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 12: Duty Calls

Early author's notes: Edgar Hein is voiced by James Woods. Jane Proudfoot is voiced by Peri Gilpin.

~[h+]~

Adam sat down at his work desk, his meal almost fully digested. With nothing to do and the boredom setting in, he started feeling the need to do something with his hands. On the desk was Sasha, taken apart and in need of some maintenance. Adam oiled her and put her back together with care and dexterity that would have made Amnon proud.

"Wish I had brought you out yesterday." He said to the revolver. He had taken Sasha apart the day before yesterday, but then his mind (and hands) had wandered onto finishing the other project laying on his Omni-Bench: a replica of the Sarif Herakles Series VI prosthetic right arm. He had built it out of spare parts replicated with omni-gel in order to familiarize himself further with all the bits of his own arm for the sake of maintaining them better. It was functional save for all the extras Sarif's techs had crammed into Adam's Herakles' frame. Also, the outer shell was made out of plastic and ceramic rather than carbon: there were some things the Omni-Bench's mini-fabricator couldn't make. It was a quite a project, and that meant Amnon's custom built Schofield Wolf 645 revolver had been left on the work-desk disassembled when Adam went to sleep, and it stayed disassembled when Adam had gotten the emergency call the morning after, giving Adam with no time to put the gun back together.

But now, 'Sasha' (as Amnon had so affectionately called the gun) was whole again. Adam admired the piece: Its dense, reinforced titanium angular, beveled frame was painted a dark blue-gray, its gel grip painted black. The barrel was partially covered with a black carbon case that protected the sensitive parts of the Armour Piercing Quantum tunneler mod mounted at the bottom of the barrel, its teal light off. Adam had the gun made as a backup in case his main weapon got jammed by a tech attack or plain rotten luck. The AP mod was vulnerable to a Sabotage, but the revolver would remain functional even if it couldn't bypass a layer of armor, and there were always tungsten rounds.

Remembering Amnon's gift, Adam fitted the special tungsten core .357 rounds into 4 moon clips for ease of reload. The hand-loaded ammo were packed with Amnon's special formula: three times more potent than regular gunpowder, the charge gave the gun a kickback that would knock most people down flat after firing it. For Jensen, of course, it was hardly an issue. Jensen had thought about replicating Amnon's powder, but decided against experimenting with high explosives in his apartment.

Adam did a few spinning tricks with the gun, or at least just about every trick Amnon had taught him that could be done with one gun, minus those that required a belt holster. He had managed to kill at least ten minutes doing this before he heard the ring tone over the omni-directional speaker. His apartment's VI conjured up a hologram in front of Adam, detailing the caller's ID. It was Pallin.

"Accept call."

The VI beeped.

"Jensen here."

"Bored yet, Adam?"

"Out of my mind. What do you want?"

"Meet me at my office in the Embassies. And before you get smart with me, I've submitted a 76-B along with the suspension cancellation paperwork. You work for me directly."

The VI beeped again, and a holographic envelope appeared in front of Adam. He tapped it with his finger, and it was, indeed, the necessary paperwork giving Pallin authority to go over the heads of everyone in the chain of command between him and Jensen...and vice-versa.

"Huh. Can I ask why I'm getting such an invitation?"

"The Alliance Intel agent is here. I've tried to convince her to leave you out of the investigation, but your reputation seems to be working against you on that front.

"Not even when you gave her my files?"

"Not even then. She wants you, Jensen. Get over here, that's an order."

Adam sighed. No rest for the weary. "I'm on my way," he said, just before closing the connection. He loaded Sasha with a moonclip and set the gun on the worktable. He tiptoed around the mess in the apartment and made his way to the closet. He picked his 'autumn' outfit: black T-shirt, black jeans over brown leather boots, a white cardigan with a zipper and a stand up collar, and a long leather coat patterned with criss-crossing seams, which he only closed with a button strap over the breast, leaving the coat open at the bottom. He also put on a leather thigh holster – this time, he'd be bringing Sasha along. You never knew when you needed a hand-cannon.

~[h+]~

Udina pushed the Send button, uploading the list of candidates and their relevant dossiers directly to the Council through a secure channel. "And with that," he said smugly. "We'll have no more talk of making Adam Jensen a Spectre!"

Hein rolled his eyes. "Try and keep it in your pants, Udina." Some of us aren't exactly happy with Ramsus, either."

"Neither am I, but as Hackett just assured us, Johan is someone we can control. Jensen is not a team player, and let's not forget the Order Church's reaction. Or as you've pointed out, the Templars'."

While Hein had expressed the opinion that Jensen would have made an excellent Spectre, he also pointed out the inevitably militaristic reaction the Templars would have at the news. If an augment became sponsored by the Alliance to become a Spectre. They would invade Arcturus Station and destroy the Alliance's leadership, take it over, easily crush any resistance and repel any attempt to retake the station. Anderson scowled at this, not quite believing that the Templars could possibly a coup like this off, but Hackett's somber expression spoke volumes in favor of Hein. But of course, Hein wasn't finished:

"You don't believe me? Fair enough, it does sound quite unbelievable, doesn't it? But I've got the numbers to back it up. Forget what you've read on the Codex: The Templars have THREE supercarrier groups. Three! And each of them composed of six heavy cruisers and twelve or so frigates and support ships. The De Sable class carriers that form the core of the groups can carry eighty fighters, forty bombers, and thirty dropships. Every cruiser and frigate carries a complement of drones. The Hand of Baphomet? It carries twice the fighter complement as the De Sables and has the firepower of a dreadnought to boot. They have over 10.000 infantry, the lightest of which put on light power armor. They have hundreds of experimental Wanzers, some of which that are over nine meters tall. Any personnel lost can be replaced by tapping into the millions of pious nuns and monks willing to die for her Holiness. Gentlemen, we're talking about some MAJOR force projection here, and it's at the fingertips of some very, very unhinged people who jerk themselves off at the idea of burning men like Jensen at the stake. No, I think we're better off leaving Jensen right where he is, where he is doing a lot of good. And besides, making Jensen a Spectre just heaps a galaxy's worth of responsibility on his shoulders. If you want to make up for ratting him out on Elysium, Anderson, you should just buy him a rendez-vous with the consort."

"How in the hell did you know about-"

Hein waved his hand dismissively. "A little bird told me. Now as for Johan, well, I know next to nothing about the guy, but I'll just say one thing: It doesn't matter how much control you think you have over your pet, Hackett. People have a way of going...off the rails, especially when you least expect it."

And with that, Anderson was overruled, Hein's warning was ignored, and Ramsus made the list. As the progress bar on Udina's laptop made its way to a hundred percent, Anderson silently prayed that the Council would select the one of the other candidates.

"Gentlemen," said Udina. "I have to meet with the Council: I have no doubt they'll make their decision soon. Feel free to stay here a bit longer and make yourselves comfortable – my liquor cabinet is open."

Hein clapped his hands, almost ecstatic. "Oh good! I haven't had a decent drink since-"

"-Except you, Hein." Udina pointed at the door. "Get the hell out of my office."

The DARPA chief put on the saddest, most dishonest pout he could manage. "D'aw, Udina. And here I thought we were friends." Before Hein could make more light of Udina, his Omni-tool bleeped: he had just received a message. He read it all in one second. "But before I go...Anderson? I've had the wetware removed from Shepard's body. You can go and claim the body for a burial at sea. Or space. Whatever."

A flash of anger came over Anderson's face, at which Hein backed away a bit with his hands raised defensively. "Now, now! I was doing you a favor- I hear the AIA and Alliance R&D were very curious as to why Shepard could output more newtons than than an Asari Adept, and now that I've 'spoiled the goods', they won't spend months prodding her corpse with electrodes in an attempt to figure out why."

Anderson's anger gave way to confusion as Hein put a hand on Anderson's shoulder. "You're welcome. Go and put her to rest." And with that, Hein left Udina's office. Udina followed him out the exit, no doubt to make sure he wouldn't come back and raid his liquor cabinet.

"Thousands of people died on Eden Prime," said Hackett as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "And our world just fucking watches. Then Hein lets it slip that there's an opening for a human Spectre and then all of a sudden Earth scrambles for it. Hmph! Care for a drink?"

"Sure," answered Anderson, nodding. Hackett poured another drink and handed it to his old friend.

"So, what do you think about Hein?"

"First impression? He's an asshole."

Hackett laughed. "Ha! Yeah, that word pretty much sums up half of his character. The other word is crazy. Just be glad he's not off his meds. All things considered, though, he's not doing too bad for someone suffering from Beacon Contact Syndrome."

Anderson had heard the story about some hotheaded UNAS military pencil pusher barging in on an experiment involving the Prothean beacon on Mars and getting his brain fried (some people say it exploded). Was that Hein? Anderson didn't bother asking: He was more concerned about the Alliance's Spectre candidate.

"Ramsus, Hackett? Of all the fine men and women in the Alliance Navy you pick Ramsus? Why?"

Hackett downed his drink in one gulp and set down the glass on Udina's desk. "Because he's what we need: A killer, not a hero. Heroes feel the need to save everyone they can, carry all their burdens even if that's the last thing they need. They get sidetracked. They lose sight of the big picture. Johan won't."

"And what happens if Ramsus goes on a rampage with a Council-approved license to kill?"

"...If we can't control him, then we'll kill him. It's as simple as that."

Anderson set his full glass on the table, next to the empty one. Between Shepard's death, Adam Jensen's situation and Hackett sponsoring a psychopath, he wasn't all that thirsty. "I should go. I have to make arrangements for Shepard's body."

"...Good, good. But while you're at it take the next few days to prep the Normandy to catch a rogue Spectre deep in unfriendly territory. Whoever the Council picks, he or she will need the speed and the stealth only the Normandy can provide."

"Understood, sir." Anderson saluted, leaving Hackett alone with his thoughts.

And his guilt.

"God forgive me," he said out loud to no one.

~[h+]~

Jensen arrived at the embassies. The receptionist told Adam that Pallin was waiting for him and that he was to be directed to the Executor's office immediately. Once there he rang the office's door's bell, and was let in almost immediately.

Pallin was at his desk, naturally, and sitting cross-legged on a white plastic seat across from him was a blonde human woman clad in a form fitting silver catsuit with black thigh-high leather boots and long black silk raglan sleeves connected to the neck by a black lace high-neck collar. The sleeves were a bit loose, and each of them divided into two puffs of cloth by a white ribbon, reminding Jensen of Virago sleeves (and consequently, of the dozens of fashion magazines Megan had left laying around that he had read a century and a half ago).

"Sign here, and here," said Pallin as he handed several datapads to the AIA agent. She would need to fill out a lot of paperwork before having the right to take over a C-Sec investigation (treaty be damned), and then there were the licenses she would need to arm herself legally. To the woman's credit, she filled out the forms with haste and without complaint. Once done, she turned towards Jensen and rose from her chair. Adam had to admit, he was a bit awe struck.

She was undeniably fair, with piercing clear blue eyes the color of the sky. Her voluptuous hourglass figure was balanced out by her considerable height (one meter and eighty three centimeters, by Jensen's estimation), which was propped up by legs half as long as her entire height – an ideal proportion. She smiled at him as she approached with heart-shaped lips on a heart shaped face with her jawline set off by her black lace cravat. Her hair was tied up in a braided coil on the back of her head, with her long bangs side-swept over her right eye.

Adam would have called her European (maybe french) on account of the hair and pale skin, but her face's smooth features and slightly exotic eyes betrayed an Asian ancestry – Korean, perhaps. When she spoke, Adam could easily detect a slight Australian accent, and he decided she must have been born and raised in the OCU.

"You must be the famous Adam Jensen." she said as she held out her hand. "Sarah Walker, Alliance Intelligence."

Adam took a step back and merely nodded.

"...Have I said something wrong?"

Adam fixed her with a cold stare from behind his shades. "...Your perfume stinks."

Her 'perfume' actually did smell very nice, but it was also laced with some kind of artificial pheromone designed to make human men slightly sweaty and/or compliant. Most people couldn't detect it, but after being swayed and then taken by surprise by Zhao Yun Ru, Jensen had Sarif's techs upgrade the CASIE to detect abnormal levels of pheromones in the air. Agent Walker's proximity set off alarms on Adam's HUD.

Agent Walker smile died and she was, for a moment, not quite sure how to react. It was the first time someone complained about her fine perfume, of all things.

"And here I thought all humans liked the smell of crushed flowers," said Pallin. He sniffled, not looking up from his laptop. "Her scent has been giving me a headache ever since she came in. And in answer to your question, Agent Walker: Yes, that is indeed Adam Jensen." he turned his gaze on Jensen. "Jensen, under the Article 3 subsection 1 of the Treaty of Aken you are hereby assigned to Alliance Intelligence agent Sarah Walker as her C-Sec liaison until the resolution or closure of the Shepard case. The both of you will answer to me directly. Before you resume the investigation the two of you will report to the requisitions office at the C-Sec academy. Any questions?"

"Could I partner up with Garrus? I'd rather have him watch my back."

"Garrus is, at the moment, paying the full price for that corpse business and Dr Michel's clinic."

~[h+]~

Garrus hated Asari children. At fifteen years of age, they didn't quite have enough element zero in their bodies to lift a grown Turian, but an entire class of them coordinating their efforts could easily pull it off. In fact, Garrus was bearing witness to fact at this very moment. Pallin had sent Garrus to an asari school for a presentation on safety (don't talk to strangers, look both ways before crossing the street and all that crap). Halfway through the presentation that milquetoast of a school teacher lost control of her class when the students got into their tiny heads that now was the time to play 'toss the Turian'. Floating in mid-air, Garrus had come to a personal revelation.

He would kill Pallin. He would get through this, and he would kill Pallin.

"Let's toss him through the window!" one of the children cheerfully shouted.

Oh yes, there would be a reckoning for this.

~[h+]~

"Still," continued Pallin, "he's technically back on active duty. I'll let you know when you can call on him. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing?" asked Walker. "How much equipment will C-Sec provide me with?"

"An Omni-Tool optimized for detective work, a gun, and a shield. Anything more will have to come out of your own pocket."

"...Understood."

"Good. You're both dismissed."

~[h+]~

Samesh Bhatia rubbed his hands worriedly. Had he made a mistake enlisting the aid of that marine? By some miraculous coincidence, he had caught sight of Gunnery Chief Williams – a good friend of his late wife – a few minutes ago at the embassy's entrance. She had listened to his plight, and her superior officer had been gracious in giving her free reign to deal with Samesh's situation. But when she had confided in him that she might have to get a little rough with the diplomat that stonewalled him, the blood fled from his face a little. If she started an incident, he would never be able to put his wife to rest...

Samesh caught sight of a man in a brown leather coat speaking tersely to a woman – a very beautiful blonde woman – and he recognized the man instantly: It was detective Adam Jensen. What luck! Perhaps he could prevent a disaster! Samesh called out to him.

"Mist- I mean, Detective Jensen! A moment of your time?"

Jensen approached Samesh. "Is there something I can help you with, mister...?"

Goodness, the man was tall. Jensen's companion approached as well, coming in close enough for Samesh to catch the sweet scent of her perfume. For a brief moment Samesh had forgotten that he was in mourning, and his shame brought him back down to earth.

"...Bhatia. Samesh Bhatia. I need your help in a delicate situation."

"I'm listening."

"My wife, Nirali, was one of the soldiers that fell in the defense of Eden Prime. I made a request to the Alliance military that my wife's body be returned to me for cremation. It seemed my request was granted as her body was delivered here on the Citadel, but then I received an email saying that my wife's body would be handed over to some organization called Darpa for study. Handed over! like some piece of- of cargo! And with no justification whatsoever!"

"...I'm just a cop, Mister Bhatia. I don't have any pull with the Alliance."

"I know that! I wasn't finished! I was being stonewalled for days by some man named Bosker, and just as I was about ready to give up a marine, one of my wife's fellows on Eden Prime, listened to my story and decided to do something about it. Something violent, I suspect: she was far more outraged at the treatment of my wife's body than I. Please, I just need you to make sure she doesn't do anything rash. If she does Bosker will likely have me arrested and...All hope of putting my wife's soul to rest will be gone. Please..."

"Jensen." The woman seemed annoyed by Samesh's plea. "As...sad as this is, we have work to do. If there's any violence the guards will handle it."

"I'll go and make sure nothing happens, Mister Bhatia."

The woman was indignant. "Jensen!"

"While I'm at it, I'll see about getting you some answers. I can't promise that I'll be able to have your wife's body returned, but..."

Samesh was nonetheless grateful. "Answers, at this point, are more than I could ever hope for. Thank you, mister Jensen. Miss Williams and Mister Bosker are at that expensive bar in the embassy, on the left of the receptionist and up the stairs."

Jensen nodded at Bhatia, then addressed the woman "This won't take long, I'll meet you at C-Sec Academy's armory." And without even waiting for her reply, he made his way to the bar.

"It better not, Jensen!" She threw a slightly dirty look at Samesh before leaving the embassy, and the widower gulped a little. What had he gotten in the way of?

~[h+]~

The door hissed open and Jensen entered the embassy lounge. Like every other part of the embassy, it was almost entirely made of plastic. The walls were plastic, the chairs and tables were plastic, the bar was plastic and some of the people were plastic (figuratively speaking, of course). It was one of the reasons Jensen hated coming to the Presidium.

And speaking of plastic people, Clerk Bosker noticed Adam just as he entered, and put his phone back into his pocket. Adam didn't like Bosker: every word the man said, no matter of apologetic or empathetic, felt disingenuous. Also, his purple suit made him look stupid.

"Mister Jensen! Thank goodness you're here! Chief Williams just... accosted me a moment ago, she was very angry."

"Yeah, apparently the Alliance has a thing for dead bodies."

"...Ah, I see you've spoken to Bhatia about this, it's a sad-"

"Save it. Where's the marine?"

Bosker's eyes widened a bit, he wasn't used to being interrupted. "I..." he rubbed the back of his head. "I was afraid for my well being so I directed her towards the Chief of DARPA. He's right over there, along with his bodyguard."

Bosker pointed at two women who were staring each other down. One of them was clad in Phoenix armour with an arsenal strapped to her back. The other was wearing USMC fatigues - a blue t-shirt and pants with black combat boots and she had a knife (decorated with a green jewel hanging from the pommel, strangely enough) strapped to her left bicep and a heavy pistol on her belt. They were arguing with words right now, but they were really itching to do it with their fists. Or their weapons.

"And you wound up making a bad situation worse. Great. Stay here, I'll handle this."

~[h+]~

Corporal Jane "Spirit" Proudfoot didn't like Alliance Marines. For one thing they kept themselves in shape thanks to their gene therapy. Sure, they went through Basic (any decent military put their recruits through it) but once the muscles and endurance set in, they stayed in as long as the injections kept coming. Keeping in shape the hard way was a mark of pride in the United States Marine Corps, and Jane was proud to carry on the tradition.

The second thing she didn't like about Alliance soldiers? The confidence. They acted tough, they talked to Jane as if they were veterans. Fuckers didn't know war as Jane knew it. She had fought off Red Tribesmen intent on making her their war bride. She had survived the Thresher Maws of Akuze. She had survived the Venezuela Uprising. Scaring off pirates and fighting robots didn't impress her, and they had failed miserably at Eden Prime. Way she heard it, it was Shepard that stopped the city of Constant from becoming a smoking crater while what was left of the planetary defense force ran for the hills.

Third, their women looked like porn stars. Ditto for their men. This Williams was a fine example of this: big glossy lips and double D's packed under a 'breastplate', part of a white and pink armor that hugged her body as if it was painted on her.

"Let me talk to him. Right. Now."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes."Yeah, I'm just going to let walk up to my boss while you're packing an arsenal. Back. Off. He's not in the mood for a chat, Allie."

"My name is Ashley," the alliance marine growled.

"Don't give two shits what your name is, Allie. Go away."

"Do you know what he did? He took a soldier's body away from a grieving husband! I know for a fact that the USMC treat their honored dead better than that! And you're going to let him get away with it?"

"Our honored dead are just that, honored. They were real soldiers, not a bunch of a swimsuit models who were fooled into thinking they were cut out for war through VR sims and gene mods! You, Bhatia and the rest of you gun toting wannabes haven't been through even a tenth of what I've been through. I lost comrades to monsters! Your dead were done in by a bunch of robots. They aren't even close to being honored! "

Williams drew back her fist and hurled it towards Jane's face. Before it could land, a cold black hand, hard as steel, seized Williams' fist and stopped it halfway to its intended destination.

"Play. Nice." commanded the tall man in the brown leather coat.

~[h+]~

"Let me go, right now you cog piece of- ah!" Jensen squeezed her hand harder before Ashley could finish.

"You really didn't want to finish that sentence. And you," Adam turned to the bodyguard, who had a hand on her knife, ready to be drawn. "Hands off the knife."

"Says who?" challenged the US marine.

Adam parted his coat with his free hand, revealing the badge on his belt. "Says the police." The woman complied, and Jensen let go of Williams' fist.

"Detective Adam Jensen. I have a few questions for your boss.

"He's right this way," answered the bodyguard. She motioned to man behind her, sitting on a plastic couch with a datapad on one hand and a glass of whiskey on the other.

Williams was indignant. "You stonewall me but you let him through?!"

The bodyguard shrugged. "You don't have a badge, Allie."

Jensen approached the man in the long black leather coat and cleared his throat, getting his attention. The man was looking intently at the scan of a human's brain. Adam cleared his throat again.

"I heard you the first time," responded the DARPA chief. He turned off the datapad and put in in his coat's inner pocket and took another sip of his drink. "You know, you really shouldn't have interfered."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That argument was shaping up to turn into some fine girl-on-girl action!" he smiled. "I have to pay for a show like that anywhere else!"

"This isn't the red light district."

"I know, and yet...everyone around us were just staring at the whole thing, secretly hoping things would turn violent. I don't blame them: The Presidium has got to be the most boring place in the galaxy, ever!"

"We had a riot in Upper Zakera a while back, maybe that's more your speed?"

Hein looked up, as if considering the idea. "Hm, I think I'll pass. Although..." the man put his drink on his chair's armrest and he rose from his seat, standing tall in front of the C-Sec officer. "I heard you had a little something to do with that bit of excitement, Mister Jensen..." He held out his hand. "Colonel Edgar Hein, United States Marine Corps and head of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency."

Adam shook Hein's hand. "I'm here for Samesh. Is there a reason why you're withholding his wife's body?"

"Ah, that. Did Bosker explain anything to you?"

"No, I was sidetracked by the girl-on-girl."

Hein smirked at that. "Well, Nirali Bhatia's body is one of the few mostly intact subjects Alliance R&D has managed to find. The rest of the dead on Eden Prime were either burned to a crisp or turned into cyborg zombies. Alliance R&D has its hands full trying to figure out the zombie part. The burned to a crisp part is pretty obvious: flamethrowers. But Bhatia?...Bhatia was shot to death with a Geth Pulse weapon, and we haven't been able to figure out how those work or exactly what they shoot. Bullets? Plasma? Particles? Bhatia's body may provide the answer and in the answer lies a defense. And it's my job to figure those out."

"Couldn't you have explained that to Bhatia? I'm sure he would have understood if it was for the greater good."

Hein laughed. "It wasn't my job to explain, it was Bosker's! But that boy just couldn't resist being all..." he waved his fingers."...seeeeeecretiive, ooooOOOooooh... Then again, I doubt any grieving husband wants to hear that his wife's dead body is going to be used for experiments, though. Not sure I get it, either. The brain's gone completely cold, and the person that she was..." for a brief instant Adam thought he could pick up a hint of...sorrow? In the man's voice? But it was gone so fast it might as well have not been there. "...is gone. All that's left is a mass of tissue."

"Wouldn't a Geth weapon be a more appropriate for research? Shoot a pig with one, and Nirali Bhatia's body becomes redundant."

"Who do you think you're talking to, here? We tried that: those guns we recovered don't work. Can't figure out why, and believe me, we tried to make them work. Bhatia's body is the only viable sample we've got. I'm sorry but there's simply no compromise to be had here. Mister Bhatia wants his wife back? Too bad. The lives of thousands of Williams' fellow marine depends on DARPA keeping that body."

Williams, who had overheard him was furious. "You soulless, unfeeling asshole!"

"I prefer to think of myself as more of a jerk."

"I am NOT leaving without Bhatia's body!"

"...Riiight, because I have it right here in my left pocket. You're going to be here a while."

Adam took control of the situation. "Both of you, quiet!" He considered his options, but it looked like the only way he could prevent even more violence is to arrest her, but Adam really, really didn't want to deal with the Alliance right now. And then there was Samesh... There had to be a way for everyone to come out on top.

"Williams. How is Zorah doing?"

"Now is not the time for-"

"Just answer the question."

"...She's fine. Last I checked she was conscious." She left out the part where the quarian girl had been asking about the 'man in blue'.

Hein raised an eyebrow. "You're going somewhere with this, aren't you?"

"Tali'Zorah was the one that extracted the evidence against Saren from a Geth data core," answered Adam.

"Ah...the quarian pilgrim. Definitely a cut above her species: Geth data cores wipe themselves once the body has been compromised. But I was under the impression she had moved on with her pilgrimage?"

"She's recovering on the Normandy. If anyone has a shot at making those Geth weapons work, it's her. If she gives you a working Geth weapon, you can let Bhatia come home."

Hein scratched his chin. "...And I could definitely use some of that famed Quarian wizardry on the Durendal. Mister Jensen, I think you've got yourself a deal." He held out his hand.

"Hold on, I don't speak for Zorah. You'll have to cut a deal with her personally."

"Oh. Shouldn't be too hard," he leaned in close, conspiring. "Those Quarians would work for a bag of peanuts!"

Adam said nothing and simply frowned at him. Hein backpedaled and put his hands up defensively. "Kidding! I'll have a fair contract written up for her, and that's a promise. Do I look like some Coalition Commie to you? I'm a UNAS capitalist, Jensen! I'm all about fair wage labour! Miss Williams, take me to the Normandy! Mister Jensen has..."

As the Colonel made his way out of the embassy lounge with his bodyguard and Williams in tow, Adam sighed with relief. He may not be quite done dealing with the Alliance, but he hoped that was the last time he'd have to deal with Edgar Hein.

~[h+]~

"Well, it's about time," Walker said to Jensen as he approached. She had been waiting next to the door leading to C-Sec Academy's Requisitions Office. She apparently wasn't allowed in there without the supervision of a C-Sec officer, and when she had tried to get several random officers to help her out, they had all replied they had business to attend to and could not afford to be sidetracked. If only all C-Sec officers were like that...

"It's twenty minutes on foot from here to the embassies." answered Adam as he put his badge on the door's scanner. "I was five minutes behind you. You couldn't wait five minutes?"

"I took a cab to get here," she countered, annoyed.

"Again, twenty lousy minutes on foot."

"...Let's just get my gear."

The C-Sec requisitions office at first looked like a small empty room, with only a brown turian with white markings at his desk inside of it. Behind the turian, however, was a wall of reinforced glass, and beyond it was a large warehouse filled with lockers and shelves full of mostly civilian-grade weapons and miscellaneous equipment. The turian looked up from his laptop and greeted Adam immediately.

"Jensen! Huh. I hardly ever see you down here."

"It's not like I wasn't expected."

"Right you are, Pallin did say you were coming." He nodded at Walker. "And this must be the Alliance Intel agent.

"Sarah Walker. A pleasure. I believe you have something for me?"

"I have something for you both as a matter of fact, but first, hold on a moment."

The clerk pushed a few buttons on his laptop and began a background check. He was done in less than a minute.

"Alright, the both of you check out. Sorry about that, Adam, procedures have to be followed." He withdrew a small strongbox from beneath his desk and opened it. Inside of it was a black shoulder holster, a long handgun, a spare ammo block, a box of 10mm concussion rounds, and a shield emitter meant to be mounted on the belt. "The Murphy Arms Cerebus mark IV medium pistol. Better punch than your old Mk.23. Has single and three-shot burst firing modes and comes with an under-slung low-power coilgun for specialized ammo pre-installed."

Adam whistled. "How many Requisition Points is that gonna cost me?"

"Not a damned thing. Pallin wanted you to have extra firepower. He seemed to think you'll be needing it."

Adam took the contents of the box. While he was busy putting on the shoulder holster and shield, the clerk withdrew another box. Inside it was a Logic Arrest mk III Omni Tool, a shield, and a Elanus Risk Control Series 500 light pistol. "And this is for you, Agent Walker. Standard gear for a C-Sec detective. Omni-Tool comes with a Venator '86 software suite."

Walker took everything except the Omni-Tool. "No need for the Logic Arrest. I've got a Nexus mark VI."

The turian shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you need anything extra or better, let me know. We've got quite a bit of surplus for sale. Speaking of which, Jensen? You've built up quite a score of points over the years. Five thousand RPs, enough to outfit a Special Response squad. Sure you don't want to spend some?"

"Did any human hardsuits come in?" asked Adam.

The clerk shook his head. "No, sorry. We're actually all kinda strapped for hardsuits. All I could give Garrus was an Agent mk I with a kinetic buffer mod in exchange for that stripped down Phantom...Damned budget cuts."

After putting on his gear, Adam spent points on a new stunner and some medi-gel. Walker traded in the light pistol for a Kessler VI, a telescopic baton, and a brown synthetic leather leg bag, as her outfit didn't have a whole lot of storage room. Thus outfitted, the pair left the requisitions office, ready to start the investigation. They were at a transit terminal, and Jensen summoned an X3m cab.

"So," asked Adam. "Where to?"

"From what I've read from your files, you've got three leads, and the best of them is tracking down that Alliance surplus gear the killer had been using."

"I'll set the destination for Decanus Ordo's store. Apparently he's the only one on the Citadel with a license to sell Alliance gear. Speaking of gear, you're certain you don't want to purchase a hardsuit? I'm sure requisitions has got an Asari suit that'll..." he looked at Sarah, from head to toe. "...fit?"

"I think I'll save my money, thanks. Besides, what are the odds of us getting caught up in a firefight?"

~[h+]~

Three hours later...

The Blue Suns rifleman squad had Adam and Sarah pinned down with controlled bursts from their Avenger assault rifles. Adam spotted a trio of shotgun wielding mercs trying to flank them. Jensen pulled out Sasha, took aim, and shot one of them in the groin. He went down screaming. The assault squad took cover, and the riflemen went full auto. It wouldn't be long before that crate of dirt Adam and Sarah were using as cover couldn't soak in the bullets anymore.

Jensen threw a dirty look at Walker. "Remember what you said at the academy?" he shouted over the noise of gunfire. "I'd say that answers your question!"

~[h+]~

Author's notes: 'Sasha' apparently means "defender" and "helper of humanity". There's also a sword in the Final Fantasy series called Defender, so that's a nice little unintentional and stealthy shout-out.

Sorry if that hasn't quite fulfilled the quota of investigation and shooting I promised. I'll remedy that in the next chapter.

Adam's outfit in this chapter is pretty much Aidan Pierce's from Watch_Dogs. I am SO looking forward to that game.