Hi all you Readers out there!
A new chapter is here! And with Ashley's POV! If you like that then maybe I will bring in more of the other's POVs. For the content of the chapter, there isn't much change to the plot but some twists to it.
Fixed 2021
Hope you like it!
Escape the Fate
Chapter 7: Chora's Den
**Quinn's POV
Inside the bar, it was exactly as she had expected it to be– full of asari-ass-drooling idiots of all races. Here on the Citadel, it didn't matter what time of the day it was, there were always plenty of creeps out there who craved for a drink and a cheap lap dance, hoping they would be able to score with the blue dancers. Chora's Den was more of a strip club than a bar, the only difference was the dancers didn't strip off the next to nothing pieces of clothes they already wore. Throughout the space there were plenty of dancing poles in the middle of the booths which was lined up along the walls and the bar was stationed in the middle. And shockingly, there were even dancers above it too.
Rolling her eyes at the women who lowered themselves to the point of shaking their asses to make money, Quinn couldn't help but questioning herself for being there. She preferred Purgatory over this dump. Yeah, sure, she was all for the casual fuck now and then, but never would she step so low in shaking her ass for money.
Scanning the club, it seemed there wasn't much that had changed since the last time she had been there a few years ago.
"I see why this place is so popular. It's got quite the, uh, view…" She heard Pretty-Boy say after he had entered the bar.
"Hey, Lieutenant, put your tongue back in your mouth before you trip on it," Girly-Scout mocked with some slight amusement in her tone. Then her tone turned to disgust as she said; "A million lightyears from where humanity began, and we walk into a bar filled with men drooling over half-naked women shaking their asses on a stage. I can't decide if that's funny or sad."
Quinn couldn't help but smirk at that.
"What? You don't think they're here because of the food?" Pretty-Boy joked innocently.
The club reeked of sweat, lust and alcohol, something which reminded her of the home she had back on earth. Just add some drugs, violence, and guns it would be exactly as home. It made her crave that drink so much more. Quinn headed over to the crowded bar, pushing through the men standing in the way and ignoring their protests and comments and immediately tried to get one of the bartenders' attention.
"Hey, you!" She called out and pointed at the young girl closest to her.
The red headed bartender looked up at her, showing surprise in her eyes for seeing a human woman on the other side of the bar and who wasn't an employee. But the men in front of her demanded her attention and she continued to pour up the drinks they had ordered.
"Hi! I'll be with you in a sec," she said politely.
The girl's nice and pleasing attitude made Quinn realize that the girl was new to this world. She seemed way too young, innocent, and inexpedient for this kind of work. Normally, the bartenders had an arrogant attitude with the power of choosing who they served and who they would make wait. It was a game of letting the costumers know whose money was most desirable and who was more important. And with a bar intended for the male species, women were not as desirable as costumers and therefore no other bartender paid Quinn any attention.
Growing impatient, Quinn slammed her fist down on the bar counter to get the young woman's attention and yelled; "Make time now! Give me the strongest shot you got. Now!"
"I–I'm sorry… I'm in the middle of—"
"I said now!"
The girl jumped once more after Quinn slammed her fist down harder and the girl's eyes had gone wide. For a second, she hesitated and fumbled with the glass and bottle already in her hand, then grew annoyed. She was probably thinking of dismissing her again with a nastier attitude, but that sweet and innocence personality she tried to rid was nothing compared to Quinn's own reckless behavior and energy. One threatening glance was enough to make the girl move and place a glass in front of her.
"Hey, I was here first!" A man complained from somewhere to her left.
"Beat it, slime-o!" she retorted sharply and turned to where the voice had come from and got eye contact with a human, who did not look happy. "Or I'll crush your skull."
There was a spark of recognition in his eyes which grew wide at the sight of her. Slowly he began to back away before he turned and walked towards the exit. Quinn turned slightly to watch him go, thinking she may have recognized the man, but couldn't tell for sure. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned back to the bar and the filled glass now standing in front of her. The only problem was – it was half full.
"Do you expect me to pay full price for that shit?" she growled and looked up at the redhead who had now gone back to her other customers.
The girl turned to her, now irritation clearly featured on her face. "That's as much as we are told to pour of that particular liquor," she explained, trying to remain polite but failed miserably.
"I'm not paying for a half empty glass."
Whether she was debating if she should call the bouncer or not, the girl grabbed the bottle, leaned over the counter, and poured more of the black alcohol into the glass. The two women eyed one another, and Quinn let her eyes linger longer, showing her dominance before she swept the drink down in one go. The burning sensation down her throat was familiar, welcomed, comfortable and to say at least satisfying. The salty licorice lingered in her mouth long after the burning had subsided and grew sweeter by the second. Already could she feel the alcohol doing its magic and ridding her of all negative emotions and calming her down.
One more would give her the kick needed to endure the presence of those three stuck ups of Alliance dogs. Honestly, she had completely forgotten how obsessive soldiers were in keeping up the law and order at all times. It was truly exhausting and maddening if not totally boring to see John stopping and trying to help every poor little sucker out there who asked for help just because they couldn't get off their asses on their own and do it themselves. Even worse, he foolishly did it for them! He was even trying to find a woman in need in this very bar!
Feeling the frustration coming back, she yelled to the girl; "One more!"
The girl poured up in a new glass before sending it across the counter, spilling some of the liquid as it went. For being a bartender, the girl wasn't that skillful nor graceful as most bartenders Quinn met in the past. About to catch the glass with her waiting hand, it was suddenly stopped by a hand just before it reached her palm.
"One's enough."
Quinn shot her eyes up at her brother. "What the fuck, John!" About to grab the glass from him, he turned the glass over and the precious alcohol splashed the counter.
"Your name is Jenna, right?" He then asked the redheaded girl, ignoring Quinn's fuming face.
The girl who had had a flirty expression as he came up, had now changed to a suspicious one. Hesitantly, she asked; "Why do I get the feeling you're not here to order drinks?"
Leaning over the counter to get a little closer to her, John said; "I need to talk to you about your work with C-Sec."
"I–I don't know what you're talking about." The redheaded girl began to fumble nervously with her hair as she swept a look around her to see if someone had heard, but once she was sure no one had, she turned to walk away from him. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to my customers."
"This isn't a game, Jenna," John declared, his tone serious and with a bit of an edge to it. The girl stopped in her tracks. "These people are dangerous."
The girl turned around, groaning in frustration and rolled her eyes at him. It was amusing to see another person feeling annoyed at her brother, other than just her.
"Now you sound like my sister," the girl said, her tone clearly annoyed and irritated. "Why is everyone so concerned about me? I can take care of myself."
"Clearly," Quinn said, rolling her eyes at the girl's naivety. "Come on, I want another drink." She clapped the counter a couple of times to emphasize.
The girl turned her eyes to her, then back at John with a questioning look and he dared to shake his head in a no. Then she gave out a clear exhale of aggravation as she continued; "I need to go. I'm not a stripper. I don't get paid to stand around and look pretty."
Then the girl walked away to another costumer and Quinn was left without a drink.
"Charming girl," Girly-Scout said, her tone filled with sarcasm.
"I'll talk to her again before we leave."
John turned slightly away from the bar, and that was when Quinn saw her opportunity. Throwing herself over the bar counter, she grabbed the first bottle she could see and poured it into her empty glass. Dropping the bottle, she grabbed the glass and about to drown it when it was snatched out of her hand. Her eyes shot to her brother, who drowned the glass himself.
"Commander!"
"Sir!"
Not sure if she should be surprised, angry, shocked, or amused, she watched him swallow the unknown alcohol before he turned to her, a triumph expression on his face.
"What the fuck, John! That was mine, you ass!" About to rail all over him, she stopped as his expression changed, and he realized it was salty licorice flavored vodka and he was about to gag.
"What the—" He complained as he tried to control his gag reflex and keep the content in his stomach put. With a hand to his mouth, he looked at her horrified. "How can you drink that shit? It's disgusting!"
Quite amused by his little performance, she chuckled a little before telling him; "That was worth not getting it myself. Usually that's why I get to keep it to myself."
John threw her an annoyed glance, then eyed the other two who was also chuckling at his misery.
"Sorry, sir," Girly-Scout said, still trying to contain her amusement.
"That's what you get for drinking on the job, Commander," Pretty-Boy chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, keep it up and I will force feed you one, Lieutenant," John countered.
Pretty-Boy shrugged his shoulders. "I quite like it."
"Good. Then you're paying for it," Quinn said as she pushed herself off of the bar and walked away before he could complain. It was obvious she would not get her hands on another drink for the moment. About to head deeper into the bar to find this Harkin guy, when someone bumped into her shoulder.
"What the—"
"If you've got questions about Jenna, meet me at C-Sec Academy."
Quinn turned to the person, a turian and got up in the man's face, growling at him; "Where I come from, you tell people you're fucking sorry when you bump into someone!"
Suddenly, the man pushed her away from him, slurring like he was drunk as he yelled; "Push off, human! I never did nothing to you." Then he stumbled away, swaying a little as he mumbled to himself something which was all too familiar to the human ear; "Damn newcomers. Think they can run the place."
Quinn looked at the man confused as he walked towards the exit, not really understanding what had happened. The man had clearly said something about coming to C-Sec if she had questions, but then acted like a drunken fool.
"What was that about?" Pretty-Boy asked as he walked up to her.
She threw an eye at the soldier, who genuinely was wondering if she was okay, then she turned away from him and the direction the turian had gone and said in a dismissive tone; "None of your concern."
Her brother and the female soldier were joining them soon after, having missed what had happened. They were looking around the bar, searching for someone who matched the description of being a former C-Sec officer and a drunken fool.
"There's too many people here," Girly-Scout said as she looked around. "It can be anyone."
"Except for the aliens. That rule out at least half," John said.
For such a small bar, there were too many people crowded in there. They had to push their way through people to move further into the back. Most of them had alcohol in their breaths and reeked of it, indicating they had been there for quite some time and it wasn't even past 5 p.m. However, Quinn was used to this as most of her crew spend their spare time in bars. She was also used to men coming up to her and tried their best at flirting with her, after all, she was attractive and hot. Most of them was rewarded by a broken limb if they tried to touch her, or worse if she felt like it. But she could not say the same about Girly-Scout. She was neither attractive nor used to being flirted with by drunken fools. She visually looked uncomfortable and it was amusing to see.
"What a firm piece of ass," a human man slurred as he pressed his hands on the soldier's buttock and tried to squeeze it, not realizing she was wearing armor.
"Don't touch me, you creep!" Girly-Scout twirled around in an instant and punched the man in his stomach with her elbow, resulting in the man doubling over.
"Ouch… What the hell's wrong with you, I was giving you a compliment, you bitch!" The man complained while moaning in pain.
"You touched my ass, you pig!"
"Wow, walk away, man," John said as he stepped in between the two before it could turn any uglier.
The man did as he was told, but Girly-Scout was ready to punch the man again. Then, once the man was out of view, she shivered in disgust.
"Thanks, Commander," she said grateful.
"No problem."
Turning away from the pair, Quinn now saw Pretty-Boy being coaxed and dragged by an asari dancer, who wanted him to come and sit. He politely tried to decline, but it was of no use. These asari knew how to get costumers and their money. Soon, another dancer was trying to get her hands on John as well and he too tried to decline the polite way.
As Quinn neared the back of the bar, she noticed two krogans arguing. One of them was blocking the door to the back and she recognized him immediately. He was the bouncer at Purgatory, and the name was Drood. She was surprised to find him here. The other krogan, she had never seen before. He was wearing a blood red armor, common with krogan mercenaries which was making him stick out from the rest of the crowd, not much different than their party.
"Back off, Wrex," Drood warned the other krogan with a growl loud enough to overpower the music so she could hear them, and which would have most people sent running with their tails tucked between their legs. "Fist told us to take you down if you showed up."
The other krogan didn't even flinch. Instead, he walked closer and challenged him. "What are you waiting for? I'm standing right here." The other krogan got up in Drood's face, his tone dropping. "This is Fist's only chance. If he's smart, he'll take it."
Drood stood his ground as he would do with anyone who would try to pick a fight with him. "He's not coming out, Wrex. End of story," he growled.
The other krogan was about to argue again, but two more human bouncers, or maybe they were hired guards, walked up to Drood, each holding an assault rifle in their hands. This Fist must be up to something shady if the bouncers are prepared to use deadly force to keep people out.
"This story is just beginning," the other krogan snarled before turning to walk off.
Quinn watch on intrigued as the krogan came closer. He had balls and wasn't afraid to show them, yet he knew to choose his battles which was not quite common when it came to krogans. This one must be an old and experience warrior. Maybe a mercenary. He had deep scars across the right side of his face and head.
Feeling her stare, he dropped his glance towards her as they now stood right next to each other. "Out of my way, humans. I have no quarrel with you," he growled and then pushed past her and the trio who had come up behind her.
"What was that all about?" John asked, his tone indicating she had said something to the krogan to upset him.
"Who knows?" Girly-Scout said, not at all interested and a bit apprehensive. "Let's just try not to get caught in the middle." Then she turned to continue looking for Harkin.
Pretty-Boy turned to Quinn and said into her ear; "You really know how to get the wrong people's attention."
She shrugged at that, then said with a satisfied, yet proud tone; "What can I say? Bad boys find me attractive." She turned to look him in the eye, a flirtatious smile crossed her lips as she looked him up and down. "Like most men."
Their eyes locked for a few seconds. His looked confused, then grew nervous and quite uncomfortable and his eyes turned to find something else to look at as he tried to find his words. He was quite cute when he got uncomfortable, and she smiled a genuine smile at that.
"Ahem," there was a loud cough that got their attention. "We're here to do a job – not – whatever – you're trying to do with my Lieutenant." John eyed Quinn with an irritated expression. "Let's get to it."
Pretty-Boy responded immediately by walking off and getting back to finding the drunken C-Sec officer while looking like he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Quinn on the other hand, remained where she stood and rolled her eyes at her brother's warning gaze, he was throwing at her.
"Go, get to it then," she said and shewed him away with her hands before she walked off in the other direction. "I'm gonna say hi to an old friend."
"What?" She heard his surprised respond, but she just kept walking.
Drood took notice of her straight away and a small grin crawled upon those wide lips of his, showing those big and sharp teeth. He showed away the other two bouncers, letting them know she was not there to stir up more trouble.
"Ah, isn't it, Quinn Shepard, my favorite troublemaker!" he said pleased, but then turned suspicious. "I hope you're not here to cause a fight. I would hate to have you thrown out of here too."
"If I remember correctly: you tried to throw me out," she said, a wicked smile on her face. "And you ruined my fun."
"Your "fun" includes five massacred stools, three broken and battered bodies, a crumbled bar counter and a bar filled with C-Sec officers," he snorted. "You got me fired, you know."
"Really?" She asked surprised.
"That's what you get for letting a known fugitive into the bar and trash it. I'm lucky I just lost the job."
"Ah, yeah, well, sorry about that," she said lightly. "I do remember inviting you to join my crew after that and you declined."
"I'm no criminal, Quinn."
"Yeah, I do remember you saying that then too." Then she turned more serious. "What did that other krogan want? What was his name?"
"Is that how you catch up with an old friend?" Drood asked, faking the disappointment in his voice, but soon his business voice took tone. "Work matter. And the name's Wrex."
"Fair enough." Quinn crossed her arms over her breasts and took a firm stance, letting him know she was not going to drop it that easily. "What's back there?" She nodded towards the hall leading back.
He was about to answer more thoroughly, but his attention was caught on something behind him, and he became curt. "The back rooms are private. Reserved for Fist and his friends."
Quinn turned slightly to see the trio at her heels once again, with two of them looking at her with irritation in their eyes. She was growing frustrated at their constant hoovering. Was it really that impossible for her to be without a babysitter for a few minutes? It wasn't like she would go berserk just because she was alone. She knew how to behave – occasionally.
Turning back to the krogan, she said with a frustrated tone; "Ignore them."
"Who's Fist?" John asked and crossed his arms.
Drood looked at John and a scowl escaped him as he replied, "The owner."
"Not really chatty, is he?" Girly-Scout remarked.
The krogan growled at her, before turning to Quinn. "I'm warning you, Quinn, stay out of it."
"And if not?" She challenged, not liking his attitude.
"I don't see no weapons on you."
"I don't need weapons to get through you." Her biotic flared a little to emphasize her point.
"Why do I have a feeling she's looking for a fight?" Pretty-Boy asked from behind.
With a heavy sigh, John answered; "Because she does." Then he walked up to her, grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her away from the krogan. "Let's go, Quinn."
At first, Quinn debated to follow through with the violence she was famous for. The emotions were building up and she needed to release the tension and a fight would certainly help with that, cause the other option was out of the question as long as she had a leach around her neck. But of course, that leach also were restricting her from starting a fight. Maybe it was because of the shot, or the familiar face of someone she knew or maybe even that her mind was in such turmoil that she did not act on it. It was weird. Violence had always been her stress relief but all she could feel was – emotionally exhausted. Although, she was curious about that other krogan in the blood red armor, whose name had already slipped her mind… Damn it.
Turning on her heel, she called over her shoulder with a casual tone as she pushed through the trio; "Fine. I should go anyway. See you around, Drood."
"Enjoy the club…" Drood called from behind her with an uncertain tone. "Not too much, though."
With a slight wave to let him know she had heard him; she rounded the corner with the plan of getting her hands on another shot before John could stop her.
"Hey there, sexy. You looking for some fun?" A drunken male voice purred which made the hair on her arms rise of disgust from the table she just passed. "Cause I gotta say that vigilant getup looks real good on that bod of yours."
She turned slightly to eye the man who seriously needed to work on his pickup lines and a kick in the balls. The human was looking her up and down, imagining what was underneath the light armor and seemed to be about to drool from what he was seeing in his mind. Disgusted by the very though the man must have, she crossed her arms over her breast, both to show him he was crossing the line and covering herself up. That and to keep herself from beating the crap out of the guy.
"Why don't you sit your sweet little ass down beside old Harkin? Have a drink and we'll see where his goes." He patted his thigh in encouragement.
Shivering on the inside at his words, she felt like she desperately needed a shower, but not even with the strongest bleach ever made would never take away the feeling of repulsion his gaze gave her. "I'd rather have acid poured down my throat after chewing on razor blades," she spat venomously dipped in disgust.
He was about to respond, but his attention was diverted to behind her and he got the same creepy tone as he said; "Hi there, sweetheart. You seem to need some fun. 'Cause I gotta say that soldier getup looks real good on that bod of yours." He looked the new woman up and down like had done Quinn.
Quinn turned her head to the woman and found Girly-Scout there with John and Mini-John, looking just as creeped out as she had.
"What's with this bar? Creep central?" Girly-Scout snorted.
Feeling offended the guy had used the same pickup line to a stuck-up, ass-licking soldier scout who was way under her league, she turned to the man, looking at him like he was the most pathetic person in the whole damn galaxy. "Really? That's the only pick-up line you've got? No wonder you get no ass. You're a pathetic excuse of a man."
The man leaned back in his chair, not at all bothered by the comments and spread his legs some more to show off his package. "You're trying to hurt my feelings, sweetheart? You gotta do better than that. After twenty years with C-Sec, I've been called every name in the book, princess."
A flash of fury came upon her at the familiar nickname and before she could even think, she had forcefully grabbed the man's collar, lifted him up and pushed him up against the wall, cutting off his airways and threatened him through clench teeth; "Call me princess again and you'll be picking your fucking teeth up off the floor."
"For fuck sake, Quinn! Let the man go!"
It was barley penetrated the fury that had taken control of her and images of her time spent in the foster home clouded her vision of the man who was struggling and gasping for air, his feature turning blue. Her hold around the man's throat tightened as she saw the face of her foster father's smug grin being turned into a mess of blood and loose teeth.
"He's turning blue!"
A hand seized a strong hold of her wrist and tried desperately to have her release the throat. Pressure was put into her wrist and soon, the pain was penetrating her fury filled mind and had her turn to the owner of the hand and at the same time, her hand was yanked away, and she was pushed backwards with such a force, she almost stumbled and fell on the chair she had knocked over. Another pair of hands saved her from the fall by taking a hold of her shoulders and stabilizing her back on her feet. Looking up at the owner's face who had caught her, she saw a small innocent smile on the man who she never seemed to remember the name of.
Confused at what had happened, she turned from the man still holding a hand on her shoulder to the person who she had almost strangled and then up at John, who was looking at her like a wild animal who needed to be contained or maybe even put down.
"You crazy?!" The guy shouted, holding his hand to his throat which had been close to be crushed. "I should have you arrested! Call C-Sec!"
John turned to the man and asked, with frustration clear in his tone; "Harkin, right?" He took a step between them to create a barrier.
Still trying to catch his breath, exaggerating while doing so, he could clearly see they weren't just civilians. "Alliance military. Hmph." He stated, taking a hold of the chair, flipping it over and sitting back down on it. "I coulda been a marine you know. Instead, I joined the goddamned Citadel Security. Biggest mistake of my life." Occasionally, he rubbed his sore throat, but that was not the reason for the judgement in his tone and the blame he was putting on anyone but himself.
"I was told you could help me find someone," John said, crossing his arms and ignoring the desperate attempt of sympathy the man was craving. "A turian C-Sec officer named Garrus."
"Garrus? Ha!" The man exclaimed like it was the most ridiculous question he ever heard. "You must be one of Captain Anderson's crew." He leaned further back in the chair and place one of his feet up on the other thigh and a satisfied smile crossed his lips. "Poor bastard's still trying to bring Saren down, eh?" He turned to look at one of the asari dancers which was walking past them. "I know where Garrus is. But you gotta tell me something first." He turned to John. "Did the Captain let you in on his big secret?"
Quinn pushed her way passed John and walked up to the man, a finger pointed right next to his eye and said with an edge in her tone; "Just tell us where Garrus is before this gets ugly."
The former C-Sec officer wasn't fazed by her little threat, knowing that the soldiers behind her wouldn't let her act on it. One of them even pulled her away from him and a taunting smile was pasted on his face. "But it's all related, miss pirate. Don't you see?" Her eyes narrowed at his mocking tone. "Yeah, I know who you are."
Quinn crossed her arms. "Yeah? Why should I care about that?"
He leaned forward in the chair. "You may have the Alliance at your back for now, but there are plenty of people on the Citadel who would like a piece of that ass, sweetheart."
"I can imagine," she snarled, knowing full well there were not only C-Sec who wanted to see her dead or locked up.
"Is there something I should know about the Captain?" John asked and crossed his arms over his chest.
Harkin put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair once more, satisfied with the question. "The Captain used to be a Spectre," he announced like it was the news of the century. "Didn't know that, did you? It was all very hush-hush. The first human ever given that honor. And then he blew it." He shook his head. "Screwed up his mission so bad they kicked him out. Of course, he blamed Saren. Says the turian set him up."
"Why'd they kick him out?"
Harkin shrugged his shoulders. "Have to ask him. I never heard of any details. Bet it's a good story, though. The hero's fall. Classic tragedy. Ha!"
"You said they covered all this up. How did you hear about it?" Girly-Scout asked with a skeptical tone of voice.
The man removed his arms from the back of his head and turned to her. "I spent twenty years working cases here on the Citadel. People on this station love to talk. Secrets are like herpes. If you got 'em you might as well spread 'em around."
"Why should we believe a drunk like you?" Pretty-Boy asked, his arms crossing over his chest.
"Fine. Ask Anderson," Harkin said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I bet he tells you. He's too stupid and proud to lie right to your face."
Finally having enough of this pointless chit-chatter, Quinn took a hold of John's pistol and pulled it out of its hoister and pointed it at Harkin's forehead, knowing that would be enough motivation to have him answer.
"You get one more chance; tell us where Garrus is. Now!"
The former C-Sec officer shot his arms up and nearly fell out of the chair when the reflex of getting away took a hold. "Hey, easy there!"
John turned to her immediately and his hands went for the empty hoister on his hip and yelled; "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Oh, shut the fuck up. He's stalling, can't you see that?" She answered while never taking her eyes off of the former officer.
John turned fully towards her. "It still doesn't excuse you trying to kill people the first chance you get! They can't answer questions if they're dead!"
She couldn't help but roll her eyes and scoff at him. "When are you gonna get playing the nice guy won't get you results?"
"Killing people won't solve anything."
"Who said I was gonna kill him?" She turned her eyes to the pathetic excuse of an officer who tried to squirm out of the chair. "A hole in the shoulder, or maybe the foot will have him walking out of here and to the hospital without problems. If he dies on the way, it's on him." She pressed a little on the trigger to show she was serious.
"Okay, okay. Just settle down!" Harkin held up his hands in surrender. "I'll tell ya."
A dark energy grabbed a hold of the pistol in her hands and yanked it out of them before something hard struck her cheek. The force had her fall to the floor with a heavy thud and if her reflexes hadn't brought up her hands, she would have fallen flat on the floor. At first, she was a little stunned at what had happened, but then a familiar coopery taste entered her mouth and she turned to the man who had struck her with a venomous stare that could kill.
John was looking down at her with his hand still tight in a fist. "I've had enough of your shit!" he yelled at the top of his lungs which overpowered the music and had people turn to look at what was going on. "I'm not gonna repeat myself again; we don't threaten people! If you can't behave, go back to the ship!"
Never taking her death stare off her brother, Quinn's fingers found its way up to the left side of her lips. It stung as she wiped the blood off, then her eyes turned to the fingers with the crimson red liquid which stood out from her black armored gloves. Judging by the amount of blood on the fingers it would most defiantly be a permanent scar. However, instead of getting angry at her brother, he actually earned a teeny-tiny amount of respect.
Ignoring the sermon of morality and consequences he was giving her, she calmly pushed herself off the floor and stood up. "If you want to waste time on this worthless piece of shit, then fine, you stay here and try get information out of him the heroic way," she said calmly. "I'm gonna go find Saren my own way." She turned to walk, but a hand grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"You're not going anywhere on your own if you don't want to end up in a cell," John said sternly.
She turned her head to stare him straight into the eyes. "You're not the boss of me, John. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will." She freed herself brutally and kept her cold stare on him.
"If you step out of here without any of us, you're done."
"Well, that's my problem, right?"
She walked off towards the exit, having all eyes on her. Both customers and employees had warily watched the commotion, expecting it to go dire as it often did in there. But as she moved, they quickly went back to their own business like it was just any other day. She had to vigorously push her way through as they weren't fast enough to get out of her way. Damn drunks! Once she was out of the bar, she thought of what to do next. The drunken fool Harkin was their only lead to get Garrus possible location, who by the way might or might not know anything useful about Saren or his whereabouts. Instead, she should go for another lead. Hadn't Anderson and that Ambassador said something about an informant of the Shadow Broker somewhere on the Presidium?
Decided, she walked off to the cab station.
Soon, footsteps followed and got closer. "Hey, Quinn, wait up!"
Recognizing the voice, she turned around and found Pretty-Boy walking towards her. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she said in a cold tone; "If you're here to force me back in there, I will crush your kneecaps and leave you on the ground for John to find."
"No, no. I'm not," he said as he came to a stop in front of her and his arms up in surrender. "The Commander thought it best I came with you."
"You tell John I don't need a babysitter," she said and turned to the cab station and ordered a space car, which would be there shortly.
"I'm just here to make sure you don't get arrested. We still need you," he said honestly and with a voice most women would see as charming and a smile which came along with it.
She turned an eye at him for a few seconds to try and read the man's intentions. It was clear he admired and looked up to John the idiot and would listen to his commander's instructions. Would John really allow her to go off without him as long as this guy was holding the leash? She had to admit, at least this guy was better than Girly-Scout who would have kept a tighter leash than John had.
"Fine," she said as the flying vehicle came to a stop next to the cab station. "Then you can pay for the cab."
**Ashley's POV
The bar had resumed to drinking, seducing, and watching the pathetic asari dancers shake their asses off for a few credits like nothing had happened. As soon as the pirate had left the bar, the tension in the air vanished and people relaxed once more. Even the Commander had relaxed some for a few seconds before he had grown anxious once more.
"Alenko," Shepard said before turning to the Lieutenant. "I need you to go with Quinn and keep her out of trouble."
At first, the Lieutenant was hesitant, but then nodded in acknowledgement and said with a sure tone; "Of course, Commander."
"You contact me immediately if she gets into any mischiefs or cause problems!" he said firmly.
Lieutenant Alenko nodded again and tried to reassure the Commander by saying; "Don't worry, I will watch her," then walked off towards the exit to catch up with the pirate who couldn't have gotten far.
Ashley turned to watch him go, not understanding how he could so easily accept the order, knowing full well the pirate would cause problems. Of course, she would have followed through with a direct command if she had been told, but she would also gladly see the pirate be arrested and taken to custody just to get rid of the endless trouble the pirate was bringing with her. Not only was she compromising the mission, but she was also taking a toll on the people around her, the Commander in particular and it was hard to watch him struggle because of a sister who had no dignity nor loyalty at all.
They may have managed to persuade the C-Sec Executor to not arrest the pirate for as long as the pirate was collaborating with the Alliance and the investigation against Saren, but that had been with the strict condition of her not causing any trouble whatsoever nor walking off alone. All of them had known from the very start the pirate would not uphold these conditions. After all, she was a criminal and would act like one no matter who was holding the cuffs. That was one of the many reasons why the pirate had not been allowed bringing any weapons and the block on her credit cards. It would restrict her and make her depended on them.
"Why would the Alliance work with a known pirate?" Harkin asked with a condescending tone as he watched the Lieutenant exit the bar, while flagging down a bartender to have her bring him a drink. "I thought they had more honor and pride than that."
The man did not need another drink, she could already smell the alcohol on his breathe and she was keeping a distinct distance from him. "None of your business," Ashley scoffed at the repulsing excuse of a man.
Harkin turned his eyes on her, and she did not miss his eyes wondering all over her as he asked skeptically; "Oh yeah? You mean to tell me Captain Anderson signed off on this?"
"How well do you know Captain Anderson?" The Commander asked, still trying to sound civil after everything that had happened. Ashley figured he felt guilty for what his sister had done to the man, although he most definitely shouldn't. For once, she was actually glad the pirate had acted the way she had when it came to this man. The only regret Ashley had was that she did not swing a punch at him herself.
"Met him a few times over the years. One of those hard-core military guys. "Yes, sir! No, sir! Can't have any fun with a stick up your ass, sir!" That's probably why he climbed the Alliance ranks so fast. The military loves brown-nosers."
"The captain's a good soldier," Shepard defended firmly, taking offence of the man's words.
A female server, who was wearing too revealing clothes, pushed past Ashley to serve the man his drink he'd ordered. The woman placed it on the table as she bended, showing off her cleavage which was leaving nothing to the imagination. Harkin smiled at the woman and grabbed his drink and raised it to her before taking a sip. The woman turned gracefully and laid her eyes on Shepard before slipping past him with a hand gracing his chest and shoulder. Ashley couldn't help but to throw the woman a murderous stare, which had the woman send packing. They were on duty; couldn't the woman tell that? And the Commander would never stoop so low in have anything to do with a dirty stripper like her! Or would he?
"Sure. Whatever," Harkin said after putting his glass down on the table. "Dress him up in a fancy suit, pin some shiny medals on his chest, and call him a hero. Everybody else does." The man shook his head. He had no respect for the Captain at all and that was pissing Ashley off. "But if he's so great, why'd the Spectres kick him out? Why don't you go ask him about that?"
Who was he to talk about Captain Anderson like that? This man had lost his job by drinking on the job. "Cause your work in C-Sec where so much more honorable," Ashley commented.
"What the hell do you know?" The man snapped at her. "Working for C-Sec isn't like being a marine. People get pissed off it we shoot somebody. Investigations, inquiries, rules, regulations. Every day I plow through red tape to choke a rhino. That's how you gotta be to do this job. So don't talk to me about right and wrong. You soldiers got it easy."
"What's it like working for C-Sec?" Shepard asked curious.
"You mean what was it like. The executor suspended me without pay – recurring violations. C-Sec was keeping a file on me. Can you believe that? Every mistake I ever made went into the books. Get a little rough with a suspect, note in the file. Have a couple of drinks on duty, note in the file. Skim a couple of credits off a drug-bust, note in the file. It's a goddamned witch hunt."
"You got off easy, if you ask me." The man scoffed at that. The Commander was rubbing his forehead, looking irritated and tired. "My patience is wearing really thin. Tell me about Garrus,"
"Damn hothead is what he is. Still figures he can save the world. Always bucking heads with the executor. He'll pay for it soon enough. The executor loves to put us lowly field agents in our place. Just look at what happened to me."
"You need to look in a mirror. Sober up and take some responsibility for yourself!"
"Save your sermons. This ain't no church," he scoffed angry before taking a mouthful of his drink, letting them stew for a few more seconds, then said; "Garrus was sniffing around Dr. Michel's office. She runs the med clinic on the other side of the wards. Last I heard, he was going back there."
"Let's go," Shepard said and turned to leave, which Ashley was glad for. She couldn't stand this club for one more second!
"Yeah. Good. Let me drink in peace," the man said behind them, sounding like it was he who had dismissed them.
Once they had exited the club and the door shut, it was almost like they had gone under water. The beat of the base still pounded through the walls, but the melody in the music had almost vanished. Although Ashley occasionally went out for a few drinks on her shore leaves, this was not her type of music and would thank God if she would never have to enter this bar again!
They headed for the Wards.
"Why didn't Captain Anderson tell us he used to be a Spectre?" Ashley asked the question which had been on her mind ever since Harkin had told them about it.
"Maybe it's not true," Shepard said indifferently. "Harkin's clearly an ass. He's just messing with our heads."
"You're probably right," she agreed. "Still, I'd like to hear what the Captain has to say about all this."
"Yeah," Shepard agreed.
Thank you for reading!
Hoped you liked Ashley's little POV. It was a bit of an experiment.
Thanks for the fave, reviews and for following if you've done that, otherwise, please do!
If there is something I've missed, gotten wrong or anything, please tell me so I can fix it!
And for the teaser this time...
He could at least say that so far, her mood had been more in control then when she was around the Commander and he was thankful for that at least.
"How old were you when your biotic manifested?" He asked, changing the question once more.
"Nine," she said simply.
"That young, huh? How did it happen?"