Kasumi Goto moved away from the ladder and looked around the pale concrete tube of the storm drain. There was nobody in sight. She cursed silently. Whoever had interrupted that meeting had cost her dearly. After many months, she might actually have an ally with the resources to help her make a run at Donovan Hock's compound.

But it might not be a total loss, she mused. After all, Nos Astra had a Continental hotel. It should be possible to re-contact the Organization man she'd been talking with. Provided she could get into the Continental, of course.

She flickered back into existence to check her omni-tool. Part of the problem with being effectively invisible to others was that you were also invisible to yourself. Kasumi scrolled through a map of the drains and set in her mind the path to the exit point nearest the Nos Astra Continental.

Once ready, she re-cloaked and moved away. Fortunately there hadn't been much rain recently, so the storm drain only had a sluggish trickle of water in its bottom center. If it had been more flooded, she would have had to choose a different exit strategy. It did no good to be invisible yet splashing through water.

Kasumi thought back on her talk with the Organization representative. She needed his resources, but she was also leery of his ultimate aim. It was obvious that, if they were to successfully recover Keiji's graybox, then he would want to erase it.

The thief's lips thinned in an invisible grimace. She would be dead before she let that happen. Keiji had been a revelation to her. Before their unexpected meeting, Kasumi's experiences with intimacy had been a never-ending string of one-night-stands. It was pleasant, to be sure. Especially if her conquest had a nice set of abs. But being with Keiji had made her realize just how much she'd been missing.

And now she knew true loss, because he was dead. Yes, he was a thief and a traitor to the Alliance. But he was still hers and he deserved a better end than to have his skull cut open by some sadistic bastard with more money than King Midas.

Kasumi suddenly realized she could hear someone humming ahead. She peeked around the corner and saw a young man with a pretty face and short and spiky blond hair. He stood next to the ladder which led to her planned exit.

The youngster checked his omni-tool, cleared his throat, and began speaking. "Hi, I really hope that I'm not talking to thin air like some kind of a nut. I'm here just in case there was an attack and you came this way. We had an idea of about how fast you would travel, so right about now you should be reaching here. Don't worry, I'm here to help. My name's Mackie."

Kasumi's eyes narrowed as she ghosted closer. This could be a trap, set by whoever had attacked the plaza. "If you're here to help, then step back from the ladder," she whispered.

The blonde complied with a sunny smile. It was a smile that made her feel oddly at ease. Kasumi moved closer, and set a foot on a ladder rung with an audible thunk. Then she shuffled back silently and waited to see if he'd launch an attack the ladder.

Instead, Mackie looked up at the exit above. "Um, do you mind if I come up?" he called.

Kasumi moved behind him. "I changed my mind," she said, this time not whispering. "You go up first so I can keep an eye on you."

The young man flinched a bit, but did as she asked. At the top of the ladder was a little landing with some stairs leading up to a pair of bulkhead doors. Mackie stayed well clear of the ladder while she came up behind him; he definitely was trying to appear nonthreatening.

"Can I call my boss?" he asked.

"Not yet. I want to be inside the Continental before that. Just in case you aren't who you say you are."

"Fair enough. You want me to lead?"

"What do you think?"

"That'll be a yes, then."

Outside, it was still bright sunshine in a clear blue sky. The soaring facade of the Nos Astra Continental was only about a block away. Mackie walked confidently towards it, acting as if he didn't have an invisible woman in his wake.

----------------------------------------

There were four of the armored figures, all wearing Eclipse colors. Nathan saw one of the merc's shots spark off of his emergency shield. That was two shots stopped, and the shield unit had maybe enough energy to stop two more. He stopped his flight dead and lurched inelegantly to the right. There was a bench nearby with some large planters on either side. It wasn't great cover, but it was better than nothing.

"Surround him!" barked one of the mercs. "Where's the one in the black suit?"

The reply was panting; this merc had clearly just run up. That made five men. "No sign of 'im. He might have run off when the shooting started."

"You hear that, my man?" the first merc called towards Nathan.

Nathan said nothing. He had some idea of how fast John could move while keeping unseen. Let's see, given that speed plus the distance to the plaza's edge John should be here right about...

As if on cue there was a flurry of shots and yelling. Nathan peeked out and saw that one of the men was prone with his head twisted clean around. Another was on his stomach with John twisting his arm behind him. The operative held that arm while trading shots with the remaining three; Nathan could see shots impacting John's own shield. One of the three went down, but it was still two on one.

Two on one, that is, until a figure in a black-and-white catsuit appeared behind them and gave each of them a shot to the head. As they dropped, John gave the man whose arm he held a similar execution-style shot to the head.

Nathan was pleased that his legs weren't shaking too badly as he stood and approached John and Persephone.

"Time to move, I think," said the asari.

John just nodded.

Persephone gave Nathan a once-over. "Are you all right?"

"Just rattled a bit," he replied.

They ran out of the plaza. Nathan's adrenaline was still going strong, and he found he could keep up with his much fitter comrades for the moment. Thankfully, there was no further attacks as they ran. Their getaway aircar was stashed in a nearby alley.

Nathan let out a sigh of relief as the canopy closed. John eased the aircar up out of the alley and drove slowly and carefully away from the plaza. Several police flitters with flashing lights tore overhead in the opposite direction. Persephone patted his shoulder. "Good job on talking with her, Nathan," she said. "I was sure she was going to vanish."

"She stayed because she needs us," replied Nathan. "I understand that now. But I'm worried about where the hell Okuda's graybox wound up. She's a master thief. Why would she need our help?" He rubbed his forehead. "I only hope our hunch is correct as to where she'd go next. The best way to proceed is if Mackie can re-establish contact with her."

"He hasn't checked in yet," said John. "So we head for the Continental."

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The Continental was about a hundred meters away. Mackie now felt better. This 'Ghost' character seemed reasonable. Paranoid, but reasonable. Mackie couldn't honestly blame her. In addition to being a wanted criminal, she had just been attacked by persons unknown.

He resisted the urge to glance around. Down in the drains, he thought he had caught sight of a ripple or two like a heat-shimmer in the air. Up in broad daylight, he might be able to see more. But trying to look would only make her more suspicious.

Speaking of suspicious...Mackie looked around and saw that the street was surprisingly free of foot traffic. He slowed to a stop.

"What is it?" came the whisper from behind him.

"Not sure," he murmured back. "It seems awfully-"

A huge crack of thunder and an explosion of pure white light went off in front of Mackie's face. The sensory overload drove him to his knees. He couldn't even hear himself screaming.

He looked behind him and could barely make out the cloaked figure of the woman, now no longer invisible. She staggered to her feet only to have several other figures surround her. He could only watch as she was led away in a daze. Mackie tried to get one of his feet under him, but then felt something kick his foot out from under him. He went down hard into the pavement.

Through streaming eyes, he could just make out a pair of feet in front of him. He looked up into a pair of shark-like eyes that he remembered very well.

"Hello there, Mr. Charon," said Kai Leng. "I owe you a little payback for that bottle to the head."

Mackie was able to turn his head just enough to roll with the punch which Leng delivered to his face. He still felt the crunch of his nose breaking, and his head fell backwards as he felt a flare of pain in his face.

He got his arms up and felt an cold sensation across one forearm. He saw that Leng now had a blade in his hand. A blade that was dripping and stained red.

Leng grabbed that forearm and then got to work on his face. There was a long, horrible, endless time of Mackie flailing his other arm and trying to fend off the blade which kept slashing his face with contemptuous ease. All the while Leng's smile grew wider.

After a bit his screams became more like bubbling sobs as blood filled his mouth and throat. He felt the blade go against his neck and knew that he'd reached the end, he was going to die bleeding like a stuck pig in the street...

There was a distant rattle of gunfire, and several shots ricocheted off of Leng's shield. He dropped Mackie in surprise and looked behind him, then back down at the ruined wreck of Mackie's face. He gave Mackie a wink and then dashed off.

There was a long, confused time that followed. There was a salarian dressed in the impeccable clothes of the Continental standing over him, then he saw John and Persephone join him. The last thing he saw before mercifully passing out was Nathan's face staring down at him in horror.

----------------------------------------

By the time Kasumi came to, she was sitting comfortably in a chair. It was a very nice chair, in a very nice hotel room. The decor was perhaps a little too beige and bland for her tastes, but it was still very nice.

A man in a gray suit with a narrow face was seated in a chair facing hers. He had a welcoming smile on his face that looked forced, as if he'd learned the expression from a book.

"Ms. Goto?" he said softly. "My name is Harper. I must first apologize for the manner in which you were brought here. Events happened more quickly than we expected, and they became a little more...violent than we wished. But rest assured, our intentions are good. We have a job for you."

She sat up in the chair and stared fixedly at Harper. "Do you always recruit people using flash-bangs and sedatives?"

Harper chuckled ruefully. "No. But given the situation, it was the best non-lethal method we had to hand."

Kasumi shook her head. "Keep your job. You've just cost me...you've cost me a great deal."

"You refer to the matter of recovering Keiji Okuda's graybox, correct?" replied Harper. She glared at him but didn't respond, so he continued. "We had suspicions of what happened to it, of course. Mr. Okuda's secrets were something that Cerberus was interested in purchasing from him. Unfortunately, we never got the chance to make the offer." He leaned forward. "But we can at least help you recover the graybox."

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She sighed. "Let me guess. You'll help me, if I do your little errand."

Harper held up his hands as if to placate her. "You misunderstand me. As far as Cerberus is concerned, we are simply paying you for a job. We're throwing in our assistance with the graybox as a bonus. And the person who you'll be working for...well, let's just say that he's got a reputation for helping people."

"I already had help lined up, you twit," grated Kasumi. "Until you started throwing flash-bangs around."

"The Organization is old," he replied. "It's tired. A bunch of people who confuse style with efficacy. They weren't even going to pay you." Harper leaned back. "We, on the other hand, can pay quite well. And to assist you, we have someone who specializes in prevailing against hopeless odds." He handed her a datapad. "Here are the details."

Kasumi read through it in increasing disbelief. This amount of money...it had been a long time since Kasumi was in danger of starving, but this would make her truly wealthy. The other details of the job were harder to swallow. She'd harbored a bit of a crush on the first human Spectre, along with a good chunk of the human population. The news of his apparent death had saddened her.

Aloud, she said "You want me to work with Shepard? I thought he was dead."

"I assure you, he's not," said Harper with a grin. "If you prefer, you can meet the Commander before taking the offer. Trust me, he will need your help just as much as you need his. The threat that the Collectors pose is serious."

Kasumi hated to admit it, but the novelty of fighting for a good cause rather than just for money did appeal to her. However, if she could get paid at the same time it would be even better. And if anybody could help her break into Hock's compound it would be Shepard.

----------------------------------------

Mackie felt the familiar grumble of the Helen's engines as he awoke. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. His face felt oddly stiff, and he realized his head was swathed in medi-gel and bandages.

"Mmm?" he mumbled.

A hand gripped his. "Mackie!" said Nathan. "Don't speak, it's okay. You're okay. Persephone and Camicia patched you up, and you're in the medbay on the Helen. We had to leave Illium, it was getting too hot there with both the cops and Cerberus chasing us."

Mackie made writing motions with one hand on the palm of his other hand. After a pause, he felt Nathan press a stylus and a datapad into his hands. It was harder than he expected to write while blind. He tried to write his questions in big, obvious capital letters.

HOW BAD FACE?

The long pause after that told Mackie all he needed to know. Nathan finally spoke. "It was mostly superficial cuts. There was one bad one right over both eyes, which is why you've got a bandage over them. But you shouldn't have any issues with sight. We should be able to uncover your eyes in a day or so." He patted Mackie's shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Mackie wanted to cry, but he couldn't muster the energy. So he kept writing.

GHOST?

Nathan sighed and filled Mackie in on what they'd found out. "And then we lost contact after Cerberus grabbed her," he finished. "Our best guess is that they want her to lead them to Okuda's graybox."

Mackie slumped back on the bed. It looked like they were down to their last ace-in-the-hole.

COIN?

Now the analyst chuckled. "That, at least, went as planned. She took it from me, and we're getting positional data from it. I can only hope that Cerberus let her keep the coin. It's the only way we can keep tracking her."

There was another pat. "It looks like she's headed back into Citadel space. It'll be a while before we get there. Plenty of time for you to heal up."

----------------------------------------

Even with modern nanoelectronics, there is only so much that one can pack into a volume the size of a gold coin. And John's team had to leave enough of the original gold in place to keep the weight and feel of the coin the same.

And so the coin given to Kasumi had a little transponder the size of a grain of rice embedded within it. The little transponder would every so often 'wake up' and search for an Extranet connection. If one was nearby, it would do a quick check to determine its location and then 'squirt' that information back into the Extranet as an email headed for a anonymous inbox owned by the Organization.

It was effective, but it meant that their tracking data was sporadic at best. John leaned his elbows on the mess table and looked again at the map they had so far of Kasumi's route.

"They are definitely in Citadel space by now," he said. "I just wish we could figure out where they're heading and get ahead of them."

Nathan crossed his arms. The analyst had been muted ever since the attack that had nearly killed Mackie. "She appears to be traveling commercial," he said. "That helps us, since we won't have the same delays that she'll experience. We should be able to get to her destination at the same time as she does."

Camicia was also at the table, but paid no attention to the map. Instead she was sharpening her knife. John knew that its edge was already fine enough to shave with, so this was clearly something she was doing to channel her anger.

"Good," said the turian. "Then I can show that Leng bastard how to properly use a knife."

The comm crackled, and Persephone's voice sounded. "All hands? It looks like the rest of Mackie's bandages are ready to come off."

----------------------------------------

At least Mackie had been able to see again after the first couple of days. And now he saw that the rest of the Helen's crew was crammed into the little medbay. Even Errol had his big head in Mackie's lap, looking up at his injured pack member with worried purple eyes. He felt Persephone remove the last few bandages from his face, and he automatically began running his hands over his uncovered skin.

Mackie could feel scars, lots of scars. There was so many that he couldn't really build up a mental picture of what he now looked like. He felt the beginning twinges of panic as he looked at his fellow crew. Their faces were neutral, but he couldn't tell if it was a 'he-doesn't-look-that-bad' neutral or a 'he-now-looks-like-a-freak' neutral.

"Um, could I get a mirror?" he croaked.

Persephone placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and handed him a datapad with the other. With a shaking hand, he set the device's camera to reverse view and gazed at his own face.

It didn't look quite as bad as it had felt. There were a lot of scars which were small enough to be nearly invisible. The worst damage was on the right side of his face, which looked almost corrugated with its many deep red wounds. He also had a few good ones creasing his forehead.

His nose was also not quite as straight as it had been. For some reason he found that almost more upsetting than the rest.

"The redness should fade after a while," said Persephone gently.

Mackie gave a graveyard chuckle. "Well, I guess now I'm no more gorgeous than the rest of you uggos."

Nathan patted his hand. "That's the spirit."

After a little while, most of them filed out. Only Nathan was left behind.

"Let me know if you need anything," the analyst said. "Or if you just want to talk, or..." he trailed off.

"It's okay, dude. I'm just gonna head back to my cabin and sleep on a proper bed."

"We couldn't stop." The words almost seemed to burst out of Nathan. "I'm so sorry, we had to get chasing after the 'Ghost' so we couldn't take the time to find a good plastic surgeon. And we couldn't leave you behind on Illium, or Cerberus might have gotten to you..."

Mackie gently patted Nathan's stricken face. "I said it's okay. After this is all over, I'm gonna have enough cash to get my face fixed." He looked away. "And you don't have to hang around here or feel sorry for me."

"I want to stay," said Nathan. "And not because I feel sorry for you."

Mackie gave another cynical chuckle and indicated the ruined side of his face. "Even though I look like a Picasso painting now?"

He felt the analyst's hands clamp gently on either side of his head, and the press of Nathan's lips on his forehead in a soft kiss. Mackie stared up in disbelief at the analyst's friendly brown eyes.

"I am here because I care for you," said Nathan very quietly.

The words seemed to break an emotional dam inside him. Mackie leaned forward into Nathan's shoulder and hugged him fiercely. He began sobbing into Nathan's shirt, and heard himself babbling. It almost felt like somebody else talking.

"I was so scared! I almost died back there. He kept hurting me, and I couldn't do anything to stop him. He was gonna cut my throat! I knew I was gonna die!"

Nathan returned the hug and gently stroked the younger man's hair. "It's okay, you're safe. I'm here..."

----------------------------------------

Persephone smiled. "Got her."

Gabby looked up from her meal. "Who? Our invisible woman?"

The asari nodded. "Nathan suspected that she was traveling commercial. Now that we have information on where she's stopping, I was able to correlate those stops with flight manifests and look for a common name among them." She pointed at the terminal's display. "And I found the alias she's traveling under. Karen Garfield."

Nathan came strolling into the wardroom. Since Mackie had recovered, the two had removed the partition between their cabins. It warmed Gabby's heart to see how Nathan had stepped up to support Mackie since his near-death on Illium.

Persephone looked over at the analyst. "Maybe I should get your seal of approval, though?" she said teasingly.

Nathan shrugged and leaned over the asari's shoulder. After a few moments he nodded. "Good work. I think that's our woman." He stood back up and pondered. "Karen Garfield. I know that name. May I butt in?" he asked Persephone while indicating the terminal.

She nodded and stood to let him in. After a minute of searching, he smiled. "Yes, I was correct. Karen Garfield is an alias I've run into before. Our 'Ghost' is actually one Ms. Kasumi Goto."

Gabby leaned back and reached down to scratch Errol's head. The big varren was flopped on his side next to her chair. "Well, I guess we can stop calling her 'Ghost' now."

"Better than that," said Persephone. "I found that Ms. Goto has booked a ship for the Citadel. We might be able to get ahead of her now."

----------------------------------------

John Shepard was in a foul mood. The Commander and his two partners moved with ease through the bustle of Zakera Ward. The neon-lit hallway was cheerful, in contrast with his current mind-state. His meeting with the Council had been disastrous. About the only thing that had gone right was that he was 'kinda-sorta' a Spectre once more...as long as he kept his operations in the Terminus systems. The Reapers had been dismissed as a spook story, again, and he'd been treated like a borderline lunatic, again.

Shepard's jaw clenched as they rounded a corner and made their way back towards the docks. It was quite amazing how powerful a force denial could be. Even when the evidence had come waltzing up and nearly blown the fuck out of their super-dreadnought, it seemed like the other races were quite content to adopt a 'wait and see' attitude.

"I shoulda let the Destiny Ascension burn," he muttered.

On one side of him strode a turian with bandages over one side of his face. Garrus patted his shoulder. "Hey, look at the bright side John. They didn't arrest us."

Having his old friend here was the only thing that kept Shepard from sliding into utter despair. He smiled and raised an eyebrow at Garrus. "That's a bad thing, actually. It would be entertaining to see them try and contain you."

"I'd like to see that too," said a rasping voice from Shepard's other side. The big man in yellow armor grinned in a way that made his scarred face look downright demonic. His pale synthetic eye gleamed as he continued. "I figger between me an' Garrus, we could get through about twenty C-Sec before we even needed to start shooting."

Shepard chuckled at Zaeed's bravado and checked his omni-tool. "Right. Now let's go see if this Goto character is willing to work with us."

"Is she really necessary?" asked Garrus.

The Commander shrugged. "We have no idea what expertise we'll need in this whole goat-fuck of a mission. If we need to get critical data that's hidden somewhere, our usual methods might not work."

"Is 'usual methods' a euphemism for applying high explosives with abandon?" replied the turian with an amused air.

"Hey, I've been a good boy. I haven't blown up anything in at least a couple of years."

They arrived at the taxi stand which would ferry them back to the docks. Shepard looked sourly over at the advertising kiosk that Goto had said to stand in front of. He looked at his two comrades. "Hang back and keep an eye out, okay?"

They both nodded, and Shepard walked forward. As he approached, the kiosk's hardware read his retinal patterns and called up an ad to match his known preferences. The hologram showed some kind of large-bore rifle which would be overkill for anything up to and including a finback whale.

"Hey, Shepard," purred the ad woman's voice. "In the market for weaponry? Looking to go on the hunt? Why not visit Rodam Expeditions, conveniently located here on Zakera Ward..."

"Pass," said Shepard.

The next ad showed a hooded figure. He couldn't really make out the person's eyes, but they glittered with good humor at him.

"Commander Shepard," she said in a lovely contralto voice, "we have the finest companions waiting for you. Perhaps something smart, petite, and Japanese would be your style?"

The Spectre smiled. He wanted to see how this person handled herself. He clasped his hands behind his back and said "Pass."

The ad shifted. The hooded woman was now on a beach reclining in a chair. "Just enter your password for a fabulous prize package worth millions of credits."

"Pass."

Now she was seated behind a desk, with her hands folded in front of her and a look of sober concern on her face. "Do you have problems with Collectors? Try Kasumi's credit services."

"Pass."

Now it just showed her hooded face, looking out at him in exasperation. "Seriously? I didn't think I'd need more than the three damned ads..."

"Silence is Golden," he replied.

Kasumi's image rolled her eyes. "Finally. I don't remember reading that the great John Shepard was such a smart-ass."

"They tend to leave out details like that in the official biographies," he replied.

She nodded at him. "In any case, it's good to finally meet you. Kasumi Goto, at your service. I'm a fan. I must say, you're looking pretty spry for a dead man."

Shepard smiled wider. "I got better. What's with the passwords and sneaking around?"

Her hologram smiled back. "I'm the best thief in the business, not the most famous. Need to watch my step to keep it that way. Not to mention that I don't entirely trust our mutual employer."

"That's a wise precaution," he said. "So how about you come down off that catwalk above us so we can really talk?"

There was a long pause. "How did you know?"

"It was the most logical location. Good overview of the area, plus a decent escape route if things went bad." Shepard tilted his head. "But you don't have to worry about me."

Her image looked more closely at him. "I have to admit, it does look like you. I'm curious to see how you look in a proper suit."

"Suit?"

"Oh, didn't they tell you that part?"

He clenched his jaw again. Just when he was starting to relax, damn it. "No, somehow Cerberus left out that detail."

"I have a certain item of great personal significance which needs to be retrieved. I've done some digging, and there's a formal dinner party which should be our most opportune moment."

Shepard crossed his arms. "And if I say no?"

"Well then I guess this little defenseless woman will have to take on the big bad people all by herself."

He resisted the temptation to snort at the notion that she was at all 'defenseless'. Besides, he did need to see how she handled herself in a more combat-oriented environment before really dropping her in the shit. "I guess we can't have that, can we? All right. You know where the Normandy is docked?"

"I do. I have a few things I want to bring with me."

"Of course."

"Good. I'll meet you on board."

Shepard turned away and rejoined his two companions.

"All set?" asked Garrus.

Shepard nodded. "Did you get a fix on her?"

The turian shrugged. "Maybe? I thought I saw some kind of a shimmer on that catwalk, but it was really vague."

The Commander blew out a breath. "Well, she should be useful for infiltration if nothing else." He then looked around with a frown on his face. Something was off. He couldn't say what, exactly, but his horse-sense was telling him that they were being watched. "Damn. I think we need to trail our new recruit to make sure she doesn't come to harm."