He wished that he could've said that today was going to be a good day.

Normally, he would. His eyes were closed and he inhaled deeply. His head rose high and twisted sideways, stretching until the joints in his neck gave into a satisfying pop. A relaxed yawn left his lungs right after, and the edges of his mouth curled up into a slight smile.

He was content.

His tongue rested lazily in his cheek as he enjoyed this small moment of unadulterated bliss. He inhaled again, savoring the sun's warmth on his calloused skin. But when he reopened his eyes...he choked.

He had witnessed it all. The hell that had rained down from the sky. The screams of the dead that had echoed throughout every street. He watched in utter horror as human civilization crumbled around him, with sentient starships standing within the ashes of its grave. He could remember looking up at the starless night, and thinking that the very fabric of reality was being torn apart when the Citadel started emitting an orange ball of energy that scorched the world's surface.

Thankfully, the vision only lasted for a mere moment as he quickly blinked the nightmare away. As it faded, he could see the current condition of London flooding back into his view.

It was still a smoldering ruin, but at least now the skies were clear and mother nature was beginning to reclaim ground. And the sentient starships that caused all of this destruction were now just mountainous, lifeless husks that littered the entire planet. Their massive remains were nothing more than a berating echo of an eternal cycle finally broken.

Despite how unnerving the sight of their giant corpses was, the fact that the threat of imminent destruction was thwarted by humanity—leaving organic life victorious in the end—instilled a potent feeling of hope within him. It was the reason for his earlier meditation. But, just like his surroundings, the mental scars of war will still take time to heal.

Still, it wasn't going to stop him from trying to bask in the glory of victory. He threw a tentative smug at one of their dead frames several kilometers off in the distance, a destroyer class that had fallen on its side with its legs now dipping into a nearby river. The water bashed against it as it tried to find a path around it.

Serves you right, bastards.

He couldn't help but find it poetic now. Earth is Humanity's birthplace, and it became the place where these metal beasts met their destruction. It began and ended with Humanity, the true protectors of the galaxy. He had hoped that perhaps now, with everything that Humanity has done, then the aliens would finally give them the respect that they rightfully deserved.

But it didn't seem that way.

Rebuilding efforts had slowed greatly in recent weeks. Aliens were leaving the system in droves every day, and there was no sign of them stopping. As much as he tried, he couldn't possibly understand why. The Sol Relay wasn't even fully repaired yet.

To think that the aliens would rather spend several years, or hell, even decades in space to get home rather than stick around and assist their saviors in getting the damn relay working...We bled to save all of your sorry, scaly asses, and this is the thanks we get?!

He scoffed. It made him absolutely furious. Humans were always being left on the back burner.

After all, it was Humanity that foretold the return of the Reapers. It was Humanity that was continuously ignored until they finally arrived. And when they did, it was the aliens that expected Humanity to save them. And of course, Humanity did!

And now that it was over, the aliens didn't even want to stick around to help recoup in the aftermath.

Jackasses. They sure say thanks a lot but they never really show it! The man thought with a snort. Typical of them.

He wasn't the only one that felt this way. Many others believed that it was time for humans to finally have the upper hand in this galaxy reborn. And they weren't going to squander this chance when the Alliance and the other races were too busy focusing on rebuilding efforts.

It was why he was here—Taking that chance.

He had set himself up on a stakeout that rested on the crest of a small hill. From here, he had a vantage point that overlooked a modest park, giving him a clear view of the surrounding area.

Scanning, he had pinpointed his objective. Two targets, both were traveling up through the park's center.

The nature of the targets was a couple of quarians that seemed busy conversing with one another. They had large bags with them; luggage, but they didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry.

The man knew a lot about them. He had been following them for a couple of months now, talking with them. After a lot of work, he could confidently say that he had come to gain their trust. Even just recently, he had found out that they were about to leave the Sol system. That meant that it was time to put plan to action.

There was a sudden stab of static that buzzed at his inner ear, which quickly lifted to reveal a voice. "Bravo-2, Bravo-2 are you in position?"

His finger tapped at the communicator.

"This is Bravo-2, affirmative," he responded. "What's the status of Bravo-1's objective?"

"Failed to obtain. Some suit-rat caught him. He made sure he left no trace."

The words went through his ears but it took time for his mind to catch up. Once he understood what he heard, he was floored.

The news tore at him voraciously. "Dammit!" The man hissed, throwing his pistol into the ground in front of him.

Bravo-1 was his team leader and a good friend. He remembered how much he admired the man's resolve, as well as his vision for humanity's future. He would speak with such passion that the same vision had rubbed off on him.

Now, that man was dead. Certainly with purged gear and foaming at the mouth with a self-ingested Cyanide pill.

He recollected his weapon through clenched teeth. He needed to refocus, and grieve later. What mattered most right now was the task before him. It's what his old friend would've wanted anyway.

"What's our plan now?"

"Bravo-1's target will be moving towards the Citadel in the next few weeks and we have something big planned for that. But for now, your mission is still a go. Be fast, Bravo-2. Human dominance is at stake."

"Understood," the man responded. "I'll radio when I've completed the mission."

"Copy. Over and out."

Curiosity spiked him over what "big" thing they had planned for the Citadel. Whatever it was, he hoped he could play a part in it, to honor his team leader. He scowled as he imagined his corpse lying in the grass somewhere, unable to see the future he so desperately desired.

Don't worry sir, I'll make sure we succeed.

He looked back toward his targets. It was time.

Bravo-2 psyched himself up, twisting his neck once more, though failing to pop the muscles this time. He checked his pistol as well as his gear, then thumbed at an array of tubes that were hidden under his forearms, filled with some sort of pressurized liquid. After a moment of satisfaction, he rose up and finally strolled down the hill to meet them. Adrenaline spiked his senses.

"Bosh'tet! I think I forgot my scope!" Said one quarian, a young woman that was clad in a sandy color with a light blue visor.

"Don't fret. I have it in here," said the other—a man who was similar in age and wore green. He was carrying a rather large amount of luggage, which was comical considering the woman hardly carried anything at all. Bravo-2 knew them well enough now that he could guess that the male quarian had likely insisted on carrying most of it.

Good kid. Shame.

He put on a smile. Another act. With a raised hand, he cupped it around his mouth to create a makeshift megaphone.

"Lia! Kenn! You two leaving without saying goodbye to your favorite person?" He shouted across the park.

Both quarians shot their heads toward him, forgetting their conversation entirely. Lia raised her arms high in an excited manner and was already moving in closer to greet their friend.

"Hayden! We were looking for you!" She shouted.

"Glad we could catch you before we go!" Kenn shouted just as loudly, expressing his joy as much as he could with several bags laden in his arms.

All three moved closer until they were in a small circle, each of them within arm's length. A friendly quiet surrounded them as they looked at each other.

"So," 'Hayden' breathed, mocking a sorrowful tone. "I guess this is it, then, no?"

Lia and Kenn looked downwards with a soft sadness, nodding in confirmation.

"You know the relay won't be fully functional for a while yet," Hayden said. "Where could you guys possibly go?"

"We're actually going to take a stop by the Citadel first and see if we can help," Lia answered. "I tried there around two years ago for EVA work after the first Reaper attack. Figured I'll try it again. I doubt they'll turn away quarian help now."

Hayden nodded, then turned towards the other quarian. "And what'll you be doing, Kenn?"

"Considering that all I know is salvage, I'm sure they'll have me wherever Lia is. Ever since we met after our pilgrimages, our skill sets have always tended to compliment each other quite well."

"I see, so you're not really leaving, just helping out on the Citadel?"

"No. I'm sorry, Hayden," Lia apologized. "Yes, we'll be helping out, but I'm afraid we won't be coming back to Earth. Once the Sol Relay is repaired, we'll be heading to Rannoch."

Lia paused, looking wistfully up to the sky with her luminescent eyes, and spoke softly. "...home."

Hayden had to stop himself from snorting in both disappointment and disgust. Sure, help the Citadel, but not the people down here that really need it.

"I...understand," he responded. "Do you have people expecting you on the Citadel? Anyone to greet you once you're there?"

"Not really, I don't think," Kenn answered, to Hayden's satisfaction. "We're just volunteering, doing our part. The Citadel is the heart of the galactic community. Don't want the other races to think us quarians too concerned with Rannoch to offer assistance where we can. It'll help reestablish our presence."

Hayden raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised Kenn. You sound like a politician."

"Yeah, well. I've been around politics a lot these past few months. Hearing whispers, that sort of thing."

"What kind of whispers?" Hayden asked with a raised brow.

"Oh, sorry! That sounded suspicious," Kenn backpedaled. "I've actually been hearing a lot of good things, so uh, good politics. Like trade relations and embassies being granted. Even people seem to be more open to the volus getting a seat on the Council."

The Council. Hayden had to stop himself from scoffing. The Council is lost, or dead, who cares. The last thing we need is aliens establishing their politics over our goddamned skies!

"Only time will tell, I guess," Hayden responded neutrally.

Kenn shrugged, causing him to wince under the pressure of the luggage. "Say, you want to come see us off? Our little ship isn't too far away."

Hayden shook from his thoughts and nodded enthusiastically, preparing himself for his next course of action. "Oh, absolutely!" He said, coming around behind them and putting his arms around their shoulders, intentionally shoving himself in between the two. "Lead the way!"

The trio left the park behind and moved onward into the rubble of the city. There was still a lot of cleaning up to do, here on the outskirts of London. Plenty of trucks could be seen racing up and down streets, with humans hanging on the sides to drop down and pick up debris. Hayden noticed that each truck had at least one krogan, presumably for the heavier lifting.

Navigating the streets without getting in the way of the workers was slow and hampering. It wasn't until the noise of the trucks had dulled behind them that the trio finally reached their destination, which was hidden away in the center of some more broken buildings.

What awaited them was an old and empty torn-up shuttle, hidden amongst the other wreckage in a street full of craters. It looked somewhat repaired, although whether it could be deemed space-worthy was sketchy at best.

Hayden was surprised nonetheless. He had expected to see another ship where the two quarians would have booked passage, not to see them have a shuttle entirely for themselves. Not that he was complaining, it made the next phase of his plan much simpler.

"How'd you guys even get your hands on this?" He asked.

"I'm a salvager," Kenn reminded him, sounding proud of himself as he moved forward, carefully setting his collection of bags at the shuttle's door.

Hayden gave his quarian 'friend' a sidelong glance. "So what you mean is that you stole it?"

Kenn whipped his head around so fast that he looked like he was about to suffer whiplash. He certainly wasn't expecting that kind of response towards his handiwork.

"Of course not!" Lia said, jumping to his defense. "It was destroyed, lost in the rubble! All we did was fix it up!"

"It's still technically Alliance property."

Lia paused, trying to gather her thoughts. Her glowing eyes narrowed behind her visor. "You think the Alliance is going to chase us down over a hunk of flying scrap metal?"

"Hey!" Kenn exclaimed indignantly.

"I don't think anything," Hayden said. "I'm just saying it's something you should have taken into consideration."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Lia snapped. Her voice bounced off of some of the surrounding rubble, bringing attention to how loud she was becoming. Her embarrassment became infectious and she quieted significantly, leaving a thoughtful silence between them.

"Then what do you want us to do?" She asked after a moment.

Hayden's mouth opened then closed, taken off guard by the question. He wasn't quite sure how to answer.

What do I want? I want you to stay here, and help get Earth back on its feet. I want the aliens to stop turning up their noses at us. I want them to stop worrying so much about the Citadel and the Mass Relays when they already have more than enough people working on them. We're not galactic social outcasts. And if it didn't take a reaper invasion to make them see that...then we'll have to do something a little more.

"Noth-nothing...Nothing at all," he finally answered.

One of Lia's eyes widened more than the other, evidence of a raised brow, but she didn't press. Her last day on Earth was soured enough over a shuttle. With a sigh, she looked up and around at the city ruins.

"I wish I could've seen this place before the war," she said, looking at the wide variety of destruction done to the buildings. "I can tell that it used to be beautiful. It will be again, in time."

Oh, don't say that, Hayden thought, feeling the tubes under his forearms once again. I have to do this. I need to do what needs to be done.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of the shuttle door opening wide.

"Well, you mind helping me load these in?" Kenn asked, lifting a bag from the ground. Hayden released an annoyed sigh and took the bag next to him.

Kenn lightly chuckled in response and walked over to the shuttle's cockpit. "All right, I'm going to go through the pre-flight checks."

"You do realize that most of those aren't even necessary?" Lia responded, collecting another bag that seemed to belong to her.

"Hey, you're the one that says we're flying a hunk of metal. Better safe than sorry."

Lia made a regretful sigh. "Listen, Kenn, I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, yeah."

She entered the shuttle and turned towards its rear while Kenn focused on the cockpit. Hayden, seeing them apart, took a deep breath and pulled a tube from his sleeve. His adrenaline spiked.

"Hey Lia, I snagged some turian snacks on my way out, I heard it's really good and I got them pressed into paste."

"Oh! Thanks!" Lia said without looking. "That's...really thoughtful of you. Put it back here, I'll have some on the way to the Citadel."

He grimaced. "No, c'mon. Try it here, I wanna see what you think of 'em."

"I'm not really hungry at the moment."

"Try it!"

Lia groaned and turned towards him. "All right, by the ancestors, fine!"

She extended her hands outward to which Hayden promptly fit the tube into her grasp. She was already fitting the tube under her mask when Kenn piped up from the cockpit.

"I'll have it if she doesn't want it."

Hayden didn't respond as he watched the tube empty as Lia ate its contents. Her eyes narrowed once more as she enjoyed the taste. Once sure that she had consumed it entirely, he finally answered his quarian friend.

"I'm sorry, Kenn. I really am, but you're not needed for this. To be honest, I'm glad at least one of you doesn't need to be."

He pulled a Carnifex pistol from his hip, still keeping his focus on Lia whose eyes quickly became confused.

The strange words with the familiar sounds of a weapon's components being extended grasped Kenn's attention. Even without looking, Hayden could tell that the quarian was turning in his seat to see what was happening. He shut his eyes tightly.

I really, really am sorry.

"Now what in the name of the ancestors is that supp—"

BANG!

"UNGH!"

Hayden winced as he heard glass shatter from the gunshot. He felt shards of it and some kind of liquid spray past him, with some of it catching onto the back of his turned head as well as onto his arm and boots.

"KENN!"

He opened his eyes and felt nothing but pure guilt as he looked upon Lia. The sunlight from the opened shuttle door showed that her mask was sprayed with a red liquid, joined by her widened eyes that stared disbelievingly in the direction from which it came. Even Hayden couldn't bring himself to look at what he had just done.

They stared at each other. The silence ached.

Then Lia suddenly jolted forward.

He was unsure whether she planned on attacking him or pushing past him. Regardless, he took a sharp step backward to get into a stance and reluctantly raised his hands to defend himself.

It wasn't necessary, as Lia did neither. Her movements quickly became sluggish, and she ran into him aimlessly. They both shared confusion about what exactly it was that she was attempting to do.

"Hayden! The hell are you—!" Her words slurred and drifted, much like the following punch that she tossed to his face, which instead landed on his chest armor with a pitifully soft smack.

Still unmoving, Hayden watched as her bloodied mask looked up at him. At the man who killed her best friend. And she found him struggling to keep eye contact.

It wasn't just him. A strange sense of realization dawned over her, and her luminescent eyes glazed over and became softer. It took her a moment to understand that she was struggling to retain focus.

"The hell?" she murmured confusedly. "By the ancestors."

She suddenly dropped to her knees fast, as if the energy in her legs were sapped away entirely. Hitting the ground, she managed to keep herself up by the palms of her hands, and the weight of her helmet rolled backward to keep her looking upward at the man she thought she knew.

Air began to crash in and out of her lungs, faster and faster as she tried to remain coherent. Hayden could see that she was searching for his eyes, and all he could do was look down at her with concealed shock.

Soon after, her gaze shifted and began to dim and flutter. Sensing she didn't have long, two desperate words lept from the blinking light in her mask.

"Cerberus? No…"

Her consciousness then drifted away with her voice. It caused her arms to fold in, and her body collapsed the rest of the way to the floor with a definitive thud.

Hayden could only look on and try to process the atrocity he had just committed. The sight of her body lying there, quiet and unmoving—made it difficult. His throat burned like hell when he swallowed. He knelt next to her delicately, scanning her body with his Omni-tool.

Still breathing. Still alive.

But...not for long.

He didn't expect the weight of what he was doing to suddenly crush him. After all, he had been preparing for this mission for months, knowing full well what was to come of these quarians. Still, killing and harming innocents?

It was all for a good cause. That's what he had been telling himself. To help humanity prosper in the galactic community. To help human children sleep safely at night without fear of alien slavers or mercenaries. If a couple of aliens that were innocent had to die to achieve that, then it was all worth it...right?

Except one had a fate worse than death.

Hayden looked at Lia and tried to breathe easily. He couldn't.

Aching to get away, he raised his hand to his earpiece and phoned home. He was answered after a single buzz.

"Bravo-2. Were you successful?"

"I...I have Li—I have obtained...our—" Hayden paused, struggling to keep his voice steady. "—our target...The mission is...successful."

"Good work, Bravo-2. A retrieval team is imminent. Help clean the evidence and come on home."

Imminent?

A loud rumbling of tires rolling up from behind caused Hayden's head to whip around. One glance told him that it was one of the clean-up trucks from earlier. Fearing that he might have been made, Hayden readied his Carnifex pistol, though he was averse to the idea of having to make a bigger mess.

That was until he noticed that the truck workers were all entirely human, and none of them seemed to pay much mind to the armed man with a quarian body lying in front of him. With an overpowering sense of a sickening cool casualness, they simply dropped down from the sides of the truck and came close to the shuttle like it was just any other piece of debris.

Hayden's eyebrows furrowed. The fact that they were here so soon already had rubbed him the wrong way.

"You've been watching my entire operation, haven't you?!" He noted angrily.

"Not directly, and they were nothing more than backup in case you needed it. After your team leader's failure, we can't afford any more setbacks. Now clean up and oversee the package's transport, the scientists are getting antsy."

The callousness of the statement made Hayden want to vomit. Nevertheless, he simply grumbled his distaste and sighed.

"On it."

He wasn't given much time to think. One of the disguised workers had come closer, bending down to retrieve the unconscious quarian. Hayden waved them off, instead directing them to the cockpit.

He would take care of Lia, partly out of respect for her, and also because he still didn't want to see what he had done to Kenn. Hurriedly, he lifted and carried her to the truck, the other workers brushed past them to dismantle the evidence.

Lia's limbs bounced with each of his steps. She looked dead enough already, which just furthered Hayden's guilty conscience. Despite what had become of her, he still thought she looked peaceful.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, almost begging. Looking for some semblance of forgiveness, of understanding of why he was doing this.

Lia could give no such thing. She was a living corpse, and it was unlikely that would ever change.

Hayden wished that he could've said that today was going to be a good day.