Chapter 7 - The Goddamn Unexpected

In This Edition of Badass Weekly

'Kalahira Was My True Love' - Confessions of a Drell Assassin

N-7 Training & Fitness - What Other Species Can Learn From Humanity's Elite Special Forces

'I Told You Fools To Let Her Go' - Eyewitnesses Tell How Blasto Series Actor Jorgal Dreed Took Out Mercs While Alone & Unarmed

The M-90 Indira: Who Says a Sniper Rifle Can't Be Automatic? - Our Experts Test & Rate

Who Was That Masked Man? - The Enduring Mystery Of Omega Vigilante 'Archangel'

Khalisah al-Jilani walked briskly but warily along the Shin Akiba thoroughfare, carefully eyeing every other passerby she came across. Normally, she wasn't as cautious, but she was now in one of the roughest parts of Zakera Ward: a section home to smugglers, mercenary gangs, dealers in illicit substances, unlicensed back alley doctors, and other, even more lowlife types. C-Sec patrols were less frequent in this region and when they did appear they were more heavily armed than usual.

Even more worryingly, al-Jilani was beginning to think she was lost. She had walked along this route twice already searching for the address financial advisor Barla Von had given her, but could not find the exact location the volus had specified, Munden's Bar. Von had cryptically told al-Jilani that she would only be able to get inside between 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. and didn't elaborate any further. She went early assuming she could talk her way past the door when she got there. That, however, required actually finding the door.

Khalisah checked her omni-tool and saw that it was now just past 3 p.m., meaning she had been wandering around for nearly 20 minutes. She decided to continue walking to the end of the block one more time and then call the volus. Maybe Von had gotten the address wrong? She reached the end, then noticed a modest sign flashing 'Munden's Bar' with an arrow underneath. How had she missed it before, she wondered? 'Doesn't matter,' al-Jilani thought. 'Get in, find the guy, see if an arrangement can be made, then get out of here.'

Munden's Bar turned out to be a dingy dive populated with dregs of all different species, including a few al-Jilani didn't recognize. The air was thick with clouds of smoke while the floors reeked of stale beer and other booze. Most patrons were slumped over on their tables or on their stools with their heads resting on the main bar. Some were lying in puddles of whatever they had been drinking, having knocked over their glasses in their stupor. The few who were upright looked at Khalisah as she entered, then returned to their drinks. Several evidently had their auto-translators turned off judging by how much of the chatter in the bar was gibberish to al-Jilani's ears. The only recognizable sound came from an old-fashioned human jukebox - or more likely, a device made to look like one - which played a melancholy early 20th century blues song.

The main activity in the bar at the moment involved a pair of turians arm-wrestling at one table. Shortly after Khalisah entered, one of the turians suddenly slammed his opponent's hand down to the table top and began exulting in his victory, ignoring that the other fellow had fallen off of his chair and was writhing in pain on the floor. At another table a bored human woman in a revealing outfit that she was decades too old to pull off lit up a cigarette and gave the victorious turian a slow clap.

Khalisah made her way to the bar, which was being minded by a young-ish human male with droopy eyes and a tamed pyjak crouching on his shoulder. "I'm looking for a mercenary named Zaeed Massani," she announced. The bartender said nothing, instead pointing to an alcove at the far end of the bar. Khalisah walked over, taking care not to step in what she hoped were merely puddles of beer on the floor. The alcove was occupied by two humans and a drell, all three seated around a small table and sharing a bottle of whiskey. A large electric fan was running in the corner, making this the one section of the bar clear of smoke.

One human fit the description Barla Von gave for Massani: older male, close-cut gray-flecked hair, deep scarring on the right side of his face, a glassy right eye, broad chest, heavily muscled arms covered in black tribal tattoos and wearing an unusual, custom-made suit of body armor. The other human was roughly the same age as Massani, slimmer, with long black hair streaked with grey, leathery skin, a broken nose and a long vertical scar that extended above and below his left eye. He wore a dark overcoat and a purple, military-style beret. The drell was green-hued, thin even by his species' standards and rather sickly-looking, though the expression on his face was beatifically calm. He wore a light crimson coat that exposed about half of his chest.

Massani was talking in a gruff, vaguely British-sounding accent when she approached. "And so Shepard backs 'im right up to the window and asks again for Thane's location. The commander says, 'You've got two ways down. Express or coach. Yer choice.' The goddamn idiot doesn't take the bloody hint! Instead folds his arms n' says, 'I've got nuthin' to say to you.' So Shepard just pushes 'im out of the high-rise tower window, then looks out over the edge and says, 'How about goodbye?'"

The long-haired human leaned back and laughed. The drell drolly remarked, "I saw the merc's fall from a different part of the building two stories up. His descent took so long that I had time to pray to Kalahira for him before he hit the ground."

"I haven't told you the best part yet!" Massani exclaimed. "Immediately after Shepard sent the dumbass merc out the window, the salarian bets me 100 credits that the guy will bounce exactly once after he hits the ground. 'Yer on!' I says, figuring no kind of shield or barrier can absorb the impact from that high of a fall. The guy's just going to paint the pavement when he hits, right? Well, wouldn't ya know it, the crafty, one-horned bastard won the goddamn bet! We look over the edge and see the merc hit the ground, ricochet back up a few stories, then go back down and hit the turf a second time, this time landing with a splat. 'How in bloody hell did you know that would happen?' I ask. The salarian says he spotted that the merc was using an experimental type of shielding that reflects, not absorbs, kinetic energy, and sends the wearer hurtling backwards if the incoming force completely overwhelms the shields. 'Probably died the first time he hit the ground. Still managed impressive bounce,' the salarian says as he takes his winnings from my credit chit," Massani concluded, then roared with laughter.

The second human cackled along with him. The drell merely smiled, then softly announced to the humans, "We have a visitor."

Massani and the other human looked up and saw al-Jilani, then glanced back at each other and lightly shrugged. The long-haired human refilled his shotglass of whiskey and took a sip. "I'd say, 'You look out of place, miss.' But then everyone at this bar is out of place in one sense or another," he announced, speaking more articulately than al-Jilani expected given the surroundings. "I am not opposed to an attractive young woman such as yourself joining us. I do have to warn you though that the story you just heard is as intellectual as the conversation gets around here." He offered to pour al-Jilani a shot of whiskey. She shook her head 'no' as she took a seat at the table. The human continued, "My name's John. This humble establishment is mine. These two gentlemen are my professional colleagues. My drell friend here is Thane. The unfortunate bastard even uglier than me is Zaeed. And you would be...?"

"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. I came here looking for Mr. Massani. I may have need of his services," she declared.

Massani contemplated his potential employer. "I'm semi-retired now but I'm still potentially available for contracts. I 'ave the luxury of only needing to work to keep myself occupied. If it's a hit ya want, my drell colleague might be the better pick."

Thane shook his head. "Unlike you, Zaeed, I am fully retired," the drell declared, then stood up and adjusted his jacket. "In any event, I must bid you goodbye. I have an appointment with my doctors. Amonkira guide you, my friends." He turned to al-Jilani and gave her a courteous bow. "Should Mr. Massani accept your contract, miss, you will be in good hands," he declared, then quietly strode out of the bar.

As soon as Thane was out of earshot, John turned to Massani, nodded in the drell's direction and asked, "How much time does he have left?"

Massani grunted and sadly shook his head. "None, actually. Poor sonuvabitch shouldn't have made it this goddamn long, according to the docs."

John knocked back the rest of his whiskey. "Well, he has no regrets, he's patched things up with his family and he's going out peacefully at the top of his game. Near it, anyway," the old mercenary declared. "We should all be so lucky."

A loud smashing sound caused all three at the table to look towards the other end of the bar. The loser of the turian arm-wrestling match had apparently slammed a bottle against the head of the victor, shattering the object but failing to knock the other turian unconscious. Both were now grappling, knocking over tables and other items as they struggled.

"Idiots," John grumbled as he stood up and began striding over to the turians. "Hey! Take it outside!" he shouted. This distracted the winner of the armwrestling match just long enough for the losing turian to grab a second bottle and shatter it over his opponent's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. The standing turian, now armed with a broken bottle, lunged across a table at John as he approached. With a speed that belied his apparent age, the human swiftly dodged to his right, produced a hunting knife from within his overcoat, then swung back to his left. John sank the knife into the turian's still-outstretched arm, nailing him to the table. The turian shrieked in pain. John pulled the knife back out, releasing the turian, who yanked his bleeding arm back. As the turian cradled his arm against his chest, John threw a punch into the alien's left mandible, sending him staggering backwards. "Out. Now," John demanded. The turian weakly nodded, then helped the other turian back to his feet. Both scuttled towards the main door. The few patrons of the bar who even took notice of the incident merely shrugged and went back to their drinks or slumbers, whichever was the case.

"Ol' John hasn't lost a step. That's nice to see," Massani casually remarked, then turned his attention back to al-Jilani. "So, what is this contract you have in mind?"

Khalisah, now even more eager than before to finish her business and leave, began speaking quickly. "I am a reporter. I am working on a story about Aria T'Loak. The other day, my..." al-Jilani began, then corrected herself. "The other day, an asari I know warned me that I was... endangering myself by doing this. At first, I thought she was overreacting. But then I thought, 'I can afford private security. Maybe I should get some. Just for the time being.' So I started calling all of the reputable firms on the Citadel, but..."

Massani cut her off. "Lemme guess: as soon as you mentioned T'Loak, they turned you down. Am I right?"

Khalisah nodded slowly. "I asked the crime reporter at my news outlet if there was anyone I could hire for protection who wouldn't be scared off by T'Loak. That reporter is now working from his apartment because he thinks the office might get bombed because of me. I eventually went to Barla Von, the volus financial advisor, because I know he has contacts in the... well, underworld. He said there was only one person he could think of who might take my contract: Zaeed Massani." In a halting voice, al-Jilani added, "Was he right?"

"Well, I'm not saying 'no,' but I need to know more first," Massani replied. "Is this just a protection gig? That is, bodyguard work?" Khalisah nodded. "Ok, good to know, 'cause if what you were aiming for was having T'Loak taken out, well, I'd have to turn you down too. The risk/reward ratio just doesn't balance out, you see? Keeping her at bay, on the hand, that's at least doable."

"Is T'Loak really that dangerous? I mean, she's just one asari..." al-Jilani began.

Massani chuckled. "Didja see that vid they made about her recently? What was it called? 'Never Fuck With Aria'? Somethin' like that..." he remarked. Khalisah nodded and the mercenary continued, "You know that scene at the end where she n' the krogan called Patriarch go at it? The one that all of the critics said was patently phony 'cause even a high-level biotic wouldn't be able to take out a krogan warlord like that on her own? Yeah, well, I've met some of the krogan and asari mercs who were there when it happened. Each one of them told me the same story and it was pretty much way it happens in the vid. There was one difference, though: instead of winning the fight by dramatically knocking Patriarch out cold, the real T'Loak beat him by shattering most of his bones and crushing one of his hearts."

A shiver ran down al-Jilani's spine. "But you'll do it? Provide protection, that is? I can afford your fee, whatever you charge."

Massani sat up and leaned towards the reporter. "You know, there is sumethin' else you can do besides hiring me. A way to save yourself a lot of money and a lot of grief: don't write about Aria T'Loak in the first place. Just let it go," the mercenary said. "I mean, c'mon, is it really worth all of the trouble it will bring? Just for one news story? Be honest now."

For the first time since entering this part of Zakera ward, Khalisah didn't feel worried or anxious. Instead, she was now angry and feeling the need to lash out. "Yes, it is worth the risk," she retorted, jabbing a finger at Massani as she spoke. "T'Loak is up to something. Something big. Something dangerous. Something that she is doing right here on the Citadel. I will not pretend to look the other way while she does it. I will expose T'Loak before this goes too far," she exclaimed, the ire in her voice rising as she talked. "I will not be bullied and I will not silenced. I will stand up for humanity and tell the truth. And I will do it whether you help me or not, Mr. Massani."

The veteran mercenary leaned back and smiled. "Well, you got the fire to see this through, at least. And going up against T'Loak will be an interesting challenge. Not quite 'suicide mission' level, but not far off either. Alright, I'm yer man if you want me," Massani declared. "To be honest, I mostly just want to see how this plays out."

Khalisah finished unpacking her suitcase into the hotel room dresser though she wasn't sure why she had bothered. In a few short days she would just have to re-pack it. Massani had warned her to spend no more than three days at any hotel before relocating to a new, randomly chosen one. It was the best way to keep T'Loak's assassins off of her trail. Staying at her regular flat was far too risky, he had warned. For the time being, she would have to live out of a suitcase.

"All settled in," she told her bodyguard via the secure com line he had set up for their omni-tools. "I still don't understand why you're still at my apartment."

"Yer safe for the time being," the mercenary replied. "I'm just arranging a few surprises should anyone attempt to break into yer place."

"Umm, 'Surprises?' What do you mean?" Khalisah inquired. "Didn't you say my building's security was easily hackable? If that's the case, wouldn't the hacker be able to also spot any changes to the security system and deactivate those too?"

Massani grunted out a "Hang on a sec," and the com line was largely silent for a good 30 seconds aside from the faint sounds of tinkering and the merc's own humming. "There! Done!" he eventually announced. "Sorry to leave you hanging for a bit there but I was doing some rather intricate work on yer coffee maker. To answer yer question, yes, a good hacker will spot any modifications to a standard security system like the one yer building has installed. But they'll never see stuff that's not connected to that system at all. Things like the white phosphorus charge that'll go off if they break in, then fancy themselves a cup of tea and start to brew a pot. And if they try to draw a bath, oh-ho-ho..."

Khalisah stared at the merc's image for a few moment before responding. "How often do home invaders draw themselves a bath?"

Massani rubbed his chin. "It could happen. The point is, the best way to fight back is to do the goddamn unexpected. To get at them when their is guard down, so they become overly cautious n' start second-guessing themselves."

"How many booby traps did you put in my apartment?" she asked.

The veteran mercenary thought for a second. "Let's see, there's the coffeemaker, the bath, the garbage disposal, the sound system, the candy in the jar on the coffee table and... that's it," he announced. Massani immediately added, "No, wait, there's also the alarm clock, the deviled eggs in the fridge, the salt n' pepper shakers - whatever you do, do NOT make any short, quick motions with those - the foot rest, and the spare toothbrush in the bathroom. That's all of them, I think. Yeah, pretty sure of it."

"You'll remove all of those once this is over with, right?" Khalisah inquired.

The mercenary shrugged. "If ya want, sure. It's yer contract. Seems like a waste, though," he remarked. "Alright, heading to yer hotel now. I'll be nearby but out of sight. Just hit the panic button on this line if anything happens. I'll come running n' take the bastards down."

Khalisah nodded. Massani was almost certainly going overboard, she thought, but she was nevertheless impressed by his thoroughness and feeling safer as a result. She was also relieved that she would be able to return to work tomorrow as normal. Khalisah had previously assumed that any bodyguard she hired would have to hover near her at all at times, making the already tricky job of being an investigative reporter even more awkward. But Massani said they would make too conspicuous of a couple and therefore easy targets. Instead, he would keep a discreet distance, scope out any vantage spots that attackers might use and pounce on them first.

"One other thing I shoulda asked 'bout earlier," Massani added. "This asari friend of yours who gave ya the warning 'bout T'Loak: how well do ya trust her? Why would she know T'Loak's intentions?"

Khalisah bit her lower lip for a moment as she tried to formulate her answer. "I... don't know if I can trust her. I mean, I believe she doesn't want me harmed. But she's a Shadow Broker operative and she's kept secrets from me before. She claims the broker doesn't know anything about what T'Loak's up to, which has got to be bullshit."

"What is she to ya?" Massani bluntly asked. "Not trying to pry n' all, but it helps to know who might be able to getcha to drop yer guard."

"She was... We were... But now, I don't know..." the reporter stammered.

"I get the picture," Massani replied. "If yer not sure, don't let her near. T'Loak can be devious. Using the, uhh, 'charms of the asari' to her advantage was partly how she took over Omega in the first place. So she might have gotten to yer friend. Or she may be using yer friend in some other way."

Khalisah nodded, and turned off the com line. She then checked the messages on her personal account and then the ones at the Westerlund News offices as as well. The latter included a boring in-house message from the editors, an inquiry from the accounting office regarding an expense account item, a few calls from readers commenting on her latest story, one nutjob yammering conspiracist nonsense about the Council Spectres and a brief message from one of the interns asking her to call him back.

"Got your message, Dylan," Khalisah asked the intern. "What's up?"

"Oh, you will NOT believe this but that vid star Adria S'Voz, the asari in 'Vaenia,' stopped by Westerlund News today," he replied. "Dressed really fine too. Brought the whole newsroom to a halt. Jake damn near tripped over his own tongue," Dylan chuckled. "Said she was looking for you specifically. Something about wanting to apologize in person for having you removed from the Blasto set the other day. She called it 'an overreaction' on her part and wanted to make it up to you... by granting a private, one-on-one interview."

The intern paused for a moment, then continued, "Yeah, S'Voz made a serious point of emphasizing the 'private' part."