*****A Cursed Existence*****

Entry 15: Fan-Freaking-Tastic

AN: Alright! Keeping the ball rolling, so here's hoping I can pump out the next few chapters in a reasonable timeframe! Hopefully the backlog holds up for a bit longer. Let's get right into it, shall we?

CONTENT WARNING: A brief scene at the end of the chapter involving batarians (because who else would it be?) is rather… graphic, given its nature. If you can't handle messy and disturbing things, just giving you a heads-up now. I'll mark it with an ( X ) so you know to skip it if you so choose. You have been warned.

December 26th, 2182, 12:03 am. (5 days later)

T'was the day after Christmas, and all through the house, all the creatures were stirring, including an alien mouse…

*KKZZZZZTTT*

Scratch that, no more mouse.

Sucks to be that mouse… lizard… thing. At least the cleaning drones will get it later.

Closing the camera view showing me where the little rodent had been scampering around in my garage, right before it wandered into an electric trap, I brought my attention back to what I was doing, and picked up where I'd left off.

"To get back on topic now that you aren't busy, what about those donations I mentioned? And the charity?" I asked into the call, it being audio only, which meant I could scroll through some news while I waited for a response.

"The donations to the Calabsan senatorial campaign of Anuri Enhara, as well as those to the Citadel Emergency and Catastrophe Relief Fund were processed and accepted. All required paperwork has been handled, though I'll need your digital signature to confirm some of the additional donations, given their size and… spontaneity."

"What about the write-offs from that Andromeda Initiative donation?"

"Your signature will also be required for that as well, yes. Additionally, the Thessian Central Bank requires a direct call with you to confirm the transfer once more, as their system flagged it initially."

Understandable, though the fact I still have to deal with paperwork and verification procedures when the request was made from my personal omni-tool almost a week ago now… no thank you. Really getting tired of that kind of crap. I mean I get why they do it, but still. How to fix it, though…

Thinking for a good few seconds, and remembering that the asari on the other end, Juna Oso, had been Miri's (aka: my) personal financial manager outside of things like stock market investments – which were handled by Barla Von and his small army of financiers – I came to a decision. Thankfully, it was right before when the silence would have become awkward.

"Good. Excellent even. I do have one last question, though: how long have you been working for me, Juna?"

A brief stint of silence came and went before she responded, not sounding too sure of herself. "I joined Armali Counci 64 years ago, though my previous job gave me certai-"

Cutting her off with a hum, I rephrased the question. "Let me put it like this instead: how long have you been working for me, not just the company."

I already knew the answer given my near flawless memory (when it wasn't buried under the memories of however many bondmates I'd had) but I waited for her to respond. "I believe it was 28 years ago, after last month."

Nodding to myself, I hummed even further. "Correct. Which means that for nearly three decades, you and your team's actions have resulted in the smooth management and growth of nearly two thirds of my total combined assets, even those not directly related to Armali Council, to astronomical proportions. Truly, the amount of money you have overseen could topple entire systems if put to work, and yet rather than skim some of it off the top – I wouldn't really notice a few hundred thousand here and there, and you would know – you have instead acted only in the interest of growing my capital. True, you get a percentage as per the company contract, but we both know that it's miniscule compared to the credits you shuffle around on a daily basis."

Clearly at a loss for words, and not seeing where I was going, I continued at her lack of response. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is this: in all but name, you control hundreds of billions of credits, while only being paid a million or two a year to keep you loyal. That, or perhaps it's the Illium contracting hard at work. As such… what would you say to a 300% increase to your pay percentage in exchange for managing my assets, and only mine, when I'm not available to make a decision on matters, along with determining executive decisions within reason? Naturally this would come with certain benefits and restrictions along with it. For one, you would need new credentials, along with the contract being rewritten for the board to approve of your posting, but I'm certain that can be handled easily enough. For another, you would still need to keep me informed about certain purchases, though that should go without saying. On top of that, the team under you can be brought along, should you wish, and be given matching pay raises as well to ensure their continued support of the," I wanted to say 'make me richer' fund, but instead went with, "effort to increase my yearly profit margins. What do you say?"

A drawn out silence made itself known, and I could swear I heard slight hyperventilation before a sharp intake of breath came across the call. After collecting herself, the just shy of 200 year-old maiden managed to ask the first thing that came to mind. "I… that would be a fantastic opportunity, Matron V'Seila! But how would the company react? Me and my team's contract is with Armali, not you personally."

"An easy fix. I know a few lawyers on Nos Astra that can see about finding a loophole so that I can purchase the contract outright."

"That um. Should be possible, given what I know of the corporate bylaws, yes. But what about the duration of the contract? There are still 16 years left on it."

Wracking my brain, I had to dig into the memory of a particularly business savvy executive from a century ago, said asari and her old contacts being one of the reasons I managed to work my way up to Armali's board of directors so quickly in comparison to my 'peers,' before finding a solution. "The longer I live, the more I realize money can solve an overwhelming majority of problems, if applied in the right direction. I believe your contract is in 20 year intervals, yes?"

"Correct, Matron."

"Well then all we need to do is pay the company what they project your worth over twenty years to be. Aside from that, basic contract management should handle the rest, and if anyone has questions about why I'm carrying out such a move, you can give them my number and I will explain it myself. Any other concerns?"

There was a period of silence where I like to imagine she had the biggest thinking face possible before she eventually answered. "Nothing else I can think of. Though would you allow me some time to talk it over with my team? I can't say for certain if all of them would be willing to go along with the change. Working for Armali does bring a number of benefits, after all."

Huffing, I smiled to myself. There was no way she'd back out now, team or not. "Believe me, with my intentions for the company given the recent boom in cash influx to my accounts, their 'benefits' now will quickly become irrelevant after a few well-timed buyouts."

The polite term for what I had in mind was "hostile takeover." But in my defense, the old crones running the company were absolutely not prepared for the shock to their system that Benezia and Saren going rogue would cause, never mind the war profiteering- I mean, "economic development" I'd be able to cash in on, what with the coming leaps in military expenditures that would happen all across Citadel space due to the geth incursions. If I work it right, I might even be able to direct a few geth fleets to more… shall we say "visible" colonies in council space. Like, for instance, a number of volus and turian worlds, angering the military wing of the big three, and pushing them to further invest in military spending – if that was even possible given their culture – while simultaneously weakening their economy, making it easier for me to wedge my way into it. The icing on the cake was that it would also ease some of the pressure on the human colonies that were targeted off-screen in the games.

How I'd be able to pull this off was amazingly simple in theory: Benezia. Indoctrinated puppet she was, I just needed to put on an act of being "supportive of her cause, no matter what it might lead to" over our next holocall, and she'd buy it wholesale. After all, she had no reason to suspect I was anything but a puppet in the making, which obviously meant I'd provide her possible avenues to find what her and Saren are looking for (prothean data caches, that is). I knew it wouldn't be quite that easy in the end, but a few well placed bribes to some officials to look the other way regarding "smuggled artifacts" would raise enough suspicion for Saren to send a scout party at least to check the rumor. Well, that was the hope anyway.

Bringing myself back to the present, I ended the call by telling the financial manager that she could call back in a day to give her answer. Could I have given her more time? Probably, but I was on a schedule, and I have bigger priorities. Ultimately, this was just a method of making my life that much easier, and was far from absolutely necessary. Even if for whatever reason she decided to reject the offer – which she wouldn't – I had no intention of firing her or finding someone else to do the job. Too much effort, really.

Someone else to do the job… hmm… you know, Barla Von wouldn't be a bad investment manager if not for who his actual boss is. Maybe it's about time I saw to changing that… maybe… after Feros, we'll see. That grave city will be where changes really start happening, I can already feel it, but once I leave it and that freak of fungal nature behind… look out galaxy, here I come.

December 27th, 2182, 10:16 am. (1 day later)

Maybe I'm supposed to hold it like this?

Shuffling the rifle around and grabbing the undertube (or whatever it's called) I held the weapon in question up to my shoulder.

Feels more comfortable now, though I'm not a fan of the iron sights design or placement. Too blocky. Seems more suitable for something out of a bad sci-fi genre. What about the digital, though…

Searching around the composite material that formed the rifle's casing, I eventually found the button to turn on its holo sights.

There we go! Much better! Hmm, loving the semi-transparent black outline and red interior, nice little change of pace from the other's orange-red, though I could still do without the block shape. Make it more circular, dammit!

Deciding to pick apart the gun later to see how it all worked, and maybe change a few features to my own preferences, I took aim at the target I'd set up on the edge of my lake: it was a branch that had fallen off a nearby tree with a conveniently shaped offshoot sticking up from it about as thick as the average arm.

Focusing the sight on my intended target, and making sure it was set to 'sniper' mode, I took in a breath, held it for a second, lightly tapped the trigger, and watched the branch shatter off at the base, pieces of wood scattering around on the muddy dirt, the incendiary round briefly fizzling before it dissipated. The relatively loud crack! as it surpassed the sound barrier was as expected, and nothing that a pair of earmuffs couldn't fix. Compared to a normal powder using firearm, it was actually quite tame, about on par with a suppressed weapon not using subsonic ammo. Given I was around a hundred yards (or meters) away from it, I didn't have to worry about the splinters getting near me, and even if they somehow did, I had a biotic barrier up and running just in case.

Well now… I'd say that was a proper test. Anything even remotely human sized would lose a limb from a shot like that. The recoil was a little more than expected, but given the damage, that only makes sense. What about the other fire modes though…

Cycling to the next one, it resulted in much the same: the burst tore off chunks of wood, leaving a groove in the branch. Nothing out of the ordinary. Getting closer and switching to full auto saw electricity briefly fizzling into existence on impact, which left its own marks on the now thoroughly abused target. Eventually the battery died and it beeped at me, letting me know it 'ran out of ammo.'

Good enough. A little on the bulky side, and could use a better stock, but it works. Though admittedly the 'premium' version works much the same, if not a little smoother in some areas. Still not a fan of the limited number of shots, but given it has better damage, I can see the argument to make for it.

Humming to myself I set the rifle down and started thinking for a moment.

Is it useful? Yes. Would it be more effective than dedicated weapons? Probably not, but it was designed for versatility over efficiency, and having a three-in-one cuts down on weight. The battery packs are rechargeable at least, if a little bulky, though definitely not something I'd employ for military-wide service. Having near unlimited ammo will almost always be more useful than hitting just that little bit harder; thermal clips can get right and properly fucked. Still, overall a solid design, just needs some refinement. Do have to wonder how it holds up under combat conditions… ah well, no matter how expensive the gun, anything breaks with enough use. Besides, if I actually need to use it to that point, there's a good chance I'd have bigger concerns than the gun breaking.

Picking the gun in question back up, I went over to a table set up closer to my house, the other rifles from the shipment placed on it, and gently put it down with the rest. Looking at them side-by-side, the differences between the two variants started becoming more apparent, especially now that I'd actually used them.

I'll have to save these for later. Don't want to break out the fancy toys for just any old shootout… although I feel like getting involved in any sort of shootout would probably be a bad idea, even if it's bound to happen eventually. Ah well, nothing to be done except be ready for it.

Leaving the table behind for later and heading inside for a drink of something cool, I allowed my thoughts to wander some more.

Hmm… having a gun is all well and good, but my armor selection is decidedly on the light side. Really should've bought a new set or three while I was on Noveria or the Citadel. Think I remember seeing a few different flavors of commando leathers upstairs in one of my closets… I wonder though: is lighter armor necessary for biotics, or do they use it simply because it offers more mobility? Probably the second one now that I think about it. Speed is paramount to asari style warfare after all; getting bogged down in a fire fight risks higher casualties than using hit-and-run attacks, though you can't always just run away. I imagine spectres and turian blackwatch operatives prefer heavier armor sets, to say nothing of krogan biotics like Wrex. Something to think about for the future I suppose.

Sipping a nice cup of juice, I was about to head outside to collect the gear when my omni-tool started ringing.

Now who could this be? Ah, I recognize that number. Suppose she made her decision then. Well, let's get this out of the way; I want to eat dinner on time tonight, and the Comets game will be starting soon. Gotta support the home team, after all.

Answering the call and finding a comfortable spot to sit down, I leaned back and listened to what my minion- er, I mean, financial manager had to say…

Meanwhile, Somewhere in a dark alley on Omega…

Trudging along the alleyway was a human man, dragging a turian by its' wrists via a pair of cuffs. Said turian was currently unconscious and bleeding somewhat from a previously broken mandible that had been forced back into its socket none-too-gently. As for the human, he was middle aged, wore old yellow and white armor that had carried him to hell and back, and his face was heavily scarred, with his right eye clearly being artificial given the difference of color compared to his left one.

"Oohhhh…" the turian groaned after being dragged over a bump a little too roughly, slowly beginning to come back to his senses.

"Oh is the fuckin' bird man starting to wake up already? Can't have that, now can we? Back to sleep, ya little shit," the human said, deciding to simply punch the turian at just the right angle to do minimal brain damage while ensuring he wouldn't be waking up again anytime soon.

"Damn rooster's bounty wasn't even worth dealing with this hellhole for more than a week… I Goddamn hate Omega…"

Continuing on his way, Zaeed Massani kept an eye out on the surrounding area, just in case the little cockroach had some friends that wanted to spring him at the last second. Fortunately (or maybe not considering he was in the mood to kill something) nothing happened for the rest of his trip, and he eventually arrived at a dingy warehouse with the client waiting outside. Strolling up to the salarian and his turian bodyguard, all casual like, Zaeed released his still unconscious bounty with a thud, giving the frog a stare after.

"Job's done. Here's your mark, and in one piece as ordered. I expect to see that bonus for my 'still breathing' fee along with it."

The salarian examined the bounty's face, and having confirmed that Zaeed was telling the truth, he nodded. "Very well. The 20,000 credit payment will be delivered as soon as possible."

Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Zaeed glared at the amphibian. "It was 25,000."

Immediately dismissing his statement, the salarian waved him off. "No, clearly remember it being twenty. Perhaps human memory is faulty."

Having no desire to get cheated out of his hard earned cash, the hardened merc glared at the punk in front of him. That was when he noticed the guard slowly twitching towards his weapon, and not having any of that shit, he beat the damn raptor to the punch, literally. A left jab to the mandible stunned him, the follow-up leg sweep ended in the receiving leg being bent sideways at the knee with an audible 'SNAP!' and to keep the damn alien from squawking and screaming in pain after, Zaeed landed a final right hook into the bird's cranium, being knocked out similarly to the bounty he brought in.

"Now then," he growled out with a satisfied crack of his knuckles, the salarian looking like he didn't know whether to run or piss himself. "I believe you and me still have a contract to negotiate. How does 30,000 credits for my time sound to you?"

"B-b-but we had a deal for twenty-five!" the salarian stammered out.

"Yes we did, ya damn toad. But then you went and broke it. Now pay up, or I'll just take if off you after I recreate to you what I just did with your little boyfriend here."

Turning a rather interesting shade of pale green, the salarian apparently decided that he liked having his kneecaps in one piece, and wisely paid up. Walking away thirty thousand richer, Zaeed allowed his mind to wander some now that the job was done.

Well now, that ended better than I thought it would. Fucking morons don't seem to realize that I'm not some damn toddler with their daddy's old gun. I need a Goddamn drink…

Before he could take more than a few steps, his 'tool alerted him to a message. Scowling a little and finding a quiet enough looking corner, he leaned against the metal plating that passed for a wall and opened the message. The header almost made him delete it on habit before he gave it a closer look.

"Help wanted!

Looking for mercenaries willing to be employed long-term across various terrain and environments. Payment determined upon successful interview.

Benefits included: cloned and/or cybernetic limb replacement, gene therapy, dismemberment medical treatment costs, possible burial fees.

Employer: Smiling Warlord Umaka, of the Red Fleet. Batarians need not apply.

Recruitment center locations attached below."

'Smiling'? Never thought I'd see a fuckin' warlord start their self-appointed title with that. Hmm. Ah shit, may as well look into it. Maybe this one isn't as psychotic as every other sonofabitch to make a name for themselves in the Terminus. Heh… doubt it though.

Meanwhile, Kite's Nest, Indris System, Batarian Hegemony colony Camala, Capital city Ujon.

"Unhand me, you filthy wretch! Don't you know who I am?!" Demanded Arth Rak'sarh, a pureblooded noble of an ancient lineage from Khar'shan, who also happened to be third cousin to the Hegemon. He was currently being forced along – roughly at that – by a guard belonging to the governor's estate.

The guard didn't respond, aside from tilting his head to the right in clear arrogance, before shoving him forward once more. If not for the helmet covering his face, Arth would've memorized his features to have the fool punished upon returning home to his family's manse.

"Keep moving, My Lord, Governor Tamas doesn't like being kept waiting."

Growling at the mocking tone, Arth almost snapped at the guard again before remembering that he was above dealing with pathetic fools such as this. He would resolve the blatant disrespect by letting the guard's master know of it.

Along they walked, with Arth purposefully slowing down at times just to spite the guard, though after a few minutes of doing so even that became boring. Deciding to get this over with so as to move on with his life, he sped up to a more reasonable pace, smirking in satisfaction at the agitated grumbles coming from the servile that was forcing him along.

Finally arriving at the throne room, it being a standard feature of any proper Hegemonic nobility, even one as far removed from the capital as this world was, he turned to face the guard, tilting his head as far right as possible. He almost wanted to sneer at the pathetic excuse of a batarian, but stopped himself, again remembering how little he cared for displaying his true feelings for one as unworthy of them as this fool.

"Well? Open the door, already. Your Governor is waiting for me."

The only visible response to his remark was the guard squeezing his hands enough to make the suit's material creak slightly, followed by tilting his head to the left in deference. "Of course, My Lord."

Pressing a button to do as commanded, the doors opened out, revealing the room beyond. Honestly, for a governor of one of the Hegemony's wealthiest and fastest growing colonies, it was a remarkably bland affair: a simple throne of steel, albeit one polished to a perfect shine, placed behind a long table filled with documents and surrounded by smaller chairs of the same design, some with occupants, with a few scattered paintings along the walls, and a number of crystal chandeliers lit by holographic flames. Perhaps oddest of all, though, was a group of four individuals standing around or behind the throne and its sole occupant.

They were all extremely well toned, bodies clearly hardened from years of training and combat, and he quickly glanced over each of them from left to right out of curiosity: an older looking asari with claw-like scars across half her face; a krogan with burning gold eyes who was missing a part of his crest and had a nasty scar leading down the side of his face that started where the chunk of said crest had been messily slashed off; a batarian man with burn marks around his neck and a scar on top of his head that looked to be from a glancing projectile; and, perhaps oddest of all, a relatively normal looking batarian woman whose only noticeable feature was one of her ear tips being cut short. Granted, she was fairly attractive with her lean muscle and smooth face, but compared to some of his family's pleasure slaves, she wasn't that special.

"Ah, if it isn't Arth Rak'sarh, firstborn and future inheritor of the Rak'sarh estate, and renown noble of Khar'shan," the governor started, tone smooth and collected, and with each word, Arth felt himself preen at the recognition. The man himself was wearing a silver grey tailored suit in an old style that Arth didn't recognize, with what looked to be a mix of a shield emitter and vest underneath that matched the suit – a fairly common piece of attire on most nobility he knew of – and complimented his dark grey skin. His badge of office was pinned to his shoulder, it being a crowned batarian skull, showing the power and trust granted to the man by the Hegemon.

"Indeed I am. Finally, someone in this palace that knows how to respect a distinguished guest."

The governor's upper eyes narrowed briefly as the man stared at him, though Arth barely noticed, before he continued. "Yes, something of that nature. However, I am afraid this meeting will have to be quick. Pray tell, Lord Rak'sarh, do you know why I summoned you here?"

Feeling his pride flare up at the way the governor worded it, as if he was nothing but a peasant to be summoned at will, Arth growled in the back of his throat, but he managed to reign it in before anyone noticed the slip in composure. Tilting his head in disdain and sneering, he responded. "No, the incredibly ignorant guard that forced me here gave no such explanation. Clearly a display of his own incompetence and negligence."

The governor nodded along in understanding. "Oh, clearly. I will be sure to reward him appropriately."

Hah! That lowborn pyjak will- wait, reward? Perhaps he meant 'reward' as in 'with a punishment appropriate for failing in such a way'?

"You seem confused, Lord Rak'sarh," the governor commented, occasionally glancing at a dataslate off to the side.

Recovering from his momentary puzzlement, Arth focused back on the governor. "Not at all. I was just thinking I would enjoy seeing the 'reward' you had in mind for him."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid that's impossible. He is my guard, after all, and I should be the one to handle it."

Nodding along, Arth accepted the answer for what it was. "So, Governor Tamas, why did you request my presence?"

Fully bringing his attention back to Arth, the governor stared at him for a moment without giving anything away before pulling a dataslate from on top of a pile near his throne. "About two standard months ago, I instituted a new law on my world that states as such: No sentient, regardless of their standing, shall be approached for sexual engagement, with or without consent, if they are under the appropriate age of adulthood."

Not really seeing the meaning behind why such a law was brought up now, or why it related to him, Arth blinked in confusion. "What of it?"

Narrowing all of his eyes, enough for Arth to notice and be even further confused by, the governor kept going. "I was just made aware that three days ago, soon after your arrival here, you forced one of my servants to pleasure you. Is this rumor false?"

Thinking back on it, Arth did remember some asari slave girl he found wandering through the halls back then. She was such a pretty thing, too; certainly more lively than most of the other females in the governor's estate, even if he had to force her to quiet during the servicing he rightfully demanded.

"What of it? She bore the mark of a pleasure slave. I merely partook, as my station allows."

Now the governor glared at him, head tilting up and to the right to show his disgust. "That 'pleasure slave' is the daughter of my head maid, the mark on her a holdover from the brothel that used to own the two of them, and she belongs to my household above all else. Additionally, she is not yet an adult by asari standards, and is only 42 years old. Now, as you deny any pretense of innocence, and you were informed of this law on arrival, clearly, you didn't realize or didn't care about the punishment for breaking it. Regardless of your standing, the Hegemon himself placed me in power here on this world, with total authority to do as I wished here so long as the wealth and eezo continued to flow back to the capital. As such, when you broke that law, you directly defied the Hegemon, basically spitting in his eyes."

By now Arth was slowly beginning to realize what was happening, and as the governor continued what was obviously a sentencing, he felt an equal mixture of shock, outrage, and panic hitting him.

"Be grateful all you will lose here is an eye; were you of lesser standing, I would see you blinded and castrated."

"Lose a- what is that supposed to mea-" before he could demand an answer, a pair of guards approached him from behind, forcing an apparatus over his face. A moment later, he felt a shock of electricity hit him, and immediately he lost all feeling in his face.

"Urraaa… raaahhh!" he tried saying something, anything, but everything was too numb to move as he wanted it. He couldn't even stand, as the guards held him in place, forcing him down onto his knees. All the while, the courtesans in the throne room all watched on as if this was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

"Etara, I believe this time it's your turn to carry out the sentence," the governor commented to the scarred asari at his right, and the alien grinned wickedly at the sight of Arth's helplessness. The krogan standing next to her huffed and grinned himself, nudging the asari forward almost playfully.

"Of course, My Lord. I'll make this quick so we can move on to the next issue."

( X )

Striding forward with the grace of a predator, all while slowly pulling out a razor thin knife from a sheath behind her back, the alien soon stood over him, giving him an evil smile that looked more at home on a fiend than what should've just been an especially burly stripper.

"You know, you're rather fortunate," she said before slowly reaching for his upper right eye with her open hand, all while he moaned louder and louder, terror flooding his veins at what was to come. "Not many can say they survived an encounter with the Blue Butcher of the Arena."

All he could do was stare in utter fear as, immediately after she said it, she reached into his eye socket with a brief squelch and pulled. Given how numb he was, all he felt was an unnatural tugging on something in his skull before losing all vision from that eye, his mind trying and failing to comprehend what was happening. A quick flash of silver had the tugging sensation stop, and the asari pulled her arm back to stare at the black orb she now had dangling from her fingers on a string of flesh.

"Myyyyyy… eeeeeeyyeee…" he couldn't help but moan dumbly, staring at it in absolute horror.

"Yes, yes, little lord, this is indeed your eye," she chirped happily, continuing to dangle it for a moment before turning it into nothingness with a brief glow of biotics. "Or at least, it was your eye. Don't worry, though, I'm sure mommy and daddy can buy you a new one."

( X )

Prancing back to her spot, the asari went up to the krogan and punched him in the shoulder. The lizard barely moved from it, but the rumbling coming from him was very reminiscent of a laugh.

"Well, that makes twelve for me. Keep up why don't you?"

"The small ones only count for half, you crazy fish," was the krogan's reply, a grin stretching across his features.

The pair's byplay was cut short by the governor raising a hand, and as quickly as it began, they both went back to being silent watchers, even if there was lingering amusement in their eyes. As for Arth, he was trying and failing to keep himself from losing his grasp on reality, now that his eye had been literally ripped from him.

"Now then. As a further accommodation, you will be given the appropriate medical care to see that your wound does not become infected. However, upon confirmation that it won't harm you further, you and your retinue will be sent back to your estate at the earliest possible moment. Your parents have already been informed of your transgression, and are awaiting your arrival. The guards will escort you to my surgeon for your examination as soon as you're able to stand. Remember this the next time you visit my world and attempt to break its laws in the belief your name is all it takes to protect you."

As the governor said it, both of the guards holding him down backed away, taking the numbing device with them. Already he could feel a small but steadily growing ache from where his eye used to be, and he had to stop himself from reaching up to touch it. Slowly, and with shaky legs, he eventually worked up the strength to stand, barely registering it as he was guided out of the throne room, lost in a waking nightmare such as he was.

Governor Tamas, on the other hand, scowled at nothing in particular after the waste of flesh finally left his sight. "I swear, every time I'm forced to deal with idiotic man-children with no control of their second brain, it makes me question how the Hegemony has lasted this long."

Now that they were sealed off from the outside world once more, one of his advisors spoke up. "Well, it's a good thing you seek to force it to change for the better then, Lord Tamas. The road will be long no matter what thanks to our moronic predecessors sabotaging our entire species in their arrogance."

"I suppose you're right," he admitted with a sigh, moving to pick up a fresh dataslate, the one with a proposal from Dah'tan Manufacturing placed off to the side. "Now about those public reconstruction efforts we were focusing on before this…"

What's this? A batarian with an actual brain, who isn't just a cartoon villain? Impossible… or is it? And Zaeed is, of course, doing Zaeed things like the angry old uncle we all know and love.

Anyway, if you couldn't tell, I'm making efforts to expand the plot somewhat. The galaxy is a massive place, after all. No telling what's going on in some dark corner somewhere.

I'll be posting the next chapter two weeks from now. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you then.