The bridge exploded behind them, the harvester hot on their heels.
She sprinted across broken ground.
The difficult terrain ground vehicle raced along the established escape route.
Ducking and rolling out of the harvester's targeting path, she emptied the assault rifle on the massive target and rapidly reloaded a thermal clip. It continued to target her. She threw up a quick bubble shield, stumbling back several steps from direct impact.
"FUCK!" A striking pain shot up her arm to her shoulder.
She dropped the shield and ran again toward the retreating ground vehicle. She dove behind a pile of rubble, fine debris and dust showering her.
She coughed violently.
A banshee shrieked in the distance.
A husk hand appeared over the edge of her cover.
Bolting upright, Mycerra panted.
She placed a hand over her chest and scanned the tiny apartment. Dr. Parsi snored loud enough to wake the dead. She laid back down slowly and pressed her palm into the worn leather until the texture grounded her nerves. Faint gunshots disturbed the otherwise silent apartment. She reached for the pistol and visor, finding both within hand reach beneath the couch.
Return fire met the SMG gunfire. A shotgun added to the mix. She sarcastically 'conducted the orchestra' of bullets from her surprisingly comfortable position on the couch and matching stool.
The gunfire ceased five minutes later.
She threw her arm over her eyes and drifted off to sleep again.
She woke to eggs, filtered water, and dried snacks neatly packed into pouches that fit her reclaimed armor. Dr. Parsi packed his own into a satchel blatantly labeled with Aria's iconography. "Remember to eat something from the marketplace for lunch." He reminded her.
"Will do, Doc. Thought you said it'd clog my arteries?"
"It will but empty calories are better than no calories."
She wondered how much it hurt him to say that. "Go ahead, Doc. I'll eat the eggs and head on out to find more about my targets. Maybe take down a few nuisances in the process."
"I hope your day is peaceful." He said seriously.
She saluted him. "Here's to knowing it's not."
He breathed deeply, unlocked the door, and stepped out into the streets. Fresh bullet holes and grazes marked the beautification planters and disrupted digital billboards. He moved quickly through the streets to the local clinic. He passed the Blue Suns collecting their protection fees on his way into the clinic. An armed mech positioned at the entrance of the clinic.
Deepak Parsi gave the client list one look from the night before and shook his head. His day started in earnest the moment he called the first name on the morning list, a drell who claimed to not know why they were shot. He played along with the lies for his own sanity.
Mycerra's morning started the first the step outside the apartment. She ignored the bullet holes and grazes, grateful the irritating ad for Enkindling Lubrications no longer played on a loop after an ad for recruiting insomniacs for sleep medication testing and testimonies about the local Blue Suns being the 'best' choice for the area. She walked roughly five miles from sun up to sun down covering part of the station dedicated to listening and observing. She interacted with the locals on a limited basis and avoided the children entirely. She ate noodles from a shifty vendor par for the station.
She compiled her audio and video recordings on the couch to review them for clues she missed in person.
A knock at the door caught her attention.
Cautiously, she reached for the pistol and padded toward the door. "Hello?" She checked the door camera and saw a teal toned asari in lab coats and civvies.
"Hi! It's Dr. Amani Ysett. Aria sent me to help you." She half waved.
Mycerra checked her email, searching for the name Amani Ysett, Aria T'loak, Anto, and Balencia. "I have no communications that confirm that." She pressed the answer button.
"Aria doesn't send emails."
"I'm sorry. Until I receive official communications or confirmations, I can't meet with you." Mycerra replied. "Have a great day."
The knocking persisted.
Mycerra retreated to the couch and her research. She tuned out the knocking. Her omni tool pinged with an incoming call. She ignored it.
Dr. Parsi entered in the middle of her ignoring the call. "Laying low?"
"No. There's some asari claiming to work with Aria. I don't trust it."
"You mean Dr. Ysett?""
"I guess." She never looked up from the video, clocking faces and races. She noticed the locals watched her with vague interest. A batarian kid trailed her from the marketplace to the warehouses before slipping off into the unknown. "You know her?"
He unpacked his half-eaten dinner. "I confer with her to determine chemical formulas. She's well educated." He answered readily.
She perked up. "But that doesn't mean she's working for Aria."
"What's the harm?" He asked naively.
"I woke up to gang warfare this morning while you snored away. That's the harm. It only takes a moment to let my guard down and then poof." She put a finger gun to her head and pulled a pretend trigger. "I don't trust a single person on this station. Especially the kids."
He placed a data pad on the table. "Miss Colton, you should have faith."
"I have faith in people at Haven 1, not a shit hole station like this."
"For most of those people, they were born here." He criticized her. "To judge them for geographical coincidence beyond their control is cruel."
She shrugged. "Nature versus Nurture. This station taught them to be predators." She played footage of a kid no older than eight years old stealing a person's personal knife and stabbing him in the back of the thigh. "That's from yesterday. The victim's comrades put a bullet between victim's eyes and dumped his body instead of taking him to a clinic."
"We should try." Dr. Parsi pressed.
Her brow lifted. "Not without proof and I'm not running to Aria or dealing with Anto."
"And what if you're wrong?"
"Then Dr. Ysett will provide proof." She countered seriously. "You have Aria's protection. I don't."
He gave in. "As you wish."
She handwaved away his judgment. She captured stills of the kid's face and saved them. She captured stills of known gang members and saved those next. Her work occupied her until she passed out on the couch.
Wave after wave of husks rushed them. Armed with a crowbar and biotics, Mycerra tore through them utilizing biotic charge, nova, and stasis. The crowbar dented on the last husk of the wave and snagged in its arm. She abandoned the weapon and picked up the shotgun beneath a husk and inches from a dead Alliance soldier's fingertip.
She checked the remaining life of the thermal clip.
Half a clip left.
She heard the banshee before her eyes fixated on the approaching pregnant looking monstrosity. Despite her resolve, she backstepped. The absurdity of the clear night sky behind the Banshee blotted out by a gigantic reaper would have amused her were she not about to die.
Her finger curled around the trigger of the shotgun. She braced herself for the loud bang and recoil.
Dr. Parsi stood over her. His hand rested on her shoulder. "You alright?" He whispered.
"What time is it?" She mumbled sleepily.
"1 a.m."
She groaned. "If I'm still breathing and there isn't a banshee in the room, I'm fine."
"You want sleeping pills?"
She shook her head and wiped away the sweat. "Can't let our guard down too much. Go back to sleep, Doc."
"You want a blanket?"
"Blankets don't keep the reapers away, Doc." She mourned.
He nodded. "Drink some water before you go back to sleep."
She closed her eyes, eyelids hurting. Working off precious three to four hours of sleep each night drained her.
She felt a glass pressed into her hand a minute later.
"Drink."
She mindlessly obeyed and downed the glass.
She slipped deeper into the barren streets of her chosen city. She woke to her alarms blaring, a note and her lunch packed for her. A quick cold shower woke her up. She donned her dirty armor, clipped the pouches in place and loaded the pistol and shotgun.
She wandered around the residential wards watching the Blue Suns and Vorcha fight for territory. She sent out another SOS email to everyone on the list of emails she remembered by heart. She expected a lecture from Primarch Victus if she made it off the station alive. Taking a seat at the end of a sky car dock, she soaked up the detestable yellow, rusted view of the shabby station. She tossed trash and caught it in singularities. It wasn't littering if it already covered the streets.
"Hi. Colton, right?" A human biotic approached her.
She recognized Jasper Rhodes's voice from the comms. "Biotic camp."
"One and same." He confirmed. The man matched her age group. A fierce beard covered his chin. He shaved it into a manageable goatee. He pulled back his long hair into a ponytail and dressed in local civvies. "It's been about a week. How you holding up?"
"If you mean I made progress on earning my way off this station, I can affirm for you I have not." She answered grimly. "Yourself?"
He showed her his bandaged hand. "I work security at Afterlife. A year and I can leave."
"This is bullshit." She muttered.
"I can't tell you where Balencia is, but if you were to take a stroll through the Warehouse district over by Mikala Ward, there's a warehouse you might find interesting." He stroked his goatee.
"Shame I forgot my explosives at home." She said sarcastically.
He motioned to the view. "It's an acquired taste."
A sky car zoomed across their view, another close on its tail.
"Racers. They don't care about everyone else."
Mycerra leaned forward and followed the race until the cars lifted and dipped out of view again. "They know how to juice up a sky car though. Could come in handy."
His mind followed her trail of thoughts. "I'll try to pry the schematics from them."
She shook her head. "Don't get involved. I hear the racing scene around here is violent. Playing for slips has caused more than one death. And that's not including the interference of gangs wanting their cut of the gambling."
"Alright. I'll keep out of it." He promised.
She wanted to believe his good-natured reply. "You do what you want, Rhodes. I'm just saying." She shrugged and her shoulders sagged. "This place makes me want to eat a bullet if I think too long about it."
"I'm open to have some drinks later before shift starts."
"I think I can spare the time. You know anything about an Edann Larix, Isa'ala Gomen or Tappa Baronnus?" She asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know."
She inhaled and regretted it. The odor of metal, rotting flesh, and leaking fuel mingled together. She gagged. She looked down through the grate and spotted a half humanoid pile of flesh feasted on by varren several levels below. A warm vent pushed the odor upward.
"Let's hope he's not one of your targets." Rhodes joked.
She groaned.
She carefully climbed to her feet again. "Back to the streets again."
"Offer is always open. Email?" He asked.
She exchanged information with him and sent him on his way. Standing there dumbly a moment longer, she started off in a general direction and picked her way through the vendors. She noted each vendor, the type of people who frequented them, and how much their food cost. She recorded information, raw data that she hoped would help her in the future, and hoped she wasn't wasting time.
She spent her days walking Omega, recording audio and video en masse and sorted it out at the end of the evening. She sold audio recordings to Eclipse's leader Sayn Boddit confirming attempted coups of his position at lower levels of authority, netting her a tidy couple grand in credits. She retrieved and organized enough data into a database she sold to the clinics for another tidy fifteen grand in credits. With that money, she purchased herself weapon modifications and another outfit, bringing her grand total to three outfits, a modded shotgun, a modded pistol, and the intent to purchase a sniper rifle when she earned more income.
She hung out in alleys and watched the warehouse Rhodes made her aware of. She recorded Balencia with an asari female named Maryn. She followed Balencia to a mercenary nest in the middle of Omega's residences and discovered Maryn operated a slave ring.
Weeks turned into a month for her. She sent a mass email each day, losing a little hope each day she spent on Omega.
On day forty-nine on Omega, she stopped sending the emails and developed a new plan. Escape Omega by high jacking a ship or convincing the owner of said ship to remove all of them off Omega.
In the meantime, she watched the attempted slavers set up a strong plan step by step.
When they finally gave her the nail in the coffin she needed to, she acted.
"If It isn't my favorite asari stalker." Mycerra met Amani Ysett at The Varren Crater, a vendor who sold varren meat cooked in every way imaginable. The locals considered it a favorite haunt.
The asari smiled at her. "I want to help you and you don't trust me. I understand that, but you do need my help."
"And why is that?" She waited for her order.
Amani stood at her side. "What you're planning to do requires tools you don't have. You want to break into the nest and eliminate the threats. You need better tools than bullets."
Mycerra frowned. "I could be planning anything."
"Selling information will only keep you on the station and you want off it. Without Aria T'Loak sending anyone after you for failing to keep your word. You need tools."
"I don't even know where the targets are."
"Not yet. That's why you walk around, isn't it?" Amani leaned in. "To learn where they are."
She shook her head. "I'm learning my way around Omega. That way if I end up in a tight corner, I can work around it. Find another way out of it. Survive another day. When I directed Haven 1, part of my job was knowing the area. Taking care of my people. Ensuring they ate, slept, stayed warm. It was my job, Dr. Ysett, to take care of them. To give them hope and strength and – to never fail. To never falter. To never fall. Never be afraid. To be the weapon. The barrier. The answer. Now I'm on Omega. Mission hasn't changed. Surviving is the objective but the number I must provide for drops from 1,000 to 2."
"So, it's true that you're some kind of…nice person. I didn't think those people existed." Amani teased.
Mycerra shrugged. "You ever be treated like crap your whole life, told you were nothing, and then one day you had the ability to be better than everyone who put their boot on your neck?"
"No." she said.
"Well, I did. Then someone stupidly put me in power. And I stupidly chose one life in favor of 1,000 surviving. A plan to save me failed at the last second and here I am. I can't be nice on Omega, but I don't need to be an asshole to everyone around me."
"There's a reason they don't survive long on Omega. Word of advice." Amani whispered.
The batarian cook held out her fried varren. She accepted it.
"Also, always scan your food and drink. Never know if its poisoned." Amani whispered louder.
Mycerra looked at the batarian chef and shrugged. "He's going to poison my food? I tip him generously each time. Isn't that right, Hadar?" She leaned on the counter.
"Best customer." He said and slipped his right hand out of sight. "Should avoid the warehouse today."
She looked to Amani. "Looks like I have free time today. Want to help me develop those new tools? I need a nasty surprise for a group of equally nasty people." She faux whispered.
It amazed Mycerra how much stayed a secret while talking about it openly. Everyone operated in no man's land with little regard, therefore another person's ominous words didn't necessarily mean much. When everyone owned guns and armor, the odds usually evened out.
She left an extra fifty credits for Hadar.
He nodded in thanks.
"You're on good terms with the batarian. Don't you know what they're capable of?" Amani chastised her once they were out of earshot.
Mycerra blindly followed the chemist. She inadvertently admired her ass. "Hadar is an ex-slave. He escaped to Omega, had the control thingy removed from the back of his head. Met his wife, fathered a son. Lived on Omega for years."
"They talked to you?" Amani unlocked her lab door and welcomed Mycerra inside.
She scanned the tidy lab. "When you eat from the same vendor every day, you talk to the vendor. I didn't care that he was batarian. I cared that the food tasted good, was cheap, and had no poisons or other agents to be concerned about. I told him about Haven 1, he told me about places on Omega to avoid unless I was willing to kill people. Sure, he's batarian, but he'll only betray me if anything happens to his wife and son."
"Isn't that risky?"
"I wake up to gunshots around two to three a.m. every morning. I've had nonstop nightmares of banshees and marauders since I arrived. I exist on two to four hours of sleep each day. At some point, you must connect with the world around you or else you won't survive it. Hadar's varren reminds me of old times. Helps keep me sane."
She wandered around the small lab, scoping out the micromanaged shelves and the container labels. More lab equipment stored beneath the central island.
Amani's eyes followed her. She locked the lab door. "I may have lied about Aria sending me to help. Truth is I heard about the doctor and his virtuous deeds. Wanted to help him off the station before something bad happened to him. Words out you belong Aria. I thought I'd help."
"Thanks, but Aria's protection extends to him." She ate her varren strips slowly.
"I know. The whole station does." Amani placed her bag down. "You're planning something, and you need help. Tell me how to help."
Mycerra walked the full area of the dinky lab and stood face to face with Amani again. "I plan to kill the slaving ring before they target the batarian community. Hopefully, that'll buy me time or information. Either way, one less threat to worry about on this station. Besides, I owe Hadar a solid. He keeps giving me leads to avoid Balencia's traps."
"I know about her too. She's a bitch." Amani unpacked her bag. "Made no secret about her goals or affiliations."
"Aria's favorite?"
"The opposite. Aria's using you as a balance to her."
"And you know this how?" Mycerra asked and ate her fried varren, strip by strip.
Amani activated her data pad. "I work for Aria. I'm a chemist."
"I heard Aria's earned a Matriarch status. How much longer do you think she naturally has before old age catches up?" Mycerra asked casually.
"Thinking of running?"
"No." She lied. "I've dug up everything I could about Aria down to the time she arrived on Omega. Early days are murky except for the talks of how she nearly killed Patriarch and destroyed anyone who crossed her path. She's well aged, to put it politely."
Amani laughed.
Mycerra watched her. The asari chemist moved around the lab with purpose. She placed several items on the clean metal worktable. "I can stand here all day and watch you work"
"Why don't you tell me what you need to deal with your problem?"
"Unless you know where my targets are, I need new toys to manage groups long enough to lay down the lethal law and survive it." Mycerra laid out. "You in or out?"
The chemist smiled. "On one condition. You help make it"
Mycerra finished her fried varren and licked her fingers. "What are we waiting for?" She dropped the disposable container into a well-hidden garbage can.
"Wash your hands first. And do not touch the table until after." She warned.
Mycerra held up both hands in jest. "I'm washing them, I'm washing them. No need to take my head off." She smiled in good cheer.
"Don't mind the mess- "
Mycerra stepped into an immaculate bathroom. She noticed no mess, small or otherwise. "I think your standards of clean and my standards of clean are different." She grabbed the white bar of soap.
"Use the red bar. The white is for chemicals."
"Usually, the color blue or green is used for soap." She said loud enough to be heard in the other room. "Not red."
"I prefer red." The woman appeared at the door. "The white bar is a special formula. Gentle enough to not kill your skin. Use it enough in a brief period of time and you'll need serious skin therapy."
Mycerra rinsed her hands. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Dry your hands. We're about to make you tear gas." Amani promised. "It doesn't affect masked individuals but it's all you should need to get the element of surprise. The rest you're capable of, right?"
Mycerra nodded.
She followed Amani back into the lab and hopefully an easier payday and information on her targets.
Banshee screeching deafened her.
Instinct drove her every decision, every movement.
Charge. Repeatedly bash with nearest rebar until fluids cover her. Swing wide. Make contact. Keep swinging. Gunfire turned into ambient noise.
Don't count the bodies.
The gun truck raced along the broken and littered road swerving like a drunk at the wheel.
Don't count the bodies.
Don't blink. Breathe and swing at the husks climbing the side of the truck.
Her ears rung. People shouted her name. Gunfire turned into a bad choice of music.
Banshee appeared near the truck.
She jumped off the back and slammed her fist into the ground. The nova bubble knocked back the husks flanking the Banshee. Banshee turned to her. It screeched.
Black eyes.
She grabbed the shotgun at the small of her back. She aimed it at the Banshee's head and pulled the trigger. The biotic shielding absorbed the impact. She fired again. Reloaded.
Black eyes.
A hand rested on her shoulders. "You fell asleep. I called your doctor."
Mycerra rolled over onto her side and stared groggily at table legs and lower shelving. Amani watched her without assisting.
"You toss and turn all the time or when you fall asleep in a strange lab?" Amani wore different clothes and smelled clean.
She popped up slowly, muscles sore. "Did we make enough?"
"You mean do I have enough concentrated Oleoresin Capsicum? Yes." She produced twelve glass grenades. "You should buy yourself a proper helmet. Double check the seals. Find it second hand, you're better off replacing the seals altogether."
"It's going to inconvenience them, yes?" Mycerra stressed.
"Your concern for their well being is amusing." Amani remarked curiously. "I noticed you're healthier than you've arrived. Omega is superior to your home planet."
Mycerra groaned and lay on her back. She stared up at the ceiling vent. "I'm going to die today."
"If you start the day off in a negative manner, you're doomed to end it that way." Amani crossed her arms and leaned over.
"Your lab floor is not the definition of comfortable."
"It wasn't meant to be. Want water?" Amani smiled.
Mycerra closed her eyes. "Give me a minute. We'll soon see if I live to see tomorrow." She breathed deeply.
The day started as any other, except for the cold shower and packed rations. She chatted with Amani about making more tear gas bombs before buying a proper helmet to adapt to the new toys. She checked the seals and bought new seals from another merchant in the marketplace. Installing the seals and testing it at the market stand, she thanked the vendor and walked with purpose.
"I wouldn't go that way." A salarian stood in her way. "I can show you another way."
"Is that so?" Her hand stayed close to her pistol.
The salarian nodded. "My brother said you'd help us if we needed it." His eyes fixated on her knowingly.
She sighed. "I'm not a miracle worker." She swore Omega wanted to kill her and use her at the same time. If Omega made a choice, her life improved instantly.
"No. But you have a gun and a conscience."
She smiled. "How old are you?"
"Eleven years old. Old enough to know what competent looks like." He replied. "You know how to make a Red Sand dealer disappear?"
"If they're actually dealing red sand." She spoke. "That's the stuff you snort, right? Addictive?"
He nodded. "It killed my uncle."
"Was your uncle salarian or…?" She gestured loosely.
"Does it matter?" He deadpanned.
"You want me to kill a Red Sand dealer? Because your uncle overdosed?" She guessed.
He pointed down another road. "I know a short cut."
"I don't even know your name."
"I can find you if you survive." The salarian said smartly.
She rested her hand on her pistol. "I have issues with Omega as it stands. I want you name. Otherwise, I'm not taking another step."
The salarian stepped closer. "You have three hours until the mass of the forces return. You want in there now to set traps if you want to ambush them."
Her mind raced. "How many exactly?"
"Tonight's special. Meeting of the minds. Take the chance while you have it."
She closed the space between them. "Who?"
He cleared his throat. "Walk with me." He motioned for her to follow.
She followed despite misgivings. "Who's meeting up? I'm only after the slavers."
"Need to aim higher, human. Bigger meeting there tonight. Underbosses trying to rise and usurp. Aria is too busy regaining control of everything to notice. Talons can't see everywhere. Eclipse, Blood Pack, Blue Suns, they only care about each other."
"Still haven't told me who you are." Her eyes focused on his back, but her ears tuned in to the ambient noise. "Or who you're connected to."
He turned quickly and pointed a pistol at her. "If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you by now. You're reckless. You don't notice anything unless you step on it. You're too nice for Omega. You really shouldn't talk too much around vendors. Everyone has a price here. Including me."
She held out her hands at her sides. "I have no issue dealing with a red sand dealer."
He lowered the pistol. "I know that. Rumor has the one who used you to arrive here is a similar pain herself."
"I thought this was time sensitive."
"It is. I'll help you. I want you off Aria's books and on ours."
"Who is 'ours'?" She asked.
The salarian whistled.
Four teenagers stepped out of the nooks and crannies.
Her heartbeat sped up. "Well, if your books aren't binding me to Omega when the allies show up, I don't care about the books. So, who are all of you?" She gestured broadly to the group closing in on her from all corners.
She clocked the salarian at her six, the batarian at her nine and the two asari at her three and eleven. Aside from the salarians, everyone appeared youthful.
"We're orphans." The dark blue toned asari said. "We look out for each other."
"Teenaged orphans." She corrected. "There are a lot of orphans in this world after the reapers. In either case, I don't want to hurt any of you, and I have a job to do, so…"
"We'll help you trap the place, set it up, and when the meeting takes place, you can destroy the underbosses. Prove you accomplished the task to Aria, and then…then we can clean the streets up enough so we can live here in a little more peace. Until your help arrives." The appointed asari leader said.
She put her arms out. "Then let's go already." She hissed. "Tick tock."
"We have our own traps to install. Tallyn is good with traps." He pointed to the batarian. "Let's move out. If we're in and out, we can shock them and escape without casualties."
Her heart sunk. "I – I don't like involving children- "
"No one's a child on Omega, human."
"If we're working together, it's Colton." She stopped the bait that led her into this 'ambush.' "And yes, to me you are children. Children shouldn't be waging war."
"On Omega, no one has a choice." Tallyn said. "Craid told me you help them out. Extra credits on the side. You picked a side already."
Her eyes fixed on him. "How big is the – no, no. Let's move."
Reapers help her if anyone of them died on her watch.