If anyone is wondering what's going on with 'Here at The End of All Things,' I am completely and utterly lost on how to continue that story. So, to keep my mind working, I decided to draw up an original story, with an original cast, set in the MEverse. HATEOAT may continue later, but for now, I'm focusing on this.

Anyway, this story is rated T for some rather graphic violence and language. I don't think it's enough to warrant an M rating, but still, read at your own discretion.

Falacrine, colony Judea, Skyllian Verge

23:00 local time, December 20th, 2165

A cloaked figure hastily made his way across the alleyway. Thick with paranoia and with nothing but moonlight to guide his path, he stopped as he reached the sliding door at the end of the stretching alley, the holographic panel glowing orange. Cursing under his breath, he rapped on the door three times, each strike with more frustration then the last. Here in the lowliest areas of Falacrine, the people generally gave each other space, but without any streetlights, the cloaked man could almost feel curious eyes burning into his back.

Finally, the door slid open, and before he knew it, he was staring down the barrel of a heavy pistol. The cloaked man stepped back slightly, but didn't waver.

"What was the first thing our fathers told us upon birth?" The pistol's owner growled.

"Stay strong, stay angry, and don't trust any idiot because they say you can."

With a grunt, the man inside lowered his weapon.

"I thought you were going to leave me in the rain, Sanike. Bad enough you bring me to this filthy human planet. Is it ready?"

Sanike, a batarian, nodded, and gestured for the cloaked man to enter his domain. They made their way through a thin hallway, before emerging into a small living room, empty other than a round table and some chairs. Six other batarians sat around it, grumbling as they played cards. When they saw their new guest, they all rose, gathering up their cigarettes and playing cards to make way for their new visitors.

The cloaked man nodded, and the six men eased up. Seating himself at the end of the table, he removed his cloak, revealing he too, was a batarian. After Sanike mumbled at the tallest man in the room to watch the door, he turned on the small holoscreen at the end of the table, a shadowy figure appearing on its interface. All four of the batarians at the end of the table's eyes scanned the figure thoroughly. Usually, the formerly cloaked man, the leader of the small group of mercenaries, was perceptive, but the figure on the screen had been careful to keep their identity hidden.

"Dorik." The figure's voice rang out through a heavy filter. "Is your team ready?"

Dorik grunted. "We are. Are you sure we have the necessary clearance?"

"You should be able to get into the capital with no hassle. I've made sure of it."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Dorik snarled, leaning forward on his chair. "I don't like it when employers speak through synthesizers."

"Revealing my identity would jeopardize the operation. I wouldn't have went through the trouble of smuggling you into Falacrine if I was going to stab you in the back."

Dorik stared hard at the screen, before nodding. "Fine. I trust the credits will be transferred into each of our accounts?"

"You will be payed sufficiently. Get it done. We've discussed the details before. Out."

The screen flickered off, and Dorik rose. "Birkash, get the shuttle ready. We head out in ten minutes. Be ready."

The Citadel, Council Chambers, Widow

14:00 Citadel Time, December 21st, 2165

Decimus Maxus, a Turian Spectre, was growing very impatient. He was standing outside the Council Chamber, leaned up against a wall as he watched impatient pedestrians lining up to see the Council. Usually, he wouldn't have to wait with every commoner on the Citadel. As a Spectre, he could simply identify himself and go. But for reasons unknown, his Spectre status wasn't authorizing. After two hours of waiting in line, he had almost considered leaving. Maybe whatever glitch that was preventing his clearance would be gone in the morning. But then he reminded himself whatever the Council wanted, it could be important. As the prestigious groups' right hand, he didn't have the luxury of ignoring their calls.

Finally, he reached the front of the line. A salarian budged by him, mumbling something quickly under his breath. The Council had rejected whatever it was he had proposed, Decimus guessed. Making his way up the stairs and past the C-Sec guards, he sat down in front of the Council's booth, overlooking his small platform. After a few minutes of bickering, the Council finally took notice of him.

"Decimus?" Tevos, the Asari Councillor, asked. "What are you doing in this line?"

Decimus shrugged. "Some sort of bug. Didn't recognize my Spectre status."

She frowned, but said nothing more. The four screens behind them flickered to life, three displaying the faces of the Council, and one showing Decimus. His skin was unusually dark for a turian, charcoal black with red clan markings climbing up his mandibles, nose, and fringe.

"In that case…" Karden, the turian councillor, boomed in his usual loud monotone. Beckoning for the audience to leave, he fixed his eyes on the younger turian seated below him. The turian councillor always gave off an intimidating aura, with piercing amber eyes and markings much like Decimus'. Usually, anyone presenting themselves to the Council would cower under Karden's gaze. However, Decimus had become used to his father's demeanour.

The Maxus family was a long line of politicians and diplomats, without much military blood besides the mandatory years in the Hierarchy. When Decimus had become an officer and later a Spectre, his father had not approved. Due to Decimus' career path, him and his father shared a cold and strained relationship. However, the turian Councillor wouldn't let this bad blood show in the Council meetings.

"We'll make this quick, Decimus." Biseen, the salarian began. The image behind her changed from her stoic expression to a small garden world. "Approximately twenty four hours ago, a settlement on the planet Judea was attacked. It's a human colony in the Skyllian Verge."

"I'm sure the Alliance knows. Why call me?"

Karden shook his head. "Officially, Judea is a neutral ground between the batarians and the humans. If the Alliance moved a large force in, it could start a war that neither we or the Alliance want."

"I assume that means we have leads then?" Decimus asked, rising from his seat.

"Not leads." Tevos replied. "We have an exact location of those responsible. A trusted contact delivered it to us. We just need you to get there and finish them quietly. I'm sending the details to your omni-tool."

Decimus nodded, pulling up his wrist and skimming through the details. He would look at them more in depth later.

"Got it." Decimus said.

"Your Spectre status should be fixed by the time you get there." Tevos said with a nod. "This Council meeting is adjourned."

Falacrine, colony Judea, Skyllian Verge

17:00 local time, December 22nd, 2165

Decimus downed the final bit of liquid in his cup, before scanning the room again. He was told to look for the Councils' contact in this seedy little bar in the lower reaches of Falacrine, the colonies capital. Judea was blooming with natural resources, making it a common gathering place for races of all sort. However, it was a human colony first and foremost, meaning the majority of this bar's clientele were members of the smooth-skinned race. Decimus wasn't particularly fond of humans; he had fought in the First Contact War, but unlike some of his turian brethren, Decimus kept his mistrust to himself. Officially, humans were his allies. He preferred to remember that rather than the small scuffle that was the Relay 314 Incident. They did have some terrible dextro liquor, however.

Decimus had been told to look for a 'tall Caucasian human male with long brown hair.' He had absolutely no idea what that meant, so he hoped this contact knew who he was looking for. Despite having no clue on the human's physical appearance, he had dug into this contact's files. Kevin Hossle, former Alliance, dishonorably discharged for drinking while on duty, now a retired member of the Blue Suns mercenary group, and since his retirement, he'd done some questionable things, such as assisting batarian terrorists. An odd person for the Council to place faith in, Decimus had to admit. But he would have to believe them.

Psst!

Decimus' gaze snapped to the side at the sound. A human man was standing by the bar's door, beckoning for him to follow. Decimus nodded, placing a few credit chits in his cup before setting off to follow who he assumed was Hossle. The turian stepped out into the rainy street, turned the corner, and was greeted by the man, in a small four wheeled vehicle, gesturing for the Spectre to join him.

Decimus crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Before I do anything I need to know who you are."

The man sighed, stepping out. He had the brown fur typical of humans on his head and face, and he was tall for his race. Assuming the growth on his head was hair, this man matched the description the Council had given. Decimus still had no idea what Caucasian meant, however.

"Name's Kevin Hossle. Former Alliance. Council told me to tell you that 'the eternal spirit guides all, from the glorious kingdom of Phaeston.'"

He left out the fact he was Blue Suns, and worked with terrorists…Decimus noted. However, his passcode was correct, so the turian nodded, and made his way into the man's vehicle.

The rover's side seat had a broken window, hastily patched up with plywood. The driver's side, however, was perfectly unscathed.

I won't be able to see where we're going….Decimus noted, yet again.

"Sorry if you can't see. Damn kids broke the window. You know, the Council never told me who you were." Hossle said, as if reading his thoughts. Decimus looked at him with a glare. He didn't know much about human expression, but the fact that he refused to make eye contact had to mean something. Hossle turned at his gaze, holding out a hand, expecting him to shake it and introduce himself. He did neither. An awkward break of silence followed.

It was a relatively short drive, with neither of the men speaking much, other than the occasional question shot off by Decimus, still suspicious of this supposed 'trusted source,' intent on catching him off guard with something he couldn't answer. Hossle was hiding something, that much he was sure of. This thought had Decimus loosening his pistol's holster just slightly.

When they had finally arrived, Hossle got out of the vehicle with more haste than was necessary. This notion caused the turian Spectre to slide his weapon completely out of it's holster, but fortunately, didn't need to. Hossle had parked the rover on top of a hill, overlooking a small collection of alleys and apartments. To an outsider, this would seem like a perfectly normal community. Or a perfect place to hide.

"This is the poor district of Falacrine. I've asked around. There's been no suspicious activity recently, so the place shouldn't be well guarded, at least on the outside. I'd guess a dozen or so people." Hossle said, pointing towards the small condo which Decimus assumed his quarry was using as a hideout. "Good luck, Decimus."

Funny, I don't think I ever introduced myself…

5 hours later….

Decimus had waited until Judea's moon was completely concealed behind the distant mountains before he made his move. He was a patient man; he had to be, if he managed to sit in this same spot for five hours, staring at the condo door in search of movement. Only one person had come out of the building in that time, a cloaked figure who had sped away in a skycar soon after. Not before Decimus had noted his license plate and car model, however.

When the small terrace was finally covered in absolute darkness, he lifted his sniper rifle off its sling on his back and shouldered it, focusing it's crosshairs on the condo's door. He had decided to bring nothing but the Hierarchy standard issue HY87 Legionary Sniper Rifle for this task, along with his usual M-77 Paladin heavy pistol. He had to buy the rifle after he arrived on Judea; his Spectre status was still bugged. The Paladin, however, had been easy enough to smuggle across spaceports.

The building's front yard was still clear, so he stowed his rifle back onto its sling, fastened his night vision goggles, and quickly yet quietly made his way down the hill, careful not to draw any unneeded attention.

The small slum seemed deserted. Most people would see this as an advantage. Decimus, however, saw it as a hurdle. He knew that there were at least a dozen people in this community, and the severe lack of noise meant that the slightest misstep would be heard two dozen meters away, and without crowds, he'd stand out like an elcor in a strip club to anyone looking out their window. Luckily, time in the turian Black Watch had taught him a thing or two about hiding in the open; stay low, stay in the shadows, and judge whether or not you're in anyone's line of sight.

Walking on his toes, he finally reached the condo's doorway. Unfastening his pistol from its holster, he settled down by the door, listening in through the window directly above him. At first, he heard nothing, but after his ears adjusted to absolute silence, two voices became apparent.

"Good thing Hossle tipped us off about this guy. We even know who he is?"

"Decimus Maxus, boss says. Former Turian Black Watch, now a Spectre. Famous for dismantling a batarian spy ring member by member a few years back." A second voice said.

"He'll be coming alone, he said. After we deal with him, we can get the hell off this damn planet. Boss only left an hour ago and he's probably half way to Camala. All his goods too." A third voice chimed in, sounding irritated.

So Hossle was dirty, and the guy leaving must have been their boss. Three confirmed hostiles so far. I'll take care of Hossle later.

Taking a breath, Decimus slowly reached out with his omni-tool, placing it on the orange panel in the center of the door. It uploaded a virus that would mimic the unlock code, opening it without setting off any alarms. When it was done, he slid the door open, silently creeping into a hallway.

Before moving any further, he scanned the area. It was dimly lit, probably candlelight, with no visible traps or radars. Cautiously, he stepped forward. When no alarm sounded, he continued.

The fact that this place was lit at all when they knew he was coming was an obvious sign he was dealing with idiots. The candlelight would give him shadows around corners, making remaining undetected that much easier. That is, if he managed to stay out of sight.

When he had heard the voices through the window, he guessed they were coming from this room, on the right side of the main hallway. He had thought correctly; three men, all batarians, stood with their backs turned, staring at a door, which Decimus guessed was the rear entrance to the building. They had expected him to come in through the back.

This furthered Decimus' conviction that whatever group this was were a bunch of amateurs. Anyone smart would have stationed at least a few guards at every entrance, not just the most likely one. Despite their obvious lack of skill, he'd still rather avoid alerting anyone else in the building.

The man farthest from Decimus coughed, giving him the perfect opportunity to lunge forward, unclipping his knife from his boot, and plunging it into the nearest batarian's neck. Just as he had planned, his companion's cough had suppressed his final gag before blood filled his trachea, leaving his next target completely oblivious to Decimus' presence. Setting the body down, he crept forward further, this time throwing the knife at the back of one batarian's neck, and lunging forward, giving the other a punch to the vertebrae, breaking his spine, and finally cutting his life short with a quick neck snap. The batarian with the knife in his neck was alive, but as Decimus had intended, the blade had blocked his windpipe, and the only sound that came out of him was a slight gurgle. Decimus was quick to give him a similar death to his partner.

Scanning the room quickly, he dragged the three batarians into the darkest corner he could find, making a mental note to search them later. He crept back out, down the hallway again, and slowly made his way up the staircase, careful not to misstep or set off a creaky floorboard.

Just as he had expected, the candlelight gave him a shadow to work with. To the left at the top of the staircase was a room, and judging by the shadows, three more hostiles occupied it. Quickly, he darted up the stairs and into the nearest visible cover, a closet. Peering out of it, he saw at least one of the guards inside was facing his way. Holding his breath, he unfastened the closet's handle, and gently tossed it at a door across from his hiding place. The slight knock it made as it bounced off the hardwood floor caught the attention of the merc facing him, and he left his post to investigate.

Decimus took this opportunity to creep up behind the batarian, tapping him on the shoulder so he turned, before giving him a sharp jab to the windpipe, collapsing it. He fell backwards, and Decimus closed the bathroom door, locking his choking victim inside. Taking this time to scan the area, he saw the only room left in the condo was the one he had spotted the shadows in.

Priming a flash grenade, he settled down next to the door, counted to three, and tossed it through the now unguarded door, making sure to shield his eyes. When he heard it go off, he sprung up, kneeing one of the batarians in the stomach before taking out his pistol and lodging a bullet in between another one's lower set of eyes. The last batarian standing turned, a shocked expression on his face, before he too fell over, his life cut short by a bullet in his forehead.

Decimus watched him fall to the ground, before turning his attention to the batarian he had intentionally left alive, a look of pity on his face. He might have kicked him a little harder than he meant to.

"So," Decimus said, rolling the wheezing merc over. "Your boss. What's he taking to Camala?"

The batarian spat at him. "G..go to…"

"I might just let you live."

The batarian laughed, but then went into a spasm of coughs. "You think I'll believe that?"

"Think about it. You're curled up on the floor like this, and I've got a gun. If you don't tell me, you're dead. Why not take that small chance of survival while you can? It's the only door that's open."

The batarian sighed. "We're just a…diversion. The boss used us to cover up for the kidnapping. He's got a messenger coming by to make sure we took you out."

Kidnapping? The Council said the colony was attacked…

"Kidnapping? Kidnapping who?"

The batarian shook his head. "I don't know. I'm just a damn gun for hire. The boss is part of something bigger. Much bigger. He's got a Spectre on his side, even. They gave him clearance to government buildings."

A Spectre?

"Tell me everything else you know."

The batarian coughed. "That's all, I swear! Can I go?"

Decimus shook his head. "I can't have you going around telling everyone about my investigation here. I need to stay silent for now." He got up, and held his pistol to the man's head. "I take no pleasure in this, trust me."

"Wait-n-!" The batarian's terrified plea was cut off by a bullet.

Decimus stood still for a second, considering what this batarian had told him. Not only had the Council lied about this colony being attacked, but looking at his file, there was no way they could have believed Hossle could be trusted. Had they wanted him to get to the bottom of this, or was he set up? He wasn't willing to believe the Council was behind it for now, they probably just followed a faulty lead.

At the moment, he was more interested in figuring out exactly who was kidnapped and why. If a Spectre was involved, it must have been someone important. And right now, the best course of action was to simply sit down, and wait for that messenger to arrive.

To be continued...

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :)