Another chapter! Thanks to owl208 for beta-ing thus the overall improvement of the story's progression.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mass Effect series nor do I own Bioware, and I still need to pre-order ME3.

Chapter Three

A rapid flurry of blows hit the commander's arms positioned to protect his face; the moment the attacks stopped, Shepard lowered his defense a little as he prepared to strike back. His opponent, taking advantage of the opening, landed an effective uppercut to the chin that was followed by a hard right roundhouse to the Normandy's commanding officer's solar plexus.

"Had enough, Shep?" Jason watched where the commander's form was sprawled out on the floor, trying to catch his breath. He held out his hand to help the man up, who took appreciatively took it.

"Well, at least I know your dossier wasn't lying now..." Shepard coughed as he rubbed his aching midsection. He caught the water bottle that was thrown at him, thirstily guzzling down all its contents.

Jason grinned before taking a drink of his own water. They were in the lowest deck of the Normandy, the hangar. Since he had relinquished the room underneath Engineering to their tattooed squadmate, he took up his residence at the 'garage' as he preferred to call it. Even with the large exhaust fans scattered throughout it and the Kodiak shuttle on the far corner, the garage was generally an unused open area. He had discussed his idea of having a gym on the ship as a way for the crew to blow off steam that Shepard immediately became fond of and eagerly made the requisition order to the XO.

After a brief stopover at the Citadel earlier that week, the garage became fully outfitted with state-of-the-art equipment including sparring mats in the middle, some heavy bags on the starboard side, etc. It was all reasonably priced as well thanks to the commander, who was able to somehow persuade the merchants he dealt with into reducing their prices for him.

"I think I've sufficiently been beaten up." Shepard smiled pleasantly at the man he came to view as a friend; he found the Vanguard's informal nature refreshing compared to the awkwardly formal conversations he shared with the rest of the Normandy's current crew. "Invite me down here if you ever spar with Jacob - the guy is a strong boxer. I'll be up at the loft if you need me."

Jason chuckled and went towards his corner of the garage, where aged datapads were scattered around his makeshift bed on the floor; he used his duffel bag as a pillow and an extra blanket Doctor Chakwas had given him. He let a big yawn out as he grabbed a clean shirt to switch with the one he had on which was a bit soaked from his previous workout followed by the sparring match with Shepard, and he laid down on his bed, his hands behind his head.

"Jack, Mordin - suit up. We're going to recruit Okeer." He heard the commander's announcement over the intercom. He knew of the krogan warlord from one of the mercenaries the Shadow Broker paired him up with before. Dr. Okeer was ill-reputed as a militant radical so ruthless and fanatical that even his own race has turned on him. Nonetheless, he was fascinated with the krogan and his work. I remember Wrex talking about him. Sold his own people to the Collectors for some of their advanced tech.

"So, what exactly happened out there?" Jason leaned back on his chair, balancing on one of its rear legs effortlessly, while he waited for the troubled commander to respond. He had just awoken from his nap when the man returned and promptly requested his company at the mess.

"Okeer told us to go take care of Jedore, and we did. When we came back, he was already gone. We took his 'perfect krogan' in his stead." Shepard traced his finger around the rim of his cup that contained the remainder of a revolting coffee substitute; he endured the taste for the caffeine fix he desperately needed for the long night of reports he had put off for the past week, inciting Miranda's unyielding lecture about his work ethic involving said paperwork. "The team is basically split up about whether or not to release the krogan from his tank."

"In the end, it's going to be always up to you, Commander. It's your ship. You decide whether you want to 'birth' the krogan or not." He reached for his tea, taking a sip, before returning it onto the table. "It'd be great though to have someone who can take more hits than usual - a krogan would be a strong addition to the team. That's my opinion, anyway."

The commander emptied his mug then shook his head, coughing at the horrible taste of his drink. He saw the look Gardner was giving him from his position in the kitchen, and he waved the man's concern away. "I could light a match with my tongue." He said to no one in particular, outwardly frowning at the lingering aftertaste in his mouth.

"Here." Chuckling, Jason slid his untouched cup of water to Shepard, who drank it without hesitation. Jason stood up and gave his superior a mock salute. "Well, Shep, tell me if you're releasing the guy. I'm great with kids." His last remark earned a laugh from the commander, now more relaxed than he was prior to their conversation.

For the past couple weeks or so, he had been dining with the Normandy's executive officer. It had been relatively quiet for the first few days; however, being just the two of them in her office, she had begun opening up to him little by little. She revealed to him about a few of her Cerberus operations prior to becoming head of the Lazarus Cell, granted that she did not divulge the information all in one sitting and that she left out details with the reason being that it was classified information for the Illusive Man's eyes and ears alone. "Gardner, got anything good for me and the XO?"

The mess sergeant, who had been leaning idly against the kitchen counter, turned to heat up a large pot on the stove. "Sure thing, kid. I have some of my calamari gumbo right here. Want to try a bite?" Gardner scooped up a spoonful of it and held it out for him to try.

"Don't do it! It's a trap, Jason!" The warning came from the Normandy's Scottish engineer as he made his way into the mess hall. "That man can't make a good haggis if his life depended on it."

"All haggis taste like ass anyway." Gabby added as she joined her best friend's side. She took up a food tray, greeting Jason with a small wave.

The Scottish man admitted the truth in her words, and he replied with a trace of dejection, "Aye, but in the right hands, it can taste like mighty fine ass."

The cook shook his head at Kenneth's joking, "I'm not even serving haggis. I'm good, but I'm no miracle worker." He turned to ladle generous servings of gumbo onto the rice he had placed beforehand onto two food trays, setting them on the counter out for Jason. "Hope the XO enjoys it."

Nodding his thanks to the mess sergeant, he took the trays and departed the mess for the XO's office. He passed the table where he and the commander were seated in earlier, finding Shepard to be absent. Must've left because of the lack of reports Miranda had called him out on. He chuckled before he shook his head, correcting himself. No, no. He probably went down to have dinner with Jack like always.

Jack disliked 'through traffic' – she had told him once – and favored isolation over company, so it was unlikely that she would ever go up to the mess to dine along with the rest of the crew. Jason had taken it upon himself to deliver the food to her for a chance to learn more about the dangerous woman and her past with Cerberus, but when he had sensed the commander's interest in her, which was evident from how he predictably chose her to join him on side missions and went out of his way to talk to the frankly harsh squadmate, he suggested that Shepard take his role of bringing meals to her.

The door unbolted itself, permitting Jason to enter into the familiar office/room. He chuckled inwardly upon finding Miranda engrossed in writing her reports as usual, a small crease formed in between her brows which he found strangely endearing. He greeted her with a smile, "How's my favorite XO doing?"

Identifying the voice of the one person aboard the Normandy whom spoke to her with such ease, the Cerberus operative pried her attention away from one of the many reports that needed to be completed, relinquishing it to the man in front of her. She mentally sighed as several matters popped into her mind that all pertained to the laid back squadmate. His routine visits to her office during mealtimes during which she ordinarily would work through were starting to affect their relationship as she felt that they were becoming too friendly towards one another than she would prefer; she reprimanded herself for participating in furthering the development of their camaraderie for she had encouraged him by laughing and disclosing a few particulars about her past. It utterly went against her customary principle about keeping ideally distant and professional relationships with her colleagues unless it completely necessary to do so otherwise - it rarely ever came to the point where it was.

"You alright?" Jason raised a brow quizzically, unknowingly interrupting the seated operative's thought process. He held up the trays he carried to acquire the woman's notice, making it clear as to why he was presently in her quarters, "I brought food."

Miranda gestured towards the seat in front of her desk which was next the Vanguard, observing as he placed the tray he had brought for the XO carefully in front of her. She voiced her thanks but did not start eating. She was recalling the message the Illusive Man sent her earlier that day, a 'mission of dire urgency' as he had called it; though unstated, the message greatly indicated her superior's eagerness to secure the loyalty of the Shadow Broker's former top operative. "The Illusive Man contacted me earlier. He obtained intelligence that could possibly lead to that trial mission you offered him."

I was wondering when he was going to take advantage of it. He guided a spoonful of gumbo into his mouth, savoring the rich taste as he studied the Cerberus woman's controlled movements. Impeccable table manners as always, XO, he noted while he speculated what the leader of the infamous organization had prepared for him regarding the 'trial op.'

A ping of an omni-tool which resounded in the room was followed by another, prompting the only two people in the space to check their devices as orange holographic forms appeared on each of their left arms as they scanned their notifications. Message from SB? Jason glanced at the Cerberus operative in front of him; given that she was occupied with browsing through her omni-tool's database, he opted to read the message sent to him from his former boss.

To: Jason Sterling

From: Shadow Broker

There is still time to salvage the situation. Resume your position amongst my high-ranking operatives. If not, I am left with no choice other than to send out a kill order. You have until the end of a Galactic Standard day to respond. Shadow Broker out.

He clenched his jaw tightly, a rare expression of loathing showed on his customarily relaxed face. It was easy for him to see what the information broker was scheming, which included the ex-operative immersed in it all. Bastard. He thought of the Illusive Man and added him to the list. Bastards.

A small crease appeared in between the brows of the chagrined brunette once again as a sign of her deep contemplation; her superior had relayed her specifics for the mission of the man seated obverse to her along with a task specified for herself. The assignment was detailed to be one selected to assess the Vanguard's expertise explicitly in intelligence gathering, clandestine work, and threat neutralization. She looked over to the composed squadmate, observing him as he set his omni-tool back to its idle feature which triggered the orange holographic structure to withdraw.

"What's up?" His bass voice broke the silence, locking eyes with the XO as soon as he looked up from closing his omni-tool. He struggled to distract himself from any contemplations of the Shadow Broker's plans, shifting himself in his chair to a much comfortable position to ready himself for the information he was about to be given.

Miranda reiterated what she had read from the mission's dossier, "Your mission. The Illusive Man believes that one of our agents has gone rogue, but he lacks sufficient evidence to validate his presumption. The agent is Ron Guilesow." Pausing for a second, she took note of the distant quality of Sterling's expression; his thoughts were apparently elsewhere. He seemed to become aware of the briefing's cessation as he immediately apologized, requesting the XO to continue. "Not long ago, Guilesow finished a mission on the Citadel. He requested to remain for a while longer owing to the upcoming promotional event later today celebrating the renovation of the Dark Star Lounge in the Zakera Ward. The Illusive Man thinks that this is not the case. Find evidence of Guilesow's transgressions and terminate him. Most likely, the event will be a hot spot for high profile clientele, so discretion is greatly advised."

"How am I going to the Citadel if the commander has no idea about this?" He studied the image of Ron Guilesow that came into view on one of the XO's consoles, making certain that the man's face was rooted into his memory.

"Shepard plans to respond to the message he received from Admiral Anderson by going to the Citadel to meet with him personally."

How coincidental, Jason mused as he scratched at his five o'clock shadow. "Been sifting through Shep's mail, XO?"

She gave him a prolonged stare with her smoky blue eyes prior to shaking her head at his enquiry and resuming with the briefing, "You will be going as Franco Laski, a fresh face to the modeling industry. I will provide you backup assistance if needed, but I will not physically be present seeing as it would risk the mission on the off chance that Guilesow recognizes me."

"Understood," The Vanguard confirmed before standing up. "I guess I'll go get ready then."

Exuding blue flickered from a tattooed arm of the convict aboard the Normandy as she biotically levitated her M-3 Carnifex heavy pistol, moving it up and down effortlessly whilst she skimmed through a datapad she held in her free hand. "Damn Cerberus…" She growled as she read on about the radical human-centric group's past projects, all of them warranted her ever-increasing hatred.

"ETA to the Citadel – One and a half hours." The Normandy's pilot announced over the intercom, which Jack ignored.

She had become familiar with the many broadcasts over the intercom that she paid no heed to them unless it involved herself being part of the squad for missions, which was occurring lately. Fighting was her outlet, a way to hone her skills and keep her anger in check. It was good thing that Shepard knew that.

"Shepard." She thought out loud; the man visited her every mealtime unless he had a mission to deal with. At first, she was skeptical about the goody-goody commanding officer, but she learned to accept it. Hell, he brought her food - don't fix what isn't broken, right? As long as he kept his distance, and not ask too many questions and irritate her, she was fine with it.

"What goes on?"

"Sweet potato fries!" Joker exclaimed, looking over his shoulder to find the crewmate with ruffled espresso-brown hair standing beside his chair; he had not heard the man approach. "Do you want me to die? Who do you think drives the Normandy?"

Quirking a brow, Jason chuckled lightly as he pointed to one of the many orange consoles in front of the pilot, "You don't look like you're driving the Normandy."

Joker turned to find that he hadn't closed window that he had opened when he was searching for asari porn. With a tap on the screen, the website disappeared from view. He defended himself, "A man has needs. Anyway, we're almost at the Citadel."

Sure enough, the political, cultural, and financial capital of the galactic community became visible as the ship moved toward it. Consisting of a large central ring with five arms protruding from it, the Citadel housed the Presidium and the Wards respectively. The Normandy advanced towards the ring, which enabled easier approach for ships as it was the center of rotation for the massive station. Haven't been here in a long time.

Positioning his hat securely on his head to his liking, the bearded pilot began to ease his beloved Normandy SR-2 to dock with the station. It took a few short minutes before EDI proclaimed that the ship was successfully docked to which Joker answered back with a "No shit, Sherlock."

"Mr. Moreau, the fictitious character Sherlock Holmes is irrelevant to the subject." EDI pronounced in its artificial speech.

"What's up with the civvies?" Joker disregarded the ship's AI as he remarked on the Vanguard's attire. His chair swiveled around to permit him to fully scrutinize the civilian look that Jason sported; a black v-neck and distressed grey pants, both emphasized the man's well-built form. "Going on a date or something?"

"Definitely," His sarcastic riposte was followed by the appearance of his trademark smirk on his face. Tracing the healing wound on his right arm where he had been grazed by a bullet the day he joined the recognized Spectre's squad, he did his best to refrain from picking at it lest he would alter its recovery.

"Sterling," The Australian accented voice of the Normandy's XO called from behind; he turned around to watch as she strode through the bridge to the cockpit. The woman stopped close to the main airlock, examining taller man's appearance. It was strange to regard him in civilian wear; he truly gave the impression of being a male model as she took in his lean build. "Nice outfit."

"Indeed." The armor-clad commander agreed as he joined their group. He looked from the laid-back Vanguard to the austere Cerberus operative then finally to the ship's acerbic pilot whom shrugged to indicate his knowledge of the current situation was nonexistent.

"I was hoping you'd give us shore leave for today." Jason proposed whilst his fingers went through his hair, mussing it out of habit.

Shepard took a minute to chew the idea over before answering positively. "I don't see why not. Just one day though. I expect everyone to be back here by tomorrow before we leave at 0700 hours."

"Roger that, Shep." Lazily saluting, he gave the Normandy's commanding officer a smirk. "I'll try not to get too drunk."

Heavily inhabited, accommodating millions of residents from various galactic species, the Citadel Wards were similar to the sizeable cities back on Earth such as Singapore and Hong Kong. The countless skyscrapers that rose from the superstructure, sealed against the vacuum of space given that the breathable atmosphere is only maintained at the height of roughly seven meters, never ceased to amaze Jason Sterling.

He was brought out of his reverie straightaway once he heard the static-free voice of the XO in his ear comm, "Check. Sterling, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear. I'm heading over to the party." He viewed the information desk which was busy with visiting tourists – beside it was a hallway that led to Citadel Security Services' offices and custody suites. Can't go through there. There was a long history between C-Sec and himself, spanning from when he began operating under the Shadow Broker to a year ago when he renounced all ties with the information broker. Identifying a rapid transit terminal, he proceeded towards it, hanging around as he waited for a public shuttle to arrive. He glimpsed at his omni-tool for the time, shaking his head at Rapid Transit's failure to adhere to their own slogan. Every ten minutes, my ass.

People stared. Not that she cared as she readied herself to tread past the crowd; her shaved-head and slender tattooed figure made her distinguishable from those around her. She stopped dead in her tracks, recalling that the door she had been heading towards would bring her straight into C-Sec's offices. "Shi-"

She stopped mid-curse, arching an eyebrow the instant she spotted her olive-skinned squadmate stepping into a public shuttle. A transitory query as to where the man was going entered her mind before it was quickly forgotten while she imitated his method of avoiding C-Sec by use of the Rapid Transit. Her thoughts went to what she planned to do for her shore leave – fight, drink, and fight some more at any one of the seedy dive bars in the Lower Wards. She leered, "This is going to a fucking great day."

People were congregated throughout the vicinity of the Dark Star Lounge, all waiting for someone prominent to either arrive or depart from the festivities inside. Sliding on a pair of Aviator sunglasses, Jason passed through the crowd. A massive elcor was positioned in front of the entrances, acting as a bouncer similar to the one he had seen on Omega, while a turian usher stood beside him. He pointed to the datapad that the usher held, "Franco Laski."

A nod of assent from the turian for him to go through instigated a number of cameras to flash, attempting to get a shot of the man who managed to get into the luminary-filled event as he proceeded inside.

The lounge was packed, undoubtedly past its room capacity as various species mingled, drank, and danced - overall, they reveled thoughtlessly, paying no heed to the world outside of Dark Star. Look for a grubby, balding middle-aged man. Grubby, balding… Ron Guilesow's image occupied the undercover Vanguard's concentration as he circulated the bacchanalia in search of the allegedly rogue Cerberus agent. He procured a new glass of liquor from a drunken bystander on the verge of collapsing from his inebriation, "You've had enough."

He had already walked away when the man had detected the absence and reacted with a bout of confusion, accusing those around him of taking his precious alcohol. Grubby and balding, he pinpointed the target of his mission speaking with a stranger near the bar, so he weaved through the crowd, positioning himself at the bar to be within hearing range of the conversation. Downing the liquor he held, he placed the glass on the counter, raising a hand for the drink to be refilled as he closed his eyes to allow his senses to concentrate on his hearing.

"- is possible? He sounds dangerous." A hesitant voice doubted. Guilesow, I'm guessing?

"Dark Star and its surrounding area are completely covered. There is no possibility for escape." An emotionless response came from whom Jason discerned as the stranger. Covered? No escape?

Guilesow's voice dropped into a whisper, "Why would the Shadow Broker go through such lengths to get him?"

Jason's eyes flew open upon his former employer's title being spoken. Shit. His thoughts flitted from one supposition to the next about what the Shadow Broker planned to do to him alongside his thoughts on how he was to escape from the lounge in exchange for somewhere secure.

"After all the resources and time the Broker has invested on Sterling, he's an imperative."

Author's note:

Do review! It would be great to know what people think of the story so far and what you think is coming.