Alpha and Omega

Deep Space. Normandy SR-2, Comm Room.

"Wait a goddamn minute, you're telling me what happened?"

Garrus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The turian looked over to EDI's glowing image and asked, "EDI, please explain to Zaeed what went on when he was napping."

The scarred mercenary growled, "It's not my fault that I slammed into the damned bulkhead when your jockey of a pilot decided to pull a fuckin' Crazy Ivan on me!" He paused as he looked at Shepard's suicide team, which had all gathered here in the Comm Room, minus the geth Legion and the biotic Jack. She was apparently having a mental breakdown below decks. "So mind telling me where the hell Shepard is?"

"He is gone, Mister Massani. A group of turian commandos calling themselves the 'Black Talons' abducted the Commander. The reason Jeff pulled a 'Crazy Ivan' is because he attempted to avoid a strike from an EMP projectile, which is why the Normandy is not functioning properly at this time."

Zaeed kept quiet, taking in the information from the AI slowly. His voice was quiet and subdued when he spoke again. "I've heard of 'em. Bunch of cloak and dagger black ops. Run by the turian military, but not publicly acknowledged. I ran into them once before…"

"You have?" Miranda Lawson, the genetically perfect Cerberus officer, put her hands on her hips with her brows raised. "If they got Shepard so easily, I don't see how you got away."

"When I ran with the Blue Suns, those Black Talons interfered with one of our missions. We were going after a diplomat aboard a freighter, and just before we managed to grab her, they came out of the woodwork and slaughtered my men." He began to chuckle as he dragged a finger over the scar by his eye. "Freaking braggarts, they were. I managed to get off that ship, but all down the halls I could hear them yelling: 'Black Talons, go go! Find the mercenaries!' Good god, they weren't very subtle. But they're professionals, alright."

"So what is our next course of action?" The drell assassin questioned as he leaned against the far wall, staring at the floor. Thane cleared his throat. "We have no idea where they took him, and this vessel won't be serviceable for several hours, if not days. He might not even be alive."

"He's alive." Tali pointed out curtly. "That Farrax, their leader, didn't shoot him. He used some device that knocked out Shepard just like that." She snapped her fingers to accentuate her point. "Why bother doing all that, if you were just going to kill him?"

"I say we cut the crap and find something to kill." Grunt growled and pounded his fist against the hull. "We won't get anything done by just sitting and talking. I want to find my battlemaster and rip out the spine of whoever attacked him."

Garrus turned back to EDI, "How long until long-range communications come back online?"

"Roughly thirty minutes."

"Good. Send me a message once it's up and running again." The turian looked back to the crew. "Dismissed."

Miranda glared at the alien. "Dismissed? Who the hell put you in charge, Vakarian?"

"Well I don't see anyone else taking charge, do you? You certainly haven't, and so far no one else has either." He snapped back, ready for any reprisal. "Or is it just because I'm a turian, and Shepard isn't? Always knew Cerberus was filled with bigots…"

Zaeed smiled and commented under his breath, "Oh, this is cute."

Jacob stepped in and separated the two before it could escalate, much to Zaeed's dismay. He was hoping for a fight.

The Comm Room doors parted to reveal a geth standing there, N7 armor welded to its chest and shoulder. A giant hole from a rifle shot went straight through its gut. You could see right through it. Legion, the mobile platform that housed 1,183 individual geth programs, spoke in his rigid, distorted voice.

"We have queried multiple crewmembers, but we were not able to gain sufficient data ever since this unit lost power due to an EMP attack. Also…" It delayed for a second and a half before continuing. "Where is Shepard Commander?"

Tali sighed, disappointed. "I knew it would take more than just an EMP to kill you. I was hoping to dismantle you later, Legion."

"Noted, Creator Zorah. But that does not answer this unit's previous query. Where is Shepard Commander?"

"What are you getting at, Shepard?" Zaael questioned with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew what Shepard meant right when he said it, but he had to be sure.

The Commander of the Normandy leaned back in his seat and grinned at the quarian prisoner across from him. "I'm talking about not staying in here, Zaael. I'm talking about getting out."

"Keelah. You've only been in here a day, and you're already plotting an escape? Shepard, merely thinking of trying to get out is a bad idea. We quarians are the scapegoats in here; we get knocked around by the guards and made examples of." He paused and shuddered, his voice now filled with genuine sadness. "The first day I got here, was the same day a group of human and turian prisoners tried to escape. Before any of them were punished, quarian inmates were murdered. I was greeted with the bodies of twenty-two members of my species, all shot in the head. I've tried to look out for the quarians in here ever since…No one else will."

"But you can't be content with just rotting in here for the rest of your life?"

Zaael hoarsely commented between coughs, "I'm not dead… I'm not terminally ill… Better off than most."

Shepard stared at Zaael, not believing what he was hearing. "So, you're content with just sitting here? Even if you see your own people get mistreated and eventually die? No leader should act like that."

Zaael sighed. After a few minutes of silence, he stared off into the distance, not focusing on Shepard. "You didn't hear this from me. The reason why the last, and only, escape attempt failed, is because the wannabe escapees refused to work together. If you want even a small chance of getting out, you'll have to work with all the races. Krogan, turian, all of them. Each race has a de facto leader of sorts, one they can go to for leadership. You have enough time to start with humans today. Go to the east wing. Find the man named Carrick."

The human stood and thanked Zaael before starting off for the eastern wing. He felt Zaael grab his wrist.

"Wait." He ordered. "Remember, Commander. These are murderers and terrorists and such. Not kind in spirit at all. If they see you as a threat, you can end up hurt. Take this." He slipped a plastic object into Shepard's right hand. "Keep it concealed at all times. Guards love finding that kind of stuff on people."

"Why is it made from plastic?" Shepard inspected the weapon skeptically. It looked frail with no cutting edge, with just a sharpened tip.

"It's plastic because it won't show up on scanners like the metal ones do." Zaael explained. "I can carry a metal blade with more ease due to my suit. It has armor plating fused with the rest of it, so I can hide blades like mine without worry. You can't. So you're stuck with a plastic 'knife,' if you can call it that."

The alien motioned for one of his friends to come over. "Keelan! Go with Shepard. Be his brains and brawns."

"Aye." Keelan'Massus nodded and stood from his seat. This was the first time Shepard got a good look at him. Keelan was tall and muscular, unusual for a quarian. Even the males in the Flotilla Marines were somewhat slim. "I'll make sure he won't do anything too dumb."

He patted Shepard's shoulder and nodded as he started off down the hall, where two guards flanked the entrance. Shepard noticed that their fingers subtly slid into the trigger guards of their weaponry, but Keelan either didn't notice or didn't care as he passed through without a second's notice by the guards. Shepard attempted to do the same, only to have the large turians block him.

"Halt." The first one ordered as he shoved his talons outward, "Saw you talkin' with dem quarians over there."

Shepard shrugged. "So what if I was, officer?"

A fist cracked right between the human's eyes, sending him backwards. The turian pointed a sharp claw at Shepard and snarled, "First of all, you don't speak back unless I want you to. Secondly, I ain't no fuckin' cop. I'm a Black Talon. You address me as 'sir.' You got me?"

Shepard balled a fist and looked up, ready to strike back, but Keelan shook his head and waved his hands. Don't even think about it.

The human loosened his fist and apologized to the alien in front of him. It took Shepard all that he had to not retaliate, but doing so against an armed commando with just a plastic weapon, well the results wouldn't be pretty. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again…"

Grinning, the guard nodded his head and lifted his rifle over his shoulder, "Damn straight, human. Damn straight."

"Is there something you need, sir?" Shepard asked, eager to get to this Carrick before he would be forced to return to his cell.

The second turian interjected, his eyes focused on a data pad in his hands. "Nah. Just needed to keep you waiting for a bit while you got scanned. You're free to move on."

Shepard opened his mouth to question the alien, but his eyes found a discreetly placed device mounted on the low ceiling. While the guard was harassing him, he was being scanned the whole time. The pair of Talons parted and Shepard went to Keelan's side again. He called the human a moron and warned him about the guards, "Things here ain't like what they are at your wussy human prisons. No such thing as police brutality in here."

"You don't say." Shepard grunted as he rubbed his nose.

Both human and quarian marched down the halls and wings of the penitentiary, going past several cell blocks and guard posts. The whole time, the pair came under at least two sets of eyes at all times, it was impossible to avoid being watched in here, whether the eyes be guard or prisoner.

"So, what are you in for, Keelan?" The Spectre asked as the east wing grew near.

Keelan answered back quickly, with no hesitation. "Killed thirty-six people. Blew up a Migrant Fleet freighter." He held up two thumb and index finger, forcing them close, but they never quite touched. "Came this close to blowing Omega in half."

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't be in here if that was all a joke." Keelan responded, still rather calmly. "Not everyone here has an 'I'm innocent and misunderstood' story. Most, if not all, have done what they've been accused of. Me? I like blowing shit up."

"Don't they have the Flotilla Marines?"

Keelan laughed for a long time before finally responding, "Tried the Marines 'bout twelve years ago. All you did was run errands for the damned Science and Tech Divisions. Three years with them, and all I got out of it was one firefight with the geth. And we ran away. Couldn't use my talents once." He cracked his knuckles as he remembered what Keelan though was his finest moment. "So after the mission, I took enough plastic explosives to cut an Alliance Carrier in half, and blew my birth-ship to hell."

"So you murdered your own people?"

"No, no! I made sure everyone was off the ship before I did it. I blew it up to prove a point." He rubbed his arm and gave a nervous sigh, "It was kinda also my letter of resignation from the Migrant Fleet. No, those thirty-six dead came on Omega, two years after that. I was hired to take down Aria T'Loak. They didn't care how I did it, they just wanted it done. Doubt they expected me to try to destroy the whole station."

Shepard was starting to get a little nervous with the fact he was conversing with a quarian whose favorite hobby was blowing things up. "And those thirty-six dead?

"Yeah… Most of them were Aria's mercs." Keelan cleared his throat. "Two were non-combatants, asari trying to get away from the firefight." He paused and put a hand to his visor. "I didn't mean to shoot 'em. But they popped out of nowhere and I just reacted. One millisecond they're alive, and bang, they're dead. Obviously, I didn't blow up Omega. I was caught just before I set the final charge, and now I'm here, on the inside for seven years as of last month."

Shepard looked up to find a holographic sign indicating the eastern wing. This part of the prison was much less diverse than Shepard's, mostly humans here. Dozens of people gathered in small groups allover the large room, some talking, others just sitting around quietly. The few aliens here were salarians, and they kept to the corner amongst themselves.

None of them noticed Shepard walking in, but as Keelan came in, several sapiens took notice. Some just watched with suspicion, and Shepard noticed others reaching behind their backs, probably reaching for weapons. Before Shepard could warn his companion, a gruff voice filled the room as if on a loudspeaker.

"Quarian! What brings you here?" A sea of people parted in the center of the wing, and a very large man stepped out. His hair was gray and his skin was wrinkled, but he was very well-built and the scars tracing down the left side of his head were proof this man had seen hell and lived to tell about it.

Whoever he was, he was important enough to warrant the attention of the guards on the upper balconies, who now readied their rifles. He shoved Shepard out of the way and got right in Keelan's face, or visor, so to speak. "What are you doing here, alien?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, human?" Keelan answered back confidently. Shepard could tell the quarian had a grin across his face, just by his tone.

The old man brandished a knife, made of rusted metal, and placed it against Keelan's shoulder. "How about I cut open your suit and make you nice an' sick?"

Keelan retrieved his own weapon, placing the cold steel against the human's throat. "How about I cut open your neck and make you nice an' dead?"

The guards in the room, either on the ground or up above, watched with interest. They wanted to see if these two would cut each other to pieces.

The human's stone cold eyes stared right at Keelan's for what felt like minutes. After a few moments, he smiled and began to laugh. His bellows mad Shepard's ears vibrate. The man sheathed his blade along the band of his pants and held out his hand, still smiling. "Keelan, good to see ya, mate."

Keelan put his knife away and shook the human's hand with a strong grip. "Likewise, Carrick, likewise."

The guards looked disappointed.

Carrick turned back to Shepard, who had been waiting there, rather confused. "Who's the pup here? New guy?"

"Yep. Name's Shepard. Guy wanted to talk to you."

The guards above nodded to the one below, who then began to move towards the two in the center. A turian began to shout as he forced his way through the crowds, "Drop the weapons, now!"

Keelan looked to Carrick, who nodded back. The quarian reluctantly pulled out his blade again and held it in the air, Carrick doing the same. Two guards forced themselves through the crowd with shotguns and fired upon the two. A storm of rubber pellets slammed into the two prisoners, sending them to the floor in painful heaps. Both turians secured the weapons and yanked the inmates to their feet.

The sergeant screamed in Carrick's face, "You're lucky we don't throw your ass in the pit again, Carrick! Only reason why I don't is because there ain't blood on the floors this time. Don't push me, human."

Carrick gave a small smile and looked down at his feet, "It won't happen again, sir."

The alien slammed the butt of his shotgun into Carrick's ribs. "Damn right it won't." He then turned and yelled to the crowd as he pumped his weapon, letting the spent shell casing fall to the ground, "Nothing to see here! Move along!"

Other inmates either returned to their business or shuffled out of the wing, not wanting to get shot like the other two.

Shepard helped Keelan to his feet, "You alright?"

Keelan groaned and brushed off his enviro-suit. "Ergh, yeah. No suit punctures, I think. Damn rubber pellets still hurt like hell though."

Carrick laughed at him and crossed his arms. Shepard noticed multiple tattoos along his thick arms, designs of dragons wrapped around his biceps, while what seemed like a military unit's patch was engraved on each forearm. His jumpsuit was faded and the sleeves were gone, but the number on his chest was still discernable.

"So you're Carrick?" Shepard asked as he turned to the much older man.

He nodded and held out his hand. "The one and only."

Shepard shook the prisoner's meaty hand. The hand of an experienced killer, no doubt.

"Come." Carrick ordered, motioning to a table in the far corner. "It's a blind spot from the guards, give us a little privacy. You coming, Keel?"

The quarian shook his head, "No. Gotta take care of other things before the day's over. See you two later."

Carrick said goodbye and wrapped an arm over Shepard's shoulders, guiding the Commander to the tables. "Well there, Mysterious Stranger, I don't believe I properly got your name?"

"Shepard."

His brow shot up, "Just Shepard? You don't have a first name?"

The Spectre hesitated, "Well…it's-"

Lifting his hand, Carrick cut in, "No, no. It's alright. Pretty obvious you don't wanna tell me. I can live with Shepard. Good, strong name anyways. Fits you well."

They both sat on top of the steel table and placed their backs against the wall. The whole wing sat in front of them. Cells, prisoners, and guards were all laid out in front of them. From here, you could see anyone approaching for yards before you had to react. Carrick coughed into his hand before crossing his arms over his chest, his voice was still gruff as he spoke, "So, what can I do for ya? Need drugs, dirty vids? I can get things most can't in here. Don't believe those salarian pricks when they try to sell you 'high quality items.'"

Shepard smiled. "No, none of that. Would you say that you more or less represent humanity in here?"

Carrick rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Did Zaael tell you that?"

"Pretty much."

"Glad he still thinks so highly of me." Carrick commented as he traced the scars that lanced all the way down his head. "Well, I somewhat lead humanity through this little hellhole. But I doubt you came all this way just to ask me that, 'cuz then this was just a waste of time."

Right to the point. Shepard liked this guy. "I'm not interested in staying in here for very long, Carrick. But I'm going to need help."

Carrick's kind expression changed to that of disgust. "You've been in here one day, and you want out? Either you got no balls, or you need to go to the damn psych ward." He yanked Shepard by his collar, forcing them nose to nose. "You insult me, Shepard. You wanna know how long I've been in here? Twenty-six years."

"That's a long time, for any man." Shepard stated, shoving Carrick back.

"Hell yes it is. Even longer when you think of escape all the damn time. That's how you go crazy, if you keep thinking of getting out."

"So what, you don't want to get out?" Shepard questioned skeptically.

"I want to get out, don't doubt that…" The large man answered with a nod, before turning to the man next to him. He looked at Shepard for a good long time, not saying a word. He finally spoke up, a tiny grin wrinkling his cheeks, "You remind me of me when I first landed in here. Security was lighter back then, escape was possible, but the guards were meaner. All you had to do was breathe and they'd beat you till your teeth fell out."

"What makes escape impossible now?"

Carrick sighed and began to explain the long list of security upgrades Last Dawn received when Warden Tordun took control. Twenty years ago, advanced scanners, able to find most form of metallic weaponry on a subject. Eighteen years ago, advanced training for the guards, allowing them to find more ways to quell riots or unruly inmates. Thirteen years ago, VI controlled turret system. At a flick of a switch, high caliber turrets could mow down inmates and leave guards unscathed. Finally, nine years ago, each room was individually pressurized and air was regulated. At the control of Captain Farrax, breathable air would be pumped from the rooms, able to suffocate anyone without a rebreather within minutes.

"The stuff they have here ain't humane," Carrick pointed as he stared out over his fellow inmates. "…but it sure as hell keeps order. The only escape attempt that I've been around for was a little over a year ago. Humans and turians formed a tentative alliance and tried to get out, but their relationship went south and someone dropped the ball. After they were caught, Farrax shot some quarians for the hell of it, and then individually tortured and 'disposed of' each collaborator." Carrick gave a sick chuckle. "He was busy for weeks."

"So there's no feasible way out of here?"

"No." Carrick grunted with little care. "At least, not from the inside. If I were a guard, my biggest worry wouldn't just be the inmates. It would be people on the outside trying to get in."

A harsh alarm filled the prison, and Carrick sighed loudly. "Another fuckin' early alarm. Head back to your cell, Shepard, and do it quick. We'll talk later."

"Garrus. It's good to hear from you again."

Her cool voice filled Garrus' head. It had lost its innocence from two years ago though. Her words had become almost mechanical now, little emotion slipped through, even when she wanted it to.

"Liara, it's good to see you too." Garrus replied with his best smile as he looked at the hologram of the asari in front of him. Her blue-toned skin was flawless, her hips just right, and her eyes piercing. Liara was an example of asari beauty, and the outfit she wore sure helped too. She had matured so much from the awkward little scientist she once was. The galaxy had turned her cold, but tiny flares of her old warmth still appeared from time to time.

Liara placed a finger on her chin and asked, "What's wrong, Garrus?"

The turian sighed slowly and looked at the walls behind Liara's image. "It's about Shepard, he's been taken…"

Liara stayed silent for a second, but she her reply was still calm. "I had heard faint reports of something happening to him, but I didn't think much of it. Do you… do you know what happened?"

"Yeah…" He replied as he rubbed the scars along his face. "The Normandy got hit by an EMP, and these turian commandos boarded. They called themselves the 'Black Talons,' and before we knew it, Shepard was knocked out cold and nabbed right out from under us. Joker and Tali are taking it the hardest."

"What about you?"

"I was right there, could have put a bullet in that bastard Farrax's brain…"

"Farrax?" Liara interrupted, her eyes wide. "Kilhai Farrax, perhaps?"

"I think that was his name, yeah." Garrus was starting to get uneasy from Liara's look. "You know the guy?"

"He's only one of the most infamous anti-quarian military figures on Palaven. Unofficially, at least." Liara grabbed a data pad from an assistant out of view and read it. She looked back up at Garrus. "It is remarkable how skilled this man is though, how much experience he's gained. He's put down riots and skirmishes on turian colonies, and he was once credited with ending a large war over resources. Many view him as a figure of respect and bravery, but his extreme racial policies kept him from every reaching a rank higher than captain… the rest is classified."

"How does any of this help us, Liara?" Garrus crossed his arms and huffed.

"Oh, sorry." The asari apologized and brought up a holo-panel by her. "My friends on Omega have spotted a Black Talon vessel, the Kerridian. Goddess…it looks like the Normandy."

"Focus, Liara."

"Right. It seems they've just docked at Omega. The vessel is helmed by a Commander Gorrun Falan. Start with them if you want to know where they took Shepard. I'll try from my end." Her cold composure broke for a brief moment, letting the real Liara come through. "Thank you for leaving me in the loop, Garrus. I'll help you get Shepard back. I'm not going to let him die on us again."

Her image disappeared before the former C-Sec officer could thank her. Garrus rubbed the back of his neck and called out loudly, "EDI?"

"Yes?"

"Get us to Omega. We just got ourselves a lead."

Captain Farrax's Private Quarters, Last Dawn Penitentiary.

Farrax leaned back in his chair, one foot kicked up on his desk. He held a small data pad in his hand and looked over the lines of information very slowly, examining each word meticulously.

First Name: *Classified*

Last Name: Shepard

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Place of Birth: *Classified*

Military Service: Graduate of the N7 Special Forces Program. Quickly reached rank of Lieutenant Commander. Thought to be the sole survivor of a thresher maw attack on Akuze, where his entire unit was wiped out. Assigned to serve under Captain David Anderson aboard the SSV Normandy as XO. Given command of the Normandy after he was christened as the first human Spectre. Killed in action while out on a patrol searching for geth outposts. A military funeral was held for the Commander, even though Alliance Search teams were unable to acquire his body.

Farrax noticed a small link under Shepard's service history, a vid of his funeral. The turian clicked on it.

Presidium, Citadel. Four Months after Commander Shepard was Listed as KIA.

Large crowds lined up around a large courtyard. Tall trees reached into the artificial sky of the Citadel as six Alliance Marines marched down an open aisle, an empty black casket upon their shoulders. An 'N7' was emblazoned on the hood of the coffin, along with a red blood-stripe tracing straight down. A Systems Alliance Navy flag was draped over the casket, the seal of the Alliance on top. Servicemen of all ranks lined each side of the aisle, rifles in their white-gloved hands.

Humans, turians, asari, salarian, volus, elcor, and almost every other known species stood and watched in total silence as the casket passed. The marines gently placed the casket before a large podium, a single microphone say on top. Sounds of repair teams would've filled the air around the Citadel today, but the Council halted work for today, to pay respect to the fallen human.

Top Alliance brass filled the front row of chairs, a sea of blue uniforms. Generals, Admirals, leaders of the armies, commanders of fleets, all here to honor not an ordinary man, but something more. A symbol for mankind's best.

Captain Hannah Shepard was in attendance, her grayish brown hair wrapped in a tight bun and hidden under her cap. Her face was set in stone as she watched the casket be placed just mere feet from her. Any crying over her dead son either had already been done, or would be done later in private. Not in front of her peers and superiors though.

Admiral Steven Hackett stood near the podium, with his hands behind his back, waiting for the marines to leave before he stood to speak. His uniform was spotless and covered in commendations and medals, showing the sheer number of years this man put into the Alliance. His gray mustache was neatly trimmed, his snowy hair also groomed. This man led the Fifth Fleet during the attack on the Citadel, where he lost eight vessels saving the dreadnaught Destiny Ascension from destruction, saving the Council in turn.

Newly-appointed Councilor Anderson kept both eyes on the casket, staring at the N7. It had become an unofficial symbol for Shepard. You could see it everywhere in the news. Sometimes instead of a picture of Shepard's face, the N7 was used.

Hackett's speech was short, as he recounted the accolades of Shepard, and his numerous accomplishments throughout service with the Alliance and the Spectres. His deep voice echoed over the crowds that watched and listened in silence.

"And though we were not able to recover Shepard's body, his spirit represents what humanity, and what every living being, can stand for. Bravery. Honor. Service to a righteous cause. 'When one of our brothers is lost, it is one too many.'" Hackett closed his eyes and nodded before he stepped down.

Seven Servicemen approached the casket, old-fashioned bolt-action rifles in their gloved hands. They filed in a neat row, shoulder to shoulder, facing Shepard's empty coffin.

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams appeared in front of them, in full service dress. She saluted the casket before turning on her heels to the left, and marched next to the first Serviceman. After a moment of silence, she yelled to her fellow soldiers. "Servicemen! Present… Arms!"

Seven rifles rose from the shoulders of each soldier, held out in front by two hands.

"Ready!"

Seven gloved hands pulled back the bolts on the rifles. Golden cartridges were forced into cold, grooved barrels.

"Aim!"

Seven barrels pointed above the casket, aimed for the air. Ashley's eyes drifted over to Shepard's coffin and she hesitated slightly.

"Fire!"

Thunder filled the courtyard and Hannah Shepard flinched.

"Ready!"

The Servicemen pulled back the bolts. Old shells hit the ground, new cartridges were forced in.

"Aim!"

Rifles were pointed back in the air again, ready to unleash.

"Fire!"

Thunder ripped throughout again, but Hannah Shepard refused to flinch again.

This was continued once more before the Servicemen were dismissed, but Chief Williams stayed behind. She moved to the head of Shepard's coffin and went to attention. Six Marines returned, the same ones who carried the box in. Three filed to each side, and with tender hands, lifted the Alliance flag that was draped over the coffin. Carefully, each soldier took part in folding the flag. The process was meticulously slow, each soldier making sure their part of the fourteen folds was carried out with perfection.

After the fourteenth fold, the first Marine took the tricorn folded pennant and held it firmly between his hands. He turned to Ashley and held the flag out, the embroidered logo of the Navy sat right on top. She took it and received a salute from the young soldier. With precision, she returned the salute and Ashley turned on her heels again.

She then slowly marched towards Captain Hannah Shepard.

Ashley kneeled and looked up at the Captain, "Ma'am, on behalf of Fleet Admiral Henry Deville, the Systems Alliance Naval Command, and a grateful Earth, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to humanity and a forever grateful Navy."

Ashley could see the torment behind Captain Shepard's eyes, and as she slowly took the flag from her, the Gunnery Chief added softly, "His crew loved him very, very much." Ashley's voiced faltered as she felt hot liquid sting her vision, "Skipper was the best person I have ever served under."

With that, Ashley rose back to her feet and saluted the Captain, who with the flag tucked under left arm, stood and returned the salute.

Farrax paused the video and shook his head. Human funerals were too long and depressing. Nothing you could do for the dead, or undead in this case.

Shepard was alive and kicking now, but the turian captain just wanted to see how long it would stay that way, though. If he doesn't piss off any of his own species with his do-gooder attitude, than surely the aliens would finish him off.

His computer beeped, and Farrax looked down to find a message waiting for him. Dragging a sharp talon over the screen, he pressed down on the small icon.

From: *Unknown ID*

To: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons

Subject: Commander Shepard

This has carried on long enough for me, Farrax. You are imprisoning humanity's, no not just humanity's, but all known sentient life's best chance at survival. Sovereign and the Collectors were just the start, Captain. There are many horrors out there, and Shepard may be the key.

So I'll ask you, one final time. Please send him to me at the coordinates I designate, and our deal will commence as planned. You will get no squabble from us, and you will be paid in full as we agreed upon.

I've warned you of the consequences.

Please, don't let it come to that.

Farrax grinned and quickly typed up his reply. An elaborate 'screw you' should work. Shepard deserves to see what the dregs of galactic society looks like.

From: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons

To: *Unknown ID*

Subject: Re: Commander Shepard

As much as I would love to comply, I do not believe that would be the best course of action. Frankly, Commander Shepard deserves to see what he's been killing all these years. I know if I hand him over to your custody right away, he'll just end up dead. At least in a prison, I can control what happens.

Shepard stays with me.

Sincerely, Kilhai Farrax

He sent the message just as Lieutenant Antalus entered the room, his gait was plagued with a limp. The Captain smiled as he fondly remembered the bullet he lodged in Antalus' foot.

"Is there something you need, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir." Antalus grunted as he made his way towards the wall, where he leaned against to keep the pressure of his foot. "Just giving you a status report."

"Well," Farrax said with a grin, "As those humans say, 'don't keep me in suspense.' Out with it."

"One of my sergeants saw Shepard talking with both Zaael and Carrick."

Sighing, Farrax rubbed his forehead slowly, "You came all the way up here on a bullet-riddled foot to tell me that they were talking to each other? Let him talk with the damn humans, and I could care less about the quarians."

"I think he's forming alliances, sir."

"Hmm." Farrax scratched his chin and thought deeply for a moment. "Well then…I suggest you get security to keep a closer eye on them."

"Aye, sir." Antalus nodded and reached for a communicator on his belt.

Farrax held up his hand and chided, "Oh no, no. I need you to go down to security yourself. I can trust only you right now."

Antalus looked down at his foot and gave a pained expression. The security office was on the other side of the prison. A painful journey for the Lieutenant. "But sir…"

"No, no…" Farrax said as he grinned from ear to ear, another human expression. "You need to do it yourself."

The Lieutenant sighed and limped out of the office. Farrax chuckled and rested both feet on his desk again just as his computer beeped. He looked at the message and stopped laughing. His smile died away immediately.

From: *Unknown ID*

To: Captain Kilhai Farrax of the Black Talons

Subject: Re: Re: Commander Shepard

Captain. You just signed your own death warrant.

Goodbye.

Omega.

EDI expertly guided the Normandy into the docking port and allowed the magnetic moorings to lock onto the hull of the ship. She sent a message to Garrus, who thanked her accordingly. Joker scratched his left knee, right above where a cast had wrapped around his leg. Chakwas said even after all the technological advances humanity has made, a cast was still the best way to treat breaks.

"Jeez…" The pilot complained, "Just wished they discovered a way to stop the damn itching."

"You could've gotten an infection, Jeff. I would rather just have itching than no leg at all." EDI chastised like a school teacher, and Joker didn't like it one bit.

"Well, with all due respect, babe…" Joker said as he tried to squeeze a finger under his cast, "…you don't have legs. Or skin for that matter. So you can't itch or scratch regardless."

"Touché, Jeff. But I do have control over certain systems, as you are well aware of." EDI snapped back. If she could smile, she would probably be doing that right now. "You have an interesting taste in music, Mister Moreau."

Joker gasped, "You didn't…"

"My, I had no idea you were a fan of twentieth century boy bands. Now what if I played this over the intercoms all day?"

"You could never prove they were from me." Joker said with a confident grin.

"Quite the contrary. I've spent enough time around you to collect sufficient sound-bytes to use however I please." Joker say in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. EDI couldn't help but ask, "What? Don't believe me?"

"Pretty much."

Joker's voice spoke right back at him, through the speakers. "I'm Flight Lieutenant Jeffery Moreau, and this is my favorite song on the-"

"Alright, alright! I take back what I said, Jesus…" Joker brought his personal files and quickly began to go through the music. "That ain't fair, EDI. I can't humiliate you like that."

"You're right, Jeff. You can't."

Garrus looked over the team. Everyone was there, including Jack. She said she was fine, but the untold hours she spent below decks having what Tali and Grunt described as a mental breakdown didn't bode well.

Zaeed huffed out loud, "I don't see any point in me being here. Frankly, I owe you people no loyalty. Ever since Shepard gave the Illusive Man the bird, the funds from Cerberus have mysteriously disappeared from my accounts. Maybe I should just leave, maybe I don't give a damn about you guys anymore."

"You're the only one here who has had experience with the Black Talons. I think that makes you a valuable asset." Jacob said, arms crossed over his chest. "Plus, Shepard helped you go after Vido."

"Too bad he let the bastard get away. Shoulda let me handle it."

"Well Shepard apparently convinced to stick around, did he not? Or am I mistaken?" Mordin commented with a smug grin.

Zaeed stayed quiet as everyone stared at him. His eyes darted to each crewmate. "Fine, fine. Guess I owe the SOB for not leaving me to die under that beam. Guess I owe him that much, but I don't work for free."

Garrus smiled. "Whatever loot we come across is yours, Zaeed."

Satisfied, the mercenary leaned against the wall and nodded slowly, satisfied.

The turian turned to the team, and explained the plan in detail. He, Tali, and Jacob would enter Afterlife, the club where this Commander Gorrun Falan was apparently residing, and slowly make their way towards him. Tali and Jacob would size up the opposition within the bar, not just any Black Talons, but also Aria T'Loak's guards and other mercs. This could get messy if it turned into a real firefight, so Garrus preached discretion, something he wasn't very good at but it was necessary.

"Jack, Samara, Thane, Grunt, Zaeed, Mordin, and Legion will be our backup, in case things go to hell… which they probably will."

"What about me?" Miranda spoke up, the anger obvious in her voice.

"You're on… 'tactical operations.' You're the Cerberus officer anyways, perfect for you." Garrus dismissed the woman with a wave of his hand.

Slamming her fist against the table that surrounded a holographic image of the Normandy, Miranda hissed as her skin glowed blue from a biotic flare, "We have one argument and you treat me like a child? Grow up, Vakarian!"

"I'm not the one throwing a fit, Miss Lawson." The turian replied.

Zaeed grinned at yet another argument between the two, but decided to play peacekeeper for once. "She'll be with us, Garrus. Now, find this Commander Falan and get me my money."

Omega, Afterlife Club.

The thumping bass rocked Garrus to the core, each boom from the music was more bone-racking than the last. Asari danced up on their platforms, scantily clad as usual. The bars were filled to peak capacity, someone always wanting another dose of alcohol to fill their veins. Dozens of conversations filled in with the music, but the former officer was used to working the clubs back on the Citadel, so he could tune out most of it.

He looked to his right to find Jacob sitting at a small table, some form of human liquor in a small glass in front of him.

Both Jacob and Tali had entered Afterlife five minutes ago, separately. No point in coming in all at once like a big group and just showing off the fact you were looking for someone.

Slowly walking to the center of the club, Garrus walked up to the bar, a salarian manning the drinks. Placing both hands on the table, he looked up at the bartender. "You see any turians 'round here?"

The salarian stopped cleaning the glass in his hands, "I see one right in front of me. Does that count?"

"Look pal, I don't need a smartass. Just some answers."

Placing the glass on the table, the bartender chuckled. "Could you be a bit more specific then? Can't get much out of 'any turians around here.'"

Garrus was starting to lose his patience, but he kept cool. "Guys with black tattoos all over their faces."

"Try downstairs. Think I saw them come through." He explained as he poured a drink into the glass he just cleaned. "Got something here for you turians, you interested in a drink?"

Garrus held up his hand and declined, he could get sloppy drunk when it came down to it, and acting like an ass wouldn't help anyone find Shepard. Turning for the door, Garrus looked towards Jacob and pointed to the floor.

One floor below.

Omega, Afterlife's Lower Level.

Tali leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other. She picked a table near the entrance of the club, hoping for the best view without drawing too much attention to herself. But a quarian on Omega was rare, and she either got strange looks, or she got hit on by the turian clubbers.

And every time she turned them down, the look on their faces? Priceless.

She loved the music and noise. It reminded her of the Fleet, but it also let her know she wasn't alone. Albeit she was in the company of criminals, it was better than spending a few hours alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two rather large turians approaching, dressed in combat armor. She was prepared to think up her twentieth letdown, but Tali noticed in the dim light the black tattoos covering their faces. Black Talons.

She clenched a fist as her blood began to boil, but she quickly got her emotions in check. This was probably her only chance to find out where their commander was hiding, so she would play along with them.

The first turian sat down right across from her, while the other one apparently got nervous and walked away quickly.

This guy was obviously drunk. She could easily tell from his slurring.

"Hey there…Wh-Wha-What brings a quarian like you here?"

Tali grinned. This might be easier than she thought. "Oh you know, the drinks, the parties…" She leaned over the table, using her body to her advantage. The turian couldn't keep his attention on Tali's visor, that was for sure. "…the men."

"Well thannnn…" He slurred slowly. "I think I can help with that, if you don't mind me saying."

"Oh, can you?" Tali grinned as her eyes trailed to the left. A turian sat at a barstool, a green design covering the right shoulder pauldron. A stack of empty glasses filled either side of the table he leaned on. His shoulders were low and his eyes facing the ground. Tali turned her attention back to the drunken soldier in front of her, grabbed the neck piece of his armor and pulled him in close. "How about you do something for me?"

The turian smiled, probably thinking he had this in the bag. "Anything f-for you, babe."

"Who's the poor sap up at the bar, all alone?"

The Black Talon suddenly looked over his shoulder and nervously replied, "That's Commander Falan…" He placed a hand on Tali's arm, "I wouldn't waste my time with him. He's a complete downer."

"It's alright…" Tali said with a grin as she shoved the turian back into his seat before leaving to find a new table. "I'm not into turians anyways."

She could hear the alien mumble as she walked away, obviously disappointed. "Damn, now I need a cold shower…or two."

Finding a new spot on the other end of Afterlife, Tali noticed Garrus just walking in. He paused and looked to his left and right, probably looking for his quarian teammate. Tali waved her hand and Garrus made his way over quickly.

He sat down as Tali began to explain, "Their commander is currently docked at a bar at the back of the club. He doesn't look very happy."

"Noted."

"So, how do we wanna do this?" Tali asked over the pumping bass.

Garrus didn't reply at first, still in deep thought. Finally, he spoke up, "Jacob has us covered upstairs, no major opposition there. You know how many Talons are down here?"

"Besides the commander, two, I think." Tali explained. "One tried hitting on me, wanted to punch him right in his jaw. But there might be more. What are you going to do, though?"

"Well," Garrus sighed, "I'll go at it like this. I'll head over and talk to the guy, see if I can get him alone, and knock him out. Shouldn't be hard if he's wasted. If he's not confrontational, maybe we could walk out of here. After that, we get the hell out as fast as we can before any of his men notice. We gotta do this quick, though. I don't want to get shot in the ass."

With that, Garrus stood and made his way for the back of the club, to find a turian sitting on one of the stools, all alone. The bartender was at the far left, dealing with an unruly customer. He pulled up to a seat next to the turian.

The Commander's head was in his hands, elbows propped up on the table. Empty shot glasses surrounded the Black Talon officer, at least a dozen and a half.

"Can I help you, kid?" He grumbled, his voice low.

Garrus grinned, "Just enjoying the sights and the girls. What's a man like you hovering over a bar the whole night?"

The Black Talon looked up, his expression just saying 'what?'

"Are you hitting on me, boy?"

Laughing, Garrus shook his hands, "No, no. I just-"

Falan smacked the table. "Damn it! I didn't come to Omega to stir up conversation. I came here to get hammered." He sighed and had the bartender pour him a new shot of liquor. "I came here to forget."

"Forget what?"

The Commander sniffed before downing another shot of liquor. He then pointed to his face, which was covered in scars, skin peeled away where his old colonial tattoos once inhabited. "Forget the pain, what I saw, what I've done. You see these scars; well they weren't caused by someone else. I did them to myself."

"Yourself?" Garrus mused, still trying to think of a way to get him out of here. "What do you mean?"

"When you are selected to become a Black Talon, there are usually about a thousand recruits. Fourteen weeks of hell is what we had to go through. About four hundred dropped out only after the second week. Another four hundred within the next twelve. Only two hundred were left after that, and I was damn proud to be one of them."

Falan sighed as he demanded another drink. "Final day, for your initiation, you're given a combat blade that's been superheated, and shear away your old markings, even if it was face paint and not tattoos… Still had to do it. I've never seen grown men shit their pants, but they came pretty close that day. One hundred and twenty refused to do it, so they were kicked out right on the spot."

Garrus gave an impressed whistle. He thought training to become a C-Sec officer was tough, but whatever they did was even worse. He could imagine brutal drill instructors literally beating out any imperfections from their recruits.

Falan gave a drunken chuckle, "My tats were the most elaborate. But I shaved 'em off, in one go. I was fuckin' ugly after that, but I earned the black markings of a Talon."

"Then why try to drink everything away? You sound proud."

"You don't know what they make you do, once you're one of them. I was forced to kill people, didn't matter who they were, just on order. Like varren. At first, it didn't faze me. Hell, I probably enjoyed the feeling of taking life at the pull of a trigger. Like I was a god." His hands pressed against his forehead, as if trying to force out the harsh memories. "But about a year in, the nightmares and flashbacks came. I relived the same kills over and over again. It wouldn't stop…"

Falan clenched his teeth. His hand fell upon the bar, knocking over several shot glasses. "The same brutal murders, come back over and over. And I can't make it stop…"

"Commander," Garrus started carefully, hoping to get the Commander to his feet, "You can come with us. You'll never have to answer to the Talons again."

The Talon scanned the man before him for a few moments, but eventually slowly nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. Tired of this shit."

Garrus eased the inebriated Commander to his feet and whispered into his communicator. "Tali, Jacob? Saddle up. We got Commander Falan."

Peace.