#but there's no details no casualties just recordings of police doing absolute fuck all and posing along with the scene

[bibiana112]

Tfw when you're a lone college student who woke up in the middle of the afternoon and is just drowsily eating frozen leftovers from a week ago and suddenly get a text from a friend from Spain asking if you're okay because they just saw "the news" and you blink unfazed to switch the channel away from the silly youtube stuff you put on for lunch and just go "welp I am sure I should be more worried but honestly I kind of expected it"

[ryanleonitus]

Long Story Time

TW: Race Relations & Police

So today I had to get an accident report from LexisNexis for an incident that happened in 2019. In a nutshell, I was hit from the side by a distracted driver. At the time I was actively working as a trainer for Property & Casualty insurance. I'm saying that to say, I know my shit.

Before exiting my vehicle, I go ahead and gather my insurance information so we can do the exchange. As soon as I stepped my little ass foot out of the car, I got the sense this would be more than an insurance exchange, mainly because the other driver kept cutting her eyes back at me with her door slightly ajar. I decided to just lean against my vehicle and let her approach me instead. She finally steps out of her SUV, stands at her door and says, "Do you have your insurance info?"

Me: Yes, if you don't want to get the police involved we can just make an exchange.

Her: Well, you don't need my info. You didn't stop.

Me: [pointing to the road] I had to stop because for one, I was making a left turn and there was an oncoming vehicle. For two, I also don't have a stop sign..

By the time I get this out, another SUV rolls up with the highly identifiable black, white and single blue stripe flag. It's her husband. Right behind him, a friend of hers who seems to drive up from nowhere. The husband is talking to her, walking out to the street, looking at her SUV, looking at my car, etc... I'm not saying a singular word at this point. I just wait on the police to arrive.

The police come a few moments later and take the reports. One of them even has light conversation with me about why they were even called. I was thinking he was just trying to make me, the Black guy, feel more comfortable as I was obviously not interacting with the driver or her people.

My adjuster calls me the same day and gets the details. She says something about how the other party may try to claim comparative negligence. (This is when both/all parties are at-fault to an extent.) I rebutted this and she clearly realized what type of person she had on the line. A few days later I get the text that the other driver was found to be 100% at-fault and details for where I can file against her insurance. I decided not to file a claim on her insurance for the accident as I knew I was about to get another vehicle and the dent would be a waste of my time.

Fast forward to today when I was asked for the police report related to the incident. I realized I'd never gotten an official report. I first go to the state of Louisiana's website to retrieve it and it is not found at all. So I go to where I know it absolutely has to be which is LexisNexis. It came right up. That was very odd to me. I finally get access to the report and read the *very* short record where the driver states she did not see me, pulled out and hit my car before she was able to stop.

That ol' raggedy heffa!

That changed the entire tide for me. First, she tried to blame me for not stopping. Then the ol' bitty called her retired law enforcement husband as a means to intimidate me, I suppose. He clearly sees from his observation of the incident that she hit me legit. The police clearly see it with their eyes and KNOW it because of her statement, which is why they were shooting the shit with me and not saying much to her or her husband. My car was a 2002 Ford Taurus and we live in conjoining cities where one is known for drivers not having insurance. Louisiana is a no pay, no play state. Meaning if you are involved in an accident and you don't have insurance, your claim is damned there void even if you're not the one at-fault. So they were banking on me not having insurance to save face.

All of that for this damned woman to say she hit *me* on a statement she provided at the fucking scene!

[meggannn]

@keelificent asked me about why i think earthborn!shepard would be wary of garrus in mass effect 1 and phew here i go *cracks knuckles*

obviously this is subject to everyone’s shepard, particularly paragon or para-leaning earthborn shepards, cause maybe interpretations of renegade shepards don’t give a fuck about this kind of thing. my eb shepard is kind of hardened but still (or tries to be) para-leaning, mostly come out of a self-driven desire to atone to make up for her frankly embarrassing past as a delinquent (in her own eyes).

so anyway. any gangster would obviously be wary of cops, even the ones who run mildly inoffensive crimes, like the lookouts, or participants in petty theft or vandilism. it sounds like space capitalism and classism are still huge in the me ‘verse (and i’m assuming racism is still kicking as well, even if most of the population is poc or mixed), so i don’t imagine humans will have solved their corruption problems by the 2170s. you don’t even have to be a felon or live on the streets to be wary of cops, but for a teenager in a gang, yeah, i imagine there’d be an instinctual urge to bolt at the first sign of a badge; bolt, or play the distractor/actor, the one stalling for time and pacifying while the others scram.

maybe earthborn shepard’s been arrested before, maybe not. but either way i don’t think they would’ve had to have been to develop an instinctual reaction to be wary of cops. and keeping in mind that this is still earth, it’s not just out of fear of being thrown in prison or a foster home -- but i imagine shepard is also well aware of the cops to avoid from rumors of police brutality and corruption. i don’t think that kind of wariness ever leaves someone after they grow up with it during formative years, considering their life relied on a) not getting caught, and if you can’t avoid that, then b) not getting caught by one of the bad ones.

fast-forward 11 years....... commander shepard walks to the top of the steps in the citadel tower. shepard is now a disciplined well-respected marine with a distinguished record. they fight to make the galaxy a safer place. they worked hard to be where they’re at. she meets a cop at the top of the steps. old habits can still die hard.

gonna just commit to using ‘she’ here to distinguish this is now my shepard’s reactions she meets a cop who introduces himself as the detective behind investigating the spectre-turned-possible-terrorist saren arterius. vakarian is polite and respectful, but frustrated. he’s got no evidence, no records, just working on instinct. he ‘feels it in his gut.’ shepards can have a lot of reactions to meeting garrus vakarian for the first time, but aside from the instinctual urge to be cautious of trusting a cop, mine mostly logs his presence away as a mental note to possibly contact later.

the next time she meets garrus vakarian, he uses her entrance as a distraction to take the first shot on a gang of thugs holding a witness hostage. it’s clear vakarian has now gone rogue to work the investigation on his own terms. you properly dispense the bad guys and he thanks you at the end. “perfect timing! gave me a clear shot at that bastard.” the fact that he made a pinpoint shot with a handgun and little time to prep is either exemplary skill, or complete luck. either way, it was still a dangerous move -- the bullet struck less than a hand’s breath from the witness’s skull.

so log him in her brain now as ‘skilled but reckless.’ not really the kind of qualities you want in a policeman. also: he has no problem playing judge, jury, and executioner. i mean yeah, she would’ve killed the thug too, cause he had a gun to the hostage’s skull and engaged them in a firefight, but again, vakarian made the first shot. (we, the audience, know that this random npc was dead anyway and garrus had the right of it, but shepard doesn’t know that when she walks into the room. maybe she could’ve interrogated them to find out more about their orders from the broker.)

so shepard can chew him out for risking the hostage’s life, and he says “there wasn’t time to think, i just reacted.” which imo is probably just sloppy writing, because you’d think think a turian policeman would have better discipline than that, though again, ymmv on how wide the gap is between turian and human socialization and discipline. (personally i feel it’s more in character to have planned out his moves during that waiting time before shepard enters and made a calculated shot, but still accepted the risk that he might hit dr michel nonetheless.)

michel talks about tali’zorah and fist, with officer vakarian filling in context and other details he found from his investigation. this guy is so antsy to lock saren down he’s practically vibrating. which is not a bad thing, because you want a policeman to be driven by a drive to put dangerous people behind bars. but again! reckless.

“this is your show, shepard. but i want to bring saren down as much as you do. i’m coming with you.” okay, vakarian, but i just MET you. what are your qualifications, or am i only bringing you on as an attaché for saren info? are you a good shot, or just lucky? can i count on you to reign in the excitement if civilian lives are at stake?

you can’t ask him any of this because bioware wasn’t thinking of these questions in 2007; you’re limited to “okay,” “hit the road josé,” and “why do you care so much, bro?” his response to the last two makes it pretty obvious that he’s driven by a sheer desire to see justice served: saren is a criminal. his actions have killed people, and his current freedom puts more lives at stake. and he’s getting away with it. also, “he’s a disgrace to my people.” if shepard has read her codex or talked to literally any turian for two seconds by now, she knows turians are a very proud, disciplined, and (theoretically) honorable people. that saren is a criminal and that he is using the system designed to help people to disguise his crimes, is eating vakarian alive.

at this point you could ask my earthborn shep “why take him at all if you don’t trust him to play by the rules?” the answer to that is

she believes in this moment that he is, at his core, genuinely driven by a desire to do good with his job, with casualties as an afterthought to the main goal. she still dislikes that attitude immensely, coming an earthborn background, it means she once was one of those ‘little people’ that police often disregarded in pursuing their targets, but she believes at least now that maybe she can get him to remember they’re not just chasing saren because he’s a Designated Bad Guy, they’re chasing him because his actions wiped out a colony and his plans clearly involve more bloodshed. in other words, it’s about protecting people, not winning against the bad guy, and she thinks he can be nudged back into that direction with appeals to his honor code, which he does seem to have.

if she says “no you can’t come,” she doesn’t put it past him not to leave c-sec and pursue saren on his own. maybe their paths would cross, maybe not, but she already has evidence he’s willing to go against orders, come armed to a clinic, and shoot up criminals without clearance from his boss. what if he decided to go chasing down saren on his own?

for however dangerous his move was, he does have good instincts. that ‘gut feeling’ was absolutely correct: he was right to come to the clinic, and was in the right place at the right time to make the shot. could’ve been luck, but just as likely could’ve been skill.

he’s a little aggressive and presumptuous, but still respectful of her and her command. turians are trained to defer to superiors, aren’t they? well, he did just defy orders to keep investigating, but that was because he knew saren was guilty and it was a bad call. honestly, she probably would’ve done the same thing. shit, okay, she just talked herself into saying yes.

and that was meeting two. i can’t help but think her opinion of garrus vakarian..... doesn’t really get much better until maybe the end of mass effect 1. i’m not gonna summarize every conversation they have in the cargo bay, but you probably remember the gist, and we know what me1!garrus is like: he’s eager to prove himself, constantly puts his foot in his mouth, is over the moon to work outside the law, and is kind of obviously projecting his spectre fantasy onto shepard. talks constantly about how he doesn’t see why the law should get in the way of doing what’s right.

okay, shepard can agree with that. she grew up in a literal sewer; she knows morality can (and if you’re para-leaning, should) be put above the law.

“and also!” garrus vakarian says, “also, these damn rules get in the way of doing my job. if my orders are to take in a suspect, why should it matter how i do it, so long as i do?”

“uh,” says shepard, thinking of the millions of corrupt cops back on earth who banged her head as they shoved her into the backseat of their car, pepper sprayed her friends -- not because she believes this of him, but because her mind jumps to the worst out of familiarity with seeing corruption from the bottom, and a fear that this is who he might become if she doesn’t handle this very, very carefully. vakarian seems to look up to her, for some unfathomable reason. he values what she has to say. she has to treat him respectfully, but she will make herself clear that collateral damage is not tolerated in her missions.

also, uh, it’d be stupid for her to ignore that compared to everyone else on board, this boy is like the most privileged one in galactic society. a turian cop (with a detective father well distinguished for his service) is already in a position of power over half of the ground team, but a turian who’s from the capital city of the turian home planet who lives at a station at the heart of the citadel with a badge and a lifetime of xenophobic microaggressions to learn to get over... like, no wonder tali and wrex weren’t fond of those elevator conversations, lmao.

i want to be clear, i don’t think my earthborn!shepard dislikes garrus in me1. she sees a lot of herself in him. they’re both disciplined but easily frustrated, driven by strong sense of duty and justice, don’t mind breaking a few eggs to get there -- imo a para-leaning earthborn!shepard has just seen more examples of what happens when higher ups cut corners. people like orphans suffer. people like who she was suffer. some of them don’t survive. so she tries to sort of.... nudge him into what she thinks is the right path without stomping all over his personality. i think she does value individuality and his opinions, more than blind obedience, so it is a dialogue, but she wants him to hear her. and when he tells her he’s going to reapply to spectre training and go back to c-sec in the meantime, and that he’s learned a lot, she’s genuinely glad to hear it.

anyway that’s my longass response to your prompt. i fully acknowledge this interpretation of garrus, even early-stage underdeveloped garrus (compared to me2/3), is probably an unpopular opinion, and possibly an uncomfortable one considering real-life parallels, so i apologize if i sound disrespectful. part of my attempts at broadening lore within this universe include addressing social differences that bioware mentions but drops the ball on (e.g., turians and asari having privilege over other races), so this is just like the result of some of those thoughts to bring a little sense of realism to this universe. and of course, ymmv with different types of earthborn shepards and how they would react to having a cop on board -- i’m not arguing this is is reflective of all, just how i see mine.

anyway it’s ok because they get much closer on the sr2. and after the war, things are good, until garrus offhandedly mentions his dad used to be deputy chief of one of the largest wards on the citadel, well known for gang and felon activity, and shepard closes her eyes, thinks of all of those ASBOs she racked up, knows with every fibre of her being that somewhere out in the galaxy castis vakarian has found out about their relationship and is scouring the extranet for her public history both after her enlistment and before, and while garrus continues talking unaware, she part of her dreads the day she does finally meet vakarian sr in person. buuuut that’s a story for another time.

[uldren-sov]

Pedigree

bonus points if you guys know the Sith before the end. Hint: he’s one of many.

The lovely and creative @parttimedragon made the HOUND inspiration for this. Their original post can be found here, as well as much more great material for this and their Agent which started it all!

A bit of a writeup to also explain the feel of just what kind of people these squads seem to be made up of.

WARNING: Violence

It wasn’t an alternative so much as it was a sentencing.

A month ago, Evacios Vex sat at the opposite end of a metal table from an abomination of a Sith. Human. Male. Pale skin. Any other defining features were covered up and replaced with cybernetic implants. Between them was a datapad with his full military history on it which detailed a career of high-risk, high-reward, high-casualty missions - all of which he managed to walk away from. The military needed soldiers that didn’t care about their enemy, that could be discreet, and he was one of them.  It’s why he was promoted from Spec Ops to Black Ops so quickly,

Too quickly, if him being cuffed to the table was any indicator.

The Sith, who didn’t give a name but just spoke in a digitized monotone, detailed the nature of their meeting: his record and more importantly, the issues with it.

“Your last standardized evaluation,” started the cybertized Sith, “shown no new stressors. An unprecedented result due to a dangerous work environment-” which was what Evacios expected “-but you have been under our watch for months,” which Evacios did not and which caught his attention up from studying his fingernails “- and we have concluded our analysis to add the subject has been documented with a series of psychological and sociological tendencies: superficial charm, egocentricity, pathological lying and deception, lack of affect and emotional depth including empathy, sincerity, and guilt, antisocial behavior not at the direct cause of spice or alcohol use. These factors combined with early behavior problems, we suggest the immediate discharge of Specialist Vex from-”

“Wait-!” he had finally sat up in his seat, the cuffs clanging with the effort of him trying to dislodge them, “that’s not following protocol, you can’t discharge me if-!” He talked over the Sith’s next statement because, well, who cared what the Sith had to say when it came to his life? To his career?

“-within Imperial prison, or you may serve us,” Evacios heard and quieted immediately. There was no change of expression, no tell for Evacios to get a read on, just cold, hollow gray-black cybernetics. “Serve us. Prove you are worthy by accepting our mission and serve our Master. He will grant you clemency. He will wipe this from your records. You will continue to fight for the Empire. But your servitude will be absolute, until his sole choosing to release you. If he chooses to release you from your service.”

All bets are off then. They knew about him. He sank back into his seat, his jaw squaring as he tried, if only once, to subtly free his hand from the cuff. It didn’t work.

“Serve or I get thrown in some prison for years and dishonorably discharged?” he summarized.

“Yes.”

Given his military lineage and the chance of clearing out that analysis the choice was obvious and made for him.

“What’s this mission?”

Turns out it was to break out of the very prison they were going to throw him in the first place.

A month he has been around the most dangerous the Empire had to offer in some backwaters neighborhood on the dark side of Nar Shadda. But today? Today he was leaving.

For all their talk of antisocial behavior he thinks he’s actually fairly personable. It was his winning personality and stunning good looks that won him the secret alliances that got him a small blade after all. Well. It wasn’t a blade at first.

At first it was just some small industrial plastic pipe from a heap of garbage that they leave in the more “too intelligent to kill off” sector of the prison. They get all the good stuff. He had just hollowed out a small section of the sole of his shoe - small enough to be missed- wedged it between the insole and and sharpened it against the rough ground whenever he was allowed in the common yard by walking and shuffling on the hard ground. He dedicated a whole three nails to his construction of his shoe, he was rather proud of his ingenuity, really. In his section, the “very scary dangerous people” section - he’d like to call it, everything was very smooth, very curved, very not-makeshift weapon-friendly.

So he made a blade - a small spear, if you will - out of a smuggled pipe.

He hoped his record also said “creative” somewhere on it. Or if not, now it certainly should after this.

The forcefield dropped from his cell and he stood, his foot - which he had injured by stepping wrong atop his little art project - had healed, the weariness in his muscles from working out in the yard every day for about a month was gone, he was well rested, if he could just get some decent food he’d be feeling pretty spectacular.

He settled for good. Today, after all, was going to be a good day.

What was also good was how, because the cells were so safe, they also weren’t monitored within the cells themselves. He had tested it. The halls, though, were. Speaking of halls, his neighbor just passed his cell. Big guy, fair skin, bald head, older, probably killed a lot of civilians or something in his prime. Evacios was sure he told why the man was locked up, he just didn’t care to remember.

“Hey, big guy!” he trotted out to meet him, leaning against the edge of his cell. He made a casual look up and down the hall, the two guards at the exit to their wing stood posted, their blaster rifles at rest, the smoke canisters full of various types of gasses still hung at their waist. Their wing-mates filed past the two of them as … damn, he could never remember his name, hung out next to him.

“Pretty boy,” the man groused, their normal exchange. Evacios chuckled in good nature and shook his head, clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. His other hand, of course, was hiding his weapon.

“Any news yet? They said they’re letting you out, right?” Evacios questioned, acting attentive. As … the guy, the big guy, nodded slowly. He glanced away to count the number of people filing by. The woman from the end cell finally made their way past as Big Man started explaining that the appeal had a good chance of going through, and he was going to maybe be a part of the police back home on Dromund Kaas. He nodded and hummed when he was supposed to, he was listening to the bodies that disrupted the forcefield that blocked the entrance. Two more … one more … Finally the woman left and with a renewed energy he tucked his lower lip into his mouth, whistled shrilly, and looked down the hall. It got the guards attention. Good. They brought their rifles to the ready. Better. He tucked himself a little bit into his cell to present less of a target, turned back to Big Person, grabbed him by the face, and jammed the refashioned pipe into his neck. He sliced in an arc and tore through. Blood splashed against his light gray uniform as he pulled the man in and braced himself behind the body just as shots started to ring out, peppering his meat shield. He tucked back into his cell and let the body fall. He immediately put his hands atop his head and started breathing deeply.

He staged another fight before - it’s why he was transferred here - the guards always started with that gas, which he heard the cans open with a his and then clatter and roll towards his cell on the floor. With all he had been training he was able to hold his breath for about three to four minutes. If he was fighting he’d have to shave down that expected time to at most two minutes of air. He saw the smoke start to filter in. He took one deep breath and then crouched by the cell entrance just as the smoke was coming in to obscure him, he even propped Big Human up beside him as a distraction. All he needed was a second, a second glance, a second thought.

The first guard turned the corner, he looked to the dead body instead of him. He sprung up and jabbed the pipe this time straight up into the soft neck gap of the armor and hopefully up through the underside of the guard’s jaw. Seemed to have worked, any scream was just a gurgle from the guard. Dumb architects made the cell forcefield entry single-file. He pulled the first guard’s body down, snatching the helmet off now that the difference of body weight simply tore the chinstrap off as the body fell with dead weight.

Literally. Ha.

In the enclosed space blaster fire caught his side but he stepped over the bodies, drew the second guard in just as the forcefield closed behind him. Evacios had to wrestle the rifle away but seeing as the dumb administrators gave guards rifles in closed quarters it was fairly easy to manage as he held the sharpened spike just at the same place he just stabbed the man’s colleague. He narrowed his eyes as smoke continued to fill around them - things could get in but not out of the forcefield. He pressed it harder on the soft underside of his jaw as a warning as Evacios leaned down, snatched up the discarded helmet and pulled it on. The helmet itself was no longer air tight but there was a mouthpiece for just these occasions.

He took a deep breath of filtered air as he sealed the mouthpiece around him. He glanced down to the comm device on their chest and was glad for all those smart slicers in prison here that kept this place relatively low-tech to keep them at bay.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he started pleasantly, “I’m now your partner. We are going to see that the prisoner here accidentally started a fire, you deactivate my cell and we leave when emergency protocol takes effect.” He pressed the tip of the pipe hard enough now to pierce through the synthetic fabric of the neck cover. “You make one peep out of line, you do anything that makes me think you’re suspicious and I fucking kill you and every friend of yours I meet on my way out of here,” his tone wasn’t pleasant anymore. “You, and you alone, hold the fate of your colleagues in your hands. Just think-” he paused for effect “I could kill you both with a bloody pipe - I did kill with a bloody pipe. Imagine what I can do with this rifle … Nod if you understand,” he warned, this time drawing blood as the guard nodded.

Evacios quickly got the rest of the dead guard’s armor on. He still held the pipe but he had the other guard wait in the corner, away from the rifles, as he dressed. Can never be too careful. He popped the heat sink - full of tibaana gas - out of one of the rifles and put it on the small pile of bodies he made. He passed that rifle to the guard. Standing back he shot the heat sink and it made a small explosion. It singed the front of his armor as the clothes and bodies faithfully ignited. His fellow guard lowered the shield to his cell, they both ran off to initiate emergency protocols, they both stuck close together as his new friend gave quick orders to the cleanup and emergency crew, and they both walked out of there - tomorrow they’d be questioned extensively as to what happened, no doubt, as new guards took their place for the rest of their shift.

Only that tomorrow wasn’t happening. For either of them.

When they cleared the compound before his “partner” could even turn to question him, Evacios shouldered the rifle and let loose a couple of rounds into that small hole he made which, admittedly, he was fixated on and worried it would be the inconsistency that ruined this escape.

Nope. Instead? He was going to escape and even avoid that Sith’s service at this rate.

He nearly got to the taxi speeder before he was stopped with an icy hand on his shoulder. He looked over to it’s owner.

An abomination of a Sith. Human. Male. Pale skin. Cybernetic exoskeleton on his hand. A sinking feeling seeped into him: dread, it felt like.

He was caught.

“You are worthy,” came the same digitized, deep, monotone.

He kneeled next to a man on his left, a woman on his right, one of six bent figures, adorned in black almost robe-like armor. He stared at the ground, the six of them still as the grave - if they knew what was good for them.

From underneath his hood, he could see the deep purple robes of his new “Master.” No one told him they kept to the theme of their unit HOUND: Hierarchy Ordained, Unilateral Neutralization Division so Emperor-damned closely.

He was surprised none of them wore ears.

“My Hounds,” came the curling, sinister, mechanized voice of Darth Jadus, “I sense a willfulness unbecoming of this squad. Unacceptable, before I send you to hunt. Lose yourself of this and remember that your lives are forfeit to me and I may do with them as I wish. If you do not strip of those emotions, I will do it for you.”

He clenched his eyes, emptied his thoughts, and felt the desolation of the Darth seep into his skin.

No, this wasn’t even a sentencing after all.

It was an execution.