Welcome to chapter two. Kol will be introduced in this chapter, so enjoy! I apologize for the short length of the first two chapters – I'm trying to get the story established and then will work on lengthening the chapters.
I don't own or claim to own Mass Effect 1, 2 or any part of it.
I leant on the counter, elbows planted firmly on the gritty surface.
Business today had been slow. Painfully slow. Normally there was at least a merc or two who dropped by to pick up something but not even a lowly Vorcha had come by.
Harrot would be pissed.
I sighed loudly and shifted my weight from foot to foot, staring out at the people wandering by, envying their freedom to wander around Omega like they had nothing better to do.
That's a good way to get shot, Harrot always said. But Harrot was a grouchy prick and was always looking to put someone down. No room for sunshine in Ye Olde Harrot's World.
I swung my leg back and forth, kicking the counter in front of me. Something clattered behind me and I turned, bending over to pick it up. Grabbing the chunk of metal, I wiggled my ass, dancing for no reason other than that I could.
"Well, that's a fine behind to be shaking down there. Shouldn't you be up in Afterlife?" came a purring voice.
I yelped and jerked upright, my head slamming into the shelf above me. "OH, FUCK!" I bellowed, throwing the metal onto the floor and clutching my head. Tears leaked from my eyes, the pain a steady throbbing
There was a bark of laughter, followed by, "Shit, I didn't mean to scare you!"
I whirled around, tears streaming down my face and screeched, "Then why did you do it?"
Standing there with a look of shock on his face was a Turian, handsome as far as they go. He was one of those funny 'white' ones, black face paint spreading out from the centre of his face. He wore the trademark armour of the Blue Suns, something I noted with much distaste in between swearing quietly to myself.
"Bloody hell," he yelped, "I said I was sorry! It's not my fault you're jumpy!" I scowled at him and shook my head, wiping the tears off my face. "Yeah, I bet you are." I snapped, shooting him a foul look.
I pressed my hand to the back of my head and removed it quickly. Blood?
No blood.
With a sigh of relief, I turned back to the idiot merc at the counter, "So, what do you want?"
He folded his arms, an expression of amusement and annoyance on his cute face.
Ack, did I say cute? I meant stupid, stupid, STUPID.
His mandibles flared in amusement as I blushed and he planted both hands on the counter, leaning in close, "How about I take you out for a drink sweetheart?" He cooed, "As an apology for making you smack that pretty little head."
I gaped at him. Was this Turian asking me out on a date? After he scared the bejeebus out of me? Boy, this guy was crazier than half the hyperactive Salarians I knew.
Oh yeah, word to the wise – never, ever go on a date with a Salarian. It'll go reeeeally quickly and before you know it, they've gone home jabbering on about science. True story, happened to a friend of mine.
I sniffed daintily and folded my arms, "Why should I even say yes to that?"
The Turian blinked. "Uh.." he began, rubbing the back of his head. He dropped his arms down and folded them, trying to pull of some kind of masculine pose. "Because I'm a tough merc, baby." He wiggled his mandibles in a way that I guess was supposed to be alluring.
My jaw dropped. Was this guy serious?
Laughter bubbled up in my throat and I snorted, breaking out into gales of hysteria.
L O S E R.