"Atemisk.."

He could hear his mother's usually gentle voice call out his name in a rather unusually demanding tone.

"Atemisk.. listen to me."

No. He shook his head, hoping to loosen the grip of the resurfacing memories. He refused to relive them right now. Not after his incredibly successful drug bust. It had been a very good day. So he'd have no reveries about that part of his past tonight. He'd been in incognito for almost two months now trying to discover something. Anything! Too many days went by without any kind of clue and he was starting to lose patience. As were his superiors. But today those mercs had slipped up. Someone had either gotten lazy or was sacrificed in order to make enough time for the rest of those mercs to get away. Atemisk had finally stopped the illegal red sand distribution running on the Citadel. Tomorrow he would interrogate the lone mercenary he'd arrested. And then he'd worry about the mercs that had fled. But he need not worry about that tonight. Tonight he was going to celebrate. Tonight, he was finally going to bed Alesshi T'kelas. The curvy Asari currently grinding her hips against the pole in the middle
platform of the nightclub.

He'd had had his eyes set on her for almost a year now. Alesshi was stunning. They never seemed to talk that often though. And when they did, he kept their converations light. Best not to become too involved. He'd made that mistake before, and he would not make it again. This was just sex. There was no obligation for any semblance of permanence. There was no pain. He had no duties to uphold. And for the most part, no one got hurt. Sex was simple. And he was completely content with this lifestyle.

It seemed as though Alesshi had grown quite popular since his last visit several weeks back. He remembered when the owner would have her play bartender or waitress more often than "entertain". Something or other about her being too shy. Although, shyness seems to be no burden for her tonight, if her bare breasts and naked supple ass were anything to go by. No wonder she'd become so popular.

He decided to enjoy a few drinks first and then he'd find Alesshi later in the night. Atemsik weaved his way through the crowd of bodies smashing against one another. The nightclub was filled with aliens of every race. It was nothing short of a miracle that his fringe hadn't taken anyone's eye, or rather eyes, out. After what seemed like minutes of trying to avoid clumsy patrons and their drinks, he finally made it to his usual booth in one of the more quieter corners. He sat down on the velvety seat and sighed at the instant relief of being off his feet.

His booth was by no means extravagant. But with the rock-like military beds his jobs provided, to him his booth felt like the what the humans would call a "California King bed". He wasn't sure what a "California" was, or what it had anything to do with a bed. But he was sure this was what they would feel like.

Aside from the comfort, he was thankful for the space as well. Atemisk was quite tall, even by turian standards. So imagine his surprise to be able to actually fit comfortably in a seat. Especially considering the fact that this was a human owned establishment. It seems as though they'd gone the extra mile in making sure all of their clientele were seen to with their own special needs. It had plenty of room for him and two other people to sit on either side of him. Not to mention roomy enough for another being to slip underneath the table to show him "appreciation" for his continued service to the galaxy. If one was inclined to do so.. again. Some days he loved his job. Other days he REALLY loved his job.

He stretched out six weeks worth of stiff muscles, crossed his arms and leaned back into the plush cushions. He looked around at all of the attending patrons tonight. Asari, Human, Salarian, Hanar, Elcor, Volus. He was sure he'd even seen a couple of Quarians in front of the club. Thanks to the Reaper war, peaceful coexistence among the races was established. Well, for the most part. There were still petty crimes, drugs, slavery and the illegal selling of arms. No matter how many times he'd clean up a mess. There'd always be more to do. More people to save. But that was life.

He smiled and took solace in the fact that at the end of the day people of different races could laugh and share a few drinks together. There's no better bonding glue than by working in tandem to fight a common enemy. Even so, alcohol made even the most mild mannered people act stupid. And this was place certainly packed with enough of it. His steel grey avian eyes scanned the entirety of the club seeking out all of the possible exits, just in case things got ugly tonight. Which usually happened more often than not.

It was Atemisk's job to protect the Galaxy and its people. But there'd been far too many close calls for him in this club. He'd been on the receiving end of too many fists during his attempt to break up a fight. And he wasn't the type to let someone go unpunished for causing him harm. Especially his face. That was his meal ticket when it came to getting women. Well, that and his dual toned voice. So, when it came to the score board, Atemisk may have resumed more fights due to a misplaced punch than he did actually ending them.

But for the most part, he was a very careful turian. He never got into any situation he didn't see a way out of, or at least an exit to escape from if things did indeed go awry. And they almost always did for him. He took note of all exit doors and even a few open windows closer to the ceiling. He'd have to do a bit of complicated climbing to get there, in the event of C-SEC showing up and blocking all of the exits. But nothing he couldn't handle. He'd picked it up from his brief, yet still dangerous time as a merc. Parkour, he believed is what they called it.

He chuckled at the thought. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be submerged in the memory. Deciding to join the Talons was a stupid idea from the get go. But he needed to do it. He wanted to. His father, Calleus, had drilled everything even remotely militant into Atemisk's brain from a very young age. He was a retired general and spent much of his career serving on the Turian Sixth Fleet. His father had played a vital role in defending the Galaxy from the Reapers. Working side by side with all other races to protect organic life as a whole. He was only a young soldier then. But in time through hard work, determination, and a trophy case full of medals, he was eventually moved to the Turian Spec Ops. So his father's overly strict demeanor was to be expected, but all the same, it was unwelcome. Atemisk felt he should be able to choose what ever job he wanted. It was, after all, HIS life. Clearly his father hadn't felt the same. But stemming from both a very militant race and family, one wasn't given much choice as a turian.

So Atemisk had listened to every lesson he had to give. He had taken all the classes, all the lectures, all of the "training camps" his father signed him up for. And eventually he started to excel at them all. He beat record times, aced every test, and demolished his competitors during every shooting competition. He even received letters of recommendation from the drill sergeants to attend any boot camp once he turned the age of fifteen. The look of pride on his father's face would have made Atemisk do it all over again. He'd face every challenge, deal with all the hell and stress it had put onto his young eleven year old body, just to see his father's face light up in pride one more time. He'd spent weeks training, giving up nearly all of his free time, and lost countless hours of sleep. But in that shining moment, it'd been worth every ounce of sweat.

The day he graduated his training camp, his brother, Tilus, apparently had news of his own. Freely willing and eager to follow in his father's footsteps, Tilus had just joined the Turian Sixth Fleet himself. Atemisk had never seen his father actually smile before. Well, other than at his mother. But Caellius' mandibles were spread into as big a turian smile as far as his plates would allow. Having Tilus eagerly chasing Caellius' shadow while Atemisk just reluctantly suffered through it, naturally made all accomplishments Atemisk had made virtually useless in his father's eyes. Caellius was at Tilus' side in an instant. Praising him with possibly every adjective he knew. Atemisk congratulated his brother and attempted to tell him about his own accomplishments of the day, when his dad cut him off mid sentence put his arm around his eldest son and led him to the kitchen to continue his praising. His father didn't even spare him a last glance.

Atemisk waited for his father to come back around. But he never did. He showed very little interest in anything Atemisk did after that. All the training he'd endured, the stress, the backlash from the other students. It was all rendered useless in a matter or moments. He remembered his small mandibles being pulled in so hard on his plates, they'd nearly cracked. He remembered the sting of tears threatening to fall from his eyes and his sharp talons cutting into the softness of his palms from clenching his fists so hard. If it was that easy to lose his father's attention, then he realized it was just going to be a lifetime of him trying to compete with his brother. And he did not want to play that game. He wanted his own life.
He decided that was the day to finally stop shadowing his father and do something HE wanted to do for once. He would prove that he was not a hollow shell for his father to vicariously live through.

Now that he thought of it, he should have just went to enjoy the nightlife of Omega. Start small with a small amount of danger tied in. But instead, he joined up with the Talons. He donned their armor, and took up an alias to remain anonymous. Best to keep his two lives separate from each other, lest someone he loved get hurt. Now that he was older, he could laugh at how immature he'd been. Now he realized just how fucking stupid he was for even entertaining the idea. In lieu of the two prominent bullet wound scars he possessed, he could have died. Hell, he almost did! He would have had she not followed him.

If she hadn't come..

Atemisk's eyes nearly popped from their sockets with how fast they shot open. He growled at himself for thinking of her again. He hadn't thought about her this much for years. Why now? He needed to relax, he needed to stop thinking. The night was just getting started and he already needed a drink.

As if on cue, Atemisk noticed a waitress making her way with a tray full of drinks to his table. He immediately recognized her. Her name was Christina and she was looking rather attractive tonight. His predatory eyes could already make out the out of place layer of makeup covering her usually pale face, even from quite the distance between them. She had a very slender frame with legs that seemed to never end. And the thigh slit dress she was wearing tonight only seemed to prove that theory. She seemed to effortlessly float through the crowd with practiced ease. Her frame making it very easy for her to navigate around every patron without so much as bumping them.

"Mr. Qu'in," she said by way of greeting, when finally reaching his table.

"Christina," his mandibles spread and he flashed her a quick turian grin. To which she reciprocated with one of her smiles. With the pleasantries out of the way, she laid her tray of drinks on his table, handed him his usual choice of Ryncol and then helped herself to the cushion next to him.

"So, when'd ya get back?" She asked, leaning back against the cushions.

Christina had usually pale skin. Tonight however, not so much. In fact, now that she was close up, he noticed just how much makeup she had put on. Her normally pink lips were now a deep red. Her orange hair normally pulled into a ponytail was now draped across her shoulders. And her freckles were nowhere to be seen. She normally had enough freckles to put some Asari to shame. They traveled from her face to her shoulders and even further. Although she seemed fairly insecure about them, Atemisk was quite fascinated by them. How could humans differ so greatly from one another? Their skin, weight, heights, voices, hair. Even their textures differed. While turians had small and sometimes hardly recognizable differences. With humans, the sky was the limit.

Some like Christina, could be so small and frail. While others literally looked like they could burst from their clothes at any moment. Some human's hair would be flat, and all but stuck to their head. While other's would bounce around in enthusiastic ringlets. To him, humans were a truly interesting race. In fact, if he were being honest with himself, he would go so far to say that he'd developed quite the fetish for them. He quickly recovered from his train of thought to answer her question.

"Only a few hours ago, actually," He replied.

"Woooow! Hours, huh? I'm impressed! Surprised you didn't have them immediately drop you off here," she teasingly bumped him with her shoulder and laughed. He couldn't deny how right she was. He would never admit it to her. But he couldn't deny it to himself. He lived alone. His apartment here on the Citadel didn't merit much to him in the "home" department. It served more as a storage unit than anything. He may have slept there a few times. But he worked a lot. He didn't have enough time to make it a home. And to be honest, he didn't care to. He loved his job. So he didn't mind being away for months on end. He liked it that way. So he spent most of his off duty hours here. On occasion he'd visit his family, but that was becoming less and less frequent as of late.

"You've impressed me tonight as well," he said through sips of his drink.

She raised a well groomed eyebrow at him. "And why is that?" She flirtatiously smiled up at him. She enjoyed their talks. It was plain as day on her face.

"I've been here for a whole, what-," he set down his drink and took a look at the time on his omni-tool, " 5 minutes. And you're already here with all of my drinks for the night. 5 minutes is a new record for you. Seeing as how my drinks take about 2 minutes to prepare, each, I'm guessing you had the time to prepare them ahead of my arrival. Meaning you either expected my being here tonight, or and I'm just going out on a limb here, you make them for me every night in hopes that I do show up." He spread his mandibles into a large smile.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks started to redden. She nervously giggled, took a moment to gather her thoughts. And then she sat up and cleared her throat.

"I take my job very seriously, Mr. Qu'in. I pride myself on making sure my customers are seen to in a timely manner," in spite of her firm, confident voice, she started to fiddle with one of the copious amounts of napkins resting on her tray.

"Is that so?" He finished his first drink, set it on the table and sat up as well. Atemisk leaned his elbows on the table and watched Christina, awaiting her reply.

"Yes," she said, looking down. "Do not think that you get special treatment, Mr. Qu'in. I go above and beyond for all our patrons." She seemed to really emphasize his last name this time. She was starting to tear bits away from the napkin in her hands. And she was making damn sure not to look in his direction. She was getting nervous. Precious. Atemisk enjoyed making her squirm. Both locked in battles of the wits and on the rare occasions in the bedroom.

He chuckled. A low and deep rumble emanating from his throat. Christina tried to stifle a shiver, but Atemisk caught it. He chuckled again, his dual tones seemed to have quite the effect on her tonight. He leaned in close to her ear and she nearly melted.

"Are you sure I'm not special?" His voice resonated. He slid closer to her, making the tiny hairs on her arm stand up. "That's certainly not what you were saying before I left a few weeks ago," he teased with a sly suggestive grin. He reached for his second glass and leaned back. Awaiting for the memories of their last intimate liasion to wash over her. She had been quite generous that day, in fact. She had showed him just how special he was, indeed. She didn't even wait until they got to his place. The very second the sky car's door closed she was on him tearing his clothes off.

Her face turned a deep shade of red, even underneath all the caked on makeup. She quickly stood from the seat, removed his remaining drinks from her tray with lightning fast efficiency that would put any gun assembler to shame. And floated back through the crowd. Not once sparing a glance back at him.

Atemisk laughed a deep and hearty laugh. She was so easy to make nervous. He could make her panties wet with only the sound of his voice. And he reveled in that. He could still smell her arousal some thirty minutes after she'd left. It seemed to linger around his booth. He had to admit that the smell was starting to get to him. It was beginning to cause his lower plates to shift. He needed some stress release fast. He had gotten so caught up in his little game with Christina, he'd lost sight of the prize he had had his sights set on. His eyes scanned the room for her to no avail. She'd disappeared. "Damn," he muttered, before finishing off his second glass of Ryncol. He reached for his third glass, and leaned back against the cushions again.

He might as well finish the rest of the drinks Christina had so graciously prepared for him, before he leaves. He chuckled at the thought of her anticipating his arrival.
She was a very generous lover, no doubt. And he almost had the nerve to take her home again. But he couldn't. Christina had become too attached to him. He didn't want to hurt the poor girl. But she wanted a lot more than what he was willing to offer. He could still remember the look of hurt on her face the second time he had rejected her. To her credit, she played it off fairly well. She giggled and waved her hand dismissively saying that she was only joking. But he'd seen the look of utter adoration in her eyes just moments before the pain washed over her features. Try as she might to hide it, he knew the look all too well.
"She" had given him the same look seven years ago..

He shook himself from his musings and opened up his omni-tool.
He still had two more drinks to finish. So he might as well get a little work done in the meantime. With any luck, he may even find someone else to take home tonight. While it wasn't what he'd come here for, it was better than nothing at all.

With his fifth and final drink finished, Atemisk placed his glass on the table.
He sighed a contented sigh at the burning sensation running down his throat. It had been far too long since his last drink, so he relished them when he could. Atemisk may not be what was considered a normal turian, but he was through and through, a professional. He refused to drink while on a job. Under a guise or not. It decreased his reaction time and accuracy.
Both very vital aspects in the jobs he undertook.

Since the fall of the Reapers some odd twenty years ago, the galaxy has seen the largest modicum of peace since the relays were constructed. Not a fact taken lightly. Shepard had ushered in a new era of equality for all races. And for that, the human woman had Atemisk's undying respect. His great great grandfather had played a part in the undertaking of Shanxi. So one would think the hatred for humananity would have remained. But Atemisk's father was, surprisingly enough, about as open minded about other races as Atemisk was. And with his mother being Asari, she wholly encouraged his curiosity.

He thought of his mother and instantly regretted not going to visit her first.
He loved his mother dearly, but he still felt an inkling of regret when he looked at her.
He'd let her down, and while she had forgiven him, he hadn't forgiven himself. It'd been seven years. But he'd never allow himself the luxury of letting it go.
Atemisk sighed and looked down at the time on his omni-tool. 22:05.
He supposed it wasn't too late to at the very least send her a message saying that he was on the Citadel.

He finished up his reports and opened up his messages.
He started typing a message to his mother, hesitated, and then deleted it. He tried again and again. But nothing he typed sounded good enough. So he closed the message and leaned forward onto the table. Nothing he typed would make up for nearly two months of radio silence. His mother had known that he was on an assignment. She'd understood. Unlike his father, she'd always been understanding and proud of his career choice. He thought of the day he told his mother what he finally wanted to do. Her dazzling smile had nearly blinded him. She had wrapped him up in the tightest hug and nearly cried. He could still feel the thousand kisses she had placed on his plated face that day.

He purred in happiness at the memory. He loved his mother. She'd been so supportive of him and he couldn't even take the time to send her the occasional message to let her know he was still alive. He was such a bad son. He took a deep breath, gained some courage and opened up his messages again.
He started typing. He wasn't sure what route to take. So he just settled for being straight forward.

To: Mother
From: Atemisk
Subject: Still alive!

Too dark a joke? No matter. I'm finished with my assignment and have some time before my next mission. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow afternoon for lunch?

-Atemisk

He sent off the message, released the breath he didn't realize he was holding and relaxed against the cushion. He wasn't sure if his mother was awake. But she'd reply the instant she read his message. If it wasn't for the sole fact of him being a turian, no one would have ever guessed that she was technically not his biological mom. She was the perfect example of what every step mother should strive to be. Supportive, caring, kind and always there when you needed her to be. And at times, often when you didn't. The times when you were up to something stupid. He smiled at that.

The music was loud and thrummed throughout the enitre club. It sounded slightly electronic mixed with new age. It certainly wasn't Atemisk's type of music. But he didn't come here for the music. He looked around at the dancers and still no sign of Alesshi. Her shift might be over already. No matter. Plenty of other women here tonight. But he'd wait a couple more minutes for his mother to reply before he decided on a woman to pursue tonight.
The pinging of his omni-tool brought him out of his thoughts. His mother had replied to him. He opened up the message and instantly smiled.

To: Atemisk
From: Mother
Subject: RE: Still alive!

Yes. Of course! They've just opened several new restaraunts on the Presidium I've been waiting to try out. It is so good to hear from you, dove! I assume all went well. Tell me what happened! Well, maybe not all of it. Skip the gory bits and tell me how you saved the day!
Also, you don't have to sign your name at the bottom. I know my own son.
Unless you need to constantly remind yourself of your own name due to your carelessness of protecting your head. In which case, continue, dove.

Atemisk immeidately started typing a reply.

To: Mother
From: Atemisk
Subject: RE: RE: Still Alive!

Well you are getting up there in years, mother. Just making sure you remember who I am.
Sounds good. Pick wherever you'd like. Most of the mercs got away. And we only apprehended one. But we intercepted the red sand and no one got hurt. So technically still considered a success! I'll tell you about everything tomorrow. Gory bits included.
You can't expect me to leave out my shining moments!

He elatedly sent off his witty reply. He and his mother took several light hearted jabs at one another. It was their thing and he had missed it dearly. His omni-tool pinged almost instantly after he sent his reply off.

To: Atemisk
From: Mother
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Still Alive!

I'm so proud of you! Alright. Meet me in the presidium by Avina tomorrow a 13:00, IF you can still remember where that is.

Atemisk laughed and began typing yet another witty response when he felt a weight shift next to him. He looked up to find a rather beautiful, if not a tad sweaty Alesshi sitting next to him. His eyes widened and his mandibles twitched in sudden nervousness. She smelled a mixture of sweat, metal, and alcohol. A mixture he'd become quite familiar with considering his own lifestyle. He also smelled her arousal. Alcohol seemed to do that to most women, he'd realized.

Seconds passed by and not one word was said. Alesshi just sat there with her large blue eyes staring up at him with that same cute smile plastered on her face. Atemisk was not expecting to see her tonight. He had become so immersed in his conversation with his mother that he had even forgotten where he was. To his surprise, he was not prepared for this conversation.