Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware or E.A., nor do I own ANY of the mentioned works in this story. The story is not for profit of any kind, and will remain as such. Pls don't delete :(

Tuchanka Arms, Kiothi Ward, Citadel.

February 25th, 2183.

(Cory)

SOCOM MK 23, 45. ACP. KSG 12 gauge. DSR-1, .338. Enough parts to assemble a spare for each. Granith comes to inspect as I look over the gear. "Maintenance has been kept up on all of them?" I ask him, Loading a KSG.

"Of course. You expected different?"

"Nah, just making sure." I load the other tube, looking at the remaining crates. "Gonna need the 12. Can you add another crate to the ammo list I ordered?"

"Sure," He replies. "But it won't be ready for a while. The ammo you asked for before is being shipped to the warehouse. Do need it now?"

"Not yet. And the spares can stay here." I say, rolling a single shell along my hand. "You know, some might be say I have an unhealthy obsession with this stuff."

"An artist uses many different brushes in his work." Granith tells me, bringing a smirk to my face. "An artist of the battlefield uses many different tools. Your 'obsession' will keep you alive."

"If I am an artist, then why do I only paint in blood?"

"Because that medium is in high demand." Not like I can argue.

"Tali, are you ready to head out?" I ask her as I hook the shotgun to it's place at my back.

"Good to go." She replies, looking up from her Omni-Tool.

"Alright. Excellent work as always, Granith."

"Just make sure you come on back, Cory." The old Krogan replies.

Shepard waves us over from reception as we arrive at Huerta memorial. It's altogether a large complex, with several floors for different conditions. Spectre access allows three armed soldiers through quietly, and we arrive outside Ashley's room. "How is she?" I ask him quietly, and he doesn't respond right away, looking through the window at her.

"She came out of surgery a couple of hours ago, still unconscious. Kidneys are stable now, and they'll be able to reconstruct the damaged one fully. Medical coverage is good for the Alliance, but as a Spectre, I can write a blank check."

"Benefits of the job." I say.

"I guess. There's more." My jaw clenches as he confirms Chakwas' concern. "There's some spinal damage. At the present time, they're unsure whether she'll walk again."

"Ancestors," Tali exclaims quietly. She hugs him briefly, looking at him. "Are you okay, Matthias?" He looks surprised, but recovers, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't know, honestly." He mutters.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" I ask him, and he looks away from me. "Thought not."

"I tried," He argues weakly. "It didn't go well."

"I'm sorry, Shepard." I tell him after a moment of silence.

"It's not your fault." He replies quietly. "You saved her, Cory."

"I just hope she doesn't hate me for it." I sigh. He pats me on the shoulder.

"Not like that would be a change of pace." He says, and I chuckle.

"Maybe you're right. Time will tell."

It's not long before we're back on the Normandy, and I set the KSG and ammo in it's place among the rest of my gear. "Hold up Tali." I call to her, and she stops her journey to Engineering.

"Yeah?" She asks me.

"About what you saw today..." I start quietly.

"About the kids?"

"Yeah... Don't mention that to anyone." She tilts her head a bit.

"What? Worried you'll lose your tough guy image?" She laughs.

"I just don't want anything to happen to them." I reply. "I have enemies, who'd be delighted to use them against me. The less who know about them, the better." She regards me more seriously with that statement.

"Okay." She says, nodding.

"Thank you." I tell her, and return to my table. I have to prepare my gear.

It's sometime later that I find Shepard on the other side of my table, examining my work.

"Aftermarket hardware?" He asks, looking over the gear.

"In a sense." I answer, not really looking up. "I'm changing a fair bit of it up for this one." He hefts my P90 in his arms, looking over the longer barrel and compensator, before tracing the tube wrapped around the barrel to a small canister. "Better be careful with that." Shepard withdraws his finger quickly.

"What is it?" I don't answer immediately, And he reads the labeling. "Is this what I think it is?" He asks me.

"It's a White Phosphorous-based solution." I say quietly. "The round is sprayed with the solution as it passes through the compensator. The coating is non-reactive to fire or other activators for a few seconds. When it hits, the phosphorus is exposed to open air and ignites." There is a wideness to Shepard's eyes as he processes this information.

"This is... Cruel." He says haltingly.

"It's also efficient." I shrug. "It's worked before. And once someone starts burning, the panic is almost immediate. That panic spreads to the whole line."

There's a reason this is banned in modern conflicts," He points out. "Phosphorus is toxic, never mind the burn temperature."

"As opposed to using polonium? Harpoon rounds?" Shepard flinches a bit. Two of the most used types on Alliance Spec-Ops missions.

"Still, it doesn't mean you have to turn yourself into a monster for the sake of revenge."

"'He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man', Shepard." I tell him. He shakes his head. "And the people we're hunting don't qualify as human beings."

"Just consider it." He tells me.

"That an order, Shep?" He says nothing more, walking away.

"Twenty minutes to Nepheron." Pressly chimes in on the intercom. "Another five to the drop point." My mind calms as we approach. The anger, anxiety fade, only to be replaced with ice. The hunt, the fight is the only place I find peace now.

'Not the only place, remember?' My brain happily informs me, but I banish the thought. As I go over scenarios in my head, Shepard informs the ground team about the AO.

"The Cerberus stronghold," He points out on the map. "Now, scans have revealed that most of the base is underground, with the exterior watched by anti-tank and sniper units. Most of the facility is server banks and a medium-sized lab. The good news is, The primary generators are on the exterior, meaning that if we can disable the security topside, then we can level the playing field. Liara, Tali, Wrex. You're with me."

"Cory and I will be hitting this smaller facility here," Garrus points out on the map. "Five kilometers North. It houses the comms array and smaller labs. We'll hit it as you move on

yours. should keep them nice and spread out."

"Alright, gear up and load up." Shepard says, pointing to the Mako.

For once, I'm the first to embark, wearing my light gear. My luck hasn't been the best with my heavy gear as of late. I take a good look at the drivers seat and I chuckle, losing some of the coldness encircling my mind. The layout is a match to most off-roaders. 'The great Commander Shepard, the first Human Spectre, can't drive stick.' I sit down in the seat, going over the dash. What I assumed to be the shift is more akin to a fighter-craft stick, used in controlling the jets and tilt. A few minutes pass, and as team members start to pile in I'm struck by a delightful idea.

"Cory," Shepard greets me, ready to take his seat. "Hop out so we can get going."

"Afraid not, Shep."

"Huh?" fair enough. I look back towards the rest of the team.

"Shepard, I think I'm aligned with everyone else here, when I say, in no uncertain terms, your driving is terrifying." He glares at the the collected people in the passenger area, who turn away in sync.

"It's not that bad.." He mutters.

"It's pretty bad, Shepard." Garrus says.

"Quiet, you." He replies.

"Anyways," I continue. "I think it would be interesting to see how I handle it. Call it a trial run. All in favor?" I ask everyone. They look at each other, and a moment passes before all hands go up. Garrus raises both, with a grin to Shepard. "The I's have it, Shep."

"Hmph," He grunts, a sour expression on his face. "Fine, but I'm taking over when you flip it. It's a lot harder than it looks."

"I'm sure it is." I reply, looking about the dash. "Now, where are the wipers?"

(Garrus)

Humans are enigmas, at best. Their wide range of behaviors and principles are the subject of curiosity among the Council races. Every race has their minority of people who think about things in a different light; Among Turians, artists and musicians are few among a proud, militaristic people. But with Humans, each one you meet seems to have an entirely different perception from the last.

So it isn't a terrible stretch, I consider as we rumble across the uneven ground, That two could meet and have polar opposite skills in driving.

"Hey, Shepard." I call to him in the gunner seat. "Look, nobody's barfing." He shoots me a loaded look.

"You'll get yours, Vakarian." He growls at me, before looking back at Cory. "It has been a smoother ride than most." He concedes.

"Well, that's what happens when you use the gyro-stabilizers, Shep."

"What?" No. I unbelt myself and look over his shoulder. Sure enough...

"Shepard, we have gyro-stabilizers and you've never used them?" I ask, agape.

"Excuse me," Liara interjects. "Stabilizers in what form exactly?"

"It's similar to modern fighter-craft," Cory explains. "It keeps the operator and passengers' orientations in line."

"And stops them from barfing all over each other." Garrus finishes. Liara shoots a loaded glare at Shepard, everyone else looking decidedly irked.

"How was I to know?" Shepard says, raising his arms. "Look, the advanced course for Mako training was long, okay? And mostly by manual. Who has that kinda time?" The deadpan stares he receives in reply make him drop his arms. He turns back to his seat, and it's only then that we notice the lack of movement. Cory is stock-still, watching the environment. "Issues?" Shepard asks him.

"Maybe," He replies. "Take a look at the map."

"Okay," Shepard complies, looking about. "We're in a flat, bowl-shaped area, with mountains on all sides. the ground shows little movement out here, and..." Whatever dawns on Cory dawns on him, because he trails off and grabs Tali's shoulder. "Tali, any movement?"

"No, nothing's coming up... Wait, faint movement towards the center, but there's nothing there." She frowns. "Subterranean, maybe?" Cory presses on the pedal, and we gently lurch forward, making tracks for the hillside. "Whatever it is, it's on to us. Heading this way, fast." Cory floors it, demanding more acceleration from the Mako than it could provide. "100 meters... 75... 50... It's big... it's right on top of us." Tali's pitch climbs a bit as she says this last bit of information. "... It's gone." Naturally, that's when the planet would decide to explode right in front of us.

(Cory)

Thresher Maws. Large, territorial carnivores that have no business existing. As soon as I saw the layout of the area, it clicked in my brain. When Tali's scans confirmed it, I bolted. But it's far faster.

I slam on the brakes, Jerking the wheel to the right. Where we would've been a second from now, the ground erupts, the Maw slicing through the air in an explosion of dirt. As soon as it appears it burrows back down into the ground.

"Go, gogogogogo!" Shepard yells at me, and I don't hesitate, flooring it towards the mountainside.

We almost made it too. Almost.

It surfaces below us, catching the mid-left tire. One moment we're on the ground, then everything's spinning. People say things slow down in a fatal situation, but they really speed up. In a fraction of a second, I plant one hand on the roof and the other on the stick, burning the thrusters to counteract the spin. The landing's hard, and at an angle, But we bounce and land, mostly intact, on the rocks, engine temporarily stalled from the impact. It was so quick, I'm still processing it. I look at Shepard, who looks to be near-hyperventilating. "You good?"

"Sure." He answers. "As soon as we're on the ground." I shake my head at him, And look to Tali, gripping the seat as though she may fall out. I lay a hand on her arm, and she jumps, looking at me.

"Hey, we made it, alright?" She nods hesitantly, slowly releasing her grip on the armrests. I re-fire the engine, and Garrus pipes in from the back.

"What, no concern for us?" He calls, pretending to be hurt.

"I'm sorry," I say sarcastically. "Did the big, bad, Turian get a boo-boo back there? I thought you guys were supposed to be tough."

"We are!" He replies, frowning at how quickly he responded. "But when something like that happens, You don't really have a chance to be tough when you're pissing yourself."

"You got me there." I mutter.

"Righteous thinking, balancing us out Cory." Shepard tells me, finally getting some color back to his face.

"Yeah, I guess so." I respond absently, looking down at the stick a moment. My only question, how in the hell did I know to do that?

Five minutes of comparably calm driving later, and the Mako is overlooking the ridge to the smaller base. Garrus and I swiftly disembark, rifles in hand as we examine the squarish base entrance in person. No guards, one camera. A small cluster of sensors on the roof, monitoring the external tech. Shameful, or intentional?

"Garrus, take the camera." I tell him. "I've got the sensor." Even with the peashooter of a rifle, the sensor is torn into shreds. The camera hangs loosely from it's socket, and we nod to each other, stepping down to the building. A small detour to the back, and we're ready. Garrus observes as I place a rectangular black device on the swipe pad, flicking a switch on the side. The locked holo-pad vanishes, and I pry the door open with little effort. "For all technology has advanced, It's still subject to the simplest of tricks. ECM Jammer." I explain. "Has the ability to disrupt and circumvent signals and electronic locks, or disable them entirely, for a relatively short time. Frequency 141.80 will be unaffected if you need to get call through to Alpha team."

"Security is only useful when it's tested." Garrus says, staring at the device. "And most don't get the chance to rectify the weaknesses."

"True." I gesture to the second switch on the four-pronged box. "Hit that if you run into trouble out here. But cover your ears."

"Right." He answers, then freezes. "What do you mean, out here?" I sigh quietly.

"... I need to do this on my own. I have my own demons to face."

"Alone? It's suicide." He argues.

"Not quite. This isn't a head-on assault."

"Still. I had everyone at my back tackling Saleon."

"You did." I concede. "But I need to do this." I pause a moment, before taking my sniper rifle and laying it on the ground. A moment later, and I take my tags and wrap them around the weapon. "If I die in there, you extend this rifle and bury the barrel in the dirt here, the tags wrapped around the stock. Then you burn this place to the ground. A strange ritual, I know." I add. "But a friend of mine and I decided on this a long time ago. You leave the body inside."

"That's hardly a proper ceremony."

"It's appropriate. The spirit will live on, and the first thing it need is it's weapon, and it's identity. It needs that in order to remember it's cause. Else, it will wander aimlessly for all time."

"You humans are weird." He says, and I laugh.

"Perhaps. So, are we in agreement?" I ask him, and he locks eyes with me.

"We are." We shake on it, and I move to enter. A sudden thought halts me.

"And Garrus."

"Yes?"

"Nobody enters this place until I come out, or I flat-line. Nobody, okay? I can't hesitate." He gives me that long, searching look of his that says he's considering the implications of that statement, and nods. With little else to say, I enter, and slowly descend into the comms building.

Nineteen steps later, and I pass through a second door, unlocked this time. Two guards sit in this waiting area at a table, standing as I enter. "Sir," the larger one addresses me, stepping forward. 'Human, rifles, appearance suggest military training. Authoritarian approach' "This is a restricted area. You need clearance to enter this building." I roll my eyes at the man, my hood down and eyes cold.

"Let's pretend, for a moment," I sneer. "That I just so happened to wander into this classified building, on this no-purpose planet, with no idea what's here. Do you really think the words 'This is a restricted area' will magically make me decide to turn around and go?" The tone, body language, and mannerisms with which I say these words unnerve the men. I carry the tone of a man who would have them cleaning the entirety of the building with a toothbrush. "Contact your boss." The man in the back complies quickly, but frowns when all that comes back is static, courtesy of the second jammer at the base of the stairs.

"I can't get a response. Comms are down."

"Shit." The front man mutters. " Look, until communications come back up, you just need to wait here."

"You look," I counter. "Decker is expecting me, so unless you want to be reassigned as Thresher bait, take me to him." They look uneasy, but relent.

"Okay." He puts his hand out. "I'm going to need your sidearm." He addresses me.

"Sure." I respond easily, drawing the pistol and holding it by the slide. One step, two steps. Three.

"Hey," The man in the back exclaims. "Who are you talking to?" He asks me, pointing out my earpiece.

"Nobody," I answer. "Just music, here." My other hand goes up, tossing the small earpiece high above his head. Both sets of eyes follow it upward, a fatal knee-jerk reaction. Both my blades extend at the same time, one clipping the slide of my Five Seven and spinning the grip into my hand, the other finding purchase inside the man's skull. No time to admire, the pistol comes up and fires, the three suppressed shots coughing out into the second man's unshielded chest. A practiced and tested move, done in the span it takes someone to exhale.

Of course, The man having his finger wrapped around the trigger of his Lancer, reflexively firing into the floor was not part of the plan. I let out a small sigh, securing the inner and outer sections of my hood, and placing my communicator back in my ear. 2 down, 22 to go. Inhale, exhale.

"Do it, Garrus."

(Tali)

Fuming, is the only word I could use to describe my mood. Despite insisting his trust in me, Shepard still has the gall to tell me to wait in the Mako, and "Be available to provide backup to either group." Bosh'tet. I've proved myself, but he's still keeping me out of the fight.

I turn my mind from my bitterness, monitoring comms and vitals from the Mako's dash. Alpha team just breached the main facility, Bravo setting up on the comms facility. 'Humans have such strange names for squads.' I think absentmindedly, listening to the battle inside rather than experiencing it. "Garrus, do it." Chatters across the backup signal For Cory and Garrus, but nothing follows. I don't think much of it at first, but as the minutes wear on I start to get fidgety. I'm considering patrolling the perimeter when The vitals screen emits a large sequence of beeps. I scroll over to it and my heart drops. Cory's been injured. Elevated heart rate, blood loss. I look at Garrus' panel.

Nothing. Resting heart rate, no injuries.

"Bravo team." I call, getting only static. I switch to the backup frequency. "Bravo team."

"Go for Bravo team." Garrus answers me.

"What the hell is going on there?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?" He asks calmly.

"Co- Bravo Two is injured." I say, frowning. "And you're acting like you're still outside."

"Well... I am." He says, as if it was obvious.

"What! Why?" I demand.

"Bravo Two asked me to." He says evenly.

"Bosh'tet." I swear, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'm on my way."

"That might not be the best-" I turn the receiver off, rumbling off towards the comms relay. "Bosh'tets."

(Artemis)

'And it was going so well.' I think to myself, looking at the blood running down my leg as I take a moment's inventory.

"Garrus, do it." I pull a mask from my belt, running my hand over the surface. A relic from a world that didn't exist, Corvo's signature was fitted with modern technology, sealing with it's internal hood under my outer wear. Night vision picks up as Garrus kills the generator topside, bathing the darkened room in a ghostly light, the blood pooling around the guard's bodies shining. I let myself stare at it for a moment too long, snapping up as boots echo down the corridor ahead. I sprint down the hall, meeting the three-man team at the turn. Momentum sends the lead man into the wall, and a small spin brings the edge of my left blade through the middle man's neck, a terrific spray of blood coating my mask and the wall. His shields hold up against the rear man's panicked fire long enough for me to dispatch him. I turn, firing into first man's head, all before he can even stand. Five now.

More voices, the sounds of battle plans being drawn emanate from the end of the corridor, into the main room. I reload my pistol, keeping the half-empty mag in hand. An underhand toss sends it skittering into their view. As every pair of eyes stares in that direction, only half of them notice the flashbang following it right away. I rush into the space, P90 drawn as human eyes try desperately to readjust. Bursts of fire bring down two out of cover, though no screaming emanates from their comrades; the canister of phosphorous was left aboard the Normandy. I take up my own cover along the crates stacked up too high to see over, paying no mind to the biological labels as I peek around the corner. And it's then I feel my slip-up.

The shotgun blast tears into the back of my leg, the woman running up on me when I assumed the group still shell-shocked. I spin, arm coming up to force the weapon into the crate. She ducks, I bring my good knee up into her face, doing the same with a bullet for good measure. They're looking now, the cover fire slackening as some of them approach. I reach into a pocket, medi-gel applicator going into my leg as I prime another grenade. "Come on out Asshole!"

Six men approach the crate, recoiling as smoke explodes from the position. They aim, flashlights and infrared-equipped helmets painting the corner in light. as the smoke clears, they find... Nothing. Only the body of their comrade. They look around the room, moving around the crate. Only one man looks up as I descend from my perch, seeing the silver blade before it buries itself in his eye. "What the-"

I land in the middle of them, taking advantage of the sudden confusion in a series of swift jabs to the two in front of me. Blades extended, the men fall back as I spin around, ducking an armored fist and bringing my left hand to the man's throat, my right locking at his waist, pressing the switch on his frag grenade. I shove their friend-turned-murderer into the middle of the remaining two, turning the corner with P90 in hand as the explosion creates yet another blinding flash for all who were staring at it. "Fourteen."

(Tali)

I disembark the Mako shotgun in hand as I arrive, Garrus standing stoic outside the complex. "What is wrong with you?" I demand, nearly growling as he steps in the way of the door.

"Cory was very specific." He retorts. "Nobody in or out, no matter what."

"Are you really going stop me?" My voice drips with an unexpected venom, surprising the both of us. In that moment, something in his expression shifts, though it slips away before my clouded mind can register it.

"... He didn't want to hesitate. His words." He adds quietly. "I knew that look on his face. Same as I had when we went after Saleon."

"So, you thought letting him go in there alone was a good idea?" He frowns.

"No, but some things have to be done. And I owed him, for helping me." I push past him impatiently, starting to descend down the stairs.

"If he dies because of this, You better get used to living with one arm Vakarian." I call over my shoulder.

"You sound like a Turian." He calls back.

Emergency lighting strips line the floor, a yellowish glow showing the way out. I follow it forward, stepping over the bodies of two humans. One bled out from the neck, another dead from the gaping holes in his chest. Following the trail, I pass by more. So much chaos, all at the hands of one. It doesn't seem real, more like a violent and daring new addition to a horror house, something Ashley spoke fondly of as a prominent feature on Earth.

I step into the main room weapon raised, but there is no need. An eerie quiet is interrupted only by my own footsteps as I check the corners and darker spots of the room, the visor-mounted flashlight on my armor only showing more bodies, all of them wearing dress uniforms or armor bearing the same logo. A crash ahead, the sound of someone slamming something, or someone, into electronics. I hurry towards the sound, following the trail of destruction. "Wait."

I jump at the sound, shotgun leveled at the woman on the ground. "P-please," She begs me, a hand reaching out at my leg as the other tries desperately to hold her face together. "Help me." I step away from her, jaw tight as I continue. "Wait!" She gasps as I'm about to enter the hall. "Don't go in there!" I turn back towards her. "He's crazy. He came in here like a storm... Tore everyone apart. He'll kill you!" She tries to warn me.

"No, he won't." I reply, entering the hall, voices echoing down it. Another furious, close-in battle took place, blood misting up the walls on both sides. Laying among the bodies is a blood-stained mask, a darkened metal with struts seemingly holding the lower piece together, with a long gap in the middle of it. A blue glow emanates from the left eyepiece, and leather stitching holds the inner part together, with ballistic cloth the front-most layer. 'For more than psychological effect.' I muse, tracing the slug-mark on the cheek with a thumb. I grab it, securing it to my belt as I move down the hall, Following the rising voices.

(Cory)

The last two drop outside the security room. I open the door, blade extended and pistol drawn as I step inside. The man before me has his back turned, facing the monitors. Watching the mess I just made. He looks at me over his shoulder. "My, don't you look a fright."

I catch a look at my reflection in one of the downed monitors. Clothing splattered with blood, the lighting giving it an unnatural glow. The eyes I'm looking into... It's fast, too fast for me to consider it, the look I see there. I close my eyes a moment, and the reason I'm here speaks again as I holster my pistol, blade sliding back into it's recess.

"So, all this destruction... To whom do I owe the carnage?" He asks, facing me.

"Yourself, Doctor." I say quietly, pulling my hood down. "And project Titan."

"Titan..." He murmurs. "Of course. Good to see you again... Epsilon."

"Don't." I bark. "My name, my title, none of it should leave your mouth."

"I gifted you that name, you know. It's mine to use, as much as yours." I stare into his cold eyes, looking for fear, apprehension.

"You really shouldn't argue with a man who just slaughtered your whole facility, Doctor."

"But don't you see? You couldn't have done this," He gestures to the monitors replaying the last ten minutes. "Without me. I gave you this power."

"You're sick." I spit at him. "You took a child and created a demon."

"You were already unstable." He replies. "Rage and sorrow, with no direction. I shaped you, gave you a razor's edge. You should thank me. Alpha, Delta, Gamma and Sigma, all powerful forces. Titans." Rage boils over, and I lift the man by his lab jacket, slamming him into a monitor.

"Do you even know their names?!" I demand, slamming him yet again into the wall-mounted screen. "Stefan Bashkir," A deathly pale man, with a wide scar on his face. "Domovoi Yusarn," The powerful Eurasian with a spark of kindness in him. "Zoey Mortara," A intelligent girl, enduring the worst of it to give us hope. "Kai Okana," A quiet man, more than I got to know. "Cory Weston. They all died there, you know." He laughs at this. "Don't believe me?" He shakes his head. I let him drop a moment, before sending him headlong into the filing cabinets on the side. His legs buckle, sending down to ground, facing me.

"WE ALL DIED THERE, DECKER." Blood pounds behind my eyes, burning as it courses through me. "Either your 'Training' was too much, or it stripped away those who endured it. All that's left is a name. A title, with no real meaning. Disposable. Your Titans." He smiles, raising from his sitting position. A right cross meets him at the top, and he grips the cabinet handle for support. "That, was for Stefan." Left cross, shot to the right kidney. Again, and again. "That was for Dom." A right hook to the jaw, and Decker slides back down the cabinet. "That, was for Kai." He spits, blood and saliva landing short of me.

"You're looking at this through a tunnel." He rolls his head a bit. "I tire of this recital. Get it over with." He glares at me, one eye swelling.

"You're right." I say suddenly, emotion gone from my voice. I draw my pistol, safety snapping off in a practiced motion.

"Cory." I close my eyes a moment.

"Tali." I reply, not looking back. "So, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." I steel myself, getting ready for the argument for why this man should not die. "Killing him doesn't bring them back." I flinch, not ready for this approach. "You kill him now, and you only affirm that you're nothing but that demon."

"I am, that demon."

"No, you aren't. You're still Cory, still that kind, rock steady guy who holds the sorrow and pain of all he's lost. Who holds it not to suffer, but so that those names never fade. You're still Cory to your friends, your daughter, me."

"So much pain..." I mutter. "because of him. Suffering, for a pointless cause. He doesn't deserve to live." She swallows, forcing herself to continue.

"He took so much from you... But you can heal." She steps forward, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Walk away from this. Please." I exhale shakily, and slowly, ever so slowly...

The gun lowers, and I turn to her. "Thank you." Decker is standing now, looking from me to Tali.

"Pathetic," He snarls. "You're no Titan. You're just a coward, hiding behind a Suit-Ra-"

I spin, faster than he can react to, pistol back up. The two rounds that enter his knee elicit a scream of anguish that echoes throughout the room. I fire again, and the other knee taking the same treatment. Decker shakes a bit, sobbing a bit as he tries to cradle his legs.

"That... Is for Zoey." I breathe. I step towards him, and land a kick to his temple. As Decker drifts into unconsciousness, I take a knee.

"And who was that for?" Tali asks me.

"That one was mine." I confess, zip-tying his hands together expertly. "It'll keep him quiet long enough to get him topside." I stand.

"You know, I meant what I said, when I-" I stop her mid sentence, hugging her.

"Thank you." I say quietly. She returns the hug hesitantly.

"For what?"

"Stopping me. Believing in me. Even if I don't believe it myself." I step away, pulling my mask from her belt. "Thanks for grabbing this."

"Of course." She looks to the monitors, grabbing an osd from a pocket. "But you aren't that demon, you know." She says, copying the data from the terminal.

"Maybe not." I say. "But I'm not normal. I'm somewhere in between... Or both of them, at the same time." I secure the mask to my face, letting my emotion show underneath it. I pick up Decker, fireman-style as Tali finishes at the terminal.

"Normal is overrated anyways." She says, a light tone and bright eyes conveying it. I tilt my head a bit, and bring up my hand, brushing index and middle finger over her visor. A gesture meaningless to her, but she picks up on the happy feeling anyways as I bring up a song on my Omni-tool. As we begin the trip to the surface, I know I have a chance to make things right.

"I know... It's a fine, fine line"

A/N: Here we are again. So, my apologies to those of you who've been waiting. I'm not gonna excuse it... I just haven't tried hard enough to write this. That's my bad. This is the better draft of a dozen, so here it is. I hope you all enjoy. And if you'll forgive my sounding like a broken record, thanks.

[Secondary note: I'm editing this while very tired. Forgive spelling/grammar mistakes I may have missed.]