Aria was angry. Very angry.

It wasn’t like her to show too many emotions. It was a sign of weakness to be distraught, to be upset. But she couldn’t help her anger. A new gang had arrived on Omega. Foolishly, she ignored it. And for her ignorance, Patriarch was dead.

It wasn’t that she liked Patriarch. She wasn’t fond of the krogan, like some little girl with too many emotions. But his advice was, admittedly, good. She listened to it more than she’d admit. She had grown to respect him, his opinions, just a bit. Now he was gone, because of her own foolishness. And she was angry.

Afterlife was empty. The club, usually stuffed with people and a long line waiting for a turn to come in, was deserted. Tables were turned over, glasses smashed. And Aria sat, hands on her head, heaving in anger as tears of bitter hatred streamed. A few bodies of those who had foolishly lingered littered the ground. She’d kill that new gang. Every last one of them.

She wished Patriarch was here to give his advice.