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Boss Level, Heart of Armali Restaurant, Block 3650 (Skywards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Shepard Segment #4
NARRATOR: DUE TO THE GRAPHICAL NATURE OF THIS CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]
[POV trails behind Decantus/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard as she reaches the top of the flight of stairs, where a door blocks access to the upper balcony. The automated access device to the left of the door is currently showing a red icon, indicating that it is locked. SHEPARD presses the holographic image, but the icon stays red]
MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: Panic room?
CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: Being in a panic and being in a room does not a panic room make, young Padawan. Watch and learn the magical mysteries of opening locked doors while C-SEC, my young apprentice.
[SHEPARD lifts up her left arm, which is now wreathed in a blue holographic skin. She places her palm on the interface, a circular blue ring surrounding her hand as four holographic switches appear just above her fingers. Each of the four blink quickly in a random pattern, equaling about fourteen or so 'blinks'. SHEPARD then uses her fingers to input the same pattern, turning the icon blue]
JCS: Viola! Emergency override code for First Responders and Emergency Personnel. [SHEPARD looks to POV] Able to unlock most any door on the Cit that way, but only so long as you have a Cit-assigned OmniTool and don't mind your DNA and pic being taken by AVINA.
[SHEPARD draws her pistol out, auto-configuring into activation mode, sliding the action back slightly to inspect it, and then clicks it forward before reholstering it on her right hip after it collapses back to carrying mode]
MPG: Please tell me that's a really awesome pistol.
JCS: It's a Smith and Wesson Model 44 Magnum-Weight Duty Pistol. Fires a ten gram slug.
[POV looks at SHEPARD for a moment before SHEPARD sighs]
JCS: It's the most powerful handgun allowed in C-SEC.
MPG: Great. I'm traveling with Dirty Harry-ette.
JCS: Who? [POV just shakes left and right] Nevermind. Get your game face on, cookie dough. I'm about to pop your cherry.
[SHEPARD toggles the door access to have the door slide open as she strides inside, POV following dutifully behind her]
[POV stands to one side as SHEPARD walks into the middle of a fair-sized room occupied with seven other sapients. POV does a quick scan of the room seeing four standing Turians in professional-looking robes over armor and stubby-looking two-handed firearms that look like submachine guns or carbine assault rifles, two standing Asari dressed in Thessian-oriented clothing that leaves very little to the imagination, one armed with a bottle of liquor for pouring, and the other with a tray containing hor d'oeuvre appetizers, and the figure that sits at the only desk in the room; the boss]
[SCROLLING MARQUEE: PITNE FOR, FOR-CLAN, IRUNE]
JCS: Pitne! Been a few weeks. Happy to see me?
PITNE FOR: [hwurk] Decantus Shepard, [hwurk] an unexpected surprise, [hwurk], to be sure.
JCS: Still as full of [beep] as ever, For-Clan. How's business? Heard you took a pretty good hit to the profits last month hiring the blue whore to keep your little gasbag [beep] out of prison. Did you get a free lapdance out of the deal? The way she can tapdance in a Tribunal, I bet she's no slouch on a stage with a brass pole. Hope she was worth every Credit, Pitne.
PF: Baseless accusations, [hwurk] will get you nowhere, [hwurk] Earth-Clan. I am, [hwurk] a simple businessman, [hwurk] who is still being accosted [hwurk] by aggressive members of [hwurk] Citadel Security Services.
JCS: Cry me a [beep]ing river, 'simple businessman'. No Goddamn wobble is a simple businessman. Does a simple businessman get invited to political parties, charity events, benefit balls, and Citadel Commerce meetings? I mean, let's tally the investments, shall we? [SHEPARD turns towards POV] Besides this fine-dining establishment, there's the mineral claims at at least half-a-dozen sites throughout the galaxy, the transportation company that runs goods in and out of Illium Space as well as Noveria Space, a minor shareholder in a few energy companies, and your hard-earned Credits earning a good annual percentage at the very respectable Galactic Financial Credit Union; the galaxy's largest financial institution. [SHEPARD turns to PITNE FOR] Pretty good for a simple businessman, Pitne. Perhaps you should do those motivational speaker gigs people pay thousands on the hopes of a 'get-rich-quick' scheme. Make more money off of people. You're good at that, after all.
PF: We all have, [hwurk] our special talents, [hwurk], Shepard-Clan. Yours, [hwurk] is sticking your snout, [hwurk] where it doesn't belong. [hwurk] You have overstayed your welcome, [hwurk] and I believe [hwurk] you know where the door is.
JCS: Y'know, funny you mention sticking noses where they don't belong, pint-sized. [SHEPARD saunters to one side of the room under the gaze of four Turians, two Asari, a Volus, and POV, heading towards a fully-stocked bar alongside one wall] It's nice to know that your high-priced whore got you off without you so much as seeing the inside of a courtroom much less serving a day in jail. [SHEPARD picks up a crystal decanter of an amber liquid, uncorks it, sniffs it, wrinkles her nose and puts it back] How much did that set you back, by the way? Getting her to get all the evidence of the investigation and shooting tossed and destroyed? I guess I should be happy you didn't get away Scot-free.
PF: There is, [hwurk] a legal injunction, [hwurk] against mentioning of such, [hwurk] falsified evidence, [hwurk] Shepard-Clan. This, [hwurk] will cost you your badge.
JCS: Got you smiling in that suit of yours, wobbly? [SHEPARD picks up another bottle and test-sniffs it] That's Armali Rosewine. [SHEPARD looks to POV] Probably older than all of us put together. [SHEPARD stoppers the bottle and sets it on the shelf but not quite completely, and the bottle tips and falls to the ground, shattering] Whoops. I guess your next shipment can cover that one, simple businessman. Never met anyone who could afford a hundred thousand Credit bottle of four century-old Asari booze. But where was I before? Ah, yes, the sticking of noses where they don't belong. I guess I should thank you that the evidence got completely and utterly tossed out of the Tribunal and force-destroyed by Citadel authorities, Pitne. If I had any left, I would be forced to build up another case to use it against you. But now? Now without any physical evidence to make me follow the rules, all I have is what's up here. [SHEPARD points to her own head] You should have gone for the head, Pitne. Hope the hitman didn't charge too much for a botched job halfway done.
PF: Need I remind you, [hwurk] that you are outnumbered?
JCS: With… them? [SHEPARD laughs as moves from the liquor cabinet to the desk, sitting on its surface right in the front and middle] These boot-camp rejects? I'm honestly kind of shocked they know which end of those KAL-25's the rounds come out of. I mean, pretty stupid using Hierarchy Reservist Civilian Carbine Rifles as a show-of-force. Practically popguns. Hope the goons aren't cutting too much into the profit margin, Pitne. Cheap thugs tend to run at the first sign of losing.
PF: You have nothing on me, [hwurk] Shepard-Clan.
JCS: Not on the Citadel, I don't. But for someone who's interested in business transactions in other locations in the galaxy, one might be interested in the unauthorized visits of one of your vessels going back and forth from Illium and other portions throughout the Traverse and Terminus.
PF: Supposition.
JCS: Of course it is! Be a shame if someone traced that half-cooked shady vessel registration that isn't at all connected with with your transo company, the ITV Stortar Sharvan. I'm sure that [beep] little bad hack-job passes with flying colors with the highly bribeable Nos Astra Corporate Police Department on Illium, but some people have a good deal more money than what you can afford to graft, Pitne.
[Pause]
JCS: People like the Sapphire Queen, Pitne.
PF: You have nothing, [hwurk] Decantus.
JCS: I don't, that's true. Which means if I blurb, there's no investigation I can taint. Like for instance, [SHEPARD reaches over to the hor d'oeuvre tray, plucks an appetizer, and pops it into her mouth] the little smugglers' cove you had drilled under the Domes' eighth dock, where you had a ventilation shaft installed to chute stolen Eezo right out from under the Sapphire Queen's nose without you having to announce it, declare it, pay the tariffs, or the taxes. Pretty ballsy, Pitne, [beep]ing over the Sapphire Queen. [SHEPARD makes a clicking noise with her tongue] And all of your money, stock, deeds, and company paperwork held and protected by Galactic Financial, too. You do realize that she's the CEO, majority stockholder, and Chairman of the Board of Directors all rolled in one, right? Pretty [beep]ing stupid screwing over the most powerful sapient being in the galaxy, simple businessman.
[SHEPARD looks to one of the Turians]
JCS: Wouldn't be surprised if you boys get a call here in a few minutes with some monetary incentive involving a nice escort gig to a vessel heading to Omega. Play the cards right, and you come out rich instead of dead.
PF: Aria will never find out, [hwurk] Shepard-Clan.
JCS: Really?
[SHEPARD turns to POV]
JCS: Meet my producer.
[POV sees one Turian touching something on the side of his fringed head, as if listening to something for a moment. The Turian then looks to POV and nods]
MPG: Mister Pitne For? Mike Green with Future Content Network.
PF: [hwurk] What?
MPG: Just who is this Sapphire Queen, Mister For? I've never heard of her, and I'm sure the audience would like to know.
[Another Turian is touching the side of his head]
PF: [hwurk] Audience?
JCS: Of course! You just so happening to be the star of the new interactive reality police crime drama series, LiveC-SEC, Pitne. And we've been broadcasting live for a bit now.
[A third Turian is touching the side of his head. PITNE FOR is facing the wrong way from the Turians and can't see it]
JCS: What was your favorite part, Mike? The part where he admitted galactically to [beep]ing over Aria T'loak, the Sapphire Queen of the Terminus and Omega? The richest, most powerful singular individual in the galaxy? I was almost hoping he would twirl those little cloth danglers beside his masks' snout like a mustache when he said 'hwurk Aria doesn't know [beep], hwurk'. The next question should be 'what do you think Aria, ruler of non-Council Spaces, is going to do to him'?
[The last Turian is touching the side of his head. POV moves towards the desk]
MPG: Mister For, what is your response when you discover your hired help was just outsourced? [SHEPARD laughs]
PF: [hwurk] What?
[Two taloned hands land on the shoulders of PITNE FOR. The Volus looks up and over to see two Turians looming over him. There is no pity in their plated faces]
TURIAN: Her Majesty has requested your presence in a meeting, Serah For.
[PITNE FOR looks right at SHEPARD still sitting on top of his desk]
PF: Please, Shepard-Clan, [hwurk], do something. I'll [hwurk] make it worth [hwurk] your involvement.
JCS: Hmm, let me think about it.
[SHEPARD helps herself to another hor d'oeuvre]
JCS: Crap! I totally forgot about that legal injunction! I can't associate with you! Might cost me my badge! Must have slipped my mind, silly of me.
[SHEPARD shrugs]
JCS: 'Fraid I can't help you, Pitne. I just got off a month-long suspension without pay, and I don't think I want to risk my career at this point in time.
[SHEPARD takes another hor d'oeuvre]
JCS: Enjoy your meeting, For-Clan. I'm sure Her Majesty will be quite interested in all the things you'll have to say. You're probably going to be praying for prison compared to what the Sapphire Queen has planned for you.
[SHEPARD slides off the desk]
JCS: Goodbye, Pitne. Have fun being tortured for the next five years or so. The Asari are nothing but patient, and Her Majesty probably has the best medical care available to keep you alive for quite a long time. Examples are set for a reason, after all.
[SHEPARD turns to POV, nods, and makes for the door at a walking pace]
PF: [hwurk] Shepard-Clan?
JCS: Just walk without looking back, cookie dough. So much cooler that way.
[POV turns when SHEPARD passes by, following]
PF: [hwurk] Shepard-Clan!
[SHEPARD and POV reaches door as it opens, and POV exits right after SHEPARD, never looking back]
PF: [hwurk] SHEPAR-
[The door closes, cutting off the voxed voice]
Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175
Executive Producer Julia Davenport stood in the middle of her control room, absolutely and completely unable to believe what she had just seen. She had expected some sort of action vid shootout bullshit. She had expected to see this revenge trip end in bloodshed. Instead… instead…
Did that just fucking happen on holovision?, she thought to herself with a little shiver.
Still… the ratings were proving it.
Best… show… ever!
Office of the Human Embassy, Embassy District, Upper Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
"Holy shit." Ambassador Anita Goyle breathed out, amazed by what she had just saw. She had fully expected everyone in that room to be dead or dying within the first minute. She had expected an intergalactic incident with a publicity smear a parsec wide. Instead…
A fucking beat cop just called for the wrath of the Dark Queen Herself… and had gotten it approved. On holovision.
The Human Ambassador slumped back in her chair, a little terrified of what had just happened. A prayer had been sent, and a very dark God had answered just like that.
She really hoped that lunatic cop knew what she was doing and the kind of forces she was flirting with.
Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Prelate Britus Syltius stood there, stunned. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. Primus Centurion Varxsius Caldonis just stood there slack-mandabled, the both of them looking at each other with widened eyes at what had just occurred. Britus thought he was going to have to bury another one of his own. Instead…
"Spirits, I bet Pitne's wishing Jane had just gone up and put a bullet in his fringe." Britus said out loud. Varxsius could only silently nod at what had just occurred.
Neither one of them needed to mention why.
C-SEC Skycruiser, Public Transportation Airlane, Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Shepard Segment #5
[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]
[POV show the interior of the Citadel Security Services Skycruiser from before, flying in a Public Transportation Airlane along with rentable X3M Contragraviy Skycars and personally-owned-vehicles. DECANTUS/CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD is at the pilot's seat, but the Skycruiser is set at automated. SHEPARD is looking out the pilot's side window as if in a trance]
MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: Can… can I ask a couple of questions, Corporal?
CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: [Still staring out of window] Sure.
MPG: What… just happened back there… was that what I think it was?
[SHEPARD turns to POV]
JCS: What do you think it was, cookie dough?
MPG: A hit?
[SHEPARD turns to window]
JCS: No, that wasn't a hit.
[Pause]
JCS: Me and Castis had been a part of a sting known as Operation: Sandstorm. We were cracking down hard on the Sand trade with Officers we knew not to be on the take somehow, and we were selected by our Prelate because we believe in our jobs and what we do.
[SHEPARD looks to POV]
JCS: There were six of us, and I'm the only one left alive after four months. Each of us had a piece of the puzzle, and when it was just my partner and I left alive, we swore that we would see it through, that we would pin that little [beep]ing gasbag for the brothers that we lost. Without them, we wouldn't have gotten as far. That bit about Omega came from Officer Tardan Mels, a Salarian C-SEC Officer who served about as long as I did. He was killed in the line of duty about two and a half months back in what looked to be a gang-related shooting that he hadn't responded to but ended up with both him and his partner Meelo Kavra dead three sub-blocks away from the shooting incident.
[SHEPARD looks back to window]
JCS: How many [beep]ing lives did that [beep]sucker ruin? How much money is involved in the narcotics trade; buying, selling, transporting, arrests, court dates, lawyer fees, treatment, emergency care room visits for overdoses, funerals, holes in families? No one does a [beep]ing thing but cops, but they handcuff us because people are afraid of us somehow while drug dealers carry illegal guns and sell poison to their children. Every time we make headway, some honcho like Pitne For pulls out the big guns with lawyers and whatnot, acting all so innocent while destroying civility and culture with [beep] like Sand or Grease.
MPG: Don't we make tougher laws?
JCS: Words on a piece of paper don't make solutions, just like they don't win wars.
[SHEPARD looks to POV]
JCS: It's soldiers and good men who man the trenches and the corridors where the wicked try to ply their trade, not some lawmaker living in some fancy domicile in a gated community out in the rich-[beep] sections of the 'sidium. Men like Castis, Tardan, Meelo, Tarquin, and Jorvel who walk the dangerous corridors of the Lower Wards and Scows where people treat us like [beep] because we protect people from themselves, because somehow we're the [beep]ing [beep]holes when people commit crime and we're the only thing that keep them in line. They fear the badge, the cage, the gun, the prosecution. So they cry to our oh so vaulted elected leaders how we're too tough, like walking down a sub-block and seeing domicileless sapients living in droves in the Scows, existing in the trash and squalors is something I like seeing every day. We'd rather listen to some social media whiner on how we're not doing our jobs properly because we don't let people do whatever the [beep] they want. They insult us, they demean us, they strip away the ability to do our jobs, and they call us heavy-handed and failures at our duties. Yet those same [beep]suckers will be the first to cry for us whenever their precious little lives get violated, sobbing why C-SEC didn't magically [beep]ing teleport in at that very moment. Cut our budgets, make a maze of bureaucratic laws to get warrants, debunk every expert we pull out to prosecute crime and criminals, come up with strange and inventive ways to wiggle out of the consequences of your actions while telling the galaxy we're just a mean bunch of spikes, noodles, lizards, and monkeys.
[SHEPARD looks to window]
JCS: Civilization exists because we exist. Not architecture, not art, not music, not politics. The law and those who stand for it and defend it.
[Awkward silence]
JCS: If you think I'm sorry what I did to Pitne For, let me put it into perspective. That [beep]ing piece of [beep] is likely responsible for more sapient deaths than any mass murderer or serial killer you can think of thanks to the Sand trade. But because it doesn't come from the end of a gun or leaves a big bloody mess, no one gives a flying [beep]. [SHEPARD looks to POV] Ever held a day-old newborn hatchling in your hands? One that's been abandoned in the trash with a drug addiction, hungry and naked?
MPG: …No. I've never seen a dead person before.
JCS: Stick with me, and you'll see a gunshot victim before the day is over. You'll hear the cry of a widow, the last gurgles of a sapients' breath as they die, the senseless violence of the poor taking it out on each other, blaming others for consequences of themselves and a society that completely and utterly doesn't give a [beep] about them. I don't patrol the Presidium where access is limited and guarded faithfully by electronic checkpoints and a small fleet of C-SEC Officers. I have lovely places named like the Mires, the Clog, and the Ream. You won't see malls and fancy department stores where I walk a patrol on the trash-strewn corridors of the Scows, where it's hard to tell if someone is just sleeping in the trash or if they finally got lucky and passed away. You'll get the hate and the rage of a lost and dejected populous that will hate you one sight for all that you represent, the enemy to all. You'll see the gangs that like to toe the line with insults and pretend throw-downs that will immediately cry enforcement brutality if you even breath in their damn direction.
[Awkward silence]
JCS: Want to hear something truly and utterly [beep]ed up?
MPG: Not particularly, but I have a feeling you need to say it.
JCS: Castis… Castis was shot seven times. Two of them were meant for me but that brave Spirit managed to take all three rounds and still managed to save me when he already had four in his back, one to finish him off and another two for me. It wasn't even a decision-making process for him, he just…
[SHEPARD looks away, and a sniffle is audible]
JCS: He has two kids and a wife. He should have been the one to survive, not me. We're lying on the damn corridor bleeding when that piece of [beep] gunman came to finish the job and Castis crawled over me and took those rounds after getting shot again, rolling us both into a service vent to save my life.
[SHEPARD looks back to POV]
JCS: I pulled him out of that vent as he was bleeding in my arms. I've got a collapsed lung and feels like a giant is sitting right on my chest, crushing my breath while the other round chipped my spine and I can barely use my legs. Cas is… he's bleeding to death in my arms praying for his children to be good examples for the Hierarchy, and I'm hollering for help, crying out to anyone to come and save us both, but mostly Cas. I can hear him gurgling with every breath as I'm holding him, begging for anyone to come by to help us, unable to drag him any further, unable to take even half-a-breath.
[There are a lot of tears coming out of her eyes]
JCS: A bunch of hooligans heard me and showed up to that filthy little side corridor while my partner and I are dying in the Backers of the Scows. Two shot up cops bleeding all over the place. Guess what they do?
MPG: …oh [beep].
JCS: They stood there and [beep]ing laughed. My partner died in my arms to the sound of laughter to his demise. No one called the Skybulance or the Precinct. The same [beep]ing pieces of [beep] that we're protecting and serving celebrated our demise. I bet those [beep]suckers boasted about it to their little [beep]head friends like it was a [beep]ing accomplishment.
[SHEPARD looks ahead to the lane of traffic]
JCS: God I hope those [beep]ers are watching this. I made [beep]ing sure I memorized their face-plates and colonial markings as Cas gurgled his last breath as they jeered at us and insulted us as we laid dying in that filthy little corridor corner. I hope they [beep]ing realize their Goddamn days are numbered, because I'm a cop and I'm really good with facial recognition. Failing to render aid to an injured citizen on the Citadel is a prosecutable crime, and considering that Castis was a cop and he died in my arms? That's negligent homicide; ten years in an IsoCube.
[SHEPARD looks back to POV]
JCS: They had best start praying really [beep]ing long and hard to the Spirits I never bump into them. There's no statue of limitations on homicide of any form.
MPG: Damn. Really?
JCS: Do you want someone to get away with your death just because it passed by some expiration date? That of a family member? A loved one? While I don't think anything on their behalf could have saved Castis, they could have [beep]ing tried. Still counts. Do you think his son and daughter are going to like knowing their sire died to applause? The only reason I didn't die was because I threw my partners' dead body on top of my own and I crawled out of that filthy little side corridor, dragging myself and Castis out into a main concourse. It was over four hundred meters of crawling with two bullets in my back and my partner on top of me whom I refused to leave behind for the [beep]ing vultures and scavengers to pick over his corpse. I crawled all that with with my arms alone and then when I got to a populated area, I pulled out my service pistol and emptied the entirety of my heat sink into the side of a building with the desperate hope that someone would report shots fired. Took about ten minutes for two C-SEC Officers to show up to my position where they found me holding Cas, refusing to let go, three-quarters dead myself.
[SHEPARD looks ahead]
JCS: Call me excessive, call me brutal, call me malicious, I dare any mother[beep]er in the the galaxy come up to my face and say that [beep] with the full knowledge that he's about to get his [beep] annihilated and take that [beep] like a champ. Let's see how they fare with a bullet through their spine and one of their lungs shot out, carrying a man whom I called brother on my back to keep him away from the paws of junkies and animals, carrying him so he could make home to his family just one last time. I see those creatures down in the Scows sell each other out for bare Credits and inject themselves with filth, and it's everyone else's fault but their own. Society forgets about them, turns a blind eye and lets them rot in the cesspools and forgotten spaces of the Citadel, hoping the animals wipe themselves out without burning the whole place to the ground. People cry something should be done but do nothing. They talk and talk but forget that coming up with plans or bills is just whistling in the wind. They aren't the ones picking up the pieces, the ones finding their relatives and loved ones on a missing sapients' case, finding the bodies stuffed into the recesses and vents. Society long ago decided not to give a [beep] anymore. And the only damn person who does anything about it… is me. Not politicians, not the rich, not the concerned public. Cops like me who protect and serve.
[Silence rules the Skycruiser for a moment]
JCS: I hope you don't mind we make a personal stop. There's one thing I need to do.
MPG: I don't mind. Kinda been wondering where we've been heading, but it seemed you needed the time to mull.
JCS: You're not bad, cookie dough. Keep this up and I might promote you to bubble gum.
MPG: Gee, thanks. Where are we heading?
JCS: I kept my promise, and now I'm going to deliver it to the only thing that truly matters in the galaxy.
[POV looks out to the Skylane, and then to SHEPARD, who looks at POV]
JCS: Family, Mike. Never forget that.
Apt. 1408, Stannis Fields Building, 3125 Block (Lower Wards), Kithoi Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175
Shepard Segment #6
[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]
OFF-SCREEN VOICES: AUNTIE!
[POV shows a domicile decorated in the styles of angular furniture and spartan settings. Everything is either made of metal or rock or looks to be made of metal or rock. DECANTUS/CORPORAL JANE CATHRINE SHEPARD enters the domicile while POV stands at the doorway as two tiny figures pounce the armored Human woman, one fast and one tottling]
CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: To'jas!
[SHEPARD is holding a pair of Turian hatchlings, small and without clothing. They have brown skinplates, and the tallest reaches SHEPARD's mid-thigh while the other only reaches her knee. Two sets of tiny-taloned hands reach up to be hoisted, which SHEPARD takes both into her hands, scoops them up, and brings the hatchings up for a gentle but loving hug]
JCS: Veto vu nooka se'leto vus dam ta'she?
[SCROLLING MARQUEE: MAXIVUS ADEPDOS, SON OF CASTIS ADEPDOS, AGE 4.]
[SCROLLING MARQUEE: LUTANIA ADEPDOS, DAUGHTER OF CASTIS ADEPDOS, AGE 2]
[SUBTITLES: HAVE YOU BEEN MINDING YOUR MOM FOR ME?]
KIDS: Vee, Auntie!
MAXIVUS ADEPDOS: Chuga muu vallo dam, Auntie?
[SUBTITLES: WHY IS MOM SAD?]
JCS: Oh, little Serah. [SHEPARD nuzzles the Turian boy with her nose] Your dam is… having a tough day. Dam mo kaarn. Ihr lavla tu.
[SUBTITLES: MOM IS TOUGH. SHE LOVES YOU]
LUTANIA ADEPDOS: Jat! Jat!
JCS: [Laughs] Of course! [SHEPARD puts LUTANIA on her right shoulder, and LUTANIA buries her face in SHEPARD's red hair] Maxi, where's your dam at?
MA: Zelotia!
[SUBTITLES: CULINARY!]
JCS: Jaa, tu rem vee ullit bor aa nan. Se kappa pur dam.
[SUBTITLES: NOW, YOU TWO GO PLAY AND BE NICE. I NEED TO TALK TO MOM]
[SHEPARD presses her forehead to each of the children before setting them back to the floor where they scamper off. SHEPARD turns to POV]
JCS: Might as well come in, cookie dough. Just… respect where you're visiting. If you have questions, ask in a way that shows you're trying to understand. Turian households are not Human households. Here, the females' word is law.
MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: This is your partner's house? Centurion Castis Adepdos?
JCS: Yeah, it is.
MPG: I… don't know any Turian.
JCS: Don't worry, Shaltis has a translator. It's just the kids you'd need to know Unifying Cipritine for.
[POV enters the domicile, doing a semi-slow look around to find a domicile decorated with pictures of family members and tapestries of landscapes that are obviously Palavenian in nature. SHEPARD heads deeper into the domicile, and POV follows past a large room that has ground pillows for chairs and a low table. Both MAXIVUS and LUTANIA are in this room playing with hatchling-oriented toys; MAXIVUS with half-meter tall action figures of Hasti Soldiers, and LUTANIA playing with a stuffed Hanar doll. POV follows SHEPARD towards a room that has half-walls surrounding it with a stone cylinder in the middle with a metal grate covering the top of it. On it is meat being cooked over an open fire, a hood sucking up the smoke, and a robed Turian female tending to the food. SHEPARD turns to POV]
JCS: Give me a moment, would you?
[POV goes up and down slightly]
[SHEPARD enters into the room, a kitchen/culinary, where SHALTIS ADEPDOS looks up from her cooking to see SHEPARD. POV takes a few respectful steps back as SHEPARD and SHALTIS embrace, touching foreheads for a long moment as SHEPARD sniffles audibly]
JCS: I got him, Shaltis. I promised I'd find a way to bring him down to protect you and your family and…
SHALTIS ADEPDOS: I know, I saw.
JCS: I didn't think I'd survive. I thought Pitne would get someone to finish the job as soon as I got back on duty, or I would be sent to some [beep]hole location as far as possible from him. But… I couldn't just let him win and him endangering your family, Shaltis. Not after everything he's done.
SA: That wouldn't have been a comfort if you had died as well, Jane. But it's over now, and now we can all rest easier knowing he's gone and our family is safe. I mean that, Jane; our family. Castis gave his life for someone he saw as kin, and you are a part of this family. Do try to remember that.
JCS: I-it should have been me, he should be the one here, I…
SA: Then he wouldn't have been the male I fell in love with, Jane, the one I was proud to bear his offspring. He wouldn't have been the male to take a chance with the rookie Human cop, to see her as a female of honor and integrity instead of just as a bumbling Human Being trying to make their way in the galaxy. Yes, he is gone and it hurts, but he gave his duty for a good cause and his life for a better one. His Spirit is in peace, Jane. All I ask is that you let yours be in peace, too.
JCS: I'll try. No promises.
[SHEPARD and SHALTIS pull away from touching foreheads and the embrace. SHEPARD leans against the half wall while SHALTIS goes back to cooking. POV looks down to see LUTANIA tugging at POV's pant leg]
LA: Jat? [Little talon hands go upward, very similar to a Human child who wants to be picked up]
MPG: Okay, I'll pick you up. [A pair of hands encircle the little girl hatchling under her arms and picks her up, holding her close like a Human child would be] Oof! You're a lot heavier than you look!
JCS: [Off-Screen] Those plates aren't cosmetic, cookie dough. [POV looks to SHEPARD] What do you know, Shaltis? He didn't snap like a twig trying to pick up Looty. Just wait until Maxi wants to go up. Nothing says physical training like having a couple of Turian kids around. Might lose some of that soft Earth-born pudge you got connected to your love handles there.
SA: Do I want to know why they're called 'love handles'? Or does the name say it all?
MPG: Hey, I work out! I played European Football in Secondary Gymnasium!
JCS: I'm sure you did. Were you the field goal kicker?
MPG: That's American Football.
SA: Why would anyone use a foot as a ball? Humans are weird. [SHEPARD chuckles at that]
MPG: I can't believe they're calling me fat.
LA: Fffffffff-at! [LUTANIA giggles] Fat! Fat! Fatfatfat!
[SHEPARD cackles out loud]
SA: Maxivus! Zelotia!
[SHALTIS goes to a cupboard that opens upward instead of a door going outward and selects two stone-looking plates. She then takes the meat off the fire with her talons and sets the steak-looking meat on the plates, one each. MAXIVUS runs over to the kitchen where SHALTIS hands him a plate what SHEPARD pulls up a chair that is obviously meant for the half-wall to be used as a dining location. MAXIVUS ascends the chair with a plate in one taloned hand easily as he begins devouring his steak-like meal by picking it apart with his talons and popping it in his mouth. SHALTIS comes out of the culinary with a plate in hand as she gestures for LUTANIA, and the little Turian hatchling floats over with a pair of hands hoisting her, a Human grunt audible. The mother holds the plate as LUTANIA takes her tiny talons and begins tearing small bites to feed herself with them]
MPG: Wow, less messy than Human kids.
SA: Have you eaten today?
[There is an audible rumbling of a stomach. POV looks down to show a white t-shirt, primarily in the abdomen area]
SA: I'll cook midday meal for you before you finish the rest of your shift.
[SHEPARD stands up and holds out her hands, taking LUTANIA and her plate as SHALTIS moves back in the kitchen]
MPG: Um…
JCS: Go ahead with the silly question, cookie dough.
[LUTANIA is picking apart and eating her food with ease]
MPG: Turians… do eat a different kind of food than us, right? Dextro-chilary?
JCS: Yep, you're going to be fed some da'thakar beef sauteed in goruush sauce along with a helping of korander bites, all imported from Palaven.
SA: Quit making fun of the Human, Jane. [SHALTIS has removed the metal grill from the stone cylinder and pulled out another one from a section closer to the ground. The second one has an obvious red ring on the outside of it] If you have any allergies that I should know of, tell me. I've learned how to cook what you Humans call a teebone steak.
JCS: No worries, cookie dough. Shaltis has been cooking for me for years. Just don't ask her to make you anything using chicken eggs.
[SHEPARD's left wrist starts to blink with a blue holographic pulse. SHEPARD looks at it, presses the pulse, and looks at the information coming from her OmniTool]
SA: Ah. Command is calling.
JCS: Excuse me, I need to take this in the other room. [SHEPARD looks to SHALTIS] I can't believe who's actually calling me right now.
MPG: Who?
[SHEPARD looks to POV]
JCS: The Chief Executor of Citadel Security.
Author's Note: I guess we won't be seeing ol' Pitne selling out his partner in Mass Effect 2. He broke THAT rule.
Yes, Shepard hacks the door with the ME1 hacking minigame involving four buttons and a Simon-esque pattern.
I made Shepard's gun sound like the Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum, which it's suppose to be. BTW "Dirty" Harry Callahan carried a Smith and Wesson Model 38, the 'reputed' most powerful handgun in the world, long since out of production. The modern day equivalent of the Dirty Harry is now the Model 59 N-Frame Hunting Revolver, and is superseded in power by the Smith and Wesson Model 500 Magnum in sheer pistol power.
Whom Not To Fuck With - In a forum discussion earlier, I wondered what would make Aria near-untouchable. Most would say drug lord, war lord, crime lord, pirate lord, or slave lord, but I imagine the Terminus is populated with plenty of those, making Aria just another one amongst many. In Real Life, these people exist and I'm sure some grace the 'don't mess with' category… but these guys generally don't last more than half-a-decade or so before some usurper or nation erases them. Some of the worst RL personages, like Carlos the Jackal, Manuel Noriega, and even Osama bin Laden, were ruthlessly chased down and all met their ends by bullets, bombs, or inside a prison cell. Most of the Roman Caesars were killed by their own, either by Praetorian Guards or their soon-to-be successor, so position or prestige doesn't get you the Hand of God to protect you. So what would make a person so terrible that messing with them isn't worth the consequence?
Why, the owner of the largest financial institution in the galaxy, of course! Need a loan? Need a ship? Want to start a business? What about a tax haven? A good percentage rate? Omega has a stock market for investments and bonds, and the Upper Crust (where Afterlife is) is some of the most expensive real estate in the galaxy. Whenever the Hierarchy needs to build a bigger, better Dreadnought and their pockets are running a little flat, guess who they call?
No one fucks with Aria because, quite literally, every government, business, corporation, and entity (legal and illegal) owes her money, and generally a ton of it. She can ruin the galaxy by calling in debts that the Citadel owes her while she finances terrorist organizations and separatists, sells real estate all over the galaxy, secures loans (home, Skyauto, vessel, personal, business), and can even give you a nice secured credit card with a nice APR. Everyone caters to her because she has everyone in her pockets.
Galactic Financial; for ALL of your banking needs :-)
Just don't go stiffing that bill.
It's not unusual for cops to become semi-attached family member. Just one of the many reasons why its called 'The Brotherhood'.