A/N: Thank you soooo much for the reviews! It really helps to know when I've done a pretty decent job and readers are anticipating another chapter, so keep it up and I will too!


For the rest of the evening, Saren Arterius couldn't get his mind off of the human female he'd seen at the club. What was she doing at the Citadel? Last he knew she was on Omega, doing the type of work that better suited her expertise. She had successfully made a name for herself, not only within the Alliance spec ops, but within the Spectres as well. He'd overheard the council and other Spectres whispering her name before she disappeared from the Alliance roster. It had taken some digging to locate her again, only to find that she was working for Aria T'Loak, the overseer of Omega. While not the most optimal choice, Aria was known to choose only the best for her employ. It could have been all uphill from there. And while he hated the idea of humans having a place in galactic society, he couldn't deny that she would have made one hell of a Spectre.

He remembered that little human girl on Mindoir. The fire had burned so brightly in her eyes, even after all the horrors she'd witnessed. Any lesser individual would've been broken and traumatized. He didn't know what had possessed him to keep tabs on her after handing her over to the Alliance. He should've just let it go and not involved himself in a human's existence. But for some reason he was curious; curious about what the human would do with the life he'd given her. And, up until tonight, he wasn't entirely dissatisfied. She had become a masterful killer with a strong focus on completing any mission she was handed, no matter the cost. The Alliance was lucky to have someone like her; someone to take on the jobs on which the upper echelon preferred to turn a blind eye. But now it had seemed that she had discarded that part of her life. And though he shouldn't have cared, he couldn't help but feel disappointment.


The next night, Shepard suddenly found her job quite a bit easier. She didn't know why, but many of the patrons now seemed more respectful than yesterday. Some had even been giving her looks of awe. Relieved at the lack of ass grabbing and gnarly comments, she went about her business, shrugging off the whispers that had radiated from the tables she passed.

As she stood at the bar, waiting for an order of drinks to be made, she caught someone staring at her. Glancing to her left she locked gazes with a scarred krogan. His crimson eyes almost smiled as he studied her.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped. His scrutiny was beginning to make her rather uncomfortable.

"A fellow warrior it would seem!" he declared with a laugh.

She narrowed her gaze at him as if he mocked her. "What are you going on about?"

"Are you not Adrianna Shepard, The Butcher of Torfan?"

Shepard made a face. "Butcher of—" She wasn't surprised by the label she'd been given, but more by the krogan's knowledge of it. "How do you know that?"

He laughed again. "Your face is plastered all over the vids."

"The vids?" she gasped. Anxious heartbeats suddenly pounded against her chest. Why was she on the vids? Were they finding reason to hunt her down? Was she now being considered a war criminal? The Butcher of Torfan. That would explain why none of her customers would mess with her. Would she need to move on again? Find somewhere remote to avoid bounty hunters? So many thoughts passed through her head; and all of them less than positive.

"Calm down, human. Your people were just making a statement about your involvement on Torfan. Apparently the batarians have been up-in-arms about the whole ordeal and they're now putting it to rest." He shook his red-crested head at her surprised expression. "You need to get out more."

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Looks like Hackett held up to his promise. "Thank you for the news update—"

"Urdnot Wrex. Remember it well."

"Well met, Wrex," she said with a nod. "You can just call me Shepard."

He grinned wickedly. "I kinda liked The Butcher myself, but whatever."

As soon as the drinks were ready for delivery she bid the old krogan farewell. As she headed for her table she could see the general from the corner of her eye, seated in the exact same spot as yesterday. His table was empty and she wondered if anyone had yet waited on him. She contemplated stopping by after delivering this order. That was, until she saw Fist approach the general. Probably taking time to suck up to the high paying customers, she thought sourly.

After dropping off the drinks to a couple of salarians, she turned to find Fist heading straight for her.

"Adrianna!" he said, much too pleasantly.

She didn't bother to hide her look of contempt. Everything about this man rubbed her much the wrong way and she couldn't stomach being in his presence for more than a minute. "What is it, Fist?"

"It would seem that the general has no interest in his usual dancers today. Instead he wants you."

"M-me?" she sputtered.

"Yeah, I was a bit surprised by that too," he murmured thoughtfully.

Shepard made a face, not liking the way he said that. "Sorry, I don't dance," she said dismissively. She was about to push her way past him when he grabbed an arm to hold her back.

"You do now. The general is willing to pay a lot of money to see you shake your ass on that table."

"I was hired as wait staff, not as a stripper!" she snapped.

"Well, for today, your job just got a little bit more fun. And better paid." He grinned at her sour expression. "Let me put it this way. You don't do this, you no longer have a job here. You catch me?"

She could feel her teeth grinding with rage. He was leaving her no choice. Right now, she needed this job. There was no way around it. "Fine," she snarled, shoving her tray at him. "Tell Reesha to cover for me."

"Have fuuuun," he sung as she pushed past him.

She stared down the general as she approached. Yesterday, she almost liked the turian. Today, she hated him. She couldn't believe he wanted her to dance for him! It was infuriating! Who did he think she was?

She stood before him, hands on her hips, glaring with intense fury.

"Shepard," he purred, flashing his teeth at her. "Please, have a seat."

She reeled back in shock at his request. "Weren't you expecting a dance?"

Septimus shook his head tsking. "Is that what Fist told you?"

She nodded, her expression skeptical.

"While I would most certainly love to watch you dance, I simply wanted your company. I thought it only fair that I pay to make it worth your while. Unless… you were looking forward to dancing," he rumbled, his eyes trailing up and down her body.

She felt herself blush at his roaming gaze. "I'd rather not."

"Then please, sit with me."

After lowering herself into the other chair she peered at him questionably. "So, was there something you wanted to discuss?" She felt odd sitting here, technically working, but not. She was getting paid to do this, however. Still, she quickly scanned the club, relaxing slightly when she found Fist nowhere in sight.

The general looked somewhat sheepish. "Actually, there was. Yesterday, when you told me your name was Shepard, I thought it was quite familiar. It wasn't until watching the galactic news today that I realized why."

"Oh… that." She sifted uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, Shepard. I, for one, don't judge what you had to do on Torfan. Had those slavers gotten away there would have been additional colonies invaded, more deaths, and—well, you get my drift." At her nod he continued. "I want to offer you an opportunity, Shepard."

"An opportunity?" she asked curiously.

He nodded. "I've been helping C-Sec investigate some illegal arms deals that have been going down in The Wards lately. I've attempted to employ the services of the Spectres, but they unfortunately feel this is below their concern."

"The Spectres?" Her interest was piqued with his remark. Somehow the mere mention of that name riled a curious sense of familiarity.

"Yes. They are an elite group of agents appointed by the Citadel Council. I've been able to obtain some information through them, but they have not been allocated much time in assisting with this matter." He shrugged.

"Hmm…" She knew something like this would be right up her alley. However, there was the concern of payment. She wasn't about to give away her time freely.

As if reading her thoughts he added, "You will be very well compensated."

Now, that's what she liked to hear! "What do you need me to do?"

"Actually I'd rather not reveal too many more details in public." He paused giving a brief moment to an idea already formulated. "When is your next night off from work?"

Shepard blinked at him in surprise. "Uh, tomorrow actually."

"Perfect," he growled. His sand-colored eyes flashed with anticipation. "Meet with me tomorrow near the Presidium's reception desk. We can talk more about the details, what it entails, and perhaps even get to know one another better.

She arched a brow at the last part. "Is this a briefing, or a date, General?"

He grinned, mandibles flaring as he chuckled. "Perhaps both if my ulterior motives are not ill-received."

Her cheeks warmed at his solicitous attentions. For as long as she could remember, she'd found turians quite enticing. Maybe it was their feral appearance and demeanor. Or perhaps the danger their claws and teeth presented and the strength of their physique. One psychologist friend she'd confided in about her strange attraction chalked it up to Mindoir. She said that the nature of Shepard's traumatic experience would have caused her to cling fondly onto the memory of the one who had rescued her. In all honesty though, she couldn't even remember what he'd looked like, aside from being turian. Did he even ever tell her his name?

"Tomorrow it is then," she confirmed.

"Excellent! Can you be there around 16:00?" He looked pleased when Shepard nodded affirmatively.

With a grin and the exchange of a sizable credit chit for her time, Septimus took his leave. She wasn't sure what excited her more. The prospect of additional income. The appealing subject matter of the job and the ability to get her hands dirty. Or the general himself. In either case, she looked forward to the change of pace that tomorrow would bring.