Won't you follow me into the jungle?

Ain't no god on these streets in the heart of the jungle.

So won't you follow me into the jungle? - Jamie N Commons

September 28, 2171

I pressed the already lukewarm beer bottle to my bruised face, trying not to aggravate the tender skin. "That's all of it. Everything I've got on the Blue Suns is right there."

The old mercenary tossed the datapad containing all the gangs current movements and missions back onto the table between us. He barely even looked at it for more than a second, "I'm too drunk to read any of that shit right now." He answered as if reading my mind, "You could have handed my a fucking manuscript. How do I know it's any good?"

The sound of bottle being smashed and table being knocked over pierced the din of the bar. I glanced around before returning my gaze to the old mercenary, "The info's good."

Zaeed downed the rest of his beer in one go. That couldn't be healthy for him. How many was that now? Five? Six? That wasn't even counting the number before I got here. "Where'd you get it, maggot?"

"Off the extranet." I lied with a grin, "You can get anything off the extranet. You can order an entire crates worth of hamsters for less than 50 credits. What a time to be alive, am I right?"

He glowered at the attempt at a joke, causing me to shift uncomfortably. Would it really kill him to smile?

I guess I couldn't blame him. This must have all been a lot to take in and the plan wasn't exactly bulletproof. It had taken a lot of time pouring over the information on my way to Omega just to come up with this idea. And I didn't like it, not really. Like I told Sanders; I was more of a straight forward type of guy; this plan had a lot of variables that we needed to account for. Not at all straight forward.

"Uh yeah so… Maska Oran." I started, tapping at the datapad. That was the volus' name. Oran was a well-established business man on Omega. Guy was pretty average, as far as I could tell. Had a family, nice banking system. That wasn't really important. What was important was that the little son of a bitch was Vido's go-to-guy. "That's one of the people the data pad mentions specifically. You've been trying to track down Vido, but why do that when we can have Vido come to us? Oran's a middle man for the Blue Suns. He handles the gang's transactions and money through numerous bank accounts. Vido still handles the numbers for the gang, right? So if anyone can get to Vido Santiago; it'd be Oran."

Zaeed blinked for a long moment before growling, "I didn't get a word of that. I'd ask you to repeat yourself, but your voice is hell to the ears right now." He chuckled. "Don't take it personally, it's just fucking annoying."

Gee, why would I be offended by that?

"Okie dokie then. I'll break it down for you: We find Vido using Oran. Then we use Vido to track the other Blue Suns leaders. We take them all down and get you running the show again." Zaeed had to be back in control of the Blue Suns. That was the first part of my 'Save the Galaxy' Plan. Getting the Terminus in order.

Zaeed raised his eyebrows in skepticism and leaned across the booth, "Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh." He leaned back to sweep the bar. "Besides, I like my method of finding Vido better."

"Yeah well, how's that been working out for ya?"

The bottle in Zaeed's hand paused halfway to his mouth, but only for a second. "You'll be declaring war on the Blue Suns."

I shrugged, "Then it's a good thing there's two of us." Hopefully by that time, I'll be a somewhat decent mercenary. Zaeed was good but he wasn't that good. We'd needed to play this smart. Real smart. Once the ball got rolling, we'd need to be on the top of our game at all times.

"I'll check it out. The intel and that Oran bloke." The old mercenary slurred, bringing me back to the present. Another bar fight broke out right across from us and a krogan slammed his head plate against a drell, knocking him unconscious as a quarian leapt onto the krogan's back and smashed a bottle into the krogan's hump. Zaeed continued, unperturbed by the violence, "But I'm not about to have a maggot as green as you watching my back. How you managed to make it this far into Omega without getting mugged is beyond me."

I like to think it's because of my stellar personality and good cheer. Of course I don't say that; I'm trying to make a good first impression.

"Yeah," I lifted up my sweatshirt, revealing the handle of the pistol. "Well it's not like I'm unarmed here."

Zaeed glanced down before snorting, "Am I supposed to be impressed by that fucking pea shooter?"

"Hey, size isn't everything."

He gave me a crooked grin and it took me a moment to realize what I just said and how truly stupid I was.

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure it wasn't."

"I meant the size of my pistol- the firearm." Having the conversational skills of a twig must be a superpower. If it is then I'm like the freaking Superman of social interactions.

The old mercenary smirked before holding up his empty bottle, "Bring the whole damn case, Sharia. Looks like I'll need it."

I started again, "You got to trust me here. The info's good and the plan will work." Y'know, probably.

"Trust you?" His eyes raked over me and I had the feeling he was assessing my trustworthiness, "Ha! That's about as likely as me giving up drinking." Apparently, I didn't strike him as the honest sort. Should probably take offense to that. He also apparently wasn't kidding about that 'bring the whole case' thing because a moment later, a pale blue asari waitress dropped a twelve pack at our table.

I watched him pull out several azure bottles.

"Do you even know how to shoot that thing?" Zaeed asked with derision, not looking up as he collected the bottles. I looked down to the pistol at my side.

"What's so hard to figure out about point and shoot? It's a gun, dude, not a fucking fighter jet."

A brief snort sounded from across the table, before he stood to his full height.

"Show me." The old mercenary shoved his way past the crowds. I followed quickly.

The streets of Omega. People shuffled past with their heads down and ragged clothing pulled tight against them, as if they expected someone to steal the clothes off their backs. Hell, maybe that's exactly what they were afraid of.

"Alright, jackass. Let's get this over with." Zaeed kicked at a prone homeless man (who may or may not have been dead) laying face down in a gutter behind the bar.

Slightly worried, I nudged the drunk with the toe of my boot a bit more gently and bent down to check the batarian's pulse. Relief relaxed my muscles and I felt slightly better knowing that the man was only sleeping off a rough night and not pushing up daisies.

Standing back up, I brushed my hands on my pants and turned to the old mercenary, "C'mon, man. You can't just kick people. That's rude."

"Fuck the four-eyed prick. It's his own goddamn fault for being there." The old mercenary barked not even bothering to look back as he was setting up a few bottles along a horizontal section of piping. Zaeed set up the last bottle and clapped his hands together to remove the nonexistent dust. "Now if your gonna act like a mercenary, then you're gonna shoot like one." He gestured to the pistol. "Or do you think a gun alone makes you tough shit?"

Well, I figured it'd help.

We backed up until a good distance of alley separated us from the targets. The metal of the grip dug into my palm and I adjusted the holographic sights slightly, remembering what I learned about 21st century firearms. I wondered if any of that applied here? I definitely didn't have to worry about loading in the wrong rounds, that's for sure.

Zaeed leaned back against the wall behind us, crossing his arms, "Try not to miss too badly, maggot."

I swallowed uneasily, recalling everything ever taught to me about using a gun. Raising the pistol in two hands, I looked down the sights. I could do this. No problem. Just make sure to flip off the safety, line up the sights and…

"Hit the fucking thing!"

The shout along with the crack of the pistol made me flinch. The firearm kicked back and the bullet missed the bottle completely, impacting against the backside of the building and leaving a decent sized scorch mark.

"Christ," Zaeed slurred, "That wasn't even remotely close. You're not blind are you?"

"Would have been a lot more accurate if you weren't being an ass." I muttered, hearing a sarcastic voice in my head remark on the expert display of marksmanship. Not my best shot. I could do better dammit. Just give m another chance.

He shrugged, unapologetic, "No one would blame you if were blind."

It took a great deal of effort not to roll my eyes. "Got any real advice?"

"Firefights aren't exactly a nice and quiet affair, maggot. If a little yelling makes you this goddamn jumpy then you can forget about going after the Blue Suns."

That caused a spike of frustration to flare up. "Them's fighting words." Suddenly, all I wanted to do was shove those insults straight back into his fucked up face.

"Truth hurts." He pointed at the bottles, daring me to prove him wrong.

Aiming down the sights once more, I took careful aim. The first bottle exploded. And I was proud to say I only flinched half as much as the first time.

I moved to the next bottle, and it too exploded a second later. It took three shots to hit the third bottle but only one to hit the fourth bottle. By that time the flinching was at a minimum.

Lowering the gun, I admired the now broken bottles that decorated the ground, feeling strangely satisfied. Still mediocre with handguns, but at least I hit them. Guess those hunting trips weren't a complete waste of time. It wouldn't hurt to invest in a shotgun and/or rifle; especially since I was probably more familiar with those types of weapons.

I turned to the old mercenary, remembering that humility was the quality of a great man.

"How's that for shooting, Scarface?"

Well, I'm an alright man.

The old mercenary was uncharacteristically silent, his one good eye taking in the broken bottles. He gave me a look before nodding.

I blinked. What the hell was that supposed to mean? A dull spark of insecurity hit me. What if he still didn't believe I had what it takes? What was I supposed to do then? Crawl back to Kahlee? Fuck, she made it pretty clear that there was no turning back. "Well, don't leave me in suspense. Penny for your oh-so-disturbing thoughts?"

"Well, I guess that's something. Got any armor with you, maggot?"

"No…?" I answered unsure of where this was going.

The old mercenary flashed a smirk that wasn't all that friendly, "Oh this is gonna be a goddamned great time."

I had a feeling his definition of 'a great time' differed from my definition.

And that led us onto a shuttle, bound for Omega's docks.

"You're our fifth?" A krogan bellowed polishing a shotgun in his hands as we entered into the shuttle. There were three other mercenaries in the shuttle besides the krogan. One salarian, an asari, and a turian woman that was armored to the teeth. "Thought you weren't going to show."

"You reek of liquor." The asari's face pinched in disgust.

"I was at a bar." Zaeed slurred, but I could see now that he wasn't nearly as wasted as he feigned to be. His eyes were way to bright.

"And?" The salarian asked.

"And I knitted doilies for your mother." Zaeed snapped, "Now we gonna talk all day. Or are we gonna get down to business."

The turian woman finally spoke, nodding towards me, "Who's the kid? The contract only called for five."

I bristled at the mention of kid, but wisely kept my temper in check.

"Nobody." Zaeed answered before I could open my mouth. "He won't cut into our pay so none of you have to worry." He sat down in one of the seats and I grudgingly followed his lead.

The asari gave the old merc a dirty look, "You'd bring a child on a job?"

Again with the cracks at my age? Honestly, I was probably taller than most of the people in here, excluding the krogan. I could easily pass as a solid 21.

"It's not like I was looking for him," Zaaed answered, "Boy followed me like a lost puppy."

"Still here by the way." I raised my hand as if to prove I was indeed present. "And my ears work perfectly, thanks.

"Aw. It talks." the krogan grinned. At least I think he grinned. It was hard to tell with a face like that.

"Funny, I was about to say the same about you," I smirked.

The krogan growled and the rest of the trip was made in awkward silence.

It was a simple job. At least that's what Zaeed told me. I had no idea what constituted a 'simple job' for mercenaries and bounty hunters. Apparently all we had to do was clear a slaving ship that was docked right here on Omega. The team of mercenaries were to split in two. One group would be placing explosives on the ship's FTL core while the other was taking over the bridge and guiding the ship out of Omega's docks so that it could detonate at a safe distance away from the station.

I don't know who these guys pissed off or what they had to do to get on the guy's shit list, but I would definitely would not want to be them at the moment.

Maybe it would have been best to try and talk Zaeed out of it, but I had told him that he could test my conviction to the job anyway he thought best. In retrospect, that was not my best suggestion. Though I wish he'd given me something other then minimal armor that he fished out from the back of his skycar and looked like it wouldn't stop a pellet gun.

Well, it was a bit too late to complain now. I'm the one that wanted to be the big bad mercenary. I bet Kahlee was laughing it up right now. Would serve me right.

The shuttle ride was (thankfully) smooth and landed down without too much turbulence. The mercenaries strode out, not bothering to wait as I wrestled with my harness for a moment before falling into step behind Zaeed.

"Hold up." I mumbled, just loud enough for Zaeed to hear, but not loud enough to attract any unwanted attention, "What's the plan here? They won't just let us walk up and blow up their ship."

Zaeed glanced over his shoulder, as if surprised I was even still there, "Don't die."

Perfect.

We're screwed.

"Great strategy there, Haymitch." I muttered, "So you're just gonna waste an entire ship's worth of people, no questions asked?"

"Of course not. I asked how much we'd get paid."

That's just cold.

Maybe I'll get lucky and the old bastard will collapse from alcohol poisoning before we even get to the ship.

The entourage of mercenaries began dividing, separating to take up different positions. I stuck with Zaeed, figuring that he was my best bet of getting out of this unscathed. We ducked behind cargo crates, peering around to see a group of pirates, mostly batarians and slavers milling outside the entrance of the ship. He pulled the sniper rifle from his back and sighted down the scope.

I fumbled to pull the pistol from my hip, wishing to hell and back that I had something a little more substantial. Well, something's better then nothing.

We stood there for a long moment and I had no idea what was going on.

"So… is there a signal or something…" The words died as Zaeed gave me a sharp glare. Maybe it'd be best if I just didn't open my mouth.

And there was that agonizing waiting. It couldn't have been for more then a couple minutes, but it felt like hours.

Without warning, one of the crates the slavers were hauling onboard exploded killing the two closest to it instantly. My eyes widened as Zaeed began firing, picking off the slavers.

I dropped into a crouch and took aim, but by the time I had a target lined up, they were dropped by either Zaeed or by one of the other mercs.

After a couple of seconds, the entrance of the ship was clear of any living being.

"What was that you were saying about a signal, maggot?" Zaeed smirked before switching to his assault rifle and marching forwards.

Dick.

I ran after him and all the other mercenaries met us at the entrance. We stormed though the airlock, shooting anyone that tried to stand in our way. Marching through the hallways of the freighter, we met with very little resistance. The real mercenaries killed anything before I even got off a shot, which somehow managed to piss me off and relieve me at the same time.

The group divided in two when we got to a fork in the main corridor. The asari, turian, and salarian went left while Zaeed and the krogan went right. I stood there for a second, not sure what to do before deciding to follow the krogan and Zaeed.

"Well, at least we're making good time." I tried for an easy grin, catching up to the other two. "Teamwork, right?"

"He always this annoying?" The krogan growled as we continued down the halls.

At that moment, there was a dull echo of noise. It seemed to be coming from the corridors from which we had just emerged. I had to pause, it took me a second to figure out what was causing the cacophony.

Pounding feet.

Heading straight for us.

Zaeed and the krogan were a split second faster on the uptake than I was because they both immediately picked up speed. They didn't need to tell me to hurry.

I didn't dare look behind me when the gunfire began. Several shots pinged against the kinetic barrier as it materialized and shattered a second later. Crappy piece of junk amor.

I fired blindly over my shoulder, knowing there was no way in hell I was actually going to hit one of them, but hopefully it would be enough to keep their aim less then perfect.

We sped around corners. Zaeed and the krogan turned around every so often to fire against the charging wave of pirates. This usually followed by a few death screams. I made it to the end of the hallway first. Brief terror of being boxed in hit before I saw the elevators. I punched the holographic display for the bridge.

And holy fucking hell was it really going to take this long? Now was not the time for the mass effect elevators to be slower then turtles having sex.

"Fuck, what kind of galaxy has elevators this slow!" I shouted spinning around and raising my pistol to join Zaeed as they fended off the pirates. "Game designer freaks!"

I'm sure Zaeed and the krogan couldn't even hear me over all the noise, seeing as how they were a bit preoccupied at the moment. The constant cracks of gunfire filled the corridor and deafened any other noise. The pirates kept coming, shooting, and ducking back behind the corners. A few charged but were quickly dealt with by the krogan's shotgun.

The bodies were piling up, but the freaking sons of bitches kept coming and, unlike them, we didn't have any cover.

My barrier nearly collapsed once more, and I noticed that Zaeed and the krogan already had numerous holes peppering their armor. We were sitting ducks.

The krogan then faltered in his last shot, going down on a knee. The pirates didn't waste a moment. Most of the bullets were now solely concentrated on him.

There was a joyful beep from the elevator behind us, signifying it's arrival.

The doors hissed open. I attempted to grab at the back of the krogan's armor and haul him towards the elevator, but he shrugged me off and charged forward with a roar.

The krogan was a nightmare fighting, throwing pirates around and shooting his shotgun with one hand like a tank. But he was slowing down and by the time we were safely in the elevator, the slavers had overwhelmed him.

Zaeed and I backed up until our backs hit the wall, we continued firing through the closing doors as the ever increasing number pirates fired right back. My armor was slowly whittling down to nothing. Not even sure if I was hitting any of them at this point, I kept pulling the trigger until the gun overheated.

Thankfully, the doors hissed shut.

"Well, that should hold 'em." I muttered pulling off a smoking shoulder pad from my armor that had been ruined by an incendiary round. Zaeed punched the holo display for the main deck.

We didn't move.

I looked towards Zaeed and he pressed the display again, more forcefully.

"C'mon, get us out of here, old man." I asked with no small amount of foreboding, refusing to believe what my eyes were seeing as the old merc continued slamming his fist against the button.

"What the hell do you think I'm trying to do, boy?" Zaeed cursed violently in what might have been an alien dialect. "The damned thing won't budge! Ruttin' bastards must of cut the power."

"Alright," I took a deep breath, "Give me a sec, maybe I can fix-."

Zaeed aimed his rifle towards the ceiling.

I covered my eyes as sparks flew and thin grains of metal rained down on us. The emergency escape latch swung open.

"Or you could just do that."

He jumped and hauled himself up onto the top of the elevator. Well, I guess this did constitute as an emergency.

I jumped up after him, and scrambled to yank myself up.

The old mercenary's one good eye scanned around and I had to ask, "Okay, what now?"

"Look for a service hatch. Freighters like this usually have one for their engineers." Of course he would know something like that. I looked along the right wall before spotting a crawl space about a two meters above us with a dull yellow light for illumination. "Up there." I nodded.

Zaeed gave his own nod of understanding, but then tossed me two packages. "Place those on the two supports on your side."

"What are these?" I asked examining the packages as I did as instructed.

"C4," he replied casually.

Oh, okay. Good to know after you just freaking tossed those at me.

"And you usually carry around C4 in your back pocket?" I asked placing the last one.

The old man gave me a genuinely confused look, "Rather have it and not need it then need it and not have it, princess."

That's… actually pretty smart. Words to live by. I positioned myself under the service hatch and held my hands out to give Zaeed a boost up. The old mercenary got the hint and holstered his rifle and took a few steps back. He then ran towards me, placing the heel of his boot into my waiting palms. I lifted him up, and was immediately grateful for upper body strength.

A second later he was up and I heard shouting in the elevator below. Glancing back at the escape hatch I saw that the batarians had gotten the elevator doors back open and that they had realized where we had gone.

No time for a running start. I turned and grabbed ahold of Zaeed's outstretched hand. He hauled me up as bullets began pinging off the walls of the elevator shaft. I noticed the old mercenary reach for something on his belt, and he came back with a grenade. He casually flipped the primer and tossed the disc through the elevator hatch. There was a brief panic before a muffled explosion. Then there was just a lot of turmoil.

Zaeed then pulled out a detonator and pressed the big red button. Several small flashes and quiet booms echoed around the elevator shaft. The elevator then went plunging down into the depths of the ship.

"Zaeed." I said, breathless from the narrow escape.

"Yeah?"

"You're awesome."

He grinned, "Don't be celebrating yet. We still need to gut the bloody ship." He raised his hand to his ear, "Demolition team, how are the explosives coming along?"

No answer. Zaeed frowned. He tried again, with the same result.

"Damned pirates," Zaeed growled, "They're jamming us. The job didn't say anything about this kind of goddamned resistance. I gonna have to have a talk with our employer after all this."

Yeah, who's the tool that fucked up on this one? "Hey, I'm just glad to be alive."

Zaeed grunted, "Keep close to me if you want to keep it that way."

And with that, we began crawling through the service hatch.

God, poor Joker. I had no idea how cramped and sweltering these things got. And he had to do it during a Collector attack. My already insurmountable respect for the pilot just went up a couple pegs.

"So is this all part of the plan?" I asked as we shuffled through on our hands and knees.

"We're not dead yet."

We finally climbed up the last few rungs of a ladder and onto the command deck.

Zaeed hefted his rifle off his back and nodded towards the doors. "That's the command deck. Get ready. The captain's supposed to be one tough son of a bitch."

This was it. I wish I had something cool and witty to say, but I was coming up blank. We stepped towards it, but it remained shut.

"Locked." I observed plainly.

"No shit." Zaeed went to pull out a couple of grenades, but I moved forward.

"I bet I can hack it."

"You?" Zaeed sounded just a little skeptical, but shrugged. "Sure, be my guest."

Bending down in front of the red hologram, my omni-tool flashed across my forearm and began running a lock breaking program.

There was a shout from the down corridor and the crack of gunfire being exchanged.

"Hurry it up with that lock, boy!" Zaeed shouted over the noise. Even as several shots impacted against the door right beside my head.

"No shit!" I yelled back.

Almost… There!

The door hissed open and I fell through, not even realizing I had been leaning against it.

The doors slid behind me, shutting out the firefight on the outside.

I leapt up to see that I had made it to the bridge of the ship.

And I'm not alone in here. A hulking batarian with an ugly scar running over his two right eyes looked me over with disgust. Two significantly smaller batarians stood behind him, completing the scene. They stood only a few meters away.

We all stared at each other for a brief moment, as if not quite sure where to go from here. I couldn't help it, I had to open my big fat mouth.

"Dude, you're fugly."

Things went south real fast after that.

The fugly one levels his shotgun on me with a growl.

No time to reach for the pistol. One second, I'm crouched, and the next I'm sprinting, shoulder's low. There's a blast and I hopped to the side. My barrier blinked out of existence. There was a stinging pain in my arm, but I didn't care. Next thing I know, I'm tackling the guy like a full-on freaking linebacker.

And man did the fugly bastard have the fighting skills to back up his size. The moment we hit the ground, he was throwing fists, elbows, knees, anything to get me off. The shotgun was pinned sideways between the two of us.

But I didn't care. I just started wailing on the guy, and (as ashamed as I am to admit it) it felt good to finally cut loose. This wasn't Mindoir. I wasn't helpless here.

Arms grabbed at my shoulders, attempting to haul me off and there were a few sounds of gunfire, but me and Fugly were moving around too much for them to get a clear shot. Just to be safe, I threw a few elbows back and, judging by the pained yowl that, (in my opinion, that noise should never come from a man), brought one of them down for the count.

Finally, I lifted the hulking son of a bitch up by the front of his armor before delivered a punch to the damaged side of his face, he fell limp with a groan.

That's that.

Only just as I'm starting to stand-

Someone wrapped an arm around my neck and began to twist. My spine creaked under the pressure. The assailant shoved a pistol against the side of my head.

Then the room shook and a muffled boom sounded somewhere on the ship, throwing everyone off balance. The crack of the gun sounded too close for comfort, deafening my right ear and I fell away from my assailant, connecting the back of my head with something hard.

The world went white for a second, and when it came back, I was on my hands and knees and I'm staring down at the metal bulkhead shining in the dim glow of red lights as alarm sounds blared in my left eardrum. It's kinda weird though, because I don't remember the metal ever being that shiny, I felt the back of my head and it came away wet.

Wet and crimson.

No doubt the ground was also wet and crimson.

I needed to get up. I needed to move

Stumbling forward, my hands found the unconscious Fugly bastard. I grabbed the shotgun that still laid near him and struggled to my feet.

The other batarians were just starting to pick themselves up off the ground. The one closest to me had managed to keep himself from fully falling to the ground by holding onto some loose wires from an exposed panel. Only now he was tangled. Nowhere to go.

I brought the stock of the shotgun to my shoulder at the same moment he raised the pistol in his free hand.

We both knew.

But what's one more nightmare, right?

The shotgun blast was deafening and tore through the air like a shockwave, shredding past any kinetic barrier and armor he might of had equipped. The batarian slammed back against the wall, his ruined chest spraying blood in his wake and he hung like a rag doll from the wires that still trapped his wrist.

Snapping my attention to the next batarian a few meters away as he tried to draw his rifle from his place on the ground. I fired.

Once. His shields were down. Twice. He collapsed against the bulkhead.

And that was that. The red emergency lights continued to flash and a buzzing began to fill my right ear even as the alarm continued to sound in the left.

It all felt surreal.

Then the doors across the room slid open, bringing me back into reality. I brought up the shotgun, only to see Zaeed marching in with his rifle already raised. The old man looked burnt and singed in multiple places, but otherwise unharmed. He took stock of the scene with his one good eye, looking over the beaten and broken bodies with a cursory and disinterested glance, scanning the guns that still laid scattered across the ground, and then finally, a head-on examination of my own beaten and battered body.

"What took ya so long, Massani?" I asked, trying to display a cockiness I wasn't feeling. "You missed the party."

That's when I saw it. The fleeting, tiny, and cruel smirk that curled at the merc's mouth. A brief blend of approval and brutality that flashed across his scarred face for only a second before his features were schooled back into self-assured confidence.

Or maybe that was just my imagination.

Slinging his rifle across his back, he leaned onto his back foot, raised his hands, and started clapping.

"Nice, fucking job maggot. Honestly, didn't think you had it in you."

"Yeah," I leaned back tiredly against the wall, trying to calm my racing heart. The adrenaline is still coursing. I needed a second. My skin hurt, my bones hurt, breathing hurt. But I was alive. I looked over the bodies. This wasn't Mindoir. I wasn't ever gonna be that helpless again. "Yeah, me neither."

Man, did I feel alive.

He punched my shoulder roughly, and I nearly cried out. I looked down to see a bleeding bullet wound in my bicep. When did that happen? Zaeed moved to one of the bigger terminals of the bridge. The old mercenary tapped at a few buttons before checking his omni-tool one last and grunting. "Safe to say that the demolition team did their bloody part."

The ship began moving. From the viewport, I could see stars and the asteroid field surrounding Omega.

"We've got less than five minutes before this whole damed ship goes supernova." Zaeed continued, "Unless you want to see what the inside of a star looks like, we better get busy leaving."

I shook myself awake, "What about the others?"

"If they aren't dead yet, then they can find their own way off the ship."

"What if they're in trouble?"

Zaeed shrugged, uncaring, "I don't give a damn."

"Well, we have to at least attempt to look for them." I muttered.

"I'm sorry, princess. I wasn't aware you were calling the shots around here." Zaeed growled. "My apologies, your royal highness, but this isn't up for debate."

"You're damn right it isn't." I seethed. Maybe it was stupid that I cared so much; were our roles reversed, I doubt they would even give a shit about wether Zaeed and I died, but it just didn't seem right. Finding a terminal and turning off the enemy jammer, I opened up a com link on my omni-tool.

"Anyone on this frequency, if you're alive out there, then you need to get the hell out of dodge, sooner rather then later."

Static was the only thing that greeted me.

"Well, look at that. They're gone, boy."

I turned to Zaeed with a glare. "They're not-"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. The big, hulking, fugly batarian that I punched out earlier was now on his knees with a pistol in his hands.

Aimed at me.

I didn't even have time to register the sound of the shot before the world went dark.

There was a shape but it was blurry. There was noise, but it was muted. Then the shape became an old man with a broken face. Then the noise started to form into a rough voice, "…awake…boy." I felt like I was being dragged by my ankle, but my head hurt a little too much too start taking in the scenery.

Then we stopped. And there was a hiss. I didn't notice at first, but the red haze that had surrounded us dropped away.

A whoosh sound filtered through my senses and the voice continued, fading in and out, "…know… hear me. You're damned lucky... couldn't shoot worth a damn."

"Ugh." I groaned. That was real intelligent of me. Maybe next I'll try and form a coherent sentence.

"Stupid… That's what you get for not ducking." Becoming more self-aware by the second, I realized I was laying on the metal floor. Zaeed was sitting down in a seat at the right, strapped into a harness, "Shoot to kill every single time. Otherwise it'll be you getting shot."

"I think I have a concussion," my hand rubbed across my face, wincing after feeling the bruise rapidly forming across my forehead. Do they still make aspirin in the future? I'm gonna need it.

"And next time it won't be a glancing round, maggot." The old mercenary said. I cracked an eye open to see him smirking. The bastard. His face then turned grim as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. We were in an escape pod, I could see that now. "You still want to be a mercenary?"

A little too busy trying to fight off the pain, it took me awhile to answer, "Of course."

"Let me tell you a simple fact about being a hired gun." He leaned forward, uncrossing his arms and staring me down, "There's no such thing as a painless fucking lesson. The only way your gonna learn is through experience. Each day is gonna teach you something. And it's gonna hurt. Each and every time. That's what our lives are; one vile fucking thing after another. Now, I'll ask again: Do you want to be a mercenary?

I remained silent, mulling over his words. Is that what I wanted? Could I handle it? I didn't know the answer. I wanted to say yes. Tell him that I was prepared for anything, but thinking about it now, maybe I was in over my head.

Then again, since when have I ever let something like that stop me? "I'll deal."

"Good. That dull sting you're feeling right now at the base of your skull, get real familiar with it. If you can weather all the bloody wretched shit that gets thrown at you and walk away from it," he scratched absently at his right cheek, below his blinded eye. "Then trust me, you'll be surprised the type of hell you can learn to live through."

I never did find out what happened to those other mercenaries. But judging how short of a lifespan mercs usually had, I could take a guess.

The months that followed I found out one very important lesson.

Zaeed Massani was a dangerous man.

You think I would have realized this after watching him roast Vido in the game, but it didn't sink in until I became his sort of protegé. He wasn't nearly as talkative and friendly as he was in the games. Nor was he the least bit reasonable. He had his way of doing things and thats the way things were done. No questions, no arguments. Which I guess made some sort of sense, he is a ruthless mercenary. Not exactly Nobel Peace Prize material. But it's the life I chose for myself so I couldn't complain.

I say 'sort of protegé' because Zaeed had a very loose meaning of the word teaching. It involved less conversation and lecturers and more having me figure it out on my own during our contract jobs.

My marksmanship got a little better, but it was nothing special. Zaeed said it would come with experience and practice and that's all there was too it. Just as I expected, we determined real quick that I was best with a rifle and shotgun. I kept the pistol around mostly as a secondary. It just felt right. Sniper rifles I was average with, but they didn't seem right. And SMG's were completely out of my depth. I had no idea how to handle those and Zaeed eventually gave up trying to teach me, saying something along the lines of, "Bloody fuck, maggot. Calling you blind at this point would be a damn insult to the blind everywhere. Christ, I've seen girl scouts shoot better than that. Just… put down the damned thing before you blow your own head off. Fucking waste of fucking bullets…"

It was probably for the best. Wouldn't want his blood pressure getting any higher anyways.

The physical training was borderline torture. I don't care what the old mercenary said, it was definitely some kind of torture. And here I thought Jane was the she-devil when it came to exercise. Zaeed definitely took the cake in terms of absolute zero tolerance for any of my whining. I learned very quick that complaining and joking was not in my best interests.

It was basically boot camp only with Zaeed's own personal sadistic spin on things. Every single exercise was geared towards building my strength, endurance, and speed.

I wish I could say by the end of the training, I had the body of a freaking greek god, but that really wasn't the case. Don't get me wrong, I got a lot more toned and gained a lot more muscle mass, but it was all focused on sheer power and strength. We didn't bother building any 'goddamn pansy muscles' as Zaeed called them. After each training *cough*-torture-*cough* session, my arms felt like deadweights and my legs wouldn't support my own weight. On more then one occasion, I had to literally drag myself onto the couch.

And after that, the old bastard would want us to spar.

"Get up, princess," Zaeed grinned, tossing the combat knife towards me. "The only easy day was yesterday."

I laid face down on the floor, dead to the world. "You say that every day. Know my motto? Screw consciousness; that's what I say."

"Falling asleep won't solve shit." He tugged another combat knife from his boot. "Quit being a pansy."

Zaeed and I were about the same build. I had a few inches on him and my shoulders were slightly broader, but other than that we were pretty even making him a great sparring partner. Jane could kick my ass several ways to Sunday and was more than a challenging opponent, but Zaeed obviously outclassed the both of us when it came to experience.

He taught me the basics of the mixed martial arts fighting style he utilized. Nothing fancy, just something that I could use besides boxing and brute strength to get by.

I will give him some credit; he really taught me how to fight dirty. I thought I already knew all the ins and outs; i.e. throwing dirt in someone's face, kicking at their knees. Not even close. Zaeed had literally memorized every trick in the book and then some. And he wasn't afraid of using them in any of our spars. Forced me to learn real quick.

I didn't like the thought of fighting dirty, but after getting shot, stabbed, fried, and choked more times then I care to remember in my already short career as a mercenary, I decided that I could afford to fight a little dirty.

The training didn't end there.

The man may look and act like he was just a blunt instrument, but you don't get a reputation like his just by being senselessly violent. Zaeed was well-versed in how law enforcement, criminal, and various government agencies (C-Sec, STG, Eclipse) typically operated and conducted their investigations. He made sure I knew how to impersonate and evade them all like a professional. It became an invaluable skill, especially when we were called on to work contracts in Citadel space. The old man drilled me in the principals of escape, evasion, silent movement, and when the situation called for it subtlety and stealth.

Not that I'd be donning one of those tactical cloaks (or whatever they were called) anytime soon. That would always be Thane and Kasumi's area of expertise. I was just decent at avoiding authority figures. Heh, becoming a common trend, that was.

Lastly, I became alarmingly good at some areas that were generally frowned upon by the law. Breaking locks and hacking into security systems became a common practice. It's a good thing I learned the basics back when Jane and I were training because Zaeed wasn't really the patient sort when it came to technology.

I wasn't nearly as smart as some of the mercenaries that Zaeed I sometimes met up with on our jobs. Those guys were real brainiacs and hackers that could disable multiple turrets and track bounties through their extranet history. I couldn't even figure out how to get an overload programed onto my omni-tool without accidentally shocking myself. Let's just say that if you ever needed something repaired, built, or set up then I was as useless as your average high school dropout. But if you needed someone to break into a skycar and hot wire it, I could definitely be of assistance.

In a sick sort of way, I was kinda proud of how fast I was able to become a delinquent.

It wasn't the perfect working relationship. Zaeed was a paranoid old bastard. He only barely tolerated me, and I think that's because he knew he could kill me if it ever came down to it. He just didn't trust easily and I couldn't blame him. The guy got shot in the face by his partner in crime. If that didn't make you a twitchy son of a bitch then nothing would.

But soon enough, Zaeed deemed me worthy of helping him take down the Blue Suns.

April 2, 2172

He cuffed me on the back of the head and my feet immediately dropped from their place on the coffee table.

"Get your feet off the damn table, boy." Zaeed growled out, coming around to face me on my side of the couch. Hypocrite. He put his feet up more times than I could count, but the moment I tried, he freaks out. "Were you born in a barn?"

He dropped the crate onto the now vacant table and it creaked under the sudden weight. It better not break. The owner of the motel we were currently crashing in made it clear that we were to leave everything the way we found it.

"That better be food." I kicked at the box, highly doubting it was food. "I'm starving. We should get burgers."

"There's ration bars in the fridge," the old mercenary groused.

My face morphed into disgust. "Yeah but those suck. What about real food that I don't have to cook in the microwave? Just get me some hamburger meat and I'll make them myself."

"Those greasy slabs of meat are more likely to kill you than a bullet."

"If loving burgers is wrong then I don't want to be right."

Zaeed seldom bothered to buy groceries for two reasons: 1) We were always moving around so home cooking would just be a hassle and 2) the paranoid old bastard didn't trust any of the food not to be poisoned. Every once in awhile, though, he would let me cook. Needless to say, I took full advantage of the situation and made my famous Carter burgers each and every single time. I nodded towards the package, "Now is this the part where I ask 'What's in the box?'"

"A krogan head." Zaeed growled seriously, "It's for you, princess."

I raised an eyebrow at the old mercenary. Sadly, he may not even be joking. Yep, it was that type of friendship. "A krogan head? Oh sure, a head's no big deal but I ask for a hamburger and there's just no freaking way. Someone needs to get their priorities straight."

The old mercenary grunted, "Just open the damn thing, maggot. Today's the day Vido bites the bullet."

Giving the package a once over, I pried open the top. Inside was a set of armor. Judging by the plates that covered it's surface, it was for sure a heavy hard-suit. Something about it looked familiar though. Weird. I squinted before catching recognizing the style of the armor. It dawned on me and I raised my eyebrows in realization. It looked kinda like the Terminus armor in the second game. Not nearly as cool or high-tech, but it was definitely made by the same guys. That couldn't have been cheap.

I looked up to see Zaeed with his back turned to me.

"Heavy armor… is a bitch to handle." Zaeed continued, grabbing Jessie, his affectionately named rifle, from his bedside and some grenades that lay scattered around the apartment. "Not like that pansy medium armor you've been using. Make sure to compensate for the extra weight when fighting."

Oh man, this shit is heavy. Pulling out the entire suit alone was a hastle. It'd be a small miracle if I could even run properly in all this gear. Guess Jane and Zaeed's training was a good thing after all. I started to change into the armor. "Hey, Zaeed?"

He grunted.

"Thanks," I slipped on the torso piece and the clamps sealed.

He turned, crossing his arms, "Don't be gettin' all touchy feely on me, boy. "

I grinned pulling on the boots. They landed back on the floor with a thud, "Hey, you know me. No chick-flick moments."

"Good, because I ain't gonna stand for any of that crap." He growled before continuing to collect incendiary grenades around the motel room.

Role model of the year right there.

Finally, I slung my rifle and shotgun over my back and tucked my pistol against my side.

"You ready to take back the Blue Suns?"

The old mercenary gave me look, "Just try and stop me."

AN: Yep, just stayin' alive over here.

Really more of a bridge chapter. Now we can get into the awesome stuff. For those of you wondering where Jane is, don't worry, she'll be back soon.

Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, I really need to look into getting a beta reader. Plus I'm writing most of this at freaking ungodly hours of the night because I finally got a job and have no time to write at a reasonable time in the day.

Hope you enjoy! And once more, thank you to all those who are still with me after this chapter. I promise I know exactly what I'm doing. Mostly.

Stay classy

-Solas