The Gearmarker Origins

Empire of Dirt
''His head pounded into the dirt, causing him to spit out blood. He stood up and punched the trainer in the face, smashing his nose to pieces. Another came at him from behind, and he whirled around, punched him in the gut and then in the face. Another charged at him from the side. He grabbed one of his downed trainers and threw him at his advancing one. Then he whirled, knowing another was behind him. He jumped into the air and snap-kicked the last one in the side of the head, making him drop.''

Jason Cross sat upright, his sleep disturbed by the dreams of the brutal, brutal training. In fact, the training bordered on inhumane. He shook his head and got out of bed. He dressed in his regular casual attire, fit his leather jacket on and went out for a run. He lapped the Presidium four times before stopping for breakfast at small bakery. He bought a muffin and sat at one of the tables, all the while looking around the small area. He quickly calculated that the man behind the counter weighed three hundred pounds and could handle himself, the woman with the coffee four feet away was a lawyer, and the best place to look for a firearm was on the Turian that was just walking in.

That last calculation proved to be right, as the Turian pulled out a pistol and started walking towards the counter. Jason held the muffin in his mouth and walked over to intercept. The Turian saw him coming and began to take aim at him, but was too slow. Jason had wrenched the gun away from him, broken it in half, and had punched him in the face, did a spin kick to his chest and had him pinned on the ground. By the time C-Sec had arrived, Jason had left, resuming his breakfast. He finished the muffin and went down to check on the Memorial Hospital. His patrol took him around the entire Citadel every day.

Absolutely nothing on interest was at the Hospital, so he moved on. All the while, his mind calculated every possible threat while he thought about his origins at the same time. All he could remember was training to do this. Keep the peace where no one would know he was doing so. He looked around at the people enjoying their lives. They didn't know the man walking through them was potentially the most dangerous human being ever. He thought about the system itself.

Truthfully, almost none of the accomplishments of anyone in the republic really meant anything. It was just a big empire of dirt in the long run. A man ran by, clutching a woman's handbag. Jason clothes-lined him and kept walking. He finished his tour and went back to his apartment. He checked his computer for mission requests. He never received any, it was just routine. To his shock, their was one. He opened it.

Gearmarker-2

''We need your expertise to investigate a series of brutal murders on Omega. Succeed, and you may be transferred there.''

Jason fist pumped and booked a ship to Omega the next day. He had requested a transfer to Omega many times, and had always been turned down. Now he had a shot at it. He wouldn't blow it. He couldn't. That's what he was made to do.

Rusty Cage
Space.

It was vast. It was dark here and bright there. But it was the quiet that got to Jedi Knight Serra Dayne as she piloted her scout ship through space. A lot of the time, she would have music playing, but every now and then, it was good to simply embrace the silence that space involved. Eventually, she shook her head and turned the music on again. She liked Earth music much more then the crap Asari or the things in Jabba's palace on Tatooine danced to. She also preferred the centuries old music. There was an ancient group called Metallica that she particularly enjoyed.

Suddenly, a blinking on her dashboard lit up and she clicked on it. She needed to refuel soon. She checked the nearest places to dock. ''Ah, shit. Omega. Of course it's Omega.'' She thought. ''What a pisshole. I hate that place.'' She thought. The place was crawling with crime and drunks. The last time she went, at least forty different men had tried to feel her up. She shook her head at the thought and set a course. She landed and left her ship, locked, by the love of god, and went to speak to the fuel dealer. Apparently it would take around three days to fully fill the ship. She sighed. She went and found a place to eat.

There was a Batarian screaming stuff like "Repent, the end is nigh!" and "Humans are a blight on galactic purity! You sir, you are a blight!" In fact, he had been there when she had last visited four years ago. She shook her head and began eating the burger she had ordered.