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The commissioner for this picture commissioned a story by draconicon to accompany it:
C-Sec was filled with bastards, but at least some of them were helpful bastards. After sitting in their holding cells for a month, Ulroc had lost what reputation he had on the Citadel, and he wasn’t getting it back without breaking a few laws. Either C-Sec realized this, or they were just tired of him sitting in their cells, because they set up an interview as a bouncer in one of the clubs on Zakera Ward. Much as the Krogan would prefer to stick with his old job, he knew a good thing when he saw it. Besides, now he could crack heads and not get in trouble for it.

Turians and asari wandered around the ward, some going to different shops while others mingled with the growing human population. Whenever he passed by they turned to him, their eyes widening before looking away. It was the same strange look that other Krogans had given him lately. Something had changed, and he didn’t like it.

Shaking his head, he bared his teeth at anybody that looked too long as he made his way through the glittering ward lights. The annoying ads and ‘bots kept scanning him and offering him different products as he passed by. None of them interested him. No breedings, no guns, no ships; they didn’t know what he wanted.

Ulroc grumbled as he made his way down a set of stairs, reflective metal offering a subtle reflection that he almost ignored. However, he felt something was off, and he stopped to look at himself.

The reflection seemed right. Armored plates were polished, his chest piece was strapped on evenly, and his weapon hung from his hip in easy reach. His secondary ‘weapon’ stood up and out, a challenge to anyone that thought that he wasn’t a true Krogan. As he turned, his quad was just visible between the armored plates along his legs. His armor extended down his legs, shimmering where it ended above his feet.

So why were people staring like he was some sort of freak? Even humans had seen Krogans before. What the hell was wrong with them?

Maybe it was his secondary ‘weapon’. He looked down at it again, the shaft sticking out from his crotch plates. Until recently he’d kept that concealed, but after spending all that time in C-Sec, he needed to show his strength as a Krogan. Nobody else dared to meet an enemy head-on like this, and nobody had a ‘spear’ like his, either. If there had been one thing that C-Sec had recognized about him, it was his size and strength down there.

“Well, they better get used to it. I’m Krogan, and I’m armed.”

Giving his reflection an aggressive snort, he turned and stomped down the stairs, pushing away anyone stupid enough to get in front of him. Several human males stared at him as he walked by, but this time he just shrugged it off. If they were going to stare, let them. He had a job to get to, and he wasn’t going to be late.

Several flights of stairs later – along with more than a few stares as well – he reached his destination. The Quad Buster, the sign read. He groaned, running a hand along his face plates.

“Just like humans.”

He rammed through a cluster of them to get inside. Round tables spread out over most of the interior, and blue and violet light blasted the place in strobe bursts. His eyes stung as they adjusted. It didn’t take long to pick out the bartender on the far side of the room, just past the dance floor. As the people nearest him gave him appraising looks, Ulroc shoved his way through the crowd and across the room. The few dancers in his way had the sense to move before he reached them, and the bartender looked up at him as his heavy footsteps got louder than the dance music.

As Ulroc got closer, the human bartender grinned and reached under the bar. The Krogan froze as he felt a strangely familiar buzz rush through him. It lasted for barely a second, but it felt like a vibrating pellet had lodged between his head plates.

Then it was gone, and he stepped forward. His ‘weapon’ nudged the edge of the bar as he leaned against it, and he looked down at the human.

“I’m Ulroc. C-Sec said you had a job for me.”

“Right, right, Ulroc. I remember that name. They said that you were doing hard time for beating someone up.”

“Hmmph. They started it, I just ended it.”

“Perfect for a bouncer then. Hey, I just need to get a datapad so I can write this stuff down. Gimme a minute?”

“Whatever, human.”

Nodding, the blond human waved at one of the other workers. They nodded at each other, but Ulroc wasn’t paying much attention. That buzzing feeling returned, and he swore that there was some sort of voice under that damned buzz. Was this some sort of new sound thing for dancers? It was damn annoying, and he pressed his hands to the sides of his head to try and force it out.

Click.

“Sorry about that. Just had to get the pad and a drink. My name’s Ken, by the way.”

The bartender – Ken – leaned on the counter. A glowing holopad displayed various upside down letters, and the human held a stylus. Ulroc grunted.

“What do you need notes for? I’m Krogan, and I’m a fighter. That’s all you need to know.”

“It’s just how I always do things, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Ken scribbled a few things down while the Krogan grumbled. This whole thing was a waste of time. He could be out in the dark wards, looking for bounties to get money into his accounts again, yet here he was looking for a job as a bouncer, and for a human of all things. What had happened to him?

He almost walked out, but something held him back. The stylus pulled back from the pad, and Ulroc took a deep breath, snorting as he exhaled. The human was a weakling, but he offered credits and a place to work. A real Krogan knew how to show their strength in front of a battlemaster, and even though the human wasn’t a soldier by a long shot, he was the closest thing that Ulroc had.

“So, I see that you come well-armed. You any good with those weapons, big guy?”

“Heh, better than good.”

Ulroc grabbed his pistol, pulling it out from its holster in one smooth movement. The barrel lengthened at his touch, the weapon growing larger for his bigger fingers. Lazily sweeping the room, he smirked at the human.

“Got a target you want me to prove it with?”

“Not right yet, but I might later.”

As the human scribbled something, the strange buzz vibrated faster. He looked for the source as he holstered his pistol, his teeth on edge as the sound burrowed between his plates. Didn’t anyone else hear it? It was driving him crazy, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“So, what’s your history, Ulroc? Got any good stories to share?”

“I’m a fighter, human, not a story teller. Get a –“

“I’m asking because I got a lot of Turian and Asari customers here. If you got a problem with them, I want to know that before I hire you on.”

He sneered as he turned. This human didn’t understand Krogan, and Ulroc could only take so much.

“Or were you one of those ‘soldiers’ that got themselves caught by a human patrol or something?”

He froze. How did –

“Ah, so that’s how it was, huh? You got captured out somewhere by humans? Pirates, or something else?”

The human was bluffing. He’d…he’d wiped those records. The salarian had promised that they’d never surface, or, at least, he thought Salarian’d promised that. His memories were foggy, and he couldn’t remember exactly. It was a long time ago anyway. But how did the human know? And why did his voice sound so monotone when he said it?

You were captured by slavers, weren’t you? Slavers that were determined to break you, leave you helpless and weak. But you were strong. You were a strong Krogan, a true Krogan, and you never lost your fighting spirit.

“Yes…I was stronger than them.”

Yes, you were. You were a true Krogan, showing strength no matter who your enemy was. You never flagged, never faltered. Even losing your armor didn’t bother you, because a true Krogan is not measured by weapons or armor, are they?

“No…no they’re not. I am Krogan, and I am Krogan with armor and without it.”

“Yes you are, Ulroc. And I only hire true Krogan. So why don’t you prove you are, huh?”

Prove it? Hadn’t he proved it by coming here? He hadn’t run. He’d lowered himself to this, and that had to show something.

But no, no. There was something else. A true Krogan never needed armor, and despite keeping his ‘weapon’ exposed, he was still covered in it. He still hid behind it, rather than facing life the way a true Krogan would. No wonder the human doubted him.

The buzz drowned out his thoughts as he took his chest piece off, dropping the polished armor to the floor. Plates of metal and shields fell from his arms and legs, and even the rounded metal protecting his hump was removed. He grinned as he stood among the pile, his hands on his hips as he put himself on display. His secondary ‘weapon’ pointed at the human, bobbing slightly.

“Is this true enough Krogan for you?”

“Mmm, I’d say so, Ulroc. You’re pretty well on your way to proving your place here.”

“On my way? Human, you aren’t getting anyone better than me here.”

“Probably not, but I need to make sure that you fit, and I’m still not convinced you’re ‘true Krogan’.”

A true Krogan is patient, and a true Krogan knows how to prove himself in time. No warrior rose to their height in a single moment.

It was strange how similar that second voice was to Ken’s, but Ulroc knew that it spoke the truth. He couldn’t expect the human to just know what he was worth. He had to take his time, let the human figure it out, and then, when the human knew he was a true Krogan, this job was his. That was all that mattered.

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