"Most people think I deal in finances, but my real currency is knowledge. I trade information, and it has made me very wealthy. But the Shadow Broker is the true master. Every day he buys and sells secrets that could topple governments, always giving them to the highest bidder. Yet somehow he never seems to upset the natural balance of power. All those secrets being passed around seem to even out. Nobody ends ups with an advantage in the end." Barla Von says in admiration.
"Any idea about who he is?" Sapphire asks after calming down.
"I don't know. Nobody does. The Shadow Broker could be any race, any gender. I have a theory that it's actually an entire group working under one identity. How else could they juggle so many contacts at the same time? How else could they see all that information from getting crossed? But they've got the perfect setup. Every government is forced to play their game so they don't get behind. But no matter how long you play, no matter how many secrets you buy, you can never win." Barla Von laments at not having something similar himself.
"I thought you'd know more about the man you work for?" Sampson questions.
"From time to time, I come across information I sell to the Shadow Broker. That's my only involvement. I like it that way, it allows me to still be an independent free agent. Plus, the more you know, the more dangerous the game becomes. I don't like danger, Commander. I'll leave that to people like you and Conrad." Barla Von readily admits.
"What's it like living here on the Citadel?" Sampson asks with curiosity.
"The station is, without a doubt, the greatest wonder in the galaxy. It is a technological marvel. But its true splendor goes much deeper than the hull and engines. From the Presidium to the Wards, the entire station is a testament to the success of the Council. All the species of Citadel space together in a single strong community." Barla Von explains with great enthusiasm.
"Eh, what makes the Presidium so special?" Sapphire asks slightly perplexed.
"It's the political center of the Citadel space. Eighty percent of all intelligent species in the known galaxy acknowledge the Council's authority on interstellar matters. But only the most powerful and influential species have embassies here on the Presidium. This level of the station is reserved for the elite, Lieutenant Colonel. People like us." Barla Von says, though his gaze seems to be lingering on Conrad for a second too long.
"And how are the Wards important?" Sapphire asks with her curiosity piqued as well.
"The cultural heart of the galaxy. They pulse with the lifeblood of millions of citizens from dozens of different species. You never know what you'll find down in the Wards, Lieutenant Colonel. Fortunately, most of them are pleasant." Barla Von says.
*Beep, Beep.*
Sampson's communicator goes off notifying him that Ashley and Kaiden are in position outside Chora's Den.
"It looks like we need to get going. Have a good day, Barla Von." Sampson says cordially as the team leaves and heads towards the bar, using an elevator and rushing through a back alley to make it to the bar in record time, where Ashley and Kaiden are waiting with weapons ready.
"Glad you could make it, Commander." Ashley says with a smirk.
"It looks like everything is shut down." Garrus says noticing the silence.
"Fist knows we're coming." Wrex adds with a joyful grin.
"Alright, Garrus, Wrex, and Conrad, when we breach the bar, follow Sapphire left, Alenko and Williams, you will follow me as we push right, understood?" Sampson orders decisively to which everyone agrees.
After they get into position, Sampson holds his hand up and counts down from 5 before rushing through the door, firing to the right with Ashley and Kaiden backing up his rear, while Sapphire, Conrad, Garrus, and Wrex, move through the left.
The thugs are swiftly cut down by the alliance soldier's rounds, with the Krogan Bouncers lasting slightly longer due to their endurance, regeneration ability, and pure durability.
Once the main entertainment area is cleared, the team moves to the back area.
Sampson hits the button on the door, opening it to reveal a couple of scared warehouse workers shakily holding a couple of low-grade pistols.
"S-stop right there! Don't come any closer!" The worker on the left shouts.
"Warehouse workers. All the real guards must be dead." Garrus says.
"Stay back or we'll shoot!" The worker on the left shouts, trying to hold his gun like a gangster.
"You know, this would be a good time to find somewhere else to work." Sampson says, putting away his pistol and crossing his arms.
"Yeah, yeah, right. That's probably a good idea," The left worker says, sighing in relief as he puts his pistol down.
"I never liked Fist anyway," The right worker says, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"Oi, if ya lookin' for work, contact this guy, he'll set ya up nice." Conrad says, forwarding some contact information to their communicators.
"Thanks." The left worker says.
"It would've been quicker to just kill them." Wrex says with dissatisfaction.
"Shooting isn't always the answer Wrex." Garrus says.
"Yeah, mate, a few choice words can be more than enough to end a threat." Conrad adds, agreeing with Garrus.
"True, but it is the fun answer." Wex retorts, making Conrad roll his eyes.
With the workers out of harm's way, the team advances toward Fist's office.
Once at the door, Sampson motions for everyone to prepare to breach.
After counting down, he goes through the door, throwing a shield overload attack at Fist, stunning him before the turrets he had prepared could fully activate, while Conrad sends a round that shreds through Fist's leg knocking him to the ground, screaming his head off in pain and terror.
"Wait! Don't kill me! I surrender!" Fist begs through the pain of applying medi-gel to his leg wound.
"Tell me where the Quarian is!" Sampson orders, not lowering his rifle in case Fist tries something.