Well, here it is. I know that it has taken way too long, but I have a partially valid excuse, I promise! You see, this chapter is the… what was it, I think fifth version. I deleted, rewrote, decided I didn't like it and so on and so forth, until I decided to get on with it. Now, problem was, I had a move in the time between last version and this one (which I am not entirely satisfied with), so I didn't have all that much time over the last month.
Tbh, I had a hard time writing this, so I decided to add a side story which will show up when I decide the chapter isn't long enough yet. I actually had a lot of fun writing that. Also, there is going to be a liberal use of flashbacks from now on.
I hope you enjoy the chapter, give me some feedback, and just generally have a great day!
(This chapter was not beta-ed, so do point out any grammatical mistakes or typos if you feel like it)
~Chapter 5~
Six months later,
Illium, Nos Astra, Lakeside District,
I sighed as I peered through my scope, highlighting all the guards surrounding my target. They were just making it too easy. Four guards around the target, five more trying to blend into the crowd, and one sniper on overwatch. Well, there was a sniper on overwatch. I had to commend him on the excellent vantage point he had taken, I had a really good view on the target from here.
That target being a certain former Turian Blackwatch operative who had deserted and subsequently joined the Shadow Broker as one of his agents. Aaaaand then he betrayed the Shadow Broker, which is the reason I am now hunting him. You can say all you want about the 'Broker, but he/she/it does not like to be double-crossed. That, and his jobs are fucking lucrative as hell.
I sighed again and whispered to myself, "I swear to god, it was like they aren't even trying. Where's the fun in this?" It was honestly getting to my nerves. I mean, I get that I was relatively 'new' to the business, but this was plain boring. I swear, if tall and birdy didn't have some info I in his head I needed myself I wouldn't even bother. It's not like I had a lack of money, especially with a super AI which could literally steal all the money in the galaxy in a matter of minutes, so this was purely for convenience. And fun, but people usually look at me strangely when I say such things…
Oh well, back to the mission. Let's see, four in a mag, one in the chamber. One shot one kill, start by shooting the target in the leg, go for the Asari guard next to him, then the two Turians, first left, then right, then go for the Salarian and reload. Get rid of the other guards, take the prize and GTFO.
I took a deep breath, closing myself off from my surroundings and focussing on the targets. I became one with the rifle, one with the scope, one with the trigger. I started my sequence.
The rifle kicked against my shoulder and the Turian fell down to the ground, his lower leg staying attached to the rest by only a few strings. Another shot, not a second after the first one, took out the Asari, the Turians were next and hit the ground like scaly bags of alien potatoes.
I cursed as the Salarian reacted quickly and hid behind a conveniently placed chest-high wall. Fuck it, I'll deal with him later. I continued on to the other guards after I reloaded, dropping them quite quickly, except for one, who found solace behind a… chest-high wall. Are you fucking kiddin' me?
I swear to god those things are gonna be my downfall someday. But never mind that, I-Sec was bound to be attracted to this commotion, so I had to finish it. Fast.
I rappelled down the building, the strong military-grade rope holding up no problem. I fucking love the future. Granted, the genocidal space squids or whatever's comin' are a little annoying, but I love the new gadgets! Maybe if we had them on the mission in Ukrai- Don't think about that. I reprimanded myself as I hit the ground, dashing to cover immediately after.
The surviving Turian was laying down suppressive fire while the Salarian tried to pull my target to safety. Emphasis on the word tried. Turians - even when lacking a lower leg - still weigh a helluva lot, especially in armour.
Noticing the attempt to escape I stood up, my shields absorbing all the incoming fire from the Turian before he was terminated by a Maverick round to the chest. I eyed my shield-bar and grunted. Those shields, or 'Kinetic Barriers' if you wanna be all correct about it, sure were useful, but they didn't stop me from getting knocked a bit back whenever bullets hit them.
Dantus Proditor was, for the first time in the last ten years, truly scared. He fumbled trying to get his pistol as he pushed himself through the pain. He was very aware of the trail of blood he was leaving as one of his guards, a Salarian named Karreh, slowly dragged him into cover. From his position on the ground he had seen his guards picked off by some sniper. He had seen how the body of one of his oldest friends had fell to the ground next to him, a large mangled, bleeding hole where his heart used to be.
He saw how the unknown assassin popped out of cover and with uncanny precision nailed his last remaining Turian guard in the centre of mass. What kind of weapons do that kind of damage?! He thought as he shot in the direction of the assassin, causing the grey, armoured figure to duck behind a crate.
The Blackwatch operative kept his Carnifex trained on the position he had seen his assailant while Karreh slowly pulled him into cover from where he could call for reinforcements. He propped himself up against the wall of the alley and took a deep breath. The adrenalin was slowly dissipating and he started noticing the pain in his leg. Steeling himself, he looked down to see half of his leg missing.
The auto-injectors in his armour had already covered most of it in medi-gel, but it still hurt like spirits-damned hell! The Turian quickly looked away from his leg again, looking at the Salarian instead. The amphibian was quickly tapping buttons on his omni-tool while looking at the entrance every now and again to make sure the assassin hadn't decided to show up yet.
"Sir, contacted reinforcements. Air car will be here in five minutes to extract you." Karreh said in the quick speech typical of his race. He just grunted, trying to keep his attention away from his leg. Or lack thereof, rather.
"Karreh, how long until the evac arrives?" No aswer, "Karreh? What's going on?" He looked around for the Salarian, only to find him crumpled on the ground. His eyes widened when he saw an armoured form shimmer into view.
It was the last thing he saw before the world went black.
"And you are sure he is dead?" the highly synthesized voice on the other side of the connection asked. I rolled my eyes behind my visor and held up the severed Turian leg, putting it in front of the webcam-like device on my ship.
"Yes, I'm pretty fuckin' sure. Now give me the fucking money before I decide to come get it myself." I said, using the coldest tone I could muster- which was pretty goddamn cold, if I say so myself. I was worried at first about working for the Shadow Broker, but Threes had guaranteed me that any connections sent to me or my ship could not be traced.
In reverse, I knew exactly where and who the… person was, so my threats were anything but idle. My contractor, on the other hand, was not quite aware of that information. "Bluffing and empty threats will get you nowhere, assassin. And it is not advisable to threaten an agent of the Shadow Broker himself."
I snarled and dropped the leg to my side, "If you do not give me my money I'll show your wife, son, and daughter on the Citadel how empty my fucking threats are, you ungrateful piece of shit!" We had been at this for nearly ten minutes now, something which was not the case with the last gig I did for the 'Broker.
Seriously, last time it was all smooth sailing, I made the kill and got the cash, but now this fuckwit (who was probably new and on some sorta power trip or somethin') was refusing to close the deal! Honestly, I would have preferred working with a Krogan over this sorry piece of stool. They were a lot less fucking stubborn, that's for sure. They don't die quite as easily, though…
"Alright, alright, calm down! I just wanted to be sure, ok? Look, I don't know how you know about my family, but you'll get the money!" he wasn't quite panicked, but there was a certain feeling of unease I felt behind that last sentence.
"Good, that's all I wanted. G'bye and have a nice day." I abruptly terminated the connection and pulled my helmet off. Where there had at first been an unruly mop of light brown hair, there was now a military buzz cut and a thin beard. I wiped some of the sweat from my brow and attached the helmet to my belt before standing up from the pilot's chair, which was less difficult than it seemed, as it turned when one wanted to get in or out of the seat.
I needed a drink and a bite to eat before I concluded my business of today, so I went to the cargo hold and opened one of the crates, taking out a muesli bar and a bottle of water. I took a sip and sat down on one of the metal boxes containing various supplies…
Flashback, Six months ago,
Firespray, Cargo Hold
I looked at the ruined chestpiece on the workbench in front of me. I shouldn't have let that damn Asari get the opportunity to throw that warp. Sloppy, Riley, sloppy. My chest hurt in a way it had never done before, but the medigel should take care of that in no time.
The chest armour on the other hand… it was just a warped piece of scrap now. I honestly hadn't expected the armour to last me only this short amount of time. Contemplating what to do next, I was startled by the sudden appearance of a certain flying lightbulb.
"Oh my, oh my, reclaimer, it seems that this is beyond repair. You'd be better off replacing it and throwing away this piece of scrap!" Threes said in his regular excited tone. Why does he always have to be so upbeat?
"Goddammit, Threes, don't startle me like that! And where am I supposed to find a replacement for something which is probably the only thing of its kind in this entire universe?" I asked, exasperated.
The monitor cocked to the side a little in what I assumed was a confused gesture, "Well, from one of the crates, of course! What, did you think our boss would just throw you into this 'verse without spare equipment? You've been getting your ammunition from one of them, have you not?" the AI stated, his tone the slightest bit condescending as he flew over the crates and boxes in an erratic pattern, stopping above each one to tell me what exactly was in it, "This one contains spare parts for the ship, this one is food, drink and other such necessities, this here's the spare parts for the hover bike, this one is filled with medical supplies, thi-"
I interrupted the energetic AI, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "Can you please just tell me which fucking box has some new armour?" Threes nodded and moved over to one of the crates, "Thank you."
"Ah, reclaimer!" Threes shouted in my ear. I shot out of my memory and glared at the construct.
"What?" I bit back, not entirely in the mood for his shenanigans right now. The AI apologized, but continued with what it had to say immediately after.
"I have finished the procurement of a penthouse with a landing pad in Nos Astra for a short period of time. The near-complete surveillance makes it a… tedious place to keep hidden, but we should be fine for the extent of our visit here. It is sound proof, so it is an opportune place for us to house our guest! Furthermore, the payment from the Shadow Broker has been received and I have siphoned all the credits from our guest's and his guards' accounts."
I smiled. As annoying as the bulb might be sometimes, he was worth a trillion times his weight in gold. "Good. Land the ship, but keep it in stealth mode, we wouldn't want any unnecessary attention, now would we? We'll deal with the Turian in the morning, because right now I need some sleep. How long until we are at the penthouse?" I asked as I started to strip from my bloody armour and threw on some jeans and a simple white T-shirt.
"Fifteen minutes, reclaimer." I nodded and gathered the stuff I'd dropped on the floor.
I threw the undersuit and gloves into a small washing machine before I started to scrub the armour. 'Take care of your gear and it will take care of you.', as my DI in basic use to always say. And Sarge. Damn he went absolutely apeshit if someone didn't do that.
It was when I removed the remaining mags from the webbing that I remembered something: the severed Turian leg in the middle of the cargo hold. I should probably put that on ice for tomorrow.
Next morning,
Illium, Nos Astra, Residential District,
Penthouse
I poured myself a glass of orange juice before sitting down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Apparently a full fridge had been included in the price for the penthouse, filled with all kinds of delicacies. I took a sip and savoured the sweet flavour. This was without a doubt the best safehouse I'd ever stayed in.
It was furnished in a modern style, with mostly blacks and whites, except for some pieces of modern art I didn't really care for. The glass was one-way, so people couldn't peek into my personal business, and last night Threes had upped all the security and locks.
I should probably get dressed and get to work… I thought as I finished the glass and grabbed an apple. "Threes, can you make sure we have everything for today's activities? I'm going to go on a walk before I start today's activities."
After all, what was point of living in a city full of parks if you didn't make use of them? So, I grabbed my jacket and the Carnifex I had taken from the dead Salarian and headed out, gun safely in my holster. When I got to the door I reached into my pocket and put on a worn cap and put it on my head. With the constant surveillance everywhere it might be better if I at least had something that made it a little more difficult to see my face.
I took the elevator down with the idea I would get to the park with no trouble whatsoever. I was proven wrong when the doors opened and a young Asari barrelled into me. Well, she seemed young, but she was likely three times my age or older. Fucking Asari with their crazy long lifespans.
"O- oh, excuse me sir! I-I-I didn't mean to do that, p-please don't hurt me!" she pleaded frantically, causing me to raise an eyebrow. Why would she think I was going to hurt her? Seriously, I didn't look that scary, right? I mean, I wasn't even wearing my armour.
I just ignored her, stepping out of the elevator, not sparing her another glance, but she seemed persistent about apologising, "Sir! Sir, I'm sorry! Please don't ignore me, "She mumbled the next part seemingly to herself, but I had no trouble hearing it, ", not you as well."
Goddammit, she had caught my attention with that last statement. Why would anyone ever ignore someone as… pretty as her? Objectively, of course. But dammit, she was interesting now, and that warranted further investigation, if just to satiate my curiosity. I sighed as I dropped my plans for the day and turned around to face her, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her gently back into the elevator.
"W-what are you doing?" she seemed more confused than scared, but I decided to grace her with an answer,
"You remind me of someone. And I am curious, so we are going to have a conversation." I like to think my people skills had increased in those first six months.
They hadn't, of course, but I like to think so.
Our Earth, 2016
~Till Death Do Us Part 1~
Grimm was never tired. It was a fact he had come to live with for his entire, sleepless, stupid life. Well, death, he supposed. He was Grimm Reaper, after all; Soul Gatherer of universe B-31-2, subsector 7c. Most people called him Death, though.
Actually, he thought it was rather unfair for them to call him that, since he wasn't the one actually killing them. No, he was only there to make sure their souls could move on to the beyond (and keep a tight schedule on deaths). It was the sad truth that in some cases, when it was someone's time, they just wouldn't die. Now, he himself didn't really mind if they kept living for another month or so, but he did have a quota to fill and souls to get to the recycler.
If he had lungs he would have breathed out a sigh of annoyance as he checked himself in the window of a shop. He was wearing the classic Soul Gatherer uniform, long black robes with a concealing hood and wide sleeves covering his bony frame. Literally. He was a skeleton.
He had tried to reason that he didn't need to wear this stupid robe, but his overseer was of the opinion that he should dress in a way everyone could recognize him. As Death. The thing he wasn't even responsible for…
Grimm shrugged as he checked his agenda one last time, checking his golden pocket watch for the time as he did so. Alright; time of death, 14.32 hours, robbery gone wrong, male called Callum Foster. Aaaand the time is 14.31. He heard a scream and a gunshot from a nearby alley. Ah, right on time, Mister Foster.
He strode into the alley, the terrified man holding a smoking gun didn't see him, no mortal could except for a near-death experience. Something his contract obliged him to be present for every. Single. Time. He would have rolled his eyes if he had any when he saw the body of a young man lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor. Another robber shot because he was a fucking idiot.
He checked his watch again and counted down the seconds in his head while the man with the gun slowly approached the body. Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… and he's dead. The robed skeleton quickly touched the forehead of what had been Callum Foster a few seconds earlier and pulled out the soul.
Said soul started transforming into a glowing, humanoid shape, before turning into the mirror image of the man on the floor. "A- am I dead?" the soul asked, and Grimm skullpalmed. He hated his job, but someone had to do it.
This side-story will tie in with the main story eventually.
Have a great day everyone!
