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Requested by :

Espacole

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Ilium was a gleaming Metropolis of curved, elegant skyscrapers that spired up out into a sun-kissed sky. Swarms of air-cars trailed long, thick lines through the skies around and sometimes even through the towering monoliths. Below them, the world was darker, more grey and wreathed in a kind of mist or fog Pyrrha couldn't identify, but even that had its own, odd kind of beauty. There was a disparity there, between the high, sun-touched peaks of steel and glass and the fog-covered below, but that only made it all the more beautiful.

Like oases, made more vibrant and beautiful for the starkness of the desert around them.

Beauty borne out of surrounding tragedy…

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I need to speak to Zaeed about teaching you puns." Pyrrha chuckled, flicking a look at Penny, leaning against the wall beside her. Penny hummed and leaned forward, bending at the hips and cocking her head to look up at Pyrrha cutely, but pressingly, and Pyrrha sighed, "I was thinking of… Home."

"I see." Penny murmured, straightened and leaned back against the wall. After a moment, she slid closer and wrapped her arm around Pyrrha's waist in a simple little hug.

It was enough, though.

After a moment, Pyrrha turned her attention away from the city and instead to the… Well, she wasn't quite sure what to call it. It was a promenade, clogged by round shopping kiosks, and hugged the side of one of those tall skyscrapers. Men and women and aliens milled about around them, talking to the workers minding the kiosks and working to whatever ends they sought. And all of them, finely dressed - for wealth or for work, it didn't matter.

So she and Penny drew more than a few eyes, Penny in her simple dress and Pyrrha in her Mistralian armor and dull black and white body-suit.

At least it was clean...

"Ah, kids." Pyrrha smiled as Zaeed came over, grinning toothily and carrying a little bag of bottles and smaller sacks. "Brought lunch! Since she's takin' so long up there."

"She's meeting an old friend, we shouldn't judge." Pyrrha shrugged, turning to look around the corner at the ramp Shepard had vanished up almost an hour prior. She shrugged and took the burger from the man with a small smile, though, "I admit I would rather we get on with things, though."

"Bored?"

"I suppose." She shrugged, "I spent so long in medical I, well…"

"S'normal to wanna walk around and fuck some shit up when you get outta the hospital, Red." Zaeed shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground and eat. After a second's hesitation, Pyrrha shrugged and slid down the wall to join him and Penny followed suit. The old bastard chuckled and handed her a couple of soda-bottles and spoke while she passed them on, "I ever tell you 'bout that time I caught a bullet back on Earth?"

"No." Pyrrha smiled, "But I imagine you, ah, 'catch bullets' often. And have done so in many places."

"No, I mean actual bullets, not… Not rounds like we fire." Pyrrha wasn't quite sure the two of them fired the same kind of rounds, but she nodded regardless. Sighing wearily, Zaeed went on, "Forget where, but it was down in the old middle east. Arabia maybe? I dunno, doesn't matter. I was young then, more concerned with creds than sense. So while we were patrollin' some low-contact zone I had my shields down."

"That is not very bright, Friend Zaeed."

"No, it ain't, but runnin' a shield system for an hour is thirty creds." Zaeed shrugged, "That's a meal right there. And back then, creds were hard to come by. I wasn't the beautiful, known face you see now."

"You are easily the most handsome man I've ever known that got shot in the face."

"Fuckin' red-haired bitch." Zaeed laughed and shoved her gently, shaking his head and scratching at his chin while Pyrrha smiled warmly. "But anyway, some fucker popped up. Sumbitch put a bullet - a real bullet, usin' gunpowder - right through my thigh. Hurt like a fucker, and no one would let me live it down for years."

"I thought that such weapons had been out of form for… Decades."

"Apparently, those old Russian shitters ain't quitters." Zaeed laughed and slapped his thigh, "Got the fucker's rifle, though. Old and rusted to shit, but it sold to some collector off somewhere for a pretty stack of creds. I ate good for a while. Upgraded my rig, too. And that's when I bought Jessie, too."

"Your rifle-"

"Why are you all sitting on the ground, exactly?" Pyrrha turned and looked up at Garrus as he leaned against the corner and Shepard stepped around him, smiling thinly. She had her helmet under an arm, and…

Were her eyes red?

Before Pyrrha could dwell on it, Zaeed grunted, "Havin' lunch, Scales. S'it look like? Didn't wanna wander off for seats, so brought us some burgers outta the ship and we all popped a squat."

"And everyone in the market is staring at all three of you for it, too." Shepard sighed, though she sounded more amused than angry. She frowned and drummed her fingers on the top of her helmet boredly for a moment before asking, "Nikos, will you be alright running an op with me?"

"Of course."

"No, you misunderstand." She shook her head, flicked a look over her shoulder, as though she were looking for someone, and then went on, "I mean running an op with me. Both our recruits are pressed for time, and Miranda just passed a time-sensitive matter to me as well. I can't be in all places at once."

"And you want me to…?"

"Take Zaeed and your Krogan-"

"Grunt."

"-Grunt," Shepard nodded, "and follow the details I'm forwarding to you. Your target is Thane Krios, who is expected to assassinate a Miss Nassana Dantius."

"Assassinate-"

"She's a vile, wicked woman." Shepard assured her, smiling thinly and then frowning deeply as she explained, "Liara told me all about her. Torture, rape, drug dealing… She was even investigated for lacing food at a restaurant with powerful narcotics. Those who ate it passed out and woke up craving it. She put them to work in her clubs and hotels. Their entertainment for a fix."

"Gods…"

"How could a person be so vile?"

"Pretty easily, Pen." Zaeed grunted as he stood and rolled his shoulders, "We ain't savin' the bitch are we?"

"No."

"Then there ya go, Pen." Zaeed shrugged and turned, smiling gently down at the sitting girl. "Evil bitch oughta be dead 'fore the day's out. I know you ain't super happy 'bout killin', but at least she won't be able to hurt no one no more. Eh?"

"I will have to be comforted by that, I suppose." Penny sighed but stood, pressing herself against Zaneed in a warm hug that made the old mercenary stiffen before he returned it, shooting glare at anyone that so much as smirked for it. Without pulling away, Penny asked, "What of me, Commander?"

"You, Vakarian and I will secure the Justicar, Samara." Shepard explained, "Liara knows where she is and I'm not anticipating too much fighting. While we do that, Jacob and Miranda will see to Miranda's personal matter as far as they can."

"Very well."

"If everyone is done eating, then what say we go save the world?" Shepard smiled and turned away, sliding her helmet on with a hand and rolling her shoulders. "One wayward weirdo at a time."

Pyrrha couldn't help but snort at that.

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'Dark Space' was a misnomer, to Harbinger's ancient, edified opinion. Space outside the galactic rim was not 'dark', light was merely more diluted. By radiation and distance, and so, required different tools to view. With them, Harbinger could see their kin around them as plain as the brightest day on the most sunned planet in any system. Hundreds of thousands of ships, and twice as many of their lesser tools left over from a hundred Cycle ending Harvests, moved as one towards the distant glow of their destination.

Of another grim task set before them all.

As they moved, exchanging millions of trajectory calculations and status reports with their kin, Harbinger's thoughts turned rimward and beyond.

"Nikos…" She was such an odd creature. So unique. Her companion, Polendina, was as well, but Harbinger could excuse much of their abilities by way of technology. Nikos, however, was wholly organic.

Such possibility for future harvests, and the Goal as well…

Still, they detested such a categorically metaphysical power as this. Who could know what its boundaries were? Worse, what its side-effects were? It would bear testing, perhaps a task for their servants in the interim to the next Cycle, but if it came related to other errors to hand it was possible that those risks would outweigh the benefits.

Harbinger's thoughts were brought to an uncomfortable crawl as the Presence touched their mind once more.

"Nikos lives." It said, voice registering across a hundred systems - some of which could not typically register sound. "You failed."

The Presence was as strange as it was familiar, registering its own thoughts directly to Harbinger by means unknown. By means beyond even the Reapers' profound knowledge. Unacceptable to be certain but, for now, not anything the Reapers could do anything about. Perhaps another task for the next Cycle.

Regardless, Harbinger answered, "We are not defeated. When we arrive, she will be ours regardless of all other outcomes."

"Well, you sound quite certain of yourself, don't you?"

"We do." Harbinger answered, "We are. We are the inevitable tide. Order on chaos. Rising to answer, always. Rising to silence the noise and restore the galaxy to its rightful state. Rising to protect all life, at the cost of the few."

"Protect it?"

"We safeguard all life by the annihilation of what little has reached its apex." Harbinger explained, "We impose order on the chaos, as we have said to you ."

"Chaos is eternal." The Presence said simply, "No matter how much you destroy, how many you wipe out, it will continue. Evolution on a galactic scale cannot be stopped."

"..."

"What's the matter?" The Presence asked quietly, "You're awfully quiet, all of the sudden."

"You are not that which spoke to me before." Harbinger observed the fact simply and plainly, verified it by the Presence's silence, and catalogued the far more important fact posited, "This means that you are not, can not be, a unique entity."

"Oh, you think so?" The second Presence asked coyly, "I've been told I'm plenty unique."

"You are not." Harbinger mused, "There are more of you. A race… But, no matter."

"Oh?"

"All will succumb to the Harvest. In time." Harbinger answered simply, "We will develop the technology necessary and come for you. And we know from the other Presence that you can not hinder us. They explained it as a term of will. Rules imposed on the self. But it is not. Is it?"

"You think you can challenge gods?"

"We have fought forty one races which identified themselves as such." Harbinger countered, "You will fall in time. As all have. As all will. Present us with new data, as you are forebear did, or leave."

"She'll beat you, you know."

"The words of a braggart." Harbinger dismissed the Presence, "Meaningless. This audience is over."

Harbinger felt the Presence recede, after a moment, but remained wholly uncomforted by the withdrawal. Its mere presence alone meant a great many things Harbinger had not contended with. Had not known they needed to contend with. And even now, they were not sure how they could contend with it beyond relying on rules beyond their own power. Imposed by those the Reapers could not reach.

Unacceptable…

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"Something's happening at Dantius Towers!" The Asari warned as they circled the tower and its unfinished twin. Pyrrha leaned against the window as they circled and looked as closely as she could.

"Flashes..." Pyrrha murmured, eyes narrowing, "Electricity?"

"Those ain't fuckin' flashes, Red." Zaeed growled, dragging his Vindicator across his chest as it extended. "Those 're fuckin' rifle flashes. Who the hell runs security in this goddamn place, Asari?"

"My name is-" Zaeed's rifle hummed menacingly and the woman cut off and stammered, "E-Eclipse. Nassana hired them months ago. They've never acted out like this, though…"

"No?"

"No." She confirmed, "Just the rumored beatings and trap-contracts normal for Ilium. And some bad work-place safety. A lot of people have fallen from the Towers while it's being built. All accidents-"

"A likely fuckin' story." Zaeed snapped, "Red, Kid-"

"Am I the kid there?" Grunt rumbled quietly, "Cuz I ain't Red."

"-we gotta go in." Zaeed finished, ignoring the growling Krogan entirely. "Cuz unless Shep's little assassin friend is runnin' a damn raid on the place with his own goddamn army, I have a feeling someone got paranoid and ordered a 'house cleaning' op."

"House cleaning?"

"Means someone got paranoid and decided to just off everyone." Zaeed explained quietly, trading a dark look with Pyrrha before growling. "Probably 'cus our recruit is plannin' on offin' her. She found out, and wants to clean house in case anyone is gonna try an' help 'im get in. No workers, no help gettin' in."

"Monstrous…"

"Yeah." Zaeed nodded, "S'why I said we gotta go in, before everyone's bloody dead. Asari? Land us and bug out, we'll handle shit."

"And I agree." In spite of it, though, Pyrrha smiled and turned to the old man. "I'm surprised you care enough to want to do it, though."

"Fuck you mean?"

"Normally, you would have said something like 'let's just wait and see what happens' or 'we gotta go down there to get the recruit out' or something like that." Pyrrha smiled warmly and Zaeed flushed, but she didn't prod him on it as the air-car descended. Instead, she rolled her shoulders and sighed, "Grunt, Zaeed, protecting the workers is the priority. I know we need the assassin as well, but that will come later."

"Shep won't like it…"

"Commander Shepard will understand." Pyrrha assured him, though he did have a point. Success on their mission was paramount as well, so she added, "We're going to make for Dantius herself at best speed. If we share a target, then we're likely enough to run into him while working towards our other objective."

"Got it, Red."

"Battlemaster."

The air-car shuddered as it landed and then shuddered again as Grunt thundered out of its confines and into the open. Rounds peppered him and the air-car both, and drew a startled scream from the Asari as Grunt stepped in front of her door to shield her and raised his heavy shotgun. It barked twice as Pyrrha climbed out, and she saw the headless and armless drone fall as a third round cracked through the air and ripped apart a Fenris mech as it charged. Zaeed joined the Krogan, moving around the front of the car and putting neat bursts down-range into a third, fourth and fifth mech as it came to meet them.

"Good work." Pyrrha complimented them both as she stepped forward, twirling her spear in her hand. "Everyone, together! Lives count on us."

Zaeed didn't say anything, but Grunt cackled and bellowed as he charged forward, eager to fight whatever the reason. Shaking his head, Zaeed followed, trading one thermal clip for another as he went and Pyrrha followed.

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Thane watched the air-car lift up and turn away with a pensive frown and tightened his grip around the mercenary's throat. He felt bones give way and dropped the blue-haired woman as he turned and watched the trio come into the building. The Krogan he didn't recognize, but the man was Massani - a known rogue, but one that arguably did more good than harm in his efforts against the Blue Suns and the Batarians. His presence told Thane that they weren't here to help the Eclipse, he detested them at least half as much as he did the Suns.

But the red-haired woman…

She intrigued him, everyone had seen the video of a red-haired woman with a spear brawling with a Krogan Biotic. And holding her own, no less. But what had brought her all the way out from Omega?

And why, he wondered, were they here?

Not to save Dantius, Massani ruled that out, but perhaps for her in a wholly different way?

He would have to see...

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EL Giralo :

I could see that, kinda, but I dunno where the chips will fall.

The Prime Cronos :

A, Garrus is 'a bad Turian', like he said. So Turian culture wouldn't be at play here. It's all internal.

B, Western militaries don't all tolerate you questioning orders. A few, like Germany, include allowances for refusing orders for moral consideration, but all train you to obey first and question later. My cousin is a Marine, and he once got put on shit detail for three weeks for merely suggesting a different patrol route to his sergeant because 'that wasn't his damn job, thinking'.

Frosty Chops :

This is a start, to establish they're doing this in the background and so we can revisit later. Not the be all end all.

Redx1221 :

Sounds like Gen:Lock. And a neat concept, besides. Not one I'm gonna use here, it'd be a lot to use, but maybe in the future I might use it for something.