"What a spectacle we make." Krul groused as Jane pushed him through the shuttered markets. It was late, long past business hours. Well, reputable business hours anyhow. Shady deals were taking place in the shadows, each thug slightly twitchy, eyes peeled for the infamous Archangel. She could almost taste their fear. It hovered above the atmosphere, seeping into every darkened alley. "You realize he's probably fine and going to be pissed we risked ourselves right? Especially you."

"Me?" Jane squeaked in surprise as they turned the corner. "And you didn't have to come. All I needed was a location."

Krul barked, a deep, guttural chuckle. "He'd tan my hide if I let you go alone and I like my skin where it is, thank-you-very-much." Jane bristled but kept moving forward, checking the corners, glowing slightly as she kept them encased in a dense biotic barrier, careful to balance the energy, avoiding becoming a blazing beacon – otherwise known as an irresistible target. "Ah stoppit. People are gonna care about ya. Get over it."

"Uh huh."

"What? Don't like people giving a damn about you? Why the hell not? You want someone like that lookin' out for ya. It's a good thing."

"No. It's a good way to get killed."

"Who? You or Castor?"

"Not me… I'm..." She caught herself, teeth to tongue. Dangerous waters these, a slip of the tongue, an injudicious word, any of it, would lead him to the truth – and he'd finally turn away in disgust. There was a difference between glossing over the details with the rest of the squad and Krul, a native to Kar'Shan. He'd know exactly who she was, what she'd done. I've grown too comfortable, too close. She swallowed, steadying herself, redirecting the response to another truth, one that wasn't about her at least. "Caring makes you do stupid, reckless shit and he gives a damn about, everyone – people who aren't even his problem."

"So what's your solution Oh Wise One?" Tone mocking.

"Keep your head down. Guard what you have. And whatever you do, don't go looking for trouble."

She didn't have to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes. "Sure, sure. That's why we're strolling through the worst part of Omega at whatever fucking ungodly hour it is, because you're so hardcore, you don't care about anyone."

"No. Castor and crew are our people. It's different, you have to look out for the unit otherwise the enemies pick you off one by one. By the blasted four, it's basic survival! I shouldn't have to explain this. Ugh. Which way now?"

"They should be right around the corner. No. Not that one to your left."

The pair arrived to a disconcerting sight. Ripper, Mierin, Weaver, and Sensat were hunkered down whispering frantically between each other, they'd taken up defensive positions on the far side of a platform overlooking what could only be described as a small fortress – a rectangular housing unit, with concrete walls that were reinforced with massive, tungsten bars. If there was a door, she certainly couldn't pick it out.

"Shit. What's the situation?" Krul immediately scooted out of his chair, and with one arm around Jane's shoulder, propping him up, limped towards Ripper.

"Frank lost his shit. Boss tried to get to 'em…."

"Derius is in there." Weaver interrupted hastily. "We were gathering intel on The Blood Pack's newest grenade shipments when the man himself came out. We weren't expecting The Talons. Frank saw him, broke cover, and … guess they recognized each other. Derius started taunting him. Told him how sweet his daughter…tasted… Actually, I'll spare you the details. Frank charged in a blind rage. Garrus rushed after him, saved him from getting his head blown off right then and there but they were surrounded and out of our reach. Wound up captured. We were gonna blow the door but then..."

"The house locked itself down." Krul finished.

"Yeah. It's one of those smart houses. We were about to send someone to get you. They have the whole area jammed, can't get coms in or out."

"We have confirmation they're alive?"

"They think Castor is Mierin. They won't kill 'em. Probably doin' some torture, tryin' to figure out where the base is… I-I dunno about Frank."

Krul's fingers were flying over his omni-tool. "Shit. It'll take at least twenty-four hours to hack through this. Gonna get a probe in at least..."

"Way too long." Jane interjected. "How many guys do you think are in there? And how the hell did they get Castor? He's not a soft target."

Weaver gave her a strange look she couldn't quite read. Outside of anger, fear, and unbridled joy, reactions she learned during her years caring for Sciffy, human expressions were largely beyond her. There was just… too much there, like an explosion crossing a soft, meaty face. And the glob of hair hanging over his upper lip skewed readable features even further. "They electrified the whole area when he went for Frank, blew his shields out from ground. Some sort of interweaving network. Never seen anything like it. We fired back but … let's face it. We're no Castor. Once they had him incapacitated, it was over."

"Okay… but how many guys? And what species?"

"I'm not certain on numbers. At least ten. Mostly batarians, a few humans, but Derius is a turian. And there could be more..."

"Damnit! These assholes don't even have a window." Krul spat. "There's no way to ….. Ah. Here we go. Can't pull up a LADAR image without a probe but my virus is through the house's external firewalls, still can't lift the lock down though. The clever little shits have layers upon layers of protections. It'll take time."

"Time they don't have." Jane was chewing on her lip, eyes flicking to Grundan's omni-screen then back to her own, an idea crystallizing in her mind's eye. "Can anyone here make something like this? Or have it on them?" Her tone lightened, became teasing. "Ripper likes to look pretty."

"A… wig?" Sensat who'd crept up to kneel behind her, began rapidly shaking his head, his fast salarian mind catching onto her plan before she had a chance to voice it. "Bad idea Jane."

"They'll open the door for me, provided I can find it. I'll bring the virus directly into their base… then… well, that'll help? Right? If I find a port thing or whatever? I've overheard you guys plan ops before, don't look so surprised." She shrugged. "Worst case scenario, I'll kill them and figure out the rest in peace."

"Are you bleedin' mad?!" Weaver's face had gone a dark shade of red. "These guys'll do worse than just kill you. What Derius did to Frank's little girl was horrific… And I got an earful. You're not goin' in there."

Her face was set, eyes cold and distant. "He won't stand a chance against me." She glanced away, avoiding Krul's gaze like the plague and not admitting, even to herself, that she was a little uneasy at the concept of facing a turian. But she had to convince them somehow, otherwise Garrus and Frank were as good as dead. "I, a morta nil, will rip the flesh from his bones in the blink of an eye. Let me do this and I'll bring our people home."

The squad broke into a chorus of dissent. Each objecting to the idea of presenting herself as a trojan horse. All except Krul – who was quietly observing from the corner. She could feel his eyes on her, studying as if seeing her for the first time. Instinct told her exactly what his next words were going to be. She braced herself, waiting for the moment realization broke, focusing on the interweaving crack extending from the base of the pillar he leaned against, it wound from the ground to the highest points of Omega's dome, far beyond her substandard human vision. In certain places, the pattern reminded her of Ripper's tattoo. But then his voice came, tentative, low, pulling her back from the momentary escape. "Datmar?"

The question hung, mid air for a second before she swallowed the well of emotion bubbling up. No more hiding. The truth was banging down the door and he'd hate her for it, no doubt about it. Another reason to avoid giving a crap, inevitably people see the monster inside, inevitably they turn away. "Y-Y-Yeah..."

Silence fell for a few minutes. The tension was almost unbearable. Heavy breaths gave way to a sigh, and a slight nod. "Alright."

Weaver, on the other hand was having none of it. "No. Absolutely not. No god damn way. This is not what I signed on for. We are not sending some young girl into that hell hole, to be the sacrificial lamb, because we got our asses handed to us."

Krul's voice was calm, even. "She's not a child, and she has the skills to pull this off."

"What she knows about the galaxy could fit into a thimble, that makes her a kid! And she looks like a god-damn teenager. How sure are we of her age anyway?!"

Already, Sensat's omni-tool whirred as it constructed a long plait of jet-black hair. "Disagree with plan, risky, in my opinion." His eyes slid uneasily between Jane and Krul. "But… can tell when there's an… intelligence behind strategy an… understanding."

"That doesn't even make sense!" Weaver grit, scarcely containing a roar. "Back me up here Mierin!"

Jane tuned out the bickering in favor of watching a fascinating process, a dazzling weave of hair was materializing out of what looked like thin air. Sensat gently maneuvered his omni-tool, using the haptic interface to levitate the emerging braid. It looked so real. She repressed the urge to reach out and touch it, to trace her fingers through every strand in pure wonder.

Krul snapped his fingers in front of her face, drawing her attention from the spectacle."Over here." He pulled a small, circular device from his pocket, silver glinting off the glow of Sensat's omni-tool. In the center was a distinct imprint. A turquoise button. "This, is an instantaneous EMP. It'll bring their shields down. But it'll also fry any hacking device I send with you. So, be damn sure you can kill them because that's where this plan is going. You'll be on your own until you find Castor and Frank."

"Shields… that's the popping stuff right? Prevents you from being shot?"

Having abandoned raging for the moment, Weaver was watching closely. He made a strangled, choking noise in the background upon hearing the question.

"Yeah. Your biotics won't work on them. Well.. Okay… maybe yours will but it's not a good idea to try and use biotics alone. You can't maneuver people if they have their shields up. Understand?"

Jane was nodding along, face scrunched in concentration. Once satisfied she'd absorbed the information, he continued. "You can try and do some corrosive stuff… warp 'em with dark energy but it'll take time to eat through their shields. That leaves you vulnerable in the interim. Make certain your barriers are down before before hitting this, don't have an electrical charge anywhere on your body. In fact, your omni-tool..."

"I have ideas for that. It'll be broken before I'm in the door."

"It has to be completely deactivated. What are you planning on doing?"

"Having you shoot it."

Krul just stared at her for a moment.

"Hey my job is getting them to open the door. Your job is to tell me how to deal with the stuff my biotics won't work on." Time was wasting. At any moment they could end Garrus and Frank, provided the latter wasn't already dead.

"Run it by me. If it's not believable, you'll get yourself killed."

"Alright alright. Vorcha muggers. Going to say I need help, bat my eyes at them. You know, the whole helpless, dumb girl routine. Then I show them the omni-tool that somehow saved me from being shot, and ask if they can fix it inside or let me make a call."

"Let's have Sensat come up with the tactical approach for the omni-tool. Something more believable than a flimsy thing like that stopping bullets."

She quickly switched it off and slid the dormant bracelet from her wrist.

"Now these," Krul handed her five more devices, identical in every way to their predecessor other than the fact they were square. "Are EMP bombs. You toss 'em and count to three. Shit how do I explain this?"

"Three Mississippi's" Ripper offered. "Thas wha I do. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. Gots it?"

Jane nodded before Krul continued. "They'll detonate within a six foot radius."

She blinked, expression blank. "Umm.. My feet? Your feet? Castor's feet? They're all very different sizes."

"Shit um… Alright. See Weaver over there? He's six foot one…."

Weaver's eyes were dark, his glare boring into the batarian. Now there was a look she understood – cold, homicidal rage. She quickly stepped in front of Krul, eyes hard. Focused.

Weaver, softened under her stare, but only a little. "Darlin' listen. You don't have to do this. You have other options in life – Garrus and Frank made their bed. They saved you, sure, but you don't owe them everything. There's a whole world outside of Omega, and you've never even seen it. Listen, I have two daughters… a bit older than you, live on their own, but they'd love you, every inch. You can come back to Earth with me, I'll… I'll figure something out."

She walked forward, placing a hand on his broad, meaty shoulder, the same way Garrus had comforted her when she was upset. For whatever reason, she felt as though it was the right thing to do, even if she didn't have the faintest clue as to how to react, instead, choosing to mimic a behavior that brought her comfort, that stopped the odd, sniveling emotions when they crossed her human face. Not that she ever really saw it. No, just felt it. The burning eyes, damp and heavy. The sniffling. Weaver's own expression was a mix of rage and raw pain, something deeper than the now calling to him.

She was a weapon – molded into a tornado of chaos and death to be unleashed on targets, made to kill and terrorize. Concern from someone so much an elder, a superior, was a foreign concept. Hell, concern from anyone outside of Balya was more extraneous to her than this vast and mind-boggling galaxy she found herself in. And try as she might to shun it, it was all around her. The caring.

"Watch it." Krul warned. "It's Castor out here, my interference caught that but be more careful. This is hostile territory."

Weaver popped his head around her to glare at the batarian. "I've heard just about enough from you, asshole."

"You don't need to worry. I've fought lots of things… killed a lot of..." She didn't dare look in Krul's direction. "People."

Gathering her broken omni-tool from Sensat's outstretched fingers, Jane closed her eyes and imagined Weaver extending from the center of a circle to touch an abstract perimeter, turned it over in her mind's eye a few times, and set off. She skirted the base, ensuring her approach seemed like it originated from a different district. If the mercs had half a brain, they'd be monitoring the squad's position.

Sensat watched the young woman depart, dark curly hair bouncing in the faux atmospheric breeze. Watched as she fell to the ground a few feet from the fortress, sobbing and carrying on like a mewling hatchling. It was a convincing act. Merely ten minutes, thirty-seven seconds passed before a small passageway opened and two opportunistic cretins scurried out, all too eager at the concept of fresh prey. He could feel Weaver tense, hands flick to his rifle.

"This is god-damn insane. I'm here 'til we get her back, but then, I'm out. I don't care if she has ice in her veins or is crazy or whatever the hell just happened. She's a god-damn kid as far as I'm concerned. The type we're supposed to protect, not offer up on a silver platter. And if she can't pull it off, it's your head Krul. I mean it."

"Trust me," The batarian turned to face the overtly hostile human. "She's not the one who'll be cryin' for their mama in a few minutes. Those poor fools have no idea who they just let in."

Author Notes: We're starting to get a better picture of Jane and the tragic way she sees herself. Originally this and the next chapter were one, but together, it was nearing 5k words. And I'm not even close to finished with chapter 73.