Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts


Mass Effect: Human Revolution

Chapter 6: Bystander Effect

or

Chapter 6: I finally start putting some goddamned titles on these things.


Shadow Broker file REX-054: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) /Urdnot Wrex:

Wrex: Got your package. Thanks for the snazzy new phone. And the credit chit just warms my hearts.

Anon: Glad to hear it. Check its menu. Inside the file folder titled "Job" you'll find the necessary intel for the task at hand. Names, faces, locations, maps.

Wrex: Enemy composition?

Anon: Also there, but the gist of it? 64 light infantrymen mostly armed with barely decent SMGs and pistols.

Wrex: Yeah, i can see that in the file.

Wrex: So...you'd like Fist alive?

Anon: Let's just say he has a few things to answer for, betraying us for Saren being one of them. Will that be a problem?

Wrex: Nah, no problem. But the Broker doesn't usually call me for live jobs. Plus, I hear Fist's been snorting his Greasels' Zyme supply pretty hard lately. He may force my hand.

Anon: There's a first time for everything. Still, we won't be too sad if Fist were to suffer an unfortunate accident, but you won't be paid the full amount for his corpse.

Anon: Just make sure you extract the Quarian as well, and secure any data storage media in Fist's office.

Wrex: Right, the Quarian's the main objective?

Anon: Yes and no. We're far more interested in the intel she has in her Omni-Tool than her well-being. Still, we had an agreement with her and we'd like to try to hold up our end of the bargain. So, full fee for her brought in alive, half that for just the intel. No intel, no cash.

Wrex: Did I mention that the Shadow Broker also used to give me simpler jobs? Find Target. Kill Target. Get paid. All these caveats and addendums are giving me a headache.

Anon: You *could* hire some sub-contractors to hold your hand, if you'd like?

Wrex: Heh.

Wrex: Nah, I want all the fun to myself. I'm greedy that way. Well, I have some shopping to do. I'll call you when I collar Fist.

Wrex has left the conversation

~[h+]~

File REX-055: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) /Urdnot Wrex:

Anon: Yes?

Wrex: Things just got really, really interesting.

Anon: Define interesting.

Wrex: Fist is dead. Here's a picture.

Anon: That's all? It wasn't unexpected. I'm transferring your 'dead' fee right now.

Wrex: I didn't kill him.

Anon: Transfer done.

Anon: Wait, What?

Wrex: Not directly anyways.

Anon: Explain.

Wrex: Two cops decided to give Fist a visit just as I made my grand entrance. They beat me to him.

Anon: And they killed him?

Wrex: No, they wanted to interrogate him. Turns out they wanted the Quarian too, but Fist killed himself before they could get anything out of him.

Anon: Why would he do that?

Wrex: I might have been harassing him just a little and let him think i was out to kill him. Thought I'd try messing with his head a little.

Anon: ...It doesn't matter. Secure his files. Have you found the Quarian, at least?

Wrex: Nope. Turns out she wasn't even at Fist's club. As for Fist's files, well... good news and bad news. Good news: I know where she's going to be. Bad news: I had to let the cops take and crack Fist's files to get her location. She's headed for a trap laid by Saren, and we're headed for it right now.

Anon:...you left the cops alive? Not only that, you cooperate with them and let them get their hands on Fist's intel? Urdnot, what in the hell were you-

Wrex: Killing cops was never part of the job. They help me get the girl, They give me a copy of her intel, I give it to you. Everyone's happy.

Anon: That intel is worthless if those cops get a look at it.

Wrex: It's no use to you or anyone if Saren gets his hands on it.

WrexI'll finish the job. Deal with the cops however you like. It's not my damned problem.

Wrex has left the conversation

~[h+]~

Wrex's 'phone' collapsed its keyboard and screen into itself to take the form of a box the size of a pack of cigarettes. He stuffed the box inside his legpack and put his hands on the haptic wheel, but didn't turn off the autopilot. His Skyvan's Nav computer was set to follow this crappy old Spinner, a model of hovercar that was a common before those damned X3Ms rose to practically monopolize the aircar market. The Spinner was pretty fast, though: way above Shuttle Standard. Wrex's van had to shove more electricity in its eezo core to keep up.

Wrex kinda wished those two cops riding the Spinner would let him go manual already. It wasn't every day that a merc like him got to drive on the Cop's Highway at high speed. Then again, it wasn't every day that he worked with cops, either. When he encountered the two C-Sec agents, he had thought that he was dealing with two bounty hunters and was sorely tempted to shoot them for screwing him out of two million credits. When the human called the Turian by his name though, Wrex suddenly knew who he was dealing with.

Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian. The Citadel's two resident super-cops. The two of them had caught some of the station's nastiest killers and the criminals that got in their way tended to wind up crippled, comatose, dead or some combination thereof. Rumor had it that the just between the two of them the Citadel's crime rate had dropped seven percent.

Wrex was pretty confident he could have taken them. Too bad it simply wasn't worth it. Two reasons: Fitst, killing cops was always a bad idea, especially if their pals knew who did it. Most cops couldn't be bothered to find the one responsible for killing some poor duct rat kid in the Upper Wards, but Holy Void did they come down hard on a cop killer. Second, killing these two wouldn't have gotten him any closer to the Quarian, as it turned out she wasn't hiding out at Fist's at all. Wrex was a good tracker, but sifting through electronic paper and files wasn't his strong suit. As luck would have it, Jensen and Vakarian were very tech saavy and had extracted the girl's location from Fist's encrypted files.

And so an odd, if temporary, partnership was formed (at gunpoint): The Turian saw the value of having a Krogan bounty hunter around for sniffing out their quarry if she decided to run and hide (and, you know, soaking in bullets if Saren's men attacked them). Wrex saw the value in working with cops, if only to keep the rest of C-Sec off his back (and, you know, those two could soak bullets if Saren's men attacked him). The human was more inclined to make an arrest than cooperating, but Vakarian had made a good point.

They were headed for Upper Zakera. Despite what 'upper' implied, Upper Zakera wasn't a nice place. It was as close to a slum as you could get on the Citadel. The rich and the influential wanted to be as close as possible to the presidium ring and Tower (the 'Lower' reaches, from the tower's perspective). Consequently, the poor shifted towards the Upper reaches of the Wards. Zakera Ward's upper slum district wasn't quite as bad as the others on account that a steady trickle of stolen goods came into the district and was distributed around the area by the Bazaar. Still, that didn't mean it was safe for rich(er) folk to travel there, and cops were certainly not welcome as people there preferred to make their own justice.

Jensen's Spinner parked itself in a berth just twenty meters away from the meeting place, on a busy street close to the bazaar. Wrex took control of his hover van and parked it near the Spinner, turned off his vehicle's engines and got out. He took in the smell of the place and smiled. In any other part of the Citadel just smelled too damned clean. This place reeked of stale piss and vomit, old blood and older meat, spices and drugs, trash and wood. Most of these smells came from Upper Zakera's Bazaar, carried over by the wind generators that kept the Citadel's air from becoming too stale. Junk supported by plaster, wood and nails was mounted on low-rise buildings as improvised cheap housing inhabited by colorfully dressed poor people. It was Wrex's kind of place, a pressure cooker filled with potential violence, heated by bitterness and starvation, ready to explode into a riot. And there would be a riot: the big wigs at the Presidium instituted regulations and laws that slowly robbed the denizens of the Upper Wards their rights to live there in some snobbish, high handed attempt to 'clean up' the Citadel. Bad idea: food may be hard to come by in these slums, but guns were common and cheap.

Maybe I ought to stay here a while. Get front row seats to the spectacle. Business first, though.

Wrex took a swig of Ryncol from his flask, and made his way towards the cops. It was time to do this.

~[h+]~

"Stay in the car," commanded Jensen as he left the vehicle.

"I'm fine, Jensen! I can hardly feel the stinging anymore. I can-"

"I'm not benching you," Jensen half-lied. "I need you to be my eyes in the sky. If the Quarian isn't there or if Saren's men attack us, then we might need air support."

Garrus still didn't like it, but he knew better than to argue at the moment. He moved into the Spinner's driver's seat and took control of the craft. "Alright... Spirits, I hate driving this old piece of crap. Does this thing have guns?"

"Nope." Jensen was going to mount a heavy P.E.P.S between the prongs but couldn't get his hands on the necessary permits. Jensen pointed at the comm headset on the dashboard. "Keep a channel open."

"Will do." Vakarian closed the Spinner's side door and Jensen watched as the old vehicle rose into the pale, purple sky. The human cop was soon joined by the Krogan mercenary, who had just parked his van.

"What, he's sitting this one out?" asked Wrex.

"Air support," answered Jensen as he started his stride, crossing a street busier with foot traffic than ground cars.

"Smart." stated Wrex as he followed the cop. "What kind of guns did you put on that car?"

"None."

Wrex snorted. "Well, that's going be some crappy air support, then."

Adam hid his annoyance. "Just try to keep up."

~[h+]~

"You're late," said the barefaced Turian in front of Tali. His voice was deep and rumbling, and his skin was an unusual shade of pale green veined in blue. He was dressed in a black bodysuit made of ballistic cloth, and Tali's HUD highlighted the presence of small eezo signatures - the central components in hard-suit shields. These were tier VII, at least. She wasn't sure her shotgun could overcome them, should things turn sour. The Turian was also carrying a Cicada Mk V machine pistol on his hip, outclassing her firepower completely. She was glad that she had left a few surprises hidden in the trashcans around the two alley's crossing...

"Have you brought it?" asked the same voice behind her. Tali looked behind her, startled. She beheld the same face staring down at her with pale blue eyes. She had to admit that she had a hard time telling Turians apart unless they had a different skin tone or colonial markings painted on their face, but these two albino Turians just had to be twins.

"What is this? Where's Fist? Where's the Shadow Broker?"

"They are not coming," said the same voice from the backstreet on the right. A Triplet? He and two Salarians had come out of shadows.

"You have been betrayed," again, the same voice! This time from the left, with three Salarians. Clones! These Turians had to be clones! And now they surrounded her!

"Your life is forfeit," said the clone in front of her. Before she could reach for her shotgun, the clone behind her seized her from behind with a bear hug. He was strong, and she could feel her ribs strain under the pressure.

"Tell us where you hid the data," said the clone holding her, "and your passing will be quick. Resist, and you will die..." He pressed his mandibles on the side of her neck. "...screaming."

Tali's answer came with the glow and beep of her Omni-tool. "No deal, bosh'tet."

~[h+]~

Boom.

Jensen was beginning to hate that sound. Nothing good ever came out of that sound.

"I know that noise!" said Wrex. "Landmines, Flash-built by an Omni-Tool. Our Quarian's here!"

Garrus' voice came through loud on Jensen's earpiece: "Jensen! I'm right over the meeting spot! There's a cloud of thick smoke over it!"

Jensen's stride turned into a sprint and he left the Krogan merc behind. He had to hurry!

"Vakarian! Scan the place!"

"Already on it! I've got 10 blips, and seven of them are fading fast! One of them is making a bee line for the Bazaar - It's the Quarian!"

She's alive. Thank god. Adam turned around a corner and came across an intersection of two backstreets. It was, indeed, full a smoke, prompting Adam to turn on his Smart Vision before entering the cloud. He could make out the golden outlines of seven bodies - five salarians, two turians - who had died from the trauma of a pressure wave. He choked on the smell of rotting bodies, and realized quickly how odd it was that the Turians were already decomposing before his very eyes. His Implanted Rebreather kicked in, and reported the presence of toxins in the air. What had the Quarian used in her explosives?

"Two blips are moving after her!"

Jensen cleared the cloud of smoke and saw two pale green turians chasing the Quarian girl down the small alley. She had a head start, but these two turians were excellent sprinters, and would catch up to her in seconds. Jensen was much, much faster, but he was at least twenty meters away. By the time he caught up to them, they'd be right on top of the Quarian. Not wanting this to turn into a hostage situation or worse, Adam drew his HK-23 from its holster and aimed at the closest Turian.

~[h+]~

The clones were getting closer, and Tali knew it. Her sensors relayed their presence into her HUD, and they were catching up faster than she had thought possible. She prayed that her legs would let her make it to the Bazaar, where there would be plenty of people, hurdles, twists and turns she could use to lose her pursuers.

Someone shouted something about...frost? And Tali heard the report of the Cicada. When Tali's shield capacitors failed to drain, her curiosity took over, and she looked back at her pursuers. As it turned out, they seemed to be pursued themselves by a human man in a long blue coat. He was running and gunning at them, his gun strangely unwavering and aimed at their faces as it fired. Their shields easily absorbed the bullets, but the mass effect flashes that peppered their faces threw off their aim and their counter attacks went wide. They tried to compensate by shooting continuously, but the human was undaunted and the clone's guns went into Emergency Cooldown Mode. Whoever that human was, he had bought Tali precious time.

"Hold him off!" commanded the clone that had held her from behind. He had thrown away his heavy pistol in a fit of rage and frustration. "The suit rat is mine!" He disengaged from the human firing at them and resumed the chase. Tali, running on the Quarian analog to adrenaline, pushed herself to run faster and harder than ever.

~[h+]~

Damned military-grade shields, Adam cursed inwardly. He really should have known that a Spectre's underlings would have access to superior gear. He fired fifteen rounds into each of the Turian men's heads and their shields held at 70 percent. It had, fortunately, distracted them long enough for the Quarian to get away into the Bazaar. A chase with bystanders in the way was tricky even for an olympic sprinter.

Both of Saren's men had foolishly let their guns overheat in an attempt to scare off Jensen, and he saw an opportunity to finish this hand-to-hand. One of the pale green turians holstered his overheated weapon and stood his ground, another attempt at delaying Adam while his partner kept chasing the Turian. He rushed the Turian, ready to bury a carbon fist in his face.

Instead, Adam found himself slammed against the wall, a painful reminder that he wasn't the only one trained in CQC throws. Thankfully, his body armor and his Rhino Dermal implants had soaked much of the impact, sparing his torso's bones. He recovered quickly, and attempted to shoot the Turian's thigh at point blank range, well past the minimum range of his kinetic barriers. Instead, the Turian quickly grabbed Adam's HK-23 by the barrel and attempt a disarm by twisting the gun sideways, using the gun's trigger guard to break the cop's finger. Adam's grip held fast, though, and what wound up breaking instead was the entire weapon.

This guy's fast, and incredibly strong. It's time to get serious.

The Turian quickly pulled his freshly cooled machine pistol in an attempt to do unto Jensen as he had tried to do unto him. Jensen reacted by slapping the gun away with his left hand and buried the incredibly hot ruins of his pistol into the Turian's left eye. He did not scream, even as he could feel the precious, tiny ball of jelly boil away and his response was to swat Jensen's gun arm away and headbutt him. Stunned, Jensen could do nothing as the Turian seized him by the collar and threw him away like a ragdoll into a nearby pile of trashcans. Jensen recovered quickly and got back on his feet. The Turian withdrew his knife, and took on stance, ready to stab Jensen in the belly. It was time to finish this.

Adam triggered his Quicksilver Reflex Booster with a thought, and the world slowed down. He took on a defensive stance, and planned his next moves.

He only looks like he's going to strike low. Telegraphing on purpose. Too much protection on my chest, and he's probably figured out my arms aren't flesh. Will attempt to slash throat with his right hand. Block with right arm, extend left arm-blade and stab into his left elbow. Will ignore pain and attempt a heel kick to the stomach. Cannot allow this. Retract blade immediately, step on foot. Grab wrist with right hand, grab back quills with right hand and throw him on his back. Severed tendons on right arm, broken leg and trauma to the back of the skull will incapacitate him enough for him to be secured with flash-cuffs.

The Turian had formulated moves on his own, and both men executed them.

Well, they would have. What actually happened was that a biotically accelerated eight-hundred pound Krogan in dark red armour tackled the Turian down on the floor. He then roared and headbutted him, and the Turian's skull exploded, his brains and eyes splattered against the concrete. Urdnot Wrex stood up and looked down at his kill, feeling a bit proud of himself as he rubbed the dark blue blood from his crest. Splatter like that was art on Tuchanka.

Jensen was angry. He had the situation under control, and then some dinosaur just charges in and-

"If milady is done dancing," said Wrex, "We've got a Quarian to save!"

Before he could argue back, the rest of Turian's body started to melt. A thin green miasma emanated from its now exposed ribcage. Adam's internal rebreather activated, warning him that the gas was toxic. "What in the hell..."

Wrex answered the question: "Pharm-Augs. These birds marinated themselves in a vat of green gunk or something. Nice and cheap way to make mutant supersoldiers out in the Terminus."

Supersoldiers. And you let one of them get away. Goddamn you, Adam. If she dies, it's on you.

"...It's all on you, bratán." Garvin Quinn's damning voice echoed inside Jensen's head.

Garrus' voice came over Jensen's headset. "...Jensen."

No. Please, no...

"...We've got a problem."

~[h+]~

Tali toppled a garbage can over, and her pursuer stumbled and fell. It bought her more time, more time to run, more time to make her way to the middle of the bazaar, where the thicker crowd would hide her. She dodged and weaved across the foot traffic; many heads turned out of curiosity, bodies moved out of the way out of worry, but not a soul intevened on her behalf. Did they not care that she was being chased? Did they not see the violence in that Turian's eyes?

It's none of my business. Someone else with take care of this.

These few simple words had damned so many before her. Women had been raped in front of whole crowds. Men whose only crime was being born with the wrong skin color had been publicly beaten to death. The people had been allowed to commit these crimes because of these words.

For Quarians, there were another two words that could doom them just as easily.

"Stop, thief!"

The pale-green Turian clone, in a moment of brilliance, bellowed the two worst words a young Quarian on her pilgrimage could hear. Before long, looks of worry and curiosity were replaced by expressions of disgust and scorn. Quarians were filthy, dirty little thieves and vagabonds. Everyone suspected them, and they were just waiting for confirmation, an excuse to punish them like the dogs they were.

Tali kept running, hoping to escape the stares. She drew out her shotgun, hoping to intimidate anyone thinking about putting their hands on her.

"Stop, thief!"

Fresh stares of disgust and hate...

"Thief!"

...and then finally, action.

Javier and Hector were two teenage boys, barely eighteen, bored out of their minds and looking for some excitement. When some deep rumbling voice shouted something about a thief and they saw some suit-rat bitch running towards them, they knew they had found it.

They acted like they were going to get out of her way, but just as she passed them, they stuck their feet out, tripping her. She fell face first onto the dirty concrete and her visor cracked slightly. Her shotgun clattered away from her reach.

Two words, and two boys, and she had been caught.

~[h+]~

Garrus desperately tried to find the girl on his sensors, but all he found where a multitude of life signs. Once she had reached the bazaar, she practically vanished in plain sight. While Jensen had spent a pretty penny outfitting the old aircar with decent sensors, but they weren't exactly cutting edge: they couldn't quite tell the difference between a Quarian and Vorcha. Eyeballing it was out of the question: too much motion, too much color. Poor people had an eclectic sense of fashion.

It occurred to him that no Quarian ever leaves the Flotilla without personal shielding, and he altered the sensor settings to scan for element zero signatures. He found several, but he was interested in the two strong ones that were moving fast throughout the bazaar. It had to be the Quarian and her pursuer.

Then one of the blips stopped.

Garrus realized what just happened and commed Jensen.

"...Jensen, we've got a problem. I've got a lock on the Quarian, she's alive, but she's been immobilized. She's sixty meters from where you are, tipward. "

Vakarian could hear a sigh of relief over the comm. "We're on our way. Can you do anything to help her?"

"Short of crashing the Spinner on top of Saren's goon? Street's too crowded to land on it, and the nearest landing spot is on top of a building four stories high. I'm headed for it now, I might be able to take potshots at him-"

"You are NOT firing into a crowded street! You'll cause a panic!"

Garrus hovered above where the Quarian had stopped and turned activated the Spinner's cameras. The girl was being held by the arms by two tall human...teenagers? They couldn't have been working for Saren...

~[h+]~

They held her by the arms. Two tall boys on the edge of being men. They looked so skinny, yet they had a wiry strength to them that made their grips strong. Tali struggled to free herself, but the boys held fast. Her exhaustion started catching up with her legs and lungs: Quarians did their best to keep fit, but there wasn't much opportunity to practice long distance sprinting in the crowded ships of the Flotilla.

The Turian clone slowly approached with murder in his eyes.

"Let me go! I didn't steal anything from him!"

"Shut up!" shouted the taller of the boys on her right as he kneed her in the belly. His name was Hector, his father was an EVA certified construction worker, and he was miserable because Quarians had come along and robbed him of his job. Every single job he had. It's what he said, after the drinks.

Before the beatings.

Quarians made Hector's life miserable. His father said so, and so he hated Quarians. He didn't give half a rat's ass if she was innocent or not. He knew she'd suffer. He wanted her too.

The Turian got closer and he withdrew a knife.

Javier was worried, now. He had just wanted some excitement and had hoped for a little reward for his heroism. But that Turian was trouble, he could feel it.

Something clicked under Hector's chin.

Hector didn't think quarians had weapons mounted on their wrists, and didn't think much of holding their arms in such a way as to keep their hands away from beneath her Jaw. He really should have, the mini-crossbow mounted on the Quarian's wrist might've been pointed at something slightly less vital than his brains.

Hector's eyes widened. Tali's voice went cold. "Let me go. Now."

Time froze, and Hector briefly considered letting her go...but somewhere in the back of his head, his father's voice held dominion.

It's all their fault.

It was their fault they were poor. It was their fault his father kept drinking, no matter how much Mama begged him to stop. It was their fault they lived in his hole. It was their fault he couldn't go to school.

It's all *her* fault.

He tried twisting her wrist away, but he wasn't aware of one important fact: the mini-crossbow was wired to Tali's nervous system via her suit. The start he gave her galvanized her nerves, and she involuntarily sent the signal to loose the bolt.

Hector had died slowly, and his body went limp.

Javier, too shocked to process what had happened, didn't resist as Tali threw him at the Turian and dove for her shotgun. He could barely feel the turian's talon as it sliced his belly and his intestines spilled onto the ground. He said "mom?", over and over, until the light finally left his eyes.

The Turian, drunk on blood, was on top of Tali in less than a second, pining her to the ground. Soon, it would be over, and he would bring the Quarian's head to the Master. He raised his knife triumphantly, aiming for her skull. His mandibles flared and his mouth opened in a shout of victory.

Bang.

His head exploded from behind, the buckshot at point blank having torn its way through his brain. The rest of his body slumped besides Tali, and she pushed the corpse off herself. A crowd was forming around her. Various, multiracial expressions of shock, disgust and horror at what had just happened surrounded her.

Then the green gas emanating from the Turian's corpse reached the lungs in the crowd, and more innocent people started to die.

~[h+]~

The crowd was panicked. Wrex and Jensen tried to make their way to the Quarian, but it was like swimming against the flow of a river. Adam attempted to use his free running skills to bypass the flow of panicked people coming his way, but it was no use: there weren't any alternate paths to take. No walkways, no arrays of crates, nothing. By the time the merc and the cop got to the coordinates Garrus gave them, the Quarian was long gone. In her place were the corpses of a dozen men and a women.

A few children. Gas didn't discriminate.

At the center of the scene were the molten remains of the Turian assassin inside a body suit, and the bodies of two teenage boys. One of them had a bolt sticking out the top of his skull. Another had been gutted, no doubt by the assassin by the look of his bloody knife.

There was a rumble in the ground, and shouts in the air. News was spreading of this. A riot was coming, he was certain of it.

"...Vakarian," Adam spoke to his headset. "...tell me you've got her."

~[h+]~

Oh Keelah, what have i done what have I done I couldn't have known about that toxin inside of him I just wanted to scare that boy why did he hate me so much why didn't he just let me go I'm so sorry I just want to live

It wasn't over. She was starting to think it would never be over. As she hacked through the sewer's manhole, a mob had formed in the distance, made from people who had borne witness to her leaving the scene of the massacre. They were walking intently towards her, rage in their eyes and various improvised weapons in hand.

Hurry

A blue aircar with two prongs in front landed with a loud crash, blocking the way of the mob. A Turian came out, a heavy pistol in hand. He was armored in an orange and tiger strip Phantom armor. He drew a huge pistol and fired it in the air, its report and blue flash cowing everyone. He turned to her.

No no no hurry

The manhole bleeped and its lights glowed green as it opened. Tali got in immediately.

"Wait! I'm with C-sec! I'm here to help you!" shouted the Turian as he ran towards her.

No it's a trick C-Sec doesn't come here he's lying he is with Saren he wants to kill you

She entered the sewers and closed the manhole. Its locks engaged and its electronics exploded, blooming into sparks. The Turian swore as he tried to open it, but no one would be doing that any time soon. Not even the men who had tried to save her.

"Jensen?" said Vakarian, his breath short, into his headset. "No, I haven't got her. She's went into the sewers. I've lost her."

~[h+]~


CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: AUGMENTATION:

PHYSIOPHARMACEUTICAL AUGMENTATION.

Physiopharmaceutical augmentation (or Pharm-Aug for short) is a type of augmentation that involves treating a subject with various pharmaceutical drugs and mutagens to enhance his or her physical and even biotic capabilities. Psychological conditioning can even decrease reflex reaction times and increase pain tolerance nearly to the point of anesthesia. It is sometimes used as an alternative to gene-modification.

For all the advantages Pharm-aug can provide, it is not without its flaws: side effects of the chemical treatments include depigmentation of the skin and severe alteration of the vocal cords, giving a Pharm-Aug a freakish appearance. The more invasive Pharm-Aug processes can halve someone's life expectancy. Terrorist organizations use certain pharmaceuticals to transform willing (and sometimes unwilling) hosts into toxic suicide bombers.

The process rose to prevalence throughout the Terminus systems as a cheap method of creating an army of supersoldiers. The cheaper, easier to maintain augmentation method (besides the existence of biotics) is one of the primary reasons why mechanical augmentation, which its high maintenance costs, was phased out throughout the galaxy

~[h+]~


Author's notes: Tali's going to need a big hug when this is over. :(

I wonder who could this agent Brea be? :)

So. Space Favella. What the heck, right? I decided to have the Upper wards become the slums of the Citadel because its one of the staples of the cyberpunk genre: A sharp divide between the rich who lives in the glamourous spires of the station, and the poor, who live in old concrete buildings with junky shacks congesting the streets. Why concrete on the Citadel? I know the station is made of metal, but I always found that a city made completely of metal kinda broke my suspension of disbelief.

Two million credits sounds like a lot for a bounty, but when you consider books can cost 1000 credits from a Citadel vending machine, it makes you think... My personal conversion rate from Credit to American Dollar is 100:1.

So, 2.000.000 Creds = 20.000 US Dollars.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Up next on Mass Effect: Human Revolution? Riots! Lynch mobs! A sewer level! Tune in next week!