The three Spectres stood in the dimly lit corner of a quiet C-Sec briefing room, each one deep in thought as they considered their next move. Kol, the Salarian, was the first to break the silence, stepping forward with his typical quick movements and glancing at the other two. His fingers tapped against his data pad, his expression thoughtful as he spoke.

"So, we need to talk about what to do next," he began, his tone calm but laced with urgency.

Vyras crossed his arms, the impatience clear on his face as he glared down at the readouts in front of him. "C-Sec's lack of progress is starting to grate on me. We're giving them every resource they could possibly need, and yet, Winters has gone completely quiet. How does a man with his record go silent in a lockdown?"

Nira leaned back against the wall, uncharacteristically calm, her gaze flicking between them. "If he's that quiet, he might have already slipped out," she said, almost musingly. "We need to face the fact that Winters might not even be in Zakara anymore."

Kol tilted his head, nodding. "That's the only logical solution," he agreed, his voice steady. "And, quite frankly, I don't think C-Sec is equipped to corner him. Not at this point, anyway."

Vyras's eyes narrowed, irritation flashing in his gaze. "What do you mean?"

Kol took a breath, shifting his weight as he explained. "I've been looking through his credit transactions. Winters wasn't exactly hiding, but his purchases were… unusual. He was buying nonsense items, things that make no sense for a man on the run. He was drawing C-Sec's attention on purpose, pushing them all over Zakara to study their response patterns. My guess is he wanted to see how they'd react, how far they'd go to lock him in."

Nira let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "So he's been playing with C-Sec this entire time? Brilliant. And now that he's seen them dance, he's gone to ground. If that's the case, I agree, C-Sec needs to be left out of this going forward."

Kol nodded, his eyes glinting with quiet determination. "Precisely. We should pull back and let C-Sec handle the surface-level security measures, but we need to operate like nothing is wrong. Go back to basics, the old-fashioned way. We keep surveillance up and strike only when his guard is down."

Vyras's mandibles twitched in frustration, his posture tense. "So, we just let him walk out? Hope he slips up?"

Kol interrupted him, raising a hand. "No, we don't let him leave. C-Sec can still be useful, if we position them wisely. They can keep a tight watch around the docks and other major transit points to restrict movement between wards. That way, we can ensure he doesn't leave the Citadel. And when we get a positive ID… we move in. Just us."

Vyras seemed to mull it over, the tension in his frame easing only slightly. "You're confident we'll get him if we let C-Sec pull back?"

Kol nodded sharply. "Winters is skilled, but he's not infallible. Once he thinks we've lost interest, he'll make a move. And when he does, we'll be watching."

Nira crossed her arms, giving a faint smile. "It's actually a smart plan, Vyras. With all the noise and confusion C-Sec's been making, he'll think the Spectres have backed off. He won't expect us to be the ones waiting in the shadows."

Vyras finally let out a slow breath, nodding. "Fine. We'll ease up on the lockdown and let him think he's got the upper hand. But I want surveillance tight, and I want updates every hour. If he so much as breathes too loudly, I want to know about it."

Kol tilted his head, a satisfied expression flickering across his face. "Agreed. And if we catch even a whisper of him making a move, we'll have the upper hand."

Nira gave a small, determined nod. "This ends the moment he thinks he's in the clear. We just need to wait him out."

Kol adjusted his stance, his sharp eyes shifting to Vyras with a spark of curiosity. "By the way, Vyras," he began, his voice casual but tinged with interest. "How did your interview with Athria go? The Asari who worked with Winters?"

Vyras's mandibles twitched, his gaze hardening slightly as he recalled the encounter. "Interesting, but… evasive," he said, a note of frustration in his tone. "She claimed she hasn't seen Winters since Elysium, and she tried to convince me she still thinks he's dead. Not exactly what I'd call helpful."

Nira arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk on her lips. "And you believed that?"

Vyras let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Not for a second. She was hiding something. Athria tried to play it cool, but I caught her hesitation. She's no fool, but she's not as subtle as she thinks. She was practically clinging to her story, as if it were her only shield."

Kol tilted his head thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against his datapad as he took in the information. "Evasive behavior… hesitation… if she's protecting him, then Winters might already have a safe haven on the Citadel. Athria would know exactly where to hide him if she's been working with him. It's not unlikely she has contacts who could create temporary cover, forged IDs, anything to keep him from our radar."

Vyras nodded, his expression grim. "That's what I suspect. But she's not going to break easily. Whatever loyalty she has for Winters runs deep. She even hinted she'd go after him herself if she thought he was here, but I don't buy it. She knows more than she's letting on, and I have a feeling she's far from done covering for him."

Nira sighed, her gaze flickering with irritation. "As much as I'd love to put pressure on her, it'd tip Winters off if she's really in contact with him. He'd vanish the moment he heard we were closing in."

Kol tapped his chin thoughtfully, glancing between them. "Perhaps there's another approach. Athria may be loyal, but if we track her closely enough, she could lead us straight to him. If she thinks we've pulled back from her, she'll lower her guard." Vyras's eyes narrowed, considering. "You're suggesting we use her as bait. Let her think she's succeeded in throwing us off and then watch her closely."

Kol nodded, his voice calm but decisive. "Precisely. We keep her under light surveillance, enough to observe without alarming her. If Winters reaches out to her, or if she tries to meet him herself, we'll know."

Nira leaned forward, a hint of approval in her eyes. "Sounds like a better lead than chasing our tails through the wards. If she cares about him, she'll reach out, eventually. And when she does, we'll be ready."

Vyras clenched his fists, his irritation slowly giving way to a determined resolve. "Fine. We'll follow her, quietly. If Winters is using Athria as a safe point, then it's only a matter of time before he makes contact. And when he does, we won't let him slip away again."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The two of them stayed on the couch through the night, neither wanting to break the unspoken comfort of each other's presence. Athria lay there, feeling the lingering warmth in the cushions as Martin eventually stirred and got up to use the bathroom. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, a flood of conflicting thoughts running through her mind. Spectres, C-Sec, Zakara ward locked down just for a chance to catch him… it was overwhelming. And yet, as she lay there in the quiet, she felt oddly prepared. She'd slept more deeply that night than she had in weeks. The restless weight she'd carried since he'd disappeared had lifted, if only slightly.

The soft sound of the bathroom door sliding open pulled her back to reality. Martin walked out, feet padding quietly across the floor as he sat back down beside her on the couch. He reached for his boots and began lacing them up, his movements purposeful, quiet. Athria shifted, wrapping an arm around his waist as she remained lying down, watching him.

"Going somewhere?" she asked. Martin smirked, glancing down at her. "Yeah," he said, pulling the laces tight. "I need to keep moving. They'll figure out I'm not in Zakara anymore pretty soon. And considering they already stopped by here yesterday… it won't take them long to put two and two together." She sighed, pushing herself up as she sat beside him. "So, I should probably go with you," she said, the determination clear in her voice.

Martin sighed, his expression softening. "No. Not yet." He looked at her, watching the way her face turned sour at his words. He raised a hand, calming her. "Just hear me out. I need someone to start digging into this mess from a different angle. You're good at that."

Athria frowned. "Where do I even start?" she asked, the skepticism in her voice betraying a hint of frustration. He considered it, the silence stretching between them as he thought. "Try information brokers first. Maybe see if you can trace back who originally issued the order. If we can figure that out, we might be able to work our way back to whoever's calling the shots."

She studied him, her mind running through the possibilities of his suggestion. "And what are you going to do?" she asked, her voice cautious. He smirked slightly. "Keep moving. If they do get close, I'll make them think twice about following me… within reason." He shot her a reassuring look, as if trying to calm her worry.

Athria rolled her eyes but nodded, knowing that arguing with him would only lead to the same result. "Alright," she said, resigned but firm. She reached for his wrist, pulling it toward her, and began typing into his omni-tool. Martin raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up an encrypted channel for comms and messages," she explained, her fingers flying across the interface. "I'm installing a program we used back in the Commandos to keep the STG freaks out of our business when we had to work with them." She gave him a small smirk. "For a species that's supposed to have no sex drive, Salarians sure knew how to act like perverts."

Martin chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her. "So now we're using the Asari Commando's tricks to dodge Spectres? Feels almost poetic." She flashed him a look that was both playful and serious. "Whatever it takes. You're not running through this one alone, Martin. So don't try anything without me."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Kol adjusted his position, watching the apartment complex intently through a surveillance feed from his omni-tool. Hours had passed, and still nothing. The waiting didn't bother him—he was used to playing the long game. But Martin Winters remained elusive, a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit. He tapped his fingers in a steady rhythm, thinking through every possible angle, every shred of information he had. This human was unlike any target he'd analyzed before, and Kol's analytical mind was eager for more, for anything that could help him understand the enigma that was Martin Winters.

The Citadel records… what a disappointment. He'd expected some deeper background on the man, details about his tactics, his ideology, something to explain how Winters had suddenly emerged out of nowhere, fully-formed, nearly two years ago. Before that, nothing but blank space. Kol's mind raced as he weighed the gaps, looking for patterns that weren't there, reasons that didn't quite align. Why now? Why here? Why on the Citadel? There was a reason for every action, a motivation behind every move. He just needed more data.

As he pondered this, his thoughts sharpened as he saw movement from the complex below. The figure who stepped out made him sit straighter, his attention fully engaged. Winters. So, the Asari had lied. Interesting. That would need addressing, perhaps a follow-up visit to her later. Yes. It would be easy enough to send a quick message to Vyras and Nira, to let them know about Athria's duplicity. No doubt they'd be eager to keep her under closer watch now. But Winters, he thought, his mind snapping into calculation mode. Winters is the priority.

Should he follow him? Yes. This was a prime opportunity. Winters didn't know he was being watched—his guard might be down. And with the C-Sec presence lightened up in the area, Kol could afford to keep some distance, allowing Winters to think he was moving freely. A classic strategy: let the target feel safe, then strike when they least expect it.

But there was another thought tugging at Kol's mind. The best way to extract information wasn't always through direct confrontation. Talking to Winters, engaging him, drawing out details in conversation… yes, that could prove far more illuminating. If he could catch Winters off-guard, subtly probe his motives, his thought patterns, perhaps he could gain insights that no file or report could provide.

Kol's mind raced, mapping out possible scenarios. A subtle approach—pose as an ally, maybe? Or perhaps something simpler, an unexpected "chance" encounter? His voice hummed with rapid excitement as he muttered to himself, "Yes, yes… the element of surprise. Humans respond to perceived safety. Talking first, engage the intellect. Questions, but no direct threats."

Deciding in a flash, Kol sent a quick message to Vyras and Nira about Athria's deception, instructing them to keep surveillance on her. Then, with a quick flick of his fingers, he closed the message and adjusted his position, setting his sights on Winters as he slipped further into the crowd below.

Observe. Engage. Get him talking. Analyze. Kol's heart quickened as he planned his approach, the thrill of the hunt finally beginning to take shape.

Kol had been trailing Martin for hours, his cloaking field keeping him nearly invisible as he observed every subtle movement, every calculated turn. Martin moved through the crowds in strange patterns, never heading in a particular direction for too long, yet somehow looking entirely unfazed. No excess energy wasted—efficient, controlled. He wasn't merely wandering; he was playing the game with a practiced ease. Interesting, Kol thought, he's done this before. Amateurs would let their guard down eventually. Not him.

He drew closer, weaving through the crowd for a better look. No armor, but the faint hum of kinetic barriers under the leather jacket suggested Martin wasn't relying solely on luck. A sidearm concealed beneath his jacket. No visible personal effects—no dog tags, no religious symbols. Military? Uncertain. Kol's sharp eyes noticed the subtle glint on Martin's wrist, a small gold chain wrapped around it. Personal significance? Perhaps. A sentimentality he hadn't expected.

Kol moved quickly ahead and decloaked just outside as Martin entered a bar, slipping into a booth in the back, his back to the wall, a spot with a clear line of sight to the exit. Early for a drink, Kol mused, his thoughts racing. Or perhaps he's meeting someone. A co-conspirator?

Kol entered, scanning the room as he settled at the bar. He watched as Martin pulled out his omni-tool, leaning back as he tapped into its interface. Yes, use it, human, Kol thought, excitement sparking as he began working his own omni-tool to gain remote access. But the moment he attempted the link, he hit a wall. Advanced encryption—strange for someone marked as a low-level tech threat.

So, not as tech-illiterate as they assumed. Kol filed away the information. Winters was either resourceful or had access to advanced tech support. Both options intrigued him.

Closing his omni-tool, Kol stood up, acting as if he were making his way to the restroom. He passed Martin, who remained focused on his screen, not sparing him a glance. Good—he was unaware. Kol stepped into the bathroom, idling there for a few minutes to keep up appearances. But when he emerged, Martin's booth was empty. His eyes darted across the bar, scanning for any trace of him. He spotted the bartender, who, with a subtle nod, pointed to the back exit.

Kol slipped out the back, picking up his pace to a light jog as he followed the narrow alley. Suddenly, as he passed an alcove, a voice barked out, sharp and clear. "Stop."

Kol halted, turning calmly to see Martin Winters standing there, a large black pistol leveled at him with a steady, single-handed grip. Kol's mind immediately analyzed the stance, the confidence, the lack of hesitation. Quick threat assessment. Impressive.

Martin's eyes narrowed. "Who are you, what do you want, and before you bullshit me, I don't make it a habit of repeating myself."

Kol felt a flicker of admiration, even as the barrel of the gun was pointed directly at him. He smiled, a small, calculating expression. "I'm impressed," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the hint of approval.

Martin raised an eyebrow, his grip unwavering. "I'm thrilled. Answer the question, or I find out what a salarian's insides look like."

Kol held up his hands in a non-threatening gesture, though his mind was racing with observations. Direct, assertive. Not intimidated by status or rank. Likely uses threats to push control over the situation. "My name is Kol Vathri," he said, his tone casual, almost conversational. "And as for what I want… I'm here to observe."

Martin snorted, unimpressed. "Observe, huh? C-Sec doesn't usually send salarians halfway across the ward just to 'observe.' Try again."

Deflecting questions with sarcasm, Kol noted mentally, his gaze flicking over Martin's posture. A means to maintain control. Suggests he's uncomfortable with direct confrontation but adept at managing verbal engagements. He decided to push, see if he could unsettle Winters. "C-Sec? No, no, I'm afraid I'm far more interesting than that." Kol offered a small, amused smile, watching Martin's reaction closely. "You've made quite an impression on the Citadel, you know. Three Spectres… that's quite the reputation."

Martin's smirk didn't falter. "Glad to know I'm keeping you all entertained. What's the next act? Do I dance, or do you?"

Kol chuckled, a genuine appreciation for the human's audacity shining through. "You could dance, if it helps. But I'd rather talk. I'm interested in learning what makes you tick, Mr. Winters. Why someone like you—who claims no loyalty, no creed—ends up at the center of so much chaos."

Martin tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Guess I just have that kind of face. Now, since you're all so curious, tell me this—did it ever occur to you that I'm not as interesting as you seem to think?"

Disdain for authority, Kol mused, filing away each verbal maneuver. Possibly resentment. His resistance to questioning suggests distrust, likely stemming from past experiences with hierarchies. Valuable information. "Oh, we considered that," Kol replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But here's the thing, Winters—you're not boring. Your movements, your methods… they don't match the profile we were given."

Martin shrugged, his grip on the pistol steady. "Maybe your profile's outdated. Maybe the Citadel's grasp on intel is as poor as its decor." He flashed a sarcastic smile. "And here I thought you salarians prided yourselves on being thorough."

Kol's eyes sparkled with amusement, though his mind was turning over every word. Defensive. Deflecting with humor, almost mocking. But the anger in his eyes… genuine. He feels betrayed, perhaps? Mistrust of larger systems. Interesting.

"Thorough, yes," Kol said, his voice dropping to a calm, persuasive tone. "But thoroughness isn't infallible. That's where you come in. Help us, and maybe this… mess around you starts to clear up."

Martin scoffed, lowering his gun just slightly, though his stance remained tense. "Help you? Oh, that's rich. Let me guess—you Spectres think you're just the pinnacle of virtue, yeah? I've seen the 'help' your kind provides, and trust me, I'd rather skip the charity."

Kol tilted his head, his gaze studying Martin as though reading each layer of cynicism like a data file. Cynical, likely bitter. His experience with Spectres left him distrustful. But if he truly had no reason to stay, why is he here? He tried a different angle.

"Alright, no charity," Kol said, his tone gentle, coaxing. "But maybe a truce. You're resourceful, skilled… it's wasteful, this game we're playing. We both know you're too intelligent to think it'll end well."

Martin looked him over, weighing his words with a faint sneer. "What, you think I'm gonna sell myself out to you? Give you the satisfaction of parading me in front of the Council so they can pat you on the back? Dream on."

Kol sighed, though inside he was fascinated. Self-preservation instinct strong, but not purely selfish. He's refusing on principle. Possibly values autonomy over any other ideal. "We're not so different, you know," Kol offered. "Both seeking answers, in our own ways. I could help you. We could help each other."

Martin's smirk returned, cold and mocking. "You think you know me. That's cute. You've read a file and followed me around like a shadow, and suddenly you think you're in my head?"

"Perhaps I don't know you yet," Kol admitted, smiling slightly. "But I intend to."

Martin's grip on the pistol tightened. "Well, keep dreaming, because you're not getting any closer than this." He took a step back, eyes sharp and unwavering. "Now get out of my way, Kol, or next time, I don't bother with conversation."

Kol held his ground, a calculating look in his eyes as he processed the exchange. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, his voice calm, almost amused. "Fine. But don't mistake our next encounter for kindness."

Martin's smirk held, but his eyes were colder now. "Noted. Now, walk away."

Kol turned and began to step back, cataloging every subtle detail of the encounter as he walked away, his mind racing. Distrustful, resentful of authority, values autonomy, potential martyr complex. He smiled to himself,

As Kol walked away, his mind raced over every detail of the encounter, analyzing and dissecting it from every possible angle. Martin hadn't killed him. That, above all, struck him as peculiar. Winters had killed a Spectre without hesitation, so why spare him, an open adversary, when he had every opportunity to eliminate a threat?

Fascinating, Kol thought, a glimmer of intrigue sharpening his focus. This man, who was already marked as a high-risk target, seemed to operate by a different set of principles than the standard mercenary or soldier. There was a method to his choices, a guiding logic that was difficult to decipher but hinted at something deeper.

Kol's analytical mind whirred as he continued his train of thought. Martin had never seen him before, yet somehow had managed to instantly assess him as a threat. It wasn't common for someone, especially a human, to see through a salarian's subtlety so quickly. But Martin had pegged him immediately. Kol could only conclude that Winters was remarkably adept at reading individuals, discerning danger from the slightest hints. A skill like that… not easily developed. Either he's been doing this a long time, or he's been trained by someone exceptional.

A profile began to form in Kol's mind, each detail fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Autonomy is his priority, he noted. Winters had refused to cooperate, even when offered the prospect of an alliance. He was protective of his freedom, his choices, and wouldn't compromise those values, even if it meant resisting three Spectres. Kol's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. There's a conviction there, but is it personal pride or a matter of principle? Or perhaps… something more?

He cataloged each observation meticulously: Resentment of authority, likely from a betrayal or unjust judgment. Martin's disdain for Spectres, his willingness to mock, all hinted at someone who had little patience for hierarchy or power. And yet, beneath that cynicism was an odd consistency—Martin seemed to have his own code, a set of rules he wasn't willing to break, even when it could be advantageous.

Kol's mind flickered to the small gold chain around Martin's wrist. Sentimental attachment to something small and seemingly insignificant. Was it a token? A reminder? Whatever it represented, it suggested that Martin wasn't just a wandering soldier with no roots. Perhaps a memory, something that keeps him grounded…

With every observation, Kol's curiosity grew. Martin Winters was indeed an enigma, a man who didn't quite fit any of the standard profiles, someone who had been misjudged by nearly everyone on the Citadel. And Kol's instincts told him that there was more to uncover, more layers hidden beneath that defiance and sarcasm.

The challenge was enticing, almost exhilarating. Kol allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. A puzzle worth solving, he thought.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Martin slowed his pace as he slipped back into the bustling crowd, blending in as if the alley encounter had never happened. He raised a hand to his comm, keeping his tone casual but low. "Athria, just ran into the second Spectre. Salarian. Felt more like I was chatting with a psychoanalyst than an assassin."

A soft chuckle crackled through his comm as Athria's voice came back. "Yeah, Salarians are like that. Did it… turn ugly?" she asked, a hint of worry edging her tone.

Martin smirked. "No, I just held him at gunpoint for a bit. I think he was more interested in dissecting my psyche than actually fighting. He tried to get inside my head, analyze me… so I gave him the Martin 1.0 treatment."

"Oh, the classic anti-authority, 'get the hell out of my way' act?" she teased, clearly amused.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Just keep an eye out," he added, "He's been following me since I left your place, then they probably know you're helping."

"Figures," Athria replied. "Thanks for the heads-up." Athria's voice cut out, leaving Martin to his thoughts as he navigated through the thickening crowd.

That Salarian was an annoyance, he mused. He was lucky he'd spotted Kol's cloak flickering as he passed by him. Most people wouldn't have noticed the glitch in the corner of their eye, but Martin had seen it. Cloaking tech might be impressive, but it wasn't flawless. Move too fast, and the light-bending field stumbled. The salarian had been overeager, pushing a bit too hard. Amateur mistake.

The thought brought a strange satisfaction. For all of Kol's attempts to glean information about him, Martin had walked away with just as much insight. Information-gathering was a two-way street—he'd learned that early on. If Kol had attacked, maybe he'd have been surprised. But he'd been too curious, too keen to probe Martin's motives instead of simply taking him out.

Good. I can use that. Martin's mind turned, weighing the possibilities. If he could keep the salarian talking, keep him focused on his "analysis," he might be able to pry a few answers out of him. Maybe even figure out what exactly made Kol tick.

Kol's excitement had been written all over him. The way he'd abandoned his own cover in the bar, assuming Martin wouldn't catch the shift in his behavior—it was all too telling. The salarian's curiosity had overruled his caution. A good Spectre might be patient, might bide their time, but Kol had shown his hand early.

Martin shook his head with a chuckle. Keep following me, Kol. Let's see how long it takes before I get under your skin, too.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Athria leaned back in the skycar seat, watching the cityscape of the Citadel blur by as she made her way toward the Presidium Commons. The lights of Zakara Ward faded behind her, replaced by the polished, gleaming spires of the Presidium, where everything appeared calm and ordered. But her thoughts were anything but peaceful. She mentally reviewed what she knew of the Spectres on Martin's trail, running through scenarios and potential weaknesses.

The Turian Spectre, she thought, probably the most predictable of the three. She'd gotten a feel for him during their brief encounter. Direct, no-nonsense, and disciplined—a typical Turian. She and Martin might be able to outmaneuver him if they played their cards right, especially if they used his adherence to protocol against him.

The salarian, however, was another story. Kol was fast, sharp, and seemed to have an insatiable curiosity. He was likely gathering every scrap of information he could find on Martin, piecing together a profile bit by bit. Hopefully, Martin wouldn't underestimate him. Salarians didn't look like much, but they could be lightning-fast in a fight, and she knew firsthand that one wrong move could give them the upper hand. The last thing Martin needed was to give Kol any ammunition for his psychological games.

Then there was the third Spectre. She had no idea who or what they were, or even if they'd made their move yet. Three Spectres… for one human, she thought, shaking her head. How dangerous do they think Martin is? To her, he was just a fractured human being, drifting without clear purpose or motivation. He was reckless, sure, but hardly the kind of threat that warranted a full-scale manhunt. This whole situation felt wrong, like she was missing a piece of a puzzle that refused to fit together.

The skycar touched down in the Presidium parking area, and Athria climbed out, adjusting her coat as she stepped onto the open walkways. The air here felt lighter, quieter than the chaos of the lower wards, with soft fountains and greenery lending a sense of calm. But her mind was far from calm. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night, and she couldn't help but smile slightly, thinking of Martin grumbling about her soaps. The image of him, smelling of roses and citrus instead of his usual rougher scents, made her chuckle quietly. Poor guy.

She wound through the path of turn-offs, taking a few shortcuts until she spotted him: the volus information broker, Barla Von, standing behind a lowered counter that just barely allowed his suited form to be seen.

Athria approached, her demeanor detached but casual, keeping her voice cool as she greeted him. "Barla Von, right?"

Barla turned, the glow from his suit's breathing apparatus flickering as he took a few slow, measured breaths. "Yes… that's me," he said, his deep, labored voice punctuated by the soft hum of his respirator. "And you are… Athria. Asari. Not someone I typically conduct business with."

She crossed her arms, giving him a half-smile. "I'm here on business," she said, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "Not your usual financial work, though. I need some… other services." She leaned in slightly, her tone lowering. "Something that might give me insight into Spectre activity, especially any recent moves related to a human."

The volus tilted his head, a slight, audible shift in his breath betraying his curiosity. "Spectre activity around a human… ah, yes, yes." He took a few shallow breaths, his voice becoming more focused. "The First Human Spectre… Shepard, no doubt. I have records… recent transactions, minor details, compiled data on her activities."

Athria shook her head, correcting him with a slight sigh. "No, not Shepard. This is about a different human. One they've taken an unusual interest in recently." She paused, letting her words hang in the air before she continued. "Martin Winters."

At the mention of the name, Barla Von's breathing deepened, and he paused, his head inclining as if considering her request carefully. Behind that environmental suit, she couldn't read his expression, couldn't get a sense of his reaction. He stood still, processing the name in silence.

"Martin Winters…" he repeated slowly, his respirator hissing softly as he inhaled. "A name that has… come up recently." He paused again, as if weighing how much to share. "Information about him is… limited. Not many know of him, but it's clear he's drawn the Council's attention in a very serious way."

Athria kept her tone light, casual, despite the tension in her chest. "Limited information, huh? I'd expect a Volus of your… resources to have more."

Barla Von let out a rasping chuckle, his suit whirring softly as he shifted. "Yes… well, Spectres aren't in the habit of leaving breadcrumbs, especially not when hunting someone they believe to be dangerous. And this, Winters… well, it's a name that's made its way through certain channels recently, if you catch my meaning. Rumors, whispers… very few facts."

"Rumors and whispers are better than nothing," Athria replied, her voice cool but curious. "So, what do you have?"

The volus seemed to consider her words, taking a few heavy breaths. "Very well… but I don't work for free, Asari. You will need to pay for even the smallest insights. Dangerous knowledge, you understand."

Athria smirked, fishing out a small credit chit and placing it on the counter. "Consider this an investment. I'm willing to pay for answers. What do you know?"

Barla shifted slightly, the lights of his suit casting faint glows on the counter. "Martin Winters… has only recently come under serious scrutiny. Before that, he was more… ghost than man. His past is… difficult to track. Appears out of nowhere around two years ago, yes… and before that? Blank."

Athria frowned, nodding slowly. "And the Council sees him as that much of a threat?"

"Apparently so," Barla replied, his voice slow and deliberate. "The Council doesn't mobilize multiple Spectres for anyone. But there's something unique about this human. Perhaps the combination of Cerberus ties, mercenary work, and rumored hostility toward certain… institutions, shall we say?"

Athria's eyes narrowed. "Cerberus ties. Is that what they're using as an excuse?"

"An excuse, yes… or perhaps a convenient reason," Barla agreed, a note of intrigue in his tone. "He was known to be a Cerberus experiment, yes, but no confirmation that he's still with them. Likely just a loose thread the Council would rather… tie up."

Athria nodded slowly, processing his words. "Anything else? Something that might actually help?"

"Patience, patience," Barla said, his respirator hissing with each word. "There are some… recent developments. Apparently, Spectres are not only after him, but they're wary. This is not a typical manhunt. They're observing him, studying him, curiosity like this could mean… complications."

Athria's lips curved in a wry smile. "So even they don't know what they're dealing with."

"Perhaps," Barla replied, "Or perhaps they know precisely what they're dealing with… a dangerous, unpredictable factor. And a Spectre's role, as you well know, is to eliminate factors that cannot be… controlled."

Athria nodded, though unease settled in her chest. "Anything else?"

Barla hesitated, then added, "It is only a rumor, but… I've heard they suspect Winters may have… sympathizers. Certain groups who see his actions as righteous, or perhaps those who share his distrust of authority. He could have a larger network of support than they realize. If this is true, it would make him a… symbol."

Athria frowned, her mind racing with the implications. A symbol? She'd never thought of Martin that way. He was just Martin, stubborn, defiant, a little broken. But the Council was painting him as something far more dangerous. The realization made her jaw tighten.
"There is… something else as well…" he paused to breath. "There has been movement, type government murmurers… that include his involvement. Strings on strings… so to speak. Nothing substantial… but rather odd. Whether he knows or not… he's involved in a game, a very dangerous one."

"Thank you, Barla," she said, handing him another credit chit as she prepared to leave.

"Always a pleasure, Athria," he replied, his suit hissing in a way that sounded almost smug. "I suggest you tread carefully. You may find yourself walking a very dangerous line."

With that, Athria nodded and turned away, her mind spinning as she walked back through the dim corner of the Presidium Commons, her steps slowing as she headed toward the shopping district, her mind churning through Barla Von's information. It wasn't much, she thought with a sigh, but it certainly opened more questions than it answered.

What did he mean by calling Martin a "symbol"? The idea struck her as odd, almost absurd. Martin wasn't a revolutionary; he barely had time for anything outside of surviving and keeping his head down. Between his mercenary gigs, evading the various factions tracking him, and, well, dying, how could he possibly have been involved with some cause? That had to be pure rumor, something planted by the Council as a fear tactic. Ugh, she thought, grimacing as she recognized the conspiratorial angle. Now she was starting to think like him, the paranoid jackass. She shook her head, amused despite herself.

But the bit about Cerberus was troubling in its own way. The Council had conveniently pinned that connection on him, yet she knew how much Martin hated his past with them. Even the mention of the organization soured his mood, dredging up memories he preferred to keep buried. She could hardly blame him. They'd used him as a test subject, twisted his life into something unrecognizable, even tried to manipulate his mind. And when he resisted, they hunted him, until they deemed him too inconvenient to keep around. Then they discarded him like trash. The last thing he'd ever wanted was to be a pawn in their schemes. Not that he had a choice to begin with.

But the whispers about "government murmurs"… That part stuck in her mind like a splinter. Which government were they talking about? The Alliance? She doubted it. They'd barely seemed to acknowledge Martin's existence, let alone prioritize him as a threat. The asari government? Also unlikely, it wasn't their style to meddle this directly in personal vendettas or Spectre business.

Then her mind settled on the Turians. They'd have a reason. Martin had killed Colonel Dexicolus. That memory stood out vividly. She remembered the Colonel's demeanor, the unusual interest he had taken in Martin, his attempts to… break him, his fixation on handing him over dead to the Alliance. The encounter on the Turian frigate over Elysium had ended in it's destruction, with a fallout that no one in the Initiative seemed to fully understand or address. But there had been quiet repercussions afterward, a few handshakes behind closed doors; she knew both the Alliance and the Turians had taken that incident seriously, though only whispers and faint mentions had reached her ears.

Maybe someone in the Initiative knew more. If the Colonel had been a link, there had to be something left to trace. It was a tenuous lead, but it was better than nothing. Alec Ryder or Jien Garson, either of them might have information about the fallout from that mission, information that could lead her back to the Turians' interest in Martin. They'd have seen the classified reports, they'd know if something more was at play.