Martin sat in the passenger seat of the skycar, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the crowded corridors of the Citadel. His mind churned, a mess of broken thoughts and half-formed feelings, boiling over with bitterness and frustration. The damn artifact. That damn artifact. The Turians couldn't just leave it alone. Even after everything he'd done, after everything he'd given up to destroy it, here it was, back in their hands, its dark influence looming like a shadow. The thought alone made his blood run hot with anger.

He had given up everything for that one victory on the cliffside, had thrown his life, any chance at peace, and every shred of happiness he might've had to see it gone. His life was supposed to end there. That had been his purpose, the meaning to all the pain, all the damn struggle. Destroy the artifact. Kill the Colonel. Die with whatever twisted honor he had left. And now… it was all meaningless. As if his sacrifices were nothing more than a joke, a cruel trick played by fate.

A hollow bitterness filled him. It was like life itself had conspired to keep him here, haunting him with the fragments of the past he thought he'd burned away. Maybe there was unfinished business after all, some foul note that needed correcting in the discordant symphony of this screwed-up galaxy. If the artifact was behind all this chaos… if it held even the faintest connection to what the Spectres were doing, then it would be the cliff he would die on. Again, if he had to.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Athria at first as she climbed into the pilot's seat. She settled in and paused, looking at him. Her gaze lingered, soft yet piercing, studying him with a depth that made him feel like she could see right through to the dark corners of his mind.

He turned, meeting her eyes, and she took in the hard set of his jaw, the quiet intensity lurking behind his expression. "I don't like that look…" she said softly, worry threading through her voice.

Martin managed a faint smirk, more of a grim acknowledgment than any real humor. "Probably shouldn't," he replied, his tone cold but resolute. He didn't have the words to explain what he felt, but he could see in her eyes that she understood enough. She didn't look away, and for a moment, her presence alone was enough to tether him back to reality.

But as he stared back, he knew he was already somewhere else. He was back on that cliff, and this time, he wouldn't stop until everything was ash.

"""""""""""

Athria guided the skycar up and away from the residential zone, the city lights of the Citadel a blur beneath them as she set their course. Martin glanced over at her, seeing the exhaustion cover over her face. But the fire of anger still simmered beneath his own skin, a restless, gnawing itch. But seeing her tired made him pause.

He sighed deeply, trying to rein in his fury, letting his head rest against his hand on the armrest. His mind kept circling back to one thing: The Citadel Science and Technology Division. The artifact itself might not be there, but any study or analysis the Turians conducted would give them clues about what exactly they were dealing with. Or at least, that's what he hoped. But right now… even he could feel it. They both needed a reprieve. A moment to breathe.

"We need rest," he said quietly, almost reluctantly. "Should look for somewhere to reset."

Athria turned to him, an eyebrow raised, a faint note of surprise in her expression. "I thought you'd want to rush off and hunt this thing down."

Martin let out a bitter sigh, leaning back against the seat, and gave a tired shrug. "Yeah, I want to," he admitted, staring out at the cityscape ahead of them. "But you're tired. And I need to clear my head before I go off and do something stupid."

There was a pause as she looked at him, her gaze softening slightly as she nodded, guiding the skycar toward a quieter area. Martin shut his eyes, letting himself drift for just a moment, he had time to think. Plan. Options to run through.

As they moved through the busy side of the ward, the docks bustled with tourists, some carrying bags, others gawking at the sights of the Citadel. Martin felt the tension ease, if only slightly, watching the crowds ebb and flow like a river of anonymity. Athria navigated them through the masses, until she found a rest area off the main path, they paid their fare and walked down the hall to a small sleep pod, where they would rest for the night. They stopped in front of the small space. He could tell by the way her eyes lingered on him that she intended them to share the space. No doubt she was ensuring he didn't pull one of his midnight escapes. Couldn't blame her for that, it wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

They slid into the pod, Martin crammed against the wall with Athria wedging herself beside him. She reached up and slid the metal privacy door shut, plunging them into a small cocoon of darkness and near-silence, only the low hum of an air vent circulating fresh air above them.

"You had to get the smallest one, didn't you?" he muttered, shifting awkwardly as he tried to make room.

"Well, it's not like we have a bunch of credits left," she retorted. "We can't use our chits without leaving a trail, so don't blame me." She shot him an exasperated look as they shifted uncomfortably beside each other, neither quite finding the right position.

Finally, with a small huff, she grabbed him, pushing him down flat onto his back, half throwing herself over him as she maneuvered his arm under her head. "Stay still for once in your life," she said, a smirk playing at her lips as she settled in, resting her head against his.

Martin lay still, his body tense for a moment as he tried to focus on something, anything that wasn't her. He felt her breathing brush against the side of his neck, catching the faint scent of roses, filling the cramped pod with a softness that didn't belong in his line of work. His gaze drifted up to the ceiling, only a foot or so above him, as he tried to channel his thoughts to the Spears of Palaven, the artifact, and what came next. But her presence, warm and insistent, was a distraction he couldn't shake.

She shifted slightly, sliding up until her arm was draped over him, fingers making small circles in his hair as her other hand hovered near the wound on his chest. Her eyes had closed, a faint smile resting on her face, serene in a way that almost made him want to close his own eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her voice soft but knowing. "I can tell you're restless."

"Nothing," he replied, not quite meeting her gaze. "Just… trying to piece things together."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" she said. "These Spears of Palaven are pulling strings, making a power move. If the artifact's involved, we'll handle it." She sounded confident, like the conclusion was as clear as the lines on her palm.

"No, that's not what I meant," Martin said, frowning as he let his thoughts wander back to Kol's apartment.

"What, then?" Her voice had softened, dropping to a low, quiet tone that sent a strange thrill down his spine. Goosebumps broke out along his neck, and he cursed himself internally for reacting.

"The music," he said slowly. "In Kol's apartment. The song was on repeat, and it wasn't just any song. It's… obscure. Almost no one outside Earth would know it. So why was it playing?"

Athria let out a slow breath, brushing against his forehead. "Maybe he was studying you," she suggested, her voice still soft, like a whisper meant only for him. "Kind of like method acting, maybe?"

Martin shook his head, feeling the pieces still sliding around without falling into place. "No, it had to be a message. But I don't understand how they'd have known…."

She let out a small laugh, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "Stop overthinking," she chided gently, settling back into the pillow. "We'll find something soon, so for now, get some sleep. Your two brain cells are going to burst if you keep this up."

He huffed a small laugh, but her words took root, pulling him out of his tangled thoughts. She was right—he needed rest if he was going to keep his head clear. For once, he closed his eyes, letting her warmth seep into his skin, as her stilled against his face, her breathing lulling him as he drifted into a quiet, tentative sleep.

"""""""""""

Martin sat beside Athria on a bench in the bustling ward, both of them still feeling the lingering aches but grateful for the rest they'd managed to steal. The crowd around moved with a slow urgency, giving them a sense of anonymity for once, a brief reprieve from the prying eyes that usually followed the. As they leaned against a bench, his mind buzzed with possible next moves, his thoughts flicking back to the artifact and the twisted paths leading them deeper into whatever this was.

He glanced over at Athria, caught off guard by the subtle change in her demeanor. Today, there was something… different. It wasn't just her usual sharp focus. There was a lightness, a strange confidence that radiated from her, an air of calm that felt almost mythical. She looked like something out of place in this metallic, artificial world, a figure that belonged on some ancient, unspoiled planet. He couldn't help but stare, a little in awe.

Just then, his omni-tool blinked, pulling him from the moment. Athria noticed, and he saw a hint of irritation flash across her face, like the interruption had shattered something delicate. He sighed, hating that it had ruined her expression, but duty—or something like it—called. He flipped open the message, his eyes scanning the lines of text. Once. Twice. Just to be sure.

"Who is it?" Athria asked, her tone casual but carrying that undercurrent of curiosity he'd come to recognize.

He looked up at her, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "Councilors," he replied calmly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Which one, Martin?"

He chuckled, glancing back at the text. "Human Councilor, at the embassies. Looks like he finally read my note."

"What?" Athria blinked, half-bewildered. "You mean you didn't tell him to screw off?"

He laughed, standing up and offering her a hand. She took it, her smile breaking through as she slid her fingers gently into his, letting him help her up. "Not quite," he said with a grin. "I believe my exact words were, 'Call this number, assholes,' and I drew a nice little human anarchy symbol for good measure."

She shook her head, amused, her voice laced with mock disapproval. "You're such an ass. Can't just ask for help, can you? Always has to be a power play."

He shrugged, letting go of her hand as they started walking, his tone deliberately nonchalant. "Someone's gotta keep the politicians on their toes," he said, smirking. "The Spectres sure as hell aren't doing it."

As they made their way to the embassies, a small part of him wondered if this meeting would actually lead somewhere or just wind up as another brick wall. But he had his own agenda, and this Councilor might just be the key to prying open the lock. Or lead him into a trap… the idea wasn't lost on him.

Martin's pulse quickened as they entered the embassies, his senses on high alert. His eyes darted around, scanning for any signs of Vyras or Nira. He knew better than to assume this meeting was just a straightforward exchange. The Councilors could easily be drawing him in, baiting him under the guise of conversation. But he wasn't about to let himself be caught in their game without a fight.

As they walked, Athria reached for his hand. He looked at her, his expression softening as he met her gaze. She gave him a look that balanced both confidence and caution. "We need to be gentle about this," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the ambient noise. "No antics. But… if this is a trap, forget everything I said."

A half-smirk played at his lips. "I can live with that."

She let go of his hand as they reached the office door, which slid shut behind them with a quiet hiss, sealing them in the councilors' space.

In the room, two figures stood in front of them. He recognized the human—a memory of the man's voice barking his condemnations at him in the embassy resurfaced in his mind. Udina had climbed the political ladder from ambassador to councilor, apparently without losing his knack for scheming it seemed. Standing beside him was what he assumed was the Asari councilor, her posture calm and composed, as if she'd spent a lifetime weathering storms with poise alone.

Martin's instincts sharpened as he took them in, his voice slipping into a sarcastic edge. "Looks like someone got the promotion he wanted," he muttered to Udina, unable to resist the jab. Athria's elbow nudged him lightly, a silent reminder to keep his usual defiance in check.

Udina observed him with an assessing gaze, his expression taut. "Martin Winters," he said after a pause, his tone barely concealing his surprise. "This is… slightly unexpected."

The Asari councilor stepped forward, her eyes moving between him and Athria. "I am Councilor Tevos," she said with a calm authority. Her gaze lingered on Athria, a slight crease forming between her brows. "And you… are you with him?"

Athria nodded confidently. "Athria Kyrsan." Her tone was assertive, though she must have felt Tevos's curiosity prying just below the surface.

Tevos's gaze lingered a beat longer before she continued. "This meeting concerns the investigation into your… activities, Martin," she said carefully. "We've taken an interest in the situation."

Udina spoke up, his voice brusque. "I'd heard rumors about who the Turians were looking for, but I wasn't sure they held any truth until I found your… note." His mouth twisted in distaste, but Athria only rolled her eyes at Martin, who offered a nonchalant shrug in response.

"Guess subtlety isn't my strength," Martin said dryly. "Well are looking into the matter as precaution, it's not everyday that these kinds of operations happen on the Citadel. Especially the way they are." Tevos explained.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied the councilors. "Do councilors often deploy Spectres without informing each other?" He asked, his tone almost casual.

Tevos's expression didn't change. "It's rare, but it does happen. Especially when it comes to sensitive Internal government operations," she replied smoothly.

He tilted his head, pressing further. "So you don't know?"

Tevos shook her head, her gaze steady. "We don't. We would like to understand, if you two know anything about the situation?"

Athria took this as her cue. "Some information, yes, The information we've gathered points to a Turian group, calling themselves the Spears of Palaven," she explained. "Their plans seem… ambitious. They're consolidating power, and their interest in Martin appears to be a part of that. Though we don't fully understand the extent of their goals just yet."

Martin nodded, adding, "We think they are attempting to promote some chaos, using me to trigger something big here on the Citadel, a push for some kind of power play, though I don't have direct proof or any real motivations why."

Udina's eyes narrowed, suspicion clear on his face. "And where did you get this information?"

Martin's expression remained neutral. "The Citadel Archives."

The councilors exchanged a glance, Tevos's expression betraying nothing but a faint shift in focus. "So, you broke into the Archives?" she asked, her tone eerily calm.

He held back a smirk, the memory of the break-in still fresh. "I did. With the help of a Salarian Spectre, Kol."

Athria jumped in. "Kol's dead now, they made sure of that much " she said bluntly, her voice carrying a tinge of frustration as if his death had left them at a loss.

Tevos seemed to digest their information, but Martin continued before they could interrupt. "And there's more," he said, his tone darkening. "The Turians recovered an artifact on Elysium, something that's capable of… well, it's unlike anything you've seen. Let's just say it's powerful enough to be a deciding factor in this game, and it's back in Turian hands."

The councilors looked genuinely startled for the first time, and Martin allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at their reaction. Whatever schemes they'd been anticipating, this had not been one of them.

Tevos's composure cracked slightly as she absorbed the implications. "What exactly does this artifact… do?" she asked cautiously, her voice laced with unspoken dread.

"It's capable of manipulating… well, people," Martin replied, keeping his description vague. "It can amplify certain traits in individuals—aggression, loyalty, fanaticism. Even read and control minds. Imagine what someone could do with that level of control."

Udina's brow furrowed, and for the first time, he looked almost rattled. "And you're saying the Turians have weaponized it?"

"Maybe. Or it could be actively controlling them for its own agenda," Martin answered.

Tevos and Udina exchanged a glance, then looked back at them.

Martin watched the councilors' faces carefully, the shock and unease simmering just beneath their guarded expressions. For once, he'd rattled them. Tevos's mask of calm had slipped, if only by a fraction, and Udina's usual arrogance was tainted with a hint of genuine concern. For the first time, he felt like they might actually understand the stakes he was dealing with.

"So, you're saying this artifact could... control minds?" Udina's voice was tight, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Martin had just described.

"Control is putting it lightly," Martin replied, his tone edged with dark conviction. "It's not just puppeteering. It's altering who you are, erasing the lines between choice and compulsion. This thing turns you into something you weren't meant to be."

Tevos's gaze hardened, her posture straightening as she processed his words. "If what you're saying is true, Martin, and this weapon is in Turian hands… the implications are profound. It could destabilize the Citadel, the Council itself." She paused, glancing at Udina as if silently weighing her next words. "But let's be clear. This is still only speculation. You have no direct evidence linking this artifact to the Turians' current actions."

Martin held her gaze, unflinching. "Not yet," he admitted, feeling the frustration of that truth claw at him. "But I'm not here to gamble. You think I would walk in here, risk myself and Athria, if I didn't know what I was talking about?"

Athria stepped forward, her voice steady but edged with urgency. "We might not have hard proof, but we've connected enough dots to know something's happening. The Spears of Palaven, whoever they are, they're not just another faction. They're organized, they're ambitious, and they're making moves that only make sense if they have a weapon like this on their side."

Udina's brow furrowed deeply, his fingers drumming on the desk. "So, let's say we believe you. Let's assume this Spear of Palaven faction is real, and they're wielding this... artifact. What exactly do you propose we do?"

Martin almost laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Oh, I have no doubt you'll have your agents crawling through every inch of the Citadel soon enough. But if you want my advice, we need to keep this quiet. If word gets out, panic spreads—and the Turians? They're just going to dig their heels in deeper."

Tevos nodded, though her expression remained conflicted. "So you're saying… we need to play along?"

"For now, yes," Athria interjected, her gaze unwavering. "We keep this contained. Martin and I will continue investigating, but we need you two to keep your agents off our backs. Let us do this without interference."

The councilors exchanged another look, a silent conversation passing between them. Martin watched them, his jaw set, his patience wearing thin. The councilors had always been politicians at heart, playing games with lives from behind their high, guarded walls. He was asking them to step into a war that would require them to get their hands dirty—something he doubted either of them had done in a long time.

Finally, Udina broke the silence. "Fine," he said, though his tone was begrudging. "We'll grant you the latitude to investigate, under the condition that we're kept informed. We can't afford any missteps here. If things escalate, we need to be prepared."

Martin couldn't help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'm all about keeping you informed," he said, though the bite in his tone made it clear he didn't trust them in the slightest.

"We might need special access to get around a bit, nothing much but we may need to prod around a bit." Martin tried saying calmly.

Tevos and Udina looked at each other but only for a moment. "We will see what we can do." Udina said exasperatedly.

Tevos's gaze narrowed, and she took a measured step toward him. "Just remember, Martin, if you cross any lines, there will be consequences. We'll allow you this freedom, but only as long as it serves the greater good."

He met her gaze evenly, unyielding. "Trust me, Councilor, I'm well aware of the lines."

Athria placed a hand on his arm, grounding him before he could say anything more. "Thank you, Councilors. We won't waste this chance."

They nodded, Tevos still looking as if she might reconsider at any second. Martin offered a curt nod in return, then turned, his eyes meeting Athria's as they made their way to the exit. The doors slid shut behind them, sealing them back into the busy halls of the embassies.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Martin let out a long breath. "I hate politicians," he muttered. Athria gave him a sidelong look, half-amused. "Well, you handled it better than I expected," she said, her voice teasing but warm. "No explosions, no fistfights."

He smirked, unable to resist the jab. "The day's still young."