Garrus stood beside the bunk on his ship on legs that were a little weak, still panting lightly as he snapped the codpiece of his armor back into place. If there had been any question about his attraction to Shepard before, there certainly wasn't one now. Getting himself off hadn't been that easy since he had been a young cadet with his first real female under him. And his fantasies had not even been very detailed, mostly due to the fact that he didn't know nearly enough about human physiology. But remembered sensations of her nails scratching along his fringe, and the taste of her tongue against his as she moaned had been just what he had needed.
He had no illusions that he was suddenly a lover of all things soft and fleshy. Even the thought of the blue skinned Asari maidens that were so popular with Turians had never really caught his attention. He had never considered cross-species intercourse before. Damn, thinking of it that way doesn't help. Now I feel dirty and clinical.
At least he felt more focused now, with the cloud of lust taken care of so he could focus on what needed to be done on Omega. Shepard would need Archangel, but first the vigilante would need to cut ties with his squad for the foreseeable future. Something that Garrus knew could not be done until certain matters were settled first. Most notably the Merc companies that were currently hunting the man who had been a thorn in their side, and the squad that had helped him screw up the smooth criminal operations on Omega over the past two years.
Knowing that they were not far out from Omega now, he retrieved his Widow, his duel Phalanx handguns (specially made with the old heat dispersal system that did not require heat sinks to function) medigel, and a stock of disk grenades of various flavors. He also retrieved his visor, which had been running a major software update for most of the day. Sliding it into place over his eyes and adjusting it to allow it to lock into place against the back of his head, he was pleased when the HUD flared to life and started scrolling start-up diagnostics in holographic blue. He had felt just a little naked with it.
When he stepped off of his ship, she was waiting for him. Leaning against a white and black storage crate just at the end of his ship's ramp, watching him with an intensity that made mandibles flex against his jaw. He managed not to stop, though he didn't quiet pull off the pretense of not staring at her as he came to a stop a few feet away. Her green eyes were bright as she looked him over, a look of consideration on her face. She had not changed into her armor yet, which was distracting him to say the least. The alluring scent of her remained, and was a bit stronger perhaps. Strong enough to make him want to breathe deeper just to enjoy it. He did manage to keep his breathing even, however, and his stance casual if not a bit more intimidating and straight-backed now that he was fully armed and more in his element. "Shepard."
When she didn't reply and simply continued to stare at him, he realized that her eyes were on his visor. She was making quite a study of it, too, with her head tilting slightly from side to side as she stepped to one side of him, and then the other to see it from all angles. He stood still during her scrutiny, silently wondering why she was so interested in it… And why her scent definitely stronger now.
She finally seemed to decide something, and stopped her examination when she stood in front of him. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I like it," she told him, green eyes sparkling slightly with amusement. "It makes you looked very… Dangerous. Mysterious, even. I bet bad guys go crazy wondering what you're seeing through that thing."
He let out a short laugh, a quick sound that caused his mandibles to flare wide. "My visor is the least of their worries, Shepard," he said as he reached back to pat his Widow with one hand. "I carry a very large gun."
He had honestly intended nothing at all sexual in the comment, but looking at the somehow knowing grin that came over her face made him feel a little… Uneasy. It didn't help that she stepped closer to him, the same hypnotic swing in her hips that made her waist shift delightfully under her clothes. "I can see that," was her breathy reply, her soft hand reaching up to brush against his mandible lightly.
It only took him one breath to realize exactly why her scent was affecting him so strongly. His eyes darted to her hand and instinct had him taking another, deeper breath through his nose to draw in the enticing aroma. It was different, but far from unpleasant; and because he recognized it easily now, his body was learning how to react to it.
When his gaze turned to her again, she was watching him with the same curious look on her face that meant she was trying to read him. Trying to figure out what he was thinking, or in this case why he was scenting the air. He turned his mouth into her hand as he pinned her with his gaze, and he had the pleasure of seeing her eyes go wide. She had apparently just realized that he knew what she had been doing. Breathing hotly against her palm once, he snaked his tongue out and slid it from the center of her palm to the tip of her index finger slowly. The taste had not lingered; she had obviously cleaned up afterwards, but even lacking that it was a pure delight to watch her eyes cloud and feel her hand tremble against his mouth for a moment when his tongue curled over the tip of her fingers before he drew it back.
"Commander," he said giving her hand another nuzzle, tuning his voice a few octaves lower than it needed to be and watching her bite her lower lip for a moment at the sound, or maybe the feel of the vibrations against her skin. He was really starting to enjoy the effect his voice had on her. "You should get your gear. We'll be docked in a few minutes."
"Hm?" She suddenly seemed to become aware of the fact that they were standing in the middle of the cargo bay, and that her hand was nestled over his mouth and nose. Eyes popping wide, she snatched her hand way from his face and quicker than he could follow snapped it behind her back as if taking it from his line of sight now would change what had just happened. "Right! Omega. Archangel. I'll go get my gear."
And she was off towards the armory, her stride as steady and sure as her voice had been weak a moment before. His mandible twitched once, impressed and a little disconcerted by how quickly she could go from being a woman being overrun by lust, to a commander who was all business. It was like she had a button in her mind, and she just needed to press it to forget everything but their mission. It was a handy skill, even if it was a little annoying; a man couldn't help but feel just a little clip to the pride as she vanished through the door without a backward glance.
Once upon a time, she had not really known much about Omega other than the fact that it existed, and she could have cared less about what went on there. Now, she really, really fucking hated Omega. During her fruitless search for Archangel the last time she had been here, she had seen people manipulated by a self-proclaimed priest, seen others enslaved by debt bullshit debt, had stepped around bodies lying in the trash like so much garbage, had been insulted, threatened, poisoned (at least she had given the bastard a taste of his own medicine, literally) and thrown out of a window at one point.
And not one person seemed to care about any of it. They milled around in three major categories in her mind: those just struggling to stay alive, those who preyed on the ones trying to survive, and those who controlled it all while sitting back and doing nothing to help anyone. Not without a price, anyway. It was beyond wretched. She was no angel; no one who had met her would ever call her some kind of paragon who did her best to make peace with everyone. She tended to stomp on her enemies, and keep stomping until they stopped moving. But she had her morals. She did her best to stand up for what was right, but keeping her eye on the big picture sometimes made it impossible to be all nice and fuzzy when dealing with… Well… Everyone. That was why she punched news reported, had told the Council to go fuck themselves (seemed like a good idea at the time) and had unshackled a damned AI. Because sometimes she reached the point where she had just had enough, and needed to blow off a little steam.
But Omega was not like that. Omega was vile. It was a society where the strong not only ruled over the weak, but abused them with impunity, with a total lack of consequences, and once done cast them aside like yesterday's garbage. Often literally. It was this untouchable boil in space where justice had never been able to find a foothold.
Until Archangel had come, and given the people hope.
And that was why she had been so crestfallen when she had been unable to find him. She wanted someone with that sense of… Right. That unquestionable moral fiber than had made him a legend among the innocents trapped here, and the skill that had made him the terror of everyone else. If only he hadn't been such a damned ghost, she could have at least met the man and shaken his hand even if he had refused to join her in the end.
But now, she stepped onto Omega with a Spectre at her side. A heavily armed Spectre who said he knew how to find Archangel, and moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing as they exited the docks. Confidence that she found very, very sexy.
She hated Omega. But she hated it a lot less with someone she was starting to feel she could trust at her back.
"So where to, Vakarian?" she asked, turning to follow him when he immediately started towards the rental vehicles to the left of the docks.
"We're heading into the Kima District, where Archangel keeps on of his long term hideouts," he said, and paused when his omni-tool beeped. He stopped, and apparently deciding that the message was important enough to open, he muttered, "Just a minute, Shepard. I need to…"
She noticed the moment something changed. The straight backed, confident stance of the male suddenly went lax next to her. She looked up and him, and was immediately struck by the slack state of his mandibles. They hung so limply next to his face that it almost looked like they had been dislocated from his jaw. And his eyes… Those blues that were sharp, quick, and predatory were just cold and distance now. She felt a chill run down her spine when he slowly reached up with a trembling and snapped closed the orange display.
She stepped closer to him cautiously, reaching up to lay a hand on his armored should, "Vakarian? What is it?"
He flinched away from her touch, jerked back really, causing her worry to deepen as he stepped away from her. "Something has come up, Shepard." His voice was cold now, and he refused to meet her gaze as he summoned a car. Even when she had been trying to kill him herself, his tone had simply been sharp and professional. Now it was just… Empty, as if a wall had slammed up around every emotion inside him. "I have to deal with it. Your help isn't necessary."
If he had rounded on her and slammed his fist into her gut she would have felt less like a kicked puppy. And that just pissed her right the fuck off. When the car door opened and he moved towards it with the obvious intention of leaving her behind, she stormed over and blocked his path to the car. "Vakarian, you're not…"
That was as far as she got, before she found the front of her armor gripped, her body lifted as though she were a doll, and then felt the world tip as she was quickly slammed into the hood of the car. The eyes she looked into now were the purest color of rage she had ever seen. An ocean surface during a hurricane was as smooth as glass compared to the primal fury of the blues that pinned her as surely as the hands that held her. "You are not going to stop me!" he snarled furiously. "I am going to kill every last one of them, and I am going to make Garm drown in the blood of his own grrrdikan vorcha!"
She was very distantly aware of the fact that he had just spowken Turian curse so foul that it had been omitted from the translator. She knew this kind of anger. She knew that responding with her own would only make matters worse, and would likely lead to violence between them. She really, really didn't want there to be violence between them. At least not outside of the bedroom. So she did something that she so rarely did, she almost didn't know where to start. She tried to calm him. While he growled, she slipped one of her gloves off quickly and reached up to place it lightly against the side of his face. The way he looked at as it approached made her believe for a heartbeat that he would actually try to bite her, but he remained still as her fingers traced the underside of his mandible lightly.
"Garrus," she began, using his given name and keeping her voice as gentle as possible. "I don't know what's going on, but I know that I need you in one piece. You're the only one who believes me, you're the only one who can help me. You need to calm down and listen."
He seemed more inclined to heave her up and over the railing that lead to the depths of the mines of Omega, and his growl deepened until she passed her fingers over his lips lightly. She saw him breath in deeply, and release. Breath in deeply, and release. The rage never left his eyes, but there was something else in them now as well. Something just as basic, just as primal. Just as dangerous. He can still smell me on this hand, she realized, watching him closely as she used that by tracing her index finger over his mouth slowly. His chest rumbled, and it was a second or two before she felt the heat of his tongue slide over the finger slowly. Now or never.
"I am not going to try to stop you, but I am not going to let you run off halfcocked and get yourself killed," she said, pressing her fingers to his mouth firmly when he opened then to snarl at her again. "I am going with you, and you're just going to have to accept that. Or we could start kicking each other's asses all over Omega. I'm not sure Aria would appreciate that."
She realized that he was watching her like a predator, which was exactly what Turians were at the base of their biological design. Assessing her silently, before his tongue darted over the palm of her hand again once, before he leaned close. For a moment, she froze and half expecting him to attack; he didn't look any less furious than he had a moment before. She was a blink away from struggling to escape before she felt him press his plated brow to her smooth one lightly. And then he just stayed there for a few breaths, long enough for her to consider that he must have been calming himself. Deciding to see if she could help him along, her hand brushed lightly back across his mandible until she found the bare hide at the back of his neck. She stroked him there, and prayed that she was actually doing something soothing. The low rumble rose in his chest seemed to confirm it, the tone softer and resounding through his body rather than being heard. Green eyes slid closed as she traced her fingers along his spinal plates, exploring and committing every ridge to memory.
"You're not leaving me behind, Vakarian," she whispered, her eyes drifting opened as her face grew determined. Predatory blues were opened again, and watching her. The heat of rage still burned inside of them, but it had cooled a little. Cooled enough for her to see a miserable pain behind it. "I don't know what you're planning, but if you're going after the Blood Pack, then you are going to need me at your back, just like I need you at mine against the Collectors. You are stuck with me."
She wasn't sure what exactly cross over his face in that moment. She was lousy at reading Turians generally. The stronger emotions were obvious, and recently she had learned what a Turian looked like when they were aroused. But this one, this one came as he rubbed his forehead against hers lightly for a moment before he drew himself away from her and pulled her off of the hood of the car, and somehow it made her feel a little lost when his hands left her.
"I'm sorry, Shepard," he said, the flanging notes of his voice a little more pronounced. "You're right. I appreciate the help."
She wasn't put off by his clipped apology, or his quick but not entirely grateful acceptance of her help. She had no clue what was going on, but she knew that she had somehow managed to calm him. Well… Her scent had managed to calm him, which was something she decided to tuck away for later research. Turian reaction to scent. There had to be a book somewhere, right? Mordin would know.
Calming an enraged Turian with the smell of my pussy. I've stepped into a universe far stranger and sexier than my own, she decided as he climbed into the driver's side of the car and waited for her to join him. Too bad there are still Reapers here. She bit her lip to keep the bubble of sudden hysterical laughter from coming out and climbed in beside him without a word.
She immediately knew where they were going. The Kima District, a residential section of Omega. Her search for Archangel had led her there, when rumors and innuendo hinted that he might have a base there. She had even managed to find the base, a three story apartment that had granted superior line of sight to the bridge that was the only entrance by foot that she could see. But from the dusty state of the neatly stashed state of the heat sinks, field rations, and medical supplies she had found, it looked as though neither Archangel or his squad had spent much time there recently.
She kept her silence as they moved, even though her eyes kept shifting in his direction. Trying and failing to get a read on him. He was obviously still furious; she was sure that the grip he had on the steering wheel was going to cause it to snap, or that he was simply going to rip it out and throw it in the back seat in a rage. Instead, after a few minutes of silence, he started to talk.
"Three Mercenary groups have been hunting Archangel since his appearance six months ago," he said, almost making her jump with the sudden sound of his voice. "Because of the nature of Omega, it was only smart not to have a central base of operations, and he rarely met with his squad face-to-face. In fact, the only time all of them were in one place was right before they would strike. They all lived in different parts of Omega, were different species, different talents. They never spoke outside of operations. In effect, it was impossible for the Mercs to get a lead on any of them, much less Archangel himself. It was a very efficient and effective way to keep them all safe from retribution."
Shepard listened in silence, and though she kept her thoughts to herself, she again thought that Archangel would make an excellent member of her team. The planning was obviously next level tactical thinking, and also showed that Archangel cares for the people who followed him. And for it to only have taken six months for the Merc companies to treat him as a real threat was no small accomplishment, one earned with precise strikes that had slowly been crippling their operations.
"Two days ago…" He paused, and she could actually hear the sharp grind of his deadly teeth sliding over each other, and the clacking of his mandible as he fought for control. "Two days ago, they picked up a friend of mine, Lantar Sidonis, when they found out that he was Archangel's second in command." This time, she was positive that she heard something under his hands crack, and resisted the urge to reach out to try to sooth him. She wouldn't want to be soothed. There were some things that could not be eased away. "They ripped out his plates, all of his plates, and kept him alive while they did it. When they were finished and there was nothing left of him to torture, they shot him in the back of the head and dumped his body in one of Archangels hideouts. He wouldn't have been able to tell them anything, of course. Even if they had broken him, he wouldn't have been able to tell them where the rest of the team was, or where Archangel was. So he was tortured, and died for nothing. For nothing!" he snarled, and lacking anything in the vehicle to lash out at without causing them to crash, he simply glowered out the window, trembling with fury.
She felt sick as he spoke. She was pretty sure that ripping out a Turian's plates was somewhere between skinning them alive and tearing out bones at the same time. The suffering must have been horrific. "Who told you all of this?" she heard herself asking.
He barked a laugh that dripped with so much hate that the acidic nature of the sound should have burned her. "Garm. He's broadcasting it all over Omega, daring Archangel to come out of hiding to face them. They won't be expecting me."
Shepard frowned, and switched on her omni-tool to search through the Omega broadcasts until she found one with the title 'A massage for Archangel.' She hesitated for a moment, before she opened the broadcast. She kept the sound muted as the tiny hologram flared to life. She could actually feel her skin go white at the image before her; one of a massive Krogan in red armor standing next to a medical table. What was left of the Turian on the table looked to be in shock, and was likely not aware of what was even happening to him anymore.
"Oh, god." She felt bile rise in her throat when Garm took a flat, hook shaped metal tool, almost gently slipped it under the only remaining plate on Sedonis' chest, and slowly pried it off with a rush of blue blood. She could only watch the silent scream of agony for a second before she closed the tool and set her mouth into a hard line. "Us."
"What?" he said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. His attention had been elsewhere, obviously, and she wondered why bloody death he was planning for the leader of the Blood Pack.
"They won't be expecting us," she repeated, feeling the calm spread over her that she always felt before going into a battle.
She saw a twitch of his mandible, and again found herself unable to read his face as he gave her a short nod. "Us." His focus returned to the road as they came closer to the Kima District. "The bastard even included coordinates for where they would be waiting for…"
He stopped speaking so suddenly that Shepard was instantly alert, sitting up in her seat to look outside of the car for what might have caused the sudden silence. She saw it. Just beyond the arrival platform for Kima a squad of LOKI mechs, and a red Salarian in white armor tapping away at his omni-tool and looking agitated. From her short meeting with him the last time she had been here, she thought he likely always looked agitated.
Jaroth, leader of the Eclipse on Omega. Likely checking their firing parameters, weapons statistics, whatever…
"Are you strapped in?" he said, interrupting her thoughts. She could see his hands tightening on the wheel again.
It only took her a second to realize that he intended to do. Her amp whirled, and her barrier flared to life around her before she gave him a confirming nod. "Do it."
She had been in crashes before. Shuttles, the Mako tank multiple times, even an Alliance cruiser once in her younger days as a soldier. She'd even had a Reaper fall on her head. She never really remembered the details of the exact moment of impact. Just the noise, sensation of sickening weightlessness, and a feeling of being out of control and not being able to think anything more than 'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit' until eventually came to a stop. This time, she remembered everything. From the stomach turning speed Garrus suddenly poured on, to the look in the eyes of an unprepared Salarian through the windshield an instant before the car plowed through him and half a dozen of his mechs. She also remembered seeing him rag doll against the hood of the car, get pinned against it as their forward momentum carried them further into the district away from the remaining mechs, and the blunt for of impact that tore her barriers down when the car came to a very sudden stop against what must have been a very sturdy pillar in the middle of the corridor.
Groaning a bit at the aches that were already flaring to life all over her body, she managed to pull herself out of the wreckage only a second or two behind the Spectre, emerging into a world filled with the acrid stunk of smoke and the stale scent of poorly recycled air. Resting her hand on her head to clear it, she rounded the car and was a little shocked to find Jaroth still alive. The lower half of his body was crushed between the car and the wall, there was a great deal of green blood pooling on the ground below, but he was alive and lucid. He might not have been if he had not been wearing the heavy armor. She watched as Vakarian stormed over to him, and Jaroth's eyes widened for a moment, which is exactly the reaction she would expect when the thick barrel of the Widow was placed against his temple.
"Wait!" he croaked weakly, his eyes wild as he struggle pointless against his own pinned lower half. "I didn't have anything to do with…!"
She had never seen someone shot at close range with a Widow before. She had seen plenty taken out at range; had seen the weapon take down shields and armor with equal efficiency, and leave a nice fist sized hold in the back of some poor Asasi's head once. When she watched the Spectre pull the trigger, the throaty roar of the rifle and the violence of the kill seemed to match the mood perfectly. In mid word, the Salarian's head was simply gone in an almost pretty mist that painted the walls green where his head had been; a death so sudden that his heart beat a few more times, thick showers of blood coating the crushed hood of the car before slowing and finally coming to a stop as she and Vakarian watched in stony silence.
"It came from over here! Where the hell is that payjak Jaroth?!"
The sound of heavy footfalls mingled with many lighter ones made them both turn towards the entrance to the district. Rushing through the stairs was a group of hideously lanky vorcha, moving in a surprisingly organized formation. And at the center of the formation came Battlemaster Garm, the massive Krogan moving at a steady, loping pace. She knew from experience with Krogan that he could and would move much, much faster when the battle began. Watching him come closer, she felt a sick sinking in her gut when she saw what he wore on the front of his blood red armor like a trophy.
The facial plates and mandibles of a Turian, hanging like some horrible mask that swayed side to aside as he moved. It was still fresh enough that she could see the smears of blue blood.
She felt as much as heard the sound of agonized rage rumble beside her a moment before she saw Garrus start to move. On reflex, she reached out to grab his arm with an iron grip with one gloved hand. His head snapped, and he looked ready to snarl at her again. Maybe even looked a little tempted in that moment to send her after Jaroth, but her face was cool and calm as she spoke.
"I'll handle the vorcha. You focus on Garm," she said, and saw the understanding sink in past his rage. Giving a quick nod, he tried to pull away but she kept her grip firm as she unclipped her shotgun from her back and starred into his eyes. "Focus, Spectre. You charge in, and you're as dead as Jaroth. You will have done nothing but give that bastard bragging rights."
The sharpness of her tone, the note of command she put forward best when she was about to enter combat seemed to snap against his present state of mind. His eyes became clearer, though the rage was hardly dulled by the fact that he seemed to hear her loud and clear.
"Who the hell are you?" she heard Garm grumble from a spot much closer than he had been before. She glanced over, to see the Krogan frown as he looked between the two of them, and the dead Salarian. "Doesn't really matter who you are, you're in the wrong place…"
Whether or not Vakarian would actually care enough to obey was lost to her when a Krogan Battlemaster bellowed, and more than a dozen vorcha opened fire.