John, SR2 Normandy, Citadel

"Aaaand, we are in system," Joker nodded, satisfied. "Getting data now...huh...looks like your Spectre codes still work. You'd think they would have done something about that."

"Yeah, well, I think we can just accept this as an omen of good fortune," John chuckled from behind the pilot.

"Getting data feeds now…" Gerald sighed from the tactical station. "Ooo...fair warning Commander, the Orizaba is on station."

"Shit," John cursed under his breath. "Not what I need right now."

"Oh, come on Commander," Joker grinned over his shoulder. "Don't want to chat with dear old mother?"

"Shut up and fly the ship Joker," John growled as he turned on his heel and headed back aft, pausing only as he passed Gerald's station. "Really Gerald? Already on Galaxy of Fantasy?"

"Hey!" Gerald grunted, not looking up from his screen. "Selling accounts was how I made a living on Omega."

"Yeah, explains the pasty complexion and gut," Garrus chuckled as he walked up to the pair. "Who do you want to go with you Boss?"

"Not it!" Gerald called, his eyes still locked on his screens, eliciting an eye roll from John.

"You and me, and probably Doctor Solus We're going to connect with Anderson, then the Council. Have the rest of the ground team hit the station. Scour for gear, upgrades and such."

Edi's orb appeared on a holopad near the station, drawing the pair's attention. "Commander, Sergeant Gardner has put in a request for fresh provisions."

"Yeah," Garrus nodded. "That would be a good idea. The pack rations are getting old, and there wasn't much to work with on the dextro end anyway."

"Fine, I could use a change as well," John chuckled. "Okay Edi, send out the reprovision order."

"Acknowledged Commander," Edi blipped out.

"I'll get the doc ready, meet you at the lock," Garrus waved as he headed off to make his preparations.

With a nod to himself, John walked back to the elevator, pressing the button for Deck 1.

As the doors closed and the lift began to move a thought occurred to John. "Hey, Edi?"

"Yes, Commander?" the ship's AI answered.

"Before I got blown up, I had gathered a fairly decent amount of credits. Are any of those accounts active?"

"Most of your assets were passed on to your family, as per your Last Will, and Testament," Edi came back after the barest of pauses. "However, it seems a pair of accounts on Noveria have been left alone, and continue to collect interest."

"Perfect," John grinned as he rubbed his hands together. "How much do I have to work with?"

"One million, seven hundred and sixty-five thousand, three hundred and ninety-four," Edi said simply. "And point five."

John blinked dumbfounded as the doors to his cabin opened. "What the shit?"

Docking Bay 94, Citadel Station

"I'm sorry sir," the human woman that manned the customs kiosk sighed. "By station regulation, you must turn over any biotic amps, firearms or other weapons."

"I'm not even biotic!" a finely dressed turian yelled as he slammed a fist down on the desk. "You humans are all racist!"

"Sir, for the final time," the woman spoke through her teeth now, clearly having a problem holding in her own temper. "I am simply telling you the regulation."

"Yeah right!" the turian yelled again. "I don't see you stopping that human, and he's covered in guns!"

"I...wait...what?" the woman blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of target. Turning, she followed the turian's finger and caught her breath. "Hey! You can't go into the station armed and in armor!"

"What?" Garrus looked back in confusion before sharing a look with John.

"Huh, must have tightened security since the geth attack," John shrugged as he walked over to the desk. "Ma'am, run codes SCT-99012."

"Hey! You can't cut in line!" the turian yelled, seemingly to find an even higher volume.

"Holy shit!" the woman cursed, her eyes wide as dinner plates. "He sure as fuck can! Um..yes, sir...Spectre..sir...go right ahead!"

"Thanks," John smiled warmly as he turned away to rejoin his team. "Well...that went well."

"Interesting. Humans have filled many of the vacancies left after the geth assault on the Citadel. Their Fleets have also taken a turn patrolling the station space," Mordin nodded. "Good on them."

As the team walked through the scanner, a red light flashed as the turian officer at the console blinked once at the panel, then up to John. "Huh."

Raising an eyebrow, John crossed his arms and sighed. "Okay, now what's wrong?"

"Seems you're dead," the turian shrugged. "But this is above my paygrade, so I'm passing you off to Captain Bailey. He will be on the other side there."

"Okay...let's go see what the next obstacle is," Garrus chuckled. "Everything's already over complicated. Just like old times."

"Shut up Garrus," John said, with a grin.

Captain Armando Bailey, Zakera Ward, Citadel

"Captain, sending you somebody to look at, it's beyond me," Sergeant Killg announced abruptly.

"Wait, what?" Bailey grunted as information popped on his terminal. It wasn't the first time that Killg had pushed through an inconvenient situation. Last time the asshole saddled me with a krogan with scale-rot….

However, this time, as Bailey scanned the information, he felt his eyebrows go higher, then higher on his forehead. "Holy shit…." he muttered as he spun his chair around, just as the doors opened.

And standing there was Commander John Shepard, humanity's first Spectre, and walking dead man. With him, a bit scarred, was one of the other Saviours of the Citadel, Garrus. Along with the rather illustrious pair was a salarian, who, considering the company, seemed rather unassuming.

Garrus, Bailey knew. Not personally, but by virtue of working in C-Sec, he had heard a lot about the turian. He was a results oriented kind of person, the kind of turian Bailey could understand. Sometimes you needed to bend a few rules to beat the bad guys.

"Well, I'll be," Bailey nodded as he leaned back in his chair, trying not to look as impressed as he felt. "You certainly are you, Commander. Scanners can tell down to genetic markers."

"I...okay," Shepard frowned slightly. "So, what do I do now?"

"Well," Bailey looked up at the ceiling theatrically. "First stop would be Finances...turns out being dead for a year or two is a popular tax dodge...then back here, some paperwork. That get sent to medical, they do another round of gene testing. Then back here, more paperwork. Then you go off to legal, so they can put in for a 'back to life' hearing. Which would probably be about six months. Assuming you didn't get denied your first go through, which is about ninety percent of the time. Then back here, we start the process all over again…"

As he spoke, Bailey watched Shepard's eyes narrow, and narrow, and narrow some more, until they had become pinpricks in his sockets. Then, and only then, did Bailey decided to throw the man a rope.

"Or," Bailey said, holding a finger over a button on his console. "I just press this button and make it all go away."

"Spirits," Garrus groaned. "Lead with that next time!"

"Yeah…" Shepard nodded with a smirk. "How about you do that, and I'll owe you one."

With a wink, Bailey pressed the button, and probably saved the galaxy.

John

"That seemed a bit...sketchy," John frowned slightly as the team stepped out into the Ward proper. "I mean...it certainly helped me there, but…"

"Nah," Garrus chuckled, waving a hand. "This is Zakera Ward. It's a lot like those old vid serials, were a rogue cop, two months till retirement, teams up with a young by the books officer to take down the mob boss."

"Really," John said dryly.

"Honest, it actually happened here once," Garrus smirked.

"Commander," Mordin broke in, gesturing to one of the vid ads on a pillar nearby. "That particular ad seems to be wanting your attention. And not in the normal, irritating manner."

"What?" John looked over to see a woman, a hood low over her eyes. A small squared tattoo in John's prefered shade of purple adorned her full lips, which were currently gently curved into a small smile. "I...see…"

"Welcome, Commander Shepard!," the 'Ad' said. "Speak the password and receive a glorious free prize!"

"I doubt the prize is really free. And to call yourself 'glorious' is setting the bar awfully high, Miss Goto," John said, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry," the 'Ad' smirked even more impishly. "That is the wrong password."

"Do we really have to do this?" John asked, glancing at Garrus, who stood grinning.

"Aww, come of Boss, play along!" Garrus encouraged. "We've to get our fun someplace."

"Why do I even bother…" John muttered as he turned back to stare at the far to pleased with itself, 'Ad'. "Silence is Golden."

"See, wasn't so bad," the ad's voice said next to him, as a smallish human woman decloaked next to him. She stood with her hip cocked to one side, her arms crossed over her chest, in an imitation of John, also facing the ad vid. Which had now gone back to its regular rotating adverts.

Slowly, John let out a breath as he shook his head. "Well, as long as you got your fun, I suppose."

"Quite!" Kasumi grinned up at John. "Now, Cerberus spent a lot of money tracking me down so I could help you. And they gave me an offer I couldn't refuse. So, I guess I'm all yours. Hands to yourself though, mister."

"Heh," John snorted. "I am going to make wild guess and assume Cerberus promised you I would do something."

"Ah…" Kasumi's smile dipped for a moment as she sighed. "Yes, and it looks like they didn't tell you."

"Nope, but that's fine. As long as we aren't robbing someplace, it should be fine," John said, nodding.

"Awww, Boss," Garrus sighed, shaking his head. "Now you went and jinxed it."

With a from, John looked between the turian and Kasumi, before realization set in. "You need to steal something…."

"Heh, afraid so," Kasumi chuckled as she patted John's forearm. "But don't worry. It's something that belongs to me, and it's being held by a very bad man."

"How bad are we talking," Garrus asked, a little bit of concern creeping into his voice. "On a scale of one to Saren?"

"Hmm…" Kasumi tapped her cheek with a finger as she considered. "I would say….less than a Benezia..but more than an Udina."

"Well, sterkre," Garrus cursed. "Could be worse I guess."

"But, in all seriousness Shep," Kasumi turned to face John fully, the smile gone from her face. "It is very important to me. If I'm going to help you, you need to help me."

For a moment John looked into the woman's eyes, gauging the person within, before nodding. "We'll get it done Kasumi. I promise."

"You're my knight in...well...rather fucked up armor, I have to say," Kasumi tilted her head looking over John's well used armor. "You might want to look at replacing that."

Human Embassy, Citadel

"I see the rumors or your demise were greatly exaggerated," Anderson smiled as he stood from behind his desk.

"Well," John shrugged before taking the Councilor's hand in a firm shake. "They were pretty spot on, actually. I just got better."

"So I see," Anderson nodded as he glanced at Garrus. "And good to see you as well, I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more for you. You deserved better."

"Bah," Garrus waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Worked out for the best in the end."

"So I see," Anderson chuckled. "At least women tend to like scars."

"See, Shepard? I told you!" Garrus said excitedly as he slapped John's arm.

"Yes, yes, you'll be drowning in women in no time," John rolled his eyes before gesturing to Mordin. "And this is Professor Mordin Solus. He is part of my team. I'm hoping his skills will help us counteract whatever the Collectors are using to capture our colonies."

"Pleased to meet you Professor," Anderson nodded. "I heard you were coming and already set up a meeting of the Council. I don't think we will be able to get much out of them, but if nothing else, we can get your Spectre status reengaged."

"Yay, my favorite," Garrus deadpanned. "I don't suppose any of them are, new? Maybe a sexy lady, or something?"

"Ah, saw the last Blasto movie, I take it," Anderson smirked. "But, no. No, the Council is the same as before. I just get to yell at them more openly."

"Well, then," John rubbed his hands together briefly. "Let's get to it, I guess."

"Sure, but one thing, Shepard," Anderson shook his head, a look of concern on his face. "Maybe when we finish, you could get some new armor?"

"Oh, goddess…."

One Long Meeting Later

"Well I see that Councilor Valern is still a cloaca," Mordin sighed as the group exited the elevator.

"Yeah…" John nodded as he ran the meeting over in his mind. Was there something he could have said? Some evidence that would make them listen to reason? No. No, there wasn't. The Council seemed to be intentionally closing their eyes to the Reaper threat. And it was going to get the Galaxy destroyed for it.

"Relax, Boss," Garrus said, nudging John out of the elevator. "If nothing else, they reinstated your Spectre status. Now you get to play with the big toys again."

"Yeah, I suppose that's something," John sighed. "I should look into a new armor set. If nothing else, I am getting tired of hearing about it."

"While you attend to that, I will pick up some of the supplies I need," Mordin said as he began to walk away. "Barbara had some requests as well."

"Well, then," Garrus grinned as he shrugged his shoulders, stretching them out after the long, and boring, Council session. "How about we hit a bar, get a few drinks, mabe talk to some ladies…."

John chuckled as he turned to his friend, but before he could speak, a turian in C-Sec armor rounded the corner. As his eyes fell on John, relief could be seen washing over the poor man's face.

"Commander Shepard!" the officer yelled, waving a hand and running over. "Commander! We need your help!"

"What? Why?" John blinked in surprise. "I just got here!"

'Yes, sir," the officer nodded as he skidded to a halt in front of the pair. "But you're a Spectre, and we could use your skills."

"Great," John sighed. "What's going on?"

"Down in the Wards, sir," the officer gasped, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. "In a bar, called The Seedy Tavern…"

"I know the place," Garrus nodded. "Rough place."

"Yeah. My sister took me there once. Ended in a brawl," John winced slightly at the memory.

"Yes, sir, that's the place," the officer nodded. "There is a gun fight!"

"That's...extreme. Even for that place," Garrus's eyes widened as he looked at John. "The gangs take it as mostly neutral ground, bar fights aside."

"Yes, normally," the officer agreed. "But apparently this new gang moved into the area. They call themselves the Tenth Street Reds. Apparently there is an Alliance officer that they have an issue with. From what we have heard, that officer was in the bar and the Reds went in after her. Now it's bullets and bodies everywhere!"

"That sounds pretty bad," John nodded, his hands wringing together in front of him for a moment. "Why come to me?"

"Umm…" the officer looked from John, to Garrus and back again. "The Alliance officer is Captain Hannah Shepard."

Captain Hannah Shepard, The Seedy Tavern, Citadel

It started as a bender, like many others.

In a cold fury, Hannah walked into the bar. The Seedy Tavern. She had heard about it before. Jane had mention it a few times in her messages. Usually, it also involved a bar fight. To be honest, it was that last part that Hannah was hoping to encounter.

Looking around, the place certainly lived up to its name. Cheap, printed tables and chairs. The glasses were large, and heavy, good for throwing, and not breaking easily. It stank of spilled beer, sweat and a faint tinge of blood.

Nodding to herself, Hannah moved to a booth near the back, in a nice, conveniently shadowy corner. Though, honestly, it looked as if the place was designed so that every booth was in a noce shadowy corner. Something about the lighting.

As she sat, a painfully thin asari walked over, briskly. The asari was clearly a waitress, by the dress, and the tray she carried under one arm. A large tray. A large tray that seemed to have a heavy steel rim. A very dented, heavy steel rim.

Approaching, Hannah also noted that the girl had a large jagged scar across her throat, and a very weary look in her eyes. Casually, she pulled a datapad from a pocket of her apron and looked at Hannah expectantly.

"Something strong, Levo, one glass, leave the bottle," Hannah said simply as she unbuttoned her jacket. It was already bad enough that she was in a bar in uniform. And was technically still on duty.

The asari nodded, turned and briskly walked to the bar, giving the order to an older human man. The man, himself, was older, short gray hair rimmed an otherwise bald head. A thick mustache covered nearly half the man's face, but it was well groomed and swept neatly to the sides. Probably had some sort of wax. For the life of her, Hannah could not understand the appeal of facial hair, and every time she saw a man like that one, she was glad to be female.

Hannah tossed her coat to the side as the asari returned with the bottle and glass. When she saw Hannah's white tank top and bare, strong arms, she smirked slightly and gave a small wink before returning to her duty.

Still got it, Hannah chuckled to herself. Her arms weren't nearly as large, or defined as Jane's, of course. That girl took a bit too much after her father for Hannah's taste, but they were still defined, and strong. Keeping up with Hestalia, if nothing else, pretty well required it.

Her chest though….That was probably what caught Hestalia's attention in the first place. Being tall and...busty...tended to make Hannah stick out. Something Jane often complained about.

Then, after being about half a bottle in, it hit her.

With a small wave, Hannah caught the asari's attention, summoning her to the table with a curious expression.

"You...you're Kallesta….right?" Hannah asked, gesturing to the woman with a full glass.

Her eyes narrowing slightly, the asari gave a tentative nod.

"Ha! Thought so!" Hannah laughed as she downed her drink. "Name's Hannah. I'm Jane's mother."

At Hannah's revelation, the asari, Kallesta's face rapidly changed to a large smile. Clutching the tray to her chest, the girl, as she suddenly seemed more of a girl now that she wasn't so on guard, bit her lip slightly as she looked questioningly at the seat across from Hannah.

Catching the look, Hannah nodded with a smirk. "Sit on down. Remember, I'm married though," Hannah winked as she poured another drink and slid it to the girl.

Kallesta laughed silently and rolled her eyes as she picked up the glass and downed in one go. As she slapped the glass back down, she screwed up her face and shook her head slightly.

"Not your thing, eh," Hannah chuckled. "Can't say I blame you. Say...you don't have kids do you?"

A shadow slid across Kallesta's face for a moment before she shook her head. Slowly, she held up her hand and held in as if it was a knife. Slowly, she slid it across her throat, over the large scar, the jabbed twice at her lower belly. Finally, she made a gesture like something spilling from her stomach.

"Ah...well...shit, I stepped into it there," Hannah grimaced as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Sorry, didn't mean to poke where I shouldn't."

Smiling again, Kallesta shook her head and tapped out a message on her datapad and slid it over to Hannah.

It's fine. Old wounds. Not sore anymore. Jane saved me. Are you alright?

With a smirk, Hannah waved a hand at the girl. "You're tough beans, kid. I'm fine. Got good news. Just from an annoying source. Mother's worries and all."

Frowning slightly, Kallesta nodded gravely for a moment before reaching for the datapad again. But, as she began to type a loud, angry voice bellowed across the rather quiet bar.

"Hey! You that Shepard Bitch?!" a large dirty man stood a couple of meters from the booth. His voice raised unnecessarily for the distance. He clearly was making a statement. The three, well, not men, but older boys behind the man also leered at the two women.

"I said, ain't you that Shepard Bitch!" the man yelled again, making Hannah squeeze her eyes shut, if only from the smell of the man's breath. "I ain't gonna ask you again!"

"Goddess, if I say yes, will you talk in a different direction?" Hannah asked desperately, trying to cover her nose. "Ugh...I feel like I can taste it when you talk!"

The bar erupted in laughter as the man turned a bright red. Then with a snarl, the man drew a pistol, aiming it at Hannah's head. Immediately, the bar went silent.

"Yeah!" the man sneered. "Not so lippy now, is you? Yeah, you bitch, the Tenth Street Reds, we remember you. We got some things we all wanna do with you, bitch!" The man punctuated his vulgar words by grabbing at his crotch, the boys behind him leering.

"I'm going to have to give that a hard 'NO', I'm afraid," Hannah said coldly. "I suggest you walk away while you are still breathing. Just...breath in another direction."

"You BITCH!" the man roared as he thrust his gun forward, his finger pulling the trigger.

And shot into the ceiling.

Kallesta turned and swung her heavy tray, smashing the man's hand and sending his shot wild. Then, with a smooth motion, spun her tray around, slamming it into the man's stomach, knocking the foul breath from him.

That was the moment that Hannah would describe as 'when everything went crazy'.

As the man stumbled back, the three boys behind him drew their own cheap pistols, ready to gun down the hapless waitress. However, before they could fire, Hannah kicked the table over in their direction, pushing them back, as she grabbed Kallesta by the back of her shirt and drug her behind the makeshift cover.

"Thanks, I really didn't need that particular smell," Hannah grinned as she winked at Kallesta. In return, the asari gave a half apologetic, half irritated look.

That was when the guns barked, rounds striking the table, shaking it, but not penetrating.

"Huh, either good table, or bad guns…" Hannah said, looking at the cover surprised.

Kallesta shrugged and made a seesaw gesture.

"Bit of both, huh," Hannah nodded. "Well, how about I end this quick?" Reaching behind her back, Hannah drew a small pistol. The gun wasn't very large, but it bore all the indication of extensive use. And modifications.

Surprised, Kallesta nodded, before grinning.

With a final wink, Hannah's face set in a hard look of concentration as she suddenly stood. Startled, the boys, and now the dirty man, fired blindly at her. They handled their pistols as if they were trying to throw the bullets at her. One of the boys even held his gun sideways, like he probably saw in the vids.

Hannah, however, did not move. Bullets zipped past her. One lucky shot even grazed her hair, long red strands drifted through the air.

Then she fired.

Actually, it was rather anticlimactic. Hannah's arm snapped up as she fired four shots.

*bang* *bang* *bang* *bang*

Four bodies fell to the floor, a single hole in each person's forehead.

"Pft," Hannah shook her head as she helped Kallesta up. "Ametures."

With a sigh, Kallesta held up her datapad, which read: And I thought they smelled bad on the outside.

"Heh…nice," Hannah chuckled. "I always liked that movie."

Frowning, Kallesta tapped at her pad again: What movie?

The calm, however, was short lived. With a roar, a pair of hover cars landed outside the Tavern with young men leaping from inside.

The men all wore long red coats, just like the four Hannah had just shot. And, honestly, Hannah hadn't paid enough attention to them to notice their clothes.

However, now she noticed a lot of guns.

"Aww….shit…." Hannah groaned as she picked up the four pistols the previous men dropped. "I think you might want to hide in the back, honey." Hannah stepped forward and over the bodies as she tucked guns into the pockets and waistband of her pants, before being stopped by a hand on her arm.

Glancing back, Hannah saw Kallesta frowning at her seriously and shaking her head.

"Kallesta!" the bartender yelled, drawing the women's attention. In his hands was a pair of shotguns, one of which he tossed to Kallesta.

To Hannah's surprise, Kallesta hefted the weapon and unfolded it. Then she gestured between herself and Hannah, then made a gun with her finger, pointing it out the door. Then, looking Hannah in the eye, mimed firing.

"Well, alright," Hannah chuckled and began upturning tables and pushing them in the center of the room. Then, again, she was surprised. This time, various patrons began pulling weapons and moving tables closer together.

"We don't go down easy," a scarred salarian chuckled, seeing Hannah's expresion. "Gangs had an agreement. No guns at this place. These Reds are gonna be so fucked."

"Assuming any of them survive," a young female turian snarled and she hefted what what looked to be a small autocannon. Then with a smug grin, the turian activated a tech armor that glowed a light green. "Pleased to meet you, crazy human," she said, holding out a hand. "Vetra, Vetra Nyx."

"You are all my kind of people," Hannah laughed as she took Vetra's hand. "Captain Hannah Shepard."

"Oh, hey, like the Spectre?" a painfully young human boy asked, his eyes wide behind the overly large pistol he held.

"Yep," Hannah drawled. Goddess...everytime I drink, my accent comes out…. "That's mah boy."

"Well, spirits, these guys are doomed," Vetra laughed.

Then the shooting happened.

Turian Lexicon

Sterkre- Turian for a piece of shit.