Assassins approach a target differently to soldiers. They can't lay siege, they can't give honourable battle. In their trade, numbers are dangerous. An assassin's advantage lies in people missing him when he's around. He hits hard and fast, and then leaves. Failure the first time means it'll be that much harder the second time.

The Reclamation Effect

Chapter Five

de·mon (noun)

1. an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in Hell.

Bullets ricochet wildly from my barrier, a barrier quickly becoming as strong as wet tissue paper. Thankfully the room is too small to fit many people in or we'd really be screwed. Liara and I both toss a Throw into the same hapless trooper and he sails backwards with enough force to momentarily stall the impending attack.

I pull back behind the blast door and Feron slams it shut and Liara fries the console with an overload. "What happened?" Miranda asks, though to me it sounds more like an order.

"Broker troopers," I wheeze, "four of them. More coming. The body wasn't there."

The Cerberus liaison freezes. "It what?!" she shouts.

"It wasn't there," I repeat, exasperated. I'm way too exhausted for this crap. Nothing we did on the Normandy was this long-term. "It's already been taken. We need to go. As in, now." Unlike us, the Broker's goons don't seem winded. Or wounded, for that matter.

"By who?" She asks, obviously unwilling to let this go. I grab her hand.

"Miranda, I'll be more than willing to theorycraft with you," I hiss venomously. "But that door won't last forever and if we stay here we are dead. So RUN!"

The Cerberus officer finally gets the picture, her eyes widening as hammering begins on the steel door. None of the men I saw had demolition charges but undoubtedly some of the Broker's forces would have some. And when they get there, we'll be sitting ducks.

Miranda swears vigorously, turning and running back the way we came, the rest of us in hot pursuit. A booming explosion sounds behind me as my mouth contorts into a grimace. Damn it, this is about the worst position we could be in. Fleeing from a hostile force in a second hostile force's home base. If they come at us from any more than one direction, we're dead. That's it. If they come from only one direction, we're just mostly dead.

Great.

It's not great that I can barely muster the energy to run right now. Back-to-back fights against the Dagger and Batarian super-biotics aren't good for long-term health. Because of me, we're not making very god time through the tunnels. The wave of self-loathing is instantaneous but I shove it down. I don't have time for a pity party right now. Feron's shoulder wound and Liara's splinted forearm mean that Miranda's really the only one of us who can maintain a proper run and for a second I see her look back at us, calculating gleam in her eyes. Then she accelerates, sprinting faster than a normal human can. In seconds, she's gone. Vanished into the tunnels.

She just left us.

The mission's basically over; we have no idea who has the body or where they've taken it. I'm not Cerberus, Liara and Feron are active enemies of the group. It almost makes too much sense. I choke down a hysterical giggle. We'll be a speedbump against the Broker's forces, she'll be able to move quicker and hide easier. Escape is almost certain at the cost of dead weight and frenemies.

I can't really blame her. I mean, I'd do the same thing in her position.

It still sucks though.

Liara visibly sags, she knows what it means as well as I do. So does Feron, undoubtedly. He's just better at hiding his thoughts.

"What do we do…?" Liara half asks half moans. I shove her as hard as I can in the direction of the exit. She takes about half a step. "Keep moving," I rasp.

As long as you're moving, you're alive. The scarred Asari's face hardens and she nods. You can see the pain in her face at every step and still she moves. She's… tougher than I thought.

Feron takes the rear-guard position without argument; he's the only one of the three of us that can shoot passably and Liara can't fight and run at the same time. The sound of footsteps gets closer with every second and the chance of us getting out without incident dwindles to nothing.

I shove the other two forward, drawing on long-depleted biotics. The very touch of the power makes me want to throw up. I hold onto it anyway. All of us aren't going to get out of this one. It might as well be the guy that's already dying that bites it. "Go," I hiss, sorrowful colour seeping from my lungs. But it's a peaceful colour, too. I am, after all, doing what I was always meant to do.

"I won't-" Liara starts, recoiling as I punch her in the face. Given my level of strength right now it's more like a poke but it gets the point across.

"Liara. Go. Now."

Tears spring to her eyes and I realise I just echoed Shepard's last words to her. An apology dies on my lips, unsaid. Feron takes her arm with his good side, the two of them disappearing into the labyrinth.

Honestly, I don't think I would want it any different. These tunnels almost feel like home, in a way. Even though I was denied the right to die at her side, dying in battle against the Queen's foes is almost as worthy. This time Life Transfusion comes as easily as breathing, stronger than ever. Two Broker troopers round the corner, almost on cue.

Killing them is simple. The first with a swift application of biotics, a touch of throw followed by a quick Reave. The added power will keep my barrier strong. Not that I expect to survive this, but killing as many enemies as I can is desirable. The second reacts more swiftly, rolling under my Pull. Though he was never the target; a large rock springs free from the cave wall and throws itself into the back of the trooper's head, sending him reeling. One quick strike and the Turian dies. It's almost too easy.

Now. To chase the Broker forces or follow Liara and Feron? The deathsinger wants to charge the enemy, the human to fall back. Which am I, again? I honestly don't know. How curious. But I'm sure my friends can tell me, so I'll follow them.

I catch up to them, too. They aren't moving that quickly.

"Liara," I ask politely, "What am I?"

The wounded Asari just looks at me, expression incredulous.

"Goddess, I thought I'd never see you again. Are you alright? What about the Broker's forces?"

Oh. She didn't answer my question. That's sad. Should I kill her? After all, she did fail to protect the Queen.

"You took your sweet time," Miranda says. She sounds irritated.

"You're back," I exclaim. "I thought you left us behind."

She frowns. "I considered it," she comments dryly. "But if I'm going to get Shepard's body with the rest of my team dead, you're needed."

"And what are those?" I ask, pointing serenely. I had thought the enemy would be here by now. Well, if their scouts were killed I suppose they'd be a little slower.

"Grenades from dead Batarians." Miranda smirks. "Bombs away."

The Cerberus operative tosses the explosive cluster down the tunnel, turning and fleeing. A cacophonous explosion blooms in the tunnel, a wave of fire all but engulfing us as we flee. The actual fire doesn't penetrate our shields but the heat burns. Rocks cascade around us, sealing off the passage.

The pain wakes me up.

What the hell was I thinking? I get lucky enough to survive because the Broker's men are playing it safe and I keep it on? I need a freaking holiday.

I shut Life Transfusion off and my vision blurs and hazes like I'm underwater. My legs go out from under me and Miranda picks me up, not even breaking stride. She slings me over her shoulder and the next thing I know we're back at the main level.

"Did we lose them?" Liara asks.

"Unlikely," Feron grunts, his own chest heaving. "One tunnel destroyed will delay them. It will not stop them."

"Give me a second, I can walk." I groan, feeling the effects of no sleep and self-cannibalism. I've had a lot of injuries recently and nothing to power the regeneration. Marshalling what little reserves I have left feels like I'm grinding my bones to pieces; for all I know I am.

A bullet pings off the wall. Six Broker troopers spring into action, rifles glued to their shoulders as they advance. At least there's good cover. Miranda fires back, momentarily pinning the enemy down.

"Reinforcements," she summarises curtly, cutting the steaming heat sink and jacking another in without so much as a glance. "There's no longer a reason to stay here. If the Broker has the body by now they will have left the field of battle. We should retreat." She looks at me, as if wanting my opinion.

Since when did I become the one calling the shots? Oh, that's right. Because I'm the only one that got a good look at the place Shepard's body was supposedly stored.

"As if the original group weren't enough," I mutter, "Agreed." Throwing a lump of debris into the back of a Broker trooper's head distracts him for a second. We'll need more than that. "Split and scatter," I order. "Meet at designated neutral ground. Everyone hear?"

"Understood, designated neutral ground." Feron sighs, his pistol cracking at the enemy.

"Yes," Liara sounds, using Feron's distraction to move back.

"Will do," Miranda finishes, reporting over the radio. All the gunfire is making it rather difficult to hear normally.

"Radio silence until we meet up, or if you have an emergency," I say. "Good luck." Miranda lobs a pilfered flashbang grenade into the air, using the temporary confusion to create an opening. We both break cover and run, doing nothing but putting as much distance as we can between the private soldiers and ourselves. Liara and Feron take off together, splitting us into pairs. Soon we'll split again, hopefully giving the Broker's soldiers too many leads to follow.

"You never pulled the pin on that one did you?" I ask, hissing each word out between strides. The Cerberus officer just smirks, her own words coming much more easily. Damn enhanced physique.

"The disorientation would have stopped us from running," she explains. "Well trained as they are, they reacted too fast for their own good." She nods and we separate, sprinting into Omega's labyrinthine maze.

I never claimed to be a fast runner or particularly physically able in general, but nobody survives a job against a rogue Spectre without some serious cardio. Even so, the only thing that keeps me going is repeating the mantra drilled into every recruit at Alliance military bases: 'endurance lasts as long as you want it to'. For once the Blue Suns help us; keeping the streets under virtual martial law takes ordinary people off the streets so we have space to run. The Broker's men won't follow too fast, there's a chance that we could turn and ambush them. To chase would be an overextension and they're too skilled to make that kind of mistake twice.

Still, no point in taking chances. I sprint for all I'm worth, not really caring about direction except for away. I can get my bearings later. By the time my lungs give out, wheezing and straining, I must have gone a kilometre. A poor showing. Though on the back of fighting the Dagger, a superpowered Batarian and the Broker's private army I think it's pretty damn good.

A gunshot informs me that Omega evidently disagrees. I instinctively fall behind the empty front of a shop. If I crouch I can get my whole body behind the counter, careful to keep a few inches away from the metal so my body heat doesn't seep into the metal. It'll stop me from being seen on thermal, at least.

Did they follow me? How? Not that it matters, damn it. I chance a look, hurriedly ducking again as a rifle round pings off my barrier. Not Broker soldiers, which is a small relief.

Eclipse mercenaries, two of them. Not all that much better. Damn it, why now? They're probably pretty pissed that their squad was killed and the body stolen. I doubt they got paid before the handover, so they must be out money as well.

And if there are two now, there'll undoubtedly be more in a few seconds. I need to leave.

There's a door by the back of the shop; unless both of the Eclipse mercs are sharpshooters they won't be able to get me before I make the door. Nobody in this district sticks their head out when there's a firefight going on, so there's no way I can use bystanders to lose myself in the crowd. None to use as hostages or bait, either.

I snap up out of cover, running for the door, lifting one of the mercenaries off her feet with a wave of swirling green energy. Using biotics nearly makes me pass out but it's the only advantage I have. The second tracks me with his rifle, firing hard before I manage to throw him away. I hate having to run. I shouldn't run from prey, prey should fear me, run from me! I hesitate, turning back toward my attackers.

Something hits me like a tiny sledgehammer, pushing me back. A lance of red-hot pain drills into my stomach and I stagger back, grabbing the door and falling through the portal to safety. Damn Rachni instincts. I can't afford to act like a mindless beast against mercenaries with guns, stupid idiot!

Every breath hurts. I manage to feel around for the pain, my hand comes away slick with blood. Questing fingers find a ragged hole in my shirt, a hair above and to the right of my navel. Damnation, that hurts. I could heal it, maybe. That might not be the best solution right now. Even if I managed to draw the energy from my exhausted body I'd be risking all kinds of internal problems. Short term, I doubt I'd have the strength to move at all. If more Eclipse troopers found me that weak I'd be dead. Medi-gel would be a wonderful thing to have on hand right now but Miranda has the reserve and I'm all out. Fighting the Broker and the SIU doesn't come cheap.

And finally, healing is all well and good after the bullet is no longer in the wound. There's no matching wound on my back, so the chunk of metal must be lodged somewhere in my intestines, what a charming thought. It better not be poisoned or radioactive. So- ouch- priorities.

One, open an omnitool line to Liara. This constitutes an emergency in my book; they'll be able to track the call. Two, hope the two jokers who shot me think I'm dead. Three, wait for help while avoiding Eclipse. Hopefully it won't be that difficult, this is Blue Suns territory and I doubt they'll enjoy seeing their rivals trespassing in force. Four, decide whether to heal the wound and get the bullet extracted later. Five, bandage the wound if it's not healed. I don't know how much I can use Life Transfusion without risk, better safe than sorry. Finally, pretend to be a corpse. I giggle absurdly at the last point. There's certainly enough blood lying around.

More gunfire erupts from the front of the shop, out of sight. Liara? I didn't think she'd be here so quickly. We must have been running in the same direction. One of the Eclipse soldiers, hefting an obviously broken arm, falls through the door next to me, a line of bullet holes stitched across his chest. I guess he doesn't mind the arm so much, then. Ha ha.

"That's both of them," I hear an unfamiliar voice say. Flanged. Turian? "Fucking E-boys, the hell are they doing here? Ah, screw it. Thak, anything else?"

A shadow falls over me and I realise with a start that it's not Liara. Blue armour, white decal. The same decal plastered at every street corner, like a dog marking its territory. Blue Suns. Probably defending their turf, no better than Eclipse. They're the enemy. I try to raise my gun with a trembling arm but it feels like it weighs a thousand tons.

A heavy impact rips the gun from my fingers, my arm falling limply to the side. A foot or a fist or something? I can't see straight. My body aches and hurts all over and the hand clenched over my wound isn't helping like it needs to.

"Spirits," the merc exclaims in surprise. "A live one. A bleeder, too. Thak, get your ass over here double time. This fucker's got to be involved somehow." Heal yourself, I order blearily. Start Life Transfusion. Get up.

But I can't. To be a deathsinger is to die and I hurt too badly to reach into that shadowed part of my mind. My vision begins to fade, I can feel my body starting to slide down the wall. Oh shit, I finally realise. I could die here. This could be the end. Of everything.

Sound begins to fade, light all but gone. Dimly, I hear the Blue Sun talk again. To Thak, whoever he is. "You've got the medi-gel, right? He'll die before we get him in a chair otherwise…"

I'm alive.

Fantastic.

That's a good start.

It's soured by not being able to move my arms and legs more than a few millimetres.

"He's awake," I hear someone say. The lights are too bright, even squinting sears my retinas. I can hear footsteps and armour moving, so I'm not alone. I can smell… grease, and metal. And old blood, and someone who needs a shower. My nose wrinkles involuntarily.

The air tastes like cigarette ash and rust. It's cold. I can feel the metal of the chair I'm sitting on and some kind of restraint over my wrists and ankles. Bound, then, not drugged. Good.

My sight slowly returns and I can't stop the spike of pain that shoots through my body when I try to move my head. My neck goes limp, returning my head to its former drooping position. Belatedly, I notice my shirt missing, the skin around my navel a swollen and inflamed mass. The bullet wound. My skin is drawn in a pattern that suggests sutures and despite the ugly appearance it looks better than I expected. They must have given me medi-gel. More courtesy than I expected from Omega's thugs.

"Hey. Brat." An armoured hand strikes my cheek, snapping my head to the side. I raise my head slowly, trying and failing to hide the pain of the movement. An armoured Batarian stands in front of my chair in my cell. No, not a cell. It's more specious, no bars. A one-room apartment? A makeshift kitchen is behind the mercenary, so it's not intended as a jail. An outpost? I look around. Eight Suns, most of them lounging around or talking with others. A little steel table is next to my chair, a tiny shard of bloody metal on it. The bullet, I guess.

The Blue Suns officer grabs my jaw and forces me to meet his four-eyed gaze, glaring angrily at me, studying my features. "Don't know him," he grunts to one of his men. "Must be new."

Was I brought here to be interrogated? How much time has passed? I need to escape. The sooner the better.

I'm snapped back to reality by another armoured fist. I feel my teeth cut into my cheek with the force of the blow, tasting coppery blood sliding down my throat. He bellows into my face, "The last few days we've had absolute chaos, by the Pillars. First that fire that nearly burned down half the District- we had to get fucking Aria T'Loak of all people to help. Now there are bodies in the streets, all-out firefights between unknown groups, people who pay protection to us getting their shit blown up. Now the fucking Eclipse is moving in on our turf. My bosses are breathing down my neck for answers and you're going to tell me exactly what the fucking hell is going on!"

Well. An impressive tirade, but I'd be much more likely to smile if I weren't recovering from being shot. I suppose common courtesy isn't in fashion anymore. Well if I don't get food, water or a bed, they don't get an answer. Particularly about that fire part. Aria would not be pleased.

"Having some problems?" I slur drunkenly, unable to stop a satisfied smile from breaking out across my face.

The Batarian's dark-red skin flushes an angry purple and he raises his arm to hit me again. I brace myself for the blow, oddly comforted that I'm already in so much pain I doubt I'll register the hit too much.

The strike never comes. I open my eyes curiously. The purple tint has faded from his face and instead of blind rage a cunning smirk rests on his face. "You offworlders think you're so clever. Well, if you won't tell me, then I'll ask your mind directly. Sergeant Aversa."

An Asari materialises next to my interrogator, stepping into my field of vision without a sound. She must have been behind me all this time and I never noticed. That's not a good omen.

"Look into my eyes," she says. "This won't hurt a bit." Oh, fuck me. She's going to meld with me.

Time slows down, that moment stretching on. A crossroads of sorts, I suppose.

I'm tired. Exhausted. In agony. Starving. Freezing. Refusing to speak is one of the harder things I've done recently and now they're going to have an Asari look directly inside my head. In one instant, I make a resolution: nobody is to know. Nobody. No matter what the cost, my mind is my own. I will not allow ANYONE to influence me. Not the Rachni. Not a crazed biotic terrorist. Not even the Reapers themselves.

I will not be controlled. I refuse to be controlled. I will let the galaxy burn before I am a pawn in someone else's game.

"Embrace eternity," Sergeant Aversa sighs, breathing out as her eyes become black as pitch.

I feel the touch of her consciousness on mine, like the Rachni Queen but infinitely gentler.

And the moment the connection is established, I pour every piece of shock imagery I possess into it.

The entire history of the Rachni species. Blood and fire and death. Genocides on an unimaginable scale. Slaughter, fields of ash and destruction. A span of time so far removed from mortal understanding that it shatters reason itself.

And the Reapers. Into that tenuous connection I throw everything I know of the Reapers, their machinations, their atrocities. The fate of the Protheans, the endless cycles of pure obliteration. Millions of years of murder and genocide, infinitely repeating time and time again with pure, chilling mechanical precision.

Everything that has taken me years to understand, to comprehend? I force her to experience it all in a single microsecond.

Aversa falls backwards as the connection shatters, blood leaking from her tear ducts ears and nose, her eyes sightless. She twitches as she hits the ground, foaming from the mouth. In seconds she lies still as death.

Silence reigns over the outpost.

"What the fuck…" one of them breathes, stunned. The Batarian looks at the corpse of his officer, his fury rekindling in a second. He strikes me hard enough to knock my chair to the ground, bouncing my head against the steel floor. Red rage consumes me, pent up for weeks and months with no release. Even placated by the news of Project Lazarus, I'm not what you could call certifiably sane. Not that I care. I scream my hatred at them; roar my wordless, overwhelming fury. I hiss curses and death at them.

How dare they. How dare they raise their hand against ME! These lowly worms unfit to grub in the dirt beneath the feet of the Queen's chosen!

"Die."

I don't remember what happened next.

I don't think I want to, either.

The next thing I remember is standing in the destroyed room, half a manacle hanging from one wrist. Blood and sweat stain my hands, my chest, my lips and jaw. The puncture on my torso is gone, healed over with only a slight circle of scar tissue to mark the wound. My body heaves like I just ran a marathon. The broken and twisted bodies of almost a score of mercenaries lie against the walls, the floor, anywhere they can. The steel floor runs slick with blood, red and blue and yellow and purpleandallmakingbrownandyes…

I shut my eyes. Darkness is preferable to this mutilation.

Because it is mutilation. Armoured or not, the corpses of the Blue Suns barely look bipedal. Most are missing at least one limb and all of them have armour torn away, clothes shredded, chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. The foul smell of rot and death lingers in the room, the smell of ruptured intestines and failed bowels. The smell is in my nose, in my mouth, in my eyes and ears. It's everywhere.

Only one lives, an Asari lying on her back near my feet. Fistfuls of flesh are simply gone from her chest, her ribs torn open, organs exposed to the air. She coughs wetly, spilling more blood on the already-covered steel.

"What are you?" she gasps, and I know it will be her last words.

"You Asari have your Ardat-Yakshi," I groan, forcing the words through an aching throat. It comes out in a coarse, inhuman growl. Tempered by the foul taste in my mouth. "You think you're the only species with demons?"

Then I raise my foot, enveloped in green biotic power, and crush her head like a grape.

I call it a mercy.

I never could deceive myself.

The door on the far side of the room bursts open, three figures storming through, guns out. They stop abruptly at the sight of the room, one of them retreating almost immediately.

Miranda, Feron and Liara, who is currently occupied vomiting.

Well.

This is going to be fun to explain.

I turn off Life Transfusion. At the moment, the only thing I can feel at the sight of that power is disgust.

A tidal wave of weariness and nausea hits me the instant I let it go; the world shakes alarmingly. I catch myself on a bent metal sink, only a few seconds later do I recall it's not actually attached to the wall. And it's covered in blood. Did I use it as a weapon? That's kind of funny actually.

"Parker?" Miranda asks, her voice is all distorted and broken up. Why is she speaking like that? Was she injured when we separated? I didn't think she was. "Hearme?"

"I hear you," I mumbled, dazed. Liara takes my shoulder, helping me support my own weight. Wow, I'm starving. If there was something in my stomach I'm pretty sure I'd have thrown it up, just because of how hungry I am… and in pain too. I thought I healed myself? Gotta heal that wound…

My green power flickers and vanishes instead of surging. My body contorts involuntarily, slipping from the scarred Asari's grasp and hitting the bloody floor hard. Bile jets from my mouth as I cough hoarsely, struggling not to curl into a ball in the face of instant agony. The pain at least clears my head a little… Something's wrong with me. Something major.

"Help," I gurgle deliriously, somehow finding my predicament funny. I'm like a ladybug that's fallen on its back, waving its arms. Just without the waving. Hahaheheha.

"He's delirious and in shock," Miranda concludes, pulling me back to my feet. Wow, she's a lot stronger than she looks. Oh wait, test tube baby. I forgot. I wonder if I'm going to die? Huh, that was a really fast topic change… Something must be wrong with me! Logic. "We have to get him to neutral ground," Miranda orders, taking control I guess? Feron and Liara probably won't argue. Well, Liara not yet anyway.

"Enemy presence?" Miranda barks, drawing another stupefied chortle from my lungs. Barking. Like a dog. Haha.

Wait, why am I getting carried again? I'm supposed to be stronger than this. And I can cheat! Life Transfusion is basically cheating, right? I'm borrowing power from later to use now. Kind of. So since I'm going to be better later, I can be better now! I'm smart.

This time, the Rachni heritage doesn't even activate. The pain just obliterates my consciousness, light vanishing like water down a plughole.

The first thing I hear when I open my eyes is the beeping of a heart monitor. I'm inside, the roof is dark and filled with old pipes. Omega, then? Probably. Bleeding hell, I feel like crap. What happened? I remember waking up in a room filled with bodies. People I killed. After that, nothing. Did I pass out after Liara, Miranda and Feron found me? I must have.

"Ah. Awake. Good, good. Have questions."

I try to turn my head but I honestly can't find the strength. But the voice is Salarian and it rings a bell in my memories. Salarian, on Omega, medical equipment… Then I remember where I specified to regroup.

The speaker takes a step into my field of vision, the deformed cranial horn confirming my suspicion.

"Yes, yes, many questions," Mordin Solus continues. "Physiology conventionally impossible. Experimental test subject?" He almost shoots the question at me, large eyes unrepentantly staring at me.

"I… what?" I'm not wearing a shirt, I see. Or pants. Thankfully I at least have underclothes. Even if they are a bit bloody. How did that get there? I swear, blood is like sand. You find it everywhere.

"Were you experimental test subject?" Mordin repeats. His mouth reminds me of a hummingbird's wings.

"Not that I know of," I wheeze, trying for humour. I don't think it works.

"Body is combination of levo-amino and dextro-amino protein chains," Mordin states, his eyes still not moving. "Structure impossible in human genetics. Any genetics. Must be engineered."

"It was accidental," I grunt, trying to push myself into a seated position. The Salarian places one small hand on my chest and easily pushes me down.

"Explains lack of documentation," the Salarian comments, seemingly to himself. "Will respect patient's confidentiality if you wish. Still, difficult to treat without understanding."

I level my best unamused glance at him; I expected more subtle fishing from an ex-STG agent.

"Dextro physiology not based on Turian or Quarian genetic structure," Mordin continues, "Potentially original protein sequences? Unlikely, human genetic engineering insufficient for present results. Interspecies collaboration? Human ideal for genetic testing. No, no, would have seen documentation of progress. True accident? What potential source? Another dextro-amino race? Only Turian and Quarian in galaxy. Unless… No, Rachni also dextro-amino but extinct."

I let out a sigh of relief, trying it make it sound annoyed. Annoyed is better than letting him in on how close he just got.

"Unless not actually extinct. Shepard's team visited Noveria, details classified. Binary Helix biowar division investigated… discovered Rachni specimen? Saren's interest suggests likelihood. Hm. Yes. Chance of pre-planning minimal. An accident? Unusual. But, stranger things." The Salarian finally steps back from the bed, nodding slightly. Well… shit.

"Condolences." He tacks on as an afterthought.

"What?" I ask, still trying and failing to get up. I'm just too exhausted.

"New life must be problematic. Uniqueness of situation results in lack of structure, organization. Difficult to adjust. Also, body slowly dying."

"Yeah, I know," I say, sighing to myself. At least I'll be able to hold out until the Reapers come. The chance of me living to my actual expiration date is pretty slim, to be honest.

"Biotics gained from accident?" Mordin quizzes. I suppose if he's treating whatever I've got he has a right to know…

"No. From birth," I slur. Guess I'm not up for extended conversation yet, huh.

"Unusual level of potency," The doctor remarks, typing on his datapad.

"Enhanced by the incident," I answer. I never expected talking about this stuff to feel so liberating, actually.

"Understand. Now. Onto your condition."

"How bad is it?" I ask, wincing. My side really, really hurts.

"Extracted left kidney," Mordin starts genially. I burst into a coughing fit.

"You," I sputter incoherently. "You what?!"

"Organ was necrotic. Nonfunctional. Had to be done. Structural damage also apparent in stomach, lungs, heart and liver. Intestines mostly untouched. Muscle tissue heavily damaged but repairable. No significant external damage. Spleen also removed. Impressed at your survival considering severity of injuries. Lost you once."

Bleeding hell. I died? For how long? I knew overusing Life Transfusion would have its cost. But this?

"Can… can any of it be recovered? Cloned organs? Transplants?"

The Salarian shakes his head. "No. Physiology too unique, successful transplant impossible. Cloning unfeasible, existing stem cells corrupted. Moot, as chance of successfully synthesising levo-dextro hybrid organ…" he inhales a deep breath, releasing it quietly. "Unlikely."

"How long have I been out?" I ask. I don't even know if I'm taking it in but I can feel a surgical scar on my side. No wonder it hurts.

"Two and a half days. Fed intravenously. Recommend additional three weeks bed rest for full recovery."

Three days? Shit. It's over, then. If the Broker stole the body, it's in the hands of the Collectors now. If the Batarians held onto it, it'll be in Hegemony space now. As for bed rest, three weeks? Heh. That might even be enough time to figure out what the hell I'm going to do from now.

There's a more pressing matter though. "Mordin, look. I know you retired from the STG, but can you please not tell them about me?"

The Salarian looks at me for a moment, before walking calmly over to the side of the room and picking up a pistol. Which he proceeds to point straight at me.

"Unconscious when brought in to clinic, already knew name. Not surprising, advertising across station. Knowledge of STG status…" Another long, deep breath, released quietly. "Surprising."

I… really should have expected this. "Look, don't shoot me, okay? I know some things. Like how you're a brilliant doctor, former STG. I just want to get better. Hell, I think you're doing a damn good thing here. I just really don't want to get chased around the galaxy by every mad scientist with a scalpel."

The Salarian's eyes narrow fractionally.

"I said mad scientist," I grumble. "Like I said, I just want this to stay quiet and usually I'm not so talkative and I'm sorry but- Wait." A prospect occurs to me and my placating look turns slightly accusatory. "Did you drug me?"

The Salarian shifts uncomfortably. "Initial anaesthesia during operation unsuccessful, you awoke screaming. Heavier dose required, would have killed ordinary human. May still be affecting higher functions. Decision making."

Good lord. What kind of drug stays around for three freaking days? And still has enough power to make your brain feel like cotton wool? "What kind of drug does that?" I grunt.

"Combination of Elcor and Krogan sedatives," The doctor replies, a touch of satisfaction in his voice. "My own invention. Now. Apologies for startling you. Doctor/patient relationship of utmost importance. Will keep your secret."

You know, it probably says something about me that my initial reaction is to call him a liar. Still, what am I going to do, drag him with me? If I could even move. Wipe his computers? Yeah, because that'll make him cooperative. Pay him off? I doubt I have much money left with all the expenses I've been picking up. New armour, new guns, tickets to Omega, food and now medical bills. I had a good stockpile before Saren but with this? I'm almost broke.

Speaking of medical bills, might as well bite the bullet. "How much do I owe you?" I wince, hoping it won't be more than what I have.

The Salarian waves his hand. "Not an issue. Funds provided by human female acquaintance. Besides, pleasure to work with unique patients. Challenging."

With that, the ex-STG agent turns his back on me, scrubbing his hands in the sink. Miranda paid to keep me alive? Better yet, Cerberus paid? God forbid they do something helpful for once… It's probably just a ploy. Put me in their debt, something like that. But Miranda could have left us all to die. And she didn't.

"That's it?" Isn't there supposed to be something else? Enforced bed rest, medication? Something like that?

The doctor doesn't stop, doesn't even spare a glance. "Yes. Bed rest recommended. No space here. More patients to treat. Body will heal in time."

"Where are my friends?"

Mordin sighs, probably at the incessant questioning. He walks through the door without giving an answer, leaving the door unlocked behind him. Almost immediately it slides open again, admitting Miranda, Feron and Liara. Liara leads them, her arm no longer splinted. Looks like I'm not the only one who got treatment. I wonder if that was on the Cerberus payroll as well?

"I'm so glad you're okay," Liara says, sniffling slightly, burrowing her head into my chest. Hey, it wasn't that bad, was it? I mean, sure, I might have technically died in surgery, but I'm better now. What do I even do in this situation? Hug her back?

I loop weak arms around her back, more resting on her than actually holding. All it does is make the Asari cry even more.

I suppose this isn't too bad.

"There has… been a new development," Feron intones solemnly. Or that could just be his voice.

"Can you walk?" Miranda asks bluntly.

"Your concern for my health is touching," I retort, trying to move my legs. They feel like someone else's, barely responding. But every second more of the sedative wears off and my range of motion increases. "Give my ten minutes."

Lawson smirks. "Please. Dr. Solus told me everything there was to know about your condition. Since when do you talk to a patient about their health?"

Even Feron cracks a small smile. Damn it, I'm a qualified medic. Don't I get some say in this? Then the Cerberus officer and the Drell exchange glances and the air of humour disappears in an instant. Miranda quietly helps Liara up, propping a datapad on my chest so I can see it.

"What's this?" I ask.

"An ultimatum," Liara answers quietly.

"Greetings, citizens of Omega," The voice begins, the light dim. All I can see is a pair of crossed legs, either human female or asari. The tone is arrogant, cocky. I only know one person with that tone and that physique.

The lights slowly brighten, illuminating the room just enough to make out the features of the speaker.

Aria T'Loak, of course.

"Today is an illustrious day. Today, something rather valuable has come into my possession. Well. I say today but really it was already in my possession." She leans closer, an undertone of threat in her voice. "Everything on Omega is mine," she claims fiercely, eyes hard. I really hope that's a message to the Shadow Broker.

The camera pans out as the ruler of Omega continues. "Every life. Every piece of cargo." She smirks. "Every last tunnel."

"We think Aria drilled from another tunnel into the safehouse," Miranda explains.

"So here's what's going to happen," Aria continues as the camera continues to zoom out slowly. "I have before me the corpse of the legendary Commander Shepard. In its original packaging, of course."

The camera completes its zoom, revealing the black freeze-casket. Holy hell. She managed to snatch it from all three groups without any of them knowing? Yeah, I've seriously been underestimating her.

"I don't have much use for it, so I'm starting an auction. You have three days to bid. Winner gets the corpse." Aria gives one more smirk, a grin big enough to make the Cheshire Cat look like a small-timer. "Good luck."

The screen goes dead.

"It was posted to Aria's Omnitube page a few hours after we arrived here," Feron explains. "The auction ends in fourteen hours."

"And?" I ask. There's something he's not telling me.

Miranda takes a deep breath. "I contacted the Illusive Man and we made a bid of five hundred million credits. Then the Shadow Broker made his bid. Two billion credits."

Two billion?

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you just say two billion?"

"Two thousand millions, yes," Feron confirms. "Even with Miranda's benefactor we cannot match that sum."

Defeat is an odd sensation. It just weighs you down until all you can feel is your own worthlessness.

"So that's it," I groan, voice dead. "We're done."

The edges of the Drell's mouth curve into a tiny smile. "Well. No. Not quite."

A/N: Many things are happening, I know.

First, Mordin. Did I manage to get his character down? His diction is certainly different from any other character in the 'verse, it took a few tries. I hope it sounds authentic! Aria's action here is also very deliberate, and I hope that her deviousness wasn't over or underdone. I figure she's capable of something this duplicitous. Poor Batarians, never knew what they were getting into.

Onto the torture/interrogation scene and its aftermath; I hope this is a polarizing moment for Parker (or his fans, I guess). I've had a few people tell me that they find Life Transfusion overpowered and in a sense they're right. It is a ludicrously powerful skill. But, it has its downsides. In this case, it was almost fatal and Parker will have to get used to living with only one kidney for the rest of his life. Plus, the damage it causes can't be adequately healed by medi-gel and if you try it takes a huge amount of the stuff. So on pain of death, we'll say goodbye to the OP-ness for the moment, back to basics for our protagonist (I hesitate to call him 'hero').

Finally, enormous thanks go to The Extroverted Recluse for her help in making this story what it is. Massive thanks also go to LogicalPremise, for allowing me to use his OC Tetrimus Rakora. Definitely check out both their work if you have the chance!

But yeah, again thanks to all the people who have voted in the poll, it really helps me. Thanks again to all the people who review, I really love the conversations your reviews spark! If you have any questions or recommendations or feedback, drop a review. It only takes a second or five!

Until next time, have an awesome time :D