Vyras walked closely behind Athria, his hand gripping her cuffed wrists firmly as he led her through the crowded Zakara Ward corridors to the C-Sec station. She was silent, her head held high despite the restraints, but he could sense the defiance simmering under her calm exterior. They arrived at the station, and as he passed by Commander Bailey, he didn't bother exchanging pleasantries; he was entirely focused.
He guided her into the dimly lit interrogation room, where he secured her to the chair, fastening each restraint meticulously. She didn't resist, her eyes fixed on a spot just beyond him, maintaining a stony silence. As he finished, Bailey appeared in the doorway, watching with a calculating look that grated on Vyras.
"Spectre, you might want to take a moment and check in on your team while you're here," Bailey suggested, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Vyras scowled, glaring at Bailey. The human was hiding something, and the smugness in his tone only confirmed it. Without a word, he straightened up and left the room, his jaw clenched tightly as he walked down the hall to the private office they had commandeered. As he stepped in, the scene in front of him made his blood boil.
A medical team was crowded around Nira and Kol, who were both slouched in their chairs, looking as though they had just stumbled out of a battlefield. Nira's face was bruised, her lip split, and a deep gash ran along her cheekbone. Kol's injuries were even worse; blood trickled from a cut above his brow, and his eye was half swollen shut. The medical team worked quickly, but the extent of the damage was clear.
"Get out," Vyras barked at the medics, his voice sharp and cold. They exchanged nervous glances but quickly complied, filing out of the room and leaving the three Spectres alone.
Vyras took a step forward, his gaze shifting between his battered team members, his expression darkening. "Would one of you care to explain," he said, his voice barely controlled, "how the two of you ended up looking like you've been trampled by a krogan battalion?"
Nira, who had been sitting in silence, clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing with anger. She said nothing, though her body language screamed frustration. She cast a venomous look at Kol before turning her gaze back down, visibly restraining herself from saying something she'd regret.
Kol, swallowing hard, winced as he adjusted in his chair, trying to gather himself enough to respond. His voice was strained, each word coming out in a painful rasp. "We… we tried setting up an ambush. In the alley."
Vyras's eyes narrowed, his posture rigid as he listened, the fury in his gaze growing more intense with each word. "An ambush," he repeated slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And how, Kol, did that turn into… this?" He gestured to their battered forms, his eyes shifting to Nira for a brief second before settling back on the Salarian.
Kol took a shallow breath, clearly uncomfortable under Vyras's scrutiny, but he continued. "Winters didn't take the bait. He… he improvised, somehow knew we were waiting for him. Instead of taking the alley, he turned directly towards me in the thoroughfare. Forced me into the open."
"Unbelievable," Vyras muttered, a dangerous edge to his voice as he paced the room, his boots hitting the floor with sharp, angry steps. He turned back to Kol, his fists clenched. "So, you're telling me he confronted you directly—knowing you had support—and still came out on top?"
Kol shifted uncomfortably, wincing as he adjusted his posture. "He's… resourceful. Adapted quickly. Once I fell back, he chased me, forcing me to run. I tried to lure him into another ambush with Nira, but… he was relentless."
Nira's jaw tightened, her hands clenching into fists as she glared at Kol. "Relentless? He was taunting us, Kol. You lost control of the entire situation," she spat, her voice low and trembling with anger. "Instead of leading him into our trap, you let him dictate the entire damn encounter."
Kol shot her a resentful look, his own frustration barely contained. "It was hardly an ideal situation, Nira. Winters wasn't some green mercenary. He's been dodging us and C-Sec for days; he knows how to avoid capture."
Vyras's patience snapped. "You're both Spectres," he said icily, his voice hard and unyielding. "You're supposed to be prepared for anything, not outplayed by a lone human with a bad attitude and a grudge." Nira finally broke her silence, her eyes blazing. "Kol got spooked. He panicked when Winters got too close, and then he called for backup in the open, like an amateur." She shot Kol a scornful look. "He practically invited Winters to toy with us."
Kol stiffened, his face tightening in resentment and pain. "I was hardly panicking," he retorted, though the strain in his voice belied his confidence. "I was analyzing the situation, and Winters forced us into a corner. His unpredictability—"
"Enough," Vyras snapped, his voice slicing through their argument. He folded his arms, looking down at them both with a mixture of disappointment and anger. "You two have managed to turn a high-priority mission into a circus. A single human has made you both look like complete amateurs."
Kol's face flushed, and he looked down, his swollen eye twitching with each breath. Nira's expression darkened, but she remained silent, the rage simmering just below the surface as she stared ahead, unwilling to meet Vyras's gaze.
Vyras exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure. "So, Winters outmaneuvered you, and what happened then?"
Kol swallowed, his voice more subdued. "We tried to hold him off in close quarters, a storefront. I assumed I could wear him down, but he… he was relentless. Fast. Stronger than I'd anticipated."
Nira scoffed. "Stronger? He fought like a madman. And don't act like you weren't completely unprepared for his counterattack, Kol." Her gaze shifted to Vyras, her tone bitter. "He somehow got Kol pinned, smashed him through multiple displays before I could even react. The bastard was enjoying it, taunting us like we were his personal entertainment."
Vyras's lip curled in disdain. "This is what happens when you underestimate your target. Winters may be an annoyance, but he's a capable one. And you both played right into his hands."
Kol's face hardened, but he didn't argue. His gaze dropped, his fingers absently brushing the bruises along his jaw. "He was faster than expected… unnaturally so," he muttered, half to himself. "And then there was his strength. No standard human should have been able to—"
"Enough excuses," Vyras interrupted, his voice harsh. "If he's using enhancements, you should've been prepared. He's not the first human to undergo augmentation, and he certainly won't be the last. You're Spectres. You're supposed to be adaptable, capable of handling any unexpected variables."
Nira's face contorted with anger as she spoke, her tone barely controlled. "He's not just enhanced, Vyras. He's something else. The speed, the strength… he wasn't even winded when he left. It's like he's been trained specifically to outlast anything we throw at him."
Vyras regarded them both with a scathing look. "He's one man. And right now, he's made you both look incompetent. I won't tolerate any more blunders. I want him caught and brought in, or put down if he resists. Do I make myself clear?"
Nira glared at the floor, her pride wounded but her rage still simmering. "Crystal," she replied through gritted teeth. Kol nodded, his expression strained. "Understood."
Vyras studied them both for a moment, his gaze lingering on their bruised and bloodied forms. "You're both in need of recovery," he said coldly, though there was no sympathy in his tone. "But rest assured, this is your last chance. Winters will not make fools of us again. The next time you confront him, you bring him down. No mistakes. No more excuses."
As he turned to leave the room, he cast a final, withering glance over his shoulder. "Remember," he said, his tone sharp and unforgiving, "if you fail again, I'll handle Winters myself. And I promise you, I won't be nearly as forgiving as he was."
"Now I have to explain this to the councilor."
He left them in the silence, his anger simmering as he made his way down the corridor.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Athria sat in the interrogation room, her wrists bound to the cold metal table in front of her. The single overhead light cast harsh shadows around her, the rest of the room swallowed in darkness. How stereotypical, she thought with a flicker of irritation. It was all so predictable, the two-way mirror, the oppressive silence, the looming threat. She kept her gaze fixed forward, not acknowledging the man standing against the wall. Commander Bailey was watching her, though she felt no malice from him, only a wary distance, a kind of resigned professionalism.
Bailey cleared his throat, shifting his stance. "I don't envy you, ma'am," he said, his voice carrying a note of almost reluctant sympathy. Athria didn't respond, didn't even look his way. She kept her face stoic, her eyes narrowed ahead, waiting.
Bailey exhaled, crossing his arms. "The Spectre's going to march back in here with the kind of fury that could stall a krogan," he remarked. "Why's that?" she asked, her tone steady, almost indifferent.
"Your friend just beat the hell out of the other two Spectres," Bailey replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "They look like they got into a brawl with a whole damn krogan squad." Athria allowed herself a slight, proud smirk. "Yeah, I've seen him fight worse," she said, the trace of a smile lingering on her lips. Bailey raised an eyebrow. "What can be worse than fighting a couple of Spectres?"
Without missing a beat and still looking straight ahead, she replied, "He killed a krogan with his bare hands." Her voice was casual, almost dismissive, as though recounting a routine feat.
Bailey was silent, his face a mix of disbelief and grudging admiration. But before he could respond, the door slid open with a hiss, and Vyras stormed in, his movements sharper than usual, his body language practically radiating frustration. He sat down across from her with a kind of controlled aggression, slamming his elbow onto the table and pointing a finger in her direction as he sat. Athria could feel the intensity of his gaze, his frustration a force across the table.
"Asari," Vyras began, his tone lethal, "you will tell me everything about this human." His hand moved down to his side, producing a heavy Carnifex pistol, which he placed deliberately on the table between them. His fingers tapped the metal surface, his voice darkening. "Or there will be… dire consequences."
Athria didn't miss a beat, her gaze flicking to the pistol but never wavering. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "What's the matter, Spectre? Did your team get roughed up by a little old human?" Her voice was laced with mockery, her defiance bright and unyielding.
In an instant, Vyras's patience snapped. He shot up from his seat, grabbing the pistol, and stalked over to her side of the table with quick, predatory movements. The suddenness of it made Athria blink, though she didn't flinch as he leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath and the controlled fury radiating from him.
Bailey shifted, his body tensing, his stance no longer casual as he observed the exchange.
Vyras's mandibles flared slightly, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You… will keep that smart mouth of yours shut, Asari, or I'll start pulling you apart piece by piece."
He grabbed her hand, pressing it flat against the table, his grip uncomfortably tight. The cold barrel of his pistol pressed into her knuckles, and his finger danced dangerously over the trigger. Athria could feel the hard metal digging into her skin, but she refused to let any hint of fear show.
"Are you really that afraid of him, Vyras?" she taunted, despite the proximity of the weapon. "One human, and you're ready to snap."
Vyras's grip tightened, his mandibles twitching as he brought his face even closer to hers, his voice a low, menacing hiss. "This isn't about fear, Kyrsan. It's about justice. About stopping a rogue before he does any more damage."
"Justice?" Athria scoffed. "Seems more like ego to me. A little bruised pride because he hasn't fallen in line…"
Vyras's gaze turned colder, and his finger tapped the trigger of the pistol against her hand, his anger barely restrained. "You think you know him, don't you?" he said, his voice almost a whisper. "You think that your loyalty to this… this violent, unstable human will protect you."
Athria met his stare without flinching, her expression unyielding. "I know him better than you ever will, Vyras. He's been through more than you could imagine, and he doesn't answer to anyone, not even me."
Vyras's eyes flashed with fury, his grip on her hand tightening as he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. "That 'unstable human' is a killer, a threat to the very peace we're sworn to protect. If you're shielding him, then you're just as complicit."
She let out a bitter laugh, her tone defiant. "Complicit in what? In not bowing to you? In resisting the arbitrary lines you drew in the sand? He doesn't even know why you're after him… no one actually does." Vyras slammed the barrel of the pistol harder against her hand, making her wince involuntarily as he leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "You're playing a dangerous game, Asari. You have no idea what's at stake here."
Bailey cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Spectre, maybe it's best to take a step back." Vyras barely spared him a glance, his focus still locked onto Athria. "If you don't cooperate," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I will make sure your punishment is swift and final."
Athria's smirk didn't falter. "Then pull the trigger, Vyras," she challenged, her tone mocking. "Because I'm not telling you a damn thing." Athria's heart pounded, though she kept her face composed, defiant. Vyras loomed over her, the barrel of his pistol pressing coldly into her hand, his eyes blazing with a fury that left no room for mercy. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the sound of her measured breaths, her gaze locked with his.
Somewhere outside, the unmistakable sound of gunfire and explosives shattered the quiet. Vyras's head snapped toward the door, and Athria's gaze followed, both of them momentarily distracted as the muffled blasts of automatic fire grew louder, accompanied by the distant shouts of officers scrambling in the corridor. The rumbling of footsteps echoed through the station, and Bailey shifted uncomfortably, his stance tensing as the distant cacophony intensified.
Before Athria could react, the ground shuddered violently as a massive explosion shook the station, the walls rattling as dust drifted down from the ceiling tiles. The lights flickered, plunging them into brief darkness before stabilizing. Alarms blared overhead, the room bathed in the flashing red glow of emergency lights.
Vyras's attention wavered, his focus torn as he processed the commotion outside. He shot a venomous look at Athria, but before he could say anything, the door burst open, a C-Sec officer rushing in, his face pale and his voice frantic. "Commander Bailey!" he shouted, his eyes darting around the room as he registered the tension between the occupants. "The station is under attack! We're… we're facing heavy fire all over the area!"
Bailey's eyes widened in shock, but he quickly pulled himself together, the calm authority of a seasoned officer taking over. "What in the hell…" he muttered, then barked out orders. "Secure the station perimeter, divert all personnel to the main access corridors! Lock down all entrances and clear civilians from the surrounding sectors!"
The officer nodded, his face still tense, and quickly turned to leave, shouting orders as he ran down the hall. Bailey shot a quick glance at Athria, a trace of worry flickering in his eyes before he turned to Vyras. "I'll take all available personnel to contain this," he said firmly. "If you need backup, Spectre, call for it. We don't have time to waste."
Vyras gave him a terse nod, barely acknowledging the human as he left, taking the remaining officers with him, their hurried footsteps echoing in the distance as the sounds of chaos outside grew louder. The blaring of gunfire was punctuated by smaller explosions, the shouts and frantic voices of C-Sec officers filling the air as they coordinated a response.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Athria's mouth as she watched Bailey and his officers depart. Martin, she thought, her pulse quickening as she sat there. If he was behind this, he'd certainly found a way to make a grand entrance.
The flicker of amusement didn't go unnoticed. Vyras's gaze snapped back to her, his mandibles flaring as his expression darkened with fury. Without warning, he backhanded her across the face, his armored hand striking her cheek with brutal force. Pain exploded across her skin, her head snapping to the side as the taste of blood filled her mouth. She gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction as she felt the sharp sting bloom across her face.
"Think this is funny?" he hissed, "Your friend's desperation will cost you both."
Outside, another explosion rocked the building, this one so close that Athria felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. The lights flickered again, the shadows cast by the emergency lights dancing across Vyras's enraged face as he leaned in, his hand gripping her arm with bruising force. "You won't get out of this, Athria," he sneered. "Neither of you will."
A fresh wave of gunfire erupted just beyond the walls, followed by a flash of light through the narrow slit in the interrogation room's window. Vyras's gaze darted toward the sound, his posture shifting as he tried to gauge the situation, his attention torn between her and the chaos unfolding outside.
The door to the room opened, and Vyras whipped his head around, his pistol raised, ready to confront whoever entered. But as the figure stepped inside, a flicker of surprise flashed in Vyras's eyes, quickly replaced by fury. There, in the doorway, stood Martin.
He was battered, blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow, his clothes torn and stained. His eyes, however, were sharp and unyielding, filled with a lethal determination that made Athria's heart pound. He locked his gaze onto Vyras, his expression was dark the faintest smirk tugging at his bloodied lips as he took a step forward.
The two men stared each other down, Martin squared his shoulders, his stance daring Vyras to make the first move. Athria felt a surge of relief mixed with dread, her pulse racing as she took in the sight of him. Whatever came next, she knew it wouldn't be simple.
Athria watched as Martin lunged forward, his movement a blur as he closed the distance between himself and Vyras. The Spectre's pistol fired, the round sparking off Martin's kinetic barriers with a flash, but Martin didn't slow down. Athria quickly summoned her biotics, propelling herself out of the way as Martin barreled into Vyras, driving his shoulder hard into the Spectre's chest. The force of the impact slammed Vyras back into the wall, the metal creaking under the strain.
Before Vyras could react, Martin's hand shot out, grabbing him by the front of his armor. In one fluid motion, Martin threw him to the ground, his movements precise and brutal. Without hesitation, Martin brought his fists down, each punch landing with a sickening impact as Vyras struggled to shield himself. The Spectre's resistance quickly faded, his movements slowing with each hit until he slumped, unconscious and unmoving, his face bloodied and bruised.
Breathing heavily, Martin turned to her, his eyes hard but his movements quick and deliberate as he knelt to undo her restraints. He started with her legs, the metal cuffs clinking as they released, then moved to her wrists, his hands steady despite the urgency in his movements.
"Come on," he muttered, standing up and motioning for her to follow him. "The fireworks won't last much longer." She pushed herself to her feet, rubbing her wrists as she tried to keep up with him. "Fireworks?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Martin led her out of the interrogation room, weaving through the empty corridors of the station as the sounds of explosions reverberated through the walls. They slipped through a side exit, into an alley, and then he guided her up a narrow metal staircase that led to the rooftop.
As they stepped onto the rooftop, Athria's eyes widened, taking in the sight before her. In the distance, hundreds of fireworks burst across the sky, the explosions of color illuminating the city below. Smoke and sparks filled the air, the light reflecting off the glass and metal of the buildings around them, casting a surreal glow over the scene.
She glanced over at Martin, her disbelief morphing into reluctant admiration. "Where the hell did you get those?"
Martin grinned, climbing into the skycar that was parked on the rooftop. "Took me a few hours, but I stole them from some vendor, something about Elcor day? But I paid a bunch of kids to set them off for me. Nothing says chaos like a contained mass of a Firework show in their back yard, right?"
Athria shook her head, climbing into the passenger seat. "You're insane," she muttered, buckling herself in as he powered up the skycar. As they lifted off, Martin shot her a sideways grin. "Did you think I had an army for this shit?"
She rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. "You might as well have," she replied, watching as the lights from the fireworks flickered against the windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the interior of the car as they sped off into the night.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Martin gripped the controls of the skycar tightly, his fingers aching as he finally allowed himself to relax just a little, his foot steady on the accelerator as they sped through the ward. He leaned back against the seat, the adrenaline beginning to fade, and with it, the pain from the blows and bruises that covered his body. Every inch of him hurt, the ache settling deep into his bones, but here in the relative safety of the skycar, he allowed himself to sink into the discomfort, breathing through it.
Athria turned to him, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the direction they were heading. "Are you taking us to the docks?" she asked, a note of apprehension in her voice.
"Yeah," Martin replied, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the chance to shut out the world, if only for a second. "We need to get off this damn station."
"Martin, we can't do that!" she protested, her voice urgent. "There are leads here we have to follow. We're closer than ever to finding out what's going on. Running now would mean losing all of it."
Martin opened his eyes, exhaling sharply. "Do you know what's going to happen after all this?" he snapped, barely keeping his frustration in check. "I just beat the hell out of three Spectres, set off fireworks that triggered a C-Sec lockdown, and broke you out of custody. They're going to hunt me down and string me up regardless. Staying here just gives them an easier target."
Athria's hand moved to his arm, her grip firm and reassuring as she looked at him, her expression fierce. "No, we can still do this," she insisted. "There's something going on here, something bigger than we thought. It's connected to the Colonel, to the Turian government. I have some of the information on my omni-tool. If we can just lay low for a while, we can piece it all together and clear your name. I know we can."
Martin let his head roll to the side, looking at her. In her eyes, he saw something he hadn't seen before: a pleading determination, a fire that made her words sound less like optimism and more like conviction. She wasn't just saying this to convince him; she truly believed it. The sight of that raw certainty stirred something in him, something beyond the relentless urge to run, to survive. He swore under his breath, knowing he was getting roped into more trouble than he could handle—but damned if he could say no.
"Shit," he muttered, giving her a long, resigned look before turning the skycar around, banking sharply in a new direction. "Fine," he grumbled. "I think I know of a place we can lay low for a while. Somewhere quiet, out of the way."
Athria's shoulders relaxed slightly as he adjusted their course, relief flickering across her face. She glanced at him, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you," she said quietly, her tone more genuine than he'd heard from her in a long time.
Martin exhaled, his gaze fixed on the skyline as they wove through the maze of towering buildings, gradually making their way to a place he didn't think he would be returning to. What other choice did he have? He didn't have any better ideas than to run, but if she believed she could uncover the truth, he figured he owed her,and maybe himself, the chance to see this through. Besides, they couldn't work alone anymore. They needed each other now, whether he liked it or not.
He clenched his jaw, glancing sidelong at her. Damn woman.
