Chapter 23 – I'm Sorry

March 8th, 2211. The Citadel, Citadel Tower – Atrium

Post-meeting with the Citadel Council

We all exited the private council chambers and returned to the atrium. Tension arced like lightning between the four of us, but especially between Cade and Elektra. I could sense my friend chomping at the bit to start tearing into her, and judging by the furtive glances Percival was giving him so could Percival. In these situations it was best not to let Cade get in the first word.

We stopped outside the elevator and I turned to Elektra.

"So how did you pull this one off?" I asked.

Elektra crossed her arms against her chest and shrugged. "Lanllavan and Tevos both owe me one for the job I pulled on Illium and I convinced them that our past history makes me the best Spectre for the position. And honestly? The other night it sounded like you really needed help. "

I ruefully shook my head at myself. I was never going to drink again.

I wasn't an expert on turian psychology but I was an expert on Cade, and as such I was amazed that Cade had made it this long without saying anything. Unfortunately Elektra had touched upon the one thing that always triggered Cade's anger, and in that instant my friend's inhibitions evaporated and he lashed out.

"I'm not buying the 'friend' act one bit, harpy," Cade snarled. "Since when have you ever given a shit about him?"

Elektra uncrossed her arms and angrily marched towards Cade, murder in her eyes. "What's the matter, Kitiarian, scared I'll steal your boyfriend?"

Cade didn't back down, instead he extended his talons and moved to meet her halfway, mandibles pulled apart in the turian equivalent of a snarl.

"More like I'm scared you'll slide another knife into his—,"

I wouldn't put it past them to immediately get into a physical fight in a crowded area, it had happened twice before. Percival and I exchanged a glance and immediately slid into action. I grabbed Elektra while Percival moved in front of the irate turian. Cade spat curses at Elektra over Percival's shoulder while Elektra continued stare murderously at my friend, both strained to push past us and get at each other.

Several dignitaries and their assistants who were currently waiting in the atrium had begun to take notice of their fight.

"Stop! Stop this!" ordered Percival. The big man shoved Cade, sending the smaller Spectre flying back on his ass before rounding on Elektra and starring her down until she'd calmed a bit. I remained silent but otherwise maintained my grip on our new fourth party member.

Percival then walked over to Cade and held out a hand, allowing Cade to grab it and pull himself up. Then Percival grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and man-handled him so that they were both standing beside Elektra and I. The Spectre and former N7 wrapped a beefy arm around both Elektra and Cade and pulled them close to shield us from the scrutiny of our now-curious audience. I took the hint and moved in to close up our little circle, crossing my arms.

"Maybe we weren't at the same briefing, because I could have sworn the four of us were just ordered to work together to stop this omega-level threat," Percival grunted.

Elektra let out a whistling breath between tightly clenched teeth while Cade splayed his mandibles out even wider. I continued to stay silent and let my friend take the lead, merely nodding along at Percival's words.

The big man looked both of them squarely in the eyes. "An omega-level threat—these creatures appearing, spreading, and killing on dozens of different planets. That's what we've been tasked to stop."

Elektra began to open her mouth with the intention of saying something but a vicious look from Percival halted her dead in her tracks.

"I want you both to tell me whether or not either of you believe that you two fighting will in any way, shape, or form help us save the billions of lives that depend on us, because if you do then I will happily stand aside and let you both tear each other apart," Percival continued. You tell 'em, Percival.

"But if, like Cloud and I, you believe that we are stronger working together than apart, then I'm begging you, stop this childish shit, we're Spectres."

Percival and I watched as our two fellow Spectres slowly took Percival's words to heart, cooling the both of them down. My friend was right, we were indeed stronger together than apart. I didn't exactly like Elektra, no more than Cade did, but the stakes were too high for me to let my personal feelings work against what was best for the mission.

People were depending on us, and yet here were two of the galaxies most talented individuals acting like a pair of children. We couldn't afford to fight amongst ourselves, not when the whole galaxy stood on the precipice of destruction and chaos.

Elektra was the first to break. She looked down abashedly before looking Percival in the eye and nodding.

"We're stronger together," she admitted.

Cade narrowed his eyes at her statement but the apologetic look that she gave him in turn subdued enough of the raging fire within the turian Spectre that he too could see the wisdom of Percival's words.

"We're stronger together," Cade relented.

Cade held out a taloned hand that Elektra took immediately. They would never like each other, would never be friends, but they would work together as we did our best to stop this galactic Armageddon that the saboteurs had such a hard-on for bringing about.

Percival let out a satisfied nod and removed his arms from both Elektra and Cade. "Good. We need to work together more than ever. I'm not asking you to become best friends, but I am asking you to become teammates, to have each other's backs in combat, and get inside each other's heads and work with each other's strengths."

"That's exactly how you and I became best friends!" Cade complained.

"Best friends," Elektra air-quoted with a wry smile.

Cade was about to round on her again but Percival placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Cade, relax. Besides, if there is anyone you should blame for Elektra joining the mission, you should probably blame Cloud. The boy can't hold his alcohol."

And so Cade rounded on me instead.

March 8th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium

Currently outside of the Van Holt Apartments

I parked my skycar down on the steel-gray landing pad and hopped out. Before me towered a pair of nice, quaint-looking apartment complexes. They looked clean and well-maintained, lacking some of the more pretentious architectural features that many apartments in the Presidium were afflicted with.

There was just one more name on the list. The first time the name had come up I had deliberately skipped it, telling myself how understandable it was that I wasn't ready for it, and to give myself a bit more time before tackling it. I had moved on to the next name and told myself that once that name was done, I'd go back. Once I felt sufficiently prepared I'd make things right.

But after that next name I didn't feel any more prepared that I had been prior. And so I moved onto the next name, and the next, and each time I'd tell myself that after this one, I'd be ready.

Eventually I ran out of names, and I was no more ready than I had been the first time the name had come up on my list.

I decided that this one just one of those things that a person could never be truly prepared for. I had encountered such things in the past, and long ago I learned that the best way to deal with it was to just do it, even if you didn't feel prepared at all. It had been a hard lesson to learn, but one that I had taken to heart.

I sighed and stepped inside the building. I walked past a group of men seated in the lobby who gave me dark looks and made my way over to the concierge desk to sign myself in.

I decided to forego the elevator, opting for the stairs instead. That way I'd have some time to think about what I'd say before I actually had to say it.

But before I'd even formulated a single sentence, I was already on the twenty-fifth floor. I was a bit taken back at how useless my tactic had been. Twelve words, twelve words that barely constituted a sentence. Shit.

I sighed again, more heavily this time, before opening the stairwell door and making my way into the hall. I moved down it until I reached Apartment 25-G. I didn't even feel as if I was myself. I felt as if some kind of entity had taken control of my body, forcing me through a series of actions while I watched helplessly from above.

My hand hovered inches away from the doorbell. My heart caught in my chest and that sense of unpreparedness came rushing to the forefront in force, threatening to overwhelm my tenuous desire to cross this name off my list despite of how unready I felt.

But I knew what to do. This wasn't any different from the same hard decisions that I'd made before.

I refused to give my feelings the second-chance that it needed to dissuade my mind and pressed on the doorbell. I could hear a slight chime from within, followed by a series of rapid footsteps and a young, boyish voice calling for his grandmother.

The door swung open, revealing a gray-haired, kindly-looking woman in her early sixties. Her hair used to be blonde from the looks of it and she had the exact same eyes as her daughter. It took all my self-control not to run.

"Hello Mrs. Connor…" I began. "My name is Cloud and I'm a Spectre Operative…"

I trailed off. That was all I had, twelve words.

"… from the Office of Special Reconnaissance and Tactics…" I trailed off quietly. Eight more words, bringing my total to about twenty.

Mrs. Connor looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue, but I merely stood there with my mouth open and my eyes glued to the floor.

The footsteps came back and a small boy of about six years of age with a mop of blonde hair and a big smile peeked out from behind Mrs. Connor.

"Grandma, who's that?" asked John.

"I don't know sweetie, is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Cloud?"

I didn't know what else to say. Instead I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a blood-stained, slightly-crumpled photo and held it out for her to see.

Mrs. Connor took it and looked at it. After about a second her hands began to tremble and I could see tears well up in her eyes. She pressed a shaking hand against her mouth and brought the photo up to her chest.

John cocked his eyebrows and looked up at his guardian. "Grandma, is everything okay?"

Mrs. Connor—Tanya—if the records were correct, quickly brushed a few tears away from her eyes before smiling down at the young boy.

"Everything's fine. Why don't you go play in you room for a bit while I talk with the young man?"

John nodded and smiled, shooting me one last glance before turning around and dashing back to his room. God, he looked just like her.

I waited silently and patiently in the doorway as Tanya took a few more moments to collect herself.

"Do you… do you want to come in?" she asked.

I nodded. She gestured for me to come inside so I slipped past her, taking off my boots.

The apartment was nice and cozy, with the kitchen unit affixed to the living room. I could see four doors, all of them open. Three of them led to bedrooms while the fourth revealed a home office. I could see John playing with a few figurines inside one of them.

One of the walls were completely dominated by a glass window while another was covered with shelves that held a myriad of holo-stills, books, and several doctorates that were placed in strong metal frames. I had spoken with the landlord a few hours ago. The rent was something I could cover for the Connors in the foreseeable future.

I walked over to the shelves and looked at them. Both Sarah and Paul's doctorates were promptly displayed, as well as a number of holo-stills that captured their graduations.

Several archaic paper photos were framed as well. I gently picked one up to study it. It was a picture of Paul, Sarah, and John at what looked to be John's birthday party. Several children were either held in their parents arms or standing around the young child as he loomed over a massive birthday cake. I hope that they'd had a dextro-friendly version, because from the looks of it the boy had made several turian and quarian friends.

Tanya moved to the kitchen and rummaged around a cabinet. "Would you like something to drink, Mr. Cloud?"

"Coffee, black please, and Cloud is fine, or 'operative'," I replied. Operative? What the hell man.

I gently set the picture down and moved to take a seat.

Tanya moved over and handed me a hot, steaming cup that I accepted gratefully. I inhaled the familiar aroma as she moved to sit on the couch opposite me.

We both sat in silence for a moment, Sarah's mother staring at the photo I had returned to her while I sipped tentatively at my coffee. John could still be heard in the other room, playing with his figurines. From the sound of it, Spectre John Starfighter was about to kick evil slaver Bad Ben's ass.

"So, you're a Spectre?" Tanya began.

I activated my omni-tool and pulled up my Spectre identification badge. Tanya put on her reading glasses as I held it out for her to see. She squinted at it for a good while as I waited patiently for her to finish.

"Yes ma'am, I'm with the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. If you want, I can patch you into my commanding officers," I offered awkwardly.

Technically that would require me to call the Council. The moment I realized the hassle that would be I internally face-palmed.

Luckily she didn't feel the need to call me out on my bluff. Tanya simply smiled sadly and shook her head. "There's no need dear. So, did you know my Sarah?"

I hesitated. I set the half-drained coffee mug down and crossed my arms over my chest to buy myself some time. She was looking expectantly at me the same way that the next of kin of each and every person on my list had done before her. It didn't really get any easier.

My trepidation must have been more palpable than I could hide, or maybe she was just so desperate for answers that she didn't care how she might have looked in the eyes of a complete stranger. Tanya wringed her hands together and bit on her lower lip as she waited while I struggled to put together the words that she'd need for some sort of closure.

"Please… They didn't tell me anything other than the fact that she's gone… They told me that I wasn't even allowed to talk about it. I haven't even told John yet," she pleaded tearfully.

I glanced back to where John was still happily playing with his action figures. His mother had been dead for six weeks and he still didn't have a clue.

The Council had deigned to inform the immediate family members of the victims aboard the Hippocrates of the loss of their loved ones, then swore them to secrecy in the interests of galactic safety. So far the lid had been kept sealed, but I'd heard through the grapevine that families were starting to feel unsatisfied with being kept in the dark.

They wanted to know how their loved ones had died.

I sighed heavily and looked up at Tanya. "I knew your daughter, Mrs. Connor."

It wasn't much. I'd learned after the first few names to let the bereaved dictate the pace with which I provided them the information. They'd start off with a tiny, opening question and I'd offer small, simple answers. That way they could control the pace that they received the information and they could decide exactly how much more they wanted to know.

Tanya nodded and smiled weakly. I waited patiently.

"I got a call from a man a while back," she began hesitantly. "He told me that both Paul and Sarah had passed in an accident and then told me that I had to keep it to myself and that they couldn't tell me how they died. They said that it was classified."

I nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry they couldn't tell you more. Trust me, if we could tell you exactly what happened we would, but there are circumstances that prevent us from doing so right now and I deeply apologize for them."

This sentiment worked on maybe half of the bereaved that I'd forced myself to encounter. The other half had been either too angry or too in shock to listen to the shallow condolences of my pre-prepared reply. I wanted to apologize for my response, wanted to tell them everything that happened. I kicked myself for being so damn bad at this.

"I understand, Sarah wasn't allowed to tell me much about her work either," Tanya reassured me. "But please, my husband and I have spent the last six weeks imagining the worst. She was our little girl, please, is there anything you can tell me?"

She began to cry. Really cry. I wanted to get up from my seat, sit down, gently place my arm around the grieving individual and pull them into my chest just like Percival said I should do but all I could do was sit there.

I struggled to come up with the words that she needed to hear. I didn't know what to do. Like every single name before hers I floundered and drowned haplessly as the loved ones of the lost either cried or cursed my name. Some wanted to know if their loved ones had suffered while others wanted to know if they had died for a good cause. None were ever prepared for the answer.

I remembered Sarah's last moments, how she had stood defiantly in the path of the creature that had once been Paul Messner. Love had made her stop, had made her put down her gun to try and reach her husband through different means.

Love had made her take a chance and love had exacted a heavy price. Love had taken a daughter from this woman, a girl that she had raised and loved and cherished.

My next words came out like ground glass, cutting my throat, especially when I had to say her name. "Your daughter, Sarah, she died trying to save her husband…"

At the mention of her daughter's name, Tanya's crying began to recede as she struggled to pull it back so she could hear me better. Tear tracks dotted her cheeks and her blouse was damp but otherwise her eyes were locked into mine, as if she could somehow see her daughter in them one last time if she looked hard enough. I forced myself to maintain her gaze.

Her husband's claws had torn through her chest and throat. She had fallen, struggling to catch a breath that would never come, but I couldn't tell her that.

"She died surrounded by people that cared about her…"

That I could tell her. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. Time had stood completely still as I had watched those claws go scything towards her. I remember being frozen in place, unable to move. I remembered running towards her as she began to fall, then holding onto her hand as she passed away.

Tanya held onto every word as if she were dying of thirst and my words were like precious drops of water. She had fallen silent now, wordlessly encouraging me to go on. I didn't know if I could, I was astounded I had made it this far to be honest. This was by far the hardest name to cross off my list.

I cleared my throat and continued. "Before she died, she told me to take care of her son. I'll be honest with you, Mrs. Connor. I didn't know your daughter for long, but she was one of the bravest individuals I'd ever met. I cared for her, deeply, and her passing has made the galaxy a darker place. I promised her I'd take care of John and I intend to honor her last request."

That I could also tell her. She had been brave and I fully intended to keep my promise.

She went silent for a while as she digested my words, but eventually a small, sad smile slowly crept onto Tanya Connor's face. "You're a good man. Sarah couldn't tell me much about her work but one thing I do know is that she was an exceptional judge of character. If she asked you to take care of Johnny then I trust her."

I swallowed and nodded my thanks. "As I said, I fully intend to keep my promise. Your daughter died trying to protect those shed care about and died trying to save her husband, I wish I could tell you more, but I really can't."

I wish I could tell her how she'd stood heroically beside me as we fought hordes of nightmarish creatures aboard the Hippocrates, or how she'd swallowed her fear to follow me unflinchingly as I struggled to retrieve the Prometheus data. But I couldn't tell her any of that.

I wish I could tell her how I'd been given a choice between her life and the Prometheus data and how I'd chosen the data. But I couldn't tell her any of that either.

Tanya stood up, hastily brushing away the tears that had formed in her eyes. "Thank you for telling me this… I can tell from your face that this hurts you as much as it hurts me. I'm just glad my little girl had someone like you caring for her."

I stood up as well and clasped my hands behind my back. "Sarah was my friend."

Tanya looked over my shoulder and suddenly brought her hand to her mouth. I whirled around, one hand on my knife, expecting a fight.

John stood in the doorway to his room, an action figure modelled after the fictional Spectre holo-vid character, John Starfighter, clenched in his hands.

"Johnny—," Tanya began.

John dashed into his room and slammed the door shut. Inside I could hear the sound of something being thrown against the wall. Tanya began to move towards his door but I held out my hand, indicating that I had this. She nodded and sat back down on the couch.

I walked over and tapped my omni-tool over the door's emergency sensors. They were coded so that emergency service personnel could enter even if it was locked. My Spectre Authority gave me the same access. It wasn't something that was designed to be abused like this, but if you thought I was bad with grieving adults, just wait until you saw me with children.

Some promises were harder to keep than others.

March 8th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium – Van Holt Apartments

Currently within the Connor Residence

The interior of the room was dark, John had turned off the lights as well.

The bedroom was small. There were no closets to speak off, just a few dressers, a small desk with a couple of drawings on them, and a tiny bed. There was only one place he could be then.

John Starfighter lay on the ground beside his desk, a small indent on the wall above him the only clue as to his trajectory.

I walked over to the doll and picked it up. He was clad in bulky, over-exaggerated N7 armor and sported a lame crew-cut and a mean, meaty scowl. On the desk I could see his arch nemesis, Bad Ben and John Starfighter's sidekick, the turian Spectre known as Quincy Silver-eye, posed in a dramatic fight sequence.

I'd seen a few episodes of that particular cartoon series. It was alright, Cade liked it, said it reminded him of us. I disagreed, there was no way in hell I'd ever have a crew cut.

The drawings on his tiny desk were all of pictures of John, Sarah, and Paul. There was a drawing of them going to one of the parks in the Presidium that I recognized by its crooked swing, and another drawing of them having a picnic, and another of them on a couch, watching holo-television together. In each and every single one all three of them were smiling.

I averted my eyes and looked away, the Spectre action figure still clutched in my hand.

I slowly made my way over to the small bed, action figurine in hand, and sat down on the ground with my back against it. I could hear small, quiet sobs coming from beneath it that were quickly smothered into sniffles as I sat down.

I played with the small action figure. The paint on the armor was worn down and heavily smudged, indicating that the figure was likely used very, very frequently. This particular model had only been released a year ago.

I moved the figures arms around, trying to use it to put myself in John's shoes. What did he need to hear? What had I needed to hear, all those years ago?

How do you tell a six-year old boy that his parents weren't coming back? He already knew his mother and father were both dead. How did I tell him that everything was going to be okay? That'd he'd eventually learn to move on with his life, that time would heal his wounds and that this tragedy wouldn't scar him for the rest of his days?

Eventually I gave up and rested my hands and the action figure on my lap. I stared at John Starfighter as I tried to think of what to say. John wasn't an adult like all the other people I'd talked to. He was just a kid. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't good at this.

Biotic combat, snap-shooting, infiltration, taking lives, that was what I was good at.

"John…," I began. "Your mother, Sarah, before she left she asked me to look after you…"

I swallowed and struggled to come up with what to say next.

"You might not believe me, but I know what you're going through. I lost both of my parents as well when I was young, younger than you are now."

I could hear a thousand versions of me inside my head screaming at myself to stop talking, to shut up, but I could hear one person inside me encouraging me to go on. It was enough to get me to continue.

"It's hard, there's going to be days where you won't think about them at all, and then there's going to be days when they're all you think about, and when that happens the pain will hurt so bad that you won't think that you can bear another second of it."

I looked back and forth around the room, trying to find something to focus on so that I could keep all the emotions at bay. Memories welled up in my own mind that threatened to break down the walls that I had imprisoned them behind but I viciously beat them back. This was about John, about helping him through his loss. This wasn't about me.

Eventually I found the strength to continue talking. I knew I couldn't end it on a note like that. He was only six years old. He needed hope.

"The pain will be hard to endure, but you're going to find the strength to make it through it. You're stronger than you know. You're going to live a full, good life, just like your parents intended. I promise," I finished quietly.

And so I sat there with my back against his bed for what felt like hours, lost in my own thoughts, starring at this little plastic action figure held lightly in my hands.

The sound of rustling behind me snapped me out of my trance. John crawled out from beneath his bed, wiped a snotty nose on his blankets, and sat down beside me.

"Are you a Spectre?" the little boy asked.

I looked down at him and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

John gently reached a tiny hand out and pulled John Starfighter from my hand. He grabbed him and held him tightly to his chest.

"I want to be a Spectre when I grow up," John said.

I didn't know how to respond to that. Instead I raised a hand and gently ruffled his hair. It was blonde and soft, just like Sarah's had been.

"I think you'd make a great Spectre," I told him.

John nodded his tiny little head and looked up at me with big, innocent blue eyes. Her eyes.

"Because Spectres save people."

I stopped and pulled my hand back. Pain lanced through my chest, it hurt like nothing I'd ever had to endure before.

"Yes, because Spectres save people."

The small boy wiped away the last of his tears and nodded. "Did you try to save my mom?"

I brought the back of my hand quickly across my face and nodded back at John. "I did," I told him.

We both sat in silence for a while, our backs against his tiny bed.

March 8th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium – Van Holt Apartments

Currently outside in the skycar parking lot

By the time I left the Presidium was entering its night cycle.

I crossed one last name off my list and put it in the back pocket of my jeans, beside a picture that Tanya had insisted that I keep.

The shrink had told me that finishing the list would bring me some sort of closure, that it would ease my supposedly guilty conscience in some way and allow me to come to terms with what I had felt I'd been responsible for letting happen aboard the Hippocrates.

Truth be told, I didn't feel any different. If anything I felt a bit worse, like I'd been forced to do something I didn't want to do. I could only hope that this was just one of those things that had to hurt hard before it got better.

I stepped into the parking lot and let out a sigh of relief as the cool air of the night cycle bit into my face. It was nice and refreshing.

The parking lot was empty at this time except for the rows upon rows of skycars already parked for the night. I was in the middle of fumbling for my key fob when I heard a series of footsteps begin behind me. At least four pairs, I guessed.

I turned around to see the group of men who had been loitering in the lobby earlier move towards me with scowls on their faces. Six individuals with obvious hostile intent, all human males between the ages in their early mid-twenties to mid-thirties, no weapons in hand but three of them were wearing jackets that could easily conceal a blade or a small pistol.

The group moved towards me in a rough circle, prompting me to begin to take a few wary, cautious steps backwards. I didn't stop until my back lightly hit a parked skycar. Putting your back against a wall and making yourself appear scared could, could, work to your advantage when paired with the proper training and a healthy dose of luck.

A tall man with brown hair stepped forward. He was big, bigger than I was but slightly smaller than Percival. He was flanked by two smaller males – one of them about 5'10 while the bigger one was roughly my height. I'll call them Richard, Tan and Lanky respectively.

The other three were not as big as the three who were approaching me now, they merely scowled and tried to look intimidating as possible as they formed a rough semi-circle about six behind the three who were closing in on me. From left to right they were Blue, Beard, and Crew Cut. The three began to whisper quietly among themselves in between giving me dirty looks.

I took a deep breath. None of them had the slightest hint of ozone on them, all of them instead smelled like cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol. Maybe not cheap alcohol, I really wouldn't know. Chances are none of them were biotics then. Biotic Amps and the mass effect fields they helped generate often had a distinct ozone, electrical smell that sometimes clung to an individual, marking them as biotic users.

Richard pulled up an extra step until he was about a foot away from me and looked down, a mocking grin on his face. His hands went behind his back as if to imply he had a gun held in his waistband.

"Do you know who I—,"

My right fist shot up into his throat before he could finish his sentence, then into the bridge of his nose before he could even wheeze. I followed it up with a short step towards him and a vicious left elbow that impacted hard on his right cheek, snapping his head to the side.

As Richard struggled to draw breath I placed both my hands on his shoulders and used him as an anchor to let off a powerful kick right into the side of Tan's face. The man went down like a sack of potatoes with barely a whimper.

I quickly twisted Richard around so that he was facing Lanky and gave the back of his waistband a quick pat-down. No gun, what a fucking tosser.

I shoved him right into Lanky, knocking him and Richard right into the way of Crew Cut and Beard before whirling to confront a shocked Blue.

The smaller man quivered indecisively in place as I took two steps towards him. He brought his hands up high to protect his face, expecting an assault similar to the one I gave Richard. Instead I jumped, pulled my feet tight up to my chest, then lashed out with a flat, double-footed kick that caught him square in the chest and sent him flying nearly three meters onto his ass.

Richard was still wheezing on the ground but Lanky, Crew-cut, and Beard had all recovered from the surprise of my attack and were now simultaneously moving towards me.

Lanky reached me first, maybe three seconds ahead of his friends. That was enough time for me to slip beneath his first punch, grab his extended arm and break it over my shoulder. He went down onto his knees with a scream that halted both Beard and Crew-cut in their tracks.

Crew Cut was the first to recover. After witnessing his friend's attempt to strike me he instead chose to dive for my midriff.

I timed it perfectly and brought my knee up directly beneath his chin mid-dive, snapping his neck up. I could feel his limp body tumble into me. I grabbed him and quickly checked for a pulse before throwing him bodily onto Lanky, who was still screaming on the ground. He was alive.

I felt a figure try to put me in a choke-hold from behind – likely Blue. Beard moved forward to help but I easily kicked him back.

Unfortunately for Blue he was about half a foot shorter than me and not nearly as fit. If he had been taller his maneuver might have had more effect, but as it stood I was easily able to use my core strength to prevent him from using his own body and the lower center of gravity it provided as leverage to tighten his hold. I ripped myself out of his grasp and threw him over my shoulder.

He fell onto the ground in front of me with an exhale of air, stunned. I raised my foot and brought it down hard on his face, breaking his nose. His head lolled to the side and he stopped moving.

Lanky was still screaming about a foot away so I kicked him in the side of the head too, hard. He fell to the ground to lie beside an unconscious Crew-cut. That fucking shut him up.

Beard stood on the periphery of the fight and looked down at his unconscious friends. That man was already beaten.

It had been nearly twelve seconds since I'd initiated the fight. Since then Richard had finally stopped wheezing and had managed to pull himself unsteadily onto his feet.

I closed the distance between us in half a second and launched half a dozen palm strikes into his chest and lungs before finishing with an uppercut to his chin that knocked him back onto his back, where he lay struggling to breath.

That was the straw that broke Beard's back. The man took one last look then turned and began to run.

I gave him a two-second head start before pursuing. It wasn't even fair, Beard was about 5'8 and probably two hundred pounds. I caught up with him before he had even taken eight steps.

I crashed into him from behind and brought him to the ground. He tried to get up but I slammed his head hard into the ground. I slammed it into the ground again, then a third time just because it felt good, because it felt right, because it made the pain inside me easier to bear. No need to break my knuckles against his face.

I checked for a pulse and found it, fluttering weakly. Satisfied, I let out a sigh of relief and got up.

My omni-tool lit up as I activated it and I immediately put a call through to C-sec.

A flanged turian voice came through a second later. "This is C-sec, how can I help you?"

"Hello C-sec emergency services? I would like to report a gang fight outside the Van Holt apartments parking lot. A few of them look badly hurt, can you send paramedics?"

"Of course sir, can you ID the species for us?" the officer asked.

"All human, sir. Please hurry."

"Done, C-sec and paramedics are en-route, ETA will be five minutes. Find a place to hide and stay safe until they arrive, citizen, we'll need—"

I hung up before he could finish. My omni-tool wouldn't be traceable, one of the benefits to having access to Spectre-grade technology. Five minutes.

I moved to where Richard still lay on his back, struggling to breath. I pulled the Talon combat knife I'd had strapped to my back the entire time and flipped it three times in my hands before kneeling down beside him. I put one knee on the ground beside his head and the other one directly on his rapidly-bruising windpipe.

He began to struggle and choke, his fingers scrabbling weakly against the fabric of my jeans. I tapped the flat of the knife against his cheek and looked into his eyes.

"I actually do know who you are, Richard Reddinger. Dropped out of the University of Terra on Bekenstein in 2206 and since then you've been quite busy," I began.

"Five counts of assault, twelve counts of drunken misdemeanors, two counts of alleged accidental manslaughter and three counts of possession of narcotics. You're lucky your parents had money or the law would have put you away for a long, long time."

I took my knee off of his neck, only to replace it with my eight-inch long, turian-made standard combat knife. His eyes went wide with fear and the pungent scent of urine suddenly assailed my nostrils.

I brought my face within inches of his and smiled. "But I'm not the law, at least, not the kind of law that money can protect you from."

For the first time since I'd launched my fist into his throat, Richard spoke.

"H-H-He's m-my son… I'm… his.. father…," he sputtered.

I pressed my knife deeper into his neck, eliciting a grunt of fear from the white-collar, wannabe gangster. I had known people like him my entire life, had my fair share of run-ins with his type as a young boy. They weren't the kind of people you wanted to grow up with.

"You're his biological parent," I corrected him. "Paul Messner was his father, and Sarah Connor was his mother."

I could hear the faint sounds of sirens cutting through the crisp air of the night. I had maybe three minutes left. I raised my head, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cold and nice.

When I opened them again I wasn't smiling any longer. "I'll only say this once, Mr. Reddinger. John is not your son, not any more. You will leave the Citadel and you will never come back. If you try to contact him, I will find you and I will hunt you down and I will disappear you."

The sirens were even louder now. I got up and sheathed my Talon knife behind my lower back.

Richard Reddinger looked to be in catatonic shock. None of his friends that he had brought with him were moving and I wasn't going to stick around to find out if they'd ever move again. I didn't give a shit.

"Goodbye Mr Reddinger. I hope for your sake we never see each other again," I finished.

And with that final gem, I turned and walked away. I pulled out my key fob, got into my skycar, and I drove away into the beautiful, starlit night. Windows down.