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Strogor Vrax drank his third tankard of Absinth of the evening as he kicked back and relaxed after a long day. It did not have the same kick as a good shot of Ryncol but it was the best he could find in this place. New York, it was supposed to be one of the great Human cities but the Krogan had yet to find a good drink here.
Humans... soft like all the other races. At first, Strogor thought the humans might have a bit more backbone than the other species. They fought the Turians after all and they had a city called New York. Obviously, it implied that the old York had been conquered, sacked, burnt down and rebuilt over the ruins, just like any good Krogan settlement. But no, the Humans made peace with the Turians and Old York, or rather York, still existed. It was smaller and on another continent for some reason, but he did not care enough to look into why.
The final damning proof of these Humans' weakness was why he was here. It seems the humans, like so many others, decided that the best kind of bodyguard was a Krogan bodyguard. So the word went out, every politician, businessperson and celebrity were all clamouring to outdo each other with the biggest, toughest, meanest looking Krogan they could get to show off to their friends and intimidate their rivals. According to a news report Strogor had overheard Krogan were now, one year after the armistice, the second biggest group of aliens on Earth, after the Asari. It seemed there was no shortage of Humans needing Krogan, or wanting Asari. Strogor could only grimace at that, the galaxy was so predictable.
Naturally, his own client was some sleazy politician that he was employed to shadow and listen to every tired, cliché-ridden speech. He was not even under threat; it had been two months and there hadn't been a single assassination attempt. What kind of political system had no violence or murder in it? It was needlessly complicated and downright unnatural in the Krogan's opinion. On the other hand, perhaps his employer just was not worth killing, which would explain a lot.
Still, the pay was good enough to put up with the boredom and the living quarters he was given were very comfortable, if a bit fragile. Most of the furniture was already broken and Strogor's own tankard was the only thing left to drink out of. As the last surviving chair groaned under his presence, the Krogan began idly flicked channels to find something to watch.
Then the doorbell rang.
"What a stupid invention," grumbled the Krogan, "they should just bang on the door."
He opened the door, expecting some human in a suit telling him he was needed somewhere or other. Instead, he found a group of human hatchlings, and, despite Strogor not exactly being an expert on fashion, they seemed to be dressed very strangely. He was about to ask what they wanted, when they stared at him, screamed and ran away.
"Well that was weird."
With that, the Krogan closed the door and sat back down, but he did not stay there for long.
Within ten minutes Strogor heard the doorbell ring again, groaning he answered and found more hatchlings in even stranger dress than the last lot, only these ones did not run.
"Trick or treat," said one hatching. A male, if Strogor guessed correctly, who seemed to be wearing a black cloak and cowl with pointed ears. He was holding a little orange basket out as though he was expecting something.
Another male, also holding a basket and wearing something that looked like human bone structure seemed to be about to say the same thing but then looked up at him, stopped, and said-
"That's a really good costume mister; did your mom make it for you?"
"My armour was constructed by my clan's War-Smith after I passed my trial three centuries ago."
"Er ...Jack I don't think that's a costume," said the group's female. She was taller than the other two, which presumably meant she was older and in charge. She was all in black and had an oddly pointy hat. She turned to the Krogan looking apologetic.
"Sorry we've never seen a real life Krogan before. We didn't mean to bother you we were just trick or treating."
"What's 'trick or treating'?" asked the confused Krogan.
"It's what we do on Halloween!" said the youngest male, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Right...what's Halloween?"
"You don't have Halloween?!" asked the little male, clearly aghast at the idea.
"It's when we dress up in scary costumes and go round peoples' homes asking for candy," said the female, with a slightly know it all tone. "Didn't you see all the decorations?"
Strogor thought about it for a moment.
"You mean all that black and orange stuff? I thought those were your clan colours. Besides," he added pointing at them, "your costumes aren't very scary."
"Yes they are!" cried the smallest male pouting in indignation.
The Krogan snorted, "Next time try dressing as a Thresher Maw or a pack of starving Varren."
"They don't sound very scary!" the little human exclaimed. "I bet I could scare them off easily." He flailed his scrawny arms for emphasis.
Strogor stared at the insolent little hatching for a moment, and then laughed.
"And just when I was starting to think your species were completely spineless, Ha!"
The children just looked confused.
"Alright then," decided Strogor, "So I'm supposed to give you candy? What if I don't have any?"
He had tried some Human 'candy' but it was far too sugary for his taste. Like any sane Krogan his diet mostly consisted of Meat and Booze.
"Well then we get to trick you!"
The Krogan's hand drifted towards his knife and glared.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"It doesn't have to be candy," said the older female trying not to sound too disappointed. "As long as it's something sweet...and not fruit!" She added angrily.
"Hmm something sweet," murmured Strogor, "wait here."
The Krogan trudged over to what was left of his kitchen. He found the small basket he was looking for. The 'welcome basket' had come from the human agent who hired him and had been full of food and drink, most of it was tolerable, but one thing had been left.
"Here you go," said Strogor giving the female a bottle of wine.
She gave him a look.
"We're not supposed to have alcohol."
"There's hardly any alcohol in it," said the Krogan. "Anyway that's the only sweet thing I've got; take or leave it."
The three little humans looked at each other and shrugged.
"Thank you," they said in unison
"You'll have to fight for dominance to decide who gets it of course," added Strogor.
"Why can't we share it?" asked the youngest.
"Well you could, I guess," Strogor did not understand aliens at all. "Enjoy it however you like."
The girl still looked a bit dubious, but her mother had told her before going out to always be polite.
"Thank you for the treat sir, happy Halloween!"
"Goodbye Mister Krogan!" chorused the males.
Strogor nodded and watched them leave.
"Humans are weird," he decided, "but at least their hatchings have got quads."
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"Back already? Did you have a good evening? And did you remember to thank everyone?"
All three of the children said 'yes' knowing full well that that question was coming. Their mother smiled and looked up.
Then she noticed the bottle.
"Where on earthdid you get that?"
"We got from the Krogan downstairs," answered the youngest. "He said it was the only thing he could give." And added in a stage whisper, "He didn't even know what trick or treating was."
"David! Do you see this?"
"What my dear?"
"Your children have just been given a bottle of wine for Halloween! I knew we should have gone with them."
"Wine you say? Is a good vintage?"
She gave her husband a withering look.
"David I'm being serious!"
"And so am I darling, but if what I just heard is true then the Krogan gentleman didn't know what Halloween was. It seems to have been an honest mistake."
"It's true he didn't," chimed in their youngest.
"Well... I suppose," she sighed, "Anyway it's time for bed you lot. Your stashes will be safe until tomorrow."
Inevitably, the conversation resumed after the children were sent to bed.
"But I mean really David, what should we do?"
"Nothing," he replied "there was no harm done and it was the thought that counted."
"But-"
"Besides it is a very good vintage. I say we get a couple of glasses and celebrate Halloween ourselves, just like we used to at college." Then an idea hit him.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Do you still have that slutty witch costume?"
His wife looked a little surprised at the sudden change in topic and the thoroughly dirty smirk on his face, but then she smiled coyly.
"...Maybe"
"I'll get the glasses."
The next day Strogor found a thank you note with a bottle of whisky outside his apartment. Halloween now confused him more than ever.
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