A/N: Do NOT ask me where this first scene came from. Fuck if I know.
Shepard ran through the pouring rain, tangles of twigs and branches etched against the sky with every flash of lightning, creaking and moaning with every howl of wind.
Distance. Her first priority was distance.
You run too far and too fast and you'll be winded, too exhausted to fight. That's the trap Hawkins fell into.
Half sliding down a muddy slope, Shepard's boots crashed into the low stream bed. Water sprayed in sheets as she sprinted up the creek, finally pausing beside an overhang to catch her breath. She was completely drenched. Her short black hair clung to her temples and cheeks, her fatigues soaked through.
She had no weapon, no compass, no omni-tool, no armor. Nothing but her clothes and her own wits. Wiping hair and rainwater from her face she looked upward. There was no telling how much time had already passed. She could feel it slipping away from her like sand through her fingers.
Stop and think. Remember your training. Hawkins winded himself on a flat sprint for the shuttle and didn't make it two thirds of the way. You're better than Hawkins.
A bright flash of lightning lit the stream bed like noonday a moment, before it died away. The rumbling growl of thunder that followed almost immediately sounded like a living beast on the hunt.
Kesterson made the mistake of trying to circle, take Rasler from behind, eliminate the threat directly. Kesterson fell. You are better than Kesterson.
The stream was running north to south, she remembered from the map. Unable to see sky or sun, it was her only orientation on direction. The grotto was north-east of here, another few miles. The shuttle would be waiting. Not daring to linger any further, Shepard bolted from her momentary hiding spot and clambered up the slope for the woods once again.
You are leaving tracks, Shepard, Rasler's voice echoed through her head. Do the world a favor and paste a goddamn neon arrow over your head instead!
Shut the fuck up, Rasler! Your shit don't sparkle!
Shepard couldn't help the feral grin that spread over her face at that memory. It had earned her a black eye…and a whiskey. That whiskey was fucking golden.
Two years and Rasler has never failed to take down her target. I am better than Rasler.
That affirmation was a bit harder to convince herself of. She was better than Kesterson and Hawkins. Her scores were top of her class, she left the both of them in the dust, time and time again. Kesterson might actually make N7 by the narrowest of margins but she didn't hold out much hope for Hawkins. Rasler, however…that was another story. Rasler was fucking ice and stone. Rasler was better than good. Rasler was a goddamn legend.
Shepard knew she would make N7. It was all but guaran-fucking-teed…but that wasn't good enough. She was going to make it to that shuttle, goddamnit. She was going to be the fucking first.
The lightning had started to die down but the rain continued to pour as Shepard stopped for breath again. By her estimates, she was less than half a mile from the grotto…and the shuttle. So far there hadn't been a single goddamn sign of Rasler. Pressing herself against a tree, Shepard took stock.
Ok, think. The heavy rain is going to wash away most of your trail but Rasler's a fucking bloodhound, even without her gear. Besides, she doesn't have to find your path…she knows where you're going. If she was smart…and Rasler is fucking smart…she'd completely ignore tracking you directly and simply go directly to the shuttle, make herself a snug little hiding spot, and peg you right between the goddamn eyes the moment you show your face.
Looking around the tree, she surveyed the landscape a moment, before she started working her way carefully away from the shuttle and up along a high rocky ridge. Split and cracked from an earthquake years ago, the ridge was ragged and lanced with gaps and holes. Fingers scratched and bleeding, she eased her way over the sharp edge and down a bit, before slipping into one of those gaps. It was a tight fit, but her years of crawling through vents were not so far away, and Shepard slithered within with deceptive ease.
Remaining still and cramped back as deep in the dark as she could, she waited for a long while, slowly counting off the time to herself. If Rasler had spotted her along the ridge, or happened to see her slip over the rocks, she might deduce her hiding spot. Shepard didn't want to give it away.
Half an hour crawled past while Shepard counted. The rain started to slack from deluge to drizzle, and the cold wind trying to claw her out of her hiding spot whispered away to find new prey. Shepard was still soaked, unbelievably cold, and the rock leaching her heat from her was not helping. Finally she dared inch forward, peering carefully out of the hole.
From this vantage she could see down into the grotto. Clear of vegetation for at least fifty yards around, she could see the waiting shuttle. There was no cover between it and the tree-line. Anyone watching over the area would have a clear line of sight for anyone trying to make it to the vehicle. Hell, if Shepard had her sniper on her right now, she could have pegged a mouse trying to scamper over the bare dirt.
Outside of this no-man's land were rocks dripping with ferns, lichen, and slippery moss. They formed broken ranks on all ends, rising up to the very ridge where Shepard was now ensconced. Tall, old pine trees, most naked of branches save for their very tops, leaned like drunken old men among the stones.
"That fucking bitch," Shepard whispered to herself as she glared. Just as she'd thought, Rasler was not hiding, not lurking. She sat only a yard or two away from the door of the shuttle itself, rifle at hand, a comfortable fire burning not a foot away.
Keep it smart, keep it simple. Complicated strategies only means more things can go wrong. Make use of all tools at your command at all times. Your environment, your body, and most of all, your goddamn brain. There is no survival of the strongest, just survival of the smartest. Be smart and you won't lose.
Rasler was being smart, planting herself exactly where she knew Shepard was obliged to go. She knew her opponent was unarmed, wet, exhausted, and cold. Rasler had no armor on but she did have a shield generator clipped to her belt. Shepard could see it. Even crude weapons forged from what was on hand in the woods would have bounced harmlessly off of them.
Rasler had a fire, proof against the elements. She had her back covered with the shuttle. She had clear line of sight all around. Shepard could not make it across that open ground from any direction without Rasler having plenty of time to peg her.
Use all tools at your command. Be smart and you won't lose.
Shepard began to grin.
Twenty minutes later a heavy rattle of rock suddenly cascaded down from the ridge, drawing Rasler's gaze. The woman stood up, rifle ready. She didn't make the mistake of fixing her eyes to the miniature landslide, knowing full well it could be a distraction. Her stern amber eyes swept the entire clearing, but snapped back to the ridge as she heard a grunting wail of pain.
That was no distraction, no faked cry. Shepard wasn't that good an actress and Rasler's ears were as good as her eyes. Real pain was in that sound.
Rifle to her shoulder and ready, she moved forward toward the base of the ridge, climbing over broken rock with all the ease of a mountain goat, never once lowering her weapon. She spotted Shepard almost immediately, the girl collapsed on the ground in a half-sit, cradling a badly bleeding arm against her chest. Her teeth were grit as she glared at Rasler, and the older girl could see bone jutting out of a gash on Shepard's forearm.
"Fuck," Shepard spat as Rasler lifted her brows, lowering her rifle.
"Slip?" she asked with a chuckle and a head-shake.
"Fuck you," Shepard snorted. "Goddamn rocks were wet. I was goddamn close!"
"Yeah," Rasler smirked. "You're not the first grunt that got a bone shattered trying for my shuttle."
Setting her weapon aside she reached for her ear bud. "Base this is Specialist Rasler. I need a medical evac team to-"
She barked, a boot crashing hard into her gut even as Shepard snatched hold of the rifle with her good hand. Not expecting the blow, Rasler's foot slipped on the slick rock and she crashed back to the ground with enough force to make her see stars a moment.
Bam. Bam.
The rifle ignited twice, its bark punctuating the pair of bruising slaps that whipped into Rasler's chest. Coughing, she looked down in surprise at the bright green paint splatters, one perfectly over her heart, before she gaped up at Shepard's taut grin.
Without a word Shepard stepped past Rasler and trotted for the shuttle, casting aside the paint rifle halfway there. Triumphantly she slapped the door release with her good hand, and as the shuttle opened she cast a shit-eating grin over at Rasler, who had managed to get to her feet.
"You broke your own arm? On purpose?" Rasler demanded as she strode over, picking up her rifle on the way.
Shepard shrugged. "Use all tools at your disposal, survive at all costs. I knew I wasn't getting past without drawing your attention so…I drew your attention."
Rasler smirked. "And what's a broken bone compared to your life, right? Not bad, Delilah. Not fucking bad at all."
"Why, thank you Sydney," Shepard shot back with a grin. "Now, can we get back to base before I fucking bleed to death?"
Normandy, Current
The stars shone steadily above her as Shepard lay back on her bed in the Nest, looking upward through the observation portal. Normally she kept the shutters closed. The 'skylight' was a structural weakness that never would have flown on an actual military vessel, but there were times that she liked to just lay there and look out, find some measure of peace in the abyss that had once claimed her.
Idly she realized she was rubbing her left arm, where she'd broken it all those years ago. There was no scar, of course. Even if one had been left, her regeneration with Lazarus would have erased it as it had the others. Though it had been a long time she could almost still feel the rain-slicked rock as she wedged her hand and wrist between two heavy stones. She could almost feel the sharp, white-hot crack as she then threw her entire body weight to the side, forcing her trapped arm at such a sudden and violent angle she'd instantly snapped her ulna, tearing it through the skin.
What was a broken arm compared to death, after all? If Sydney had been an actual enemy, sporting actual bullets instead of paintballs, a broken arm was small in comparison to death.
Of course, if she'd been an actual enemy she would have shot the wounded Shepard in the head rather than call for a shuttle evac, a fact she pointed out only half a day after the incident occurred. Shepard then pointed out that's what she should have done then. Wound or no wound, she should have pegged Shepard and then called for the shuttle evac.
Sydney had reluctantly conceded that point, and the first victory claimed over her in two years of teaching survival courses to N7 candidates.
"You are also dissembling," Kelly pointed out, taking a sip of her own drink. "Trying to distract me from the question I asked…which you still have not answered. Was there anyone else that you had a romantic connection to, prior to meeting Dr. T'Soni?"
Shepard glowered a little, stumping her spent cigar out a bit more firmly than necessary in the tray. "No," she said.
"You're lying."
Hand dropping away from her arm it shifted to scritch Rat behind the ears, the rodent curled up and half-dozing on her stomach.
Struggle as she might against them, thoughts of Liara kept returning, their last conversation running over and over again in her head, mingling with that unanswered question Kelly had asked, until everything was simple confused chaos. She wished it would all just shut up and go away.
{Shepard, we have something,} Miranda's voice suddenly broke through on the comm. Scooping Rat up Shepard got to her feet, slipping the animal back into her habitat.
"Go."
{Downloading intel directly to your terminal now.}
Accessing the file downloads, watching them scroll past, Shepard simultaneously pulled up communications, not allowing herself to hesitate as she connected to Liara's office.
The asari's eyes fixed to the ident of the call coming in, measuring silently for a moment. More than one emotion showed in their depths before they closed.
A beat. A breath. They opened again, and Liara rose from her chair, accessing the call and transferring it to her wall screen.
"Shepard," she greeted as neutrally as she could, blue eyes meeting brown as the human woman appeared.
"Liara." Shepard's response sounded just as neutral, her expression distant and stoic. Liara touched her fingertips to her desk, doing her best to look every inch the professional. It was not easy when every cell of her body wanted to weep, to both beg forgiveness and to grant it.
"It is…good to see you again," Liara managed. "I am sorry our last meeting did not end on the best note."
"Li, Miranda told me the truth…about Feron. About what you did to retrieve my remains."
Here it came. The fury, the accusations. How could you, Liara? How could you turn me over to terrorists to experiment with like some kind of lab animal? I was better off dead!
"Shepard, I am…I am sorry, I…I knew how you felt about Cerberus-"
Shepard shook her head lightly. "It's…not important right now, Li. What's important is your friend. Miranda pulled all intel Cerberus has access to regarding the Shadow Broker. It's slim but we found something that may help you to find him. Open a link and I'll upload all the files to you now."
"Y-yes," Liara responded, taken aback. Glancing at her console, her fingers fumbled over the commands as she opened the link. "I am ready on this end."
"Files uploading now," Shepard affirmed, and moments later information began to scroll over Liara's desk screen. Sifting over it, she could feel her heart speed again.
"There…it looks like some leaked communications data between Shadow Broker agents. There are some actual hints here as to location and…and Feron's name! It's about Feron! He's…by the Goddess, I think he's still alive…"
Looking back up at Shepard her eyes were gloss. "I think this may be exactly what I need, Shepard. I…I cannot believe…I need to cross-reference this with my intelligence network, see if I can't connect a few dots, get a solid location. I think I can…no, no, I am sure I can finally locate the Broker's main base with these pieces, it is only a matter of time."
"What do you need from me?" Shepard asked.
"Shepard, this is already so much-"
"No," Shepard said sternly. "We're at your disposal, Liara. Me, the Normandy, anything you need. Your friend isn't staying in the Broker's hands a second longer. This isn't a fucking option. Now. What do you need from me?"
That familiar conviction in her voice, that take-no-argument tone…that was what Liara had never been able to truly mimic or perfect in her two years of trying. Hearing it now brought an ache to her chest, heat to her eyes.
By the Goddess, Shepard…how much I have missed you…
"Y-yes," she conceded softly. "All right. I have to go over this in more detail, put a plan together, follow this trail but…w-why don't you come by later tonight? You can come to my apartment. I will show you what I have come up with and we can form a solid plan…a-all right?"
Shepard nodded. "Send me your address. I'll be there."
"Thank you, Shepard, I…th-thank you," she murmured, sending the address back to the Normandy. "I…I will see you tonight."
She cut the call before she could lose her composure altogether. Transferring the files to an OSD she slipped it in her pocket and quickly gathered her things. She would have to call Sekat. He was the one who would most likely be able to extrapolate a location from this information and their previous findings. He would also be the fastest.
Things gathered, she last touched the collar of her shirt, unconsciously feeling the comforting sensation of metal beneath it against her skin…a habit she had developed over the last two years. The motion helped to center her, and a moment later, she was gone.
Shepard took the Normandy's shuttle down, but she asked them to drop her off three blocks away, and walked the remaining distance. Most of the way she argued that she wasn't actually procrastinating, but she felt she needed the extra few minutes to her head straight, get herself convicted.
This is all business. You're helping her out, that's all. Get the job done. That's what you do, Shepard. Keep it professional.
Even here on Ilium, a world that liked to pretend they were more civil and sophisticated than a place like Omega, an armed human woman walking down an avenue barely drew a glance from passers-by. And she was armed. Marines were always armed, even when they called on old friends for business meetings.
Still, her machine pistols and her obligatory knife-in-the-boot were all she brought. She wasn't wearing a hard-suit or armor of any kind, but rather a pair of cargo pants, a loose gray t-shirt, and a corduroy jacket in army green. Nan's cross, rather awkwardly beaten back into a shape somewhat resembling its original, glimmered on her chest.
She hadn't brought her swagman this time but she did have her smokes. She did her best not to reach for one as she spotted Liara's building. She had the penthouse on the top floor.
When the lift doors parted and her brown eyes landed on the security line and the Blue Shirt standing just outside the open penthouse door, Shepard felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, a burst of actual fear tightening her chest. The sensation was far more than she ever would have expected, and she forced herself not to run, instead breaking into a fast walk as she strode up to the cop.
He was not, technically, a Blue Shirt…this being several light years from Earth and New York…but in Shepard's mind all cops were Blue Shirts, nonetheless. Even Garrus, a C-Sec agent, had been filed in her mind as a Blue Shirt at first.
Seeing her coming, the cop lifted his hand. "This is a restricted area."
"Restricted my mother-fucking ass," Shepard barked. "This is Dr. T'Soni's apartment. Where is she?"
"Ma'am, calm down," he retorted, laying his hand on the pistol on his hip.
"I'm a Spectre, you chun, and this is calm!" she snarled back. "Believe me, you don't want to see me not calm! Where's Liara? And don't even think about lifting that gun in my direction or I will drop you like math, dong ma?"
The turian looked over the human woman skeptically. "You're a Spectre," he scoffed. What little patience she had vanished, and Shepard headed for the door. Blinking, the turian foolishly tried to get in her way, lifting a hand toward her chest to halt her.
"You can't-"
A breath later he was flying through the door and into the apartment, slamming to the ground and tumbling to a halt. Three other security officers within spun around, drawing weapons and fixing them on the human civvie that strode in after him, as roiling and dark as a thundercloud.
"Hey! Stop right there! Who are-" one barked, only to be interrupted by a voice from the stairs.
"Officer Darkel, that's enough. Stand down. She's a Spectre."
Reluctantly the cops reshipped their weapons as Shepard's eyes fixed to the armored asari moving down from the apartment's upper level. She had the natural grace all asari possessed but her movements were the precise, confident motions of a militarian.
"Who the fuck are you?" Shepard asked hotly.
"My name is Tela Vasir," she replied evenly. "Special Tactics and Recon."
"You're a Spectre?"
"Just like you, Commander Shepard," the asari replied as she reached the ground floor. "Though not nearly as famous, I daresay. Nor as dead."
"Where's Liara? What's going on?"
"I don't know where she is. I'm trying to figure that out," Tela replied honestly. "Someone tried to kill your friend about an hour ago. Hence the bullet holes in the windows."
She gestured at the large picture windows nearby. Made of thick reinforced glass they still bore the unmistakable impact of gunfire.
"She was spotted leaving the building four minutes later…quite a gap considering someone is apparently trying to kill her," Tela added. "She did not seem to be wounded but was in an awful hurry. We need to figure out where she was going. The assassin may still be after her. Do you know any reason why someone would want her eliminated?"
"She had some intel on the Shadow Broker…his agents, maybe?"
Shepard was scrutinizing the holes in the glass, the patterns of the cracks they'd left behind. It was high-caliber sniper fire…apparently directed from the roof of a building nearby.
Someone tried to kill Liara. They could be on her tail right now.
"She knew I was coming here," Shepard said sternly, glaring at Tela. "You say she was spotted leaving four minutes after the gunshots? She would have left me a message, some kind of hint as to where she was going."
"We haven't been able to find a thing," Tela responded. "But please, look around. I'll clear security out. Not much they can do that we can't, anyway."
As Tela walked off Shepard planted her hands on her hips, closing her eyes a moment as she tried to center herself. All she could think of was that someone had tried to hurt Liara, was probably still trying to hurt her, right now.
Mind here, mind now, Shepard, she growled internally. Liara's smart, and she's been in hairy spots before. She's fought combat right beside you. She's no helpless, shrinking violet…far from. If you let fear cripple you, you'll be of no help to her at all.
A smaller, more timid voice only whispered that she couldn't lose her Tianlán. Not again, and definitely not like this.
Opening her eyes she looked around, trying to put herself into Liara's shoes. She'd want to leave a message but she wouldn't want the assassin to be able to find it, to know what her next move was.
The apartment was decorated somewhat spartanly but with excellent taste. Relics from her digs and various artistic items were sealed in their own air-tight cases, tasteful paintings adorning the walls. The living and dining areas and kitchen were on the lower level, a bedroom and private study on the upper. Figuring upstairs in a private area would be more a more likely spot for her to hide a message, Shepard started that direction, only to pause as one of the cases caught her eye.
Changing her trajectory she walked over to it, her brown eyes solemnly falling on what lay within. In the glass, she saw the reflection of Tela as the other woman approached.
"Most of these other pieces are Prothean relics," the asari woman commented. "This is…strange. What is it?"
"Part of my hard-suit," Shepard murmured.
But no…that wasn't exactly right. It wasn't just part of her hard-suit…it was part of the hard-suit. Only in spots was it recognizable as half of a chest-plate. It had clearly been horribly burned, half melted. She could see sharp lines where it had been cut by a laser saw.
This is the hard-suit I died in, she thought, feeling cold. Those cuts…that was Miranda sawing it off of my ruined body. And then…what? She hosed it off and sent it to Liara as some kind of…of twisted momento?
"Wow," Tela shook her head. "Someone really hated you, didn't they?"
Frowning, a thought niggling, Shepard crouched and began to run her fingers carefully over the display's pedestal. Catching sight of the tiniest shred of neurowire in the crease between the stand and the case itself, she narrowed her eyes.
Not DNA activated…she wouldn't have a sample to use to set it. Same for fingerprint…voice, perhaps? Plausible, if she had a long enough recording of my voice, but there would be a password. What would the password be…?
"See something?" Tela asked, but Shepard barely heard her, brows knitting as she ran her fingers over her lips a moment, then spoke.
"Tianlán."
There was a click, and a hidden compartment in the stand slid outward. Within was an OSD.
"Good, nice," Tela nodded, then pointed. "Her console's over here."
Shepard plucked out the OSD, heading to Liara's desk and sliding it into the drive. The directory pulled up and she squinted at it.
"Looks like a call log," she murmured, even as she selected the call.
As with the logs she had gotten from Nan's home on Freedom's Progress, the call only displayed one side of the conversation visually, but had recorded both sides auditorily. Liara was speaking to a salarian she addressed as Sekat. He informed her he had extrapolated the location information she needed and she replied that she would meet him at his office in the Dracon Trade Center. As the call ended, Shepard slipped the OSD out.
"The Trade Center is not too far from here," Tela said as both women simultaneously turned and headed for the door. "My car is on the roof. Let's go."
Shepard powered on her omni-tool as they broke into a jog, punching in the comm info for the Normandy and touching her ear bud. "Joker, this is Shepard."
{Shepard this is Normandy,} Joker replied as they hit the stairs and started up. {Got you loud and clear.}
"Someone took a shot at Liara," she reported. "I'm with another Spectre, we're heading for the Dracon Trade Center right now. I need Lawson and Goto on the ground there pronto, and tell them to bring me a goddamn hard-suit. I'm in civvies and have nothing but my charming smile between me and fuck-knows-what."
{Roger that, Commander.}
"Your ship docked?" Tela asked as they climbed into her skycar.
"Orbit," Shepard replied, strapping in.
"Gonna take them nearly fifteen to get a shuttle on the ground then. We'll be at the Trade Center in just over five."
She gunned the engine, the car lifting into the air.
The Trade Center was ten stories of gleaming commercial perfection, flanking two sides of a large plaza deep in the city's most elite neighborhoods. Dark had fully fallen as the skycar descended and landed in the plaza, Shepard out of it almost before it had touched ground.
"That salarian's offices are on the third floor," Tela said, checking her omni-tool as the two women headed toward the front doors. "I'm not getting any police reports abou-"
An invisible hand seemed to reach down and slap into them, swatting them off their feet and into the air as easily as a human might swat away a fly. The sound came a breath later, a slam of concussive noise so loud Shepard felt as if the sides of her skull had been crushed inward by the force.
She hit the ground hard, and with no armor to even remotely cushion the blow, took the full impact across the back of her shoulders. Pain rocketed through her spine and up through her skull, air evacuated, and for the briefest of moments, the world around her seemed to vanish in a flash of white.
As it snapped back into being, an agonizing breath drawing back into her lungs, Shepard struggled to push herself into a sit. Not a single soul who had been standing in the plaza was on their feet, everyone having been knocked flat. A few, like her, were dazedly recovering but the majority were still down.
Debris was scattered everywhere, some of it on fire. Great gluts of black smoke were belching out of the side of the trade center, but even through them, Shepard could see that three whole levels had been devastated by the explosion.
Still trying to steady her breathing, she coughed raggedly, gasping in the first real breath she'd been able to manage, even as the sight sank in and registered on her mind.
"No!" she rasped, and took a staggering step forward. A hand grasped at her arm and she swung around, slamming her fist into the shoulder pad of Tela's hard-suit, even as she tore her arm loose.
"Let go of me!" she snarled. "Liara's in there!"
She ran toward the smoke, weaving through the devastation, barely hearing Tela call after her. "I'll take the car to the roof! Work my way down from the top!"
Nearly tripping over what could have been anything from a chunk of debris to an injured civilian, Shepard didn't so much as slow.
"Liara!"
Bolting into the lobby, she looked around quickly. Everything was dark, debris and ruin everywhere, water pouring down from the fire-suppression systems. She heard it rumbling against her jacket and quickly peeled the heavy garment off, tossing it aside. It would only weigh her down as it got soaked, and could be used to tangle her up. Ripping her pistol off her hip she spotted the staircase and took off in that direction.
{Shepard? Shepard, what happened?} Miranda's voice suddenly barked in her ear, alarmed. The blast would have been seen for miles, and the nearing shuttle apparently hadn't missed it.
"Someone bombed the Trade Center!" Shepard shouted back, taking the steps two at a time, ignoring the firebrand of pain in her back and shoulders, ignoring the cold of the water soaking into her clothes. "Took out three floors trying to get to Liara!"
{We'll be on the ground in two minutes, Shepard…where are you?}
"Second floor!" Shepard barked as she hit the landing and turned the corner.
{You're in the building! Shepard, there could be mercenaries, assassins…you don't even have your hard-su-}
She cut off as Shepard slapped the ear bud off, making her ear ring all over again with the motion. She continued upward, nearly bowling over a pair of shell-shocked survivors who were hurrying their way downward. Skipping to keep her feet, she stumbled past them and pushed on, moments later bursting out into the third floor. Pistol up, she slapped her omni-tool on against her knee before lifting that hand to the butt of her weapon as well, gripping it. The omni-light cut through the heavy smoke and gloom, fixing on the same spot any shot fired from her weapon would land. She quickly cleared her corners, the light playing over fire-melted furniture, ruined decorations, shattered walls.
Water streamed down her face from the relentless artificial rain. Trying to pinpoint the direction the salarian's office was, Shepard turned to her right.
Gunfire bloomed out of the dark, the snap and drone of bullets hissing through the air only inches from her head. Darting down behind a half-collapsed partition, Shepard grit her teeth, then slapped her ear-bud back on.
"Vasir! I'm taking heavy fire!"
{Say 'hi' to the Shadow Broker's private army,} Vasir replied bitterly. {Upper floors are crawling with them. Your friend really pissed him off, didn't she?}
"Fuck," Shepard growled, and slapped off her omni-light again so as not to provide an obvious target. Inching along in a crouch, she reached the edge of the partition, listening closely to the gunfire. The same breath there was a lull, she swung out and raked the far end of the room with her own barrage. The machine pistol chewed through wood and debris, and she heard more than one cry of pain as shots hit armor or flesh. She ducked back again as the Broker mercs rained down hell once again, though this time their deluge seemed slightly lighter than before.
Li, I'm coming, Shepard grimaced, listening for another lull. I don't care if I have to throttle every one of these goddamn mercs with my bare fucking hands. I'm coming.