In which Kolyat does it anyway

Kolyat wove through the crowds on the Citadel, keeping his eyes on his target. Turian. Tall motherfuckers, easy to track in a crowd. After this was done, he would have to move quickly. But if he moved too quickly, his father wouldn't be able to find him. How to make sure he was gone before the authorities caught up, without making it impossible for his dad to locate him?

You'll figure it out later. Right now, you need to focus on what you're doing.

His hand touched his pistol through the coat, making sure it was still there. He knew he had to pay attention. The turian bastard had bodyguards; if he wasn't careful, he ran the risk of getting shot himself.

But he hadn't seen his father in three years. It was difficult to think about anything but that. Especially when he had only just found out his mother was lying about him not keeping in contact.

He touched the tiny carved figurine from Rakhana that he'd slipped into his pocket. Back in his rented room, Kolyat had an entire box of little gifts shoved under the bed. All things his dad had sent over the last couple of years. Things she'd taken away.

Like she took his father away.

Ahead of him, the turian disappeared into a building, and Kolyat picked up his pace. If he lost him, he might not get another chance. It was supposed to be tonight, and he had to do this correctly.

When the turian appeared again, Kolyat breathed a sigh of relief. The turian and both hired krogan turned, this time heading into an apartment complex. There were no crowds, here.

This is my chance.

He raised his weapon to fire.

"Kolyat!" someone screamed.

He flinched; it sounded just like his mother. He fired, but missed his target. And now the turian was ducking, running. The krogan had their weapons out, ready to kill him.

Had to ruin just one more thing, didn't you, Irikah? Kolyat snarled to himself.

He quickly dropped both the krogan, painful knee shots to put them on the ground. They'd get up again, but he only needed a moment; he sprinted in after the turian, boots tracking through the krogan blood.

"On your knees," Kolyat growled.

Hurried footsteps behind him as the turian dropped to the floor, hands already on his long, sweeping crest. Kolyat moved quickly, positioning himself behind the turian. Tall motherfucker's good for something. They wouldn't be able to get a clear shot.

The people chasing him burst into the room, and Kolyat finally got a glimpse of them. Some redheaded bitch he didn't know, followed closely by ….

"Dad?" Kolyat whispered.

"Kolyat, please. Let him go. Put the gun down." Thane Krios, looking older and much more tired than the last time he saw him. Thane Krios, with his voice trembling and his hands up, pleading.

Thane Krios, a broken man.

My mother did this to him. Years of rage had burned to nothing but embers by now, and he couldn't feel it anymore. He had hoped to find his father, not some … shell.

I was too late. I'm sorry, Father. Grief, he could feel. The gun grew heavy in his hand, sagging down, away from a kill shot. What was the point? He'd found his father, but his father wasn't there anymore.

Her gun trained on him, the redhead spoke, his mother's voice lecturing him from that pink human mouth. "You don't want to do this, Kolyat."

As she spoke, Thane flinched, and Kolyat knew not to listen.

The gun snapped back up as if of its own accord, the turian crying out as it dug into the sensitive spot under his crest.

I won't let you do it to me, too, Kolyat thought, and he pulled the trigger.