Just an idea that has been jumbling around in my head for a while. Give it a looksie. Might become a full fledged series, might just stay a oneshot.

Desolas Arterius wiped at his plated brow. He, like all turians, couldn't sweat, so the gesture was futile in cleaning anything, though it did help relieve his stress, and there was plenty of that. Perhaps it was the yellow klaxons flashing, hurting his and everyone else's eyes as they strained to see in the inconsistent light. Or maybe it was the alarms ringing in the background, setting the ship's crew on edge with their electric warble. Or, and much more likely, it was the whole Spirits-damned debacle that had become of the invasion.

Two weeks ago, his patrol group had encountered a new species attempting to reactivate Relay 314. Since this was a violation of Citadel Law, and the Relay was firmly within Citadel space, Desolas had moved to stop them. Communication was difficult, and it resulted in shots being fired. The turian general had been, at the time, absolutely convinced it was they who had shot first, but there had been so much difficulty, trying to talk to the aliens, and trying to keep his own fleet in order, then there was the manner in which the alien ships were moving. The general had difficulty determining whether they were showing hostile intent or not, it was entirely possible that one of his commanders had made a mistake.

It mattered little in the end. The alien ships around the relay were quickly dispatched, save one that tried to flee back through it. Arterius gave the order to follow, and found what was likely a colony. He hadn't pressed the invasion, instead relaying what had transpired back to Palaven, looking for instructions from the Hierarchy. He had gotten them, and nearly thirty more vessels. His orders were to cripple or destroy any vessels in orbit, and establish a foothold in these 'human's' territory. Funnily enough, there happened to be no mention of the Council's involvement, almost as if the Hierarchy was looking to subjugate a species without anyone's interference.

None of that had mattered at the time, however, as Desolas was a soldier, and soldiers followed orders, regardless of any ethical quandaries. And so he had commenced. Wiping the defense fleet out, though not without some difficulty. These 'humans', and, as it turns out, at least three other sentient races, though they all seemed to be fundamentally the same, were quick thinking, and adaptable, and had made life difficult for the turians, destroying two cruisers and half a dozen frigates with their meager might. Still, they were outnumbered and outgunned, there was nothing they could do to stop the turians from taking the system.

The ground forces had a harder go. Reports of human infantry using weapons that fired projectiles the size of the standard mass accelerator ammo block. Kinetic barriers and traditional armor had been useless against such armament. Then there were the biotics or tech specialists or whatever they were. Capable of conjuring fire and lightning out of thin air. Desolas had seen visual reports of these abilities, and the veteran soldier of nearly a hundred battles with all known species had never, ever, seen anything like it. To make matters worse, the alien's intuition in space warfare had extended to the ground, ambushes and pincer movements made any pushes into major population centers nearly impossible, until the Hierarchs gave him permission to use orbital bombardment.

Once civilians started dying, attacks on his own troops dropped off dramatically, but attacks on the general's conscience began in earnest. Batarian pirate tactics used by a Hierarchy fleet, it was disgraceful, and he and every other turian on this cursed expedition knew it. But they were good turians, and they followed orders.

For nearly a week, afterward, they had had relative peace, though any ground patrol, air patrol, search party, and rescue team that had been sent into the forested area to the east of the smallest major city had never returned. Orbital images were somehow being distorted, despite the lack of any jamming signal emanating from the woods. What images they did manage to get at the forests edge, painted a gruesome scene. Some sort of floral tendrils sprouting from the ground and impaling his soldiers, splitting their hardsuits like they were wearing paper, splitting them open and spraying blue blood all over the wooded area.

Then there were the hills to the south, small, impish creatures the humans apparently called 'nekkers' had been waylaying ground patrols. Seemingly capable of memorizing their patterns, and attacking them when patrols were furthest apart, and eating any they managed to kill. The small creatures were also very hard to kill. Too quick to get a good shot at them, and capable of surviving multiple hits and still be effective combatants. The only good thing about them were that they needed to get close to use their claws, and once there, they were far weaker then your average turian, and easily cut up by sharp knives.

But those problems were soon secondary, as well over sixty human vessels jumped into system. Their weapons were underpowered, their barriers weak, and their ships small, but their numbers superior, and so the Hierarchy had been whittled down, though not without giving as good as they got. The debris from scores of human and turian ships littered orbital space, though only four turian vessels, all badly damaged, remained, while the humans had over two dozen still battle ready.

Then there was the boarding party.

No confirmed reports on numbers, or combat type. Just that whatever it was, was moving through the ship at a blistering pace. The screams from the engine rooms still rang through Arterius' head, though the sounds had already died from the intercom. There had been almost no gunshots that weren't from mass accelerators, but the sound of something whistling through the air, and the screams that followed, were plentiful.

"Sir," one of the soldiers standing on the bridge called for his attention, "Sensors show movement on the other side of the blast door."

Desolas steeled himself, a true turian served with distinction, even to the end. Especially to the end.

"How many signatures?"

"… one."

That didn't sound right. There had been a dozen soldiers that had been tasked with defending engineering, and now they were all dead. For one human soldier to have taken them out, not possible. It could be that he was the only survivor, but it wouldn't make any sense for the only remaining human soldier to push onwards to the most heavily fortified area of the ship, particularly when they had already crippled the vessel.

"Keep your eyes on your motion trackers!" the general shouted, "I doubt this one came alone! They could be flanking us!"

"Sir, the door!"

Desolas looked at the hologram in the center of the thick slab of steel. It was red, as the general and his bridge crew had locked it to deny the human boarders easy access. Then, right before Arterius' eyes, the hologram flickered, a haze coming over it before distorting and forming a white triangle. The image flickered again, turning green as the metal smoothly slid open, a cloud of smoke billowing through.

"Open fire!"

The alarms were drowned out by the thunderous roar of mass accelerator fire, the yellow lights overpowered by the bright muzzle flashes, and Desolas' headache magnified by many magnitude. The smoke that concealed the figure beyond pulsed and gyrated as the hypersonic rounds slashed through it, but it was not dissipating quickly. Only by the time the last round fired and the roar of gunfire was replaced by the steading beeping of overheated rifles did the smoke clear enough for the turians to see their target.

The first thing apparent about the alien, was that he was unharmed, and surrounded by an orange barrier, the second thing Arterius noticed, was the yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

So enraptured by the vertical pupils, that he did not notice the small object flying forth from the human's hand. He did notice it when it exploded, blinding him and his fellow soldiers in a great flash and deafening them in a booming crash.

The general felt his body getting pushed on by the bodies around him, he could feel the vibrations on the deck beneath his feet, and even faintly hear the cries of those by his side. But it was what his eyes, marvelous products of evolution they were, could make out after quickly adapting to the miniature sun that had so briefly existed on the deck that would haunt him to his death. And judging by what they saw, it likely would not be long.

The snake eyed human, dressed in some sort of black armor graced with metal studs, moved with a speed and grace belonging to an asari huntress. In a flash of gleaming silver, a blade, a sword really, appeared in his hands as he rushed into the first line of turians. Metallic blue blood sprayed upon the ceiling of the bridge as the first man he reached, was shown first hand how sharp that silver colored blade was, and how Hierarchy officer uniforms was insufficient protection.

The second soldier grabbed his knife, though it did him little good as the hand clutching the blade fell to the deck before a silver razor edge split the skin of his throat.

An officer near Desolas managed to raise her sidearm, but the human seemed to omniscient, as, faster than even a completely alert turian would ever be able to track, produced a huge pistol and squeezed off two shots. The officer hadn't even had a chance to really aim, just raise it to shoulder height, before two giant slugs punched through her chest, splattering the control panels not just with her blood but with the many chunks of solid matter that had been pulled through by the balls of hot lead.

Silver flashed again as a charging soldier lost his legs, the durable blade cleaving through the joints of the hard suit and dropping the unfortunate man to the ground, screaming. Just in time for the general's hearing to come back as well.

Three turians aimed their weapons at once, and the human made a gesture with his hand, a powerful force lifting all three off the ground and sending their weapons scattering across the bridge.

The tall and broad human dropped the silver blade as he himself fell to his knee as he drew two great pistols, booming shots that rent flesh, and scattered blood. As bodies dropped, the human rolled forward, bringing the blade back to bear as he once again cut down good turian, after good turian.

Finally, all that was left was the general himself, face to face with this creature that had slain so many. The last turian to fight to his death, Desolas raised his side arm, only for the silver sword to slap it out of his hand.

The tall human came close, sword tip at the turians throat when his free hand made another odd gesture. The general's vision blurred, his mind became fuzzy, but only briefly, before the warrior spoke.

"Do you understand me?"

Shock should have overcome Arterius, but considering all that he had seen over the past two weeks, miraculous translation didn't phase him in the slightest. Instead, the general steeled himself for interrogation.

"General Arterius, 303rd Recon Fleet, Serial Number…"

"So I'll take that as a yes." The human said dryly before pulling his helmet off, bringing the striking yellow eyes into clearer view, along with three diagonal scars across his face and short black fur going from the top of his head to wrap around his chin. Something else dropped out, a medallion, in the form of some snarling beast.

"Since you've introduced yourself, allow me to do the same. Shepard of Undvik… Witcher."

…

Fucking salarians. They just couldn't leave well enough alone. Every time some new and exciting tech came along, you could leave it to those amphibious bastards to find its worst possible application, and start churning it out by the megaton. Just ask Garm's people, the krogan are a dying race thanks to the spineless fucks, neutering their entire species all because they couldn't cope with the consequences of their mistakes like everyone else.

Now another one of their mistakes was plaguing Omega. Just as they couldn't leave tech alone, the ancestor's cursed piles of varren shit couldn't leave those fucking monsters humans had brought with them alone. They had poked, prodded, and accidentally seeded the beasts across the stars as the creatures they transported proved to be much more difficult to contain than anticipated. There was a batarian colony Garm had been at just a year ago where every four eyed fuck had been eviscerated, literally torn to shreds. The weird thing about it had been the location of the bodies.

When Garm's Blood Pack had arrived, hired by the scummy little aliens to protect them, they had discovered that all of the killings were taking place in the wilderness beyond the compound. There was never any sign of a struggle, either at the sight of the killing, nor at the residence of the victims. Instead, the security logs showed night after night, a batarian would stiffen up before shambling out into the wilderness, only to be seen when someone went looking for them the next morning and found them shredded to fine confetti.

So the Krogan Battlemaster had decided to simply follow the next batarian to shamble out into the wilderness, and kill whatever beast came to devour them…

Ten krogan died that night, torn to shreds and devoured by a beast the size of a tomkah, with antlers that were capable of tearing through steel, powerful limbs that could crush a krogan underfoot and propel the beast to alarming speeds, fangs that could rip the brow plate right off his warriors' heads, and that eye. Huge, red, and glowing. Garm had looked into its depths, and ran.

The battlemaster had done his research then, looking into anything that could give him an edge over these supernatural beings, and found only one solution. Got a monster problem?

"Hire a witcher."

"Excuse me?" Aria T'loak looked at him sharply from her throne. The asari bitch thought herself high and mighty. She'd be nothing but a stain on the ground and a pile of shit if she had had to face the Fiend of Buurak.

The other merc leaders looked at him with the same sense of incredulity that was present in the Queen of Omega's voice, but the normally prickly and prideful Garm didn't care what they thought of him in this situation. Whatever it was, the battlemaster had no intention of fighting it himself, or getting all his men killed.

"Witchers, human warriors that specialize in killing these monsters," the krogan stared his red eyes straight into Aria's purple ones, "Cuz that's what you got here… some sort of monster."

"Fairytales are getting to you Garm," the spineless shit in Blue Suns armor laughed, the fucking four eyes was as stupid as the rest of his pathetic species, "Probably just a roided up krogan running around. Got a little hungry and played with his food."

The man in charge of the Blue Suns, a grizzled human that Garm almost liked, if he hadn't been so annoying, quickly turned and smacked his subordinate across the face, hard. The batarian fell down the stairs, knocking his head against the wall of the landing and finally staying quiet.

"Fucking moron," Zaeed muttered before looking back up, "Garm is right, as much as I hate to turn down some credits, they don't do me any good if me and my whole crew is dead. Hire a witcher, and this problem will be over before you can tell him your number one rule. I can even recommend a good one."

"Ridiculous," salarians never learned from their own hubris, and Dok was no exception, the quadless Eclipse commander was openly sneering at his betters, "This is some out of control junkie that needs to be put down. But since neither of you seem keen on collecting easy credits, I'll not try and dissuade you from competing for them."

Aria laughed that beautiful, deadly laugh, "Amazing, the salarian is the only one with any spine. Go ahead Dok, payment once I get a head…"

…

The next morning, both Garm and Zaeed were back with Aria, though this time it wasn't in that loud and claustrophobic club Afterlife. No, this time they were in the bowels of Omega, looking at what the mercs could only presume were the remains of Eclipse mercs.

"Pieces of skin, pulverized bone, chewed up organs, none of them even remotely close to a shape resembling a body."

Aria, it seemed, was not impressed, "Excellent detective work, Massani, any other deductions?"

The human wasn't phased as he continued, "No blood, except for smudges where whatever was licking it up couldn't quite lap it up. In my unprofessional opinion, we should probably get out of this thing's hunting grounds before it starts getting hungry again."

"I don't suppose either of you would be willing try this job," the Queen of Omega asked, frustration clear in her voice.

"Credits are no good dead," Garm answered for the both of them, "And this," he gestured to the scattered pieces of salarian, asari, turian, and human, "is not a good death."

Aria T'loak looked pissed, and out of her element. This was new for her, it was new for the entire galaxy, barring the humans, and all their splinter species of elves, dwarves, and halflings, though Garm couldn't tell the difference between any of them.

"Massani!" she barked, the human looking back to her, a grim look on his face, "You said you could recommend one of these… witchers?"

A nod.

"What's the bastard's name?"

"Shepard…"

…

"How much?"

"Gotta determine what it is first. Sounds like a lower vampire, just don't know what kind," the witcher said evenly, uncaring of the storm brewing behind the Queen's eyes. The fucker had a quad, that was clear.

"Give me a price range…"

"Fleder or Ekimmara would ballpark for around twenty thousand, Katakan or a Garkain and we're looking for thirty. Gods forbid it's a Nekurat or a higher vampire, then we're looking at a hundred fifty, no less."

"Interesting," Aria said, credits didn't bother her, though she didn't like cheats. The asari matriarch would pay top dollar for top services, but would give anyone who tried to rip her off a slow death, "Why the price jump?"

"Because then I'm not hunting some beast," Shepard replied, inspecting a turian liver with what appeared to be surgical tools and an omniscope. Weren't witchers supposed to be warriors, not cops?

"Nekurat is an ancient Katakan, and a creature that at some point gains the power of higher thinking. Can apply reason, same as you and me, and makes the hunt that much more dangerous."

"What's the sword for?"

Viper eyes found Garm's own. The unnatural yellow slits didn't belong on that face and set the battle hardened krogan on edge, "Killing monsters."

The razor sharp eyes focused back on the blue liver before sticking a pair of forceps in a particularly ragged hole, pulling a curved tooth from the pale flesh, turning it over under the omniscope, "Garkain."

"Thirty thousand?" Aria asked, seemingly bored in the transaction and the actions of the witcher himself.

"Rings on the tooth put it at over a hundred and fifty years old," Shepard replied, Garm noticing just how raspy the human's voice was, "Thirty five."

"Fine, I want it dead tonight."

"Station's big, thirty seven."

Aria quirked one of her stenciled in brows before giving a counter offer, "Thirty five, and a safehouse two levels above the docking ring is yours."

Those unnatural eyes pinned the Queen of Omega to her spot as they mulled over her offer, though to the asari bitch's credit, she didn't show any outward fear, "Deal."

The witcher wasted no time as he pulled a stainless steel case up onto the table and opened it, revealing what appeared to be a chemistry set, complete with a burner. As this Shepard began pulling vials marked in a language Garm's translator couldn't understand, he had one final question, "How long until midnight here?"

"Six standard hours."

Shepard's finger's twisted and the burner ignited in a puff, despite the fact he never touched the damned thing, "Where do I bring the head when I'm done?"

"Seem sure of yourself, this thing has killed nearly a hundred people already, most well armed mercs."

"Not my first lesser vampire," the witcher said easily as he dropped three different vials into a container of clear liquid, shaking it quickly before placing it on the burner.

"Bring it to Afterlife, it's on the docking ring, you can't miss it. Show them the head, they'll bring you to me."

Shepard pulled a stack of silver slugs from the top half of the case before sliding it into the handle of a pistol so large, Garm almost thought it was a krogan weapon. He repeated the process for a second pistol, before sliding both weapons into holsters underneath his shoulders, "Got it."

The witcher then unsheathed his sword, the full length, about a meter long, shimmered in the station's artificial light. It was true what he had read, witcher blades knew no equal in all the galaxy.

"How much for the sword?" Clearly Aria was as impressed as he was.

"Not for sale."

He plucked the vial from the burner, now having turned a bloody red, and popped the top from it and poured the contents onto a rag. There was some purpose to what he was doing, but Garm was fucked if he knew, maybe it was poison, or maybe it was some sort of protection against the monster's blood, and he was spreading on the blade to keep it from being damaged.

It was at this point that the krogan noticed the hilt of the sword, and saw a pair of snarling beasts intertwined at the end that matched the silver medallion around his neck. It matched the symbol for the School of the Wolf.

Shepard grabbed two more vials, these premade. One was green, the other red, and placed them onto some sort of apparatus that extended from his right forearm. The machine plunged the liquid within the containers and presumably into the witcher's blood, causing an immediate reaction that chilled Garm to the point his quad was trying to get back inside.

Blood vessels strained against the man's skin, turning from red, to blue, to an unhealthy black as his eyes darkened and his entire body convulsed as the black marks ran across his skin. Finally it ended, one drop of blood falling to the floor from the human's nose. One sniff, and Garm wanted to vomit, and it took a lot for a krogan to want to vomit.

"Be seeing you soon."

…

Perceptible, even over the thumping music, were gasps of shock and cries of horror. There weren't any cries of pain, so Aria assumed that the witcher must be done, and it was only four hours later.

"Aria," the batarian guard to her left ground out in that annoyingly deep throated voice of his species, "Some human with snake eyes is here. Says he's got business, and a head to prove it."

"Bring him up Shok," she commanded, feigning uninterest. It wouldn't do for the thousand year old matriarch with no heart and a nasty temper to seem to care about some lowly human she hired. It wasn't true, she certainly was interested in it. The job, the creature, the man, all of it, for all her centuries of experience, what was happening both here, and in the galaxy abroad was something she had never seen before.

Magic, fantastic beasts, and not just one brand new species, but several, thinking, feeling, fully sentient species all from the same planet. And then there were these witchers, if any of them were at all like this Shepard, Aria would have to see what she could do to get one on her payroll, and if he proved interesting enough, see if she couldn't get this one into her bed, for he was certainly handsome enough.

The tall and broad human appeared before her 'throne', he was dirty, black liquid the Queen could only assume was the creature's blood streaked across his face, the typical dirt and grime of Omega's streets coated his armor joints, dulling the silver studs sticking out of the black ceramics and giving the man a grim look that suited his furry chin and viper eyes just fine.

He raised a hand, a hook hanging from it, and a head impaled upon it. The witcher dropped it at her feet, giving Aria her first in person look at what a human would call a Post Conjuction Creature.

"Not winning any beauty contests, is it?"

The creature was ugly. Two fleshy sacks on either side of its head, their purpose unknown to Omega's Queen, an elongated snout that ended in a stubbed nose, and grotesque, bulging red eyes. Mottled black skin covered its head, wet with its own blood, and perhaps some sort of awful excretion the creature emitted. But it was clearly a dangerous predator, and nothing made that more clear than giant incisors and long sharp fangs protruding from the upper and lower jaw.

"Better that than a fleder," Shepard grunted as he moved a hand to his side, not to rest his hand, but to hold some sort of injury, "At least these ones don't stink as bad."

"Nirkus," Aria gestured to her turian guard, "Get this thing out of here."

The dutiful pirate turned bodyguard grabbed the ugly cranium and began to walk away only for the matriarch to stop him, "Actually… get it stuffed."

"Want a trophy?"

"A reminder for the people of Omega," Aria corrected the witcher, "That I'll take care of them."

Shepard huffed in amusement, "Right, next time you can fight the garkain."

"I did. I threw money at the problem, and lo and behold, a solution came in to grab it up."

She keyed her omnitool, beginning the credits transfer to the witcher, "Sit down, witcher. I have some questions."

The man looked around her little throne room before Aria nodded to the seat to her right, where people in her favor typically found themselves. His hand never left the wound at his side, but he did look at it and then back up to her as he sat down. The asari nodded and Shepard immediately set about taking his armor off.

As he was undoing the hidden latches, the matriarch posed her first question, "I was looking for information on witchers while you were hunting. Other than the basic details of what you do and where you come from, there isn't much."

"Anyone who really wants to know typically are talking to Priests of the Eternal Fire," the armor plating covering his chest came loose, revealing a skin suit underneath that he began peeling back, revealing more of that bronze tinged skin, and the angry red and pink marks that crisscrossed the flesh.

"Oh I read their version," Aria laughed, "'Monstrum', they think you are no better than an animal, and are as bad if not worse than the creatures you hunt."

The suit was completely off by now, revealing musculature that was vaguely familiar to an asari, as it was similar in placement to their own, but Aria had to admit, she very much liked the way his rippled against his skin as he moved. The scars were much more alien to her, mostly in their numbers and density. Krogan carried plenty of scars, but theirs typically didn't last long, and it was the rare injury that caused a scar to hang around forever on one of them. The pink and red marks on Shepard however, would stick around much longer, and every time he suffered a wound sufficiently deep enough, he'd add to the collection.

"Didn't take long for most of Citadel space to agree with them," the witcher commented as he pulled some sort of hook and some thread, tying the string to the eyehole on the handle of the hook, "I had a contract on a turian colony. The turian that took it out opened up negotiations by calling me a mutant, and his seven year old daughter followed it up by calling me a monstrous freak."

"What was plaguing them?"

Shepard pushed the hook through the skin on one end of the ragged wound, and pulled it out on the other end, working his way along the claw mark, "Turns out one of their younglings didn't want to commit himself to mandatory military service, and took his own life. Instead of mourning the child, the turian who took out the contract, the boy's father, chose instead to disown him. That sort of insult isn't easily ignored by the dead, and the wraith had taken to torturing it's still living father."

"Should have let the kid have his revenge."

"It's my job to kill monsters."

What a perfect setup for me, "I could use a man like you, Shepard. Someone who takes money, and does what he's told with no questions."

"I'm not a criminal. I don't sell drugs, I don't steal, I don't smuggle, and I'm not an assassin."

Aria crossed her legs as she watched the dark haired man pull the string tight and tie it off, closing the wound, "What about Torfan?"

Viper eyes fixed on her own purple ones. She could see how people could find a witcher's gaze unsettling. Her? She found that it made her pants moist.

The Queen of Omega allowed a smile to spread over her face, "Rumor has it that the Alliance hired a witcher to soften up one of the harder bases, from the School of the Wolf."

There was no change in lighting, nothing to cause a reaction in a natural person's eyes, yet both slits nestled in two stones of pure amber narrowed all the same. Aria briefly wondered if he had conscious control over their dilation.

"That was you, wasn't it?"

No change on his face. The man could stare down a thresher maw, and could seem so cold. The matriarch knew better, however. She could feel the fire in the witcher's heart.

"I know more than a few people personally who would love to get their hands on you. What you did in those tunnels apparently made quite the impression on them."

Aria genuinely couldn't tell if he was tensing up to strike at her, or if he was simply gauging her and trying to determine her motives, it didn't matter much, as she defused any tension that may, or may not have existed. Seriously, he might have fallen asleep with his eyes open with the emotion he displayed.

"I don't plan on introducing you to any of them, if that's what your worried about. But I am curious, are you only a common merc for the Alliance?"

"I said I wasn't an assassin," he ground out, the tone accentuating just how raspy and quiet his voice was. If Aria's little throne room hadn't had sound suppression systems in it, it was unlikely she'd ever be able to hear the witcher, "I also said that I kill monsters."

Purple eyes widened at the implication as her heart skipped a beat. Like some sort of Justicar, this witcher seemed to take justice into his own hands when no one else would. He couldn't be any sexier.

Shepard's omnitool blinked, the witcher taking a quick look at the orange screen before looking back up at her, "Transfer's complete, you said you had a safehouse that was mine if I got it done before midnight?"

A slow smile spread across the ageless asari's beautiful face, "Let me show you."

Oh he had proven more than interesting enough, and she wasn't done trying to persuade him yet…

…

Shepard strode through the crowds of the Citadel with ease. Humans, and elves and dwarves etcetera, etcetera, were still fairly new on the galactic scene, but even the aliens had gotten the memo fairly quickly. If you see a witcher, unless you have business with him, stay clear.

Their reasoning was all difference. Some simply recognized that he was likely in pursuit of a monster or at the very least on a case, and lives likely depended on him. More likely, though, was that they thought he was diseased, and that he would spread it if they got too close. Others still looked at him as though he were a monster himself, likely to lash out and devour one of them. There were even some who looked at him in outright disgust.

"Fucking freak."

Amazing. An asari that had likely been alive for centuries, likely seeing her first witcher in the flesh, having only even known of his existence for thirty years, had just called him a freak. The galaxy really was just a wonderful place.

"Are you Sergeant Vakarian?"

A blue face painted turian in the standard C-Sec hardsuit looked up from his terminal and jumped in his set when his own bright blue eyes found Shepard's own viper eyes. A common reaction, there were only two people who had ever said they liked his eyes. One was Omega's Queen Aria T'loak after a night of rough fucking, and the other was his older sister, a wrinkly old woman well into her eighties and already had a granddaughter in the N7 program. He'd never met the young girl, but his sister Cerys had told him so much, he felt as though he had raised her himself.

"Uh… yes…" the young turian seemed a little nervous, maybe he thought like most of his species, and simply mistrusted humans in general. Or even better would be simple outright hatred for all things magic and unnatural, a la the witcher.

"C-Sec commander sent me to you, said you have all the details on your pest problem."

The avian alien blinked a couple of times before standing, "Right, we need to go down a few levels, to sanitation, that's where we think the problem is."

"Why do you think that?" Shepard asked, going immediately into the details.

The tall alien grabbed a gun from his desk and slapped it to his thigh, starting into the crowds with the nearly as tall witcher in tow.

"Last few weeks we've had machinery down there malfunctioning, getting jammed up, even physically broken sometimes. Just three days ago a filter had been ripped off."

Drowners? "What makes this witcher work? Could just be some big rock rattling around your plumbing."

"None of the keepers going down there ever came back, and two days ago a heavily armed C-Sec taskforce went in with the mechanics to look for the keepers while the mechanics worked on the filter. No one came back from that either. Me and another team were sent in, just to look for them and get them back."

"Did you find them?" maybe a water hag, possibly cohabitating with drowners, but how would it get on the Citadel?

"Only the parts it didn't like."

Fussy eater then… Relict? Possible, but a solid ID couldn't be made without examining the scene.

Shepard was fairly absorbed in his thoughts, but even a distracted witcher noticed more than the average man. That, and the salarian following them wasn't being terribly discreet.

"Who's our friend?"

Vakarian seemed startled at the accusatory tone the Wolf had taken with him, but more than that, seemed to be confused by the question, "Who?"

"The salarian missing half a horn who's been following us since we left C-Sec."

Terribly unsubtle, the blue face painted turian turned and practically shouted to the salarian to hide, "I don't see anyone like that."

"Not important," Shepard sighed, "How far are we?"

The Sergeant pointed to a lift, "This will take us straight to the sanitation levels."

The ride was slow, but smooth, giving the witcher time to prepare himself mentally. There was no point in readying any potions yet or brewing a blade oil. He didn't know what sort of creature it was, whether or not he would need to rely on his sword, his signs, his twin pistols, or if he needed to go and grab his rifle. What was left of the bodies will tell him what he needed to know, and as always, he had brought his Witcher's Cache with him, though more than a few chemicals were a little light, and he was down to two magazines of silver slugs for his pistols. He'd have to go look for arboretum. Likely there'd be more than a few plants he could make use of. There might even be an arms dealer or a silver smith willing to make some more slugs for him.

"Uh… what's your name?"

Small talk? Fair enough, "Shepard of Undvik."

The turian clearly had some thoughts on that, "That's it? No family name?"

"That is my family name, didn't remember my personal name when I left the School of the Wolf, but I remembered the name Shepard, and I remembered that I had been born on Undvik."

The turian looked down at the floor of the lift, "Oh."

Silence reigned again, but Shepard's head was still spinning with thoughts of his upcoming confrontation. His companions head, seemed to be spinning with different thoughts, but fortunately for the both of them, their ride came to an end.

"It's not far now, about sixty meters ahead and the door is on the right."

When they reached the scene, it was not at all what Shepard had imagined. He had been thinking some cramped hallway and maybe a couple of man sized pipes that could fit a drowner or a water hag. What he got, was a cavernous area, with a huge tank filled with the refuse of nearly a dozen different species. Only a light mass effect field kept the smell at bay.

A large ringed platform surrounded the pool of excrement, and it was littered with severed body parts, and stains of dried blood.

"I don't get it," Vakarian said as he stood next to the witcher, "There were humans, asari, salarians, and turians in that group. It ate something from each of them, so shouldn't it be dead, or at least terribly sick?"

"Not if it's a relict, necrophage, or vampire," the human rasped as he stalked over to the first pile of body parts.

"What are those?"

"Dangerous, you should get out of here," Shepard said as he pulled a turian spleen from the pile. The Sergeant didn't take the advice, but did stay quiet and allowed the witcher to work.

Setting his Witcher's Cache on the ground and pulling a scalpel from one of the external compartments, the supernatural detective cut the organ open and took a sniff, "Blood, rot," a deep breath, "iron?"

Shepard dug a little deeper into the turian blood factory and pulled an implant out.

"Lieutenant Anyra had a weak immune system, so she had a bunch of implants put in to regulate it."

Did it not like metal? Or was it sensitive to electrical current? He'd need a few more clues to come to a conclusion.

A salarian heart, a regulatory implant on the second ventricle. A human arm, small electrodes implanted in the muscle to help regenerate after significant atrophy or injury. Another turian body part, this one a whole hand, one that quickly proved to be entirely synthetic in nature apart from small chunks of blue tinged flesh hanging on to the connections.

The final, and most damning piece of evidence, was an entire asari head. Untouched apart from some slime that could have come from rot or could have come from the creature. It was difficult to tell, mostly thanks to the humid environment it was in. But the most unique piece of the head was the lack of any implants. What it was that could cause the creature to pass up on this?

Asari were biotics, powerful ones, with clumps of element zero in nerve centers giving them control over dark energy and granting them a powerful form of telekinesis. What was most significant, to the witcher, was that when eezo was exposed to an electric current, it created an electromagnetic field.

Using his omnitool to shock the skull, a bright pulse of blue appeared, causing the hair on the witcher's head stand on edge.

"Kayran."

Explains the slime. It wasn't sweating rot, but mucus, and if Shepard recalled the entry from his Wolf's Bestiary, the kayran wasn't a big fan of fields of energy. That's why the Yrden sign was so effective. Another fascinating point, was that young kayran were often mistaken for an octopus, and as a result, when they inevitably outgrew their tanks and artificial homes, the moron who owned them, would make the mistake of flushing it down into the sewers where it would survive off of garbage and waste, growing bigger and bigger before it could grow big enough to hunt.

The mucus was also poisonous, and an antidote would need to be brewed along side a relict oil. Flipping the Cache open, a problem presented itself in the form of a vicious supply shortage. He'd be able to make the antidote, but the blade oil needed a snifter of White Gull, something he was severely lacking in.

He set about combining the ingredients for the antidote and setting them on the burner as he pulled out his two twin pistols from their shoulder holsters, ejecting the iron ammo block and sliding in the special stack of .50 caliber silver slugs into the handle. He only had eight shots for each pistol, but it was unlikely they'd be of any use against a kayran. The creatures grew big quickly once they began feasting on living creatures.

"What's a Kayran?"

"A relict, cephalopod, very big, very smart, and extremely deadly. I'm going to draw it back here, how deep is the pool?"

"Only a few feet, this entire facility is shut down until we can get rid of the monster."

The witcher grunted in affirmation as he continued to prepare himself for the bout. Grabbing a vial of Swallow and placing it on his auto injector. The immediate effects of the regenerative potion were always nauseating, but he could handle one without showing much external discomfort. Finally ready, he turned back to the C-Sec officer.

"Where do the pipes lead?"

"Biggest leads to the Presidium, dirty water from the lake flows through here, the rest just lead deeper into the Ward."

Shepard nodded, and pushed the Witcher's Cache into Vakarian's hands, "Hold onto this for me. I'm going down there and I'm going to draw the Kayran in, as soon as I draw my sword… run."

The turian looked at him blankly for a second before nodding quickly and retreating to the doorway as the human turned back to the sewer pit, "What a day to forget my helmet…"

…

The smell had threatened to make him pass out, that was the problem with having a sense of smell four times as sensitive as a varren's. The sight of a dozen different species fecal material did nothing to help with the sickening smell. His only saving grace was the vacuum sealed suit he wore from the neck down. As long as he didn't pop a seal or get knocked down into the fetid water, he wouldn't get any of it on his skin.

However, as blood slowly dissipated into the water, having been sourced from one of the body parts on the ledge, Shepard got the feeling that he was doomed to several long, scalding hot showers as men in environsuits scrubbed him down with hard bristled brushes. The water was already sloshing, and his medallion was literally bouncing off his armor, and the kayran hadn't even entered the pit yet. It was either gigantic, or terribly excitable.

With a giant splash, the cephalopod exploded out the end of one of the bigger pipes leading into the wards, one that you could likely fit the witcher's own personal transport in with room to spare, and the beast had to squeeze its way out. Six tentacles splayed out, spraying rancid water as the kayran allowed itself to stretch to full size. Mottled skin covered in mucus shined in the harsh artificial light, revealing just how enormous this thing had become.

"They're gonna owe me a fortune."

Silver flashed as Grey Wolf was ripped from its scabbard across his back. The snarling wolf's head pommel seemed to grin in excitement, even as the snarling wolf's head medallion jumped for joy against his chest.

Beady eyes focused on him as the witcher assumed a fighter's stance, then raised up, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth surrounding the only vulnerable point on the kayran's body, and let loose a roar that shook the walls and sloshed the fetid water.

"Come on you piece of filth!"

Both combatants exploded into action, tentacles reaching for a target that sent a silver/dimeritium sword twirling. Each time one of the long slimy appendages would close in, Shepard would send it back missing a chunk, the razor edge of the blade easily cleaving through the soft flesh. Unfortunately, the relict could regenerate at speeds to make krogan green with envy, and even completely regrow chunks of missing flesh in mere moments.

The disgusting sewage spreayed as the beast slammed its massive and overpowered tentacles into the pool, attempting to knock its target off balance, but a witcher not so easily flustered, and Shepard was able to keep his balance as he retreated from the advancing beast. His feet were slowed by the water, making movement more difficult than he really needed it to be. A Kayran was a deadly enough foe on dry land, in water it was all but invincible. He was going to have to get creative.

A creative spark was difficult to find, however, as one of the six constantly self-repairing tentacles snaked through the water and latched onto his leg, pulling him off of his feet and introducing the witcher to his worst nightmare. A mouthful of alien sewage.

As the appendage lifted him into the air, Grey Wolf cut it off, sending the witcher back to the fetid water, only to be caught by another tentacle, this one grabbing him by the sword arm. Two .50's to the teeth caused the creature the first real pain of the battle, but it did not drop Shepard, instead shooting for the largest pipe in the pit, one that afforded it plenty of room.

The gargantuan valve that had sealed it was still shut tight, but as viper eyes watched the grey and green mottled cephalopod charge for the barrier, Shepard knew the wall of steel didn't stand a chance.

The butterfly valve twisted violently as the Kayran pushed against it violently, and millions of gallons of water began to rush through.

…

Naryna smiled at her little tour group. Mostly humans, but there were plenty of other species represented as well, all new comers to the greatest city in all of the galaxy. The asari had been giving tours like this for nearly a century, and it had yet to grow old. Not to say that it was still exciting, or that there was ever anything new happening in her job, but she did enjoy meeting new people everyday, getting to know the values and cultures that had spread across the galaxy.

"And if you look out here, you can actually see the pipe that slowly drains the lake on the Presidium. It is thirty five meters in diameter, and is capable of flushing the entire lake in a day should there ever be the need. As you can see, this part of the pipe is clear so as to help anyone working on the sanitation systems to see if there is ever any debris to large to go through the filters at the other end…" a human child had raised her hand, "Yes sweetie?"

"What's that?"

Naryna followed the little girl's finger and her jaw dropped and face slackened at what she saw. Some sort of sea creature was racing up the pipe, fighting the current of the water and winning easily. Even more frightening, was the man it held in its clutches!

The man seemed to fumble about before swinging some sort of grey stick that completely severed one of the creature's tentacles halfway up. Black liquid poured from the wound, but the monster seemed unperturbed as it simply grabbed the man again and continued racing up the pipe towards the Presidium.

"Uh," the asari matron said, unsure of how to explain this, or move the tour on, "Who wants to go the Zakera Skyways?"

…

Shepards lungs burned as he gulped down air, finally they had broken the surface. Something for which he would be eternally grateful to the Kayran for not understanding that its foe could not breath underwater. That and the fact that it had taken them to cleaner, if much, much deeper waters.

The cephalopod attempted to slam him into a bridge crossing the lake, but only managed to fling him upon dry ground where he was able to regain his footing. It was making mistakes he could capitalize on, but the damn thing wasn't getting any more unkillable. Shepard had to think of something quick.

A quick pat of his belt revealed a possible opening, but the Kayran would have to give him the opportunity.

On cue, massive tentacles gripped the entirety of the bridge, causing screams and panic in the thousands of civilians and diplomats walking alongside the idyllic lake. The fighter sized monster hauled itself up, beady eyes focusing in on him before using its other four tentacles to block any escape. The beast reared up, revealing its mouth, and exactly the opportunity the witcher had been waiting for.

The Samum detonated inside the Kayran, not doing any real damage, but the concussive force was enough to loosen the creature's grip on the bridge as it fell back into the water, stunned.

Shepard wasted no time gripping Grey Wolf in a reverse grip and leaping down atop the cephalopod's soft but thick head. As the creature was beginning to shake out of its stupor, the monster slayer dug the point of the silver/dimeritium sword in between the eyes and drug it forward, opening the soft skull and revealing the throbbing grey matter underneath.

Already the Kayran was stitching the open wound back together, but it was something that worked to the witcher's favor as one Dancing Star, and one Grapeshot dropped on top of the flesh, fuses lit, just as the wound completely sealed itself.

A tentacle wrapped around his midsection, holding him away from the Kayran's body as those eyes once again focused on him. The thing was pissed, though, fortunately, that would only be the case for the next few seconds.

Flesh rent open in the initial explosion, tossing black blood and blotchy skin up into the air, the second explosion sucked all the air out of Shepard's lungs as a massive fireball expanded and contracted, though he was fortunate in comparison to the Kayran, whose guts were pulled out through its brains, then lit on fire and scorched.

The witcher dropped into the clean waters of the Presidium lake as the relict, now a lifeless husk of charred and burning flesh, sunk below the surface, extinguishing the flames and sparing everyone on the Presidium the fate of having to breathe in charred Kayran.

One sniff and Shepard realized that that was only a small mercy, for anyone near him would still have to smell the stench of galactic sewage.

"I'm going to end up spending most of this reward on soap and hot showers…"

What do you guys think? Yay? Nay? What are you doing you absolute fool, no one likes your stories stop writing? Let me know, this one is kind of near and dear to my heart.

I didn't go into much detail about certain things, like the makeup of the sword Grey Wolf, or how his twin pistols worked. Nor did I get into how witchers fit in with the Alliance military, because they do, believe me. Mostly because I don't know if this is just going to be a single chapter that I put out there and it immediately gets rejected or what. I ultimately just wanted to build this conjoined universe with this chapter. If you guys think I should continue, then I'll certainly get into more detail.

This is literally just me satisfying my need to create a fanfic series that is severely lacking on this site. I think this has a ton of potential, but I don't know if anyone share's my belief

So drop a review, it is very important regarding the life of this story. Thank you!