Fuck. The lights were practically to the pace to the pace of your heartbeat. You could feel the base of the music in your bones. God you hated being on Omega. But alas you were a fugitive, wanted for a list of crimes. But alas, you made it absolute hell for the gangs to do anything about it. You made sure to 'clean house' anytime one of them tried to disturb you.

You made your way further into the club before going downstairs, and entering a locked room, letting out a slight cough as you left the smokey environment, the music now just muffled sounds above you. Your little 'base' was one hell of a mess, but you'd worry about that later. You moved to your desk, sitting back as you began to take care of a gunshot wound in your stomach. Yeah. You got shot by one of those bastard 'Blue Suns' idiots. You felt like shit, but you were used to it in a way.

After having extracted the bullet, cleaned the wound, and now beginning the process of stitching it up, you heard the door open. You were a little slow on the draw considering your hands were occupied. Which let the intruder disarm you with ease. The intruder was a Turian

The Turian pushed you back into your chair by your shoulder before. Judging by his blue and white armor, the Turian practically screamed 'C-SEC' to you. He then grabbed your waist, opposite of your wound, and applying Omni-Gel to it.

The Turian cleared his throat "So. You're that fugitive all over the terminals. Good with weapons, and an effective pain in the ass to the law. Quite the misfit you are. But, lucky enough for you, my friend, Commander Shepard, could use someone with your skillset.”