As Shepard stepped up to the galaxy map, she heard Kelly pipe up, "The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you, Commander."

The Commander suppressed a groan, remembering what happed the last two times that had happened. Resigning herself to fate, she made her way to the briefing room and activated the quantum entanglement communicator. When the link established itself, Shepard was met with the familiar sights of the Illusive Man's office: the blue-shifting star (which she noted had fewer red-orange spots than there were the last time), the array of computer screens in front of it, and the man himself, sitting in the room's only chair, smoking line a chimney, as always. "Shepard, I know it's late in the game, and you're almost ready to take on the Collectors, but I have found two more mercenaries to add to your team. They specialize in protectorate contracts and unorthodox weaponry and tactics, all of which you might need."

"How 'unorthodox' are we talking?"

"One of them wields a flaming sword."

Shepard made a show of using her pinkie to clean out one of her ear. "Sorry, I must have heard that wrong. I thought you said a flaming sword." When his expression didn't change, she folded her arms to ensure she didn't plant her palms against her face. "You're joking."

He brought up an image on one of the monitors. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

The image depicted a being in a massive suit of winter-camouflaged armor cleaving a Blood Pack krogan in half with the aforementioned flaming sword. This time, she couldn't stop her facepalm. "Jesus guddamn Christ." She sighed, looked up for a moment, and then met TIM's gaze again. "Alright. Where are they and what do I have to go through to recruit them?"

He knocked the latest accumulation of ash off the end of his cigarette. "Head to Omega and meet with their agent in Afterlife; he goes by the title 'Scholar.' You just need to close the deal to hire them. And, unlike Zaeed and Kasumi, there is no special favor you have to take care of for them; I personally made sure of it."

She glared at the Illusive Man, trying to discern the lie, or at least the catch. When she came up empty, she sighed and turned away. "Fine. Joker, chart a course for Omega."

With that, she retired to her quarters; she had a bottle to nurse after this.

The journey to Omega was spent studying the pair of dossiers. To say that they contained little concrete information would be like saying Khaje was wet: the understatement of the millennium, and about half of what little they did have made Shepard glad for the brandy she had. TIM's people hadn't even been able to determine what race the mercenaries were or their names. Instead, they had callsigns. One was a woman who went by "Wanderer," and the other was a man whose designation was "Courier." Courier seemed to be the more skilled of the two, while Wanderer had the greater raw ability.

Their titles also rather accurately described their primary combat styles, with Wanderer being a vicious close-quarters combat warrior who "wandered" the battlefield to ensure she remained in melee range of as many enemies as she could, and Courier was a deliverer of mid- to long-range death. That wasn't to say that they were helpless outside of their specialties. Nothing could be further from the truth. They both wielded various melee and, bizarrely, pre-mass effect ballistic weaponry.

Their armor was unusual, seeming to lack any kind of kinetic barriers and making up for it with sheer thickness of plate.

Unfortunately, that was pretty much everything Cerberus knew about the two mercenaries by the time Shepard walked into Afterlife flanked by Garrus and Zaeed. With a resigned sigh, she walked up to Aria's little "throne room." When she arrived, the Queen of Omega gestured toward Shepard's usual seat, and the Commander sat down. "So, what do you need my help with, this time?"

"I'm supposed to be meeting with the agent for a pair of mercenaries, here. He goes by 'Scholar.'"

"He's in the same room where the three merc companies were recruiting for the assault against Archangel."

Shepard nodded and stood up. "Thanks."

"A word of advice, Shepard: Watch yourself around him; there's something about him that feels… off, like he shouldn't exist."

"I'll keep that in mind." She waved to her two squad-mates. "Let's go."

When they entered the room, Shepard saw that the layout was a little bit different. Instead of a console directly in front of the door, there was a table near the back, behind which sat a massive figure cloaked in both shadows and brown cloth. Otherwise, they were alone.

"Well, isn't this ominous?" Shepard muttered as her hand drifted toward her pistol.

"Peace, Shepard. I do not wish conflict with you. I apologize for the theatrics, but people have a tendency to shoot my kind first and ask questions never. Admittedly, many of my kind tend to leave a bad first impression. I hope neither happens here."

While she didn't draw the weapon, her hand still hovered near her pistol. Christ, his voice is deep. Almost like… "Are you a yahg?"

"Scholar" chuckled. "No, although my kind are similar to theirs in a great number of ways. However, I believe we are here for a reason other than speaking of my race." Part of his cloak billowed toward a seat in front of the table. "Please, sit."

"Right. If it's alright with you, I'd prefer to stand over here."

Somehow, she didn't know how, Shepard knew that he was smirking in those shadows. "I fully understand. A warrior would rather not surrender what control they have in an unfamiliar situation."

She frowned, but decided to cut straight to the chase. "So, about our business, I assume TIM sent you the contract details?"

"'TIM?'"

"The Illusive Man. It's an acronym I decided to use because that's too long to say."

"Oh. Ha ha. Yes, he did, but I would rather hear you describe it."

This, Shepard hadn't expected. Still, she recovered quickly. "We're going up against nigh-impossible odds to defeat a race of aliens who want nothing less than the extermination of humanity. They have advanced technology and superior numbers. Everyone in the entire galaxy considered this to be a 'suicide mission,' but I hate those odds. So I'm gathering the best of the best to stack the deck enough in our favor to ensure we kick their asses and all come home alive to tell about it."

There was the barest hint of a head bobbing in a way similar to a nod. "Well said. We're in, and we'll meet you at your ship in two hours."

Shepard tilted her head quizzically. "'We?' Are you coming with us, too? We don't have room for noncombatants."

"Oh, there will be no danger of that happening. I may be a scholar, Commander Shepard…" Scholar leaned forward, the light revealing a reptilian muzzle filled with large, jagged teeth. "…but I am also a warrior who has walked through hell and come back alive once before." He stood and offered a hand to Shepard… a scaly hand tipped with claws the size of scimitars. "Though you did not ask it, we will be fighting side by side, and it would not do to not know my name. Goris."

Apprehensively, Shepard accepted the handshake, his "hand" wrapping around hers with a surprising level of gentleness. "Ilyana."

"A beautiful name, and a pleasure to meet you, Ilyana."

With that, the two parties parted ways. After a few moments, Garrus cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "So, anyone else getting a creepy 'deal with evil spirits' kind of vibe with that guy, or was that just me?"

Zaeed shook his head. "You're not the only one. Bloody hell, what was 'e?"

"I don't know." Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "As for that vibe, I've had it ever since TIM brought me back. Christ, I need a drink."