Rande's villa sits on top of a plateau twenty-six miles outside of Leo, the capital of Elysium. While it was one of the major colonies targeted by slavers during the Skyllian Blitz seven years previously, it has flourished after the attack was repelled by one Commander Zaria Shepard. You'd think information like that would be something I'd pick up on, but nope. I don't know how I missed that.

Fun fact, the capital is named after the title given to Shepard after her singular defense of Elysium, 'The Lion of Elysium'. There was actually some debate on whether they should call her the 'Lioness', but as she was the only one, and there is only one lion in a pride, so she was called the Lion.

Another fun fact: Since discovering the Asari, almost all of the sexism is gone, being a race entirely made up of women. Before, it was mostly gone due to the passage of time and commons sense, as men finally realized that women were just as dangerous as men, and moreso in some cases.

Something I figured out as a teen.

People, right?

The decorations were rich but understated, all mellow yellows and gold, along with other soothing colors. From what we had discovered, Rande did most of his business transactions from the villa, and had his own personal factory under the plateau, which primarily made the concept cars before being slated for production. A few business journals theorized that it was so because Rande didn't want any industrial spies poaching his concept artists, but I didn't really care. All it told me was that security would be tight, as we expected.

Allison and I would be staying here for three days. The first two nights would be scouting and recon, and the last would be the actual infiltration. On the surface, we would go out and be tourists for a while, before coming back to be spies.

Dinner had been an odd affair. The food was good, no doubt about that, and the conversation was…nice, I guess. I've never been rich. I can play the part, but in the end I've never had the problems that they have. Listening to these people complain about how just under-average their stock is, gossip about other rich people and politics, dear gods, the politics!

Is that what they do for fun?

Besides the wrongness that came from those conversations, something that Allison coasted through like a pro, there was also Rande. I didn't notice it before, but there's something…off about him. He seems kind of naïve at first glance, but there's this glint in his eyes that creeps me out.

Night had fallen and after a nightcap, Allison and I had retreated to our rooms (because it was a suite) for the night.

The smooth surface of the towel brushes over my face as the cold water I splashed across my cheeks is dried away. As I step out of the bathroom, my eyes land on the visage of beauty that is Allison, standing before a window, looking out over the lights of Leo, a thin silk dressing gown hugging her curves wonderfully.

She barely twitches as my arms circle her waist and my lips gently touch her neck. One of her hands comes up and tangles in my hair, her eyes flicking over a screen on her omni-tool.

"Are there any cameras?" I whisper in between kisses to her smooth throat.

Allison taps a few keys, lightly sighing as my hands stroke her stomach through her gown. She throws her head back as my right hand slides under the silk garment to feel her skin directly. "Three. One above the dresser, another over the bed, and one more in the bathroom." She whispers, teeth lightly grazing my earlobe.

I lay kisses along her jaw, lightly brushing my lips against her cheek. "That's really creepy. I think that's why he was staring at everybody during dinner."

Allison turns in my arms so that she's facing me and presses her lips to mine. "Let's go to bed, Leo. We have a long day tomorrow." She says above a whisper.

"True." We move onto the bed and slip under the covers, cuddling together and sinking into the soft bedspread. "Goodnight Allison. I love you." I say, kissing her once more before settling down.

She shifts, pulling one of my arms over her and snuggling back into my chest. "I love you too."

Sleep does not come easy. I've always hated being watched.

…

Sometimes I dream of colors. Not walls of color, but flashes. Red, blue, purple, orange and others.

I don't know why, but every time I do, I feel sad.

Just another weird thing about me, I guess.

…

Miranda woke abruptly during the night, and spent a minute wondering why before a splash of water landed on her neck. Shifting carefully as to not wake her partner, she turned around and came upon an odd sight.

His face wasn't twisted in pain or sadness, and he barely even moved. Yet there were tears sliding down his face.

Miranda's mind churned. She knew he wore a mask, much like she did. Maybe others hadn't seen it, but she knew what an emotional mask looked like; hers was almost surgically attached to her face.

Sometimes there was barely restrained anger behind those eyes, or a sparkle of amusement, like he knew something she didn't. There were those time when they glimmered with…something odd. Miranda didn't want to name it, but it made her stomach flip in a pleasurable way and her cheeks heat up.

There was tension between them, that much was sure. She honestly didn't know how long she could last before their clothes hit the floor and they made a mistake.

Anything between them wouldn't work. Her work as a Cerberus operative was too important, and he was a self-professed man-whore, however jokingly he referred to himself as such.

She was too tired to think about it any further. But in the recesses of her mind, as she snuggled closer to the sleeping man, she wondered…

What did Saul dream of that made him cry?

…

The next day goes by quick. Breakfast rushes by and suddenly we're out in Leo, walking hand-in-hand down the streets, taking in the sights and sounds and smells of a successful human colony.

And it flashes by. Lunch at this little restaurant with some of the best clam chowder I've ever tasted, watching the sunset over the mountains in the distance, getting caught up in a wedding celebration and dancing with Miranda to lively tunes.

When we finally make it back to the villa, almost everyone but a few security guards are asleep. We both collapse on the bed and pretend to fall asleep while Allison sets up a loop in the cameras.

When that's done, we jump up and hurriedly pull on the Chameleon suits. I outfitted mine with one of my spare jetpacks for extra maneuverability.

The halls are quiet, as they should be at night. I'd imagine security sweeps through every once in a while, to check if anything is out of place or whatever.

Crouched low to the ground, Miranda and I sneak through the corridors slowly, pausing every time someone passed by, which didn't happen often. Only one pair of guards and a couple interrupted the silence of night. The couple was seemingly drunk and rather amorous, judging by the sloppy kisses and gropes going on. Neither of which I really wanted to see.

We crept down a flight of stairs, through the foyer and down a long, plain hallway with a locked door at the end, the red holographic lock glaring at us almost imperiously. Carefully cradling my left hand to my gut and curling over it, I open up my omni-tool, the light having been dimmed earlier for this occasion, and run a quick scan.

Touching my throat, the comm. crackles to life. "Three cameras." I say quietly. "One above the door, pointing down, another on the ceiling, pointed at the door, and another on the other side."

It doesn't take much to hack into the systems. I've actually dealt with a similar system before, so I already had the runtimes still logged on my tool. I quickly create a stable loop of the three seconds of footage before we arrived, as someone with sharp eyes could pick out our silhouettes when we move.

As I start on the door, the lock flickers to green and I manage to power down my tool just as the portal swishes open, admitting a pair of guards.

As they stride past, I creep through the door, as does Miranda, before it closes.

A short decline later, and the hallway opens up into a wide factory floor. The mechanical arms are still and inert, with only the occasional security guard marching about, body language screaming boredom.

Overlooking the factory floor are a couple of empty offices, and a big one with lights on, connected by catwalks that span most of the ceiling.

Without a word, we move to the big office. Suddenly, a door opens nearby, a guard stepping out adjusting his codpiece. With nowhere to go, I quickly flip myself through the guardrails and hang from the catwalk, feet dangling over a long drop to the factory floor.

I see Miranda's outline do the same, and we hang like a pair of demented ornaments from a Christmas tree. A very crappy tree at that.

The catwalk shudders as the guard strides across the metal, taking his sweet ass time, humming something to himself and occasionally doing a little skip and a hop.

He finally passes and I swing myself back up, creeping over to the office once more. The closer we get, the louder the noise emanating from it is. Once we're at one of the windows, the sound is revealed to be yelling.

"I didn't lose the shipment, K!" Rande yells at a black-out figure on the main holoscreen. "After it got made here, I sent it along! If anyone is responsible, it's Gregor, not me!"

"The loss of my equipment is unacceptable, Rande." The figure states. "While it is true that you didn't lose it, you recommended the smugglers, and therefore you are responsible for their failure."

Rande, with his shirt messy and his hair in disarray, looks nothing like the calm man from before. He runs a hand through his ginger hair and groans. "They usually deliver, but I haven't heard anything from them in weeks. What went wrong?"

"I don't know, but that is not important for you. Is my armor ready yet?" K asks. Well, I hope he's prepared for bad news.

"What do you mean? I haven't gotten a shipment recently." Rande replies, stroking the bridge of his nose.

The figure was quiet. "This is disquieting. Someone is intercepting our packages with alarming frequency, and we have yet to find out how."

Rande pales and runs a hand through his hair again. "Is the plan still good?" He asks, nervously rubbing a corner of his shirt.

"Of course," K scoffs, seemingly indignant. "Nothing can stop our plan, not even the loss of my equipment. But it will harm us in the long run. Meanwhile, I will send another package your way. Do not lose it this time, or I will end your life. K out."

The ginger-haired man sighs as the call ends, before growling loudly and chucking an empty glass at a wall. "God, I hate that motherfucker!" he screams, sitting in a chair and cradling his head in his hands.

Drawing back, I click on the comm. "This 'K' guy sounds like a total dick."

"That aside, we've got another name, 'Gregor'. And what is this plan?" Miranda says, mostly to herself. "We need more information."

I look up into the window as Rande pours himself a glass of alcohol and sits in his leather chair, switching on the holoscreen to show video from the cameras planted in the rooms. He flicked through a few screens of sleeping people and stopped on the room of the drunken couple we saw earlier. And, true to what I thought, they were amorous. As in, they were fucking, wildly, and Rande was watching.

Too much information.

"Let's…come back tomorrow." I relay, not hiding the disgust in my voice.

"Agreed." Miranda replies, sounding much the same.

"It's too bad about the Church's," Rande's voice floats through the glass as he comments to himself. "I would love to see them fuck."

Oh gods. I'm so creeped out right now.

We creep back to our room, avoiding guards and cameras, and strip out of our Chameleon suits. We lay on the bed in the same manner as we did before, and Allison removes the loop.

After that, we pretend to wake up and get ready for bed. This time, Allison cuddles up to me, and I know that we both take a long time to go to sleep, knowing that someone is switching over to the cameras in our room, watching us sleep.

…

After a tense night, we wake, before our ablutions, and come down to the dining room for breakfast. Rande is sitting at the head of the table, and it's really hard to make eye contact with that guy. "So, Mr. Church, this is your last day here. What do you think of Leo?"

Wetting my throat with a gulp of orange juice, I answer him. "This place is beautiful. I'd definitely want to visit again. Amazing views, interesting history and good food. What's not to like?"

Except for the peeping tom that is our host.

Rande chuckles. "Indeed, but you haven't seen the night life here. I'd like it if everyone came out with me tonight for a party. What do you say?"

I trade glances with Allison. This could be a chance to hack Randes' systems, if we beg off early while everyone else is out. Allison seems to be thinking the same thing and nods. "We'd love to."

…

Once again, I am unimpressed by the club. Flashing lights, shitty music and writhing bodies. Seen it once, seen it a thousand times.

Though there is some novelty in coming to a club while being married. Having a ring on my finger changes it up.

Allison and I sit at one of the benches and just watch the crazy people dance, occasionally sipping a drink and waving off people looking to dance. I do my best to keep my eye on Rande, but he flits in and out of the crowd like a hummingbird.

Eventually, he plops down next to me and sighs. "Whoo! What a crowd tonight! Hey, what are you guys sitting around for? It's a party!"

I shrug and sip my drink. "I'm not much of a dancer." I say.

"More like he can't dance." Allison quips, nudging my side.

"You say that like you can, sweetheart." I shoot back.

Rande laughs. "I gonna get a drink."

"I'll get one for you," I interject. "Why don't you sit her and get your breath back. What do you want?"

The ginger-haired man claps me on the shoulder and says, "Gin and tonic, thank you!"

I move into the crowd, pushing through dancing bodies to get to the bar, and order a gin and tonic. While I'm heading back, I slip a future roofie in to his drink.

After he chugs it down, it takes minutes for him to start nodding off. "Come on, let's get you home, party animal."

We stuff him in the back seat of a sky-car and drive back to his villa, handing him off to a couple of security guards to take him to his room to sleep off the drugs.

While they're doing that, we take a quick jaunt to our room to disable the cameras and slip on the suits.

Sneaking through the villa at night is way easier than in the day. We have to stop every three minutes to let someone past, and moving so slow while crouching is making my glutes glutenize.

The door is easier to get through this time around, as there is more traffic and more chances to slip through. However, stepping onto the catwalk presents another problem: The factory is in use. Supervisors walk the overhanging walkways, watching carefully as a few ships are assembled at a time.

I flip myself over the side of the catwalk and hang, using my hands to grip the metal. Slowly, very slowly, I begin to inch forward, carefully reaching and grabbing the walkway to pull myself forward.

It takes five minutes for us to crawl from the door to the center office. I watch as Miranda hacks open the door, making sure no one is watching us; or rather, watching a floating omni-tool flash while the lock changes colors.

The door opens and we slip inside, locking it once more. The windows are already opaque, so no one can see what the boss is doing, and now they can't see us.

I hack into the files of the terminal as quick as I can while Miranda attempts to crack the safe under the desk. Within minutes, the files are open for my perusal, so I copy and download them to my omni-tool for later.

I hear Miranda make a sound of triumph and the rustling of materials. She withdraws from the under the desk and presents a trio of datapads, each securely locked. She stashes those away in a pouch and I eliminate any traces of intrusion in the security network and shut the terminal down.

A sudden ringing makes both of us jump in surprise. I switch my eye to x-ray and peek outside, seeing the machines come to a halt and the workers file out. Checking my chrono, I sigh in relief. It's just dinner time.

We wait for the last people to leave, and sneak out ourselves. After getting to our room, we change into our civvies, store the data away, end the loop and pack our stuff.

As we approach the front door, one of the guards steps forward. "Leaving already, Mr. Church?"

I nod and smile. "Yeah, it's that time. We have a schedule to keep after all. Please relay to Mr. Rande our apologies for not saying goodbye in person."

"Of course sir." He opens the door and lets us out, calls a sky-car and helps us put the luggage in the storage compartment. I wave to the man as we lift off and head towards the space port, where the Space Whale is waiting for us.

Within an hour, we are off of Elysium and in the darkness of space.

"Alright, I've found that about half of Randes' files is porn, most of it from his cameras." I shudder at that. "However I did find something interesting. It's a note, from a Liam Gregor: "Why did it take you so long to finish your part of the project, Rande? I thought you had 'the fastest factory outside of Council Space.""

I can hear the sarcasm bleeding through the note. Miranda nods and types something into her omni-tool. "Then that's our next target."

…

…

A/N: And that's that chapter.

It seemed a little…iffy to me. Not my usual quality. Oh well.

What the hell, guys? I was one review away from being able to call out someone as the 500th reviewer, but I got nine reviews! There goes my sarcastic quip about reaching a number, thanks a lot.

Once again, we are getting closer to the end of this story. The next chapter should have a little more action, but I can't make any promises. I'm also working on the next chapter of JotWE, and I've got a few Harry Potter ideas floating around my brain-scape.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Read, Review, and Enjoy.

Stay Awesome.

~Soleneus

P.S.: Is it just me, or are there way too many fics where the main character, (Naruto, Harry or whatevs) is either A) a girl or B) Turned into a girl? Seriously, what the hell?

P.P.S.: As a straight male, I'd like to let my opinion be known: If you're writing a story about dudes having sex with other dudes, two things:

1. Make sure you tell people in the Summary! I hate reading a story, thinking it's good, and then finding out that the main pairing is two dudes. Doesn't stop a story from being well written, but I can't read it. I'm not gay, and it seems alien to me.

2. STOP MAKING THE PICTURE HOT CHICKS! That's just false advertising right there!

Stay Awesome Some More.

~still Soleneus