Chapter 4- I SAID I Was Competitive
Three minutes…
I mean, who really could make it halfway through the wards in three minutes, even discounting all of Fist's angry men between us and this elusive quarian? But, as my father used to say, "You'll only see a turian's back once he's dead." It was time to show Commander Shepard it wasn't my charm and good looks that got me into C-Sec's Detective Division.
Snugging my rifle into my plating, I focused on my visor, taking in heat signature all over the place: Multiple targets. Lancer II on four signatures…
I ceased to pay attention to the scrolling information, settling in and welcoming the trancelike embrace that comes instinctively to any sniper worth the name. Just you, the scope, and the target.
Breathe, Hold… Plink… Breathe, Hold… Plink…
The pattern repeated itself over and over. Time ceased to exist as four targets went down in a matter of seconds, training and instinct over-riding thought and planning. When the final signature within Chora's Den went down, I glanced at Shepard to see a look of admiration, quickly replaced by one of challenge.
"Okay, maybe you CAN hit the broad side of a barn."
The phrasing was unfamiliar, but the meaning was unmistakable. If not for the mischievous glint in her eye, I would never have known she was laughing at me. While under time constraints. In the middle of a firefight, no less.
Face blank, I snorted and turned my rifle in her direction. An betrayed look crossed her face as I caressed the trigger, sending a bullet within inches of her shoulder plating before hitting it's target, the forehead of the merc who'd just come through the front door. Belatedly I registered her hand on her pistol.
She glanced back, eyes returning to my face in a strange human reflection of my own smirk.
"Nice shot, Vakarian. Let's move."
Two minutes…
Okay, I'll admit it. I think the Commander and I spent more time trying to be the first to drop each target, rather than focusing on getting to the ambush site. My blood soared at the competition; it was the best stress relief I'd had in months. Failed case after failed case: the red sand smuggling ring, Dr. Saleon, Saren. All left me feeling worthless as a detective and a turian, whether or not Pallin ever said anything aloud. But this? This was a challenge I was up for, with my eyes closed if necessary.
As we came over the stairway to the meeting place, we heard a conversation in progress.
"Don't worry, he'll be here…" A turian purred as he reached out to possessively run a single talon down the face mask of the quarian in front of him.
See, it's ben'jees like him that give other species the wrong ideas about turians. Can't imagine why they won't trust us to do anything but be their military when shining examples like him populate every major city.
She stepped back in disgust, hands jerking defensively to her holstered shotgun. "No way. Deal's off…"
His response to her rejection was a quickly drawn pistol.
I lined up the shot, processing information as it came. Distance: 20m. Air speed and resistance: 0.
As I gently squeezed the trigger between breaths, I heard a second shot to my left.
"Missed," I informed her triumphantly, indicating with a nod the single entry wound in the turian's carapice.
"Yes, you did," was her smug reply. We glanced at each other.
"A little help here please," came Wrex's gruff voice as he fired an inferno round into a nearby merc, setting him aflame. "Unless you two just want to clean each others rifles here in the hallway." Another target caught fire, round through the chest.
Sending the krogan a disgusted look, I milked the trigger, downing two more of Fist's men. The third and fourth were down, via Shepard, before I could even adjust my sights in their direction.
Rising from her kneeling position, Shepard approached the quarian, hands placed in open sight away from her weapons.
Tali'zorah. A young quarian on her piligrimage. How the girl had managed to retrieve evidence of Saren's involvement from the memory core of a disabled geth, something I would have never thought possible, I had no idea. But the girl had quad, demanding a meeting with the Shadow Broker. I had to give her that at least. Head tilted, she played the recording, not even hesitating to share her information with Shepard. Considering how protective she'd been of it not moments before, I just took this as one more example of what a skilled talker the Spectre was.
Regardless, listening to the voices in their treacherous plotting, there was no way Saren was getting away this time. Obviously impressed by the young girl's work, Shepard invited her to join the ever expanding Normandy crew. Time I used to walk over to the fallen turian.
I knelt to examine the bullet hole, hoping to prove it had been my Volkov and not her Harpoon that had penetrated. The slugs from each weapon had a distinctly different burn pattern created by their entry, which should make it easy enough to settle our disagreement. Looking more closely, nose only inches from the wound, I stared in disbelief at the evidence my eyes was showing me.
I pulled back to my kneeling position as Shepard approached, laughing to myself. I could tell from her expression as she knelt next to me, a smirk touched by a twinkle in her eyes that could only be interpreted as amusement, that she had realized what I'd just determined moments before…
Both patterns were present. The bullets had entered at exactly the same spot.