Relationships. They're just... masks we wear. We fumble around, putting on a face, putting on words, just to escape that nagging emptiness clawing at our insides. Two people clinging to each other, filling the silence with empty promises, meaningless touches, pretending there's something deeper there. But deep down? They're tools, a transaction of needs, a way to keep ourselves from realizing how small we are, how alone we really are. Fleeting, fragile things, here today, gone tomorrow, leaving nothing but a taste of something you can't quite remember. Superficial. Just another distraction from the void.
But... damn her, that damned princess. That one... Valkyrie. She's different, in a way that cuts through all that hollow noise. When she looks at me… no, through me, she doesn't see the scars or the mess. She sees what's buried, past the broken, into a place even I thought I'd buried. She moves like she knows, like she's seen it all before, like she has some ancient strength woven into her bones. A goddess walking among ruins. She doesn't just stand beside me; she stands for me, against everything this world throws. Even when I push her away, even when I tell her it's all pointless, she stays, relentless, refusing to let me drown.
She's there, like some divine storm-caller, calming the chaos I've dragged around with me for as long as I can remember. That gaze, that voice, all of it... it pierces right through everything I've spent years building. And it doesn't make sense. I don't deserve it. Don't deserve her faith, her loyalty, the way she fights for me when I can't even fight for myself. But she's there, that Valkyrie, in spite of all logic, in spite of my own damned self. But, I'll follow her, carry her if I need to, kill, destroy, bear the weight of existence for her. It's what she deserves.
""""""""""""
Vyras strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Citadel alongside Nira, the Science and Technology Division HQ looming ahead. He moved with his usual focused pace, every step calculated, but his gaze flicked toward Nira, catching the self-satisfied smirk on her face. For a Spectre, she was almost disturbingly proud, practically radiating an air of violent satisfaction.
"So," he began, his voice cool and unhurried, "our Salarian friend—terminated, I assume?"
Nira's smirk widened, and she scoffed lightly, her eyes glittering with dark pride. "Oh, he's dead all right," she said, almost boasting. "Gave me a nice little chase, but nothing I couldn't handle. I didn't think I'd enjoy taking him down quite that much," she added, rolling her shoulders back with an almost exaggerated satisfaction.
Vyras arched an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd be more reserved, considering he was one of us."
"Please," Nira sneered, dismissing the notion with a wave. "Kol was a coward, jumping ship to help that… human. Whatever loyalty he had, he threw it away. I was more than happy to put an end to that little chapter."
Vyras nodded slowly, her enthusiasm bordering on something he found mildly distasteful. He let her words settle before he spoke again, focusing his gaze forward as they approached the high-security entrance. "Satisfied as you are, Nira, we're not done yet. Kol's out of the way, yes, but Winters isn't our target."
Nira's smug expression faltered slightly, curiosity slipping through her fierce exterior. "So what's next, then? If it's not the human, then who are we after?"
"We're going after her," Vyras replied, his voice low and deliberate. "The Asari. Winters may be a thorn, but she's the real weak link. The one pulling him toward something more… resolute. Without her, he'll unravel, make mistakes, lose direction."
Nira let out a dark laugh. "You think she's the one keeping him on course? I'd have thought he was stubborn enough on his own."
"Stubborn, yes," Vyras acknowledged, "but her presence fuels him, grounds him. Take her out, and you strip him of any restraint. He'll be left with nothing but fury. In that state, he'll be easy to control—or destroy."
Nira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she mulled over his words. "So, we're going after her first. Should be simple enough."
Vyras gave her a sharp look. "Do not underestimate her, Nira. She's proven resourceful, even against you." Her face twisted slightly at the mention. "Winters is keeping her close for a reason. We need to be swift and decisive, catch them off guard."
"And then?" Nira asked, an edge of eagerness slipping into her voice. "Once we have her, what's the plan for Winters?"
Vyras' face tightened slightly. "We don't kill him. That's not our decision to make—not yet." He met her eyes, a hint of warning in his tone. "He has a role to play. Our orders are clear: keep him alive until we're told otherwise. He's… useful."
Nira scoffed, but nodded, her prideful demeanor tempered by Vyras's warning. "Fine," she said, though her tone was laced with irritation. "But once this is over, I hope we're done with him. Playing games with a human is getting tedious."
Vyras offered a thin, humorless smile. "Soon enough, Nira. But first, we make our move."
"""""""""""""""
Martin followed Athria into the Citadel Science and Technology Division headquarters, his gaze flicking over the sterile, imposing interior. They'd barely managed to get through security. After enough back-and-forth, calls, and flashing of credentials, someone higher up had approved them, reluctantly waving them inside with a warning look. But the tension didn't dissipate; security still eyed him warily from a distance, as if he might turn and pull something unpredictable any second.
They stepped further inside, and Martin took in the clinical, labyrinthine layout. The complex was a maze of laboratories encased in reinforced glass, decontamination chambers sealing each entry point. Inside these chambers, scientists donned in hazmat suits moved cautiously between research stations, transferring samples and inspecting panels lined with blinking lights. Every corner seemed devoted to some specific area of study, and every lab was filled with diagnostic screens, containment units, and arrays of testing equipment that looked more suited for deep-space exploration than anything else. The hum of machinery combined with the quiet murmurs of scientists added a low, omnipresent buzz to the air.
Martin noted every detail: labs filled with biotic containment fields, equipment arrays blinking with unfamiliar technology, and walls covered in digitized interfaces, all of it lit by clinical, bluish light that somehow managed to make everything feel colder, as if he were in the heart of some giant, pristine machine.
He looked over at Athria, who was leading the way confidently, moving through the corridors as if she belonged here. She held herself with a renewed purpose, shoulders back, chin up, her steps quick and sure. It suited her, he thought, watching the way she moved with a slight smirk. There was a quiet command in her presence, something undeniably striking, and as his gaze drifted… well, he didn't mind watching her from this angle either.
After a few minutes, they arrived at the office they were searching for. The door bore the nameplate "Dr. T'Serra Relan," the title and name crisply etched in silver letters. The door stood slightly ajar, offering a glimpse of the Asari scientist inside, hunched over a screen, focused and unaware of their presence.
Athria took the lead, stepping confidently through the open door, and Martin followed, letting the weight of the moment settle. He knew what they needed here, and he knew that whatever they learned, it was bound to make this whole tangled mess of intrigue, danger, and betrayal even more complicated.
Martin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting Athria take the lead with Dr. T'Serra Relan. "Let" wasn't quite the right word, he mused. Athria led, and he followed—simple as that. This wasn't his world, all this high-tech gadgetry and scientific lingo. His understanding of what they were about to discuss was probably going to be a few miles short of where they'd actually go. He'd play the barbarian, thank you very much, while she handled the science.
Athria stepped forward, her voice calm yet commanding. "Dr. Relan?"
The Asari doctor looked up from her console, studying them both with a quick, assessing gaze. She was tall, a bit older, and carried herself with a refined authority. Her eyes briefly settled on Martin, a flicker of dismissal in her expression, before she refocused entirely on Athria.
"Ah, you must be Athria," she said, nodding slightly. "The Asari Councilor informed me you'd be coming. I imagine you're here about the artifact the Turians brought in a few months ago?"
Martin raised an eyebrow but kept his silence, just observing. Another Asari with the usual stick up her ass, he thought. Dismissing him outright—as if he were just the muscle Athria had brought along. Not that it wasn't true, but still, a little recognition wouldn't hurt.
Athria remained composed, though, taking a step closer to the desk. "Yes, that's right. I heard you've been studying it."
Dr. Relan inclined her head, folding her hands over the console. "We were… for a time. The artifact is unlike anything we've encountered before. Not from any known Citadel or Terminus tech, and certainly not Prothean."
Athria's brow furrowed slightly. "Or… Reaper?"
Relan raised an eyebrow, and Martin caught her slight hesitation before she answered, "Yes. Reaper tech has been… noted. Dr. Relan she took a breath, "but this artifact, however, has no links to Reaper or Prothean origins. We believe it to be some type of computational device, a hyper-advanced computer, in a sense."
Athria's gaze sharpened. "Computational? You mean it's… sentient?"
The doctor shook her head, chuckling. "Sentient? No. It's a computational system, not an intelligence. Analyzing and processing information at extraordinary speeds, yes, but it doesn't 'think' or 'feel' in the way you're likely imagining." Martin watched as Athria took in all the information, still standing firm, a skeptical edge to her tone. "You're certain it's just a computational device? Nothing like… mind control or manipulation?"
Dr. Relan laughed outright, a surprised, almost condescending sound. "Mind control? Goodness, no. This isn't some science fiction plot, my dear. Advanced as it may be, the artifact doesn't appear to exert any mental influence." Athria nodded, though Martin saw the tension in her stance ease just a bit. "Where is it now, then? We came hoping to learn more, but if you're saying it's no longer here…"
The doctor's expression darkened. "Yes. The Turians removed it from our facilities some weeks ago, relocating it to one of their specialized labs. The timing was… unfortunate. We'd barely begun to scratch the surface of its potential, and they whisked it away before our research was complete."
Martin leaned forward slightly, the irritation in his gut flaring. The Turians again, swiping control just as things got interesting. Typical. He noticed Athria's jaw tightening as well, clearly feeling the same frustration. She let out a slow breath, her tone calm but firm. "Where exactly did they take it?"
The doctor's lips pressed into a thin line, clearly reluctant. "That information is classified by Turian authority. I don't have the clearance to access their precise location, though if they're proceeding as intended, it's likely under heavy security. I'm afraid there's not much I can offer you beyond that."
Martin grunted, finally speaking up. "So let me get this straight. You guys had your hands on it, and the Turians just… took it?"
Relan glanced at him, her posture stiffening. "The Turians brought it in, yes. It's technically their property, so they have full jurisdiction to reclaim it at any point. We're merely… observers in this matter."
Martin exchanged a look with Athria, a mutual frustration passing between them. Typical bureaucratic mess, just what they needed. He shifted his stance, folding his arms again. "Fantastic. And you're sure there's nothing else you can tell us? No strange readings, no… quirks in its behavior?"
Dr. Relan shook her head, a hint of regret crossing her face. "Nothing out of the ordinary beyond its computational power. Whatever mysteries it holds, I suspect they'll remain buried under Turian supervision for now." She sighed. "But if you'd like, I can forward our preliminary findings to the Councilor. It may offer some context, though I fear it's incomplete."
Athria gave a curt nod. "That would be helpful. Thank you, Doctor."
With a last, lingering look, Dr. Relan turned back to her console, her attention shifting away from them as if the conversation had never happened. Martin let out a quiet sigh, meeting Athria's gaze as they turned to leave.
They stepped out of the office and down the polished hall. Martin let out a sharp breath, half an exasperated sigh, half a grumble. "Goddamn Turians," he muttered, shaking his head. "Nothing is ever easy."
Athria nodded, but her mind seemed to run differently. "What gets me is that they think it's a computational device. But that doesn't make any sense, not after… everything." Her voice held a note of worry as they walked, the steady click of her boots on the polished floor echoing through the empty corridor.
Martin slowed, mulling it over, the fractured memories of his last encounter with the artifact flooding back. His fingers flexed unconsciously, a faint itch tingling in his palms as he recalled the rush of sensations, flashes of images, emotions that hadn't been his own, a sickening pull on his mind that had felt far too real. "Unless…" he began, the words heavy on his tongue, "unless it was hiding what it really was."
She stopped abruptly, grabbing his arm, her eyes narrowing as she turned him to face her. "You're saying it's smart enough to… hide itself?"
He shrugged, glancing down the hall as if half expecting someone to be eavesdropping. "If it has any intelligence, that'd be the smart move, wouldn't it? If it can latch onto people, dig into their minds, maybe it's capable of… pretending and downplaying itself if it senses danger. Maybe it's not just a 'device' at all."
"And we had to go and dig it up." Athria rubbed her forehead, a look of frustration and worry mixing on her face.
"Hey, we didn't know what we were getting into," he reminded her firmly. "It's done. We can't change that. All we can do now is deal with it, whatever it is."
"Yeah, I know," she replied, her voice trailing off. "But if we hadn't gone after it… maybe things would be different." Her voice softened as if she were speaking to herself more than him. The guilt was clear.
Martin shook his head and stepped in front of her, locking eyes with her and rubbed her face with his hand. "Different?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a surprising warmth. "I wouldn't have died on that Mountain, sure, but I wouldn't have ended up here with you?" He huffed, a grim, almost amused smile forming. He dropped his hand to his side. "If it hadn't been for whatever this was, I would've died somewhere else, for a dumber reason. That's how life works, Athria. Sometimes you dig up something ugly without knowing it, but that doesn't make it your fault. Shit happens. We deal with it."
She looked back at him, her eyes softening as if letting herself accept the truth in his words. Finally, she took a breath, nodding slightly. "Alright," she said, her voice steadier now. "Let's just make sure we finish it this time." They moved down the hall and almost back into the bright open lobby.
Martin felt a quick tug as Athria yanked his arm, pulling him flush against the wall just around the corner, her expression sharply focused, her body tense. He caught his breath, his heart pounding as he heard that familiar, taunting voice drift through the quiet air.
"Winters!" The voice was cold, deliberate. Martin's jaw clenched as he recognized it immediately.
"Vyras," he muttered, his voice low but loud enough for the Turian to hear. "Good, you're here. I'm impressed, really," Vyras called back with an eerie calm that grated on Martin's nerves.
Martin rolled his eyes, gripping his pistol tightly as he leaned closer to the wall, keeping Athria shielded behind him. "Impressed by what, chicken boy?" he called back with a mocking tone, feeling Athria's smirk behind him.
"You've managed to read; for a primitive, you can follow a trail… unless that's why you courted the Asari." Vyras replied carrying a hint of satisfaction. "That's no small feat usually, Asari, don't go after stupid."
"Funny, coming from the one who can't seem to finish a job," Martin sneered. "You done hiding back there? Or did you just come to try to piss me off?"
Vyras chuckled, his voice echoing off the sterile walls of the lobby. "Oh, believe me, I'd rather not be wasting my time on you. But you have a knack for making things… interesting."
Athria leaned closer to Martin's shoulder, just enough to raise her voice. "Is that right? Interesting, like the fact that your squad keeps getting their asses handed to them?" she quipped, her voice laced with biting sarcasm.
Vyras scoffed, the sound carrying a hint of irritation. "A minor setback," he replied dismissively. "But I assure you, there won't be any more of those."
Martin kept his pistol steady, eyes flicking to the side as he listened closely, feeling the tension rise. "Big words from someone who won't even show his face," he said, letting his voice drop to a low growl. "What's the matter, Vyras? Scared to finish this one-on-one?"
Vyras chuckled again, but this time there was a sinister edge to it. "Scared? Hardly. I just like to keep things… efficient. Besides, I'm not the only one here."
Martin's eyes narrowed, catching Athria's wary glance as the words sank in. "Right. Efficiency. Funny, you Turians have that all figured out, huh? Efficient at hiding, at running, and now what, stalling?"
Athria gripped his shoulder, murmuring under her breath, "Martin, he's baiting us." But she raised her voice again, adding, "Still taking orders like a good little pet, Vyras? It's almost pitiful."
A low hiss followed from around the corner, Vyras's amusement thinning as he replied. "Oh, Athria. Your little jabs are as weak as the human's aim. I've seen better from rookies in training."
Martin smirked, leaning into the verbal sparring. "And here you are, playing games in a hallway. Real Spectre material, Vyras. I'm quaking in my boots."
Vyras's voice hardened, the playful tone disappearing. "Keep running your mouth, Winters. Because in a few moments, it'll be the last thing you do."
Martin's hand tightened on his pistol, feeling a surge of anger flare up. He knew they had to keep their cool, but the satisfaction in Vyras's tone was crawling under his skin. Athria's voice cut in again, sharp and unyielding. "Then stop hiding and come out, Vyras. Or are you still too scared of losing?" Martin caught the faintest shuffle of movement from down the hall. Without looking, Martin reached back and placed his hand on her face and gently directed her sight down the hall.
Martin's blood ran hot as he heard Vyras's mocking voice echo through the lobby.
"Losing? I doubt it, considering your little toy is still injured. This should be a simple matter," Vyras sneered, his words dripping with disdain.
Martin let out a low, humorless chuckle. "You don't realize just who the hell you're dealing with, Vyras. Your Citadel files? They don't tell you half of what I am."
"I know enough, Winters," Vyras retorted, though there was a hint of irritation beneath his usual smugness.
Just then, a flash of blue caught Martin's eye. He blinked as a biotic bubble formed around him and Athria, barely processing it before something heavy crashed into it with a force that reverberated through his bones. The barrier shattered, sending a shockwave through the air, and Martin stumbled, reaching for the wall to steady himself. He turned toward the impact, seeing Nira recovering from her biotic charge, her eyes blazing as she aimed herself squarely at Athria.
Martin reacted without hesitation, swinging his leg around with a kick that connected with Nira's side, knocking her off-balance for a brief moment. She stumbled but recovered quickly, flashing him a venomous glare. But Martin had already turned back to Vyras, who'd taken the opportunity to peek around the corner, his pistol raised and ready.
Martin didn't waste a second. He aimed and fired, his shot cracking through the lobby and forcing Vyras to lurch back behind cover, his own shot missing Martin by a hair. Martin pressed forward, each step deliberate, his gaze locked on the corner where Vyras had taken cover. The Turian was quick, ducking back out to fire a few more rounds, each shot sparking off the walls as Martin closed the distance between them.
He could hear the fierce clash behind him, biotic slams and grunts of effort as Athria and Nira collided again, but he kept his focus on Vyras. Another shot flew by, close enough that Martin could feel the heat graze his arm, but he didn't flinch. With a final burst of speed, he lunged forward, tackling Vyras to the ground. The impact knocked the pistol from Vyras's hand, sending it skittering across the floor.
Vyras twisted beneath him, throwing a punch at Martin's jaw. Martin grunted as the hit connected, but he retaliated with a powerful elbow to Vyras's side, causing the Turian to gasp.
From the corner of his eye, Martin caught a flash of blue as Athria and Nira were going at it behind them in back of the lobby. Vyras seized the momentary distraction, his arm snaking around Martin's neck as he tried to force him off. Martin twisted sharply, breaking the hold and landing a quick jab to Vyras's throat. The Turian sputtered, his grip loosening just enough for Martin to wrench free and roll back to his feet. He aimed his pistol down at Vyras, firing a shot that Vyras barely dodged, scrambling to his feet as he stumbled backward.
"Getting sloppy, Vyras!" Martin taunted, firing another shot that grazed the Turian's shoulder.
Vyras snarled, his composure slipping. "Sloppy? Says the human who thinks he mouth will save him." He ducked behind a column, reloading as Martin moved to flank him.
Meanwhile, Nira surged forward in a blur of biotics, her fist glowing as she threw a punch at Athria. Athria dodged, countering with a blast that sent Nira skidding back, though the Asari Spectre recovered almost instantly.
"Oh, I can't wait until I kill you?" Nira sneered, her voice thick with disdain. "Just so he can watch it happen."
Athria's face remained impassive, but Martin knew her well enough to see the anger sparking in her eyes. She took a step forward, her stance firm. "Doubt it might mount your head on my skycar though," she shot back.
Vyras had moved again, slipping around the column to fire another shot. Martin dove to the side, returning fire as he circled, pressing Vyras back step by step. He could see the cracks forming in the Turian's calm as Martin's pistol shook the room with each trigger pull.
Vyras snarled as ge lunged forward once Martin needed to reload, aiming a punch at Martin's jaw, but Martin sidestepped, catching Vyras's arm and pushing it aside.. Vyras let out a pained grunt, as Martin kicked the inside of his leg out and Through him to the floor. "Still think this is a game, Vyras?" Martin growled. Vyras strained against his hold, his eyes flashing with rage. "You won't win, Winters. This doesn't end with you walking away."
Nira refocused her attention, charging at Martin in a blur of blue energy. He barely had time to brace himself as her charge slammed into him with the force of a battering ram, sending him sprawling back down the hall he and Athria had come from. He crashed into the floor, the impact sending a sharp jolt through his bruised ribs. He struggled to shake off the disorientation, pushing himself up as he caught a glimpse of Athria raising her arm and sending out a pull.
Nira yelped as she was wrenched backward, her trajectory yanked sharply away from Martin as Athria's biotic field closed around her. She was pulled back into the lobby, as Athria slammed into her with a resounding thud. Their bodies a tangle of limbs and power as they grappled.
Vyras seized his moment, his eyes gleaming as he advanced on Martin. Martin forced himself to his feet, his pistol already in hand as he backed up into one of the nearby labs. Vyras followed, his steps precise, his own pistol aimed directly at Martin.
Martin didn't waste time. He fired off several shots, the recoil snapping through his arm as he moved to create distance, but Vyras countered, his biotic shield flickering and deflecting each shot with ease. The Turian's face twisted into a dark smile, as if relishing the hunt, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave hurtling toward Martin.
Martin ducked to the side, dodging just in time as the wave crashed into a table behind him. The air around them crackled as Martin took cover behind a nearby console, trying to catch his breath while keeping an eye on Vyras's movements.
"You can't keep running, Winters!" Vyras taunted, stepping into the lab with deliberate strides, his biotics swirling around him like a dark aura. "You're cornered. This ends here."
Martin smirked, wiping a bit of blood from his lip. "Funny, I thought you'd be better at this, Vyras. Seems all that training just made you predictable."
He sprang up from his cover, firing a quick succession of shots aimed at Vyras's torso. Vyras raised his arm, deflecting two of the shots with his biotics before ducking behind a reinforced desk, his expression shifting from confidence to irritation. Martin moved to close the distance, staying low as he navigated the maze of overturned tables and scattered equipment.
Martin scrambled through the overturned equipment and tables, feeling every bruise and aching muscle as he backed his way deeper into the lab, trying to keep a couple of meters between himself and Vyras. He glanced back, catching sight of a decontamination chamber—a sterile, sealed-off compartment that could buy him some time if he played his cards right. He let his breath come in ragged, deliberately shallow gasps, hoping to sell the illusion that he was reaching his limit.
Vyras closed in, biotics flaring in pulsing waves around him, his confidence growing with each step. "Oh, come now, Winters," he sneered, "this is almost disappointing. I'd expected a bit more from someone with your... reputation."
Martin stumbled, then righted himself, casting a defiant but weary look back at Vyras, the image of a man barely holding on. He staggered into the decontamination chamber, watching as Vyras followed, his weapon still drawn and his biotics flickering in a dangerous, dark blue haze.
"You look winded, human," Vyras mocked, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he stepped fully into the chamber. "Out of tricks?"
Martin kept his expression slack, almost defeated, until Vyras moved close enough. In an instant, Martin's expression changed. He lashed out, grabbing Vyras by the arm and yanking him forward, slamming the Turian against the wall of the chamber. The sudden impact wiped the smug look from Vyras's face as Martin tightened his grip, pressing his forearm into the Turian's neck.
"Maybe just one more," Martin growled, his voice low and seething.
Vyras choked slightly, but with a quick burst of biotic energy, he wrenched himself free, hurling Martin backward with a brutal telekinetic shove. Martin crashed through the chamber's doorway, skidding across the floor and feeling every jagged bruise flare with pain. He groaned but forced himself up, a grim smirk settling on his face as he crawled to the panel just outside the chamber.
Vyras stumbled back, regaining his composure, a flash of confusion crossing his face as he realized Martin had backed out of the room entirely. Before he could react, Martin slammed his hand down on the emergency protocol panel, the decontamination chamber's doors sealing shut with a sharp hiss.
A low, warning tone echoed in the lab as the glass surrounding the chamber shimmered with a blue tint. Inside, Vyras's biotic energy flared with frustration as he tried to manipulate the controls from within, but Martin had triggered the emergency lockdown protocols. The system was designed to isolate any potential contaminant, locking down all functionality for safety reasons. Martin leaned in close to the glass, giving Vyras a smug, mocking grin. "Guess I had a little more fight in me than you thought, huh?"
Vyras scowled, his fists pounding against the reinforced door as the emergency system held firm. Martin could see the Turian's anger simmering behind his eyes, the frustration at being outmaneuvered, even temporarily. "Don't get too comfortable in there, Vyras," Martin taunted, "I'm sure someone will come by to let you out eventually… maybe after I'm done with your little pal. Or maybe not."
Vyras's snarl was muffled, but Martin could see him mouthing words that were unmistakably laced with venom.
Martin knocked on the glass, grinning. "I guess you aren't a free-range chicken after all," With one last smirk, he turned and strode out of the lab, leaving Vyras trapped and seething in the decontamination chamber
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Athria's vision began to blur as Nira's grip tightened around her throat, the Asari Spectre's taunting voice echoing in her ears, laced with venom. "What's the matter, little Athria?" Nira sneered, leaning closer, her face twisted in a mocking smile. "Not so tough without your little human, are you?"
Athria tried to pull in a breath, her biotics flickering weakly in response, but Nira's hand was a vice around her neck. Her lungs screamed, vision spotting. She braced herself, clawing at Nira's arm, desperate for air—
A sudden, hard thud against Nira's head jolted them both, and her grip loosened enough for Athria to suck in a ragged breath. She stumbled forward, clutching her throat as she looked up to see Martin standing behind Nira, his expression fierce, his fist still raised from the punch that had disoriented her.
Martin wasted no time. He moved in with a brutal efficiency, his arm wrapping around Nira's neck from behind as he lifted her off the floor. She struggled against him, her biotics flaring, but Martin didn't relent,
Martin's grip tightened like a vice, his arm locked around Nira's neck, lifting her off the ground as he held her in place, slamming her into the wall with a force that left a dent in the metal behind her. Nira clawed at his arm, her fingers slipping and digging into his skin, desperate to break free, but Martin held firm, his face hardened with a ruthless determination. Athria staggered back, catching her breath as she watched him struggle against Nira's violent thrashing.
Then, with a final effort, Nira activated her biotics, directing a surge of force against the wall in front of her. The energy pulsed through her like a shockwave, propelling them both backward at incredible speed. Martin hit the opposite wall first with a harsh, resounding crash, his grip loosening as Nira slammed into him, crushing him between her weight and the unyielding metal.
Nira forced herself up, a dark satisfaction in her eyes as she turned, ready to bring her biotic-charged fist down on him. But before she could land the blow, Athria's own biotic field wrapped around her, pulling her back with a force that yanked her a few feet away. The sudden movement broke Nira's stance, her fist cutting through empty air as she stumbled.
Before she could fully regain her balance, Athria launched herself forward, tackling Nira to the ground. The impact sent them both rolling across the floor, each grappling for the upper hand, hands clawing and bodies twisting in a chaotic tangle. Their biotics flared and clashed around them, sparks of blue light flashing as they exchanged blows, each punch and kick landing with fierce determination.
Athria found herself on top for a moment, her hand raised to strike, but Nira countered with a burst of biotic energy, lifting them both off the floor as they grappled mid-air. Suspended in the glowing blue field, they rolled over and over, each of them struggling for control as they exchanged blows with wild, furious intensity.
Nira landed a hard punch across Athria's jaw, making her vision blur, but Athria quickly retaliated, slamming her knee into Nira's side, causing the Spectre to grunt in pain. The biotic field around them flickered as they continued their struggle, each determined to come out on top. Athria's fist found its mark, catching Nira across the cheekbone with a satisfying crack, but the victory was short-lived as Nira responded with a vicious headbutt that left Athria seeing stars.
They fell back to the floor, still locked in combat, each of them using every ounce of their strength and skill. Nira's sneering taunts came between labored breaths, her voice laced with contempt. "You think… you can beat me? You're nothing… a soft little traitor… no wonder you ended up with that human."
Athria's vision narrowed as she pushed Nira off her, shoving her back with a surge of biotics. "Keep talking, Nira," she spat, wiping the blood from her lip as she steadied herself, her stance grounded and ready. "It'll make it that much sweeter when I put you down."
Athria's eyes locked onto Nira's, seeing the flicker of something, Nira's gaze darted to the side, just enough to make Athria glance instinctively, searching for whatever unseen.
Before Athria could even shift back, A flash of biotic energy tearing through the space between them, Nira slammed into her, sending Athria flying back into the wall; her vision blurred as the impact rattled through her body. Pain shot down her spine as she crumpled to the ground, trying to pull herself back up even as her head spun. She saw Nira move toward Martin's pistol lying on the floor, her hand reaching for it.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Martin pushed himself up as his body screamed from the earlier impact. His eyes found Athria, sprawled against the wall, and then Nira, who was closing in on her, the black pistol now firmly in her grasp. Panic twisted in his gut. He began to charge forward, but froze as he realized she was holding his own gun. a painful irony that felt like a knife to his gut. He padded down his thigh, the empty holster confirming his fears.
Nira turned her sneering gaze toward him, taunting as she leveled the gun at Athria's head grabbing Athria's face holding it up, forcing Athria to look at her. "Oh, look at you, Winters," she mocked. "Say goodbye to the only bit of pussy you'll ever get. Figures the great human rebel would settle for damaged goods like this."
Martin's jaw tightened, the fury building up in him like a storm, but he kept his eyes steady, trying to think, trying to find any way to get the upper hand. "Didn't know you were the jealous type, Nira," he bit back, his voice cold. "But she's out of your league."
Nira's smirk widened, her finger hovering over the trigger. "Any last words, then?"
Martin's gaze flicked to Athria, whose eyes had regained their focus. Just as Nira pulled the trigger, the gun let out a hollow click. Athria's hand flashed forward, her biotics activating as she flung Martin's spare pistol toward him that he she had holstered on her back, with a surge of energy. Martin's reflexes kicked in, and he snatched the gun out of the air, leveling it at Nira in one smooth motion.
Nira's eyes widened in realization, and she lifted her hand to raise a biotic shield. But Martin didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger, and the shot rang out, the bullet piercing straight through her forehead. Nira's body jerked, her biotics flickering out as her lifeless form crumpled to the floor, her sneer forever frozen in a final, defeated expression.
Silence filled the room as Martin lowered the gun, his chest heaving with the aftermath of the fight. His gaze shifted to Athria, still slumped against the wall, looking dazed but alive. He stepped forward, kneeling down beside her as she reached out, her fingers curling around the handle of his original pistol, prying it from Nira's dead grasp.
Martin took her arm, helping her to her feet and pulling her closer. Athria leaned into him, her arm slung over his shoulder as she steadied herself. She managed a shaky smile, her voice rough with exhaustion. "Why… don't you choke me like you do her?" she muttered, trying for humor despite the pain etched on her face.
Martin let out a weary chuckle, nodding as he tightened his hold on her. "Later," he replied, his tone softer, as they turned toward the exit.
