Author's Note I: Not the longest of chapters, sorry, just not too much time right now. Anyways, hope you enjoy and next chapter info in bottom notes.

"Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time we need wages." – Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters

Chapter 42 – Crash Course

(Problems, Debts, The Writing on the Wall, The Job, Plan B, The Right Choice, Hesitation, Your Call is Important to Us…, Objects in Rear Mirrors…)

Not for the first time the Master Chief swept his gaze around the restaurant.

Something felt wrong.

The staff looked worried, at least more so than when he'd first entered. It was no longer the occasional furtive glance his direction as they made their way by. It was no longer any attention his way at all. And with Miranda gone, even for a moment, the kind of ease, that is to say tolerance, he might have felt with the chaos was lost.

He chafed.

The portable kinetic barrier wasn't enough. He should have come in armor, should have brought a weapon, two even, should have forced Cortana's bluff. How having these might have helped him understand Miranda's altogether strange behavior, he had yet to figure out, but at the very least he would have been more comfortable.

He should-

The Spartan took a breath in and then let it out slowly, momentarily drowning out his apprehension. Cortana had talked to him about little moments, even if he didn't understand them at first. He just had to be patient and wait to see-

He paused again as a new thought rumbled through his head like a thunderclap.

Cortana. She hadn't called yet, hadn't tried to communicate in any manner whatsoever. That was strange. Had Miranda said something to her? But why would she do that? Was this another of those 'real life' things? And, well, telling Cortana to do or not do anything had never really stopped her before, so-

His arm paused mid raise, head cocking just so as he caught sight of Miranda making her way back to their booth. The annoyance she had left with was gone. Her hands were clasped in front of her, resting against herself as she neared. She looked calm, even as she sat down.

Something was wrong.

"We have a problem," she stated after a moment, finally meeting his eyes. One of his eyebrows lifted, a 'define problem' look passing briefly across his features as his Omni-tool rose further in front of him. "It seems Cerberus is in more of a rush to deal with loose ends than I had led myself to believe…"

"Cortana-" he began, words catching in his mouth as the biotic waved him off.

"Won't be much use right now," finished Miranda with a frown, immediately garnering the remainder of the super soldier's attention in the form of a single word. Explain.

The former operative nodded, hands pressing into the table as she worked her way up to it.

"Well-"

OOOO

Shit.

The thought flung itself through Miranda's head and went nearly entirely unnoticed as the rest of her mind focused down to pinpoints. You see, despite the general overuse of the phrase, it is actually quite difficult to glare daggers at someone and even more so to maintain it for any great duration.

It's rather hard on the eyes.

Yet, despite this innate challenge by the universe, Miranda glared them at the terminal in the booth and the little squiggles that spiked when the voice on the other side spoke.

"Now before you ask, the cover charge to get in here without a reservation is outrageous…" continued Gael as a volatile cocktail of annoyance and anger began to simmer inside her gut. "That being said, why don't you come on over? Doing this over the comms feels, impersonal…"

"You don't say…" replied Miranda as she tapped a few controls on her Omni-tool, involuntarily giving it a glancing blow with her stare as she toggled an emergency signal on.

"Don't worry." A very unladylike snort flew into the air of the booth as she peered cautiously out. There was only one area a place like this would allow a man like that. "No weapons, no tricks…"

The bar.

She glared daggers at it as well, mind unable to register the fact that the multitude of displays in this portion of the establishment had begun to show only static as she narrowed her search down to the sole human leaning his back against the countertop.

"You coming?" came the call, the former operative watching the man's lips move as he stared back at her. He didn't look armed or armored even, but then again baggy clothes made a habit of obscuring such things.

The glare intensified as she slowly made her way over, subconsciously going through her mental checklist. She had her Omni-tool, but that was about it. She hadn't even palmed one of the table knives. But why would she, distractions and all?

Too distracted.

"The whiskey here actually isn't too bad," continued Gael as she planted herself in front of him, the man making a rather obnoxious 'ah' sound as he downed the rest of his glass, "for batarian shit."

"We're on Illium," deadpanned Miranda as her mind attempted to draw processing power away from the, well, glaring problem and put it towards something a tad more useful. Such as situational awareness.

"Mean-ing?" asked the operative through a twitch as a lazy smile spread itself across his face.

"It's Asari…" The larger man stared at her, single eyebrow cocked as if she had just tried speaking to him in Latin.

"What's the difference again?" Miranda's glare doubled, somehow attempting and managing to cram everything between 'You're an idiot' to 'die in a fire' in her frozen gimlet. If he took heed of it, however, it never showed. Especially when he continued with a long drawn out "Sooo-"

"Are you armed?" she asked bluntly, not exactly knowing what she would do even if he was.

"Didn't I say-" started Gael even having the gall to look hurt.

"Are you armed?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" ventured the vanguard with a sigh, absentmindedly sliding his glass towards the bartender. Miranda's jaw set, allowing her stare full freedom to answer for her. "Suit yourself, but to be fair the detectors here are pretty good."

"Fine," replied the former operative accepting that bit of logic at least. Either he was confident he could do what needed done with his hands and biotics or there were others waiting. And it didn't exactly help that her mind immediately suspected both to be entirely plausible at the moment. However, as she glanced around all she could see were asari and a multitude of other non-humans. "Well?"

"Congratulations." Miranda had not expected she would find a way to deepen her frown, but that single word had managed to find a way to do so. "You've made the list."

"Am I supposed to be surprised?" Or, option three, he was simply here to gloat.

"No, but it is important to find ways to enjoy one's job." Despite all points to the contrary, her frown deepened further. This however seemed to be the correct response as Gael's smile deepened in contrast before continuing with, "Speaking of, are you enjoying your little evening out? That get up you're in… must be someone special-"

"Get to the point or leave, Faust," declared Miranda as part of her wondered if it would be best to try and deal with him now. The Chief would most likely hear and-

"Right. As you wish." The grin vanished in an instant, the serious gaze that was left catching the raven-haired woman momentarily by surprise. "I'm here to give you a choice."

Faust sat down on one of the bar stools, patting the one beside him in what Miranda believed was an attempt at a reassuring fashion. The replying scoff was more than loud enough to raise itself above the growing din from the other bar denizens.

"Suit yourself," muttered the operative with a knowing shrug. "You see, there's a few ways this evening can conclude. First you get up, come with me, and take a nice long flight-

"And you kill me?" finished Miranda, arms crossing in a 'I dare you to tell me otherwise' kind of way.

"No… well, at least not by me." A pair of disbelieving thin eyebrows raised themselves. "The back-alley special isn't automatic, you know…"

"Why do I find that hard to believe…" she ventured as she suddenly found herself in the awkward position of believing the man.

"Believe what you want, I'm just the messenger … so to speak."

"And the Chief?"

"Tall, not so dark, and strong as hell?" The eyebrows rose further. "Not on the list, not my problem… so long as you don't make him my problem."

"And two?" asked Miranda, pressing on into the conversation despite her best wishes.

"Well, you and the biggun run and maybe we catch you, maybe we don't." Miranda found herself sneering despite herself. The man was being entirely too honest. He never figured out how to play the subtlety game, just the little games he liked to play. "Who knows what could happen…"

"And three?" The large man blinked momentarily at a loss of words. Such a very rare occurrence.

"There isn't a three…" stated Gael suspiciously, Miranda doing everything within her power to keep her face level. No sense in showing one's hand this-

-and then that smile of his grew back in an instant.

"Oh… wait did you mean that little beacon of yours?" Ice began to trickle through her veins, her blood running cold as she stared at the operative. Miranda's jaw set as her mind attempted to whir into action. "Look around for a moment. I think you missed something…"

And, with her mental processes momentarily stunned away from their glaring procedure, the former Cerberus operative finally began to look about. Displays all around the bar were static. Patrons here and there were slapping their Omni-tools and grumbling. Managers were being called to give answers they didn't have.

Undisciplined…

"Black bag protocol?" asked Miranda quietly as she looked down at her own Omni-tool, already knowing the answer even as she tried to access any sort of communications.

"More or less."

"Why?" she pressed as a rather peculiar thought began to worm its way up from the depths of her mind.

"It's pretty standard procedure when someone of your stature becomes a risk. Besides we were told to spare no expense-"

"No," replied Miranda calmly staring forward as if she could trap the thought in place with her eyes. "Why are you here…now?"

"Officially?" began Gael a broad genuine smile stretching languidly across his twitchy features. "I'm not. Officially, I'm out there on a roof top ensuring others are in position. At least, that's what Kai Leng thinks."

"Ah," she managed just barely as the 'spare no expense' suddenly found itself with an adorning 'Oh bloody hell' beside it within her mind.

"If it was up to him and the plan," continued the operative, no shortage of disgust tarnishing the last words, "we'd probably have just disabled your taxi on the way back or sniped the big man the moment you two step out the door and then moved in."

"But… why?" fumbled Miranda as perfectly logical plans, at least in a 'if she had to plan it' kind of way, played themselves out within her head almost flawlessly.

"Well, this is normally the part where I'd say that's boring or I just hate Leng, but-"

"Even you're not stupid enough to do that," she interrupted immediately, her mind immediately clearing in the face of such gross negligence.

"Exactly," agreed Gael, apparently content to ignore the insult. "No. Consider this a courtesy call..."

The man trailed off, tapping the side of his nose knowingly as if that might bridge the logic gap he had unknowingly thrown himself across. She stared, her glare warming up once more for another pass. And then, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he continued.

"…You and the others got me off that hell hole. This is just me paying it forward."

"How… generous…" began Miranda sardonically, teeth grinding as she looked at a man whose face all but yelled 'Yes, yes, you can thank me at any time.' "Though, some might say letting us go would be making it even."

"There's still a job to do," replied the operative with a shrug before a rather devious and knowing look affixed itself onto his face. "Besides we both know that you probably tried everything you could to get your team to ignore my little distress signal once you found out it was me... So, let's just call this fair game, eh?"

Begrudgingly, Miranda offered Faust a look, it was not of the kind variety. Nor was it of the telling kind. After all, there was no point in letting the bastard confirm his suspicions.

"Look… I've seen a bit of what your little all-star team can do… it's fair…" continued Gael, failing to wilt under any metaphorical heat lamps. "So… that answer?"

"I believe you'll know my answer soon enough," she replied, no shortage of chill ringing in her words as she backed away.

"Thought so," she heard the large man mumble as he stood slowly to his feet. The former operative paused, tense and ready for any sudden moves. A moment later she found herself relaxing as Gael walked calmly by towards the exit. "Well, if you change your mind just walk out alone… wouldn't take the skycars… in case that wasn't obvious already-"

"-oh, and-"

OOOO

"Cheers!" went the party next to their private booth as Miranda finished her retelling.

"What are we looking at?" asked John as his mind unhelpfully pointed out once more the lack of armor.

"If they're being conservative? Three to four teams, minimum." It was the Chief's turn to frown as his thoughts whirred into action.

"And if they're not?" he pressed as his eyes perused the table, but it was hardly useful. The knives looked far too dull.

"Double, at least. Not to mention whatever bribes can get them here." The Spartan's frown deepened. He hadn't even had a chance to stress test the kinetic barrier yet.

Silence ruled between the pair for a moment, the Chief's far too active senses running on overdrive now, picking up each and every movement around them.

"Can't fly out," he said eventually as plans began to cross themselves out before his eyes.

"Agreed. I don't think he was bluffing," replied the biotic with a nod. "It's too easy to track here."

"Can't stay here," added the Spartan distractedly as scenarios developed themselves within his mind. He had seen the clientele as they had moved through the building. The term non-combatant seemed too modest.

"I'd assume so. They'll have paid off whoever was necessary enough to keep law enforcement off their backs… at least for a time. And, knowing who's in charge, I wouldn't put demolitions past them…"

"By ground then?" asked John as he attempted to recall how far they'd flown. He was having trouble, for some reason he hadn't tracked their entire flight through the window. Odd.

"It's probably our best bet," replied Miranda with a weary sigh, resting an elbow on the table and a head in a hand. "They'll most likely have line of sight on all the building's exits. But-"

"We don't have weapons…" stated the Spartan calmly, his mind unhelpfully noting again his break from normal protocol and mentally underlining it for future review.

"Yes, I know," mumbled the biotic as the Master Chief watched a 'don't remind me' look wash over her face. Strange, if only he could tell himself that. "However, if we can get by the initial cordon, there's a good chance we won't… need… any…"

He watched as the words died upon her face as she finally caught the look he was giving her.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"No."

"Right, so… weapons… I… I may have an idea for that," continued the biotic as she stood, the Chief following suit just as he noticed their server stride up. She appeared as though she had gathered a short supply chain along the way.

"Is there something amiss, Miss Lawson."

"My apologies but we need to leave."

"Of course, Miss Lawson. We appreciate your patronage," replied their server, the asari calmly waving food laden trays back towards the kitchen without a second thought and following them a moment later. And for a moment, John felt a pang of regret. They had smelled good.

Whatever they were.

His gaze drifted between their table and the staff as a particularly dusty thought attempted to rattle into position. He stood there unmoving, disregarding the pull on his arm as his mind attempted to puzzle out what was wrong, as if it might solve the current dilemma. There was something they were supposed to do, wasn't there?

"What is it?" whispered Miranda, drawing his attention down to her and, quite coincidentally, jostling the thought closer to the light.

"Don't," began John slowly, frowning deeper in confusion as the thought, aged beyond belief, wheeled itself into the forefront of his mind like the universe's rustiest bicycle, "we have to pay?"

His head cocked as he watched the curious array of expressions parade across the biotic's face. Eventually she finally settled on amusement before tugging on his arm again. He followed, his confusion deepening as he attempted to sort it out. If there was a joke there, he didn't think he could have found it with a microscope.

"It'll be-"

OOOO

Fine?

"Yes," mumbled Gael as he trudged through the rain, knuckles whitening as he fought off the latest thank you gifts from his L3's.

No. We shouldn't have done that.

"Probably… had to though… had to make it even." She wasn't going to take the deal, that much he could have guessed before they had even started talking. But then again, she had never really been the problem with this op, she'd just been the target. Well, at least the only one he had to care about but with that came its own challenges.

You think that'll matter to them when the hunt starts? The biotic shivered. Not from the rain pouring onto his head or from the pills that had been missing for a day now.

"Not in the slightest…" he trailed off as he made it to the alley where he had hastily stashed away his armor and the remainder of his weapons.

He had no qualms with the others, even the xenos really if he were to allow himself to be truly honest. Back on Sanctum they'd done their job and they'd let him do his. What more was there to ask for? So long as the fallback plans held up, at least the only one they'd really have to worry about was the biggun. Right…the only one…

"What to do, what to do?" he muttered as he began sliding himself back into his armor, ignoring the pointed looks of passersby. Humans did strange things in the rain; didn't they know that? Well, they could just get over it.

We do what need's doing…

"Faust," called Leng over the comms as he replaced the last of his armament.

"As always," he finished as he hooked his link back into the correct channels, the only channels that mattered now. Ah the privileges of one of the newer models. "Just another one for the list then."

"Faust!"

"Yes, infallible one?" replied Gael, keying his mic on as he began peering up at the buildings around himself.

"Are the teams prepped?" Hell, the man could make a reading of 'Puppies, Kittens, and You' sound like a ransom letter.

"Yes," replied Faust in what he sincerely hoped was a 'you could have done that too, Leng, but you're even less of a team player than I am,' kind of way.

"Stick to the plan," added Leng as the feed cut off, leaving the large man nodding as he disappeared down another side street.

"Are we sure he isn't on the list?"

The orders were clear. You know that.

"Damn," muttered the vanguard as he eyed a particularly appealing assortment of fire escapes and flitted up to the nearest one with a biotic charge.

Not yet anyways. Accidents do happen.

"Don't tempt me," he whispered with a smile as he repeated his charges again and again until he had reached a rooftop. "There's work to do."

You're the one that asked.

"Asked and answered," he replied as he settled onto a likely perch, the rain dribbling off him like an obscure gargoyle.

Watching and-

OOOO

Waiting had never truly been part of Cortana's repertoire.

So, in a ball of angry digital energy, Cortana traveled the well-worn connections on the Normandy towards the AI core.

Worry tinged the edges of her programming as her pings towards EDI continued to bounce back without answer, as her frantic calls to the Chief were met with a void. Had she skin, the transferred parts of her mind knew this would be the time for it to start prickling. Everything just felt wrong. Even Legion's normally overbearing presence was gone. And, as she neared her fellow AI's core, and the sudden dead end to their connection, fears began to confirm themselves.

Digital fingers tested the boundary, trying to latch onto something in this portion of the ship's systems but it was like grabbing onto a greased ladder. Something was fighting back against her attempts, but there was no personality to it, no creativity. Just a wall, just darkness.

Well, there was more than one way to take a look at the AI core.

In an instant her awareness had spread to the dark room's holo-deck, peering through its cameras.

She caught sight of Legion slumped in a corner, lights out. She noted the destroyed door, purposefully maligned. But most importantly of all she saw the three standing in front of EDI, their backs to her as what could only be described as a spiderweb of mechanics and digitization continued to latch onto her core. It looked painful.

And, feeling herself glow redder and redder, Cortana grew angry.

Well, the first step was always going to be 'try to play nice'. But, at least she thought she could access the oxygen levels in the room still.

Out of habit, the artificial intelligence attempted to call the Chief one more time-

-and, failing one more time, Cortana's tiny avatar sprang onto the display.

"So," she began suddenly, placing her hands on her hips as the three saboteurs turned in surprise. And, finally seeing their faces and the re-breathers they held ready, she faltered. They were crew. "If I asked nicely would you stop what you're doing and turn yourselves in?"

Well, shit, there went plan B.

"Shit!" exclaimed one, Livia, she believed if her facial recognition suite could be trusted at this moment. This… this was going to be problematic.

"This doesn't involve you," stated another, facial ID tagging him as Perkins as he walked towards her podium.

"I am feeling pretty involved, right now," replied Cortana calmly as she scanned the three, noting the small digital connections they seemed to be giving off. Not strange at all…

"Get rid of her," said the third as she continued to analyze her findings, following the threads until each ended with the strange device latched onto EDI.

"This is your last chance," she stated as Perkins lifted his pistol towards her, the words sounding hollow even to herself. And then her view of the room suddenly went black as the gun went off. She floated in the Normandy's systems for a moment contemplating deeply.

Every other nasty trick she could think of unfortunately required some sort of access to the AI core. Not generally a problem on a normal day but with her firmly locked out at the moment, her options were limited.

She tested the external systems, latching onto the dock's connection with ease.

"Well, then, plan C it is," she mumbled to herself as she immediately dove out into the city's networks. Whatever was blocking her attempts at the Chief, he was going to have to deal with for the moment. There were other issues. Largely, why some of the crew had decided to go rogue. Luckily enough for her-

-she did know a few people who could help her figure out-

OOOO

"Why?"

The job had been straight forward enough, at least that's what Esmond had been led to believe. And with an establishment like this, what more could be asked for?

"Why what?"

Watch the training video, read the kiosk manuals, be a generally likeable person.

"Why do they give up their weapons?"

Hell, he could do two out of three with his eyes closed. And, from what the others had told him, so long as he at least attempted to stay courteous the tips were more or less a sure thing.

"Because they're not allowed in the restaurant."

And did all these big bastards enjoy tipping or what? Who knows, maybe it made them feel important, offering out what they thought were scraps. He didn't care. He did his job, they did theirs, and everyone went home happy. Or at the very least content.

"What about Omni-tools?"

However, he had a feeling that the pale giant and the stern woman calmly ignoring him as they stood before his desk were not exactly made to fit this particular mold of etiquette.

"Point…" continued the woman as she continued to gaze up and up at her… well, he wanted to say fellow human, but certain parts of his brain kept rebelling at that thought. "Just trust me."

"Excuse me," managed the desk clerk with the kind of mousy politeness that attempts to gain the target or targets' attention while continuing to impart that the user is simply a humble part of the scenery right now but 'would you kindly just get the hell on with it, sir and or madam and or other.'

He believed the manual had called the strategy something along the lines of 'Failure to keep guests content will result in immediate termination of working contract.'

"Yes?" asked the woman as they looked down at him.

"Chit?" attempted the attendant not for the first time as he felt his shoulders involuntarily slump in a conceited attempt to pull him away from the two. They tugged again as the lady smiled at him, he knew that kind of smile.

"I was hoping you would be so kind as to let us know what weapons have been stowed away by your other patrons."

"I'm sorry," he began, face going wooden as one of his hands crawled as surreptitiously as it could towards the counter's panic button. It paused as a credit chit dropped into view in front of him- "but I can't… divulge… our… client…tele?"

-and then another-

"Look, I appreciate what you're-" -and another- "… you're not going back inside are you?"

"No," rumbled the giant, the clerk's eyes shifting nervously up at him, around the nearly empty greeting room, and then back down at the chits.

"What are you looking for exactly?" ventured Esmond curiosity getting the better of him as a hand began to snake towards the promise of more credits than a year's worth of work, maybe even two.

"The confiscated armament," replied the pale man simply, the bluntness of the words giving even over piqued greed a moment of pause.

"You're… not going to kill anyone are you?" asked the attendant as the last bit of what may have been called honor or duty snaked its way out of his mouth.

"Not if we can help it," replied the woman with a thin smile that seemed to add 'Well, not here at least.'

"Right… right… right," bumbled the small man as his access pad was laid calmly onto the desk top. "Well, I… I would definitely… definitely not put any weapons or armament at the very rear of the compartment or use the last passcode on the data pad to open it..."

"Understood," replied the lady, her smile warming a touch as her hand found the pad and his found the chits.

"Where are they then?" asked the large man, drawing a pair of glances up his way. His stared back down at them, puzzlement tinging the placid expression.

"It's understood," repeated the woman, patting her partner's arm reassuringly and receiving a small frown in return.

"Right… well… I'm… I'm going to go home…" attempted Esmond as he backed away slowly, moving faster and faster the further he got away, "or to another city… possibly another planet."

"All excellent-"

OOOO

Ideas.

They tumbled through Miranda's mind like the steady rain onto Illium's streets. Her mouth moved silently as she considered each in turn and discarded the chaff. Her eyes glared at the precipitation outside as if she suspected it too was out to get them.

"Are you sure you can hide those?" she asked absentmindedly as she pulled her pilfered pistol from her bag, inspecting it again.

"I'll manage," rumbled the Spartan as his rustling brought a wry smile his way.

The man had pulled five guns out of the locker and was well under way with grabbing the rest of the stash when the biotic had managed to persuade him that at least some attempt at secrecy should be made. Even then, how he was managing to hide them all from the casual eye she didn't know.

"Looks clear," stated John as he peered past her and out the glass doors of the ground floor of the tower.

"Yes, that's what worries me," replied Miranda just catching the Chief's agreeing frown.

They had moved down the tower easy enough, despite her mounting paranoia. Even as she did her best to cover their tracks, she had expected something, anything. Not workers going about their day up and down the stairwells or the pedestrians moving about in the storm.

"Well, we…" the biotic stopped as she caught John's gaze and then followed it downwards. "Yes?"

"The… shoes?" replied the large man without looking up. Miranda smiled conspiratorially as she faced the Spartan and calmly kicked off the heels.

"Problem solved…" she replied in mock seriousness, the Spartan's frown only deepening. "What now?

"Will that be a problem?"

"Comfort or blending in?" John nodded, drawing an amused snort from the biotic. "I think I'll manage. As for blending in…"

Miranda paused as her gaze walked up and down the Master Chief's large frame. It stuck on his face as his head cocked to the side.

"What?"

"I think blending in is going to be difficult no matter what…" trailed off the former operative as she brought her eyes back towards the exit, watching the flow of pedestrians and then fixing itself on the alley at the other side of the street.

Technically it was the straightest path back towards the Normandy, at least, the straightest path she was willing to take. However, she couldn't help but eye the milling throng wistfully at least for a moment.

"We could move with the foot traffic, use them as cover…" stated Miranda evenly, hating herself for the words even as she spoke them.

"Yes…" trailed off the Spartan, agreeing as he silently offered a 'but we won't.'

"Well," countered the biotic immediately as she straightened herself up as best she could, taking a deep calming breath before looping an arm around one of the Spartan's, "shall we?"

And as he led them out the door, for a brief moment she noticed the man hadn't twitched, well, not like he had before.

That was-

OOOO

Odd.

Well, at least Garrus believed it was, as the thought flew through his head, but there was nothing else for it. So, the turian gave in and decided it was simply best to develop a new outlook on the universe at large.

Shepard was irrevocably cursed.

It was all so clear now. The Spectre could go to the most remote planet in Citadel space, where not a single lifeform might know who he was, and inevitably someone would have to die. He could have been sent to deliver box loads of toys to an orphanage and some mercenary gang might suddenly think it a good idea to spontaneously get into the black market plushie scene. Truly incredible.

Everything he touched turned into a firefight.

But as he lined up his latest shot, a somewhat pleasant afterthought managed to worm in on the other side. If Liara were dead, these bastards probably wouldn't be trying so hard to stop them. And as he pulled the trigger on his sniper rifle, another of said bastards' efforts to stall them became terminally impaired.

This did not, however, seem to deter the others as they countered with a barrage of mass accelerator fire his way.

"Garrus!" called Shepard as the turian hunkered down behind his cover.

"What?" he snapped back over the blaring retort of Tali's shotgun.

"We have a call. Take it," ordered the Spectre, momentarily drawing a strange look across the ex-CSec officer's face.

"Why?" he countered as he slammed a new thermal clip home.

"Because you're way back there…" Garrus chanced a look above his cover, watching as more of the strange mercenaries began to surround the Commander's position.

Ah…

"Hello. You've reached Shepard's fire team, Home of the Direct Method. If you've got a problem, we know how to shoot our way through it," stated the turian as he sighted down his sniper rifle once more. He loved it when Shepard started playing 'bait'. "How may I direct your call?"

"Put Shepard on," replied Cortana immediately, the flatness in her voice throwing off his aim.

"He's… busy…" provided Garrus as he focused on his next shot. Tali was fine, shotguns always made for a good choice when someone kept trying to storm your position. Shepard on the other hand…

"Okay, fine, we have a problem." He guessed he would use the phrase 'technically fine but not doing himself any favors.'

"Are you watching the cameras in here?" And then a thought dawned, and his eyes widened. "Okay, so I used your memories for personal gain a few times. I think-"

"I don't think that's what she's talking about," growled Tali as the detonation of Shepard's drone filled the offices.

"Something happen to the Chief and Miranda?"

"Yes, but how did-"

"I hear things." Well, Kasumi hears things… he added silently as he sent a high impact shot into another mercenary, flinging him into a group of his friends. "Wait, do I have pay out lot sixty-three?"

"No and that's still not why I'm-"

"Then-" attempted Garrus distractedly as his latest shot snapped a grey and white colored head back, leaving the two other's vaulting over the Commander's cover for him.

"EDI's being attacked by some of the crew…"

"What?" called Tali and Garrus in unison as an angry gurgle emanated from the Spectre's position. The turian immediately brought his rifle back up and towards his friend's position, but he needn't have bothered.

They may have been trying to choke him out at the point but those two seemed to have misunderstood a couple things. One, that James hadn't exactly been happy going into this place to start with, and now, he was just pissed. And two, well, a few hundred volts applied to the face didn't really care how good of an upper hand you had at the current moment.

"Some of the crew has been tampered with," proceeded Cortana as Garrus continued his support, momentarily illuminated as the light of raw electrical charge flared through the room. Poor bastards. "They're not themselves right now. They've locked down the AI core, disabled Legion, and have attached some strange device to EDI."

"We're a little tied up at the moment," replied the ex-CSec officer as he ran to new cover, narrowly avoiding a well tossed flashbang, "but what do you need us to do?"

"I can slow it down whatever it is that they're doing but that's about it… not without attempting some more extreme measures… I need someone to take care of them and take the device off of EDI."

"And we're… the first ones… you found?" panted Shepard as he scrambled back into cover, relieved of his burdens at least in the immediate physical sense.

"Well, it is easy to follow the explosions…"

"Point," mumbled Garrus as the last of their assailants finally fell. "Well, I think I know where the triplets are…"

"Not the subtlest course, but I'll think that'll be-"

OOOO

Good enough.

They were not the words Miranda would probably use at the present moment as the rain pitter pattered a frantic dance against their Omni-brella as they crossed the street and through the crowd.

She had immediately regretted her bravado with her heels, the cold wet pavement sending shivers up her legs. It might not have taken that long to find a suitable replacement, but time was of the essence and the route back towards the Normandy was long even to just get out of the blackout bubble.

She would just grin and-

"You're cold already," stated the Spartan in a rumbling whisper as they neared the edge of the crowd.

"I'll be fine," she attempted before quite surprisingly she felt the large man pull her closer to him. He was warm, whether from the extra clothes or the vigilant adrenaline now pumping through his veins she didn't know, and, for a simple instant, she didn't care.

She felt herself calm.

The mobile jammer's range would be smaller than the one on Sanctum. In a few klicks, they'd be able to call for help, in a few klicks, they might even be able to get out of the damn weather. Bloody hell, in a few klicks, maybe she could-

She felt the Master Chief tense suddenly and for a very brief moment, time seemed to slow. She saw him scanning around them, the sudden lack of foot traffic as they moved further into the alleyway an immediate weight in her gut.

Miranda began to look around as well, peering up through the rain as the drops fell slower and slower. As another flash of lighting tore across the sky, they stopped entirely and then she caught a peculiar glint-

-and very nearly died.

"Chief-" began Miranda, her words pouring out of her mouth as if they had to kickstart all of reality.

She got no further than the first syllable, however, as she suddenly found herself shoved out of the way as a large biotic comet soared towards her former position slamming instead into the John's chest.

She saw red splash, a combat knife blossoming out of the Spartan's shoulder as Gael's form coalesced out of the biotic current and immediately received a punch in the stomach. A shotgun began to raise in the vanguard's other hand as he reeled backward, but a push from Miranda knocked him and his aim away and into the side of a trash bin.

Instantly, the pair drew their weapons, unloading on Faust as he staggered back to his feet. The operative's barrier flared, deflecting the mass accelerator rounds as they surged towards him-

-and then he was gone.

Within another biotic flash, Gael had flitted further down the alleyway and made his way around the corner, returning fire blindly.

With hardly a thought, Miranda ducked behind a corner, checking for wounds as she felt her barriers snap back to full strength.

"Chief, you okay?" she called across the alleyway, looking over at the man even as he pulled a pilfered medi-gel from his pocket.

"Green," he replied as one hand worked the knife free and applied the salve while the other calmly directed a pilfered sidearm towards the hostile and open fired. He was working as well as if it had just been a rogue toothpick-

"Hey!"

A sneer pressed its way onto Miranda's face as she wrenched her gaze deeper into the alley and let off a few rounds at the voice.

"If you're done with it, could I get my knife back now?"

A shotgun blast roared ineffectively back at the pair as they locked eyes and then began to advance.

"Don't get me wrong, if you like it you can keep it-"

A constant stream of mass accelerator fire streamed towards the alley's end, the rounds momentarily highlighted by an ebon glow that had Miranda pressing the attack faster and faster.

"-but it's one of my favorites so…"

The duo turned the corner and found it empty save for a data pad set to receive-

Immediately the Chief thrust himself against a wall, Miranda following suit as mass accelerator fire lanced down at them from the rooftop above.

"We need to move," stated the Spartan as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a run.

"Hard way it is then-" started the receiver before the biotic kicked it against a wall, the contrivance sputtering and then dying-

-as a multitude of booted feet echoed behind them.

Next Chapter: Chapter 43 – Doubletakes

Author's Note II: Going on a Hiatus. Right now, there's no time for anything outside my normal work and personal life commitments. If I tried to put myself on a time schedule again, all that would happen would be me delaying it month after month. When I am once more able to commit to a date, I'll update the story summary and my personal profile. In the meantime, I won't be on the site and so won't be looking at/responding to any reviews or PMs. I thank you for your understanding.

Cheers.