2020 Annual One-Shot Anthology
A selection of short stories
This is a document that will list many one-shot stories from the Premiseverse. The majority of these stories come from the members of the Premiseverse Discord community.
LP's A/N: The final story in the collection is the Honorable Mention. EternalConcern wrote an excellent piece in the aftermath of the Archangel's Ascent incident on Omega and really only barely lost out due to it not being as extensive as the other two Apprentice winners. Yet is is a piece that quite honestly I will probably incorporate direction portions of in the main text of the story since it manages better than any of the other stories to underline the entire point of the Premiseverse.
Things may be bad. Times may be dark. Evil people may seem to be in ascendance. But there is always dawn, and always defiance. All we need to do is follow the spark, however small.
Eternal Concern's A/N: There isn't much I want to put here, so I'll just stick to the important bits: A big thank you to LP for having this event, it was good fun to participate and it was also great to read through other peoples entries.
I wrote this story based around two ideas I wanted to convey, the first being the effect Shepard and Vakarian have on those we don't see in the PV, the small guys who dont have great big destinies or important plot points, and are generally seen only in brief glimpses. The second was to help enforce the narrative that LP has been forwarding more in the newer chapters of TWCD, the idea that while things may appear bleak, that the darkness may appear to be all around us, in the end, the light is going to win.
Things do get better. The light is always there, we just need to learn how to grasp it.
Eternal Concern: on Defiance and Family
It was on days like today that Optus Indraka wondered what in the galaxy he had done to piss off the Spirits so much that he'd ended up where he currently was.
He was seated in a sunken concrete dais, in front of a flickering red holo-table, inside an old repurposed bunker. Three of his own kind were sitting on his right, while a salarian, a batarian and a human seated opposite him, with three asari dispersed between them all.
A heady mix of cigar smoke and asari cigarette vapour clouded the air, and more than one person in the room held some kind of container holding alcohol.
The entirety of Gozu was laid out before them, marking out in detail the different factions of their own group, and the collection of gangs and mafias that still occupied the rest of the district.
Nearly half an entire District of Omega, reliant on them – on him – for security and protection.
Most of the people in the room were leaders like him, people who'd led others in open revolt and defiance against the gangs that had once fought amongst each other and used their homes as bloody battlegrounds. But some, like Jira and Brakus, had been chosen as representatives for their zones because of their social skills or deep connections to their communities.
There was also Vix and Saisen, the two ladies – turian and asari respectively – were standing behind him due to their positions as his chosen chiefs of defence and finance; responsible for giving him up to date information and advice on how to respond to situations.
It had all started out as something so simple too.
Him, his bondmate Navana and their precious daughter Hera, living their lives in one of the quieter, more out-of-the-way subsections of Gozu. Him, the son of an outcast. Her, the daughter of clanless; nothing special, nothing stronger.
He'd owned a small weapons shop, selling small arms, ammo, sinks, mods and any other types of equipment he could scavenge or acquire for cheap, while his bondmate had run a small school upstairs for the neighbourhood children and their daughter to attend.
That was, of course, until the Day of Reckoning. The Archangel's Ascent. The day that the Blue Suns, the Eclipse and the Blood Pack had all come together to kill the one being on Omega that they couldn't seem to kill on their own.
They'd died, of course. First to the Archangel as he'd harassed them, sniped them and picked them apart, shredding them to pieces as they tried to chase him down, and then to the Spirits-blessed Butcher, when she'd descended from the sky in all her terrible blue-white glory.
And in the wake of their destruction, once the Butcher and Archangel had left, leaving behind nothing but bodies and fire, they'd also left an enormous power vacuum. The Big Three shredded and scattered, the smaller groups and gangs that had once openly fought amongst themselves in the streets of Gozu and what's now left of Niftu were declawed and light-shy.
There had been, relatively speaking, peace.
Until the sharks had once again begun to sink back in. The once tiny and insignificant gangs, now without larger ones to contest them, began to rise in numbers and territory.
Gang wars broke out in Gozu like they hadn't seen since before the Archangel and his Angels had first arisen, as all the small time crooks, petty gangbangers and egotistical kids filled their heads with dreams of power, and filled the streets with blood.
With such chaos exploding around them, he and a few other like-minded parents on his street had come together, concerned and angry, and after hours of talking they had all finally agreed. The time was right. Enough was enough.
They'd set up barricades, posted watches and fortified sniper nests. Optus himself had dug out and cleaned off his mother's old marksman rifle, and handed out a few other weapons to their new neighbourhood watch.
When a group of Carvers – the local gang that had terrorised their neighbourhood for the past two weeks – had next come to collect their "protection money", they'd instead been met with a hail of gunfire, and a single message.
Stay off our street. Or else.
The enforcers had scuttled off, back to whatever dark hole in the wall they had crawled out of, and Optus remembered that day had been one of fierce pride and high spirits.
The petty gang hadn't taken such an attack lying down, of course. Egos bruised and strength challenged, they'd rallied, pulled together close to forty-odd people of mixed species. All dressed in a ridiculous mix of neon-green and purple armour and clothing, they had moved in on his street with murderous intent.
Optus and his group had been ready. They'd laid traps, moved their positions and prepared as best they could, but it still hadn't been enough to completely shift the gang's momentum into retreat. In the end, the Carver's had been forced to lay siege to them.
Day in and day out, guns were fired and grenades were thrown as they fought back and forth. Things started out good for Optus and his group, with the Carvers having numbers and light personal armour, but few trained to handle weapons or biotics properly.
His bondmate had made a point of it when she threw back grenades before they could explode, and hurled weak pulls or throws to flush out targets for Optus and his snipers. Her younger years as a freelance merc proving invaluable to them all.
For three days they shot at each other, and Optus was proud to say that for every one of them that took a hit, they made sure one or two Carvers died for it.
Still, four-to-one odds could only end one way for them, and as the rotations carried on and the number of fatally wounded grew, it looked to Optus like they were likely to all be killed – the gang's conviction to slaying them proving more resilient than they'd anticipated – when a miracle had happened.
The neighbourhood in the opposite junction to them, Bora's Way, attacked the Carvers from behind, followed a few minutes later by a mixed group from Barron and Gar Street, catching the gang in a solid three way crossfire, and between them all and what remained of Optus' group, they managed to drive the remaining gang members off.
Stepping out from the carnage of their street, Optus had gripped arms with his neighbours from the other junctions, and they had all agreed that it was time for change. From there they'd grown, first to encompass the three streets they all lived on, then a few weeks later the entire junction.
Things had only grown further from there.
A year later they had expanded to encompass another ten streets and had four more junctions under their banner, with other neighbourhoods in other parts of the district staging their own small rebellions. The small time gangs that once ruled and warred against each other being either killed, pushed out, or forcefully disbanded.
Soon enough, Optus was meeting with other community leaders and local vigilantes, agreeing to lend support in return for resources, creating alliances, and then nearly six months after that they ended up unifying into what they were now; a loose combination of group-states, with each one providing a emissary for a council.
And somewhere in all of this, from the small band of parents Optus had pulled together all those years ago, that had eventually grown and morphed into the policing/governing group for half a district. They had decided that he was their best choice for council leader.
"I still think we should strike back at the fuckers before they have a chance to regroup." Ackerson snarled, breaking Optus out of his musings. "The last thing we need is the Sons coming back for revenge once they recover their numbers."
"We are not invading another District. Seriously Ackerson, that's only going to get us attention we cannot afford." Kira Dervo, the leader of the Upper-Mid Commercial Zone, sneered across the table. "We're barely keeping our heads above the ocean waves as it is, the last thing we need is more gangs deciding we're stepping outside our bounds."
"Oh please, we 'stepped outside our bounds' the moment we all banded together to fight off the gangs here." The human rolled his eyes, before taking a puff of his cigar. "Nobody'll give a shit if we reach over the fence and swat a few more of those bastards."
"I can't believe you're being this senseless!" The asari woman groaned, "If we go off into other Districts and start attacking other gangs, the other districts will see us as invaders and swarm us, and we'll all be drowned by the next shift's end."
"Enough!" Optus barked, his patience worn thin. "Spirits but this argument is going round in circles." He pointed a claw, "Ackerson, we don't have the manpower or the resources to push our luck, so stick to hunting the remaining gangs here at home. Saisen, please move us the fuck on; what's next on the list of shit we need to get done?"
Saisen Ledana, their unofficial administrator and his chosen keeper of their finances, looked down at her pad and frowned. "…Aria has responded to our missive."
Everyone in the room straightened at the Black Queen's name.
"And?" Brakus grunted impatiently, the grumpy batarian man leaning back in his chair; the smoking pipe in his hand wafting a scent that made Optus' nose itch.
"So long as we can pay her the expected tribute every month, she'll mark us under her banner." She confirmed.
The tension in the air waivered, but didn't quite break.
"And how much is the tribute?" Barrik, the only salarian at the table, asked.
"12 credits per 10 cubic meters of territory we own." Saisen responded.
"And our combined territory equals…?"
"According to Aria and my girls? Roughly 12.4 kilometres cubed."
"That's… shit!" Vectus Sanctus, leader of the lower-mid residential zones, choked on his cigar. "How are we supposed to pay forty thousand credits a bloody month?!"
Barrik sniffed. "39,680 Credits, actually."
"Tribute doesn't have to be in purely hard credits," Saisen reminded them, "it can be other material valued at such."
"What the fuck do we have that the Queen of Omega would want?" Ackerson dismissed, "Furniture? Recycled fabrics and junk? Or maybe home grown vegetables and spices?"
"As one of Aria's Marked, we'll have direct access to the water mains and food stores." Optus reminded them all, "It'll be cheaper by far for us all to buy directly from her than through the Suppliers or the Unbroken."
"Not to mention both the Barrens and the Chargers would have to leave us alone, since Aria would have her people skin them alive for attacking us while they're also marked."
It was one of the biggest reasons for getting Aria's mark. Since those who sought out her banner were forbidden from directly attacking each other, restraining the infighting to assassination plots and quiet power plays, things that were far more within their scope of stopping than an army of mercs and gangsters from the upper districts.
"We still don't have the funds to pay Aria in the long term, even with these benefits." Barrik noted.
"This is true," Jira stated, the asari matron standing out in their small circle for the simple fact of being the only one in attendance not wearing armour, but instead a flowing purple dress that made her look near nude in the hazy red lighting. "But… I believe I have an idea that may help solve that."
Gracefully leaning forwards, the representative of the red-light zones swiftly inputted several commands into the holo-table, with the holographic display shifting to show the primary highstreets that led to the core of Gozu and the main elevator shafts.
"If we were to take these three junctions here, shore up both Thana's Street and Blunt Street, and remove the wall here that blocks the connector between Agers and Drucker, we can gain control and access to the Main Spire Lifts." With a fluid hand wave, the asari leaned back in her seat. "That means dear Kira could set up commercial assets that lead directly to my Red Light Zones."
"Which would bolster business and increase local revenue," Kira remarked, looking interested, with Ackerson slowly nodding in agreement with her. "It would provide us with something the people wouldn't mind us taxing." The human muttered.
"We'll probably need to increase commercial tax anyway." Vix noted, ignoring the murderous look Kira sent her way.
"You fools wouldn't need to if you just added a housing and living tax to your sectors like I have." Brakus grunted, puffing on his pipe.
"You keep saying that, Brakus, and we keep saying no." Came a garbled voice from the left. "It's too much like a protection tax, most of us would be dealing with rioting and deserting within days."
Gladia Remaris, the barefaced woman seated to Optus' left rarely spoke, largely due to her artificial larynx. Representing the Upper-Mid Residential Zone, she now spoke with an out-in flick of her damaged mandibles and a glare that could melt laser-steel.
"We overthrew the gangs to stop such things, we won't become what we rallied against."
"So you say." The batarian drawled, rolling his upper two eyes.
"We'll probably want checkpoints at the end of Agers and Drucker, and some kind of visitor ID system would be best." Vix stated, attempting to get them all back on track. "According to Charan, we're starting to have something of a homeless problem now."
"Yeah, no shit." Ackerson snorted, "We're the closest thing to civil order down here; I'm surprised we're not swarmed at the walls."
The gathering went on for another solid hour, with everyone chiming in with their ideas, concerns and problems. In the end, they settled on a rough plan close to what Jira had originally proposed, with Optus greenlighting the whole thing and sending everyone back to their homes for the day.
Optus himself stayed for another hour after with Vix and Saisen, the two women running him through some of the less important details for him to review, but soon they too all were headed home for the day.
"Do you believe this… alliance with Aria will truly work in our favour?" Navana asked, after he'd finished summing up his day to her, sounding worried. "This tribute is far more than we were expecting to pay."
Now sitting at home, with his bondmate sat opposite him, food in his stomach and with their daughter sound asleep against his chest, Optus allowed himself to be honest with his thoughts.
"We don't have any other real choice Nav." He said, keeping his voice low. "I'm as concerned as you about our ability to pay it long term, even with Jira's plan, but there's too much at risk for us if we don't take it." With a whistling sigh, Optus leaned back in his chair, careful of the soft weight pressed against his chest. "There's rumours that the Nine Claws and the Chargers are talking, and if those two decide to gang up on us..."
He trailed off, and Nav gave him a searching look. "You think they will?"
"I think the Barrens are looking to expand their territory, I think the Chokers and the Nine's are still sore over our taking of the Broken Warrens from them, and I'm concerned that even if we accept Aria's deal, some of the bigger fish in the higher districts might decide to quietly support them, to get around Aria's new rules on infighting."
"And our response?" His bondmate asked, taking a sip of wine.
"Vix wants to start another recruitment drive, bump up our numbers more, and Barrik says he's talking with a few upper merchants he's friendly with about getting us some better firepower, maybe some of those new anti-armour rocket launchers." He grunted quietly, "We need to make ourselves look too dangerous to mess with."
"But not too dangerous, or the other gangs will unify against us." Nav finished for him with a gesture of understanding. "Yes, I see now. Do you think that will be enough of a deterrent?"
Before he could answer, Hera squirmed against his chest, and Optus felt a brief flash of confusion/annoyance that wasn't his own.
"There now," Nav said gently, hand reaching out to softly press against their daughter's crest, eyes momentarily black. "Time for bed, I think."
"Yes," He agreed, "Time for bed."
Optus kept a steady hold of his daughter as he got up, and together they all went to bed. There would be new problems and threats by the next rotation came around, but with his family by his side and his compatriots at his back, Optus let himself cautiously hope.
That things were getting better, and if they were careful and lucky, they would keep getting better.