutes, Lakota had slowed her breathing and the nausea had passed. The ringing in her ears faded just enough to make out the sounds of footsteps clicking on the floor – becoming louder as they got closer. She reached for her pistol, but then felt rough hands wrench it away and felt the familiar sensation of a gun barrel touching her head.

"Commander Shepard," said a ghostly voice.

Lakota opened her eyes against the glaring light of the hallway. As her eyes focused on the origination point of the voice that called her name, she marveled at the Prothean technology that allowed the corridor lights to still be functional after such an explosion.

"Commander Shepard."

The voice had more solidity to it this time and Lakota's eyes were now able to make out a C-Sec uniform amidst the settling dust.

"Yeah, that's me," she said. "'Bout time you showed up."

"Commander Shepard. Get up. You're coming with us."

Lakota knew the difference between a request and an order. It sounded like the C-Sec officer was giving her an order - and she didn't take well to being given orders after almost being blown up.

"How about you tell me why I should go anywhere with you?"

"Commander Shepard, you are being charged with the murder of Mario Torres."

"Oh hell." Lakota let her pounding head fall back down upon the soothingly cool floor. "Today is not my best day."

Next Chapter: The Frame