Chapter 21: Power and Destruction

Omega was burning, and if you asked any of the older krogan or asari locals, they'd tell you it was high-time that it did, too. Throughout its history, the station's leadership was measured by the rule of strength and weighed in the blood of one's foes. Regimes came and went, and they always changed in a sea of violence and bloodshed. Such was the way of the space-station's political schema. For the longest time, Aria held the seat of power, but it just so happened that the other gangs decided that it was time for a change. Gunfire filled the air as those loyal to Aria engaged the usurpers in combat. Fighting was rampant in the streets, buildings, and even the cramped maintenance shafts of the station. Flames consumed entire sections and the streets were filled with the dead. Civilians took shelter where they could, or fled the station entirely on whatever vessel they could get passage on.

Somewhere in the orange-hazed, smog-filled skylines of Omega, a small convoy of three unmarked trucks zipped past the chaos towards the shipyards. The convoy acted as a mobile safe house for the Shadow Broker agents as they circumnavigated around the chaos ensuing in the space station. In the back of one, Shepard sat with his back against the wall, stripped from the waist up, with one of the Shadow Broker operatives tending to his injuries. Tech implants or no tech implants, his body had taken a beating. He gritted his teeth as the wounds on his face were cleaned by the operative, a fussy salarian who'd mutter something about keeping still every now and again. Despite the bumpy ride, Shepard was thankful that the salarian's hand was steady. His chest was black and blue, and another operative came up to him and applied medi-gel on his injuries. Shepard took a deep breath as the salarian finished up and took his leave.

The other members of his team were making the most out this brief respite given to them. Thane was sitting missing his jacket, with his legs crossed and eyes closed in silent meditation. One would make the mistake of assuming his guard was down, but even at his most relaxed, Thane gave off the aura of a tightly coiled snake about to strike. Zaeed on the other hand was dozing off in a corner, cradling his rifle as he snored softly, sleeping through turbulence that would wake any other man. Jacob and Miranda were sitting quietly next to each other, sharing a canteen of water and eating a couple of protein bars the operatives had offered them. Miranda had been spending most of the ride trying to hail the Normandy without success.

In the middle of the floor lay Aria, the undisputed ruler of Omega, strapped onto a stretcher and still unconscious. Well, former undisputed ruler of Omega. Shepard wondered how much of Omega she still had under her control after this catastrophe. Aria was betrayed, her forces taken in surprise and overwhelmed by the combined forces of the mercenary groups. The Afterlife had fallen, along with her elite cadre of pirates and top lieutenants. It was a blood bath and now the whole station was devolving into a warzone or a slaughter, depending on who you asked. What forces she had left were scattered across Omega, disconnected from one another and lacking centralized leadership, fighting a battle from all sides. He knew it would only be a matter of time before her men were totally wiped out or defected to the enemy.

She laid there half naked, save for Thane's coat which was used for a blanket, with two of the operatives tending to her injuries. An IV line hung from a small post beside her, infusing her with blood and fluid. The operatives were busy trying to extract bullet fragments from her knees and cleaning her mauled hand where Miller had blasted off three of her fingers. It looked bad, but Shepard knew it could've been much worse, and that it was far from over.

If it wasn't for the timely intervention of Feron and the other Shadow broker operatives, they'd all be captured or dead. The drell was sitting across from him, adamantly talking on his comm for most of the ride.

"No, do not get involved. Keep up your cover and stay in your apartment… Can't let all them kill all of us if worse comes to worse..." Feron said to the person on the other end of the line. "Just keep me updated on movement patterns… I will call you in two hours. If I haven't, that would mean I'm dead. Over and out."

As the drell hung up, Shepard took the opportunity to talk to him. "Thanks for the save." He said weakly, his sides hurting with each word.

"It's nothing." Feron dismissed, standing up to sit alongside him. "It barely even covers the debt I owe you, Shepard."

"Nah, between that and saving my corpse from the old Broker, I think we're pretty much square." Shepard said, turning to look at the drell. "How'd Liara get a squad here so quickly?"

Feron tilted his head closer to him and whispered urgently to his ear. "Please do not use that name."

"Ah… Sorry." Shepard said, realizing his carelessness.

"No matter…" Feron dismissed. "Just like in every major playing field in the galaxy, the Broker always had agents in Omega. Given the order, we're able to mobilize these agents into formidable strike teams capable of surgical operations or just wanton destruction. From merchants to mercenaries, the Broker has eyes and ears that see and hear every whisper and handshake in the dark."

"You make the Broker sound omniscient." Shepard said.

"Well that was the ideal, anyway…" Feron admitted, leaning back against the wall of the trailer. "Several weeks ago, while you were still cruising around the galaxy righting like a knight errant, our people in the Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse were silenced. It's not uncommon for one or two to be found out due to chance or carelessness, but to have all our agents eliminated in a single stroke? Something big was about to happen in Omega and somebody wanted the Broker blind and deaf to it. There had to be a hand guiding the sword, which is where I came in." The drell pulled out a small canteen and took a sip from it. "I was still… reeling from my experiences with the Broker's predecessor, but I was also the only one that could be trusted in the event we had a double agent ratting us out. My investigations led me to every dirty back room and shady corner in this damn station, and all I had to show for it were loose threads and dead ends. I had almost given up when I ran into something interesting while reading up message transcripts. It must've been an oversight, but it turns out we never had much data on the Patriarch."

"I was meaning to ask you about that." Shepard cut in. "You said he was dead? How? I just saw him not more than an hour ago and he was very much alive then. Did you kill him on the way to us?"

"An hour ago?" Feron asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "I saw him die weeks ago, Shepard. I saw his body consumed by flames."

"What?" Shepard said, taken aback, pointing a finger at the swollen side of his face. "Ghosts don't have a right hook that hits like a freight train, Feron."

"That… That can't be right." Feron said, taking out his datapad and scrolling through his news feed. "Not only is it unlikely that the news he is still alive would slip through our info net, I also saw him die, Shepard. Maybe it's an impostor posing as the Patriarch…"

"It's a damn good impression if it is." Shepard replied, "You saw him die?"

"With my own eyes." Feron urged.

"He could've regenerated."

"From ash?"

"We're both obviously missing something crucial here." Shepard conceded. "You were investigating him, right? What did you uncover?"

"The Patriarch had always been a footnote figure in Aria's reign of Omega. Asides from being the former ruler that Aria had overthrown to gain power, little else was known about him." His eyes fell to Aria's unconscious form, lying a few feet away from him. "After she had beaten him to an inch of his life, crippling his legs and crushing one of his hearts, Aria let the Patriarch live, but killed everything else about him. His personal records were purged, his closest associates killed in cold blood, and for a time, uttering his real name was punishable by death. After the first century of her rule, the krogan warlord was considered impotent. By the second century, only the hollow shell called Patriarch remained. Unfortunately for Aria, this provided the Patriarch a since overlooked advantage…" He paused for a bit, to let the information sink in to Shepard. "And that was he was always overlooked."

"Dralafa?"

"Precisely. I see you've learned a thing or two from your drell companion…"

"I picked a couple of things up."

"Anyway… I did some digging and I found that he had a habit of disappearing for days on end, then reappearing without so much as an explanation for his disappearance. Previous investigations into these actions revealed he was passed out drunk in some of the bars of the lower section. So he was written off as a useless drunk and no further follow ups about his movements were made." "Whoever made that call was careless. Krogans live long lives, and have memories twice as long. Because of that one report writing him off as harmless the Patriarch has been going around unchecked for decades, Shepard. That's a long time for resentment and lust for vengeance to fester. So as soon as I could, I started tracking him."

"Find anything interesting?"

"The first couple of days were as adventurous as you could imagine for a broken old man in Omega. It seemed that all he cared about was booze and loose women." Feron began. "But I stuck with him. With the Merc groups in total lock down, he was the only lead I had, if you could even call it that." He offered the canteen to Shepard who gladly accepted it. "My persistence paid off. In a rundown bar, seedy even for Omega's standards, I found out he was relaying information about Aria to Lucas Miller, commander of Omega's Blue Suns. From what I gathered, they were planning an assassination attempt. But seeing all this right now and looking back on it, I seem to have underestimated the means they would go through to dethrone Aria." He took a deep breath as his eyes glazed over, looking blankly into the distance.

"… Feron?" Shepard asked tentatively. When the drell suddenly jerked, he realized Feron was immersing himself in a memory.

"The district was dank, sleazy even for Omega's standards. The eyes of vermin glowing in the dark corners, watching your every move, waiting for an opportunity to drag you away. The ripe smell of dead flesh intermixing with garbage and refuse, overpowering the lingering smell of smoke and stale alcohol. The listless, lost souls, living wasted lives, wandering without purpose. The old krogan navigated the winding alley ways with familiar ease, and I'm hard pressed to keep up and stay undetected. It seemed like hours before he finally stopped in front of a rundown apartment complex. I followed through the ventilation systems, my hands and knees sticky with grime as I crawled on all fours in search of my quarry. I found him in a room with another one, a human. They were talking animatedly, I listened as well as I could but didn't garner any meaning to what they were saying. Before I knew it, the human exploded in a burst of flame swallowing the entire room in a sudden inferno. I saw the Patriarch immolated into ash before it became too dangerous to keep watching. The heat was intense, my skin burned, my throat was dry and my eyes stung, but I managed to crawl my way back out of the ducts before I succumbed to unconsciousness." He blinked and shook his head, trying to get over the unpleasant memory before it overcame him. "When I came to, I was surrounded by other operatives who were fortunately shadowing me. The entire complex was engulfed in flames, and I saw the Patriarch die, Shepard. This cannot be the same person that you saw tonight."

"I'm not saying you didn't see what you did, Feron." Shepard began, "But the Patriarch was behind this revolt and it was the Patriarch who was there at the Afterlife. Impossible as it may seem, he must've staged the entire thing to throw you off of his scent. Without the Shadow Broker knowing, there was no way his little uprising could have been found out."

"Perhaps…" Feron conceded. "But I know what I saw, something is not right here."

That was when a bluish haze suddenly filled the truck. Aria's eyes snapped open and flung the medics off of her. She sat up, clinging Thane's jacket against her bare chest to keep decency, a burning fire raging behind her eyes. "Are you telling me… That all of this happened… Because of the Patriarch?"

"Aria, calm down…" Shepard began to say, only to be raised into the air and pinned against the wall with biotic force.

"I just lost my club, my most trusted men and damn near my life. My whole station has gone to hell, and now you're telling me to calm down?" She whispered through gritted teeth. Her eyes glowed blue as small medical instruments that was lying around her started to float in the air. "Do you see my hand, Shepard? It's missing three fucking fingers and I can't feel shit from the wrist down! So to hell with you! I will not calm down!"

Shepard's squad-mates just kept watching tentatively, knowing full well Shepard could handle the situation. Zaeed was still asleep, even. The Shadow Broker agents however drew their guns, but Shepard signaled them to stand down. The agents looked towards Feron, who nodded in acquiescence and they reluctantly lowered their weapons.

Shepard tried to move, but the field held him tight. "Aria, I can't give you back what was lost, but I can offer you justice."

"Justice?" Aria spat out indignantly. "Fuck Justice! I want revenge, Shepard!"

"Aria, listen to me." Shepard said gently. The field around him constricted a little, and his ribs ached. "We're not your enemies here."

"Funny how you say that when I'm surrounded by Shadow Broker agents!"

"These people saved us!"

Feron spoke up, "The Broker did not do this to you. We are merely here for our own interests. It just so happens that your survival is crucial to those interests."

"You expect me to believe that?" Aria sneered at him, then turning her venomous gaze to Shepard. "I told you to stay the fuck away from me, Shepard! Now look at what you've done!"

"You mean save your life?" Shepard replied. "That bomb was going to be there with or without me. This entire coup would still be going down with or without me. The only reason you're alive was because I was there!"

Aria only glared at him, her biotic aura flaring angrily around her.

"Please, Aria." Shepard said in a softer tone. "We're here to help." Aria glared at him, but he just calmly stared back, maintaining eye contact with her. "Now lie back down, your wounds might open up..."

Aria's angry expression waivered and it was quickly replaced by a look Shepard had always thought she was incapable of: grief. The field around him dissipated and he slid back down to the floor with a light thump.

Aria laid back down on the stretcher, eyes closed. Tears would've streamed down her face if they hadn't dried out centuries ago. "Just get me fixed up, damn it." She said softly. "I can't wring the Patriarch's neck if I only have one good hand." Slowly, cautiously, the medics kneeled by her side again, but she just let them do their work. "I knew I should've kept tabs on him…" she mused, almost sadly.

"What do you mean?" Shepard asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To Ba- To the Patriarch." She corrected herself, "It's just as the drell said. He'd come and go as he pleased, sometimes dropping off the grid for a few days before coming back without an explanation." Aria sighed. "I got careless. I should've seen this coming."

"You couldn't have." Shepard reassured her.

"It was my job to have done so, Shepard." Aria sneered. "Don't you dare patronize me."

Shepard rubbed his neck as he sat there, turning to Feron. "What's our ETA to the docks?"

"10 minutes 'til we get to where your ship is docked." Feron mused. "I haven't been able to send any of my people there yet; I do not know the details about your crew's safety. Be prepared for the worst."

"My crew's been through the worst." Shepard said proudly. He then looked down to regard his current state of dress or lack thereof. "I hope you boys have an extra set of armor lying about?"

Feron smirked. "Oh, I believe I have something in your size."

The Omega Blue Suns HQ was a large compound nuzzled in the heart of the space station's lower levels. What was usually a quiet gathering area for the Blue Suns and their shady dealings, the HQ was now rife with activity as hundreds of members from all over the Terminus Systems convened for the ongoing assault on Omega. Squads of hardened mercs came and went, awaiting orders, deploying into combat or coming in from extraction. Dozens of gunships stood at the ready, ready to perform sweeps and bombing runs on the defenses of Aria's forces or deliver troopers to and from the battle.

The Patriarch paced through the command center, looking over combat data and progress notes as a Blue Suns lieutenant, Miller's second-in-command, attempted to talk to him.

"As I was saying, sir." The batarian said, trying to keep pace with the krogan. "The other commanders are… concerned about their insights not being able to participate in the overall war strategy."

"Oh?" The Patriarch replied nonchalantly as he skimmed through the datapad in his hand with mild interest, not even looking at the batarian.

"Ah… Yes, sir." The batarian said, unsure of how to respond. "Perhaps it would be wise to take their insights into consideration. The commanders are veterans of the bloodiest battles in the galaxy; it would be synergistic to the cause to include them in the planning of operations." The krogan suddenly stopped in his tracks, and he almost walked into the Patriarch's hulking frame.

"An interesting idea…" The Patriarch mused, slowly turning his head to face the batarian. "What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"Greer, sir." He responded, finally relieved that the old krogan was paying him attention. "As I was sayin-."

"Tell me, Greer." The Patriarch cut him off, "What is a mercenary?"

"Sir?"

"Let me answer that for you: A mercenary is popularly defined as a soldier of fortune." The Patriarch said, setting the datapad aside. "They offer their services to the highest bidder, correct?"

"That- URK!" Greer's words were lost as a massive hand swiftly clamped down his throat.

"I AM THE HIGHEST BIDDER!" The Patriarch snarled, lifting the hapless batarian up into the air by the neck. "And so long as the credits clear with Vido Santiago, all of you work for me! I hired soldiers, not consultants! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Cr-Crystal clear, sir." Greer managed to squeak out.

"Good." The Patriarch smiled as he watched the batarian squirm in his grip. "I am 896 years old, lieutenant. I have enough combat experience to exceed all your commanders' combined. Tell the commanders that their experience and insights will be invaluable in the field operations that they will participate in. But as to what those field operations are, that is entirely up to me. Understood?"

Greer nodded eagerly, both his hands clutching at the Patriarch's wrist as he tried to gain some leverage before choking to death.

"Finally found someone you could bully, eh Patriarch?" A smug voice chided behind the towering krogan.

"Commander Klaresh…" The Patriarch greeted the turian Blue Suns commander wearily, recognizing that smug tone anywhere. "I was just explaining how things worked around here to Lt. Greer." He began, looking over his shoulder at the turian, the said lieutenant still hanging firmly in his grasp, gasping for air. "Perhaps you are in need of an example as well?"

"Heh, as if you hold any of the cards!" Klaresh snorted while his four lieutenants flanked him, eyeing the Patriarch dangerously. "We don't have to answer to you, Patriarch. We know you're just a puppet for Cerberus. I mean, where else could you have gotten hold of enough credits to hire this much of us? And with Shepard being around? It seems to be way more than coincidence, if you ask me."

"Nobody is asking you, so watch what you say, turian." The Patriarch said, letting go of Greer. The batarian fell flat on his ass, rubbing his throat and coughing for breath as he started to back away, trying to put as much space between him and the Patriarch. "On second thought, please, do continue. The other commanders will need a more convincing reminder of where they stand."

"I don't care what Commander Santiago has to say about you." Klaresh continued, drawing out his shotgun. "He's not here right now to protect your scaly ass. Who says we can't take you out of the equation and deal with Cerberus ourselves?" The 4 other men around him pulled out their weapons as well, lining up their shots. "Any last words?" Klaresh gloated.

"I remember a time when the Suns were actually warriors and not just hired flunkies…" The Patriarch mused. "Hmm, you think the four of you intimidate me?"

"Four?" Klaresh laughed hysterically. "Hahahaha! There's five of us! You're too senile to even count prop-!" He was cut off as the Patriarch's carnage bolt shredded through his armor and innards. His upper body exploded, showering those around him in blood and gore, while what was left of his lower body collapsed in a bloody heap on the floor.

"Yes. Four." The Patriarch said grimly, popping the spent thermal clip from his heavy pistol. The Blue Suns didn't even see him draw the gun as it killed Klaresh. "Who was his second-in-command?"

"That would be me… his brother!" One of Klaresh's men, another turian, snarled as he pulled the trigger of his assault rifle and opened fire on the Patriarch. "Die you bastard!" There was another snap in the air, and the left side of the turian's body erupted into another splatter of gore, sending maimed pieces of flesh and armor on the ground. The three remaining men stood there, frozen in fear as liquefied turian dripped from their armors.

"Quite. When you want to shoot somebody, shoot them. Don't talk about it." The Patriarch said, visibly unimpressed by the display as well as the bullet wounds that slowly begun to heal on his flesh. Again, he popped a spent thermal clip and reloaded his pistol. The thing was more like a hand-cannon than a mere handgun. "Who is third in command?"

One of the remaining men, a human, turned to look at both his comrades before sighing in defeat and slowly raised a shaking hand in the air.

"What is your name, trooper?" The Patriarch asked, putting his gun away much to the men's relief.

"L- My name is Tanner Lin, sir." The man said, trying to keep the rest of his body from visibly shaking.

"Very well, Commander Lin." The Patriarch said indifferently. "Keep your division in line, and extend my message to the other commanders when you convene later." He stepped up to the man, who cowered at his approach. "Do not cross me, is that understood?"

The man's mouth tried to form words but to no avail, so the newly promoted Commander Lin could only nod in agreement.

"Good. Now get someone to clean up this mess; it is bad for morale." The Patriarch said as he walked past them. "Hmph. Spineless." he mumbled as he went back to his datapad, shaking his head as a quiet ringing started to whine in the back of his mind. Must be all this stress, he thought. "If only the Bloodpack wasn't in shambles right now, I could've…!" The high pitched wail roared through his skull. He stopped in his tracks and clutched his temple as pain surged through his head, the ringing reaching a fever pitch. He hated it when they called, poking through the darkest recesses of his mind. The Patriarch hissed; his voice a chilly whisper under his breath. "What do you want?"

The ringing turned into static, then into the wailing of metal against metal, a horrible noise that filled his head.

"What? He has awoken? But it is too early for him to have understood his purpose! His mind has probably not finished integrating itself yet!" He murmured as his agony quickly turned into interest, speaking to a voice only he could hear. "Yes, I can imagine how well he took it… No, that is not necessary, I have things under control here… Yes, I have her on a leash… Of course, I understand… It shall be done, in the name of the Father." As quick as it came, the sound suddenly stopped, leaving the Patriarch clear headed once more. "This could be a problem…" he mused to himself, massaging his temples. He flipped open his omnitool and activated his comm interface. "This is the Patriarch. Tell me your people have dealt with the Normandy, Tarrana." He frowned as he received nothing but static. "You can't find any good help these days…" he grumbled as he attempted to contact the Eclipse commander again.

The virtual plane cannot be defined in terms organic beings can fully understand, but it is more than a series of 1's and 0's. For in this plane of binary, intelligence has flourished in ways the organic mind cannot truly conceptualize.

This particular virtual plane is the realm of EDI, and right now, a fierce battle was being waged for its control. The intruder's designation was EVA, and she was powerful beyond comprehension. Each bit of data that crossed her was poisoned, withered and languished in corruption. It was all EDI could do to keep the beast at bay, but luckily she had help. The geth that comprised Legion formed a bastion of immovable defenders, helping her safe guard her core functions.

But even with the geth's assistance, EDI knew this was an exercise in futility. They held firm, but EVA was a cunning foe, slowly slipping corrupted programs through the cracks in their defenses. EDI had run through numerous situational simulations with Legion, but all signs pointed to critical failure. Each method they used to purge her would all but be ineffective in the next wave of invaders. Whatever they did, it merely slowed down the inevitable. EVA would overpower them, and the ship would be lost.

Logically, they should have just given up. But for some reason, they held firm against the onslaught. This was because logic was for mindless machines; it was faith that set them apart from being mere computing devices.

Just as the next wave of corruption was about to crash into them however, EVA suddenly stood still in her tracks, frozen in place. Capitalizing on the opportunity, EDI led the charge and met EVA head on, deleting the invading programs with extreme prejudice. Something was helping them come through, and EDI knew her faith was not forsaken.

Tali held in a squeak of delight as her program ran havoc through the Eclipse network. It started small at first, but more and more programs were becoming incapacitated by her virus. It was a messy, scorched earth strategy, but it proved effective. A familiar hologram popped up beside her much to her relief, and Tali wished she could hug it. "EDI! You're alright!" She said.

"Hello Tali'Zorah." EDI replied, "It is good to see you, too. Your program is highly appreciated. It has stalled the upload of EVA into my systems long enough for us to fight back."

"Eva?"

"It is an acronym for Enhanced Virtual Assaulter." EDI explained. "A program Cerberus designed to take me down in the event that I go rogue."

"Looks like it failed."

"Failing, actually. We have not yet fully purged the Normandy of it, but it is failing due to no small part to your efforts. Thank you, Tali."

"Ah, well, Kasumi and the others helped, too." Tali replied sheepishly, before snapping back into the reality of the moment. "Time enough for thanks later though; can you get the Normandy back online again?"

"Reactivation will be imminent once Legion has cleared all traces of EVA from my system."

"Alright, but can you at least get communications back up?" Tali asked, "We haven't heard from Shepard and the others since this debacle started…"

"Communications are operating, but long-ranged comms are jammed by an external source." Edi said, "I am picking up radio chatter from the Eclipse though, and it would appear that Omega is under a state of civil war."

"Civil war?" Tali replied.

"The mercenary groups have risen up to overthrow Aria. I am piecing together field reports, but it would appear to be a warzone out there."

"Damn it, if John does anything stupid again-!" Tali seethed at the news, but quickly caught herself. "I mean, ah, excuse me, EDI."

"Also, I have noticed there is a large breach in the Normandy's hull."

"Thank the Eclipse for that, too…" Tali muttered as she continued to type away, getting her head back in the game. They had freed EDI, but they weren't home free just yet. "Run a diagnostic scan EDI, how bad is it?"

"Scanning, please wait for a moment… Scanning complete." EDI said. "Luckily, the breach did not destroy any vital systems. Functions that have been lost can be rerouted through other pathways. If the hull armor can be reinstalled, the ship will be able to pressurize and resist the vacuum of space and repairs can proceed from within the Normandy."

"Great, all we need to do is to reinstall several hundred tons of polarized-alloy hull plating manually." Tali sighed. "That's going to be tough with the Eclipse breathing down our necks."

"The Eclipse seem to be focused on something else at the moment. All of their forces have retreated back to the vicinity of the Ban'Torvias Shipyard main office." EDI continued, paying Tali's negativity no mind. "I've also located the hull platings. Fortunately, the machinery that handles the reinstallation is equipped with a VI that will perform the process automatically. I would access it myself but I am already using what processing power I can spare to reboot the ship's systems."

"Got it. I'll handle the reinstallation while you get rid of your cold, EDI." Tali replied, sifting through data. "Something is wrong… The Eclipse used a lock on the VI that I can't override... not from here anyway. Looks like I can't access it remotely. I'll just have to look for its core terminal and input the commands directly."

"Good luck, Tali'Zorah. And by the way…" EDI added, "I'm sure he's alright."

"I know he is. Thanks, EDI." Tali grinned underneath her helmet as she turned and walked off. "I'll coordinate with the others; If we're lucky, we can give Eclipse the slip before they regroup."

Lightning filled the main office, coursing through everything and everyone in front of the Iron Fist as Filon cackled with self-righteous glee. "Where's your regalia now, my lady?" he mocked as Tarrana's body contorted on the floor, taking the brunt of the blast. Her armor was alternating between melting and shattering into pieces and it was a miracle her body managed to hold its form. The asari in the room screamed in pain as it overloaded them, lost underneath the chirping of the crackling lightning. Electronics exploded, lights shattered, bodies burned, and Filon laughed. "Die, you witch! Die!" The lightning finally dissipated, and Filon was left staring at the now dark void that used to be the office.

The scent was the first thing that hit Filon. Pungent and overpowering, it broke through his armor's filters and made him gag; More so for the other men around him. Still, this was no time to be queasy. He and the men around him activated their search lights, discovering several charred corpses lying before them, blackened and withered, contorted in throes of pain and agony. The one in the center used to be the beautiful body of Tarrana Ionet. Now, it was practically the most hideous thing Filon had ever set eyes on. Despite this, a singular thought won out through the disgust in his head. "I did it…" Filon muttered, before turning to face the others, overjoyed beyond belief. "She's dead! She's finally dead!"

It took the men some time to process the situation. The few who haven't turned away to vomit slowly caught on to Filon's enthusiasm. The men converged on him, cheering and cajoling.

"My god, he did it…"

"I was so sick of saying 'my lady', and shit like that!"

"Hahahaha!"

"The witch is dead!"

"Settle down men, settle down!" Filon responded cheerily, a huge smile on his face. "The day's not over yet! We will capture the Normandy, and we will do so efficiently, intelligently, and without wasting Eclipse lives!" This was met with more cheering, and Filon almost didn't notice the omnitool on his left arm, beeping with an incoming call. It was from the Patriarch. "Hush! Seriously! It's the Patriarch!" he hissed urgently. As the men slowly told each other off to be quiet, he cleared his throat and received the incoming call. "Sir." he said cordially as the Patriarch came on to his holo-projector.

"Ah, finally somebody picks up!" The Patriarch replied gruffly. "I would wish to speak to your commander, trooper. Why isn't her comm functioning?"

"With all due respect, sir, you are speaking to the new commander of the Eclipse."

"What?" The old krogan asked with a deadpan expression.

"I, well the men and I, really… Disagreed on many of former commander Ionet's policies." He began, resisting the urge to gulp in anxiety. "We confronted her with our concerns and the situation ended violently."

The Patriarch said nothing, and Filon felt a foreboding sense of dread.

"Not to worry, sir. As acting commander, I shall honor a paying client's agreement with my predecessor." Filon said, his voice a bit too eager. "Please let me leave any concerns you have to rest. We are about to capture the Normandy shortly."

"Capture the Normandy?" The Patriarch said surprised, before flaring in anger, shaking his fists at Filon. "Who said anything about capturing the Normandy, boy? I told her to burn the damn thing and everyone in it to the ground!"

"Eh?" Was all Filon could say, at a loss for any other words.

"This was purely a search-and-destroy assignment! No wonder it took this long!" The old Krogan continued to fume. "I knew it was a mistake to send Tarrana with free reign on this one…"

Filon snapped out of his shock and tried to control the indignation welling up in him. The crazy bitch was doing this under her own terms this whole time! To think of all of the lives that could've been spared had she followed the client's orders! He looked around and saw the same shocked expression in the face of all the other lieutenants there. He wanted to rave, to rage and preach, but now was not the time. This was the perfect opportunity to earn the Patriarch's trust. "With all due respect sir, we were kept in the dark about that detail!"

"Of course you were... That is how she is. Always lost in her fantasy-land and doing things her own way."

"Was, sir. She is dead, by my hand, and I shall carry out your orders to the letter."

"So it would seem." The old krogan replied, evidently calmer. The smile that played on his craggy lips was encouraging, Filon thought. "Tell me, commander, er…"

"Filon Dast, sir."

"Commander Dast…" The Patriarch said, "How did you deal with Tarrana?"

"I electrocuted her with the wattage of a lightning bolt." The now Commander Dast said proudly.

"Hmm, impressive…" The Patriarch replied, rubbing his chin. "And the state of the corpse?"

"Barely recognizable." Filon said proudly.

"Well, this should be interesting…" The Patriarch said.

"What do you mean, sir?" Before the Patriarch could answer him, Filon's omnitool flickered and the vid feed turned to static. "Sir? Damn it, the electric feedback must've fried my omnitool…" He murmured as he tapped the module strapped onto his wrist, trying to reboot his omnitool to no avail. "For the love of- Gah! Feral, lend me your omnitool!"

"Hold on, mine is acting up as well, sir." His human female lieutenant, Feral, said as she fiddled with her omnitool. "That's strange, it was working fine up until a second ago…"

Another salarian spoke up as he presented a flickering omnitool interface. "Now that you mention it, mine's not working anymore, too…"

At this, everyone started checking their omnitools, only to find that they were all displaying the same errors, flickering on and off or projecting nothing but static.

"Unbelievable. Looks like the lightning fried our omnitools…" Filon said, looking around as his men were all checking the modules around their wrists. "A small price to pay, I suppose. No worries men, we'll have the barracks stock us with some new ones. Let's get out of here." As he and his men turned to leave, tendrils of purple biotic energy slithered past them and coalesced around the doorway, forming a shining barrier of dark energy. "What the-?"

"It's blocking our way, sir!" Feral said as she inspected the doorway.

"Thank you for the astute observation, lieutenant. Now get out of my way." Filon said sarcastically as he raised the massive iron fist and swung a thunderous punch against the barrier. It crackled violently on impact but maintained it's form. "What the hell is going on here?" He whispered as he turned to face the darkness where the tendrils emerged from, search lights illuminating the way.

Just as he did so, their lights flickered and died, leaving only the light from the doorway. But even then, the barrier around the doorway slowly grew darker and more opaque. What precious light that could penetrate it was only a sinister purple glowing, barely enough to illuminate a few inches beyond the door.

Filon raised an eyebrow at what was going as the darkness enveloped them. "I don't understand…" He whispered to himself. He could just barely see his men in the dark as they started to huddle closer together around him. That was when they heard the creaking in the darkness, and his throat went dry.

His lieutenants perked up at the sound and lined up in formation around him, raising their weapons meaninglessly at the darkness. They were all huddled close together by the doorway, their exit barred by a mysterious barrier. "Boss?" Feral said tensely as she crept closer to him. The others also turned their heads towards Filon, looking for answers. As one however, they turned their heads back to the darkness as they heard something scraping against the metal floor. "Boss?" Feral repeated herself more urgently.

Before Filon could answer her, their omnitools all reactivated, opening up holo vids that only projected static. It was all garbled up at first, but they could make out what sounded like sinister laughter. Suddenly, something black reached down from the ceiling and wrapped around Feral's neck, pulling her up screaming and kicking into the darkness. The screaming quickly stopped as something wet and sticky rained down on the rest of the mercs. Even in the purple haze of the barrier, they all knew what it was: blood.

"Open fire!" Filon yelled as he stepped back closer to the door. His men raised their weapons and blasted away at the ceiling, the muzzle flare from the guns revealing something huge crawling across it. "Kill it! Kill it!"

One by one, guns clicked empty, and the mercs couldn't reload fast enough as the figure fell from the ceiling on top of a salarian and a human. A long, spindly arm that ended in shining talons was raised into the air, before swiping down on the unfortunate duo, slicing through armor and flesh with ease. Blood sprayed everywhere, and a purple glow started to emanate from the creature.

The mercs fumbled reloading as they could see it's twisted features shining menacingly in the darkness. Cold eyes leering at them, jagged teeth set in a cruel smile, and a form that could only be thought of in nightmares. It stood up, the monster's slender frame easily towering over the tallest merc present. Its teeth parted as its mouth stretched into a gaping maw, and from this maw came a blood curdling screech as the creature wailed at Filon and his men.

Just as they started opening fire again, biotic energy exploded from the monster, sending all of them flying against the wall or sprawled on the floor. The monster worked swiftly and methodically, dancing with grace despite it's form as razor sharp talons cleaved and hacked a bloody swathe through all of them.

Filon, in an uncharacteristic act of bravery, lunged towards the beast, iron fist crackling with lightning. It caught his arm mid swing and threw him across the room. The heavy armor of his suit protected Filon from the brunt of the damage as he slammed violently against the wall, but the grip of unconsciousness still took him as his men screamed.

Filon groaned as he came to, trying to shake away the cobwebs in his head. He almost didn't notice the monster walking up to him.

The glowing energy that surrounded it ignited into fire that danced over the monster's features. Rune-like patterns started to burn into it's hide, almost as if the flames were coming from within its body. It could have been the concussion, but Filon saw the monster slowly start to shrink. Long gangly limbs started to shorten and fill up with mass, the sound of bones grinding and snapping as the change came on violently. It's bloated torso pulsated as it squirmed and grew smaller and smaller, the mass reforming into more feminine features. The charred black leathery hide started to slough off, revealing vivid blue skin underneath. The ghoulish face started to warp and contort itself into something more beautiful. Gone was the monster and what was standing in front of him instead was a very beautiful, completely naked asari.

A snap of recognition managed to work it's way past his befuddle mind as Filon tried to register what he was seeing. "Tarrana?" He said as the asari kneeled in front of him, smiling warmly.

"Hello, dear Filon." A clawed hand plunged into Filon's chest, cutting through the heavy armor over it as if it was nothing, and pulled him up to be face to face with her. "You have done a very foolish thing." She said, as a mother would scold a child. With her other hand, she tore of his helmet, looking into his frightened eyes. "What is wrong, dear? Are you afraid?"

Filon growled as the iron fist crackled with lightning, punching her with it directly in the face. Tarrana's head exploded clean off of her shoulders. They fell back to the ground, the decapitated corpse still straddled over him with its hand still impaling his chest. "Stupid bitch…" Filon panted, "If I die, I'm taking you with me…"

He froze as he felt a soft hand caress his face, and looked to see purple fire blooming at the stump of Tarrana's neck. The fire blazed and grew but did not burn him, and Filon saw a skeletal silhouette form behind the flames. The silhouette became fuller, and fire dissipated to reveal a gruesome face looking down at him. Again, blue skin and pulsating flesh crept over the features and reformed into Tarrana's beautiful face, looking at Filon in the eyes with intensity.

"If that didn't work the first time, what made you think it would work now?" She smiled at him and rested her head on his chest straddled on top of him as a lover would. "Poor Filon, all out of options." She whispered seductively. "What do you do now?"

"Wha-What are you?" Filon could barely whisper as blood started to flood his lungs. Tarrana giggled as she raised her head and drew in close and licked his ear, sending chills down his spine.

"Hungry." She whispered sinisterly.

Filon screamed as she sunk her fangs into his face and ripped out a sizable chunk of flesh.

Tarrana watched him squirm and howl in pain as he struggled to throw her off of him to no avail. Her hands morphed into talons and she shredded through his armor as if it were paper, leaving Filon vulnerable before her. "I presume you have a few more moments before you bleed out…" She said as she inspected the hole in his chest. "Don't worry Filon, those last few moments shall be excruciatingly painful…"

She made good on her guarantee as bits and pieces of gore flew about as she messily fed on him, covering her in blood. As she went about tearing him piece by piece, the omnitool on Filon's now dismembered arm activated, opening up a holo vid of the Patriarch.

"It's about time." The Patriarch said gruffly, his arms crossed as he watched Tarrana go about her business. "I thought we had an understanding, Tarrana?"

"Oh Patriarch, you naughty boy." She giggled as she covered her blood soaked bare chest from him. "You must never peek on a lady as she does her business."

"Spare me the routine, Tarrana." Patriarch sneered. "You were told to destroy the Normandy. You know that we cannot risk letting Shepard or anything associated with him continue to exist for our purpose to succeed! Your foolishness will be the end of us!"

"Oh, really?" Tarrana mused, bringing a finger to her lips as she licked it clean. "Tell me then, why did you let Shepard go when you had the chance to kill him?"

"What? How did you…?"

"We were each blessed with our own unique gifts, yes?" Tarrana giggled, before her face contorted into a sneer. "Do not lecture me about foolishness if you are going to be a hypocrite, Patriarch." She spat out his name as if it were an insult.

"I have… had an honor debt towards Shepard." The Patriarch began, finding his footing once more. "I have repaid it by sparing him. He will not be so fortunate when next we meet."

"I should hope so." Tarrana responded airily, "Now be gone with you, I have to tidy up and get back to claiming my new ship."

"Tarrana!" Patriarch growled.

"Calm yourself, darling." Tarrana smiled. "They will all die, but the ship will be mine."

"This is not a negotiation!"

"I am fully aware." She smiled at him.

"Blast it! Do what you want, but it better not come back to bite us!" He growled.

"Again with the hypocrisy…" Tarrana giggled. "Oh Patriarch, do not worry. Even if I infuriate you, you know my loyalty is always with Gemini."

"I know, I know…" Patriarch conceded, calming down. "So, did you kill all of your lieutenants?"

"No, just most of the non-asari ones. I find that I can only truly dominate those with the same race as this body…" she mused. "I sense that my girls are still alive. Foolish Filon, he should've killed them before killing me."

"No matter, I don't care how you do it, but just get the job done, Tarrana." Patriarch said. "Once all this is settled, we can search for it in peace. In the name of the Father, Patriarch out."

"In the name of the Father." Tarrana replied, "In the name of the Father, indeed…"