So I had an idea. And it just grew, and grew, and grew... And then the lovely Greenyoda987 told me I had to write it, or she would be sad. And I have to say, it's so much fun. So hopefully you guys like it as much as she and I do! I'm actually going to try to update this one on a more regular basis (we'll see how long that lasts).

"The video feed has been patched through, ma'am. The whole Citadel will be seeing this now."

The addressed woman smiled over the rim of her wine glass, slowly swirling the dark red liquid as she paced across the nearly-empty office toward an oversized, polished metal desk. "Excellent, bring it up on my screen." She sat gracefully, golden eyes watching as a holoscreen lowered from the ceiling, and tapped manicured nails against the plush arm of her padded leather chair. A video began to play and, though the image was slightly grainy, it was clear enough that something terrible was about to happen to the man on the screen; he was handsome, even as his eyes darted about, searching for an escape, and his hands grabbed at the arm holding him up by his neck. The woman chuckled quietly, musing that, even in the ferocious winds at the top of the building, the man's hair was still perfect.

"Please," he begged, "You don't have to do this, I won't come back. I'll disappear! Just let me go!"

"Let you go?" The new voice was heavily distorted, drawing a bit of static from her translator, "Are you sure you want that, Commander?" The hand around the man's neck loosened and he cried out in panic. "I thought not."

The woman sipped her wine, expression impassive as the commander continued to beg for his life, casting furtive glances down to the streets of the Presidium far below. His Alliance uniform was torn and dirty, blood smudged across the blue fabric. A bruise was beginning to bloom under the man's jaw and his nose was obviously broken.

"Commander Alenko, Spectre Alenko," the voice sighed in disappointment, "Did you really think you could sneak into my organization and sabotage me? Me?!" The voice demanded, giving the man a shake. When he didn't answer, the voice continued, "You and your government have forgotten who you are dealing with. Spectre or no, you cannot control me, or my people."

"You won't get away with this!" The man's defiance didn't reach his voice, his face still fixed in an expression of terror.

The laugh that came through the audio feed was low and sinister, flanging through the distortion. "I don't expect to. You are to be an example, Kaidan. I fully expect your precious Council to take notice." There was a pause and the man's eyes widened. "Goodbye, Commander Alenko."

The hand holding Kaidan Alenko over the edge released its grip. He didn't even have time to scream before the artificial gravity drew him straight down, his body flailing as he plummeted toward the bustling Commons below. The camera didn't turn, holding its position at the roof's edge until the body slammed into the pristine walkways beside the lakes, painting the shining, metallic surface a grisly red. The video cut off, leaving static, and the woman nodded absently.

"If I may, ma'am, the Council will think twice before they send another spy."

"Yes, I would agree, Ms. Zorah. Thank you, as always. In the meantime, please divert all of my calls until further notice. Be sure to monitor Citadel-wide comms and let me know of any new developments. I'm sure we've just caused quite the stir," the woman replied, turning her chair to stare out the picture window overlooking the Presidium.

"Of course, Shepard, I mean, ma'am."

Shepard smiled, shaking her head slightly but didn't reprimand her tech specialist. Only a few people knew who she was, and even fewer of her position at the top of her… infamous organization. And yet Tali'Zorah was one of her most trusted agents—and a tech wizard—so Shepard felt it would be counterintuitive to try to keep anything from the quarian. Plus, after the brilliant job she had done on the voice distortion, the girl had more than earned the right to call Shepard by her name; the program was ingenious, translating her words into turian common and manipulating the pitch and timbre to the point of being unrecognizable, and then exploited an oversight of translator programming by eliminating all traces of manipulation. Shepard didn't know how but that was irrelevant. The quarian was a genius.

Skycars flew by as she watched, but she knew they couldn't see her; shortly after she had acquired the building, she had replaced all of the glass with tinted, bulletproof polymers. Sure, no one would recognize her as anyone other than Regina Shepard, successful investor and well-known donor to the C-Sec Retirement Fund—they would not see the Illusive Man, head of the Family—yet a little caution never hurt anyone. She chuckled. The syndicate's name was a mix of irony and laziness that always served to entertain her; no one in the organization was related, nor were there many familial sentiments between them, and the name was primarily chosen with the justification that their energies could be better spent on more pressing concerns than a name—like crime. And the Illusive Man… The moniker had passed on to her when her predecessor met an… unfortunate end. Her rise had been the product of deceit, underhanded dealings, and the element of surprise. And a lot of blood. She laid her fingertips over her sternum, feeling the uneven, circular scar in the middle of her chest; she was no stranger to violence herself. The last Spectre to infiltrate the Family had given her the scar with an expertly placed sniper round, but while he had stood over her gloating, explaining just how her people would be treated upon their arrest, she had put two bullets up through his chin. Turians, she had decided that day, looked decidedly odd without a lower jaw; for all their prowess as a well-disciplined military power, they were quite the cocky bastards. She had been lucky, she supposed, to last long enough for her security teams to arrive and smuggle her to a private hospital and leave the Spectre to rot. And it had certainly caused some drama when his body was found. What was his name? It had been all over the vids during her recovery… Nihlus. Ah yes. Nihlus Kyrik. The Council had been quite upset at the loss of one of their top agents. Would they be just as torn up over the death of the first human Spectre, she wondered.

The Family was not as evil as the Council made them out to be—it wounded her unusually honor-bound pride. Yes, they specialized in political intrigue, blackmail, and protection. Yes, they were involved in multiple assassinations. Yes, they dabbled in commodities smuggling. But unlike their Terminus counterparts, they avoided civilian collateral damage at all costs. Citizens were ambivalent about the Family's activities: they were technically criminals, and yet whenever innocent people walked into a firefight, it was the Family that ensured they escaped safely, not the law. True, the syndicate's methods of dealing with traitors and moles was known to be harsh and unforgiving, but as long as they stayed out of the Family's business, civilians knew they were safe. Citizens had developed a selective blindness to the criminal organization's activities and, in return, they were left alone.

Shepard sipped her wine again, savoring the taste on her tongue, and closed her eyes. Murder and fine wine… A very relaxing day, if she said so herself. She crossed one leg over her knee, absently flexing her ankle in the constricting heeled boots she wore under the fashionable, floor-length dress that covered her from the shoulder down, save for the plunging neckline to show off her scar. To say Regina Shepard had expensive tastes was an understatement, to call her a hedonist was a compliment. After all, she had earned it. And what was a woman without her vanity?

"Jacob Taylor to see the Illusive Man," Tali said, voice level, and Shepard sighed, setting the glass down. Back to business, and so soon…

"Thank you, Tali. Wait ten minutes and then send him up," she replied, standing and striding toward one wall. She laid her hand against the black, reflective panel and it retracted with a hiss, revealing an armor locker. The armor was plain and bulky, built for a man of larger build and stature, but she shed the dress and snapped the plates on anyway, twisting her hair up and pulling on the helmet. The mirrored visor blocked her face and she settled back behind her desk, elbows propped on the metallic surface. Holoscreens rose behind her, displaying logistics and financial patterns, and bathed her back in light and her front in shadow.

It was only a few minutes before the door slid open, admitting an irate-looking Jacob Taylor into her office. "Illusive Man, we need to talk."

"Of course, Jacob," she replied, happy to see the helmet's in-built voice modulator worked just as well as the one on her omnitool. "What's on your mind?"

Jacob's brow furrowed and she could see his lips purse into a thin line before he spoke; it was a sign that he was trying to think carefully about his next words, a tell that whatever he was about to say, he knew it most likely earn him a frosty reception. "Why didn't you consult me before dealing with Commander Alenko? You promoted me to your security officer, so why not let me deal with a security breach?"

Shepard sat back, laying her hands flat on the desk and studied the man in front of her critically. "Is this because I did not consult you, or because you are uncomfortable with an Alliance man dying? I know you're ex-Alliance, Taylor, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't believe this is independent of your history." His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she smiled within the helmet; she had him.

"That's…" The man stopped, fists clenching at his sides. "You're right. I don't think we needed to kill him." Ah good, he realized lying wouldn't help him; those who lied to the Illusive Man tended not to live long. But she couldn't tolerate dissent.

"And in your opinion as my security officer, what would you have recommended?" She stood, helmet on level with the man's face. He fidgeted, knowing just how badly this could go for him, but remained where he was. "Well, Mr. Taylor?"

"I don't know, sir, but killing Commander Alenko was overkill."

She laughed—a sound that made Jacob flinch—and leaned forward, hands planted on the desk to support her weight. "I see. And what about when the Commander took his information to C-Sec? To the Council? Our band of merry men would be at a severe disadvantage." When Jacob said nothing, she continued, "And how would you have dealt with him then? I don't have the patience to take prisoners, and I prefer not to encourage more spies. He was an example." Her voice dropped. "The Council will think twice before they send another of their goons into my home."

"I think we'll have to agree to disagree, sir."

Shepard straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. So be it, then. "I see. You feel that strongly about this, Mr. Taylor?"

"I do."

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Then I will give you two options. Either you can put this behind you—my decision has been made—or you can walk away. I will not begrudge you, if you decide to take your leave of the Family. You've been a good man, Jacob. I would hate to lose you over something like this." The sorrow in her voice sounded genuine and she exaggerated the respectful incline of her head under the armor. Disagreement was not something she could afford, and if Taylor was going to be a problem, then she needed to know about it.

Jacob seemed to consider these options carefully, eyes never leaving the armored figure before him. "Thank you, sir. I think I'll take my chance to leave, if it's all the same. I don't want Alliance blood on my hands."

"Very well. I'm sorry to see you go, Mr. Taylor, but please understand…" She discreetly laid a hand on the pistol at her waist, "After you leave here, this decision is final."

"I understand."

She waited until he had turned his back and drew the pistol. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave here knowing what you know." She fired before the man could react, watching him crumble to the floor, blood beginning to spread across the pristine tiles. With a sigh, she tugged the helmet off and opened the comm on her omnitool. "Tali, please send a clean-up crew to my office and request that Lieutenant Williams meet with me as soon as they're finished."

"Yes, ma'am," the quarian replied automatically. Shepard decided she owed some divine power a huge thank you for sending her such a wonderful employee.

"Thank you, Tali. Remind me that I owe you a raise."

"Of course, ma'am."

Shepard returned the armor to the locker, smoothing her dress back down and laid her hand on a second panel. Like the first, it retracted, but instead of an armor locker, this one revealed a second room, smaller than the first, but more lavishly decorated in deep reds and golds. A living space, rather than an office. A bed, large enough for four people, sat at the center of the back wall, flanked by tables bearing candles and flowers. Pills, pouches, and bottles were spread across the table at the foot of the bed and soft music drifted from hidden speakers. An asari lifted her head, turning to face the newcomer before breaking out in a smile.

"You're back," she purred, sitting up and letting the silk sheets pool around her waist. Her eyes followed the human woman's progress into the room as the panel closed behind her.

"I told you I wouldn't be long, Liara," Shepard replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked up a few of the pills, knocking them back quickly. "Just had some loose ends to deal with."

"Mmm, the Illusive Man is cleaning house?"

Shepard chuckled, lifting one of the velvet pouches from the table. "You tell me, Shadow Broker," she teased, taking a pinch of red sand from the bag and quickly inhaling it through her nose. It burned its way through her sinuses and she hissed in a breath through her teeth. She had maybe five minutes before the Hallex kicked in, but the red sand already had her pupils dilated and her heartrate increasing. Her skin tingled with every pulse of blood and she let her head fall back as the drugs began spreading through her system. Liara crawled down the bed to drape her arms around Shepard's shoulders and pressed her lips to the human woman's cheek.

"I was wondering how your decision to kill Spectre Alenko as an example would be received. And the gunshot?"

"Avoiding internal strife."

"I see." Liara smiled, letting her fingers wander up to thread through Shepard's hair. The human woman hummed appreciatively, reclining back against the asari as she teased a few tangles from the long locks. "I always wondered about human hair, you know. No other species has such an… interesting feature. And yours is a particularly intriguing color, Regina." The asari examined the locks, turning them over in the flickering light; the dark strands appeared black in the shadows, and the low light exposed a blood red tint.

"Oh?"

"Yes. And, I've heard, it's an erogenous zone for many as well," Liara continued, moving to scratch her nails along Shepard's scalp.

Shepard shuddered, Hallex amplifying every sensation and red sand making her hyperaware of every minute detail. "Anything else you've learned?" Her voice was barely above a breath, casting the woman a smoldering look from the corner of her eye.

Liara chuckled, removing her hands. "Oh yes, but I have to have some secrets. Information is power, after all, and I make a living out of it."

"Fucking tease," Shepard growled, turning and advanced across the bed toward her. Liara backed up until her back was pressed against the headboard, a small smile pulling at her lip.

"Ma'am, the clean-up crew has finished and Lieutenant Williams is on her way up to your office," Tali chirped, making Shepard groan. Liara bent her head to lick and suck at the human's neck and Shepard growled something unintelligible in the back of her throat.

"Yes, thank you, Tali," she finally grumbled, forcing herself away from the asari in her bed. "This shouldn't take long."

"Actually, I should be going," Liara replied, slipping off of the bed and bending to retrieve her clothing, "Can't leave my networks unattended for too long, else they think I've been ousted. Probably not dissimilar to your status as the Illusive Man." She chuckled. "I will be back, of course, Regina, but I do have my own organization to run. I'll send you a message the next time I'm on the Citadel."

"Leaving me already?" Shepard teased, standing and striding back toward her office.

"Only for the moment."

Shepard chuckled, changing back into the Illusive Man armor again. "I'll hold you to that," she replied, modulator changing her voice. Liara laughed, redoing the clasps of her jacket and moving to stand before her. They moved as one, arms winding around each other in an intimate embrace.

"Good luck, Shepard," she said quietly, "And be safe."

"I can't promise you that, Liara," she replied seriously.

Liara smiled sadly. "I know. But it makes me feel better."

Neither got to say more as the office door whooshed open, admitting a stoic-looking Lieutenant Williams. She paused, but settled into a standard parade rest when she regained her composure. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, thank you for being so… prompt, Ashley," Shepard said, arm still around Liara's waist. "I hope I didn't take you from anything pressing?"

Ashley shifted, looking between the two of them. "N-No, sir," she replied after a pause. It was clear she wasn't sure why she was being treated as an equal, and with politeness, but she recovered quickly. "I assumed it best to be punctual, given the circumstances." She was referring to the Spectre, of course, and Shepard nodded.

"Indeed. Excuse us, love?" she asked, turning to Liara. The asari smiled knowingly and moved away. Their hands lingered for a moment before Liara strode confidently out, breezing past the Lieutenant with a friendly smile. Shepard watched her go before refocusing on the woman in her office and she crossed her arms, leaning back against her desk. "Recent events have prompted Mr. Taylor to pursue a different line of work. And so, I find myself lacking a head of security." She paused. "You were Alliance once, were you not, Ashley?"

"Yes… sir." She seemed to be slow to pull her thoughts away from the asari who had just exited, but Shepard wouldn't hold it against her. The Illusive Man was not someone considered to be romantic.

"Why leave? Your service record was clean; unremarkable, but that never stopped anyone." Shepard could see she'd touched a nerve from the way the Lieutenant stiffened, jaw working back and forth. "I mean no insult, of course, but I'm merely curious. There were no reprimands, or indications you were slated for a dishonorable discharge, yet you resigned your position rather… suddenly."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course, this is not the military. I expect you to think for yourself and tell me." Of course, I also expect you to agree with me. Shepard didn't say as much, but it was the unwritten and well-understood rule of her organization, a rule Jacob had forgotten.

"Thank you. I got tired of the Alliance sticking me with crap postings and ignoring my achievements because of who I was." The woman paused, taking a deep breath. "I left because I knew I could do better, needed to do better."

"Why does who you are matter?" Shepard knew, of course, but building trust by appearing interested was an old and effective tactic for maintaining control and loyalty.

"You… You don't…" Ashley stopped herself and tried again. "My grandfather was… He was the one who surrendered the garrison at Shanxi. The first and only human to ever surrender to an alien force." There was an acid to her voice and she scowled. "My father never got anywhere, despite all of his work, and died underappreciated by a military he loved. And the same thing was happening to me. I left to avoid what my father suffered just for being a Williams. I have a family, sir, and a measly Gunnery Chief's salary was not enough to help support them."

"I apologize. This is clearly something painful for you, Lieutenant. And I understand. But I must also ask if Commander Alenko's death bothers you, as an ex-Alliance soldier." She inclined her head to punctuate the question and noted, with some satisfaction, that Ashley seemed to be seriously considering both the question and her words. Inspiring fear and caution in her people was a point of pride, a true indication of her power.

But Ashley squared her shoulders and stared levelly into the faceplate of the helmet speaking to her. "No, sir. He was a threat to everyone in this organization. I regret that he had to die, but I won't lose any sleep over it knowing I'll live another day."

Shepard chuckled. "My feelings exactly, Lieutenant. And so I have a proposition for you; as I mentioned, I am now lacking a head of security and, with the latest attempt to infiltrate us, I would like to have that position filled. You are a soldier, and very aware of what must be done to maintain the integrity and safety of this organization. So, I would like to offer you the position, along with the raise, office, and enforcement units that come with it. I would be very pleased should you accept, but I also know that, for someone with a family, it is a risk." Even being affiliated with the Family was a risk, yet the show of empathy was enough to make the stoic woman crack a small smile.

"I appreciate your concern, sir, but there's no need. I'd be happy to accept the position."

"Excellent," Shepard said, letting some genuine relief reach her voice. Good, the sooner any remaining holes in her organization were sealed, the safer they would be. She couldn't afford any possible weaknesses. "Your promotion will be on the next wave update. Please, feel free to get settled in your new office. Ms. Zorah will have any relevant information you require, and any concerns may be directed to her." With that, Shepard moved around her desk and took her seat. "I look forward to seeing your plans."

It was a dismissal, albeit a polite one, and the Lieutenant snapped a quick salute before taking her leave. Shepard watched her go, waited a few seconds after the door had closed to sigh and tug the helmet off. Family—real family—always complicated things. How long before Williams realized her position put her family at risk? That just being with the Family put her real family in danger? Her stance on the subject was to forget the whole business; family was a weakness that she could not tolerate in herself, and therefore, felt that her… employees—for lack of a better term—should view their own commitments and relationships in the same fashion. Her omnitool beeped plaintively and she gave it a baleful stare. Speak of the devil.

"What, John?" she growled.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Nice to hear from you, too. I'm great, thanks for asking," she sneered, contemplating the possibility of hanging up on him.

"Don't give me that shit, Regina. You left, that was your choice." Why did he feel the need to try to be reasonable? "And refusing to come back? Our father is dying, and you won't come back to see him, just for an hour?!"

She had wondered when they would find out about that, but her frustration and disinterest made her insolent. "Give me one reason why I should, John."

"Because he's our father!"

"That's not a reason, that's an excuse. He's the one who pushed me away and made me miserable, why should I give him any of my time?" Her lip twisted into a scowl and she rose from her chair to pace across the length of her window. "I didn't get off that pisshole planet just to come crawling back because Daddy asked nicely."

"Will you please just get over your damn pride for once in your life?!"

"No!" She was shaking now. Adrenaline coursed through her body, mingling with the drugs in her system, and she pressed her advantage, riding the rush of chemicals to add strength to her words. "You can tell your damn father that I'm not coming back."

There was a pause and, when her brother spoke again, it was a sullen, desperate whisper. "Please, Gina."

Shepard grit her teeth angrily, fists clenching and unclenching as pulses of blood made her skin tingle. "Don't call me that."

"He wants to apologize."

She scoffed. "He only wants to die with a clear conscience. And it's about fifteen years too late." She shook her head and pursed her lips. "I'm not coming back, John. I don't care what he says, he's still the same bastard that…" Her throat tightened, but she forced it away. No, damn it, she was not going to be weak. "If he wants to apologize, then he can apologize to Mom."

"That's low, Regina," John started but she laughed, callous to his pain.

"That's life, my dear brother. If he loved our family so much, he wouldn't have pushed her so far she had to kill herself to get away from him." Silence greeted her and she sighed. "You always did want to see the best in him John, even when he showed you just how twisted he was, right in front of your face."

"I was thirteen, Gina."

Anger flooded through her and she screamed at him before she had thought about it, "And you still did nothing!" Her high had loosened her tongue, slowed her judgment, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying more, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn it, this was why family always complicated things. "I'm not having this conversation with you again, John. When you decide to take off the rose-colored glasses, tell me, but until then, I have business to take care of." She cut the call before he could say anything more and glared out at the bustling metropolis. She should have just hung up on him as soon as she'd picked up the call, saved herself the trouble… Their conversations were never surprising, they never deviated from the same topics and progressions, yet she kept giving him a chance to tell her something different… Why? She could never think of a good reason; she didn't care about familial love and devotion—she had none—and yet she couldn't sever ties with her brother the way she had her father. Maybe, she always told herself, there was still hope for him, yet she could never be sure of that. Was it worth trying?

She shook her head and returned to her desk, pulling up the holoscreen to check the updates of their latest shipments.

The entirety of C-Sec was silent as the video cut out, leaving nothing but static and white noise. No one made a sound, all eyes still riveted to the empty screens. They had all just witnessed a murder, and not just a run-of-the-mill murder down in the Wards, but the murder of a Spectre. That knowledge hung oppressively over the entire force.

"Officer Vakarian, my office!"

Pallin's voice cut through the air like a knife and Garrus jerked his gaze away from the screens to see the Executor staring down from the top of the stairs leading to his office. The man's expression was blank, but barely-bridled fury rolled off of him in waves and Garrus cringed internally. This was not going to be a fun conversation. Damn the Family. Fearful stares settled on him as he trudged toward the door Pallin had just stormed through, trying to ignore the muted whispers as he passed. Did they think he was getting fired? The Family wasn't even his case, Chellick was the one who was supposed to be helping the Spectre before he had gone missing over a week ago…

He stepped into the Executor's office and immediately felt the charge of the atmosphere; Pallin was glowering into the middle-distance over the tops of his interlaced fingers and Chellick was standing off to one side looking like he was facing a firing squad. Oh, this was going to be fantastic. Garrus's mandibles twitched nervously, but he forced himself into a strong stance, hands locked behind his back.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"What are you going to do about the Family?"

Garrus blinked, sure he had misheard, and looked to Chellick. The Family was the detective's case, why was the Executor asking him? But Chellick was staring at the floor, jaw tight; that wasn't a good sign.

"Sir?"

"I need you to begin an investigation into the criminal syndicate known as the Family," Pallin said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child, and fixed Garrus with a hard stare, "The Council will want to know that we've made progress into stopping them, especially now that they've lost another Spectre. So, what are you going to do?"

"I thought Detective Chellick—"

"Officer Chellick is no longer on that case," Pallin cut in tartly, and Garrus could see Chellick flinch, "I need your full attention on this matter, so you have been removed from the patrol roster and transferred to the Investigation Unit. An office will be made available to you."

"But I'm still working on the Saleon case, I might have a lead on—"

"The Family is your top priority, Detective. Forget the salarian. The Council wants something done about those criminals and, until they are stopped, you are to devote all of your time and resources to bringing them down, am I understood?"

Garrus bristled, but held his tongue. It was unorthodox, but he'd finally gotten the promotion he'd been chasing for years. But at what cost? No one else cared enough to stop that salarian bastard, and he was just supposed to let it go? Chellick knew more about the Family than he did, why not leave him on the case? Yes, his investigation had hit a snag, but he was far more familiar with the case. But he got a Spectre killed. That had to be it; the Council was pressuring Pallin to punish Chellick and get results. Damn them.

"Yessir," he finally bit out.

"Good. I suggest you start immediately." That was it. No congratulations, no good luck, just a nod and a dismissal. Great. Garrus cast a sympathetic look in Chellick's direction before making his escape; he didn't want to be around when Pallin finally started dealing with the other officer. Sure enough, as soon as the doors had closed, Garrus could hear Pallin begin tearing into the other turian detective and flinched; he wouldn't wish that tongue lashing on his worst enemies.

But, Pallin wanted results, and he wanted them yesterday, so Garrus knew he didn't have time to think on it. His strides were long as he started back toward his desk on the main floor. The labyrinth of furniture and officers was abuzz again, people shouting, answering calls, and waving datapads frantically; he wouldn't miss the commotion of the public office space. From what he could gather of the chaos, a lot of people wanted to know what C-Sec was going to do about the synidcate's latest actions; lots of damage control. He was glad he wouldn't have to deal with that part of the investigation anymore. Still… did he even want this case? C-Sec had been after the Family for years—he was sure his father had dealt with them when he was in C-Sec—and yet they still knew next to nothing about the elusive syndicate. The Illusive Man was still firmly in power—whoever he was—and, if anything, their operations seemed to be expanding, growing in strength. What could he do to stop them that hadn't already been done? He haphazardly threw the contents of his desk into a box, earning a few inquisitive glances, as he was lost in his thoughts. What was Pallin expecting him to do? Crack the case wide open in a day? Chellick had been working on the case for months before the Council assigned the Spectre to help—even after the first Spectre, Nihlus, failed—and they still knew next to nothing. Damn it, this was a hopeless assignment! He was going to fail before he'd even started!

"Pallin gave you the boot, huh?"

Garrus looked up sharply and the human officer gave him a sympathetic nod toward the box. Oh. He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"Sorry Lang, but you can't get rid of me that easily. Pallin's moving me to Investigation, wants me to take over Chellick's case on the Family." Even saying it out loud didn't sound real. Why did this have to happen now?

Eddie Lang raised a brow. "Really? He's probably giving Chellick a good ass kicking." At Garrus's grimace he shuddered. "That bad?"

"There isn't enough medigel in the galaxy." Neither said anything for a moment before Garrus spoke again. "Chellick will probably be down here once Pallin gets through with him, best not to mention… any of this."

"Shit, Pallin demoted him too? I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised but… Damn. The Council must want his head, bad."

Garrus nodded, tossing the last of his personal effects into the box. "Well, I've gotta… Spirits, I don't know. Figure out where to start, I guess." He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do.

"Well, if we can help you, Garrus…" Eddie shrugged. "Let us know."

"Sure thing." Garrus gave a small twitch of his mandibles into the turian equivalent of a smile and Eddie returned it.

"Good luck, birdman."

"You too, pyjak." They shook hands briefly before Garrus made his way back out of the chaotic throng and up toward the Investigation Unit's offices. Up here, the chaos was muted and distant, each office a self-contained universe devoted entirely to solving one specific crime. How many of them were looking into the Family, as he had been tasked to do? He caught sight of a salarian maintenance worker fussing with one of the doors and drew nearer; it wasn't the door he was working on, but the nameplate. Chellick's name fell from the wall with a dull clang and the salarian set about affixing Garrus's name, complete with his new title, in its place. And yet it didn't fill him with any sense of pride or accomplishment; it felt hollow. It was then that the salarian noticed him staring sullenly at the plate and offered a smile.

"Congratulations, sir."

Garrus could only grunt absently as he stepped into the pristine space. Chellick's belongings had already been cleared out, yet Garrus still felt as if he were trespassing. Why assign him to this case? He'd clashed with Pallin over the investigation into Saleon—hell, Pallin had told him to quit if he hated the restrictions so much—so why promote him? He set his box on the desk and sighed. The idea of starting from square one on this case made him want to bang his head against the wall, but instead he threw himself into the desk chair and cued up the console. Immediately, all of the data and files on the Family began downloading and he stared as document after document popped up. Well, it was better than square one… With a sigh, he settled in for a very long read.

Let me know what you guys think!