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Heart of Armali Restaurant, Block 3650 (Skywards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Shepard Segment #3
[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]
[POV trails behind Decantus/Corporal JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD as she approaches a multi-story restaurant named the Heart of Armali. Its name and decor suggests a Thessian-oriented restaurant, and the roped queue hots many Asarikin waiting, a few other species as well who were more-than-likely dates or bondmates of said Asari. SHEPARD ignores the line that snakes to one side and heads right for the front door manned by a Turian male in a well-to-do professional robe colored black with a datapadd in one hand; obviously the doorman. The Turian sees SHEPARD coming as POV hangs back slightly several paces away as a few Asari squawk at the sight of a fully-armored C-SEC Officer approaching the door as if she owned the place]
TURIAN DOORMAN: Do you have a reservation, Seras?
CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: As a matter of fact, I do.
[SHEPARD's hand darts into the Turian's robe and pulls out a pistol from the inside before the Turian can stop her. She has it pointed at the Turian's abdomen]
JCS: Seems my friend Mister Carnifax here is on the list. [SHEPARD holds up the pistol, a Cipritine Armory M-6 Carnifax, and shakes it slightly for emphasis] And I'm sure he wants me go out in without any issues. I bet you do too unless you want me to remind you what happens to those who carry Cit-illegal firearms and those who carry concealed without the proper permits. My reservation? [SHEPARD's tone is faux-cheerful] Or shall I see about booking your reservation?
[Pause]
TDM: Welcome to the Heart of Armali, Officer.
JCS: Go ahead and let your boss know I'm coming up. I'm sure he's expecting me. [SHEPARD charges the Carnifax's slide back, reaches in, and extracts a small copper cylinder. She drops it to the ground and smashes it with a boot before letting the Carnifax slip to the ground as well. POV looks down and sees the crushed component is a heat sink] And don't forget to pick up your trash, Citizen. A littering fine seems so silly.
[SHEPARD breezes right by the DOORMAN. POV follows obediently through a pair of apparently wooden doors on a station with no wood]
JCS: Stick by my side, cookie dough. This place is a haven for real criminality.
[POV sees a high-scale restaurant complete with dozens of dining tables with silk table cloths, expensive chinaware supporting food in too-small portions with sauces drizzled on the side artfully. Each table is filled with diners of multiple species wearing expensive clothing, and complementing the expensive looking decor is an expansive chandelier hanging from the ceiling and an Asari Maiden playing a harpsita]
MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: [Whispers] I… thought you said this was a place of real criminality?
JCS: If you saw how much these dishes cost for several hundred grams worth of overpriced food, you'd want to arrest the chef, the owner, and the guy who thought all this opulence would make the prices digestible too. Pick up a menu and keep it as a memento. Technically they don't charge for it, so it isn't theft. 'Sides, if I dropped the whole surprise Food Health Inspector thingie on this place, I bet we find out the steak is really varren and pyjak hamburger heat-pressed to look like vantakar roast. Wouldn't surprise me, really.
[POV looks to the establishment's diners, who are now looking at SHEPARD and POV]
MPG: Is this the part where we act natural and walk right in?
JCS: This isn't a movie, cookie dough. [Beep] like that never works out.
[SHEPARD walks right through the center of the dining room as if she owns the place. POV follows right behind her, and there is audible murmuring from the patrons as Asari waitresses in silk gowns and trays holding orders of food back away slowly from the lane of travel]
JCS: Oh, if you start feeling sick to your stomach? That means someone is using their Biotic on you.
MPG: What do I do then?
JCS: Pray.
[SHEPARD is halfway through the restaurant, and POV sees a set of stairs that leads up to an upper terrace]
JCS: Ah, we have escorts.
[POV looks left then right to see two armed Turians on either side, dressed in professional-looking robes over… armor. There is nothing in their taloned hands yet]
JCS: Here to show me the office, boys? Or are we here to see what a dinner-refunder can do to someone with a stomach and a gizzard? It isn't pretty, let me tell you.
TURIAN: The boss would like to see you. [TURIAN looks to POV] Alone.
JCS: Why? He's a simple businessman according to his lawyer. He ought to have nothing to hide. Besides, this is a public restaurant, I'm a public servant, and he's a public citizen. You don't actually have the authority for someone who wishes to address the concerns of this restaurant to management. Unless… you have something to hide? Wouldn't look good at a Tribunal.
[Pause]
TURIAN: The boss will see the both of you.
JCS: After you. I insist.
[POV sees two of the Turians take the lead, SHEPARD going behind them. POV follows SHEPARD and takes a look behind to see the other two Turians following, Carnifax pistols in their taloned hands. The Turians lead SHEPARD and POV to the stairs that they were already heading towards. The first two take to the stairs with SHEPARD following diligently, POV leading two armed Turians]
JCS: Cookie dough, pull up your socks.
[POV dips down much closer to the stairs, looking ahead as SHEPARD grabs the Turian in front of her and bodily throws him backwards. The Turian flies over POV and crashes into something behind. POV shifts fast to see three Turians tumbling down the stairs, landing at the bottom in a heap. POV shift back fast to see SHEPARD cracking the head of the TURIAN into a wall before throwing him over the stairs' banister and to the ground some distance below. POV shifts from the three in a heap and the one laying on the ground. None are moving. POV looks to SHEPARD]
MPG: Holy [beep]! You just took out four armed Turians single-handedly! With your bare hands!
JCS: Bet you're glad you picked the cute redhead now.
MPG: So… what do we do now?
JCS: Next stop, boss level. Anonymous goons, pricey liquor, Asari concubines, and the big man himself. Drawers still dry, cookie dough?
[POV looks to the Turians still lying on the ground at the bottom of the stairs]
MPG: Think you can actually nail this guy?
JCS: Great thing about scumbags, they're always giving you second chances to nail them right and proper to a wall. Keep the mouth shut and the peepers open, and there's a pretty good chance we'll walk away from this breathing. [SHEPARD smiles] Get your big girl panties on nice and tight, cookie dough. You're about to meet a very important [beep]sucker.
Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175
"Ma'am? I have a fairly decent dossier on the sapient that runs the Heart of Armali restaurant."
Executive Producer Julia Davenport looked to the technician who was now handing her a datapadd copy of text pertaining to the being that Detanus Jane Shepard was about to go meet as she watched the redhead cop ascent the last portion of stairs to head to the upper balcony where the office laid, no doubt. This entire sequence was turning out to be pure Eezo, and the scene where a Human woman just obliterated four obvious Turian goons in a matter of seconds was straight-up Golden Globe material. She had practically whooped out in joy at the sight of Shepard turning the four Turian males into her personal bitches, and knew that would strike a chord with just about everyone everywhere. Humans would be cheering on the Human woman that just thrashed the shit out of some Turians that were quite obvious atypical henchmen. The Turians, civic-minded and duty-bound, wouldn't shed any tears over the defeat of four of their kin, and would see Shepard for what she was; a cop hellbent on setting things right, something right up their alley. Asari Maidens were probably swooning over the plot and the action, the hotblooded Maidens one of the biggest draws for action vids, romcoms, and crime dramas. Who knew what the others might think, but with the kind of demographics that they were getting updates on on a minute basis was showing that ratings, messages, subscriptions, and requests were spiking upwards hard. Even if Shepard lost her job today, this would likely be the most watched episode of the year for any show!
"Start typing. I want the basics and keep going marquee-style before that hothead reaches the office door." Julia told the technician as she looked to Paul Watkins, her assistant practically WonderGel'ed to his terminal. He was running the analysis not only for the shows ratings and how many messages throughout the various social media outlets throughout the ExtraNet, but also how many times the words 'LiveC-SEC', 'Shepard' and surprisingly 'dead redhead walking' was coming up on the ExtraNet.
There was even a betting pool going on through a various amount of bets, from the species and identity of the man in question, to how many thugs would be at the 'boss level', if it were going to be a shootout, and several different demographics on the amount of survivors going from 'zero' to 'two'.
God this cop was making them so much fucking money. If she could, Julia would be there now with a vid-corder visor on her face only so she could get an extra angle.
"They're approaching the door, ma'am." Another technician called out as Julia looked at the main monitor that displayed Mike Greene's POV. He was a rookie journalist at best, but his testicle size was in no doubt what-so-ever; this kid from Columbia University was following a vengeance-fueled cop into a highly-suspected shootout with a man that had ordered and/or paid for the murder of her Turian partner, Centurion Castis Adepdos. LiveC-SEC had been an idea pushed by Future Content Network as a way to monopolize on the tensions running in between the Turian Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance, hotter on the Citadel thanks to the heavily-mixed population there. The network had sold the idea to the Human Embassy on the Citadel as a way to ease the tensions on the Citadel and in Earth Alliance Space by showcasting Humans on the Citadel that were above-and-beyond the normal man; Citadel Security Service Officers. It was to be raw, edgy, and realistic; just the way Humans liked their violence. While it wouldn't necessarily ease the tensions, it would likely distract people from some of the worst of it and possibly be a little bit of a valve for the pot that threatened to boil over. Showing Human cops arresting criminals of a variety of species, showing them having to face the same discriminations but able to deal with it, having to work for a system that looked down at them but easing it back because there was another Human with a recording device that would transmit and broadcast it? It was an idea that had its risks… and its rewards.
And then Michael Patrick Greene had done what Julia Davenport hoped what some male reporter would do; he went straight for a cute female cop. Thankfully, there happened to be one, and a redhead, to boot.
There was no question about it; Decantus Jane Shepard was pure Eezo, and the numbers reflected.
"They're at the door." One technician called out.
"Ready to roll info marquee as soon as we see the boss." Julia already had an idea who it was, though it wasn't as obvious as some would suspect. She had found the name, made some guesses, and linked the name to three dozen shadier businesses that ranged a good deal more than just what a restaurant owner might be into. Oh, she didn't doubt Shepard was absolutely correct; the boss was rich as fuck, had been indicted and subpoenaed a dozen times but nothing ever sticked, and donated heavily to certain campaigns, parties, and interest groups that themselves had some shadier portions to them. The asshole-in-question was a legit asshole, and someone was about to knock on his door and give him his well-deserved just desserts.
And Julia was about to have the whole damn thing recorded and broadcasted live for potential billions to watch as they hanged off the edges of their seats.
Please survive this debacle, Shepard, and I will personally beg the Chairman to reinstate you if you lose your badge, Julia thought as she watched Shepard and Greene reach the balcony where a door awaited them.
It was about Goddamn time the public got to see a cop with some balls and gave criminals something to fear.
Office of the Human Embassy, Embassy District, Upper Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Ambassador Anita Goyle, like everyone else in her office, was watching holovision.
One of the office workers had plucked up the knowledge that something big was going down through one of the Human-Citadel social media boards, and had turned on the Future Content Network channel for the second segment when this Human cop by the name of Decantus/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard had illuminated everyone with a subscription to violence and intergalactic incidences that she was pretty much going to kick in a door and execute whatever miscreant had killed her partner. Anita had caught up with the previous segment where Shepard had pretty much been filmed without knowledge or consent, showing a bit of a foul-mouthed, slightly-racist Citadel Security Service Officer with too-hard eyes and a force of personality about a parsec wide. But when she had announced that she was going after her partners' killer, everything kind of exploded on the ExtraNet. The show had switched to a more prosaic portion with a Hasti/Officer Brian Jackson who patrolled the Mid-Ring of the Presidium having to deal with a too-preachy Hanar who glowed/complained about not being able to proselytize wherever he wanted about the Enkindlers while a little rolling marquee of information had a potential countdown of the best guesstimate of when the show would return to Shepard and whoever this 'cookie dough' person was.
When Shepard described what happened to her Turian partner, Anita knew… just knew that there was going to be a bloodbath and an intergalactic incident on her hands. And she found herself rather okay with it.
Before the holovision had gone onto the program LiveC-SEC, Anita had never heard of one Decantus/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard. And a part of her felt a little bad about that, seeing what was being touted as 'the only Human female cop on the Citadel' (which according to the Future Content Network's Netsite as well as the scrolling marquee info bar connected to the show, she was). Oh, Anita didn't doubt that when whomever came up with the idea of having an interactive reality cop show, that some woman Officer would end up being broadcasted; equal opportunity would be there, and for some reason Humanity just loved getting behind an underdog and the sight of a woman in a 'man's world' and making it work was right at the very top. Goyle guess she should have been happy to see that this Corporal Shepard was apparently a tough-as-nails C-SEC Officer that was certainly in the realm of cute/good-looking and wasn't supporting a double-wide ass and whining about how women were men's equals while complaining about doing the heavy lifting at the same time. There was no real feminist message being touted out that somehow always managed to come up, and the poor idiot with the camera (likely a recording visor of some kind that had been a recent innovation in the past year) wasn't much of a real reporter; most every question had been pertaining to the 'what are we doing now?' variety. Yet in the grand total of an hour that what was being called the 'Shepard Segment', the show had probably gone from 'a typical cop show' to 'work just stopped galaxy-wide'.
And Shepard herself? The modern-day Dirty Harry, evidently.
"Madame Ambassador? The Volus Ambassador is on the line." One of her interns informed her, and Anita gave the young woman a brush-off gesture. First, she despised Ambassador Din Korlak. Second, as soon as Anita saw exactly where Shepard was heading, in her heart she knew what was about to happen. Goyle knew of the Heart of Armali restaurant… and knew its proprietor and owner as well. Actually, he owned a lot more than a restaurant, and was fairly well-known in the upper social circles of the Citadel (meaning the rich and powerful). Heart of Armali had been all the rage a year or two back when the Consort Sha'ira T'vessa had visited the location and called the food 'divine', prompting just about every Asari on the station to go visit it. Yet the owner… Anita knew him. Had met him. He was in galas and political-sponsored parties in the Cit, one of those background characters that it was always a good idea to have a word or two with in case come campaing contributions were needed or a favor was required. That he wasn't completely legitimate was of no surprise to Anita Goyle; at this level, nobody was.
But Shepard had said that she had been investigating a Sand trafficking operation that had gotten her shot and her partner killed.
Anita wondered… realizing that it was a distinct possibility.
The owner of the Heart of Armali was quite wealthy; a low billionaire in a station where trillionaires graced the Presidium. He owned a restaurant, but that was hardly the biggest chit in his Credit pool. He ran a transportation service, owned mineral claims on at least half-a-dozen worlds that Anita knew of, had stock and investments in energy corporations, had some sort of refinery somewhere in Illium Space, owned a garage in Noveria…
Minerals, transportation, refinery outside of Council Space, possible warehouse outside of Council Space…
Shepard had said that she and her partner had been tracking a Sand operation… and Red Sand was laced with Elemental Zero.
Red Sand was a recent drug that had cropped up some time in the past ten years, since her tenure as the Human Ambassador. Anita had no idea who thought it was a good idea to put Eezo into a drug, but considering that most narcotics were made with a variety of ingredients that were poisonous to sapients, she guessed it was only a matter of time when 'blue gold' came up as a possibility. Extremely addictive, Red Sand to the normal sapient turned a person into a hyperactive jackass with little inhibitions and a propensity towards aggressive behavior and confrontation, usually heading towards violence. A hyperstimulant, it was introduced into a sapients' biochemistry through the eyes, a drop of liquid that was usually squeezed from a dropper or sprayed with a mist right into the optical cortex for delivery into the bloodstream and bypassing the blood-brain barrier. A Red Sand user (the common term was a 'Sander') was generally pretty noticeable even to the common sapient due to the visual cues that were obvious; someone actively looked as if they were bleeding bloody tears out of their eyes, their corneas so bloodshot that their eyes almost looked red from a short distance away. Someone that used the drug for a short period of time or longer would get permanent bloodshot eyes, the lids red-rimmed and swollen, and the flesh underneath the optical cortex stained slightly crimson, as if they had recently wept profusely.
That was a normal person.
Then there were the Biotics.
Someone a few centuries back (likely an Asari) figured out that ingesting refined Eezo 'supercharged' a sapients' latent Biotic potential and abilities. Considering that Biokinetics had Eezo Nodes laced through their lymphatic system, introducing more Eezo into the system certainly made sense in a chemical fashion. While 'Biotic supplements' did contain micrograms of 'blue gold', it was highly regulated, very expensive, and only contained a very small percentage based on weight for the supplement. It was meant to 'enhance' a Biotic's ability, but no one needed some Asari or Cabalist walking around professing that they were a Biotic God or some such drivel, so the drug was only produced in small quantities and highly controlled by the various governments of the galaxy. Something like only ten-thousand a year were made, and distribution was handled by a company that made sure its employees were paid well enough that trying to have some 'fall off the transporter' or smuggled was extremely unlikely. The fact that Asari Justicars were generally the ones that guarded the Biotic supplements also dissuaded any possible graft attempts or theft attempts. Those pills were only available to certain persons of certain professions, certainly not the public, and very expensive per dose.
Then someone went and made Red Sand.
The Biotic supplement was an ingestible pill; one swallowed it, the stomach (or its equivalent depending on the species) broke it down and the body naturally took the drug through the natural digestive process, meaning that it took a few minutes to work, and it would be somewhat diluted due to time and the fact that the drug would have to go through a few chemical processes before reaching the blood stream… and then the brain. But Red Sand bypassed all of that by being droppered or sprayed into the eyes, being delivered to the brain in seconds in a much more concentrated form, and without regulations to microsize the dose. As Anita understood it, Biotic supplement pills contained a microgram of Eezo. Red Sand could contain as much as the producer wanted it to contain, and like with most narcotics, the more the merrier. While the Ambassador didn't know the street price of Red Sand, she knew it to be cheaper than the Biotic supplement pill… but still pretty pricey.
Red Sand had come to light about eight-to-ten years ago when the Thessian Professional BiotiBall Team, the Serrice Shores, had all popped hot for Eezo supplementation after their so-called 'miracle season' where they had pretty much stomped the shit out of everyone in every game they played to achieve a never-been-recorded-before perfect seasons. Of course t he swollen lids, red tears, and bloodshot eyes on the Maiden BiotiBall players by the end of the season had clued the Professional BiotiBall League that something was wrong, and the Championship had been canceled when not only all of the members of the Serrice Shores had tested positive for illegal Biotic supplementation, but also their rivals as well who had discovered the Shores' little miracle and had just started buying up Red Sand a week or two prior to the scandalous revelation. The largest match in the galaxy had been canned due to Red Sand, and the galactic public became fully aware of the brand-new drug. So did drug-users.
Red Sand was a very popular drug, as Anita understood it.
"Madame Ambassador, Ambassador Korlak is calling again." The intern told her once more, pouting.
"What the fuck does he expect me to do? I'm not C-SEC, nor do I have a magic button that controls every Human Being in existence." Anita snapped at the college-aged girl with the full pouty lips and lack of a credible spine. Oh, she knew why Din was probably in a frothy rage inside of his pressure suit, no doubt watching the same program she was watching. As soon as the Heart of Armali showed up on the screen, Goyle kind of figured she been getting a call from a certain Ambassador who was now hitting the panic button as fast, as hard, and as much as possible.
[hwurk], I'm so screwed, [hwurk], Anita thought nastily as she mentally imitated a Voline's normal speech pattern while encased in their pressure suits as the Human Ambassador watched the program, silently crossing her fingers.
Shepard, please do me a favor and be right, Goyle thought as the door to the 'boss level' appeared right in front of the C-SEC Officer. And then throw out that 'do you feel lucky, punk?' line before blowing that little shit's head off.
Lord knows I've thought about doing it a time or two myself before finding out he's into trafficking Sand.
Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Now the calls were coming in.
Prelate Britus Syltius was the Prelate-in-charge of the Orlop/Lower Wards of the Outer Tract Section of the Zakera Arm. There were five levels to each of the Arms of the Citadel, known as 'Wards'. They were, ascending to descending, the Skywards, Upper Wards, Mid-Wards, Lower Wards, and the Orlop Wards, generally called 'the Scows'. To each Arm there were nine five-kilometer long portions known as 'Sections'. They were, going from the Presidium to the very end of the Citadel, Ringside, Inner Tract, CoreWard, Frost Line, Mid-Arm, Outer Band, RimWard, Outer Tract, and The Enders. He was basically in charge of a twenty-five square kilometer area that was pretty much at the very bottom and the furthest end of the most crime-laden Arm of the Citadel.
What was going on in the Skywards was outside of his jurisdiction. Oh, he could intervene, but he wouldn't.
"Can't believe Shepard took out four males like that."
Syltius looked to his Primus Centurion, Varxsius Caldonis, who watched the holovision monitor just like everyone else in the OLOT(Zakera) Precinct, watching Decantus Jane Shepard approaching the door of the man that had (no doubt in his mind) killed Centurion Castis Adepdos when the pair were running a Sand sting looking not for buyers, sellers, and users, but the big leagues; transporters, financiers, storage, and those who somehow smuggled it in through Customs. It had been a four-month operation that had been called Operation: Sandstorm that involved the six Officers that Syltius knew were both ground level and not accepting graft. Law enforcement corruption was, sadly, a very real thing especially down in the belly of the Citadel so far from the Rings, where the gangs and syndicates could easily bribe an Officer to look the other way. The Red Sand business had a great deal of Credits to play with, and about half of any operation meant to tackle the issue stalled out due to corruption, lawyers, bureaucrats, or social media crying about Officers being to hard on the trash and filth that made civilization rot and decay. Disgusting, really.
So Britus had gotten six Officers that he knew bore no love for narcotics, made a silent operation that would undoubtedly have a s'kakstorm come down upon his fringe because he didn't get approval through the C-SEC Academy (where he suspected more than a few Officers of that location aiding and abetting some of those failed investigations while on the take), and let them off the hook to do their damn jobs. If they could make a dent in the operations, Britus would easily take the repercussions for himself knowing that somewhere out in the black some sireless vracking whore was crying about loss profits. Billions of Credits were involved in the Red Sand trade alone, and Syltius was tired of his Officers having to respond to Sander-related violence calls or picking up the pieces of a broken family when one overdosed and died gurgling on their own tongue and mucus.
It was sickening to know that the public cried that something should be done to stop such things while handcuffing the very efforts in order to do so.
"She's a corridor cop, not some chair-riding prax who gripes about physical training standards and firearm proficiency qualifications." The Prelate snorted to his most senior subordinate, nodding his fringed head sagely. He had already known that Jane Shepard was the last remaining Human female C-SEC Officer in the entirety of the Citadel, the dozen or so others that had gone through the Academy's Training Program having quit before they had done a year with one other exception of one having taken maternity retirement since that female had a hatchling without a bondmate (Husband? Was that the term?). As far as Britus was aware, there wasn't another Human female in the ATP's four-month course, either, making Jane Shepard literally the only one wearing Citadel Blues; Officer or Trainee. That had a certain level of respect in his mind, and it was Prelate Syltius that had delivered that tidbit to Shepard some nine months prior. Jane hadn't really cared, calling the others 'weak-sauce' (Humans and their strange vernacular!) and moved along with her duties. Centurion Adepdos had been willing to take a Human partner, a Turian willing to give it a shot with a species that they had warred with not too long ago. Syltius was a stubborn Serah and only saw two species in the galaxy; law-abiders, and lawbreakers. He really didn't give a s'kak if a Quarian showed up wishing to join C-SEC as long as they did their job right. He wasn't fond of 'weak-sauce' either.
Jane had proved her mettle a thousand times over in the past three years since taking the Badge, a Civil Patrol Officer in one of the most crime-infested areas of the Citadel where survival wasn't always assured and the crime index statistics showed that his Precinct of a million had something like fourteen-hundred and nine minor crimes and eight hundred and sixty-four major crimes a month. Spirits alone knew if that statistic was accurate or not. Two-thousand, two hundred and seventy-three crimes a month in a population of a million didn't sound like a lot, but when one barely cleared five percent for response? It was hearts-breaking.
Still, watching Shepard handing four barefaced klepnaks their clocheas back to them in such a quick and totalitarian manner like that had Syltius quite should have the scum defecating themselves like hatchlings with gizzard problems at the sight of a real Officer of the Law.
Of the six Officers he had put on Operation: Sandstorm, only one of them was still breathing. And she was about to wreck havoc in a disastrous level.
As Decantus Jane Shepard's Prelate, Britus Syltius was more than intimate with the shooting investigation that landed Shepard in Spirit of Valluvius Hospital and Adepdos in the Fatality Ward. The loss of one Officer and the potential loss of another (Jane had been shot twice and had been listed at critical-and-unstable condition when arriving at the Emergency Care Room) had Prlate Syltius land on the investigation, personally leading it himself since Castis had died shot in the back seven times from a Cit-illegal weapon. Within two days, he had gotten all the evidence, leads, interviews, reports, follow-ups, and confessions, supplementing all that Adepdos and Shepard had gleaned, having done most of the stepwork themselves and Syltius merely putting in the final touches that would have the sapient that hired the murderer fry in the heart of a Class A Stellar Supergiant Star or crushed in a Supermassive Black Hole. He had handed the case right to the Citadel's Department of Judicial Prosecution himself, making sure those plateless curs understood that the case involved one expired Officer, and one that was still in critical-but-stable condition. At the very least, Britus would make sure that vracking barefaced worthless cur burned for killing a good male and putting a good female in the hospital, unknown if she would ever be able to serve her post again due to her wounds.
He should have known that she would get involved, though.
Defense Councilor Jynessa T'mala was the bane of law enforcement endeavors. An extremely high-priced Legal Councilor, the Matron made her living taking high-publicity cases to exonerate pieces of filth by dramatizing how such 'model citizens' were being harassed by law enforcement while committing crimes. She had been the go-to Defense Councilor for at least the past century, and every time she took a case, Citadel Security was inevitably to take a cracked eyeplate as well as dolling out restitution fees to some lawbreaker who had their acts exonerated with a wide variety of technicalities and legal doggerel, meaning that some cur would have every bit of evidence tossed out of court (because sadly the Matron was that good) and any chance of getting the rich scum to pay for their crimes would have to start fresh without any mention of the previously-mentioned crime.
That was exactly what happened with Centurion Adepdos and Decantus Shepard.
Slytius hadn't been subtle with his case when he took it to the Department of Judicial Prosecution; anything that he could prove in the case from Red Sand to the hit on his Officers had been included so the sireless cur could rot in an IsoCube for the rest of his days or spend a nice lifetime vacation one one of three Supermax Prison Facilities on planetary hellholes known for their vast difficulties in escaping. But when Councilor T'mala had taken the case, her first motion in front of the Judicial Tribune had been the denial of the use of her clients' name in court, and then the denial of any kind of media coverage. Then she had shockingly used some sort of legal technicality that was generally used for business deals to get all the evidence that Castis and Jane had collected and Britus had re-verified and delivered, including the assassination and assassination attempt, thrown out of court. It had been so sickening to see the entire case not only thrown out of court, but to have that vracking blue whore call his Officers incompetent while filing for motions to have Decantus Jane Shepard removed from duty permanently. Britus had his hearts broken knowing he had failed the both of them completely, that scum never even needing to show up to court so he could continue to sell his poison and get fat and rich off of the customers he destroyed with Sand. The sapient behind the door that Jane was about to enter was about to get what was coming to him, and what was there to stop her? Him?
Stop her? Vrack no. If he could, Britus would love to stand there and watch. As it was, he still got pretty good seats to the show, so to speak.
Author's Notes: Probably should have mentioned that the style of writing from the POV/Mike Greene is mostly done in the way of screenplays for a movie/TV show, but in this case it is describing the actual action, which is why there are no quotation marks or real explanations on things like I normally do. It is basically written as if you were watching a television show. It's not an elegant form of writing, but it comes off raw and unedited; which is the point.
I called Mike Greene Serah in he previous chapter, and is the Turian word for 'sir'. Jane Shepard got Seras for the female version, ma'am. I stole the first time from BioWare's DragonAge forever ago but I don't think I've ever officially explained it.
Shepard mentions using a 'dinner-refunder' on a Turian. This comes from Where The Law Stands Tall, a PacRod (Pacification Rod) known as the Biological Regurgitation Device. It induces vomiting as a non-lethal attack.
In Canon, Red Sand was created/invented on Mars with the use of Eezo… which is against Canon. The very little Eezo that Earth Space had came from ancient Prothean ships (so ship-grade Eezo). But the galaxy's most valuable mineral was also used for snorting or some such other nonsense. The name of these chapters, 'Sandstorm', comes from A Fox Amongst The Wolves and the idea that I had that would go into the Red Sand trade. Making it an eyedropper-induced drug is of my own creation.
And I did invent a Biotic Performance-Enhancing Drug. Makes sense, actually.
I did possibly tease what the bad guy might be (I wanted to be subtle, but I might have flubbed it). But I went and dregged up a canon character to make up 'a boss'. You can spraypaint as many OC's as you like, but people want to see villains go down, and the more established the better. Why so serious?
Like I did with Where The Law Stands Tall, I bring up some cop politics and point-of-views. Some are my own, others are not. But then I introduced the views of others as things are going down. Because that does happen.
I use the term sire and dam for the Turians. Sire is the Canon term for 'father' for the Turians, and is Middle-English in origins, borrowing from the Latin word Senior. So for mothers, I went with the Middle-English term, Dam, which becomes 'dame' or 'lady'.