"You must forge your own path for it to mean anything."-Rick Riordan, The Lost Hero

September 7, 2171

The bright yellow skycar raced around buildings at frightening speeds. I'm sure the New York skyline would have been breathtaking if I didn't have a death grip on the leather upholstery. My gaze was locked on the windshield, as if my intent staring alone could stop us from crashing. We flew directly over a man, and I saw his face morph into a 'what the fuck' expression as we cut him off. Poor bastard.

"Naval Intelligence would like to formerly recruit you for your services." Kahlee said, as if it was no big deal. Cause really it was.

We swerved to avoid several slow moving airborne vehicles, no doubt breaking several traffic laws in the process. She was, without question, the most aggressive driver I've ever met. There was no way that some of these maneuvers were legal.

"Freaking hell, woman! Watch what you're doing!"

Kahlee looked genuinely taken back by my outburst. "Excuse you?"

My eyes screwed shut and I started humming to myself in an attempt to not think about how far above the ground we were. What was it 2000? 3000 feet?

"Are you humming to yourself?"

"Shh…" I mutter before continuing to hum ACDC.

My eyebrows drew together, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." I swear she was grinning.

"I can hear you smirking." I cracked my eye open and saw the damned smile on her face.

"Is the big bad adult afraid of flying? Happy birthday, by the way"

"Shut your cake hole. There's no reason why humans should be up this high up."

Kahlee's eyes glinted with amusement before turning serious once more, "Pay attention, kid. I'll say it again: Naval Intelligence is willing to offer you a place in their organization."

What? Is she serious? I questioned incredulously, trying not to contemplate how we just narrowly avoided plowing into the 22nd century equivalent to a semi truck, "You're kidding, right? If Naval Intelligence's idea of hiring someone involves blackmailing them, ratting on their best friend and then trying to pin the blame on him, then you guys might want to work on your sales pitch."

Kahlee sighed, and I had the distinct feeling that she knew I would react this way. And why shouldn't I? I had every right to be stubborn and difficult. "I had to pull a lot of strings to get you this deal, kid." She then turned to me with a frown, her expression slightly distracted, "I don't like this anymore than you do, but it's the best I could do. This way, Naval Intelligence can take you off their watch list and instead help you search for Ms. Shepard's family."

"Well, not to sound ungrateful, but I'd rather gargle battery acid than work for Naval Intelligence."

Kahlee forged on, ignoring my complaints. "Listen, it isn't so bad. They'll give you the means to survive and-"

"And if I refuse?"

"You won't," Kahlee stated with assurance, as if it were already fact. "Despite all your bravado, you barely have enough money to get off planet. Let alone purchase your own supplies and equipment."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence there, Sandy." Wait, they knew how much money I had? Why won't you people stop stalking me?! That's what I wanted to say. What I actually said was, "I'm heading to Omega to become a mercenary."

Kahlee fixed me with an unamused look, "So that you may parade around the galaxy with a gun and some credits in your pocket?" Kahlee questioned, her voice laced with disdain.

"Well, first I tried to become a jedi, but they weren't hiring." I gave a crooked grin, "So, y'know, ain't a lot of options." my stomach gave a sickening lurch when we flew straight under a holographic sign. "Hell! Please for the love of all that's good, watch where you're going!"

Of course, she completely ignored my protests.

"I've seen your test scores. You're better than that, kid." Kahlee gave me a sidelong look, her gaze filled with disapproval. "Most freelancers have had years of experience in some military or another and have had time to adapt to the battlefield. You would never survive in a mercenary group as you are now. They'd use you as canon fodder."

My hand drifted almost unconsciously towards my left side where the disfiguring scar was still burnt into the flesh of my skin, "Hey now, that just isn't true. I survived Mindoir just fine."

"You got lucky on Mindoir."

"Yeah, I get lucky all the time." A wide grin worked its way onto my face, "Sometimes I'm up all night to get lucky."

She gave me a deadpan look before jerking the controls to the side. Fuck! My hands shot out to brace myself and I'm sure my eyes were the size of dishes, but I was more worried about how close we just came to the oncoming lane.

"I need you to take this seriously, kid." Shit, she didn't need to be so sadistic about it! "You have no resources, no formal training, and no hope of making it in this galaxy. We're offering a solution to all those problems."

"Maybe you should just concentrate on driving and not scheming?" the suggestion slipped out, "Just until we're back on solid footing, huh?"

"Technically, it's flying." Smug sarcasm laced her tone. We scraped between two other vehicles.

"Would you just watch the lane! Flight path! Whatever it's called!"

Kahlee let out another put upon sigh, using the holographic controls to veer us sharply to the left and at a slight descent. Which also caused my stomach to shoot up somewhere way above our heads as we weaved through traffic.

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't an offer they extend to just anyone. I had to call in favors I never thought I would. Consider it carefully."

I clutched tightly at my armrests as the vehicle rocked dangerously, "So your just gonna give me some training and then send me into some of your spy games? That simple?"

"Nothing about us is ever that simple." Kahlee said without a hint of emotion.

My eyes shifted to her and, not for the first time, I wondered why she of all people is working for these assholes.

"And what about you, Sanders? How much are they paying you to pitch this load of crap?"

She didn't answer, not immediately. "The company skycar is a plus," her solemn tone caught me off guard. It wasn't the answer I was expecting.

"Huh," If I sounded skeptical, that's because I was. My gaze swept over the inside of the car. "Well, it ain't so bad besides the color. And the whole flying bit."

Kahlee snorted, "Yes, that's real leather you're sitting on."

"And besides the car?" I continued, "Why sell yourself to these sons of bitches?

She regarded me with an icy look, "I graduated from MIT at the top of my class." She began, "I could have acquired a job anywhere. The Alliance wasn't the most glamorous position, and certainly, not the best paying. The first project I signed on with ended with a factory explosion."

"Sounds like a good time."

Sanders regarded me blankly before smirking, "Of course that's one school of thought. The point is kid; these 'spy games', as you put it, I've had my fair share of practice with them. You think we're spooks and that's understandable, but sometimes spooks like me are the only ones between the Alliance and all the terrorists organizations, batarian pirates, and Council politics that plague humanity at every turn." Her icy gaze zoned in on me and I felt like she was lining me up through a scope.

A frown marred my face in response. "And what happens when they ask you to kill someone for them?"

"Then I kill someone," Kahlee's face was unreadable, but her expression seemed unconcerned. That's when it really hit home. This was not Kahlee from Grissom Academy, but Kahlee the Naval Intelligence operative. The soldier.

"Just like that, huh?"

She shrugged in cool indifference, "I know you may not understand right now, but we're the good guys. Naval Intelligence was formed to protect the Alliance."

That sounded a lot like Cerberus and pretty much every shadowy organization ever in the history of the galaxy. "Oh yeah, that's great if you're not too worried about who's calling the shots." I snorted, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"At least when I kill someone, it won't be for some paycheck." She bit out in annoyed retaliation.

I rubbed a hand across my jaw, not really wanting to talk about this anymore. "Whatever, Sandy. I just don't think it'd be a good fit for me."

"And killing people for a living is?" She snorted. "You're not a killer, kid. You don't have it in you."

The batarian's face raced through my mind, but I ruthlessly suppressed the memory with practiced efficiency, "Yeah, you're probably right. But I think I'll take my chances."

"The Alliance could use someone like you, kid. Naval Intelligence can give you direction. I know you feel lost and alone, but you don't have to be. We're here to help."

Lost and alone? What did she think I was? A child? I plastered a grin on my face, "Listen Kahlee, I don't know what you're talking about, but I ain't working for Naval Intelligence and that's that."

"Don't try that with me." Kahlee scoffed, "I lie professionally; I can see right through fake smiles."

The frustration that had been slowly building since this conversation began, boiled over, "What do you want me to do, Sanders? Let Naval Intelligence dictate my life? No thanks, I'd rather not have you people watching my every move until I bite the dust."

Sanders shook her head while her features closed off. Letting go of my mounting confusion and frustration, I tried to relax. She believed in Naval Intelligence. Certainly not in everything, but she trusted them. I would never be able to shake her faith, nor would she be able to convince me of their moral high ground. It was a stupid roundabout argument that people have been arguing for centuries and it wasn't about to be resolved in the cockpit of a canary yellow skycar.

"Whatever, Sanders. Just seems to me that with people like you working for them, Naval Intelligence wouldn't need someone like me."

Kahlee sighed, obviously still annoyed with the previous argument. "If you're such a smart kid, you figure it out. Why would we want to recruit an unknown such as yourself?"

I sat back with a slight scowl marring my features as I thought about her words. Why would they need someone like me? The Alliance doesn't even use mercenary work if they can help it. What makes Naval Intelligence want recruits when they already have an army at their fingertips?

Why hire someone with the survival skills and street smarts of a chihuahua?

God, this was worse than math.

"Shouldn't you people be tracking down Jason Bourne somewhere in Europe?" All I got was a blank look in response. Really needed to stop making 21st century movie references. I scratched behind my ear, muttering. "The hell if I know… Cause you want someone who is easily replaceable and can't be directly tied back to your little organization?" I began tentatively, as if answering a question posed by a teacher, "A deniable and expendable asset? Is that it?"

Kahlee awarded me with a slight smile of approval, making me feel just a bit proud and allowing the tension from our previous argument to fade away.

Then I realized what exactly they were implying and the tension came right back. I was about to tell her exactly where she could stick her offer, when I noticed the skycar in front of us rapidly filling up the window.

"Sweet Jesus, take the wheel!" I swear, it wasn't a high-pitched girly shriek. It was very manly… I'm really glad Jane didn't hear that.

Kahlee slammed on the brakes without even so much as flinching.

"Are you feeling alright, kid? You look pale."

"Bite me, Sanders." I growled trying to regain my composure as my heart was still racing at an unsafe rate.

"I didn't know your voice could go that high."

"Bite. Me."

Kahlee chuckled and I resumed humming to calm my nerves.

"Just consider it, kid. We can help you find Jane's family."

A frown marred my face, as I tried to ignore my unease towards the entire deal. Being indebted to a shadowy organization was not how I envisioned starting my new life. But I did need allies. People I could count to help me in my mission of preparing the galaxy for the Reapers.

I had really taken Jane's friendship for granted (not that I'd ever admit that to her). We pushed each other forward with the single-minded purpose of surviving. The stoic red-head had been such a constant in my new life, I hadn't even considered what I would do if we ever got separated. Shepard was just so damn annoyingly… there. Sure, she had been a ruthless mute in everything but name, but she had been my best friend of a ruthless mute.

And now she was gone.

And I still had to save the galaxy from the Reapers, get stronger, rescue her family… All things that would be easier with a bit of assistance. Assistance that Naval Intelligence seemed to be offering.

Only problem was that I had to practically sell my soul in the process.

Perceptive is not usually how I would describe myself, but I've had seen enough spy shows and movies to know how this would play out. They wanted to keep a closer eye on me and what better way to do that than to recruit me? Shepard's family was just a bargaining chip, one that they probably had no intention of giving up until they deemed fit. They probably never would. Why would they? I sure as hell wouldn't. Especially since I'd drop everything as soon as I got that information.

Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I didn't buy it. This whole deal was a bit too convenient for my taste.

If it was too good to be true, chances are it was.

The Shadow Broker would probably be no better. I'd end up working half my life away, waiting for the kingpins and authority figures to decide it was worth giving me a handout.

It all came down to trust. And I didn't trust them not to have some scheme planned out.

Besides that, being a spy sounded complicated. And I just wasn't that complex of a person. My nature wasn't to spy and gently prod things along in the right direction. I was a blunt tool, not a scalpel. I couldn't be Patrick Grayson. Whatever he had, I just didn't.

I know what you're thinking; I should take the deal. This was one of those once in a lifetime deals that you didn't really want to pass up. Ever.

But I didn't want to take. Call it some warped sense of pride or maybe just the general stupidity that seemed to run thick in my family. Really call it whatever you'd like. Fact of the matter is, I wanted to take on the galaxy on my terms; no debts and no obligations weighing me down. Kinda ironic considering I already had an obligation to Jane and her family, though I digress. And I didn't need to get leashed by Naval Intelligence in order to find them, thank you very much.

Their deal would probably have won me over if I was just some stupid war orphan with no place to go. Now that I thought about it, the way they set this up was brilliant. Separate Jane and I, knowing she was the better fighter by far, leaving me with the daunting task of earning a living as a freelancer and tracking down his best friend's family. Pressure like that would have made most people to leap at a deal like this without thinking.

I had given this a lot of thought, though, and I had options and plans and couldn't afford to just leap at handouts.

"Do we have a deal?"

Still, it was a tempting offer. No denying that. Even if they didn't give me the information I was looking for, I'd have plenty of opportunities as a spy to influence the galaxy. Working with Kahlee would also be a plus. She has proven to be a friend, even if we didn't agree on a couple things.

But I couldn't trust her. Not like Jane. Kahlee believed too much in the Alliance. If it ever came down to it, she wouldn't stand with me.

What would Jane do?

A smirk tugged across my face. I knew what she would do. She'd tell them to fuck off and give them a painful kick in the shin.

"I need an answer, Carter." My eyes opened in time to see us pull up to a curb. The docks stretched out before us. Hundreds of people bustled around the spaceport, the galaxy laid out before them.

"Sorry Sandy, but I'll have to pass. You know how I like my privacy. Not really the 'James Bond' type, either so…" Her gaze was glacial and her jaw seemed to tighten. Maybe it's best I make a hasty retreat. With a mumbled, "Thanks for the ride." I moved to pop open the top of the skycar and stepping/falling out of the ungodly bright vehicle.

I felt a hand tighten around my wrist and turned back to meet her fierce gaze, "Don't do this to yourself, kid. I'm trying to help you out here. There's no reconsidering. Step towards that spaceport and this door shuts forever."

"Well, if it's that big of a deal, I'll send them a freaking thank you card," I tried to shake off her grip, but it remained constricting and unbreakable. "I appreciate all you've done for me, Sanders, but you that kind of life just isn't my style. To much thinking involved." I pause for a second, before giving to her with a wry grin. "Though if Naval Intelligence has any mercenary work that needs doing, feel free to hire me once I've made a name for myself. Just for future reference, I accept my payments in pudding. Preferably salted carmel, but any flavor is good."

Her eyes emptied of emotion, "This whole 'tough guy' act? It's stupid and will probably get you killed."

"What's so tough about pudding?" It wasn't hard avoiding her gaze. It was like ice at the moment. "It's a delicious dessert dish. You should have some, maybe get you to loosen up a bit."

"Get your head out of clouds, kid!" Kahlee hissed, "These aren't the type of people you want to screw with. If you're not with them-"

"I'm against them?" I let loose a scoff, "Yeah, right. Consider me warned. You should try a bit of rebellion every now and again, Sanders. Might do you some good, y'know?"

Pushing myself away from the skycar, I turned to meet her disapproving gaze, "Asking for a little assistance is never something to shy away from. Especially when you don't even comprehend the galaxy you're heading into."

"C'mon give me some credit, Sandy." Grinning, and trying to set us both at ease, "I can handle myself just fine." No I can't. I'm full on lying through my teeth here, but she doesn't need to know that.

Kahlee sighed before shaking her head.

Without warning she reached over the passenger side, grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt, and pulled my head down to her level.

"Hey! Whoa! You have to buy me dinner first!" I protested as I felt something cold and metallic slip into my ear. She then let me go and I stood up so fast that I nearly hit my head against the roof of the skycar. "What was that for?" I rubbed at my ear, and my fingers met with a cool metallic surface that fit into my ear perfectly. Though it was strange, it didn't seem to be hindering my hearing at all. If anything the bustling and shouting of the busy sidewalk actually got… clearer.

Sanders rolled her eyes, already typing away at her omni-tool, "Relax, kid. It's a translator. You may not want our help, but I'll be damned if I don't at least see you off with something useful."

My omni-tool then lit up and I glanced down to see it open to my contacts page. There in big neon letters was a name; 'Kahlee Sanders'.

"Did you just hack my omni-tool?" I rounded on Sanders with a half-hearted glare, but all she did was smirk in response.

"Don't flatter yourself. If I wanted to hack your omni-tool it would have taken me much less time then that. I simply sent you my contact info. This way, I can contact you about any jobs that might interest you."

I thought for a second before asking, "Could you also do me a favor?"

She inclined her head, motioning for me to continue.

"Can you send me any info that you can on the Blue Suns. Leaders, tactics, bases. Stuff like that."

She gave me a hard stare, "What are you planning to do with said information, kid?"

"Just thinking of joining up." I lied.

She sighed, "You'll have to be honest with me if you want that kind of information.

I looked away, scratching the back of my neck, "Well, it's more for a friend of mine. But if I can get the info now the next job you send my way I'll do for free. How about that?"

She continued drilling me with her eyes, "Anything that's not strictly classified, I can pass onto you. But be careful, kid."

I smiled, "Thanks, Sandy."

"Forget it. This is the best I can come up with at such short notice. Hopefully my superiors will see it that way as well. And quit calling me Sandy. You and your girlfriend can have all the pet names you want, but I refuse to be degraded."

A genuine grin broke across my features. "I mean it, Sanders. Thanks. For everything."
Sanders regarded me blankly, before nodding. "Don't mention it, Mr. Carter. I'm just doing my job."

The tinted windows of her skycar closed back into place and the absurdly bright vehicle sped off once more and I had the strangest feeling that this wasn't the last time the blond and I would cross paths.

Well, thats that then. With a shrug of my shoulders, I headed deeper into the spaceport. It was just a feeling. Hated those weird feelings. They always meant more trouble for me. And it looked like I had enough trouble to deal with. Didn't need anymore, thank you very much.

Then I realized what exactly she said and I frowned in confusion.

Wait… What girlfriend?

September 28, 2171

Omega.

The mined out husk of a metallic asteroid. The station has been a haven for terrorists, malcontents, and criminals for the past thousands of years. A hub of weapons, eezo, and narcotics trafficking without even the pretense of government or military control. This place was filled with the worst scum in the galaxy; rapists, slavers, pirates, thieves, and murderers and sometimes all of the above. A guy could be killed just for looking at the wrong person the wrong way.

Stretching my limbs, I exited the frigate with a broad grin.

My kind of place.

In all seriousness though, this station while not a tourist hotspot, wasn't all that bad. Sure, there was a lot of crime, absurd amounts of drug and slave exchange and violence roaring through the streets like the freaking black plague, but as long as I followed the few simple guidelines I should be alright.

Rule 1: Don't fuck with Aria.

Rule 2: Don't screw with the merc groups unless prepared for the consequences i.e. Garrus got his face blown off. Whatever he did, don't.

Rule 3: Don't accept drugs from strangers. Peer pressure is bad and so is red sand. Also Hallex. That stuff will full on 'Scar face' you. Just say no.

Rule 4: Whatever you do, don't try to sleep with an asari or pretty much any biotic of any species. Remember Morinth. Any chick that can kill you with their mind is not worth flirting with. C'mon man, that's logic. Don't do it.

It seemed simple enough. As long as I didn't do any of those four things I should be fine.

…Knowing me, all those rules would be broken within a week.

But it'd be a fucking awesome week.

First things first. I needed to learn how to be a decent merc. Luckily, I knew who could teach me.

Whether he'd willingly help or not, was another matter entirely.

Small steps. Carter. Small steps.

I worked my way around a mixed crowd of aliens with familiar ease, checking my pockets every once and a while to make sure I hadn't been pick pocketed (cause that would be a real shit way to start my career as a merc). My lungs filled with the urban and metallic scent of the station as a imposing structures rose out from the trash and filth cluttered streets.

The rest of the crowds funneled out of the docking area, jostling around me. I became painfully aware that my height made me stick out in the crowd, no matter how much I tried to slouch. Nowhere near the size of a krogan that could ward off unwanted attention with their mere presence, but just large enough to pick out in a crowd of other mixed aliens.

The architecture was the oddest part of the station. It was hard to describe. The place reminded me a bit of how the lower levels of New York felt only you could tell that the station was much much older. Centuries older. Over the railings of walkways, slums could be seen dotting the lower levels were pinpricks of firelights burned like the neon signs above, even as the skyscrapers stretched up around them and into the hanging smog and darkness.

A lot of bright holograms blared everywhere you turned. Flickering advertisements were spelled out in alien tongues and while the cacophony of voices filled the area. The translator in my ear was hard pressed to decipher the entire mess.

And finally, the crowds fanned out into a wider area that didn't feel nearly as cramped.

My neck craned back as I got a good look at the club that stood resolutely in front of me. It was bigger than I expected. Omega's main base of operations for the Asari syndicate. Aria's throne and symbol of power.

Afterlife.

Hunching my shoulders, I strode towards one of the few safe havens of Omega.

Well, relatively safe.

The pumping electric music immediately assaulted my ears upon entering the club. Bright, disorienting lights seemed to flash from every angle, illuminating the asari dancers as they moved with fluid and catlike grace. A batarian bouncer broke the arm of some turian that was ridiculously wasted, as a pack of krogan prowled at the edges of the club, glaring at anyone that got too close. There were very few humans (understandable, considering humanity was still relatively new to the galactic stage), that dotted the dance floor.

Striding forward with a small smile flitting across my face, I leaned against the guard railing and looked across the bar.

And it was a sight to see. I'm not much of a nightclub kind of guy, but even I have to appreciate the raw energy and that Afterlife seemed to pulse.

Turning away, I pulled the duffel closer to myself and walked further into the club. Contrary to what Sanders and Jane seemed to believe, I did have an idea of what I was doing.

Phase one of 'Save Galaxy' was now in progress.

How hard could it be to find one mercenary on Omega, anyways?

Sitting down at the bar, my gaze managed to pick out Aria's loft.

She'd have the info I was looking for, no doubt about that. I had briefly entertained the thought of working for her. However, there were a few things wrong with that plan, not the least of which being that she had no reason to hire an untrained, untested mercenary such as myself. Also, that would lead to me being indebted to the asari and that would be no better then working for Naval Intelligence. I shook my head, that path was, unfortunately closed off from me.

The asari bartender made her way over. She gave me a bright grin and I immediately felt at ease. "Well, well, well, what brings a cute thing like you to this side of the galaxy?"

I felt my face heat up and looked away from her deep purple gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle because damn. Asari are hot.

Focus Carter. Remember Rule 4.

"Just looking for a drink." I held up a credit chit and then slid it across the counter. "And some information." Bartenders were the best source of cheap information without having to go to Aria or the Shadow Broker. Bartenders kept their ears open and every drunk would love to chat up an attractive bartender like her.

The asari's hand passed over the chit and it disappeared. I smirked. Neat trick. "What kind of information?" She asked playfully.

"I'm looking for a mercenary."

"Oh yes, that's specific." The asari bent down to retrieve a bottle from below the bar and came back up grinning. I grinned back.

I like her. She's got my brand of sarcasm.

"He's an old guy. Name's Zaeed Massani. Human like me, but not as cute. You seen him?"

The bottle was set down and she poured me a shot, "Heard of him," asari hummed in a silky smooth voice that wasn't at all unpleasant. "He isn't often on this side of Omega. If I were you, I'd try Rieker's Nest in the Kenzo district."

"And the Kenzo District is…?" I took the shot and the familiar taste of alcohol went down like fire. Huh, maybe a rum?

The asari gave me a sly smile, "New to Omega? Don't you worry. We all started somewhere after all." She turned away from the bar to help another patron and then wandered back over, "Kenzo District is seven levels down. Follow the walkways and you'll get there without too much trouble."

I grinned, "Heh, just follow the yellow brick road, right?" The asari cocked her head in confusion. And another solid reference wasted, "Never mind."

"Mind yourself, fledgeling. Compared to the scum down there, people up here are regular upstanding citizens."

"Hey, I'm the very essence of caution ."

"I get the impression that you're lying."

"Yep." I nodded my thanks and polished off another shot before heading off for the nearest lift, making a quick stop at the market area on this level to buy a standard pistol. It's all I could afford without completely going broke. I definitely didn't have enough for a kinetic barrier or a hard suit. Those would have to come later.

Reiker's Nest wasn't nearly as hard to find as I had thought.

Maneuvering through the alleys and streets of Omega without getting jumped, was another matter entirely. The Nest was located in the slums and the path their didn't exactly pass through the best neighborhoods. I could feel eyes on me at all times. Sunken, beady eyes, that seemed to all scream one thing; 'Is it worth the effort killing and robbing you?'

That prompted me to hunch over in an attempt to appear nondescript. My size didn't exactly help in this area, but it couldn't hurt to try. The newly acquired pistol was tucked into the waistband of my pants and hidden beneath my sweatshirt seeing as how I had nowhere to attach it. My hand went to my pocket where the swiss army knife was located and, after feeling the light weight of the tool, I missed the weight of a rifle in my hands once more. The pistol was a step up, but the rifle would have made me feel better.

It probably didn't help that the only light source was the illuminated haze of smog that hung in the atmosphere like a cloud. The walkways were in a state of disrepair, and seemed to be held up by sheer force of will. Dark buildings were covered in rust with sheets of metal tacked onto the side, covering exposed and sparking wires and gaping holes which alien vermin most likely used to traverse the station. Everywhere you looked, there was some form of decay that was only repaired enough to still be operational.

And the smell, hell, it was as if thousands upon thousands of years worth of filth and depravity had melted and pooled into the very plating of the station, staining it forever with the metallic scent of smog and sweat and desperation.

I smirked slightly. I should have been a fucking poet.

After following the walkways a bit, the bar stood out in front of me. Resurrected from what might have been an ancient mining vent. Reiker's Nest.

The place appeared to be carved out of one of the giant structures that arced hundreds of feet into the upper levels of Omega. Melted and rusted circuit boards and support beams could be seen peeking out from the scorched and burnt metal around the doorway, and I wondered briefly if there would even be any electricity on the inside.

The doors hissed open and the sound of loud obnoxious voices replaced the relative quite of the slums. Shouts and jeers bounced off the walls of the darkened interior. My eyes swept over the crowds.

And the asari bartender's words finally sunk in.

They were mercenaries and pirates. All of them. Armed to the teeth with scars decorating visage. Covered in plated bodysuits and carrying firearms of different makes and models made to kill and maim.

Real glad I decided to spring for that pistol because there was no way a freaking pocket knife knife would protect me here.

My shoulders shrugged and I slouched down farther. Didn't matter, I knew how this worked. In a place like this, it was always better to just keep your head down and hope no one decided to single you out.

"Fresh meat!"

Of course there was always that one asshole.

Three vorcha slinked forwards from the back of the bar and surrounded me. The rest of the patrons gazed on with disinterest, turned back to their drinks, or resumed their quiet conversations.

"What's it doing here?" The lead vorcha hissed, "Is it lost?"

Holy hell, vorcha are even uglier in person. "C'mon guys. I don't got any money and I ain't looking for trouble." I answered as they began circling, their claws gleaming menacingly in the dim light. I felt at the blade in my pocket. This wasn't gonna end well, was it?

"It shouldn't have come then!" another vorcha snarled in response. And in my peripheral vision, the third vorcha launched himself towards me. I ducked just in time for his razor sharp hand to sail harmlessly overhead. That's when everything exploded into action.

Gotta give Jane credit for one thing, she sure quickened my reaction time. I turned on my heel and kicked at the knee of the guy that just tried to make my face a scratching post. The joint gave a sickening crack and the alien screeched in agony.

The other two vorcha charged forwards the moment I kicked out. As soon as the third vorcha collapsed from his probably dislocated knee, the other two tackled me to the ground. We hit the steel plated floor with a jarring thud that caused the back of my skull to throb and my pocket knife to skitter away from me.

Fuck! Really?! Once! Just once I'd like to use it.

A fist impacted into my stomach, leaving me winded, as another clawed at my shoulder, leaving a burning pain in it's wake. I cursed as they each pinned my arms and proceeded to beat the crap out of me.

Crack! A fist connected solidly with my face.

Crack! I felt one of my ribs creak from the strain of a punch.

Crack! Pain blossomed across my vision.

Giving a massive heave, I kneed one in the groin and freed one of my arms in the process. Lashing out, I punched the other in the face and felt his teeth break and shatter under my knuckles.

I rolled away, stumbling to my feet. But not before the one whose teeth I broke kicked me in the stomach, sending me backpedaling into the bar with grunt and allowing him time to rise to his feet with a snarl.

Of course the snarl turned into more of a lisp since all his front teeth are now lying on the floor.

The one I kneed was currently puking his guts out, but thats what he gets for wearing such flimsy armor.

Broken teeth drew a knife and began stalking towards me. "We're done playing!" he hissed threateningly.

My thoughts immediately went to the pistol at my waist, but I decided against it. That would just escalate things and I'll be damned if I'm the one to turn this bar fight into a bloodbath.

I glanced left and right for something to use as a weapon, 'cause there was no way I was gonna die in some meaningless pissing contest in a random bar on Omega. I grabbed a glass bottle away from the bar counter and wound back to smash the vorcha's face in if he came any closer. He continued stalking forwards, not at all impressed with my makeshift weapon.

Thinking for a second, I hit the bottle against the tabletop shattering the end and spilling it's contents onto the floor. Also making me feel like a bit of a badass. That caused Broken teeth to slow and look over the now jagged bottle with wary eyes.

"Give it a rest, Wisk." A low, flanging voice sounded behind me. "Use a gun if you're gonna kill him."

Fuck you too, man! I didn't dare glance behind me, not with the vorcha still advancing.

Wisk snarled angrily, as his two companions limped to stand on either side of him, drawing their own knives. "It needs to be shown it's place!"

"If it's any consolation; you look much prettier now." I smirked through a split lip and ragged breathing. This only caused the vorcha to hiss in unison. I probably shouldn't be trying to egg on this fight, (my stomach wasn't feeling too hot and I think I had a black eye) but the thrill of adrenaline was still coursing through my system and they were the ones that picked a fight with me.

Then again, vorcha were known to be territorial and communicate through violence… Still, they didn't have to be dicks about it.

A mechanical sound penetrated the rabble of the bar and I felt something being pressed against my back.

Oh hell, please let that be a gun.

"Now," He sounded like a turian, probably the bartender. A bartender with my life in his hands. That's a sobering thought. Glad I didn't drink too much of that rum. Might have done something stupid by now. Well, stupider. "You won't be causing any more problems, will you new blood?"

Pausing to bite back a snide response, I looked between the vorcha, waiting like vultures on the sidelines and at the other patrons that were still drinking and talking as if the situation panning out in front of them was completely invisible.

Murders on Omega were daily occurrences, one more dead body wouldn't worry anyone.

These guys really didn't give a shit.

We're not in Kansas anymore, Carter.

"No, sir."

The cool metal of the gun pulled away from me, "There you have it, Wisk. The human knows his place."

The vorcha sneered, or least I think they sneered, and sheathed their knives before walking towards the back of the bar. I watched them go, before turning back to face my savior/assailant.

The dark plated turian was polishing a pistol, looking completely unworried by what transpired, "You'll be paying for that."

I blinked, before furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. What was he talking about?

His head inclined slightly to the broken bottle still clenched in my fist. "That's turian fire whiskey and costs more than your life's worth. I'll be needing compensation."

Oh. Really?

I drew a credit chit from my pack and transferred what little credits I had left onto the chip before tossing it to him. "Hey, uh, thanks for the save."

"Touch my liquor again, new blood, and I'll put a bullet through your head." The turian replied casually, catching the chit before going back to polishing his pistol.

Well, isn't he pleasant. I crossed my arms over the bar, "Maybe you can help me out. I'm looking for Massani and heard he'd be around. Know where he is?"

"No." The bartender answered without even considering the question, "Now quit bleeding all over my bar and buy something or get the fuck out."

I missed the asari. She was nice to me.

I shrugged in response (instantly regretting the action as a small trail of blood ran from the cut in my shoulder) and grumbled, "Thanks anyways, dick." before turning to pick up my fallen knife, and wrap the bleeding claw marks across in gauze.

And that's when I saw him.

Zaeed Massani sat alone at a booth, with his feet kicked up on the table nursing a drink and reclining as if he were owned the entire bar.

I maneuvered around half drunk pirates and mercenaries and slid into Zaeed's booth. His odd eyes immediately focused on me.

"Ah shit." He slurred in an obviously drunk stupor. Great start. "What do you want?"

"You're Zaeed Massani." It was more of a statement then a question, but I needed to make sure it was him. Can't be making any assumptions here. Not with something like this.

"Good fucking job. You've passed your eye exam." Zaeed grumbled, tipping back his drink.

"I'm Matt Carter. I was hoping we could have a little chit-chat."

"If you're here to try and collect a bounty on my head you should have shot first." His eye narrowed on me, "If you're here to try and hire me, let me save you the goddamned trouble; you can't afford me."

"You haven't even heard what I gotta say yet." I arched my eyebrows after smelling the strong scent of liquor that clung to the man. "At least hear me out."

"I don't have to do a damned thing." Zaeed drained the last bit of the bottle and then threw it at the general direction of a trash can. The bottle shattered against the wall and added to the already impressive pile of broken glass culminating around that area.

The feeling of annoyance clawed at the edge my mind. Alright, this wasn't exactly going as planned, but it's not like I expected it to be easy. Best to get straight to the point then. "Y'know, I'm just trying to help you out here. I thought you might be looking for a bit of payback against your old pal Vido Santiago. But if you're not interested-"

I never got to finish as Zaeed had pulled out a pistol and was now resting it between the two of us. The barrel facing me. Is it sad that this is already the second time in two minutes that someone's drawn a firearm on me? Eh, probably.

"Don't fucking mention that gutless son of a whore." Zaeed slurred, "Not while I'm this goddamned drunk. I may accidentally shoot you by affixation."

My eyebrows raised, "Uh…Don't you mean association?"

The bounty hunter regarded me for a moment, "I may shoot you anyways." He then reached for a bottle that wasn't there, "Ah, fucking hell."

Dear god, it's like… like dealing with a drunk toddler. I raised my eyebrows and drummed the table, "Okay, this is heading nowhere fast. Give me second, I'll be right back."

"Unless you're bringing back booze, don't bother." Zaeed muttered, tilting his glassy gaze up towards the ceiling.

I went over to an adjacent table, grabbed a glass of water and walked back over to the drunken mercenary. His arm was slung over his eyes, the pistol still hanging from his grasp. Maybe he fell asleep.

Can't have that.

I splashed the water over him.

Alcohol was all well and good, but people were depending on me and I really didn't have time for this shit.

Zaeed shot up from his liquor induced coma, waving the pistol around wildly as water droplets shook from his enraged face, "Fucking hell, you goddamned, motherless, sonovabitch!"

I ducked under his wild swings, "No more crap, man." I stated, grabbing the man by the front of his armor and heaving him to his feet. To hell with this. Jane was counting on me. The freaking galaxy was depending on me. Dealing with some drunk, no matter how famous a mercenary he was, was not on my list of things to do. "We've both gotta a common enemy here. I'm gearing up to go after the Blue Suns but right now I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of taking them down. You're gonna help me change that."

"A maggot like you? Going against the Blue Suns?" Zaeed laughed harshly, roughly pushing me away. But something about him had changed. His eyes were brighter, more focused, less intoxicated. "Ha! That's fucking rich! Go back to whatever colony you came from, boy. Omega isn't for some goddamned kid barely old enough to shave. "

"You saw what I can do against those vorcha," I protested, gesturing to the front of the bar, "I can fight!"

Zaeed leaned back against table, crossing his arms over his chest. "That little initiation with Wisk? Barely qualifies as a pissing contest, if you ask me. You can take a beating, I'll give you that much."

"Take me on your next job then." Zaeed snorted, already turning away. "We don't even have to share the profits! Just let me show you that I'm serious about this. C'mon, man, what do you have to lose?"

Zaeed stared me down. It was a bit unnerving, with those eyes of his. There wasn't a hint of warmth there. Just cold calculating indifference. My argument should work. He was a mercenary; he may not give a shit about me, but the prospect of having a extra hand on his next job, free of charge, should be enough. And the thought of getting back at Vido Santiago… That had to be tempting.

"What has Vido ever done to you?" Zaeed asked gruffly, eyes like metal.

"Absolutely nothing," I responded. Time to seal the deal, "But I've got info on him and his whole organization. So how about taking back what's yours?" Thank god for Sander's coming through on that one. She deserved a once-in-a-lifetime Carter hug.

"What's in it for you?"

"I need training, and you're the best man for the job."

Zaeed continued his searching gaze, before uncrossing his arms. "What did you say your name was, maggot?"

"Matt Carter."

Zaeed snorted again, "That's a stupid name."

What's wrong with my name? "So's Zaeed Massani," I fired back.

The mercenary scratched his jaw, his face twisted into a scowl, "Not enough goddamned credits in the galaxy… This will be strictly business and I need to see what you're capable of and what sort of intel you have before we agree on any sort of deal." He then got real close, so that we were eye to eye and I suddenly had no idea which eye I should focus on, "I don't care what we have to do, as long as Vido dies. I won't be responsible if you swallow a bullet."

"So do we have a deal." I asked.

He stepped away and extended his hand. "I suppose so."

I took it in a hard grip, elated that things had worked out. Sort of. I was on my way.

Zaeed then wound back and clocked me across the jaw.

Ow my beautiful face.

He caught me before I could fall flat on my ass, but it still hurt like a bitch and caused spots to dance in front of my eyes.

"That's for the goddamned wake up call." Zaeed chuckled.

I bet this is the start to a horrible friendship.

AN: So yeah... I'm still alive.

Seriously though, guys. I'm incredibly sorry I took so long on this chapter. It must have gone through ten revisions at least. I just couldn't decide where I wanted the story to go. And then I was never happy with the dialogue between between Sanders and Carter. And more excuses, more excuses.

But it's finished and I've already got the next few chapters laid out. But I'm not even going to try and promise a quicker update because holy shit, last chapter I did that and I went MIA for months. I appreciate all of you that have review, favorited and/or followed. Any more feedback is more than appreciated.

Stay classy

-Solas Nocturne