Hell of an Anesthetic

Independent Zaeed Massani from Mass Effect. Read the guidelines before interacting. STATUS: HIATUS UNTIL 4/29

[anesthetized-blog]

is2keelah: 

       Counting Haestrom, Shepard had come to save her ass far too many times to count. Even before his resurrection, the Commander always seemed to catch the quarian in rather compromising situations, or worse, deadly ones. It didn’t help that her species made her an automatic liability. There were soldiers, sure… but her people were migrants and tended to not get involved in galactic politics and conflicts. They were still reeling from the Geth War.

       “Oh, he’s the best –––” she responded without pause. There was a reason Cerberus had spent limitless amounts of credits and resources into Project Lazarus. It was a surprise that someone as seemingly smart and cunning as Zaeed to make a remark like that. “Really, you probably haven’t really seen the best of him yet. But maybe something disastrous will happen on the next mission and he can save us all… again,” a chuckle left her lips and slipped past the microphone.

       Keelah, she was fawning over him… in front of a merc.

       “––– I mean, my opinion is no different than anyone else’s.”

He was still working with the rifle. Everything about it looked fine--no heat sink was jammed, the metal block was where it should be--but nothing was working. There was a crease forming between his eyebrows and then Tali lost herself. Shepard’s the best, he’ll save them all, a quiet laugh that lit up her helmet.

“Shit. Alright. I knew it’d be something like this,” he admitted, brushing off her lame attempt at saving herself. She wasn’t kidding anyone with that. Just an opinion. No one would risk dying twice just to pay off a debt, but dying for someone...

“Two years holed up in a goddamn ship and still can’t spill it,” he said, even if she wouldn’t like that, "just following around. Like a lovesick varren.”

[anesthetized-blog]

kcmpfer: 

         Matthias huffed and shrugged. His arms returned to their crossed position as he eyed over Zaeed’s… whatever he was trying to do — finding cameras, apparently. 

“Oh, come on, Zaeed. Would it really kill you to admit that you’ve lost?” he asked, and to be honest, Matthias wouldn’t even be surprised if the next thing he hears from Zaeed’s mouth was a blatant ‘ yes ’, so he simply took his words before he could say anything, “Mordin’s a smart guy, but he’s also a friend, remember? You surely should trust him not to do such things when you already trust him well enough to fight at his side.”

Would it kill him? Shepard never gave him time to answer.

Naturally, Mordin was one of the best salarians he’d ever worked with. Smart, quick on his feet, but so was his mouth and if it weren’t for the fact he used to be STG, someone might’ve already tried blowing his mouth off. Maybe someone already tried.

“Different game, different rules. No one plays fair if they can help it. Smart ones just hide better,” he challenged, ignoring the fact that he didn’t trust Mordin and still lost. Zaeed moved aside to search elsewhere but was running out of places to search. He scanned the floor. A minute passed. Nothing yet. “That asari you picked up. Samara. Justicar, I think it was. Hell of a woman.”

[anesthetized-blog]

adastraed: 

                if there was anything shepard appreciated about being a CIVILIAN, it was that she could actually get some damn SLEEP. civilian problems consisted of running out of MILK and not having enough space for your growing space ship replica collection. it was easy– it was simple– but it didn’t stop shepard from sleeping with a PISTOL on her nightstand. after all, a day in the life of ex-COMMANDER SHEPARD wasn’t complete without a healthy dose of PARANOIA.

                                  and it’s that SAME paranoia that comes to FRUITION at the sound of glass shattering. eyes snap OPEN and her hand finds comfort in the weight of her gun. if she wasn’t half asleep, maybe she could go as far as to say that this was almost NOSTALGIC– that she missed the adrenaline. feet pad quietly down the hall, breathes timed evenly to give her better opportunity to ANALYZE the situation. two people. only a SLIGHT disadvantage.

                   before she knows it, muscle memory acts on its own. pistol aimed and finger on the TRIGGER, shepard clears her throat and stands her ground. “ you better tell me what the FUCK you’re doing in my house before i— oh, shit.”

                                RECOGNITION hits her like a freight train and whatever blissful bubble of ignorance she’s been LIVING in pops. poof. gone. her gun toting arm lowers and her jaw hangs OPEN. she’s sure she owes an EXPLANATION or two. 

“Help me. Please! He’s going to--”

Zaeed stomped and the batarian whined, crumpled, folded in on himself in pain with a cough of blood. That voice... 

It was just last year. Earth was on fire, people were crawling over the ground bleeding out and fighting down to their bare hands beating off husks, death, tears. Then a bright wave of red light and every Reaper collapsed onto the ground. They said Shepard didn’t make it. She sacrificed herself. They held a memorial service but he never went. 

And now she was here. Same eyes. Same hair. Same high cheekbones and the same godforsaken way she held that pistol, all instinct. She lowered her gun. He did, too.

“Shepard. Always thought you might show up. Too stubborn to go down in a fight,” he said, almost like no time had passed at all. “Knew it’d come down to this.”

[anesthetized-blog]

Sorry I haven’t been on much, guys. A family member passed and my attention’s spread out. I’ll try to keep on top of things, but I’m putting it out there I won’t be here so often. 

-August

[anesthetized-blog]

adastraed 

The batarian was tripping, stumbling, and in a fit of desperation snatched a vase and hurled it. It missed. 

“Please! I-I didn’t do anything! I--”

Zaeed pistol-whipped him across the head and he knocked against the ground in a loud, spluttering thud. There was glass from the vase strewn across the floor and he sliced his hand over a shard but made no sound. His black eyes were wide with fear. His mouth quivered with a plea. Zaeed’s boot crashed into his ribs and forced him down.

“Shut it.”

[anesthetized-blog]

kcmpfer:

           Matthias knew Zaeed well enough to know that he might be a little pissed up now, but later on, he’d calm down eventually before any real damage is done. And even when the damage would be done, it fortunately would be done during battle.

      “Er…,” he said, as he exchanged a glance of confusion with Gardner. Matthias merely shrugged at Gardner as if he was saying ‘ don’t take it personally. He’s not in a good mood ’. —- “Zaeed, what are you searching exactly now? I’m not saying that you’re not allowed to search the cabinets, but… the slightly pissed off attitude you’re showing really unsettles me. —- Don’t break anything, yes?”

“Met this kid once. Won a game against some batarians. Most people can’t even tell which set of eyes to look at. Found out he had cameras put around the place, people on the inside.” So he thought maybe the same thing was going on here. Zaeed peered under the cabinets in case one was hiding there. Or even two. Matthias asked him not to break anything, and he answered, noncommittally, “Yeah. Sure, Shepard.”

“I’ve detected no additional cameras aboard the ship, Mr. Massani.” EDI’s voice rippled through the Normandy. “Mordin Solus beat you fairly.”

“What do you know?”

EDI shut off and Zaeed found... nothing. Yet. He looked pissed enough for Gardner to shuffle away. 

[anesthetized-blog]

is2keelah: 

       “It’s nothing righteous like that,” Tali continued, attempting to clarify her position on just why, exactly, a quarian was on a human ship, and not amongst her people. “I care about my people ––– and I owe him a debt.”

       Her life.

       She wasn’t one to take help when it was offered; and none of that amounted to pride. Her rifle and her mistakes were normally her own business. But when it jeopardized the lives of those on the mission, and Shepard’s ( most importantly ), then it was hard to logically explain why she couldn’t possibly hand over her rifle. With a sigh, she gestured to the damn thing.

       “The Reaper tech… It was jamming the upgrades. I don’t even know where to start.”

Suicide mission for a debt. Either it was more than a debt or too big of one.

"Figured you might say that. Never worth it, paying debts. Too much can go wrong. Owe a man your life and sooner or later you're looking down the wrong end of a gun. Collectors’ no different, I take it." He didn’t know what happened when they first met--her and Shepard--but he knew what happened down in Haestrom, knew she could’ve died. Owing someone your life was never a good thing. Not as far as he knew.

Checking out the rifle, he could tell he’d held something like it before. Shot at by them more. He started looking over the barrel and the upgrades she was talking about.

“Hope Shepard’s half as good as they say he is. Should’ve booked it when you had the chance.”

[anesthetized-blog]

vckarian:

    HIS FLANGED VOICE, a bit hazy from the alcohol, is loose and S H A K Y against his more-than-enthusiastic response. ❛ mm. mm !! right !! i like your style, massani. ❜ with the hot tub idea down the drain, the two are hustling to try and find other ways to safeguard against possible clone attacks. garrus wants to guarantee the safety of their commander, no matter what. ❛ and what about the CYANIDE you suggested for the sink? and the refrigerator? if we’re going to do one                         might as well do them all !! ❜ 

"No point in having just one. Never know where someone might break in--front door, windows, vents. They do so much as think about it, they’ll be blowing themselves out of orbit,” he agreed, about as pumped up as he could ever be. God, just the thought of it. A screaming ball of flames shooting for the sky. Crying, disintegrating. On the news. 

Zaeed paced around the kitchen opening several doors. “Every respectable solider’s got to have a couple of propane tanks. Hidden, probably. Kitchen's too easy for anyone with the wrong idea.”

Her room. He turned for the stairs.

[anesthetized-blog]

kcmpfer:

         It wasn’t even the fact that Matthias hadn’t thought of it earlier that Mordin would do that that made him snort. After all, it didn’t even seem as if Mordin ever really sneezed without analysing and/or testing anything in the process.

        “Hah, you know how Mordin is,” Matthias huffed as he de-crossed his arms to brandish his right arm around. “I don’t necessarily think half the salarians I’ve seen so far had even gotten close to Mordin’s intelligence. — Well, I only think, anyway; I’m not sure. I mean… those ones I saw might have been smart when they hadn’t been passed out beneath and on top of bar tables.

“Makes no difference. Still had me figured out, way I see it,” he glowered. He was more worked up about this than anyone, probably to everyone’s amusement. On the other hand, Shepard was getting comfy.

“You haven’t seen the right ones. Don’t pack a punch--salarians--but smart. They let you think you’re winning then throw you under without so much as a warning. Lie in wait. Strike when no one's looking." He was still searching. Sounded like there was experience to that. “Drunk human’s no better. Pit one against a salarian. The salarian'll win every time.”

Nothing. Annoyed, he went off to search the cabinets nearby. Gardner was staring.

"What are you looking at?"

The sergeant raised his hands in surrender and Zaeed went back to his search.

[anesthetized-blog]

is2keelah:

       Her teeth clenched at his remark about her shotgun. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with it when it functioned perfectly normal. But what happened was beyond her control… For some reason it was jamming and her upgrades were being overridden by the Reaper tech. It didn’t make any damn sense. If she wasn’t entirely embarrassed for her dismal performance, she’d be furious with herself and the inanimate rifle on the ground.

       “It’ll do a better job next time –––” she knelt to pick the gun back up. “I don’t make mistakes twice.”

       Tali cleared her throat and tossed the shotgun on the tabletop, swiping her omnitool over it, further scanning for any other damages or flaws. Then again, it was rude to ignore and deflect conversation. And it didn’t hurt to try and appear more… approachable, for the sake of her species and her own reputation.

       “We’re, uh…” she sighed, finally look up at Zaeed and relaxing her body language. “We’re a very community-based race. I’m resourceful enough to know how to survive on my own. And I know a greater cause and purpose when I see one.”

       The quarian didn’t dare admit that her attachment to Shepard was another part of her reasoning.

“Anyone who tells you every gun’s the same is either dead or has never pulled a trigger. A good enough rifle can get you out of just about anything.” Like Jessie.

As Tali picked her rifle back up, Zaeed listened. He’d heard it all before and he never understood it. Community meant working with other people as a whole. He sometimes did, but that was just numbers. In the end, he only looked out for himself. Until now, maybe.

“Yeah, yeah. Save the galaxy, play hero; Shepard gave me the rundown. Told me about your stint with that turian spectre a few years back. Took a bullet to the head,” he said, remembering the story. Tali flared on her omnitool then, scanning her rifle. Wouldn't she have done that the first time? She must have been running out of luck. He got off the wall.

“Give it here," he said.

[anesthetized-blog]

vckarian

"You think Shepard’ll need this?” 

Zaeed stood in the commander’s kitchen holding a can of non-stick spray. Everywhere else, the crew was lounging, playing old games and debating what food they should order, unaware of the fiasco going on. An idea went off in his head and he set the can down. The stove. “Forget the bath. The stove’s a bomb waiting to go off,” he said, the thought bubbling in his mind.

“Put a propane tank in the ventilation shaft and rig the knob here. A classic. Clone stops by, decides it wants to fix itself a hot meal and turns the dial. Next second, the place is goddamn warzone.” A satisfied look was in his eyes. “Only thing it’ll be cooking is itself, I tell you.”

[anesthetized-blog]

HC: Medical Care

Zaeed has no love for hospitals and doctors for two reasons: 1) he’s stubborn since he’ll usually think he can “walk it off” and 2) distrust.

He’s had poor experiences with doctors in the past. He’s traveled the Terminus to the seediest neighborhoods of some planets with limited medical care, both in quality and quantity. Often times a back-alley doctor’s the best bet when no certified physician is around. Many people have had organs cut out, have had botched procedures and prostheses, or have died on the table. There's little choice. Go to a real doctor and they’re legally bound to report any gunshot wound, reel in the cops. The police are nothing but an inconvenience for Zaeed.

Anyone who can save a life can take one. Doctors have needles instead of guns, drugs instead of grenades, and the blind trust of everyone who sees them. It makes them the perfect, silent killer. In spite of that, Zaeed respects Chakwas, finds her clever and “tougher than she looks.” That said, he’ll fix himself to avoid a doctor’s visit if he can help it. 

He also hates needles.

“Can’t stand needles. Hey, don’t laugh. Every time there’s a needle, someone’s trying to put something in you. You have no way of knowing,” he explained, rolling his shoulders. Zaeed continued. “Went down to your doctor once. Vaccination, I think it was. I told her I wasn’t having it, so she lets me go. That’s it. No fight--nothing. Moment I head for the door, she sticks me in the arm, never even saw it coming. Oldest trick in the book... Clever woman.”

She said it wouldn’t hurt. she’s full of lies. 

*breaks all ribs. loses 3 limbs* “walk it off”

[anesthetized-blog]

is2keelah: 

@anesthetized​ liked for a starter

       She had been staring at her rifle for the past hour and a half. Not a word or a single peep came from her helmet, though the tapping of her fingers along the counter only grew in tempo and volume. Tali’Zorah was losing patience with this particular predicament. She knew that using Flotilla funds to simply upgrade and fix her own personal weapon was likely allowed… but it was a moral dilemma. Why not let Cerberus pay for it? Bastards.

       Her arm swiped along the surface in frustration, sending her shotgun tumbling to the ground. “Shi–––” the curse word left her lips and was immediately cut off, realizing that she was not entirely alone.

Her shotgun crashed onto the ground, but he did not react. 

The last mission was tough. It was him, Shepard and Tali. The Illusive Man had sent them to scan a Collector ship and retrieve anything about Reaper tech. It was quiet at first. Then husks and collectors started crawling out in a hail of gunfire, heat sinks, and tacky blood. They made it out somehow. Shepard looked like he’d choke the Illusive Man. He’d have to beat Zaeed to it.

“Looked like you were done for. Nice shotgun. Not much of a kick, but it did the job," he said, finding a place closer to the other side of the room. "You don’t find many quarians out in the Terminus. Most of 'em are kids, keep to themselves, stay out of trouble. Whole pilgrimage thing, I gather." Then there was Tali on the Normandy, not the Fleet, with a gun out for the Reapers. "Guess Shepard’s got a thing for different.”

[anesthetized-blog]

kcmpfer: 

           Matthias only gave the others a side-eye, wondering what they were all doing and especially why they were suddenly leaving as soon as he showed up. Though, to his luck, Zaeed stayed — someone at least. But seeing the poker chips and cards on the tabletop, Matthias did not really need any hint what they’d been doing.

“Aw… No invitation for the commander, huh?” he huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, at least it seemed like no one was having fun at the end, so lucky me, I’d say.” He sat himself down on a chair across from Zaeed, leaning back. “How much was in this time?” 

Truth be told, the others did suggest they pull Shepard in, but then they thought he had his hands full. Maybe next time.

“That’s just it. He didn’t take a single credit, not a goddamn one. Said he was studying, testing a theory. Should’ve known better,” Zaeed growled. He hadn’t lost anything, then. Just a sore loser. And the others didn’t appreciate being test subjects, but it wasn’t a big deal to them. He picked himself off the chair just as Shepard settled down, and looked around the room. First, the walls. 

“Must’ve bugged the place. Krogans, they'll bash your ribs in, guns go off. But salarians? Half of 'em are too smart for their own good.”

[anesthetized-blog]

gunnerychief: 

She’s found an amber OCEAN in her glass, and its sea water floods her veins. thoughts move slowly, thickly, now, but she’s sharp enough to have HALF-WAY decent aim if shit hits the fan like it always does when shepard’s in a fucking ten mile radius.  there’s enough alcohol in the apartment to intoxicate the turian military — that is, if they could drink the stuff — and shitty music in the background and the w e i g h t of the world has tumbled off her shoulders for a few blissful hours (she’s not atlas; shepard holds that title, but the lives that rest on their actions, on them, is still a heavy burden on her conscious.  you can’t save ‘em all—— but god help her, she wishes she could. )

Her thoughts snap from that, to meet the gaze of an ALMOST familiar face.  it takes a moment, then she’s tossed back to horizon.  it’s only the alcohol that makes her grin easy, for thoughts of horizon always swing her mood the other way…

The memory of the collector attack and —————— HELP I CAN’T MOVE I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T——

Fuck.

Her grin wavers for a moment, and is replaced by a tilt of the brow. teeth sink into one side of her lip.“ That’s RIGHT.  ashley williams ——– ” she pauses, snorts, rolls her eyes.  there’s a soft slur to her words, but not bad enough that one can’t understand her.  “ maybe i just wanted to chug a bottle of it —- can’t a person just get drunk for the SAKE of being drunk? ”  no. not when dead teammates faces and all your damn failures flood your thoughts and leave you hollowed out with g u i l t.  “ glad i made the cut.  i kicked its ass. ”

She was dodging it. Drink a whole bottle of Noverian Rum--the strong stuff--in one night, it meant something bad. But Earth was aflame, every species they knew was endangered, including their own, and her family could have just died. Everything was a good enough reason to get drunk now, he guessed. It might even be their last chance.

“I’ve met a lot of people who can hold their drinks, but never anyone who’d drink a krogan under the table. Alliance soldiers always go out first unless the bottom of a bottle's the only thing that'll put them to sleep. Bad habit. Don't do it,” he said and, maybe that in and of itself, was a compliment. Zaeed grabbed his glass then, shot it back and let it burn down his throat, warming his chest. All of the talk and alcohol sparked an old memory of his, and he’d be damned if he kept it to himself. 

“Reminds me of this time I had a drink. Batarian synthale, I think. Had a glass once from some old distillery, knocked me out a good week. Could have sworn they put something in it,” he explained, watching Wrex and Grunt headbutt each other. “Woke up on the floor with a splitting headache and a salarian female standing over me. Never threw a punch quicker.” 

[anesthetized-blog]

kcmpfer

The rest of the Normandy squad picked themselves up, agitated and grumbling, then filed back to their stations. Zaeed was the only one who stayed in his seat. A few poker chips and cards were sprawled out over the tabletop and, just as Shepard came in, Garrus gave him a knowing look before disappearing with everyone else.

“Ever played poker with your Mordin Solus? Don’t. Salarian’ll bleed you dry, the son of a bitch,” he groused. In all retrospect, he should have known better than to get involved. Judging by how upset everyone save for Miranda and Kasumi sounded, though, he wasn’t the only one.

[anesthetized-blog]

adastraed

Everyone was out for some down time and Zaeed was at the Castle Arcade again, only not on the claw this time. He was holding a toy gun, aiming at something on the screen then grumbling as the red glowing words ‘GAME OVER’ flashed over the screen. He must have sworn, because an asari glanced over, covered her little girl’s ears, then walked off. 

“Whole fucking arcade’s set up,” he exclaimed, checking himself for more credits. “Hoarding credits, probably. I’ll drag the owner, shove his head so far up his arsehole the lump in his throat'll be his nose. Horns. Mandibles. Not important. See how he likes it.”