To Cleanse

Chapter 1

Erar Dar'ai's security detail deployed in front of him, their weapons held at high port and sweeping frantically for any targets in the street outside his home. The detail were mostly fellow Batarians, but a few others were in evidence, there was a Vorcha manning a flamethrower as well as a massive Krogan hefting a hammer that shook the ground when put to use, among others. Erar really didn't care what rabble made up his security details, just that they could hold their weapon properly and offered another target for that shadow that haunted his every step - the vile humans were the only ones he would never allow to work for him, their small, beady eyes the only evidence he needed for their inadequacy.

This felt wrong, he felt huddled inside his own shields, terrified of the outside world and the horrible death that might be waiting for him now that he dared to leave his upscale home in the Kima District of Omega. The shadow could be anywhere, behind every street lamp, cloaked in the middle of the street, drawing a bead on him at this very moment with that damn rifle. That rifle. Erar had no idea what it was called, who made it, even what it looked like - or the shadow that operated it, for that matter - all he knew was that the bullet - A bullet! I'm being hunted by a savage! - the weapon fired melted through shields like a Cabal shifting through a solid wall. He shivered inside his armor, he'd never felt so exposed in his entire life, sitting behind three different shields and a barrier. Never had Erar been so protected, yet so vulnerable.

That reminded Erar of his first partner, Bolou Kazo. Bolou had been behind shields when he met his end. Erar happened upon that scene only by chance, in his skycar en route to the warehouse Bolou had just left when it happened. Erar hadn't even seen it, but security footage showed it all in grizzly clarity. Bolou strode unhesitatingly into the street from the warehouse that housed the Red Sand he dealt in here on Omega. He hadn't been expecting any trouble, just striding down the deserted street with his companion, a Turian who met a similar fate. Erar believed that his partner had not even heard the rifle shot, nor felt any pain, as the hunk of metal was accelerated so fast that it sliced through his shield without the shattering effect that usually occurs when shields are brought down. The bullet had hit him in the neck, the shot perfectly placed to transform the spinal cord into flecks of bone and flying cartilage. The rifle the bullet came from was so powerful that the impact ripped flesh from bone and sent Bolou's head flying through the air like it was a ball kicked by a child.

His weapon leaping into his grasp, Bolou's Turian associate turned in his tracks, bringing his rifle to his shoulder and searching for targets. The dismemberment of his friend so great that he believed a shotgun had been placed to the back of Bolou's head. The street behind him was deserted, devoid of any life but a stray cat that spooked and bolted across the street at the sudden eruption of violence. Then the bullet found him, hitting him in the chest so hard that he was flung backwards, arms and legs already lifeless as he hit the ground in a heap.

It was ten minutes before Erar happened upon the scene, immediately calling for reinforcements from inside the warehouse to guard the bodies of his fallen associates. Techs had soon arrived and an hour later they brought what killed Bolou before him. A tech walked to him and placed into his upraised palm a hunk of metal, no larger than Erar's thumbnail, all warped and twisted like it had been placed into smelter before being delivered to him.

"You know what this is?" the tech asked him, nodding at the hunk of metal in his palm. Not waiting for a response, the tech continued "This is a rifle slug. I searched the Extranet while we were extracting it from solid steel."

"I figured as much." Erar said to the Asari technician. In reality, that wasn't the case, but it wouldn't do for an inferior to know of his ignorance.

So Erar and his people were being hunted by a savage using the modern equivalent of a bow and arrow - if a bow and arrow with a telescopic sight - and that set the Batarian's blood to boiling. It must have been visible in his face because the Asari made haste to leave his presence, making an excuse that Erar didn't even bother to remember. Clutching the bullet in his hand, he could still feel the lingering heat, even through his gloves.

Three skycars waited for Erar in the street outside his home. Sleek and black, sitting in the neon glow that characterized the mined out asteroid he made his home upon. One for he and he alone, the other pair for his security detail. Erar knew what he would see on the skycar's nav computer when he sat down, the computer set to take him directly to his private hangar five districts over. From there Erar would board the flagship of his rapidly dwindling Slave Ring and make haste for the relay. Erar only relaxed a bit when he sat down in the front seat of his skycar and the hatches closed around him - but only after the massive Krogan lumbered up to the craft and swept his hammer through the vehicle's interior to make sure the shadow wasn't cloaked in the backseat, like he had been for Erar's partner Wrathi.

The Batarian shivered again as he remembered seeing his long time friend and business associate's body, lay spread eagle on the window of the skycar he was boarding in the garage of his home. From the pool of blood that was already congealing on the floor of the skycar, Wrathi had just got into the craft, the hatches closing around him, when the shadow had appeared in the backseat. Clothed to go clubbing, Wrathi had no chance to save himself from the blade - A blade! Batarians being murdered in their homes by a damned savage! - that was raked across his throat.

Erar then imagined the shadow drug his friend from his skycar, closed the hatches then laid him out on the front windshield. When poor Wrathi - an honest businessman! - was positioned properly, the shadow attached a small drive to the hilt of the knife he'd used to slash the slaver's throat and stabbed it into the Batarian's chest. Wrathi hadn't yet been moved when Erar arrived on the scene, the second partner in as many weeks to fall victim to this savage in the night.

Sitting in the skycar, Erar growled low in his throat as he remembered grasping that knife and jerking it from Wrathi's unmoving body. Holding the knife by the giant serrated blade, Erar had unwrapped the tape that bound a small drive to the weapon's hilt. When the drive was free, Erar dropped the offensive knife to the ground, like he'd just gone elbow deep in Varren shit to retrieve the prize he sought, letting a sound of disgust escape from his throat as he did so. With the drive in his palm, Erar brought up his omni tool and had the drive read, it was a sound file, no more than five seconds long.

What the slaver heard then chilled him to the bone, fear shooting into his belly and radiating outwards. A voice, ran through so many filters that it was impossible to tell what throat it came from, uttering a single phrase: "You're next Dar'ai."

Though he had his techs work hours on the drive when he got safely home - behind locked doors - they were unable to retrieve any shred of audio that suggested the speaker's race. It could have been a Yahg for all Erar knew. That thought almost made the remaining slaver laugh, as he sat watching his security detail load into their respective skycars, if the message hadn't been tacked to the chest of his brother's son. Erar wondered how he would tell his brother the news, but that would have to come later - now was the time for escape. Once safely into Batarian space Erar would mourn his dead family and amass the men needed to take his revenge.

The skycar in front of Erar's lurched dangerously to the side as the thousand pound Krogan stepped inside, threatening to tip the entire thing on its side before it even took off. But the skycar stayed upright - which was a miracle in and of itself.

In his ear, Erar heard the leaders of the two squads that formed his security radio in that they were loaded and ready to embark on his orders. Erar reached up and manipulated the controls of his vehicle, the engines humming with power and leaving the ground haltingly, before opening secure comms to each of the squads and ordering them off the ground as well. Erar felt much safer now that he was off the ground, speeding through the air at hundreds of miles per hour.

The fleeing slaver felt even safer when each of the skycar's of his security detail came alongside his, offering themselves as an extra layer of protection against any rockets that may be fired upon them from the ground - Erar's security were taking no chances, their reputations were on the line. Sighing with relief, Erar slumped into his seat, relaxing fully as the skycars to either side of his own came within two meters of his own. They were so close he could hear the humming of their engines, the one lugging that Krogan working doubly fast to compensate.

The trio of skycars left the residential Kima district behind and began making its way through a sparsely populated buffer district, between Kima and its largest close neighbor, the Kenzo district. Erar wondered then, the sight of Kenzo brought back memories of the Turian known only as Archangel, and his struggles against the Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse. Erar's people hadn't been involved in that little skirmish, the Turian never threatened his empire and Erar really didn't mind if some mystery man was going about eliminating his competition.

He shook his head, though no one could see him. This smelled differently to him. This shadow was unknown, everyone who came into contact with it while it was acting as the shadow had perished. They had all died in a particularly grizzly fashion, not just been dropped and left. This shadow was making a statement.

Erar was startled out of his musings by the voice of one of the squad leaders, informing him that they were five minutes from his private docks. Five minutes away from safety. Soon Erar would be aboard the flagship of his small fleet of vessels, bound for home. He would lick his wounds, he would contact his contacts, so help him he would find this shadow and when he did he would return with all the fury this fight has given him. He would-

Terror swept over Erar like a Tsunami sweeping through a tropical resort, men and women dashed against walls like rag dolls thrown against an angry child's bedroom, as the skycar to the right of him suddenly burst into flames, debris slamming into the side of Erar's craft. An involuntary scream of alarm left his throat, as his skycar's computer registered the danger and corrected its course, to take Erar from the brunt of the blast. They only had three more minutes to go and they would be at their destination - safe behind walls of solid steel and airlocks.

But it was not meant to be, for as Erar and the remaining skycar took evasive action for what they thought was ground fire, it too burst into flames. This time it took out only one of the sleek black vehicles engines, but that was enough to send the craft into a death spin that took it straight into a supporting column, where it burst into flames, the fuel igniting in a fireball that rolled at least ten yards out into space.

His hands flying over the controls, the Batarian punched the skycar over to manual control and piloted it through the field of debris thrown into the air by his exploding security detail. Huge cracks and dents appeared all over the car as parts beat down upon it from all sides, but eventually he was clear of the explosions and only two minutes from his destination. Erar's hands were white upon the controls, fists clenched, but he was sure he would make it. The shadow must have been using some kind of guided rocket system, the kind that would lock onto a skycar's planned path and send a rocket to intercept, but on manual it was impossible to predict what the Batarian would do next.

Erar's stomach lurched deep inside him as his own skycar suddenly went out of control, a hole suddenly appearing in the vehicles hood and a black substance spewing from it, coating the windshield and blinding the Batarian. He tested the controls, but to his horror he found they had no power, as his car began to rapidly descend, the Batarian behind the controls screaming in horror.

From his vantage point, overlooking the district where he planned his attack, the shadow nodded in appreciation of his work, watching as the Batarian's skycar slammed down onto a deserted, long abandoned docking bay for freighters, sparks flying as the car skidded along before slamming into the far wall and coming to rest. Sitting beside him on the outcropping of a building was his rifle, the rifle that had seen him through so many encounters like this one. The shadow reached out, collapsing the bi pod he'd used to steady his aim for that last shot and slipping it over his back.

At this late hour the streets of this district were empty, the dirt poor residents buttoned up inside their hovels, lest some thug come by to take what you worked for that day. No one saw the commotion, and even if they did, the residents here were rabbits, not buzzards.

There was a brief flare of light, and then the shadow disappeared, cloaked.

There was fire and smoke. When he opened all four of his eyes, Erar was slumped over the controls of the skycar, shattered glass coating every surface. A violent coughing fit took him then, and he lifted a hand to his mouth, warm liquid splattered his hand and Erar looked down, through the smoke in the cab to see bright crimson coating his palm. There was a loud pain, like the engines of a dreadnaught, roaring in his ears as he pulled himself out of the driver's seat by placing a hand on the passenger's. Glass cut deep into his palm as he did so, but it was a small price to pay for reaching the lever that opened the skycar's hatch.

His legs didn't seem to move right and Erar had to pull himself from inside the skycar. The world spun on its axis like a top, forcing Erar to close his eyes and focus on moving by touch. He moved himself hand over hand, gripping the ground to pull himself away from the skycar, which could explode outwards at any moment. It was impossible for Erar to tell time, there was just the roaring in his head and the screaming of his limbs in protest. He didn't know if he'd been crawling for five minutes or five hours, when his hand reached out and fell upon something leathery, jutting from the ground. His hand traveled up until it encountered the much harder material of a lightweight armor suit.

Erar opened his eyes out of curiosity, the world coming back to him, right side up this time, but with doubles of everything. He lay before a tall figure, his blurred vision tricked him at first, seeing four eyes in the thing's head. "Wh- why?" he coughed defeatedly, "Why kill your own?"

Then the figure knelt down, the blurry features resolving. The four dark eyes in its skull resolved into two pale blue orbs, staring down at him. "A, a human." Erar let go of his hunter's leg with the kind of disgust evident in his face "A fucking savage."

The pale figure regarded Erar. A short, curly mop of ginger hair sat atop his head, spilling down to just below his ears, concealing them from view. Two pale blue eyes looked down at him with a mixture of pity and hate. A smatter of brownish things Erar didn't know were freckles were tossed across medium sized nose and full cheeks. His skin was the pallor of the man who spent too much time inside, though Erar figured that was a misconception, this man must be afflicted with one of the humans' numerous genetic defects.

Clutched in hands a little too small to be considered manly was a giant rifle, jet black, like the armor the man wore. A long scope reached from an inch in front of the stock to just above a port in the side of the weapon. Mounted on the rifle's stock was a small carrying pouch, from which glittered five of the bullets - these ones still in their casings - like the one that killed Bolou and his companion. The barrel of the rifle extended much further than the stock, by at least a foot. Attached to the stock was a bi pod, Erar knew what those were for and he realized with a start that the single hole that appeared in the hood of his skycar was caused by the weapon he now looked at.

"My name is Char."

And his view of the world became much, much smaller. The Batarian was in no shape to stop the human, as he extended the index and pinkie fingers of his right hand and jammed them into both his upper eyes. Erar was only able to scream in agony as the savage's fingers broke two of his eyes open, the organ pulverized by the sudden, brutal attack. He screamed and his body jerked, arms going up to weakly claw at the savage's own eyes, but unable to reach high enough to do so - all Erar could do was flail his legs and bat like a newborn at the shadow's wiry arms. Over his own screams, he could hear the enraged grunts of the human who tore out his perfect eyes. Erar felt the human's thumb close over the dome of his skull and the human's knuckles against his face.

And he wished for death. Erar knew that this human would kill him, he only hoped there was a modicum of mercy left in the man to leave his other eyes alone, so that he might find his way to the afterlife. Soon he would see his partners again, they would speak over drinks about the man who killed them, plan for when he, too died and the horrors they would commit upon him then. The pain was impossible, he felt like he was going to throw up, his mouth was dry but somehow spittle and bile escaped from between his lips, parted in a scream that reverberated off the walls and echoed out across this nearly deserted district. Erar was sure that somewhere in the maze of haphazardly constructed dwellings, a mother was clutching her children tight and telling them not to be afraid.

Then, as abruptly as the savagery had begun, he felt the human pull his fingers from the ruined eye sockets, then wipe the blood and cartilage on the front of Erar's armor. He continued to yell in fear and pain, his view of the world half gone, but beginning to spin again. Deep down, in his very soul, Erar panicked. "Please, kill...me." he begged, knowing the kind of world a Batarian with only two of his eyes would live in.

Char grasped him by the breast piece of his armor and hauled him to his feet, spinning the limp Batarian around to slam him against a nearby wall. "Remember this," the human growled from between clenched teeth "remember a family beaten and bloodied. Remember a store destroyed and a child pressed into servitude.

"Remember all the pain and torment you've caused in your life, Batarian. Remember families destroyed for your profits. Remember bright futures destroyed by your Red Sand. Remember all the injustice you've caused in the name of personal gain."

The pain was unbearable, blood running from the ruined sockets of his once gorgeous eyes, down into the two that remained. The roaring in his head, accompanied by the roaring of the enraged human. The sharp stabs every time he took a breath. Erar knew he would die soon.

"Now remember this feeling, Two Eyes. Remember it, because you're going to have the rest of your life to contemplate it." Char threw the Batarian bodily to the ground. Erar's world was spinning and his vision was almost completely dark by now, he felt himself falling back into the darkness, the final understandable words to him bouncing about in his mind "Deploy Medi Gel."

Afterlife was jumping at all hours of the day and night. The thump of the club's massive subwoofers audible districts away, causing drinks to ripple and tables to vibrate. Outside club, neon flames lighting eager faces that clamored to get in, shouting ridiculous statements at the Elcor doormen in hopes of gaining entrance. A line of skycars steadily disembarked very important people, to walk right up the club's front steps and inside. The VIPs dressed in their club finery, chatted as they walked up the front steps, oblivious to the rabble trying to get in behind them.

Sitting behind the controls of one of these skycars, Char held his sidearm - a custom pistol with six revolving chambers that also fired real bullets - to the Batarian's temple. A shroud was looped around Erar's head, obscuring sound as well as what little vision he retained. The Batarian, the effects of the pain drugs still running through his system, sat in the chair and mumbled unintelligible remarks about savages and slaves and the proper place for everyone in the universe. The human, for his part, ignored the insane ramblings of this madman, waiting for their turn in the procession of cars disgorging passengers into the nightclub.

Char tapped lightly against the controls, in rhythm with the beat from inside. A neon glint caught his eye and made him look over at his pistol, still steady as a rock to the Batarian's head. The light had caught off the reflective surface of a very old symbol hardly recognizable to most humans nowadays. Stamped deep into the steel of his weapon was a flag of red, white and blue, fifty stars evident in the upper left of the flag. The sniper smiled to himself, there was a similar stamp on his sniper rifle, laying in the backseat. The three and a half centuries old symbol of freedom.

It was their turn now, and Char maneuvered the skycar into place before opening the passenger door. In a single swift movement, Char dropped his sidearm into the backseat, grasped the shroud Erar had draped around his face, and - bracing his foot against the slaver's side - pushed him bodily out of the skycar. Erar fell to the ground with a meaty thump, letting out a single groan of pain. A pair of armed bouncers - Batarians - saw the scuffle and drew their weapons to investigate, but were already too late when the weapons were at high port.

The hatch closed the moment Erar hit the ground, and Char accelerated the skycar away, leaving the bleeding mass of broken bones - once a proud Batarian slaver named Erar Dar'ai - on the front steps.

"Justice." Char spoke softly to himself, as he let the skycar's onboard nav systems take over and blend into the slow of traffic. Yes, justice had been done that day.