The fading sunlight cast long shadows through cracks and broken windows, giving the place an eerie and a dangerous feel. Shepard clutched the pistol closer to her chest, listening for any sound that would betray a potential predator. Having grown up among thieves and killers, she knew how and where to hide. This building was a particular favorite of the Reds. The idea of running into someone she knew in the past was not as exciting as one might think. She knew the Reds well and knew how they functioned. As kids, it was all fun and games. But once they got older, they became cautious, weary, and even suspicious of each other. Most group related deaths were caused by their own. You kept your friends close, your enemies closer, or you ended up dead in a ditch somewhere.

By the time Shepard reached the third floor the sun had completely set, enveloping everything in darkness. She switched on her visor, illuminating her face in pale blue, and as it hummed to live, it created a grid of the building for her. Configuring the settings to night vision, Shepard continued down the hallway. As she walked, the visor picked up random debris on the ground, labeling it for her. Concrete, can, steel bar, glass bottle, blood stain, gun. She stopped. Blood stain. Her brain flipped through memory flash cards, instantly pulling the one related to this blood stain.

A little boy. A little rich boy. He got lost, wandered his way into here, crying. Mommy, mommy. Piercing green eyes, blonde hair, small, weak body. Crying, crying, mommy. Her friends teasing him, pulling at his clothes, his hair. Calling him names. Crying harder, louder, stop it! She was annoyed with him so she punched him. He had nice clothes, she didn't. It wasn't fair. She hated that little boy. They pushed him around until the adults got back. Some didn't care, some cared, but not enough. Some even pushed him, too. Then they dragged him away, brought him here. The younger ones followed, her included. Laughing, clapping their hands. Get him! they shouted, get him! The adults tore his clothes off, played with him. But they were mean, cruel to him. When they finally got bored, they handed her a gun and said shoot him. She hated the little boy. Hated him because he had nice clothes, had money, and had food. But he also had a mommy. She didn't have a mommy. She pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. She kept pulling the trigger until nothing came out. The adults cheered her on and when the gun fell silent, they left. They left the little boy there and her. She was only nine. Him? No one cared.

A little boy gone missing. His blood soaking through wooden panels in the floor. He had a mommy and she didn't. And now he was dead and his mommy can't have him. He can't have his mommy either. But the smell of blood. So much of it. Spreading, reaching out for her. She was scared. Scared of the little boy, scared of herself. She dropped the gun and ran. That night, she cried herself to sleep, and the night after. The adults never spoke of it to her again. She was only nine.

Shepard knelt down in front of the stain, her fingers reaching out for it. She almost touched it, but stopped herself. She couldn't bring herself to be any closer to that little boy than she already was. His was the only life she ever took away when she was a kid. After that, she became proficient in bringing her victims close to death, but never completely. She learned to prefer to cause pain over quick release. And that made her more dangerous, feared. Even by her own friends. But from that day, Shepard swore to herself to never take an innocent life again.

She picked up the gun next to the blood stain. It was a rusted old pistol, ancient by current standards. A child's toy when she was young. She took one last look at it, then threw it out the nearest window, putting as much force into her throw as she could.

"You poor bastard." she said to the stain. "Picked the wrong day to go wandering around, searching for your mommy."

Shepard wished she could burn the place down. Not like anyone would notice or care. It certainly deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not this apartment, at least. She laughed silently to herself. And it wasn't a happy laugh. Sadistic, ironic, pathetic, depressed, yes. Happy? No. Right choices my ass. No one really knew her. The files were always wrong. Of course, she lied about her past. Saving the galaxy? Shepard couldn't care less. She just wanted to get rid of everything that reminded her of this god damned and forsaken place. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to tear down the root of her destruction and despair.

"You have more soul than you let on, Shepard." said a voice behind her, deep, vibrating, and uncomfortably familiar. Shepard drew her pistol and quickly turned around to face the voice. Her visor scanned the figure in front of her, line by line creating an image. But she already knew who it was. The visor beeped twice and provided her with the name. Thane Krios. Drell. Assassin. Well armed. Proceed with caution.

This was certainly unexpected and even more certainly unwelcome.

"I guess it was too much to hope that you died already. What are you doing here?" she asked him, guarded, her pistol still pointed at his chest.

"I'm here on an assignment." he replied rather too casually for Shepard's tastes.

"You mean for me." she corrected him. He nodded.

"Then why am I still alive?"

"Curious, isn't it? I can tell you."

"I don't have all night, Krios. Neither do you." she took a step forward, aiming her pistol between his eyes.

"I see we are at a predicament, then. I would kill you and you would do the same for me."

"I'll do it sooner if you don't start talking. Who sent you?"

"I only got a name and a location. Who sent me, I don't know."

"Lies."

"Trinity, Shepard? I had no idea it was you. I also didn't know you were religious."

He stood there in front of her, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not." she growled back. "Trinity means three. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't buy the God bullshit. And you haven't answered my question yet. Speak, or I start shooting."

He pushed himself off the wall, turning away from her and walking towards the window. The moon was starting to shine through.

"Don't-" Shepard barked "move!" Her pistol followed his steps when he chose to ignore her.

"I got the assignment not too long ago. The message was delivered while I was... away. All it gave me was Trinity and an apartment number. Fifty three, to be precise. I didn't know who or what to expect. So you can imagine my surprise when I found out that it was you." he paused to look at her, moonlight reflected in his large black eyes. Under any other circumstance and with another person, Shepard might have thought that to be pretty romantic, but she had a proverbial gun pointed at her, she herself was wielding one and the person before her was the subject of much ire.

"You still haven't answered me." she said, icily.

"Shepard, we worked together. If you were in my position, would you have killed you?"

"Without hesitation."

"Then I see we are more different than I thought. Shepard, I am not an idiot. I know you dislike me. But I never took you for a killer." His eyes traveled to the blood stain on the floor.

"So then do the galaxy a favor and finish the job." Shepard gritted through her teeth.

"I would. But you see, I am curious as to why I should. You have given me numerous opportunities to complete my job, but you have not given me a reason."

"Why should I? Having no reason to kill never stopped you before. Why now?"

There was a long pause between them before he finally answered.

"Because I like you, Shepard."

She couldn't have heard that right. Because he liked her? It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. She couldn't help herself. Laughter escaped her, forcing her to bend over and clutch her side, the wound still fresh.

"Wo- ouch- ow. Krios. Heh. Never took you for a compassionate assassin." Her side began to throb and she steadied herself against the wall, looking the drell straight in the eyes. His expression was dead serious.

"Not one for humor, are you." she commented, doubling over again, clutching her side.

"You've changed, Shepard." he said, a hint of forlornness in his tone.

"Well, yeah -ow- so have you. It would seem you've become softer and I've become -ah- harder." her side was really starting to bother her but she noticed the drell giving her a rather odd look. Then she realized that her last sentence didn't sound quite right. Somehow, it was starting not to matter though. Her side was really hurting now and her head was following suit. The drell seemed to notice.

"Are you alright?"

"Why the fuck -ugh- would you -shit!- care?" Her shirt felt wet to the touch and when she brought her hand into moonlight there was a dark stain on it. Shepard lifted the shirt up to discover that she had bled through the bandage. The stitching must have ruptured when she laughed. The irony of that amused her. The drell made her bleed without firing a single shot. She let out a string of curses. It was just her luck. The blood flowed more freely now and the headache was starting to blind her. She became unsteady on her feet, dropping on all fours to the ground.

"I -augh- guess you'll have - fuck - the job done..... after.................all."

The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Thane's concerned face as he scooped her up off the floor and a blur of windows as he ran.