Let's rewrite this a bit...
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The towers stretch into the sky. Gleaming spires of purple and silver, a singular monument to ambition, ego, and a lustful hunger for pure, material power. A single bridge connects them, high up, winds whipping the cables and connectors. It is a glorious tower, a mountain of majesty. A singular, towering spire.
"I could jump that." Testing her knees, the human woman with shoulder length red hair, clad in white, sectioned armor rolls her neck, and turns to her companions.
The turian twitches his mandibles. Slowly, he looks up to the top of the tower, towards the penthouse.
"You're sure about this?" Garrus Vakarian asks, "You're sure you don't want to be part of Plan A and just, you know, use an elevator?"
"Faster," she responds, "You take," She points at the brunette in the white catsuit, "Miranda and," she points at the wide hipped, two fingered woman in the form fitting bodysuit and mask, "Tali and keep an eye out for civilians. Make noise and keep Nassana distracted. I'm going to go to the roof and intercept the assassin."
"I'm reasonably sure we don't need an assassin," Tali says, "Shepard, there's a non-zero chance you could punch a Reaper."
"Backup's good. Just in case."
Sharp breathes inhaled and exhaled. She swings her arms back and forth, squatting down as her green eyes begin to take on an emerald and golden glow.
And Jane Shepard, Citadel Spectre, N7 soldier, and something else entirely, shoots into the sky with a single jump.
"Clock's ticking," Garrus says, reaching behind him, pulling out his rifle, "Let's go."
They begin walking in, Miranda looking up, trying to spot the black speck that Shepard is by this point. She shakes her head, pulling out her pistol and switching off the safety.
"I hate it when she does that," she mutters.
"You're just jealous that Cerberus hasn't figured out how to do that," Tali says with a small laugh.
"No, I've figured it out," Miranda responds, glaring at the quarian, "It's just that it would take more eezo being jammed into you than the drive core of an Asari Dreadnought. Garrus is right, though. Clock's ticking."
And they enter the tower, gunshots marking their passage. And up the side of the building, a single, solitary figure runs up, towards the roof. And a symbol of the sun blazing on her forehead.
Floors pass in a blur. Four floors at a time, the white and silver blur shoots into the sky, each handhold turning into another impossible leap. The surface of Illium recedes further and further as she ascends, leaping turning into feet on the side of the building, a run of impossible speeds propelling her skyward.
Glass cracks beneath her feet. Metal warps under her heel. She floors pass in a blur as she approaches the zenith of the tower, skidding to a stop and climbing up in front of a clear, blue lined window. A dark blue skinned woman with tentacles sprouted from the back of her head is yelling orders, pacing across the office in a blue and red, tight dress. Three soldiers in armor, one with a blue outline around him, stand at attention, scanning the room, guarding her.
Nassana Dantius. She remembers her. Two years ago, she was a diplomatic attache on the Citadel who tricked her into killing Dahlia Dantius, her own sister. And rumor has it that she hasn't gotten any nicer since.
Now, how to do this, she thinks. And smiling, she raises her fist.
If it were anyplace but opulent, wealthy Illium, they would have heard her coming. Instead, the soundproofing proved to be their downfall.
The impact on the reinforced glass got their attention. Training took over, twisting instantly and aiming weapons. Nassana turned as well, raising a hand, blue streams of light flaring into existence around her as she turns from her desk and the reports to the window. Biotic fields coalesced around her head and hands.
And then died out in shock.
Ahead of them was impossibility on impossibility. Commander Jane Shepard, former Citadel Spectre, current dead woman, grinned behind thick windows designed to take an anti-material strike. There was no significant ledge for her to stand on, no climbing gear. She hung against the glass surface by her toe tips and one palm pressed against the smooth surface, rapping her her knuckles. Which cause the glass to begin to spiderweb.
Training took over.
Missiles, ammo, and biotics impact the glass with the raw power to take down a gunship, much less a single human. Shepard rides the blast wave of compressed air and broken glass, arms out, twisting with supernatural, calm grace. Salarian gymnists couldn't match that display.
And then, somehow, she lands. Balls of her feet stand on glass shards the size of pebbles. She flit between the debris, walking across and between gunfire as if it weren't there, nearly too fast for the eyes to follow. The LOKI mechs in the room shut down, general faulting from errors in tracking her speed.
Nassana blinked, and Jane Shepard was in front of her.
She reaches on instinct, grabbing Nassana by the collar of her dress. A single motion and she goes flying, screaming, across the room. Red lights paint her chest and both sides of her head. The three highly paid, highly trained Eclipse mercs have her right in their sights.
Jane cranes her neck, an audible crack.
She exhales.
And she lurches back, to the side, gunshots passing by her, the two shots passing where her head ones, shields flaring in time with the two soldiers to either side swearing. A kick sends Nassana's desk chair flying, hitting the merc in front of the desk, Jane kicking off the desk and towards the one to her right.
She ducks, the stock of his assault rifle passing over her head, knocking a few red strands out of place before her foot catches him in the calves, swinging him up, hanging him in the air before she rises, brings her hand up, and slams her fist into his gut. He hits the floor hard enough to dent metal, bounces, and goes still.
She hears the second charging. She steps to the side, the blade formed from his omnitool passing by her in almost liquid slow motion. She grabs the wrist, squeezes. The blade disappears with the crack of his carpals. She twists, bends him down, a kick to his gut sending him rising into the air, and a punch sending him flying across a room longer than an Olympic swimming pool.
He hits the wall next to Nassana. Jane hears her whimper, and it makes her smile.
Bullets fly and her reflexes take over. Her hands become a blur, swatting aside hypersonic projectiles with her armored palms. The room has begun to glow, washed in yellow and red, replacing the dim blue lighting of the office.
She savors the look of confusion on the face of the final merc as his rifle clicks to empty and he realizes she's swatted aside every single one of his shots. And grabbing a handhold, she savors the look for a moment more before she hurls the desk at him.
The room is silent save for the falling glass, crackling of the disconnected wires where the desk was, and the whimpering on the other side of the room. Boots crunch the glass shards. The golden light begins to fade. Catching a sight of herself on one of the full wall mirrors flanking either side of the room, she notices the green lines running up the seams of her armor.
A pattern, curved and sharp angled, over her. Like the Beacon. And the golden disc still upon her brow, fading as she dials it down. Fading as her eyes go from glowing emeralds to a simple green, her hair going from liquid fire to shoulder length and red.
She puts that out of mind, for now.
"Nassana," she says, running the name over her tongue as the Asari stares at her, back up against the wall, "It's been so long. How's the family?"
She whimpers, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"Y...you," she says, "Y-you're dead!"
Jane smiles.
"I got better. Let's chat."
She grabs her by the collar, hauling her to her feet, turning and walking towards the window and dragging Nassana with her.
"What are you doing?" Nassana demands, feet dragging, grabbing at her wrist, hem of her dress tearing at the broken glass, torn metal, eyes going wide as realization hits her, "Shepard! What are you doing?! Don't do this don't do this don't do this-"
And reaching the window, Jane thrusts out her arm, holding the asari over the edge, over the drop to Illium below. Panicked begging and pleading turns to a panicked scream, holding onto Jane's wrist in a death grip. Jane savors the sight. The collected and confident manipulator reduced to a wordless, terrified shriek.
"I'm disappointed," Jane says, "I gave you two years. I thought you were done with this when you manipulated me to kill your slaver, terrorist, drug dealing sister. But no. Now you kill your rivals. Now you kill your workers just because. You weren't on my list, Nassana. But you're there now."
Wordless screaming. Jane looks down, sees something dripping from Nassana's dress.
"Listen carefully," Jane says, "You have two options. The first one is that I drop you. That I let you fall, and splatter you so hard against the surface that they never declare you dead. The second is that you do every single thing I say. Clear?"
A panicked nod. Tears streaming down the Asari's face.
"You're going to change. You're going to be the best damn boss you can. You're going to pay reparations to the families every single person you killed. And then you're going to devote every single moment of the rest of your life to making this world a better place. You're going to make Illium a better world, and not just Omega with better shoes. Understood?"
"Yes," Nassana chokes, "Yes! I will! I will! Don't drop me!!"
"Swear," Jane growls, teeth grinding.
"I swear," the asari whimpers, "I swear by the Goddess I will do every last thing that you-"
She pulls her close. She sees the golden circle upon her brow reflected in Nassana's eyes.
"Swear to me."
Nassana's breath comes out in short choking spurts. Her eyes, unblinking, go wide, her chest heaving with every breath, every second as her feet impotently kick at the air.
"I swear to you," she whispers, "I swear to you. Please, I swear to you."
"Good." And Jane turns, and tosses Nassana back into her office.
The asari bounces once, twice, rolling to a stop at the feet of the green and yellow skinned man in the leather coat and open shirt, curling into fetal position and shakily sobbing into her sleeves. The door opens to the office. Garrus at lead, he, Tali, and Miranda enter.
Tali laughs, surveying the carnage. "Oh, this never gets old," she says.
"Thane Krios?" Jane asks, hopping off the windowsill.
Thane stares down at the barely conscious Nassana. He cocks an eyebrow, and turns back to Jane.
"I was hired to kill her," he says.
"Don't bother," Jane says, "She's better than dead."
Thane grunts. A disappointed sigh. A single thought, and Jane sees him. Sees him. She sees him in detail, seeing the air around him, inside him. Sees something she didn't know before. The two circle, Nassana climbing to her knees and crawling behind Thane, putting him between her and Shepard.
"You're sick," she says.
"I'm dying," Thane responds, "Kepral syndrome. Killing her was supposed to be my last job."
Nassana blinks. She realizes the drell had been sent to kill her. Despite that, she still hides behind him.
"Don't bother," Jane says, "Nassana's not a danger. She's going to make this world a better place. She swore to me." She grins, faintly. Balls a gauntleted fist. "I'm hunting the Collectors. They're abducting humans, and I need your help to stop them."
"A worthy cause."
"And in return for helping me, and as a show of good faith, I'll cure you."
He cocks an eyebrow. Blinks sideways, twists his lip faintly.
"I understand your reasons for sparing her, but mockery is not necessary," Thane says, "I will work for you, but base manipulation is not needed for-"
She braces her left foot, bringing her right hand back languidly, slowly, the green lines running up the seams of her armor, her eyes solidifying to glowing emeralds, the golden disc flaring to life upon her brow. Something awakens. Something casting whispers upon the air. Something gathering as the golden light bathes the room.
And her fist strikes Thane's bare chest. Black and red explodes outwards, passing through skin, armor, and leather, through his personal barriers, through the air, splattering over the floor behind him. And some painting Nassana's face, eliciting a fresh round of screaming from her.
Thane steps back, chokes, and takes a deep breath. A deeper breath than he has in some very long time. And summing up his reaction in a soft, flat,
"What."
She does not answer, instead grabbing him by the crook of his arm and drags him with her towards her team.
"Civilians?"
"Found two sets locked in side rooms," Garrus responds, "Our assassin here is apparently a good samaritan."
Nassana continues screaming, finally collapsing onto her seat in short, shaken, rattling breaths. Jane shrugs.
"Good," she says, "Let's go."
She gently shoves the deeply breathing, dazed Thane to Tali, who escorts him out. Miranda shakes her head, following them, and Garrus and Jane look down upon the shaking, saucer eyed Asari staring at them.
"Be good," Jane says, "Or I'll be back."
She waves, over her shoulder, as she walks out with the turian behind her. And Nassana Dantius slowly, shakily waves back, before collapsing unconscious against the floor of her ruined office.
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Mass Effect:
Glorious Shotgun Princess
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