The silver eyed agent

P.S. this is a crossover that tries to merge the world of Mass effect (created by the Bioware) and Claymore (created by Nohiriro yagi). All rights about the respective personages used are theirs and only theirs. I am not in any way, shape or form trying to gain money by using them. This is a simple work of fiction. Clear Now?!

p.s. english is NOT my first language. I will do my best but if you notice grammar mistakes or a better way to spell a phrase do not hesitate and warn me ok?

Chapter 1

Deep space. Somewhere near the serpent's nebula. 27 January 2183

The Serpent Nebula. An almost unknown fraction of space next to the Terminus system. Bordering the Geth's space and devoid of habitable planets, even infamous groups of pirates like Blue suns or Blood Pack tended to avoid this piece of space like the plague. With no planet to use as a base and the ever present chance of meeting a Geth warship, only a fool would try to venture inside these strange, uncharted lands where the only point of interest was a shrouded jump gate.

And yet today a ship was here, braving these dangerous places

Not a warship: too small, almost no weapons on display. The ship itself looked old, scarred. Untended.

Currently the small ship was orbiting near an uncharted white star, waiting patiently a command from its master. On the inside, the small ship reflected the lack of space: only four rooms were available, to be more precise a small infirmary, the engine room with its batteries, a small bed room furnished only with a small bed, an armchair and a desk, and last but not least the command room where the only actual occupant of the ship, an human man on his thirties dressed in a form fitting fatigue was currently residing. Huge quantities of sweat adorned his face and one of his nervous hand repeatedly moved toward a small canteen, now almost empty.

The pilot in question was clearly drunk, or at least a little tipsy. Many empty bottles rolled across the entire room and the whole place smelled of alcohol, but the pilot could not care less. "Stupid, stupid idiot." said the pilot to everyone and no one in particular. His breath smelled of alcohol, sweat and fear. Of one too many slepless nights and cranky days. "Stupid Aran, you knew that one day or the other your loose tongue would have brought you some trouble!"

And yet the month had started with such good omens.

Aran, the pilot in question, is an human and one of the many pirates, smugglers and (sometimes) slavers that infest the Terminus systems; he is not affiliated with none of the most important mercenary group that roam in the galaxy like the Blue suns, or the Eclipse, choosing instead of working alone and not having to share his spoils with anyone. Unlike many habitants of the Terminus system he is not an experienced fighter or a biotic, making him one of the least dangerous person that someone could meet in this part of the galaxy, but this deficit was compensated by his almost supernatural smuggling abilities. You need an experimental weapon crafted from the Turian Hegemony? No problem! The painting of an ancient Asary matriarch? Just say the word! Need to smuggle hundreds of kilos of red sand inside the Citadel? Done! Aran at this point of his years had managed to build quite the respectable reputation as a relatively trustworthy and fair smuggler in the Terminus system, and smart enough to avoid poking at someone's else business, like the Shadow broker.

He is neither the most famous smuggler in the galaxy, nor the richest, but Aran is fine with that: his own skin is worth far more that some thousand of credits.

But he had a problem: he love to boast about his skills. He always loved to do this.

All of this mess happened some days ago. Aran had just finished one of his routine works, a smuggling contract on behalf of the Eclipse, and the only thing that the young smuggler wanted to do was to spend every single credit accumulated in some night club on Omega, an ancient mining station and now the most lawless and infamous space station of the galaxy. This station was currently governed by an ancient and cunning Asari called Aria T'Loack, the queen of Omega, and thanks to her rulership the station and his dangerous criminals, managed to prosper and become a beacon of lawless authority in the Terminus system.

He was satisfied, at least at the beginning. Almost all the doors of the space station are open if you possess credits or friends, something that Aran posses in abundance. Afterlife mean strong drinks, great prostitutes of every races, loads of laughing and no animosity whatsoever among his clients. The Afterlife is after all the heart of Aria's power and no one in all Omega or the Terminus system is brave -or stupid- enough to challenge the queen of Omega inside the center of her own kingdom. Even the biggest mercenary organizations like the Blue suns, the Blood pact or the Eclipse are mindful of such unwritten rule.

Here a member of the Blood pact could meet another of the Eclipse with the certainty that no fight would ensue and simply enjoy their drinks.

Aran entered inside such a club just after docking his ship in one of the main hangar of the station, eager to blow off some steam. He was not deluded: Afterlife greeted him with heavy and loud music coming from dozens of stereos, dozens of Asari strippers showing their perfect bodies upon raised platforms and the promise of a great, unforgettable night. The smuggler wanted to have fun and immediately reached the counter at the center of the club. First of all he loudly claimed to be the best smuggler in all the universe while offering a free shot to whoever would drink in his honor, something that lured dozens of bored people always eager for something new and free to exploit. After two shots of Asari wine an entire scratch company was singing his name. Three shots and a pair of asari strippers materialized next to him, their amazing bodies rubbing his back and purring sweet words inside Aran's ears. This night went on for hours, making it one of the most memorable soiree that the young smuggler even had, assuming he managed to remember something after the eleventh drink. Unfortunately the fate had other plans for young Aran, much bigger plans than simply laying drunk for hours in some damp corner of the station after the biggest drinking contest of his life. The young smuggler, intoxicated as he was after so many shots didn't noticed the some of the people interested in his exploits were not drinking merrily and praising their new patron. One Salarian in particular was only faking his celebration while working with his omni-tool, checking information about this new noisy guest of the Afterlife. After discovering that said smuggler was not a fluke, but was instead a genuine expert on his job a small smile crept in his face.

"This is Illish" said the Salarian in his intercom while sending a package to some one "Tell T'Von to send some of his goons and detain this human. Just wait until he is completely wasted. No sense annoying the queen even if we are technically on her pay grade."

A simple acknowledged from someone was the response that the Salarian received. Satisfied Illish decided to leave the Afterlife and let the young human have his last hours of happiness. He knew, after all, what was about to happen. The sound of jollity and entertainment were so loud that followed the Salarian even after he managed to extricate from the crowd of people that were having fun in the club and reaching the exit. Not even the goons sent by his employer, a pair of burly Krogan with the symbol of Aria of their chest, managed to stop the feast in a reasonable time.

Ten hours later. Unknown part of the Omega station

"By the all of the hells, my poor head!" Cursed a very drunk Aran after he finally managed to cast off the enormous hangover accumulated after a night that would forever remember in his heart. His head was pounding like a drum and the mother of all the hangovers in the galaxy was ripping him apart but at least he was finally conscious. The last thing he remembered was kissing a pretty little asari dame before drinking the tenth glass of brandy. After that, just a blur.

-Well, at least now I am relatively fine- mused Aran while trying to remember everything that happened last night

-Now let's wake up and- his trail of thinking ended abruptly when the young smuggler noticed that he was incapable to get up from the place where he was sitting. Someone had chained him on top of a chair with iron bonds.

"What the fuck!" exclaimed Aran. His body immediately stiffened in the vain hope of winning the bonds that were keeping secured on top of the chair but all his effort were for naught: many chains kept him tightly bound, groaning but refusing to break. A feeling of dread started to fill the smuggler's body.

"Ok Aran, calm yourself!" said Aran while trying to maintain a semblance of control

"Check where you are, find something to free yourself. You can do this." Immediately his eyes scanned the room where he was imprisoned and noticed that whoever was his captor he was not a poor man. The place looked bigger than his own ship and everywhere expensive furnitures like mahogany desks, silken carpets and crystal lamps. A cutting edge computer was placed next to a couch and, for what Aran could see, the entire floor was made of wood! One hell of a luxury if you live on Omega.

"Whoever is my captor is, must be filthy rich." commented Aran "But I have no enemies here on Omega, who could ever" The sound of a door opening grabbed Aran's attention. His captor was here.

He was a Turian, dressed with a beige attire and at least one head taller than him. Black, striped skin adorned with discolored crests. No tattoos adorned his bare face, sign that he was a renegade for his people. He had a large mouth and eyes devoid of pity.

Aran lost what little control he had after seeing him: he knew him. Everyone on Omega knew him. His name is T'Von and according to the rumors he had once been a prominent general inside the Turian hierarchy, just before having his career ingloriously interrupted by a sordid story of corruption. Cast aside with shame he ended up somehow on Omega and managed to become the only gladiator trainer allowed inside the station. Aria trusted him and only him on that matter. Whoever angered him angered her, and that was the reason why Aran almost fainted for the fear after seeing him, a thing that T'Von noticed immediately.

"Relax human" said T'Von to Aran "If I wanted you dead you wold already be." Aran's sight of relief was probably heard across all the station.

"Then why I am here?" asked while tugging the chains

"Because I have a business deal to offer you, and because if you shall refuse I will break your neck and I do not want you squirming away and ruining my shot." simply replied T'Von.

Well, that was very comforting!

"You need my for a smuggling work?" realized Aran immediately. The mandibles of T'Von twitched in approval

"Correct, I am glad to notice that you are not a total idiot. I made some researches about you, human: Aran Rioss; thirty three years old, professional smuggler from at least five, known as one of the most reliable and expert in your field. Smart, honest, precise, exactly what I need."

"Then why all of this mess?" asked Aran in disbelief "I am not in hiding and sure as fuck I would never deny a meeting with a client like yourself."

"I know I know boy but, see, I also discovered that you cannot keep your mouth shut for a minute, and I d'rather avoid dangerous leaks of informations. I am sure you understand." Aran simply groaned. His fucking mouth, of course it was his mouth's fault.

"As you already know, Aria graciously allowed me to find, train and prepare the gladiators that fights inside the arenas of Omega and, modestly aside, I think I made quite a good job during these years. Alas, the crowd is insatiable and is finally showing signs of being tired of what we are offering: They do not want more Krogans or biotics, they want something new; something unheard of, a new kind of gladiator."

"I see" said Aran interrupting him "Then why not contacting some slaver organizations? They are surely better suited than me for such a task."

T'Von backhanded him in the face with one of his taloned fist, making clear that he did not appreciated being interrupted, a concept that a now bleeding Aran immediately grasped.

"As I was saying" continued T'Von "The slavers do not have what I am looking for. Their products are always broken and useless, good only to fill the arena with their blood. I need a gladiator, not a slave, and you are the one who shall find it." finished wi a small grin.

Aran opened and closed his mouth once, twice before finally connecting the words he heard to his brain. When he finally managed the only phrase that managed to get out was a simple

"Care to repeat?"

"You heard me, boy." answered T'Von "You have all the qualities that you need. Accept it and the reward will be astronomical. Refuse and I kill you where you stand."

Aran didn't even listened to the menace, his brain was too busy analyzing the offer he had just received: T'Von wanted him to find a gladiator, but not a simple one like a Krogan. He could not even be an yagh because that beast were quite known in the shady circles of the galaxy; he could not even be a biotic so no ex soldier of the army or Asari matron. But what the hell was hoping to find T'Von? An human strong enough to defeat a Krogan barehanded? An Hanar capable to defeat dozens of enemy by himself? Insanity, but refusing meant death.

In the end, after much thinking, Aran decided to accept the offer for now and running to the relatively safety of her ship. If worse come to worse Omega would become a forbidden place to him, an annoyance but not the end of the world.

"Very well mr T'Von, I accept your offer."

"Perfect! Now it is time of the persuasor." said T'Von

"Persuasor? What are you talking about? Aho!" Aran felt something sharp like a needle puncturing his right wrist, immediately followed by a strange dizziness. His body suddenly became numb and strange colors filled his eyes.

"What I have just injected you is an experimental drug concocted by some biology expert residing here on Omega." Explained T'Von with a calm voice. To Aran it felt far and barely audible. "Officially it does not exist and I am the only one with a cure. Its effect are not fast, it usually take thirty days to kill a person, but they assured me that the results are most painful. Do not try to find an alternative cure after exiting from my apartment block. I made already sure that no one in the galaxy would even dare hiring you to smuggle even a pencil before finishing my work."

The weight of the statement it Aran with the strength of a truck

-Fuck, I'm dead- screamed his brain, on the other hand T'Von was smiling at his fear

"You have thirty day and then, if you do not have found my prize, the poison will pay for me."


What happened, after knowing from T'Von now literally had his life on his talons, would forever remain a blur for the young smuggler. The only thing that his hazy brain managed to remember are the Turian freeing him from the bonds, a desperate run for his ship, the entire run made with the icing feeling of fear seeping trough his body, and getting as far away as possible from the station. He could not even remember how did he managed to activate the ship and run away from the station. Only after leaving the ominous station behind and drinking copious quantities of alcool Aran managed to regain some form of control. The first thing he decided to check was if was true that T'Von locked all his partners and buyers until he honored his end of the deal, and unfortunately the Turian words proved to not be idle threats: no one answered his calls, and the few who did simply told him to leave them alone. The same luck followed him when he tried to contact some well known mob physician, receiving in exchange only silence.

"For fuck's sake!" cursed Aran after giving up "This is a nightmare, it must be! That fucking bastard of a Turian could not be serious. What does it expect from me? I am not a slaver!" But it was not a nightmare, the chain marks and needle scar were enough proofs that everything was real and that, more that everything else, moved him to fulfill his end of the bargain.

His first attempt lasted three days and involved a thorough research in the official canals of the galaxy, like extranet and military channels, but he quickly discovered the futility of this action. A retired soldier was not what he was looking for. His second attempt involved the Batarian hegemony and their immense slave markets, all packed to the brim with any kind of creature of the galaxy, all broken and ready to be bought; Aran lost the count of the number of slave pens scoured by his eyes while desperately searching for something that could please T'Von, but even that lead proved to be void. The thing he was looking for was simply impossible to find, even among the Batarians.

Ten days of desperate research passed without results, and Aran's efforts started becoming even more frantic: No lead was left unchecked, no trail untouched. The all ended in a failure.

Depressed by all these in successes, Aran decided to try a different approach: instead of looking for a sentient creature he shifted his gaze toward a feral one, something like a rachny monster or a new species! Something that could satisfy that bastard of a Turian, but even that trail proved to be in vain. After the fifteenth day desperation gripped the young smuggler, to the point that he almost killed himself just to end this charade! He somehow managed to ward off such sentiments and resumed his work, this time deciding to check the serpent nebula, an uncharted piece of space. Maybe there was something new inside unexplored space and besides, it was not like he had something to lose at this point and he could not care less for breaking Citadel's rule.

Tired fingers set the course while the ship computer prepared the mass effect core in preparation for the travel. Everything was running smoothly and Aran ended up waiting patiently for the Mass effect jump and in that moment the disaster struck: the fear, the pain, the tireless search for the perfect gladiator destroyed Aran's body and mind, granting him a tenacious fever that refused to leave him even when packed to the brim with antibiotics and painkillers. On normal circumstances, Aran would have stopped his efforts, lied down and waited for it to pass. Right now he simply refused to care, and this proved to be a fatal mistake. Just a second before departing, a sneeze managed to escape from his lips, one so strong that forced Aran to push himself near the control panel and completely screw over the course. Red claxson immediately flared on all the ship and the ship started vibrating and preparing itself for the jump but with a totally wrong angle. Aran immediately noticed the danger and tried to fix the damage but it was too late: the jump was set and all system were already locked. The only thing left to do was sitting tight and praying that he would not have ended inside a star or something like that.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" cursed Aran in rage and fear "I knew that my tongue would have become the death of me!"

The ship started shuddering while the metal hull moaned like a living creature. All the panel control were going insane and the less was said about the engine the better. Aran closed his eyes and remained still. At this point only the computer and an huge dose of luck could save him.

-Here goes nothing- thought Aran one second before the launch. The ship computer ended to prepare the coordinates and finally jumped, much faster that it should have.

A blinding light hit Aran and suddenly the world stopped.

Unknown planet, 21 47, Alphonse territory

"Look mum, a falling body!" exclaimed a small child while pointing at the sky with her little fingers. Her companion, a tall looking woman in her twenties, looked at the sky just where her little companion was pointing at. The child was right: a small, purple mass of light moved across the void, his fiery tail shining like a bonfire lit inside the blackest of nights "It is a falling star, Raina" answered the bigger girl with a grin "I have never seen one so bright. We are blessed."

"Maybe it is a star creature! You know, one of the creatures mentioned by the priests of Rabona!"

The young lady and their fantasies, always ready to see the best situation in anything they see. How can they do such a thing is a mystery, and frankly the woman could not care less: Raina was happy, she was happy and her happiness was one of the reason she allowed her to accompany her during her work trips alongside the island.

A common person would have been surprised to see a young woman, barely twenty-five years old, traveling alone with her seven years old daughter along the island, especially considering the huge amount of yomas and bandits that still roamed the roads, but the truth was that these travelers: the woman's name was Lena and, on a shallow look he appeared as a pretty and helpless human girl with her daughter: a well toned body adorned by medium-sized breasts; long, powerful legs, the results of many years of training and walking; a small but cute and regular face, with long, ash-blonde colored hairs closed into a ponytail that almost reached her backside. A normal, beautiful girl; until someone look at her eyes.

Silver colored eyes. The eyes of a Claymore.

Everyone on the island knew about the Claymores, women kidnapped by the organization and transformed in silver-eyed witches, creatures half yoma half human and far stronger that a normal human being. Their giant broad swords that gave them their famous name was so heavy that trained knights were unable to use them in battle, yet a Claymore could effortlessly use it without breaking a sweat; some Claymores were even famous for using two of such monstrous weapons during battles. Such strength and agility were the dreams of many would be conquerors, but all of this power had a steep price to pay: awakening.

Simply put a Claymore had to constantly fight his yoma side unless she wanted to become a ruthless monster that devoured human guts on a daily basis. This was a daily battle for a Claymore, one that not always, despite the Claymore's efforts, ended in victory. Sometimes the pain is simply too much to overcome and in that case the Claymore "awaken". After such incident only two endings await the unfortunate warrior: the awakened Claymore send a particular card, called the Black card, to a friend of hers so that she could be mercifully killed or, if it is already too late for that, the other warriors band together in an hunting group and put her down, a task easier said than done considering that the awakening drastically improved the martial prowess of any warrior.

Raina, the child next to her, was also a Claymore but different from her: the process of creating a Claymore must forcibly begin at the age of six and be constantly monitored during the development phase of a child. For that reason the organization that created Claymore possessed strong ties with the slavers bands that infested the island: they needed recruits and the slavers provided….at the right price. Raina had been one of such recruits and had already received the initial treatment that resulting in her skin becoming porcelain white and having silver eyes as well as possessing a fraction of the Claymore strength.

They were both dressed with brown and green traveller robes with the only difference of Lena having silver shoulder guards equipped with a scabbard.

Just some months ago the Claymores were subjected to the tyrannical whims of the organization, the group of people that experimented of them and forced them to fight for their gains, but everything had changed with the coming of the seven renegades warriors, the only survivors of the infamous battle of Pieta. After that day these renegades swore on the graves of their fallen comrades to topple the organization and their foul experiments, so that no other child would suffer like they did.

They managed to win at the end, but at a steep price: one of the seven warrior died at the peak of the final battle, and many poor lives paid the ultimate price during this civil war. The Claymores were finally free.

However at the eyes of many people the Claymores were only witches, monsters as dangerous as any yoma and unworthy of being called human beings. This caused massive frictions among warriors and common people. Only one city, the city of Rabona, proved to be the exception of the rule and decided to not reject them, mostly thank to the fact that the dominant class, the clergy, saw the warriors as lost lambs and not bloodthirsty monsters. Thanks to their efforts more than thirty warriors managed to find work as guards, construction workers, maids inside the city, something, something impossible to even think outside these holy walls. They even accepted the youngest trainees as orphans in their convents.

But what to do with the ones unable to be assimilated inside the city, the ones too insane or too prideful to be accepted? The answer was simple: leave them to their own fate.

To an outsider this could seem a cruel decision to make but the honest truth was that not everyone could be saved. Sometimes you have to leave alone someone and hope for the best.

Lena belonged to the former group. A warrior that, before meeting Raina, simply lived hand-to-mouth while trying to give a new purpose to her life. Even among the her peers Lena was considered a solitary type, aloof and distant to everyone but two warriors that trusted with her life. She barely talked to people and always preferred to be on her own. But when Raina crashed in her life everything about her changed: she became her reason to live and for her she decided to come out from the shell, to find a work so that she could give to Raina an house, nothing too fancy but cozy and comfortable, and a proper life and to stop rejecting others. Being able to run faster than an horse for days allowed Lena to find work as courier and messenger for various trading guilds. It was a good work, well paid and not too dangerous with the only downside that sometimes she was forced to stay away from home for a considerably amount of time. Other times, like this time, Raina even insisted of accompanying her if the travel was not too tiring or long.

These were the people that were looking at the strange purple light, and after some seconds their expressions of interest became tainted with fear. Normally a falling star disappear after some seconds, a fickle light in the immensity of the night, but this one refused to disappear; the second passed and the light started to become brighter, closer, more dangerous.

Lena's body immediately reacted to the potential danger and her yoki, the yoma parts in her, started to flow along with her blood inside her body, mutating and improving it with a sickening sound of strained flesh and stretched muscles. Her silver eyes changed of a bright golden color.

"Mum?" asked Raina scared. The child's grip on Lena tightened all of a sudden

Lena refused to answer, her body totally focused to the potential treat coming near her, now so close to let her eyes notice a strange figure inside the fiery light, some kind of construction.

-I have Raina to take care, but if that thing is dangerous I cannot escape. It seems faster than Miria. Fight it? No, too dangerous. What can I do?-

These and thousand of other thought raced inside the young warrior's mind, but all were interrupted when the strange object ended his race, hitting the terrain a bit far from their position with so much strength that for a second the land itself quaked in fear. Dazzling light invested the countryside and for a moment both Lena and Raina were forced to look away from the crashing land.

"Mum, have you seen? The star has come for us, what are we going to do?" Asked a terrified Raina.

-What are we going to do indeed- mused Lena: come back and report the incident to Miria? A fair plan if not for the fact that in the meantime that...thing from the sky would remain unguarded.

-If only i were alone! It would have made everything much simpler!- cursed Lena inside her mind. After some second of tense reasoning she finally reached a conclusion

"Raina listen well, we need to check what is that thing. Do you remember my lessons about how to hide yourself at the eyes of an enemy, human or yoma?"

The girl quickly nodded

"Good, cling to my shoulders." The little girl quickly obeyed and wrapped her arms around Lena's back. Once she was securely tied to her body Lena started increasing the quantity of yoki inside her legs and prepared her legs for a long run.

"If something happen to me" said Lena with a serious tone "Take my stuff, follow the road and escape to Rabona, am I clear?"

"Mum, I can't" tried to say Raina but Lena angrily interrupted her

"AM. I. CLEAR? Repeated with an hint of command. Raina swallowed a lump of tears and nodded

"Good, let's go." Lena stretched her limbs and ran in the direction of the strange light, her limb unnaturally fast. In less than five minutes they were already gone.

So, this is my first attempt of writing a fan fiction, and i have to admit it: i am scared shitless. I am not a professional writer and english is not even my first language so for all that i know this first part is a complete mess unworthy of being called story. I hope someone will find it intriguing and if not well, it was worth a try.