Mass Effect™: Retribution Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Drew Karpyshyn
gone now. So who are you staying clean for? Liselle? Aria? They won’t care if you dust up, just as long as you don’t let it get in the way of a job
.
During his last nine years with Cerberus, Grayson had been using regularly. Over that time, he’d never once let his addiction interfere with an assignment. But things were different now. He wasn’t an undercover operative using his daughter to infiltrate an exclusive biotic training program. He was a man on the run; he had to stay sharp. Any given second of any given day could be his last.
Cerberus will find you. It’s inevitable. So why not enjoy life until then. Ten kilos of red sand. Just one little hit. No one’s going to miss it. No one will even know
.
Grayson pushed the chair away from the extranet terminal and stood up slowly. He made his way from the bedroom down the hall, through the kitchen and sitting room, and over to the packets of red sand still piled just inside the door. He picked up all five bags, cradling them awkwardly in his arms, then took them back into the bedroom. Kneeling down, he slid them under the bed one by one. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it was better than leaving them out in the open.
When he was done, he stood up and went into the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed a small patch of pink residue on the front of hiscombat vest. He remembered that one of the bags had been punctured in the attack.
Damn batarians couldn’t even seal it properly
.
Brushing it away, he felt the fine granules rubbing coarsely against his palm. Most of them fell into the sink, but some adhered to his skin.
He held his palm up to his face, close enough so that he could make out each tiny, individual grain of sand clinging to his flesh. He stared at them for a long second, then shook his head and slipped his hands into the sink. The action triggered the faucet’s motion sensor, and a stream of warm water washed the temptation down the drain.
Five minutes later he was changed into his civilian clothes and headed out the door. Walking at a smooth, easy pace, he reached the club in nearly twenty minutes.
As always, there was a throng of people outside waiting to get in. Human, asari, turian, krogan, batarian, volus, elcor: Afterlife catered to individuals from every species. But Aria had strict rules about crowd control, and those outside clamoring to get in would have to wait for some of the revelers inside to leave—or be carried out—before the guards at the door would grant them access.
The line stretched the entire length of the massive building, then disappeared around the corner at the end of the block. It would be hours before those at the tail end found their way inside. Fortunately for Grayson, friends of Aria didn’t have to wait in line.
The krogan bouncer at the entrance recognized him, and let him in with a nod. Grayson passed through the short hall that led from the entrance intothe ground-floor foyer, where a pair of scantily clad asari stood preening behind the coat check counter.
The asari weren’t alone in the room, however. Two large, heavily armed and armored krogan flanked the sealed double doors leading to the hedonistic pleasures on the other side.
Outside, the music from the club was so muted and faint it could barely be heard above the noises of the street. Here, however, only a single insulated wall separated patrons from the waves of sound. Grayson could feel the beat from inside the club thrumming in his teeth—low, heavy, and fast.
“Anything to check?” one of the krogan growled, speaking loud enough to make sure he could be heard over the music.
Grayson shook his head. Many of the club-goers preferred to leave their valuables with the asari behind the counter, especially if they intended to end the evening too drunk or stoned to keep track of their belongings. Grayson, however, had no such intention.
The krogan stepped aside as the asari pushed open the doors. Taking a deep
.
During his last nine years with Cerberus, Grayson had been using regularly. Over that time, he’d never once let his addiction interfere with an assignment. But things were different now. He wasn’t an undercover operative using his daughter to infiltrate an exclusive biotic training program. He was a man on the run; he had to stay sharp. Any given second of any given day could be his last.
Cerberus will find you. It’s inevitable. So why not enjoy life until then. Ten kilos of red sand. Just one little hit. No one’s going to miss it. No one will even know
.
Grayson pushed the chair away from the extranet terminal and stood up slowly. He made his way from the bedroom down the hall, through the kitchen and sitting room, and over to the packets of red sand still piled just inside the door. He picked up all five bags, cradling them awkwardly in his arms, then took them back into the bedroom. Kneeling down, he slid them under the bed one by one. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it was better than leaving them out in the open.
When he was done, he stood up and went into the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed a small patch of pink residue on the front of hiscombat vest. He remembered that one of the bags had been punctured in the attack.
Damn batarians couldn’t even seal it properly
.
Brushing it away, he felt the fine granules rubbing coarsely against his palm. Most of them fell into the sink, but some adhered to his skin.
He held his palm up to his face, close enough so that he could make out each tiny, individual grain of sand clinging to his flesh. He stared at them for a long second, then shook his head and slipped his hands into the sink. The action triggered the faucet’s motion sensor, and a stream of warm water washed the temptation down the drain.
Five minutes later he was changed into his civilian clothes and headed out the door. Walking at a smooth, easy pace, he reached the club in nearly twenty minutes.
As always, there was a throng of people outside waiting to get in. Human, asari, turian, krogan, batarian, volus, elcor: Afterlife catered to individuals from every species. But Aria had strict rules about crowd control, and those outside clamoring to get in would have to wait for some of the revelers inside to leave—or be carried out—before the guards at the door would grant them access.
The line stretched the entire length of the massive building, then disappeared around the corner at the end of the block. It would be hours before those at the tail end found their way inside. Fortunately for Grayson, friends of Aria didn’t have to wait in line.
The krogan bouncer at the entrance recognized him, and let him in with a nod. Grayson passed through the short hall that led from the entrance intothe ground-floor foyer, where a pair of scantily clad asari stood preening behind the coat check counter.
The asari weren’t alone in the room, however. Two large, heavily armed and armored krogan flanked the sealed double doors leading to the hedonistic pleasures on the other side.
Outside, the music from the club was so muted and faint it could barely be heard above the noises of the street. Here, however, only a single insulated wall separated patrons from the waves of sound. Grayson could feel the beat from inside the club thrumming in his teeth—low, heavy, and fast.
“Anything to check?” one of the krogan growled, speaking loud enough to make sure he could be heard over the music.
Grayson shook his head. Many of the club-goers preferred to leave their valuables with the asari behind the counter, especially if they intended to end the evening too drunk or stoned to keep track of their belongings. Grayson, however, had no such intention.
The krogan stepped aside as the asari pushed open the doors. Taking a deep