Zrocker119: Finally got around to getting this chapter done. Special thanks to Dracomancer1 for helping with the proofreading and all the suggestions that you made. So without further a do, let's get to it!

-DOOM Effect-

-Chapter 5-

Start

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The Citadel could be pretty overwhelming for first time visitors. With a standing population of about 13 million souls, the Galactic hub was always bustling with movement as hundreds of thousands of people from different races went about their lives. Hundreds of ships flew to and from its docks twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and with the exception of the Presidium, there were no artificial day-night cycles, so if you lived in the wards, you almost always had to operate from your internal clock.

The massive superstructure was a sight to behold, the sheer scale of it being more than enough to send even the most reserved being into a state of complete awe at the grandness and timelessness that no planet-bound metropolis could ever hope to achieve.

It was a feeling that wasn't shared by Alex, for even without the knowledge that he possessed about the station's true nature, the sixth sense that he had gained from his and the Slayer's merging stomped out any form of wonder.

As he walked along the upper Zakera Ward dressed in casual clothes and (visibly) unarmed, Alex couldn't stop his hands from clenching into fists. To most, the atmosphere of the Citadel was completely harmless, such was its design. But to the nigh-immortal crusader, the air of the station was nearly as tainted as the deepest parts of hell itself.

So much death over the countless eons of the Reaper's slaughtering and processing those that had called this station home had forever stained its halls with the hate and anguish of an untold number of souls.

He had only been here for a week, yet just breathing the tainted air was beginning to take a toll on Alex's limited patience. Had he known this was what had awaited him, he would've just stayed on Omega. At least then he would've been able to let loose his burning rage on those that deserved it.

Sure, if he looked close enough, Alex would more than likely find some poor bastard that met his standards, but the whole point of coming here was to lie low and not draw attention to himself.

Taking a deep breath, the walking engine of destruction looked around for anything that could help cool his rising temper. Thankfully he spotted a food stand of sorts that had seating just a bit further down the emptying street. Seeing a sign that told consumers to seat themselves, Alex did just that and grabbed a menu.

Upon opening it, he couldn't help but grumble to himself. The damn thing was written in a language that he couldn't read.

"Try turning it over."

Shifting his gaze over to the right, Alex watched as a Turian with white markings took the unoccupied seat just two spaces away from himself. "There should be a translated version of the menu on the other side. Bamela's always on point like that."

"You're far too kind, Nihlus." An Asari said as she came out from the back of the stand. "Same order as always?"

"If it's no trouble, Bamela." Nihlus gave his species' equivalent of a smirk. "I'd recommend it to your latest customer, but I don't think it will agree with his organs all too well."

Bamela gave a small laugh. "Seeing as I made it specifically for the Turian digestive system, I would have to agree with you."

Directing his attention to the server and apparent cook, Alex set the menu down and slid it away. "I'll take whatever you'd recommend. I'm not picky when it comes to food." While he was certain that his organs could handle anything that could make it down his gullet, especially after receiving the blessing from the Seraphim, eating or drinking something that his biology wouldn't normally allow would draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Speaking of drawing attention, Alex's gaze shifted over to the turian beside him. What were the chances of him bumping into a Spectre? Based on what he knew about them and the nature of their missions, the odds had to be astronomical.

"Pardon me," He spoke, catching the agent's attention, "but the lady called you Nihlus. As in the Spectre?"

Though he kept his features schooled and professional, Alex picked up the subtle signs that he was annoyed by the question.

"Yes." Nihlus spoke in an even tone. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"No."

The Asari returned, depositing the two's orders. Nihlus' order seemed to be a form of noodles and broth, while Alex's appeared to be a type of seafood. Giving her a quick thanks, Alex continued speaking. "Just surprised to see a Spectre of such renown eating at a joint like this. With all the hearsay surrounding your specific group, it seems so-"

"Modest?" Alex smirked and gave a nod. Nihlus let out a small snort, "Trust me. Despite the Council wanting the public to think that we Spectres are always capturing criminals and putting down terrorists, we do take some time off to enjoy ourselves, and nobody on the Citadel makes a bowl of yamtin quite like Bamela's."

Sharing a chuckle, Alex extended a hand. "Flynn Taggart."

Nihlus accepted the aforementioned hand, shaking it with a firm grip. "A pleasure to meet you. So, what brings you to the Citadel Mr. Taggart?"

The two made simple conversation while they ate. Alex took care to only reveal the backstory that he and Vega had put much time and effort into constructing. "Flynn Taggart" was a former Marine-turned-handyman currently waiting on confirmation for a job on Eden Prime.

There was obviously much more to it than that, but there was no reason to divulge everything to the Spectre, just enough to satisfy the agent.

"So you're looking to get into the agriculture business?" Nihlus questioned as he finished up his meal. "I don't mean to offend, but you hardly look like the type that enjoys working in a field."

Alex shook his head. "None taken. But you're right. I'm not going for farm work. An old friend of mine is the head of the excavation company that the colony hired to clear out sites for future development. One of his guys got injured, so he called and offered me a job."

"I see." Paying for the meal, Nihlus got up from his seat. "While this was unexpected, I can easily say that I enjoyed speaking with you, Mr. Taggart. I wish you luck with your new job. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your stay on the Citadel."

"It was a pleasure speaking with you as well. I'm sure you've heard this plenty of times, but thank you for your service to the galaxy." And Alex meant that. He knew that Spectres often conducted shady practices to get results, but from what he could recall about Nihlus, the Turian was one that tried to minimize civilian casualties.

That was something Alex could respect.

"You're right. I do hear that sentiment often, but one that I'll always appreciate. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Taggart."

Bidding the Spectre a good day, Alex finished his food, washing it all down with a glass of water.

"Was the shirvan to your liking?" questioned the Asari cook. "I don't get human customers as often as I would like, so I'm eager to hear your thoughts."

"Bamela, was it?" She gave him a curt nod. "The food was delicious. If I'm ever in the area, I'll be sure to stop by and try another." Alex said truthfully. He didn't go out to eat often as he prefered to cook for himself, but on the rare occasion that he did, he was always looking to expand his palate.

Paying for the meal the Slayer bid her a good day before going about his business. Or at least, that had been the plan.

The plan was scrapped when a group of four rough-looking individuals consisting of two Humans, three Batarians and a single Krogan walked up to Bamela's stand just as Alex had been about to leave his seat.

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Bamela could physically feel the color drain from her face at the sight of Fist's enforcers. She stole a quick glance at her latest customer, Flynn Taggart if she had heard correctly, who had noticed the approaching group. Attracting his gaze, she gave a subtle gesture for him to leave.

He seemed like a decent fellow and she didn't want him to accidentally get caught up in her trouble.

His brow furrowed a bit. It must have been a trick of the lighting, but she swore that his red eyes seemed to glow as he thought. But just as quick as it had appeared, the light was gone and he gave her a nod.

As he got up and left, Bamela let out a sigh of relief. Though her breath hitched a little when one of the approaching Batarians aimed a vicious shove in his direction. To both her and the enforcer's surprise, the fully-armored Batarian was the one sent stumbling away while Mr. Taggart kept walking like nothing had happened.

The Batarian turned to shout at the man, but stopped when the Krogan leading the group sent him a look that told him to drop it.

The Krogan then turned his gaze to her. "We're here for the payment."

Bamela took a moment to compose herself before finally speaking. "I've already paid for the month. You should know that, Skrag."

"You might have." he admitted, "But something has come up to raise the cost of Fist's protection."

"That means pay up bitch," One of the humans spoke, but was quickly cowed by a sharp look from the much larger Krogan.

"I. Will. Handle. This." He growled. Shifting his attention back to Bamela, he leaned on the counter. "Listen, If you don't hand me an additional 30% now, then Fist will send someone much less kind than me."

"And it won't be here, but at your home in front of your children. Neither of us want that to happen."

"I-I-..." Bamela couldn't form proper words due to how much she was shaking. But thankfully for her, Skrag was patient and allowed her to compose herself. Well, as much as she could for being in the situation that she was in. "I-I need some time to get it all together. Three days at the most."

Skrag nodded, "so long as the payment is made." With business concluded, the thug turned around and left, his men falling in behind him.

The moment they were out of sight, Bamela finally let loose the breath that she had been holding. Placing a hand over her mouth she stifled her crying, though the tears streamed down her cheeks freely.

Despite her best efforts to quiet herself, the asari's weeping was heard with absolute clarity by the demon slayer hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley.

Inhaling slowly, Alex turned on his heels and left the area. He knew that he shouldn't get involved, that interfering could jeopardize his cover...but then again he had never cared about that before.

"Vega, plot me a route to Chora's Den." Looks like he'd be paying a certain crime lord a surprise visit.

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Fist had been having a good day, for the most part that is. He had had to bail out one of his men from C-Sec lockup, costing him a hefty sum of credits, but a sum that could easily be made back by raising the cost of his 'protection' for the small businesses in surrounding areas.

Other than that one setback, the day had been great. The club was booming as usual, his business with the Shadow Broker was going smoothly. He even got a private dance from one of the Asari dancers that worked in the bar and was scheduled to meet her back at his place once he finished sorting through the day's profits.

So yeah, it had been a good day.

It was while Fist was riding that high when the lights suddenly cut out. Though annoyed, he just wrote it off as the circuit breaker tripping and went back to typing away on his data pad. One of his men would deal with it. What were hired goons for, after all?

But then the data pad began to glitch out, the screen turning red and flashing a laughing skull and crossbones before short-circuiting in his hand. Someone was fucking with him.

Growling, Fist grabbed the pistol on his desk and moved towards the door. However, just as he was about to reach for the panel, the holographic display blinked red. This was followed by the sound of the magnetic locks activating.

"What the fuck?" Keeping his cool, Fist activated his omni tool. "Will somebody tell me just what the fuck is going on?!" He quickly pulled the damn thing away when nothing but static came through.

Fist didn't have long to ponder before the sound of gunfire reached his ears. It was no firearm that he was familiar with, though judging from what he was hearing it sounded like some sort of heavy machine gun.

He could hear his men firing back at whichever fuck was stupid enough to assault his base of operations. But to Fist's ever growing concern, the cries of his men began to fill his ears. As the sound of combat drew closer to his office, he could hear everything with greater clarity.

His fear peaked however, when the man heard what sounded like rending flesh, alongside the terrifying screams of his men.

Now in full-blown panic mode, Fist hurried back to his desk, nearly tripping over himself in the process. Reaching it, he began to rapidly press the panic button hidden underneath. The hard-lined distress call to C-Sec was something that the previous owner of the establishment had installed but which Fist never bothered to remove.

Now it just might be his saving grace, just so long as the mag-locks held.

Checking his computer he saw that the cameras were oddly left alone by whoever had hacked his whole system. As he flipped through the many cameras hidden throughout the club, Fist was horrified by what he saw.

Bodies. Every single one of the men he had were sprawled throughout the place in various states of dismemberment. Limbs were ripped and tossed about, while their guts painted the floors and walls.

Unable to keep the bile down, Fist keeled over and emptied the contents of his stomach, a cold sweat breaking out across his body.

The sound of his office door opening caused the criminal to freeze. He barely had time to process the sound of heavy boots stomping across the room. Fist lifted his head up just in time to see a heavily armored figure place a hand on the side of his desk, followed by the sound of tearing metal as the whole thing was ripped right out of the floor and tossed aside like a toy.

Fist saw a pair of red eyes, burning like embers, staring at him through the heavily-tinted lens of the figure's helmet before they struck out with a closed fist. He felt a weightlessness as he flew back, stopping only when he collided with the wall.

He made a gurgling noise as he struggled to breath, blood pooling from his mouth. Looking where the figure had struck him, Fist saw that the heavy armor that he was wearing on his chest had been completely caved in.

"P-please," he managed to weeze out. Raising a hand as a show of surrender, his efforts were rewarded by the man gripping the extended limb, crushing the bones before ripping it from it's socket.

The last thing Fist ever saw was the sight of a raised boot.

His only saving grace in all of this was that his body was flooded with so much adrenaline that he couldn't feel a thing. Not even as his skull was mercilessly stomped in.

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The only sound that could be heard within Chora's Den was that of Alex's heavy breath as he stood over the bloody corpse of Fist. But it wasn't enough. Grabbing the desk chair in the corner, he brought it down again, and again and again. Armor caved in, limbs were scattered and turned to pulp, but he didn't stop. At some point, the chair crumbled into useless scrap from being used as a bludgeon. A nearby crate soon followed, then Fist's desk.

It wasn't until the floor was heavily dented and the ex-crime lord was nothing more than an unidentifiable pile of bloody slush did the Slayer cease.

The anger was still there, it always was, but for now it had been abated.

When Alex decided to come here, it hadn't been with the intention of killing Fist. Sure he had planned on removing a limb or two, but nothing that the criminal wouldn't have been able to replace with cybernetics.

But upon his arrival at the club, Vega had hacked his way through Fist shoddy, when up against a fully sentient AI anyway, cyber security and sifted through every one of the man's dirty secrets.

Fist was a man that had absolutely no morals. Drugs, racketeering, blackmail, kidnapping and prostitution. He didn't just dip a toe in these ponds. No, Fist fucking swam in it all.

But it was one data log in particular that Vega had discovered, one buried so deep that even the best of analysts might have missed it, one that had caused the AI to pause...before telling Alex that Fist and all of his associates needed to die.

When Alex asked what his friend had uncovered, Vega only spoke two words that caused the Slayer's body to go cold...before his vision went red.

During his time on Omega, Alex had dealt with the worst that the Galaxy had to offer, Aria being the most prominent figure. But there was one action that even the Asari Warlord had prohibited from ever taking place on her station.

An act so vile that Alex couldn't even believe that it was even capable of happening on the Citadel.

Chora's Den was a hub for dealing child pornography.

Fist wasn't the only one on the Citadel that participated in this horrifying act. There was an empire lurking under C-Sec's nose, a group built for acquiring and exploiting the young of any species it could get its filthy hands on.

But thanks to the files uncovered by Vega, and with how thorough Fist had been when it came to filing and keeping track of all of his underground dealings, Alex now had the location of all of the participating groups.

It wasn't just the head honchos however. No. From the heads that ordered everyone to those that did the grunt work, Alex had the names, and a mission.

Every last one of them would pay for what they had done, in blood.

Every.

Last.

One.

It looked like his departure from the Citadel was going to be delayed.

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-End-

Zrocker119: And so the next arc begins. The Citadel is gonna play host to the Slayer and his unstoppable crusade and they have no idea what's in store for them. Till next time.