Author's Note:

Hey guys, this is my first attempt at a ME story. I have lots in store for this, but this is just something I banged out once the idea seized me. I'm sorry that it may come off as a bit inconsistent - too frivolous at times, and too "dramatic" at others. I'm working on it. If you have any questions - why the AI, how did he get there in two years from nothing, etc, trust me, they will be answered. Just maybe not in the way you'd expect.

That said, enjoy! I don't know how often I can update this thing, but we'll see how it turns out. Please leave a review, it really helps me improve my writing.

One last note - this is not going to be a fic where my character is badass and kills lots of things. In fact, he won't be on Shepard's ground team at all. But that doesn't mean he won't find some clever way to get around that and still change things behind the scenes...

I woke up with a groan, my alarm beeping insistently. I rolled over in bed, slapping at where I guessed it would be at my bedside in order to shut it up. After a moment of useless flailing, I reluctantly opened my eyes a small crack. It was dark in the room, but my eyes adjusted almost instantly, allowing me to see the bare concrete walls. It took me a moment to remember where I was.

"Ugh," I groaned as I sat up in bed, the shrill sound still ringing in my ears. "I should choose a less annoying alarm later."

Instantly, a voice with slightly synthesized undertones spoke up in my head. "I chose that sound in particular because I knew it would annoy the hell out of you."

"Christ, Max, at least give me some warning before you go about messing with the settings of my alarm," I replied, opening up my omnitool with subtle twitch of my fingers and navigating to the alarm function. I quickly pulled some sound files from the extranet and uploaded them into the program. "There. Much better."

"Friday by Rebecca Black? And you thought my alarm was annoying? You really are a masochist."

"Bite me," I shot back, quickly pulling on my clothes. "Besides, it isn't nearly as bad as everyone makes it out to be."

"But it's still pretty bad."

"Yeah, yeah, get off it, will you?"

Max faked a ridiculously exaggerated gasp, like the kind one would make when discovering something particularly scandalous. "Don't tell me you like that song, do you?"

"Max, if I were you, I would shut up right now before I rip out that damn implant and mute your ass." I had pulled that card countless times before, and we both knew that it was an empty threat.

"Touchy, touchy!" He laughed. To his credit, he did immediately drop the subject. Knowing Max, however, I would guess that he would find a way to bring it up again later.

After I was fully dressed, I looked around me at the bare room. Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor all made of bland concrete, with a small light installed at the top. Most of the space was taken up by the bed, reminding me of some of the French hotels I had been to (seriously, those rooms are small). After making sure I had left nothing behind, I picked up my bag of belongings rummaged through it, pulling out a small device that I carefully placed next to the light. After I was satisfied that it was inconspicuous enough, I closed the backpack and shouldered it.

"You know the drill, Max. Call in the sanitation team, tell them I want this place scrubbed to an inch of its life. Put every camera in a 100-metre radius on loop for the next hour, and use a subroutine to monitor that bug to make sure that the s-team does a proper job. Got that?"

"Dude, you're like my mom sometimes. I got it after the first time a few months ago. I don't need a reminder."

"You don't have a mom, you're an AI, and besides-" I stopped, suddenly self-conscious. I was speaking out loud to a voice in my head that no one else could hear. If anyone was watching, I would have seemed insane.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could read your thoughts. That way you wouldn't have to talk out loud to communicate with me. Wait, I take that back. I don't want to see your thoughts. It'd probably be full of porn and other shit all the time."

I grinned in spite of myself. Max always gave me shit, and I must seem insane when I talked to him, but we was my only friend and I somewhat enjoyed the bickering we always settled into. But I would never admit that to him.

"That's bullshit, you of all –erm– people should know that I have lots of other important things to think about."

"OK, what's this, then?" He asked, superiority practically dripping from his tone. He even added paper-rustling sound effects to drive it home. "Fornax volume number 89, 5 credits. Asari Confessions 26: True Blue, 10 credits. Azure Allure, 7 cred-"

"Fine, I get it! Jesus, why did I ever install a personality for you if you're just going to fuck around like that?" I reddened as I realized what I had said.

"You walked right into that one."

I was about to respond before my omnitool beeped. It was 19:76, Galactic Standard Time. Shit, I thought, I can't be late. I quickly stepped out of the dingy little room and into the sound and lights show that was Shin Akiba.

I walked quickly, keeping my head down as I passed the ghetto's denizens. Nothing to see here, just a scrawny 16 year-old with a backpack, an AI implanted into his head, and cybernetic eyes! Please, go back to your drinking/drugging/mugging or whatever you do normally.

I scanned the crowd briefly, trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible as the HUD built into my artificial retina tagged and identified anyone it could. Bored, I focused on one in particular, a batarian who was talking animatedly to a human next to a small store. The HUD tagged him as a Parn Rogpess. As I walked past, I brought up all the information I had on him. His picture, taken from when he first arrived at the Citadel, along with his details appeared in the corner of my vision so I could continue to see my surroundings as I read. I was surprised by how much information there was about him. I had at least a little bit on most people, but this guy had pages and pages of scrolling text. At the top, Agent Rika was identified as the one who had garnered all of this information over the course of a week.

I had hardly begun to read when Max stuck his (figurative) head in again. "Ah, once again using your infinite knowledge and information for the good of the galaxy, eh, Enigma?"

I rolled my eyes. He would never let that one go. I muttered to him under my breath. "You know I only had a second to come up with it. It's not that bad of a name. Besides, this guy has a lot of info on him. I have to know what about him is so important that one of my top agents spent a week following him."

"Yeah, yeah. You justify it all you want, but deep down you love having this much power and information."

"Christ, when did you become a psychologist?" I snapped, loud enough to get some sideways glances from some nearby pedestrians. Mercifully, Max remained silent.

I began to scroll through Rogpess' dossier. The first thing that stood out was his birthplace – Khar'shan. That's weird, I thought, the Hegemony almost never lets anyone leave. What's this guy's story? I quickly skimmed it over. It seemed that his parents were taken to a labour camp for spreading dissent, and, as a boy, Rogpess was taken to an orphanage. When he grew up, he got a job as a dockworker. Eventually he had to service his first slave ship. Apparently, he was infuriated by the treatment of the slaves and freed them by stealing the ship. He managed to make it out of the Terminus and into Alliance space without being shot down. The Alliance welcomed him with open arms, hailing him as a hero for returning over a hundred human slaves home. He was promised asylum anywhere in Alliance Space, but declined the offer, stating that he wished to travel to the Citadel and start a group that could "combat the atrocities that some members of [his] own species participate in".

I closed the window and opened a new message, addressing it to Agent Rika. I praised her for how thorough the information was, and hinted at a bonus if she continued to bring me such quality results. I also tasked her with finding out more about the heavily classified Kar'shan from Rogpess. There were very few batarians who managed escaped from the Hegemony, and the Alliance would pay top dollar for anything that could shed light on the Batarian homeworld. I also advised her to use Rogpess' hate of the slave trade to convince him to give up the information. I saved the message and (mentally) hit send. One of Max's subroutines automatically encrypted the message and used one of over 1000 random voice synthesizers for the orders. In this case, he had appeared to have chosen "Asari #69".

I didn't even bother to respond to his crude attempt at humour, and continued walking. I had places to be. To any casual observer, I was just some poor duct rat wandering the streets, hoping to scavenge something to eat, or some credits to put towards his next high. But in reality, I was Enigma, the most powerful information broker on the Citadel - whose network had begun to rival that of even the Shadow Broker himself.

Enigma began as a tiny whisper in the dark – he someone you could go to for reliable information without a steep price tag. However, as my network and influence grew, so did my reputation. People call me many things. A man who knows everything about everyone on the Citadel. A woman who would not hesitate to sell out her own friends and family if she thought she could profit from it. A group of puppeteers secretly in control of everything that happens on the entire station. You name it.

They would never guess the truth – that the information broker they all whispered and talked about was just a 16 year-old human boy. Me. I am not motivated by credits. I was simply biding my time, waiting for events that I knew would occur. Who I used to be is irrelevant now. I am someone to be respected. I am someone to be feared.

I am Enigma. And I am not from this world.