Mass Effect: The Forgotten Soul

Chapter Sixteen: Spectre or Ghost?

About two hours later, they had left the bar, thinking about how to get to the Spectre. Much to the chagrin of Velpia, she would be the bait. The idea was simple enough; they would make very obvious inquiries in the city while parading her around. If they were lucky, they would get a tip before the Spectre. She protested, of course, but as infantile as the plan was, and if Martin was right, they would have a response soon enough.

They slowly moved through the city on foot, talking to anyone that would spare the moment. As night fell, they made their way to the leisure district.

The muffled music booms and bright lights illuminated the crowded sidewalks as they made their way through. "Really wish we had time to stop," Velpia said.

"Nightclubs are not really my scene." She laughed as they continued walking. "Your right. Getting blackout drunk and losing your pants is much more your scene." Martin's face turned redder than it already was from the cold. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that!" Velpia lifted her arms out in defense, noticing his embarrassment. "I didn't agree to anything."

"And that's why I don't party with you anymore," he snipped. "Admit it; you just can't keep your pants on around me." She fired while looking down at him.

They started to circle back around to their buggy. They had given up on talking to the locals. Most refused to talk or just weren't worth the time.

"You seem to like it here, well, more than Omega anyways." Martin kept walking; she was right. If he closed his eyes hard enough and forgot who he was, He could pretend this was Earth if he wanted to. "It's familiar, but not what I'd call home."

"Where do you consider home?" Martin didn't know how to answer the question and remained quiet. He always thought of himself as more of a nomad. In one way or another, he had been on the move since childhood.

"Nice, way to dodge the question." Martin looked over at her for a quick moment. "How can I answer something I don't know?"

They rounded the corner to a less populated street and down to an open parking lot where they parked their buggy. "Ugh, finally, we can stop walking," Velpia complained.

"You're really that tired? We've only been walking for six and a half hours." Martin boasted as he headed for the driver's side.

"Not everyone has the stamina of a demi-god." She climbed into the buggy from the driver's side and moved to the passenger seat.

"Sounds like you're complaining."

Martin was right beside her as something smacked into the chin of her helmet and ricocheted into his chest. A sharp crack echoed three seconds after they were hit.

Martin was knocked to the ground, shocked by the round and terrified by the initial plastic thack sound from her face.

He panicked, realizing what had happened, and scrambled to get back on his feet, disregarding the pain coming from his chest. He saw her on her back, unconscious, spread out across the seats with her head hanging out of the buggy. The bottom of her helmet smashed and cracked, exposing parts of her face.

Martin tried staying low as he tugged Velpia by her shoulders out of the vehicle. A second thwack ricocheted off the front of the car, again followed by the crack a few seconds later.

He managed to pull her to the ground as another shot whizzed overhead.

Martin had to stay low. The buggy couldn't provide the cover he needed to fire back or move. It was an open frame design, entirely exposed, besides the engine compartment and floor. He remained on the ground, pushed up against the buggy's wheels pulling Velpia closer to shield her from any more gunfire. His mind was in a frenzy, trying to hear her breathing or find a pulse.