A/N: Sorry for the wait, was just building up chapters just so I can get ME1 out of the way and we get into what I like to call the Interbellum section.
Anyway, I just notice that the timescaling for this story is all wrong, I think at the very beginning I stated that the story started in November, but no it's still November now so like, the story starts inuniverse in August? I think?. Thanksgiving will be a cute little chapter that is done between Noveria and then a trip to the Citadel.
1-26
Kiss of Darkness
Hitting a biotic wall is the same as punching through Covenant hardlight. The description in Mai's head that forms as Kaiden puts up a biotic wall and she wails upon it is that she feels like she is hitting hardened air, or rather, hitting it, her fist is not stopped by an object, but rather a force is repulsing her to a degree that replicates just a wall.
Her fists are wrapped up in tape, and each punch she throws is at a void-colored smear in the air that is leeched off of Kaiden.
She throws her punches at the very forces and fabric of the universe, and each time she hits, those watching on swear she could do it.
"This is a force that cannot break, Chief Gul." Kaiden advises. "No matter how hard you try."
She attempts still, wailing punch after punch, trying to tear the darkness in two.
It is a novelty to see her do something and fail, Hitman and the Normandy crew at large looking at this happen before them.
Some downtime between missions as they make their way toward Noveria. The news comes down on high over the ship's PA, and in the smear of mission to mission, it is something important that she announces this. It's a planet specifically highlighted out by the Council for Saren. The day-to-day activities of the Normandy may disguise the fact that whatever journey they are on, it is Shepard's.
Tali, she's busy on her omni, reading something from a Chinese battle philosopher. Recommended by Hitman.
"How do you deceive a Geth?" She asks aloud, and Ashley, sucking water from a bottle as sweat beads on her own brow, shrugs.
"Very carefully." She dryly mouths.
Ashley is more focused on looking at her CO.
Shepard has been the way that she is supposed to be, the Shepard that the Alliance knows, ever since Altis. There is a grace to her that tells anyone watching of her skill, of her veterancy, of her command and of her comfortableness right now, amongst the stars, leading a fight to save the galaxy.
Everyone is looking at her now differently; the difference medication can make is apparent.
Everyone is looking at her now differently as she stands in the well deck in her PT uniform.
She's graceful, even with spit on her wrists and sweat on her brow, red hair aflame and freckles on her face like warm stars. Without her duties on her shoulders, without remembering what mission they are on, Shepard cuts a figure that is both imposing and alluring and, all at once, not that uneasy to look at as she blasts Liara down to the ground with a much-truncated biotic blast.
Out on away missions every movement of hers is like an action-movie, every snap of her gun that of a seasoned operator that the Extranet loves seeing combat footage of.
The well deck has been made into a sparring field again and for the first time Shepard has thrown in.
"Come on you bastards, if you need to vent frustrations, I'm here!" She says with the conquering voice of a king, shedding her hoodie and showing off her guns.
Some in Hitmen do, but nothing can bring Shepard down. In another life, perhaps Hitman would've stood a chance, however the beating that Mai had delivered them had done more than just bruise. Bit by bit, pound by pound, the idea that Mai is just a new generation of soldier, of Human, germinates within Hitman and spreads through the ship. Which is why when she punches at the void, there is an expectation in everyone's head that she will break it.
Maybe not today, but some day.
JD picks himself up off the ground another mat as he and Loke, Hitman's pointwoman, have just finished off a spar. He's not that high speed, he thinks to himself, nursing a pain in his back after being slammed down onto it. Loke simply smiles down sweetly as Shepard looks on, waiting for her turn to throwdown after she's done with Liara. It's a comfortable, physical distraction that keeps them all on that knife's edge ready to fight. At least here there's a certain friendliness to it.
"It's always, all out, Liara." Shepard says, picking up the resident Asari. She's a biotic too, most people forget, though it's a purposeful detail she leaves out of herself. "Even if I don't use my biotics much while on the job, I understand that it's all of or nothing when it comes to using it to fight. There's no half measures when it comes to putting someone in the ground, oorah?" She puts the question out into the air.
Oorah. All in earshot respond back, even JD.
Liara, she recognizes within herself she's getting better, day by day, and pushing down and holding her ground with her natural powers, but it's hard work between all her research. Coughing out muted pain she's chest to chest with Shepard, shaking her head. "Commander, if I may inquire why you hold yourself back in this regard?"
Shepard chuckles, dusting off Liara's shoulders as she takes her to the side with resting and bruised Marines. Chakwas is down in the welldeck today, making sure no one breaks anything, applying ointments and stern words where needed. "Being a biotic isn't really my thing. Ain't fair I got what I do, and I don't need it if it means not alienating my people. Just a little thing about biotic supremacy or what have you. It's really confusing stuff." Shepard doesn't spend a second more explaining. She's very comfortable with herself and that answer after all these years. She could've been in charge of a biotic company; a group very much able to put someone like Mai down. She could've joined Ryder's other protégé, in joining the Asari-Human exchange program. She could've been so much more, though it would've removed her from the action alongside her bread-and-butter men and women.
"I- I see." Shepard is a whirlwind of easy goings and calming words, and Liara says nothing more as she is sat down on a crate and Shepard goes back into the ring with Loke.
Mai, she still continues to beat away at the darkness; her breathing is heightened and she sounds like Wrex (Wrex, whom watches this all go down from afar and naps as if it is a symphony of comfy rain), knuckles slamming against the fabric of reality itself. It distracts Liara in her lightheadedness as, honing in on the way Mai's fists fly at Kaiden, holding up that wall with increasing worry.
To be a living being, trying to break the manifested object of nothing and everything, that sort of thinking has been on her mind a lot recently.
"Pardon?" A shadow over her. It's JD, bottle of water in his hands. One for her, and himself.
A smile spreads over her face. "Of course." And he sits down next to her, seeing two fights break down before them:
On one hand, it's a fight between hands, of Shepard squaring up against a Marine like Chesty Puller intended. On the other hand: it's the age-old question of unstoppable forces and immovable objects played out.
"Have you reconsidered my request, JD?" Liara drinks from her water, reconstituted who knows how many times through the Normandy as JD does the same, patting himself down with a towel.
The fight between Shepard and Loke starts like that of the old martial sports that JD used to see played out in ship mess halls hanging over the tables. Knuckle tap, hands up. Shepard, her hands are held up, just shy of her forearms crossing each other. Poised like a cat almost, hands open, her face goes stone as Loke goes in for the grapple. Shepard bends down, crouching almost, as Loke bends herself to through all of her weight into what would've been a midsection grab. She feels Shepard's hands on her shoulders and herself being thrown back instead.
"Not really. I was very clear the first time, Liara." It is enough of a lie to be who they are now. To reveal themselves through their very mind, where no guards can possibly be put up, he has to say no for responsibilities that go beyond him.
Mai lets loose another flurry of punches, each time, she tries to will movement into that shape which infinite blackness resides. It would've been one of a handful of objects able to fully resist an attack from her, and the other objects were monuments and planets.
"If the key to saving this galaxy were inside your head, would you risk it?" Liara asks.
If the end of another galaxy wasn't inhabiting, sure.
"Just ask Shepard, Liara. That's my final answer to this whole thing."
Loke has righted herself, only to be pull by her arm by Shepard as she pivots and throws her over her back onto the ground. It's barely a fight as Loke is limp on the ground.
This is how most fights go in their type of warfare. Even Elites could be fist fought as long as it was two on one. Those were the worst days of fighting, JD remembered. When drops were literally on top of the enemy and someone forgot to soften up the enemy with fire support.
Loke isn't too upset she's been put on the ground by Shepard as Shepard hauls her up, same as Liara, and share some choice words.
"Very bold of you, corporal."
"Didn't think you were that quick on the draw, skipper." She says with a slur, breath still knocked out of her.
"Ain't that old." Shepard rolls her eyes.
She proves it as more and more Hitmen cycle in and through, and only an hour later, she is the one left standing. All the fight in the galaxy is in her, and she bears it on her teeth in triumphant smiles and jubilee. Every punch is one of experience and knowing, of a real-life fight where she's had to contort her body and throw out aggression as if it was old hat to her.
Eventually that look of a champion settles on JD. Her eyes dart between him and the woman still beating the daylights out of the biotic tear. Out of mercy for Mai:
She tips her head between him and Mai. "Hey, JD, how about you go in the ring with Chief Gul?"
The words stop the well deck in its tracks. Garrus, who is instead beneath the Mako and fishing Geth parts continually out of it, slides out just because to see JD, eyes wide, and Mai having stopped her beating of nothing. It wasn't quite the awe of Mai and Wrex going at it, but it means something.
There's a reason why most of the ship thinks that there's a certain intimacy between them; spoken in the language of hands of light touches.
An old mythos in both former UNSC members head play out: the day a Spartan beat the life out of a band of ODSTs. It was the birth of bad blood between Spartans and ODSTs, however that generalization didn't survive here. JD, more than any ODST who ever lived, has the exact opposite of bad blood against Mai.
Out in the open, this was the way it was with that question asked aloud and Mai stepping back from the tear, Kaiden dropping it.
JD's right hand is up as he stands, a peace sign made with his thumb in the middle as he points to Mai, head tilted.
She does almost the same finger sign, but with both hands as she holds them at chest level and then flicking at him.
His index finger is held up in front of his mouth before it transfers over to a straight held pinky and thumb rotated quickly.
As if grabbing air in front of her into a bundle, both her hands reach into herself, and then grab. She mouths: Trust me.
OKAY?
YOU PERMISSION.
REALLY?
ASSURE.
They come to her not as fast, as she hasn't quite gotten the habit of mouthing and emoting with her signs, but it's enough for JD, and there is pride in himself that he has, somehow, taught somebody how to sign well enough to communicate with him like this. It's still slow going, but she's a fast learner regardless, and in two months she has learned a year.
As mystifying as it is to look at Mai fight, that same wonder comes as she and JD share a language without words.
Painkillers are in his hand and swallowed dry. He knows he'll need them.
Wordlessly, any crowd on the padded mats peel back, remembering last time.
He's not quite sure why he's doing this. Maybe it's spurred on by Shepard asking, and her words having their influence on people as they do. Maybe it's his own rotten curiosity about if he could actually last more than a few seconds against a Spartan. Maybe he's just familiar with death that he can face it down.
There's an idea in Mai's head about how this fight will go down. She takes it so easily because there is control in her, confidence, that steadies. She won't hurt JD. The very idea of it repulses her so, and because of it, she knows her limits and boundaries. The curiosity in her is perhaps the same for all the Normandy: What can JD do against her?
She towers over him, both physically, and by an imposition that is classified.
It's been a long time, but he remembers what it means in that she's a Spartan.
That word: Spartan. Ancient warriors given new life in the armored shell of men and women that, once, long ago, he thought were the epitome of the UNSC fighting forces. The horrible truth of them: their creation, their abduction, it is in Mai's shadow as she brings her hands up into her ready pose. Her face: she's alive. Blood pumping in her, and then someone she trusts on the other end.
"You look like you're about to have fun, Mai." The observance falls out of JD creakily, as if his body had just caught up into what he was about to do.
He doesn't think, if he was given a year in advance, he'd be prepared to fight her at all. Shepard had called him up in a second for this.
"Mm." She grunts from her throat, and he nearly laughs as the crowd looks on with such a bated breath some feel the burn in their lungs.
They stand at opposite sides of each other, nine feet away, and even then, for JD it feels too close once his brain starts wiring, temporarily, that Mai is an opponent.
Fear. He feels fear.
In another life, Cash was an intelligence agent.
Old habits die hard, and in the event of reincarnation at some measure, they're taken up again. He's not quite sure if the Admiralty is quite okay with the fact he's wired himself into the Extranet, but the risk is worth it.
The Covenant Battlenet was one thing. Due to the Covenant's religious observances with their technology, their end-to-end encryption in regards to security from intrusion was one of the few advantages that the UNSC had because of Smart AI like him.
Not that that mattered too much when the Covenant just brute forced frontlines like they did.
The Battlenet was well-explored by him during Reach, bouncing data between three UNSC branches, local governments, and the ONI comm network for the sake of keeping the defense of the planet alive.
The Extranet on the other hand, to Cash, was like the frontier his avatar was modeled for.
To call it a galactic information network, although accurate, felt underselling the idea for an AI like him. It was basically another galaxy. For the first time in his life Cash is assured he'll die before being fully able to analyze a relatively known quantity, but he is alright. He's died once before.
As he zips out of a Salarian vitamin and supplement forum, imbued with the knowledge of what walking frogs need to extend their lifetime at least another month, he finds himself back in Mai's helmet.
Going all the way out, to rubberbanding to the confines of a ship, it's tantamount to him going on expeditions and returning to a humble abode.
Quite frankly, he's loving it.
He loves the fact that he's found himself partnered with a Spartan (and the fact that Halsey, 100% probably wouldn't have allowed such a thing with him). Loves the fact that they ended up in a galaxy that isn't imminently about to boil over into an extinction war (also probably). Loves the fact that the Spartan he ended up in the head in was the one that traded blows in the combat effectiveness ranking board with Sierra-117.
What he doesn't love is the game that the Admiralty is playing, hiding them from, as far as he can tell from several hundred fansites and news articles, the Alliance's top combat-battle-poet-sleuth-detective-leader-commander-poster-girl-messiah-special operator.
In every universe, the infinite wisdom of command still shines through, but the logic is there:
Shepard is the type of person to right wrongs, and the Covenant is the biggest wrong since the woman he is attached to.
He's not stuck in the helmet per-se. He's in the Normandy's systems, through its cameras and sensors. Holo-projectors are set up in a few places on the ship, most namely by Joker and the CIC's commander stand, however those are conveniences for organic recognition as opposed to himself.
As he returns from learning about the galaxy, an old truth, from an old life:
Sometimes you'll learn more about a person from how they fight than any conversation you might have with them.
Sometimes you'll learn more from how people die, than how they live.
He comes back just in time for a front row seat to an old story: a Spartan vs an ODST.
She is certainly Kurt's protégé. Cash knows the stance, leg holding a millimeter-perfect stance to preserve jumping and lunging capability even in hand-to-hand combat. It's a Spartan-II form.
If she were to take the first strike, this fight would've been over in a second, though that does no one good, so she holds back as JD puts his hands up. Boxer-like, covering his face. ODST-standard for CQC training.
JD is an open book for many ways Cash would never say to his face, but it's tragic all the same: He's just another ODST. A regular man. His personnel file was bog-standard, cross-compared with every other ODST. Higher field proficiency in marksmanship and field aid (with appropriate fast-track training to medic), but the one mark of note was this: He was a survivor. Nearly one hundred drops, survived a glassing before he became an ODST, dead parents. Survivor was right.
It was Mai, the woman whose head he was inside, that Cash wasn't quite sure of yet.
Her file was remarkably classified, even by Spartan standards. It didn't help that in both this life and his last one as Cam Masterson he was only involved with the IIs, however he knew enough to make her unique to him.
In another life for Cam Masterson, she might've been kidnapped by him.
That wasn't this life however.
This was the life where he has to see his two fellow UNSC refugees throw punches at each other to appease the ship they're on.
He might as well enjoy it.
"Hey, Cash." A voice summons him. His holoprojector rigged into Joker's seat turns on, and he's there before the Normandy's pilot. "You adaptively learn enough to be used as my financial advisor?"
Playing dumb is easy.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant Moreau?" Just put a little lag behind his slick, up the accent, slow the words, especially the names. It's a shame though, he'd get along well with Joker.
The pilot isn't surprised, sighing to himself. "Alright, Cash. If you understood any of what I just said, I am asking for a combat analysis of Chief Gul versus Chief Durante. Percentage. Can you do that?"
"One moment." Freeze the avatar, look up at Joker.
98% Gul winning. 1.7% a draw. .3% a win for Durante.
"I'm not quite sure I can do that, Lieutenant Moreau."
"Was it a syntax thing or your capability thing, or what?" Joker's not too surprised as he looks at a screen he has up, looking down on the well deck. JD and Mai are circling each other as JD inches himself forward, bit by bit.
"One moment."
"Oh it's fine. Get out of here Cash. It's weird having a little cowboy on my arm rest."
Cash blinks out of existence for Joker, and he's back fully dedicated to seeing how JD throws a punch against the woman that has found herself as his closest friend.
First few microseconds of the jab as he explodes forward and half of Hitman is looking away out of fear of seeing something gory, but the rate which Cash is observing at, Mai has a fraction of. Which is a lot, given she is still flesh and blood. JD pulls his first punch, but half-way through he realizes the difference between him pulling his punch and going for it is nill to a Spartan, so it goes all the way as Mai throws her hands up, only to catch his fist in her palm and to immediately, using that contact, push JD back almost for him to stumble. Standing Marines are in the way, and they press him back in as Mai has barely changed her stance.
Just as Mai had to punch out the darkness to no avail, the cheek has turned to JD to face the same: a machine in the shape of man.
Each punch he throws is met by Mai's palm and a push off, knuckles hitting wrapped up hands. They come in muted whomps, and soon enough JD has dropped proper form in the preference of a true stance: the way people swing when fighting, actually fighting. He's gone chest to chest with Elites more times than he should've been able, knives out, guns shoved into chests, daggers at his throat. To throw a punch was the difference between life and death in close quarters sometimes, and he's not too proud of the fact he's beaten a Grunt or two to death.
Mai barely moves as JD tries to get through her deflections, however as the minutes go on, the kicks start going in, as Mai slaps them down all the same.
Hitman knows that she is holding back. This wasn't how she treated them on that moonlit beach. Though Mai has nothing to prove to JD, or any of them anymore.
He screams out, one last time, sweat pearling at his head, as he jumps into the last swing, only for Mai to move forward, put her palm to his chest, and bring him down to the ground.
The winds are knocked out of him, her palm broad against his chest, but she does not press down as soon enough she is feeling the rise and fall of his breath, a bang of her silken black hair out of its ponytail and reaching down toward him.
Electric blue eyes are brighter than any of the Normandy's new lighting, and JD focuses on them as he recomposes.
What Cash learns, seeing JD swing against a Spartan, is that he has spent all his life fighting against the unkillable. He takes his defeat in stride, but he does not give up; he has to be put down. What he learns from Mai, taking JD on, however, is a little more interesting. The amount of biometrics and just pure stimulus he can access when plugged into her via the neural lace is astounding. Hormones, blood pressure, certain chemicals being pumped into the brain whenever a certain someone says her name. Those data points fall outside what is right for what she is. He's not the type to guess over something he barely has an idea about: feeling, emotion, all that he has of those are ghostly feelings that scratch at his artificial synapses like words on the tip of tongues or half-remembered memories. If he was pressed however, if he had to garner from all his data that ONI had accrued from all the actively deployed and officially "MIA" Spartans, he would say that Mai was falling off her baseline because of, not her situation, but because of a single person.
A single person she has pinned beneath her right now.
The AI wonders if the chemical, emotional suppressants that they pumped into the children, the rigorous indoctrination afterwards, was worth it in the end. Though another thought hits him hard: Those measures lasted long enough, for Spartans were never supposed to die natural deaths. They were supposed to be killed in the war.
The war that the three of them escaped from.
"Alright I didn't know what I expected." Shepard says, exasperated. "So Chief Durante doesn't have some secret weapon against you." She throws her hands up in the air.
"No such luck, Shepard." JD brings himself up on his elbows and Mai nods, looking down on him still, like an animal who has claimed its meal.
"How about me and you versus her?" The proposal is again, another amazing thing put forward. "I'll keep any of the real stasis bits out of my biotic repertoire for this, but I think that would be fair, right Chief Gul?"
Biotics are another subject Cash has learned about with increasing notice. There must've been a catch to wielding literal dark matter and dark energy. If there was, the galaxy was certainly ignoring it.
What brought eezo and the biotics out in this universe and not the one they came from? What fundamental piece of galactic, reality defining rules was changed to allow people to have telekinetic powers and forces that many could describe as space magic? Many questions on Cash's mind, and his cowboy hat wasn't big enough for it to all sit there.
An answer to another question approaches: Who would win versus Mai if they had help from biotics.
"Come on Chief Gul, I know you wouldn't not enjoy taking a swipe at me." Shepard teases, Mai is blank faced as she raises JD up.
"I take no joy in striking a commanding officer, Commander." Mai reminds. A strange thought arises: Even on Onyx, she never sparred with trainers. None of the Spartan trainees ever did. Only with each other.
Safety reasons, she supposed. The estimation that she could've probably killed a man young sits in her as she looks at Shepard putting up the dare.
Shepard, she's having fun, and it's infectious throughout the crew, even as they are battered and spent. It's a consequence perhaps of not having proper weights or PT equipment on the Normandy that the only measure of a workout comes with lifting each other or gallon jugs of water.
Not like they need any particular regiment between all of them: They're out on mission enough that it provides their physical activity for the week in one go.
"You're too good, Chief Gul… Are you good for this arrangement?" Shepard asks, but in reality, it's not up to her, it's up to JD.
The shock trooper turns over, centering himself still as he glances over at Garrus, taking a squat by Liara as he understands and tosses him a water bottle, some dribbling out onto a beard he has yet learned how to live with. If the secret to growing facial hair was simply a vacation it makes sense as to why he hadn't grown one in the six-something years he's been a man.
He considers it silently, crossing quick glances at Mai in between looking within himself.
His decision is made for him as she feels her hand again on his shoulder, and a squeeze.
That's that then.
"Yeah, sure."
Simple as that.
Combat evolved was a term that many commanders spouting the effectiveness of the Spartans early on used. Simply put, it was that in the middle of battle, Spartans made every correct decision, in the most exactingly brutal way. Every shot landed, every hit made, every Covenant killed. Reliability only trumped by the incompetence of those around them, or the eventual trip-up by thousands of aliens dead.
What chance did the two of them have against Mai?
"Feeling better nowadays, Shepard?" JD can't help but make the comment.
Rolling her head a bit, pumping her arms as they stand on the other end of the mat, she nods. "Little bit." It's a fight, whoever is down on the ground loses, whoever left standing wins, a condition which Shepard is imminently aware of as she goes through what JD once did: seeing Mai as an enemy. "Christ."
"I know." He mutters back.
Gunslingers at high noon, soldiers before morning attacks, the finality of a fight like this approaches in seconds and the stillness of the room is frozen in time. Wrex grumbles awake, but stays silent, seeing what is happening.
Shepard's hands, they burn. They burn in blue fire as she summons that magic from within her and balls it, concentrates it to around her hands. Once in a while, out on away mission, JD would catch that same flare come around her body when her kinetic barriers get overloaded. It is a natural idea to want a shield, and the mental gymnastics of being a biotic manifest it naturally. He's not quite used to it. Not when Kaiden uses it to lift him up debris or rocks in order to get a firing position or when one of Hitman's biotics uses it to rush forward in a psychotic dash and explode where they standing, sending any nearby afloat or away. It takes a lot out of them when they rush like that, and it's not something he's sure he's okay with.
How Shepard wields her powers however, it's too natural, but she keeps them held back.
In the split second it takes for Mai to assume a new form, Cash thinks this of her: she too is also programmed. It's a different type of programming than he's designed along. It's not ones and zeroes, it's if and then statements applied to tactical judgement. Still if he has a particular logic and rule of robotics to follow, she has her own gospel which makes her roll her fists back and have her eyes locked onto JD.
She is a wolf, picking off the weak links first, because that was how she was made.
With two on one, there is no formal start, just an attack as she finally throws herself forward toward JD.
She moves in frames, teleporting almost in her speed as she has appeared in front of JD within grabbing distance, her hand reaching out as Shepard grunts to his side. JD falls to the ground, on his ass, backpedaling back only to see Mai slowed, losing her momentum as Shepard wraps her arm around Mai's neck and tears her back. The weightlessness that befalls Mai is specific only to her.
It's been a long time since she's been thrown by a human. Mai's thoughts are of the surprise in herself as she sees the ceiling of the well deck before she hits the floor as all of her weight returns to her. Blue flames tickle along her appendages, and her body tenses, anticipating the freeze. None locks her up however, it only lingers as she picks herself up and feels as if she is carrying several Spartan Lasers on her back.
Mai doesn't notice it of herself, but she is of that blue aura, clouding her down as a biotic power inundates her with a slow, with weight. When she stands, she stands with force more often seen in ancient statues or steel itself. She is fighting against herself as she stands, and her veins are pumping, her eyes are singularly focused.
Cash can't help but think of a certain philosopher's take on Human progression: In order to fight externalities, one has to fight internalities first.
"Alright, think you can do something with this, JD?' Shepard pumps her arms as the fire in them dies down. JD takes a moment to realize the weight to Mai's movement as she brings her arms up.
He nods, fists made, breath taken in as an opportunity has been given.
Shepard flashes two fingers with her closest hands and JD reads it as a cue as both he and herself go flying at Mai as she staggers back, the Spartan trying to pivot to try and take on Shepard first. Her body drags her down as if living in half-time, and for the first time in years a human has gotten a hit on her. More specifically: Shepard brings her hands up to Mai's neck, and JD, she feels him go to one of her legs and pull up, robbing her of her standing Shepard pulls her biotic and her weight is returned to her, against her.
She hits the ground on her back, the Normandy groaning even through the gap.
Bones tremble as Mai lands and everyone who was sitting is now onto their feet.
Before Shepard can mount Mai onto her chest, she lunges up as best she can before the biotic effects return to her. Her arms, cannons in their own right, reach out to Shepard, but her fingertips barely graze her red bangs as JD gets behind her.
The weights are back on.
She decides to fight.
Spartan Time.
She finds JD in mid-air as she does her best to snap and break through the biotic slow. Her arms don't go for a jab or a punch, but rather, laid out, as if trying to catch him, angling herself to do as follows:
As JD flies trying to spider-monkey her back and bring her back to the ground, he instead makes more like a bird as Mai's form contorts barely only to be forced off like a spring.
Shepard ducks beneath JD as he flies over onto his side, content to take Mai on in hand to hand, chest to chest. She's a beast of a woman, and Shepard thinks of Wrex this close as she jabs out to her arms which are still, slow on the draw. Though she's spinning up, slowly getting used to the drag, the burn of biotics.
Hitting Mai's flesh, her arms, trying to jab them off track, it's like hitting the hardest of meat, unwavering, knuckle busting. The rate which she moves is still equal to someone like JD, and only when she is held back is it revealed about how swiftly, how snappy, she usually operates.
Shepard skids on her feet, left and right, dodging each thrown punch of Mai's. Even with her slowed state each stroke follows like the low bass drop of a speaker. All that is missing is the crunch.
Cat and mouse isn't the word here that any looking on would describe what is happening:
JD raises to his feet again, but as he goes to lunge at Mai, Mai diverts away from Shepard, only to push him off and away again, then recentering back on the nimble Shepard.
Shepard gets in hits, which is far beyond what anyone else can do with Mai. They're taps, they're full brought punches against joints and her chest. Though nothing is done. MJOLNIR is not the source of her power, it merely contains it, hones it. The Commander throws a punch right into Mai's teeth, panting all the while, and all she can feel is bone that is harder than steel as her knuckles cut against them and Mai takes Shepard's hand before she can pull away.
What people would use to describe the fight, if it can be called that, is of a wolf, toying with its prey.
Shepard is off her feet, and before she can summon her own biotic powers again Mai reels her head back, only to send it forward.
The cracking crunch comes in the form of headbutt as Shepard dangles like a punching bag, back and forth as she sees stars in her vision before being dropped down onto the ground. She tries to stand, but she cannot do it straight as she stumbles back, vaguely.
It's a hail mary at this point, Mai having pushed JD off to focus on one target at a time, but the shock trooper finally comes around with a roundhouse kick which he half-guesses on the form.
He can't even complete it as Shepard's biotic slow breaks off Mai and she is back to full speed.
In mid-air Mai grabs his leg, stopping the rotation before he can land his heel on her head, pushing off, spinning him back around only to meet the opposite force of Mai's elbow held out to swipe across his head. It does, and all the liquid in his mouth is spit out as he swears the world goes black and white and his hearing deafen.
"JD!" Shepard slurs, but before she can get her hands up to do anything, Mai is there in front of her as she feels the woman's hands on her shoulders, only to see her face in the microsecond her mind allows her to process another headbutt incoming. Instead of recoiling back, she feels her skull bounce within itself as Mai has reached around to grab the back of her head. Like an echo, the pain bounces back and forth behind her face as she gets the force of a car accident to her forehead.
Shepard's eyes are wild as Mai has her held by her red hair, and looking at nothing as they bounce around in their sockets, her mouth open and tongue lolled out for a split-second in her likely concussion. Everyone watching is to their feet. Shepard's eyes settle on Mai however, and extreme pain comes as she is dragged back down and her body hits the back of the mat as if she had hit a building.
JD could do nothing but look with shaky legs as he feels spit out of the corners of his mouth taste coppery and tears roll from his ducts. He is in pain, and his mind is half-there, clouded in pain, the other half fighting itself to either keep fighting and to run.
His legs want to break, his blood wants to burn, all his teeth are rattling as his feet begin to tremble and his arms begin to give. His spine is forcing him to hunch over but he has to fight. He has to fight because he is a Marine, and Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. He's survived planet burnings and a war. He has survived the genocide of his people and yet-
Mai's over him.
He looks up at her.
She's beautiful.
Electric blue eyes with electric blue fire, the curve of her mouth is in some of enjoyment, and her darker skin glistens like mocha beneath ethereal light and sweat. Silk hair breaks free from its form and it frames her face. Her lips. They curve into a smile she wears in combat. He takes it in, and then it's lights out.
A jab, it breaks like a whip across his jaw downward, and his body gives at once as he is off the mat and onto steel, bones ringing against the Normandy.
To Cash, he knows best: it's never a fight with Mai. Whoever stands before a Spartan is not reckoning with a battle they can win, it's always a matter of them being in a battle they can survive. None can.
The idea of taking fights with the presumption of a chance of winning is simply a thought that is impossible in the realm of Spartans.
Unstoppable forces, immovable objects. Spartans are both. That is their reality that their enemies are shaped around. A reality that those of the Normandy have finally learned as Shepard lays on the ground like a corpse, and no one amongst her crew can do anything for it. Even the greatest of the Alliance can be beat to a pathetic pulp.
Reality to Mai is war itself, the combat she throws herself in. Everything else is a hazy dream of transfers and downtime which her mind phases through. Though things have changed, her life has shifted, and for the first time in her life reality comes to her as the adrenaline of a fight does, and Spartan Time washes out of her like veil, slipping from its ghost.
Reality comes to Mai and it tells her she has just hurt JD.
Her eyes go wide, and she says his name as she is suddenly kneeling besides him as he stirs in obvious pain. Fear comes into her like the waves of Altis, and she is cold.
Chakwas is busy with Shepard as she runs over to the mat, giving a wide berth of the Spartan, giving Mai the moment to bring her hand to his face, and see what she has done to a man. She has killed many men like JD, done worse to them, but seeing her damage on him it is weighs her down more than any biotic trick could.
Fingers wipe away the fluid, and she presses as softly as she can onto his jaw, as if holding it together.
There is no need however.
The smear of his blood across her thumb, she doesn't quite know what to do with it as she reaches down to cup his neck, to feel his pulse, only to unconsciously move to his cheek. She doesn't quite know what to do as JD peers through it all to see her.
He does something she doesn't expect: He laughs. His mouth moves as if he's laughing, but no sound comes out as instead choked coughing does. He lets it go through him, cringing, but eventually he settles on the smile he gives her. In his silent laughter brings his own hand up to mirror her movements on her own neck and face.
Shepard isn't in the habit of counting kills. It's a grisly proposition that sits somewhere between deranged and psychotic, but as an officer who's in charge of casualty reports she has to give a general idea what each of her away missions puts up. She doesn't look at the end number, but at this point, she's put the population of a fairly large city into the ground throughout her entire career. An overestimation, hopefully, and a grim reality otherwise of what the Admiralty asks of her, even before she became a Spectre.
This mission however, should be different in regards to body count.
In the comms room again, all of Hitman and the other squad members as they are have assembled at Shepard's behest a few days later, a few more missions in between. "Of all the ops we've had thus far, most of them fall into a frame that we as Alliance military types can more properly acquiesce to." She says, standing before an image of the snowy, icy planet.
Raids, snatch and grabs, search and destroy.
"Unfortunately, our tasking on Noveria is more espionage than ground assault, which means Hitman, you'll be sidelined to ship security assignments unless you're called for otherwise." Emerson isn't that happy about it by the way his face displays, but he understands, nodding for his men. "In fact, does anyone here have this type of spook-shit in their portfolio?"
Mai's not exactly sure if it's the best idea to admit that she is indeed trained in a myriad of stealth techniques, but she keeps silent.
Garrus raises his hand. "I had a few days in plainclothes on my beat."
He is the only one to raise a hand.
"Cannot believe we have to wing James Bond shit." Ashley is indignant with the rest of the Marines. It's not exactly what she signed up for.
Shepard can only sympathize as she looks down to her datapad and see the details forwarded to her by the Council.
Every time they encounter the Geth, every time she and Liara come up with some new theory, she rings up the three councilors. In the span of time since they've set off it's not surprising that Shepard has accidentally become the clingiest of the Spectres. Sparatus though recognizes the nature of her frequent call-ins. It is of military regulation: keeping the superiors otherwise informed. As enlightening as theories regarding Saren trying to become half-Geth, or Geth becoming organic, or some sort of thesis is put down after nights of studying what exactly the Reapers are, the Council is more often than not placated, if not a little off-put. Shepard can see it in their faces every time the quantum comms are set up. Singular focus frightens them, or, perhaps, she thinks to herself one day after describing the events of Dr. Saleon's termination, unused to direct confrontation of her trade.
Plausible deniability is a privilege, and here she is bringing the truth of herself to their feet almost every single day.
"Do you ever tire, Commander?" Councilor Tevos asked her, once, just prior before the connection was cut. The topic of the day was whether or not a Quarian reclamation campaign would necessarily derail the hunt for Saren. All signs pointed to unsure.
She made sure Chakwas double check the pills and their compositions. Nothing extraordinarily out there in terms of actual treatment, but the combination of which was inspired she reported to Shepard. They did the job.
She felt okay. "No, ma'am. Can't afford to."
The Council had led her to Noveria.
"Alright, one last time:" Shepard began again. "We're inbound to Noveria because local scanners keep picking up Geth ships pinging the local grid. In and out. No direct confrontation. Because of Geth's technology they haven't been able to track them or their whereabouts, the only reason why we know it's the Geth is because with our taskings so far we've been able to lock down a Geth IFF signature for our early warning systems throughout Human space. This has been going on since Eden Prime, about two months now about."
Three months. Late August to early November. The time hits JD hard as he sits next to Mai, and he can't help but look at her side profile as she's concentrated looking at the holographic representation of ice cold Noveria. She's different. Hair is longer, more aware of her face and what she looks like. Three months is how long they've been in this new life of theirs.
Almost a half a year. What happens a half-year after that? A year out? Another year after that? When does he stop thinking about how long since Altis landfall, and how long since he's been born, been alive, back to normal?
Not now. Thoughts focused on a planet that Mai has supposedly been to before in that life left. Insurrectionist business. A shipyard hidden amongst the snow.
"Anything else?" Wrex says from his corner, tone unmoving as it usually is. "I'm not one to freeze voluntarily."
"Well," Shepard nods. "The Council has very little in the way of assets here, for a few reasons. One is that this is a Human private charter colony. Big businesses from weapons to medical development have shacked up here for tax evasion, legal loopholing, or god knows what. The other was…. Well. This planet according to internal Spectre memos that Spectre Rix shared with me on Altis is that it was one of Saren's issues if it became one. Some further digging that me and Avitus did, well it seems that Saren had a financial stake in Noveria at some point."
Avitus is a very nice man. A young man, no doubt. She can recognize it even through species, and for the first time he was in over his head, dealing with her. He could only share his secrets of the man he called mentor:
"I trusted him, Shepard. I trusted him to save this Galaxy. I would've followed him if he asked. I'm sorry."
The Normandy's crew looks to her, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to be useful to her. Liara's innocent eyes consider many thoughts, hiding a franticness come up only recently. Digging for answers for as many years as she has, and she cannot find the one that would save all life. It weighs on her and Shepard feels the sin she has imparted. It's the same sin she has imparted on Tali, on Hitman, on Mai, and JD. It is the sin of serving her.
No good deed goes unpunished.
Pushing red bangs behind her ear, she continues. "I've, generally, got a few issues with colonies like this, but that's for another day." Issues like the privatization of science which does more harm than good, but is often lucrative. Capitalism and its consequences have been a disaster for every race it exists, and yet it is still the oil slick of the galaxy's machine. She talks to Cash mostly about money, funny as the thought is. If the spooks and the Admiralty are telling her this prototype VI is a glorified calculator, she doesn't mind having him around. Like notifications on her omni, Cash is there at her convenience.
He pops up again in the comm room on his own pedestal, and the ship's crew is still getting used to something that Mai and JD have long been used to.
"Howdy. Our ETA to Noveria is five hours. Do you know Noveria is short for Nova Siberia?"
The crowd is silent and Shepard is to blame as they all look from Cash's cowboy form to Shepard, rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay, I asked him to end every notification of his with a fun fact recently. I wanted to see if his parameters could take it."
Tali has been there the whole time, ready and waiting for another mission, in love with the idea that she was on this ship as a Marine now. She, out of anyone else, is skeptical about Cash still. Hating virtual simulacrums is in her blood.
She hasn't interacted with Cash since she registered her name with him on Altis, doesn't take any of his advice whenever she's working in the core with Chief Adams. She looks at him as if Cash is the plague, and it is a look that Shepard has seen before: in the eyes of Chief Gul and Chief Durante once. On the Citadel: before the Covenant.
Her head starts to hurt the second she thinks of them and she can't help but think of those pills in her quarters.
"Thank you, Cash, that is all."
He tips his Stetson and he's out like a flash from his emitter.
"Anyway, we're definitely playing Noveria by ear. Kaiden will forward you your particular assignments and shifts. Don't expect shore leave here. We got that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, dismissed. Mai, JD, Tali, Garrus, Liara, Wrex. Stay here for a second?"
JD is in the middle of standing up as he is ordered, and he does as the rest of the crew shuffles out back to their stations. There's a slight hint of fear, but Shepard doesn't seem particularly prodding today. She does her rounds as usual, asking her questions, knowing her crew.
"Why do you take your coffee so black, JD?" She asks one night after their beat down. Being beat to shit together with Mai certainly did impart upon them a bond. He's in the mess hall with Liara, and she is asking him questions about how to properly use a pistol, as much of a point shooter as he is known to be.
"My Dad took it black. So do I." He shrugged. Not that he had much of a choice at the police station, but it's a small token of affection he keeps around. He is his father's son, after all.
With the last crewman out, Shepard looks to them. The special ones of her crew, no doubt.
"Alright, hear me out." She begins. "We're probably going to be the people taking point on Noveria." It takes seconds for it to diffuse those who remain. Liara tilts her head as Wrex, flappable as always, shrugs. Garrus nods at the assumption and Tali has one of her eyebrows, barely seen past her visor, raise. It is JD and Mai that are left the same, wondering. "This isn't a colony out in the sticks, or some warzone. Bringing in an entire platoon of Marine Raiders isn't in our best interest, probably. The fact that this colony isn't Alliance presents some interesting complications."
Garrus seems ready, leaning forward. "What are we anticipating then? Corporate finagling? Bureaucracy? Private security squabbles?"
Shepard, she's not sure, and reads on her face. "This is a little outside of my wheelhouse, but as I said, we'll play it by ear, and, given that most of you aren't Alliance military, I think we'll be able to fare a little better on the ground." But that left those that were Alliance military. She squares her eyes on them. "You two as well, given your mission capabilities you should prove a little more graceful on the ground than our Marine meat eaters. That alright chiefs?"
Mai has never said no to an order. JD on the other hand…
"I'm not a spy, ma'am."
Shepard nods. "Neither am I, but you're a reliable man and it's my judgement that you'll do good on my wing down there."
It's hard to say no to Shepard, of all people.
In the steps of her own history, Mai looks out from the docking bay that the Normandy has come into at Noveria.
She inserted to Noveria, or to her, Gorgon Secondus, from a specialized drop pod in another life. Just herself and what equipment she could lug on her kit. She destroyed an entire Insurrectionist colony about two weeks later. It was one of those campaigns that earned her the name that all the ONI types seemed to enjoy seeing her as: Lone Wolf. It was the first name that really resonated with her, remembering snow drifts and snowstorms she disappeared into, attack after attack against those who stood against the UNSC.
She never felt cold on that planet, thanks to MJOLNIR, however she has no such privilege today.
She is bare of her techsuit and armor, left only with Alliance fatigues. Boots she hasn't broken in cover her feet, and her sling is now a necessity, not a preference. Dressed down, but still, gunned up. This is the way that Shepard comes to Noveria, omni-flared with the sigil of Special Tactics and Recon.
"I'm here on Spectre business, not Alliance." She proclaims with confidence that makes that entire bay shake.
The snow, it is beat back by some internal heating technology that keeps the worst of it outside, where the Normandy has slid in.
JD on her left, Mai on her right. The standard Shepard formation, with properly armed Marines flowing out of the ship by its docking hatch, ready to stand guard.
But first: politicking.
Politicking in the form of a multi-species security force approaching them out of the gate, weapons drawn. The intention with all of them dressing down was that they didn't look like they came to fight. Assault weapons swapped out for PDWs and pistols. It is not however the case when Mai is among them, as massive as she is standing next to Shepard. She is a weapon unto herself, and without an introduction all eyes are on her as the usual procedure of people not believing a Human gets that big naturally wracks through them.
It does give Shepard the step-up, the mental foot forward as the rest of them are dealing with the impossibility of Mai.
"By my authority as a Spectre we're allowed to bare arms in regards to business as conducted by me. Please confirm with your command." She speaks it with command in her throat. She's serious.
JD is wearing his jacket from Altis, fitting in well enough. There's a look about operators, dressed in plain clothed but ready for situations. He has that form now. He has that form with Garrus's gifted visor on his head. Like some sort of cyberscape runner he imagines, hackers dressed in thick clothing with malice on their mind.
"We're the law here, show some respect." Shepard doesn't have a copyright on the way she walks around with people; an Asian woman with combat skin the likes of which are only seen in use by private contractors in that galaxy has the same formation. Another woman, blonde, off to her side as spat at Shepard, while the Turian opposite of her has a shotgun ready at low-idle.
Mai takes one step forward, and all the fire in that blonde's eyes goes out as Mai's electric blues burn through her with the promise of capability.
"One- one moment." The lead woman touches an ear piece. "Parasini-san?"
"Easy does it, Mai." Easier said than done, Shepard's request.
The arrival to the planet itself, slipping into its atmosphere, it was textbook, unassuming. This was just another world like Therum or Feros where civilization had come to set up a claim. JD's eyes wander to the metal of that hanger, the coldness of it evident alone by sight and the air sucked into his lungs. He didn't mind the cold. Not really. ODSTs dropping on snow-dusted planets or tundra locales usually meant constant combat, and the fires around him and the fire in him kept him warm enough. This was another deal altogether.
A thought: The business district of the Cirsium City. He remembers the feeling of walking with his father through it. That same air; it was there on Noveria. Thick with artificial breezes and scents that smelled like metal. It was office air meant to keep people awake, cold licking at the skin.
The security guards are all looking at Mai as she burns holes through them as she usually does. Her presence to those uninitiated always trends between surprise and some sort of unease. Eventually she has understood it and uses it.
Her arms are shown, sleeves rolled up, the mass of her muscle strained, threatening to break the SMG in her hands. Her eyes are drawn to the Turian. How natural it is for her to think about killing an alien.
The standoff however comes to a merciful resolution. "Right." The lead woman nods to herself, talking to a comm unit in her ear. "You may proceed Spectre. I hope that your visit to Noveria is uneventful." She nods, half-bows to it, a subtle hand gesture sending the two security personnel away back to their posts.
"Hopefully." Shepard nods back in return. "If you don't mind, Alliance procedure for docked ships is to maintain a limited perimeter guard. You'll have my word they won't leave the vicinity of this dock." She thumbs back to the Normandy and Hitman, waiting at the docking port, gunned up as proper Marines.
"I was a Marine, ma'am." The lead woman asks. "That isn't any procedure I've heard of."
Shepard shakes her head. "It is if we're expecting hostile contact."
"Oh? I assure you that your worries ar-"
Shepard closes the distance slowly as she comes chest to chest with the woman. "Respectfully. This entire Galaxy for my ship is a battlefield currently. I want to keep my crew safe. You understand that Marine?"
And people know Shepard is back just from the way she talks; the way she gets everything she wants. Not undue, but she makes an argument for herself and it always hits the heart.
The lead can't say anything against that. "We'll inform you if this procedure intrudes on our own security details…" It's defeat, but she understands.
With another nod Shepard raises one hand up and spins a finger. Kaiden is there, waiting in the wings as he directs Emerson to take up security.
Looking at Shepard also talk down port authority and its security, it summons something else nostalgic. He wondered how many smooth criminals had actually been able to talk there way out of their fates, how many people had actually been like Shepard? It couldn't have been that Shepard was the only one of their type?
Though all those thoughts are settled as he remembers that of all the unique people in that galaxy, he knows one that is truly unique.
Her fist is up to him off to the side, tapping his elbow.
One pump, two pump, three pump.
Scissors beat paper. She takes point as Mai breaths a disappointed sigh at losing that toss, following Shepard as she signals with her hand for them to follow.
Even as a kid, he knew about the Insurrectionists on Luna.
Those are the cases that his father hated to take: political ones really. Ones that dealt with independence and liberty and freedom from the UEG and the UNSC. Even that close to Earth, there were those who wanted to break away, and Luna held its share of sympathizers. Those who would send weapons or documents out from Earth, through Luna, to the dwindling Outer Colonies who hadn't yet come beneath the Covenant. It's why security at every dock and port had been the way it was.
Alarms ring in JD's ear and he knows he is breaking rules right now, holding a weapon in a place that does not allow it. Stone and concrete walls and steps are beneath his boots, and camera eyes look down at him, seeing through him.
"Now I'm looking through your eyes, Jonny-Boy." He hears the south-west in his ears. "Mister Vakarian must be an awfully fine feller if he gifts you one of these." With the amount of sensors and optical cameras on the visor that Garrus has gifted him, it's no wonder that Cash can hook in from the Normandy's connecting. "I'll be on standby."
Very slightly JD nods to himself, which Cash detects for him. Only Mai elsewise can notice it. It takes a second for her to realize what's up, a hand of hers up, fingers rubbing together as if holding two coins.
He nods again.
"Your sign language thing. It's cute. Real cute."
Cash is very talkative they've both learned in that very codified smart-ass cowboy way, but that was just how AIs to them were.
A woman named Gianna Parasini greets them, past all the security measures and gates as they walk into stone colored prefabs and buildings, tunneling its way into the mountain that port is dug through. Even now they can hear the drone of snow as it pelts away at the planet.
Eventually stone turns to glass, and inside, the beginnings of the corporate world come through starting with the look of a dress and high heels. She's of the same stock as JD, he thinks to himself. A distant cousin or aunt looked like the way this woman did. It's the Italian in him, that Mediterranean history, that keeps his skin a healthy light olive even when the sun barely ever hits his skin, and he's glad that this woman also benefits from it.
It's a long-winded thought to just admit to himself that she's good looking.
Though she has to be in this world. One of his father's lessons: Look here Jon, the prettier the secretary, the shittier their business. The type of people who hire supermodels for paperwork are the type of people who are guilty of stuff I gotta deal with eventually, no doubt.
"As Administrator Anoleis's secretary, part of my duties involve orientation for new guests here on Noveria and Port Hanshan… That being said, I believe you're not the usual type of visitor here to Noveria." She says astutely, nodding in recognition as she types a few words into her own terminal at her desk. She gives a wide glance at Mai, giving her the usual regards. Mai, she's unnoticing, scanning her sectors as she has a gun in her hand and a hostile world around her.
Shepard shakes her head once. "This type of place isn't my cup of tea, but it's not up to me whether or not I'm here… We're investigating a lead in regards to the Geth and Saren."
Of course, she is. Parasini has that on her face as she looks at her console again. "You'll have to talk with the administrator about that. That, understandably, goes above my grade to talk about."
There's always higher management on a corporate world.
"Saren is a board member here?!"
JD scratches his newfound beard as the sound of Shepard going off on the Salarian in charge reverberates even through doors and glass.
For privacy's sake, Mai and JD are left outside by Parasini, JD and the secretary enjoying nothing less than an awkward imposition between the two of them as their bosses go at it.
"So. That's the Commander Shepard, huh?" She asks JD.
He nods just as he hears her start grilling into Anoleis about the very idea of a galactic extinction event about to happen and the fact that one of their members is very much responsible for it. Those are the words that JD hears Shepard make clear is the case.
The cough in JD's throat is summoned up, clearing it his voice. "In the flesh… I'm… uh, sorry."
"Oh, no, no." Parasini taps into her console. "The administrator is very used to the more vocal members of our community here on Noveria. Especially recently. It's that season, after all."
"And that season would be?"
Mai, all she can do as JD makes his small talk is to just cycling her sectors between the cameras and the guards just outside of that little reception square. Among hostiles she was, but not the type she knew. This was all business. This was money and corporatism that was as foreign to her as the idea of living in peace. Her interactions with money had still been nill, relegated to nothing but a simple confirmation of automatic pay bills on her omni. Mostly "paywalls" to certain xenobiology and combat reports as published by academics on the extranet that she was more than willing to acquire for the sake of intelligence work, but even then, apparently her bank account was a non-issue. There was non-issue however, and then there was money to build a planet up from the ground. This was where they were.
She overheard once, one of her handlers say how many ships she costed.
As if she knew what her own price was.
The glazed privacy glass and the steel and stone did little to hide Shepard's voice, but for Parasini, it was enough. "Fourth quarter filings are about now, and there's a fee gradient for company operations here based on… well, factors which the administrator has sway over. It's the difference between a bonus or not on this planet. Some people yell, some people invite him to these grand banquets and parties they have."
"Hm. Right." Reaching out, touching Mai's elbow, he has her attention as with a tip of his head he requests of her.
She nods in return, moving a little away from Parasini.
Her shoulders slump. She's a little less tense, regarding him.
"Your read?" He asks, forehead tipped at the cameras around. Glassy eyes look down on them and they stare back.
"Unprepared for a conventional assault. Three teams could move in and start a fast-" He shakes his head before she finishes.
"I don't think that's the call for this place."
"…Then what?" Her eyebrows furrow down at him and her lightning eyes burn. He meets them only as he can.
This place, it feels like a certain type of people along with the business types.
It feels like someone inside of their heads.