Two days later, Shepard services Harrot the Elcor. His voice is painful enough, but not the worst part. The Elcor dick is bigger than a Krogan's. Enough to make her tear and bleed like a virgin as she straddles it, rocking against the head. She bites her lip at each movement, making the appropriate moans.
After a certain point, the pain merges with faint, faint pleasure. The sounds become a little more genuine. But the most genuine sound of all is the disgusted noise she can't stop when he comes. It is a fucking mess. Shepard dismounts, wincing at the pain and the state of her dress.
"Apathetic. Clean yourself up." He tells her and leaves the bedroom. She mutters thanks to Zaeed for the medi-gels he gives her. They take care of the worst ruptures. Still hurts like hell. Once she can walk, she gets out of there.
Harrot lives in a nice-ish area. Nothing as good as what the Asari live in. Good enough that she doesn't start looking over her shoulder till she passes back into her part of the station. After all these years, the shadows still get more sinister for her in the back streets.
An injured person on Omega is like a wounded pyjack. A predator always appears to pick it off. Shepard keeps her pace slow in the dark alleyways to keep from betraying her limp. It's a waste—she hears footsteps behind her. Fists curled, she whips around to face the would-be attacker.
It's the Turian.
"Well shit. You're still alive."
He's got humor enough to chuckle. "I'm flattered I think? Ah…are you alright?"
"Fine," she says. Then, to test him, "Tough night of work. You know how it is."
"I have an idea." The Turian closes the space between him. He's tall like other Turians but he's got that innocent look about him. It's evident in the open posture and the solicitous hand he puts on her arm. The touch makes her jump. "This is probably intrusive and nosy, but I could carry you. If you want. No pressure."
"Yeah, little intrusive." The last thing she needs is to be seen carried by the naïve vigilante. "You can sit with me for a bit." She eases herself against the alley wall and onto the ground. "No charge."
He lifts the ridges over his eyes.
"That was a joke. We hookers tell 'em every so often."
"I…knew that." He sits beside her. "That it was a joke. Not that…well anyway, I'm Garrus."
"Shepard," she says. His flustered demeanor is a little cute. Just a little. "Garrus is a good name. Not a good vigilante title though."
His mandibles flare. "Who said I was a vigilate?"
"You kinda scream it." She motions to the gleaming sniper rifle. It's better-looking than most of her clients.
He laughs again, the noise so soft that it sounds like a purr in his rumbling voice. "So what would you suggest for my title then?"
It's the second time he's popped up like the Guardian Angel she mentioned. "Angel" isn't an intimidating moniker though. More like the probable name of a human stripper in Afterlife.
She remembers one of those Earth missionaries being really into stories about angels. Some days she would go to the Mission just to hear him weave tales (and for the free food). There was one about the end of the world and a head angel bringing justice. Or maybe that was the one about the Virgin and the baby. She can't remember where the word itself came from, just that it's kinda badass.
"Archangel," she tells him.
"Archangel," he repeats. "It doesn't translate very well. A leader spirit?"
"Leader angel. He leads other angels and brings down justice and righteousness." That part's a little improvised. He'll probably never find out the difference. The Mission lasted a month before the Batarians torched it and the survivors fled Omega.
"Archangel. I could like that."
"I'd be offended if you didn't."
"Another joke?" He glances at her.
"No," she stands, punching his shoulder on the way up. He flinches like it hurts through the blue armor. "If I don't hear the name Archangel whispered in the streets, I'll be pissed and kick your ass. Got it?"
Garrus stands too and salutes. "Orders received, Shepard. It's a promise."
Shepard has a biweekly appointment with an Asari commando associated with Eclipse. She'd rather not service the Mercs but she'd also rather not service an Elcor either. Money's got to be made. The best she can do is refuse Blood Pack and make sure the few good ones want to be regulars.
The Asari, a matriach named Kela, likes to put Shepard over her knee and spank her. Sometimes she gets Shepard off, sometimes Shepard gets her off. The sex doesn't matter to Kela as much as putting on her leathers and slapping the hooker's ass raw.
Most times she's considerate enough to let Shepard lie down after, letting the medi-gels soothe the stinging flesh. This night though, after the session, she takes Shepard's meds from her and tells her to balance on her hands and knees. Her dress is still bunched up around her waist, ass hanging out in the cold.
"Don't move till I tell you," Kela commands and strides out of the room. Shepard knows people who get off from being submissive. Not her. At least Kela knows her well enough that she doesn't care when Shepard slips and tells her to fuck off.
It's tempting to do it now as she stays still on Kela's clean, chrome floor. There are hookers on Omega better at the submissive play. She's not sure why the Asari keeps hiring her. Other than her talent for taking hard smacks to the ass. It wasn't hers to question. Just to service and collect.
"Damnit!" She hears Kela from the other room. "We need to get him out of here before he stirs up more trouble."
Shepard strains to listen. Kela's got the comm. link turned down low. The other person's voice is too soft for her ears.
"Archangel already has two lackeys. Run them out or kill them before they do some actual damage."
"I'll be damned," Shepard mutters.
Kela reemerges, medi-gels in hand. Shepard sighs, ready for the session to be over with. As if reading her thoughts, the Asari quashes the hope by bringing her hand down on Shepard's backside. "Were you eavesdropping?"
"No," Shepard hisses. It's worse when the skin is already burning from the past half hour.
"Are you lying to me?" The hand comes down again.
"No!"
The Asari works her fingers into Shepard and keeps up the interrogation. If she really thought the Human a threat, Kela wouldn't be bringing her to orgasm. Shepard still refuses to admit anything, even to play along. She's seen Kela's gun collection.
Shepard won't say she prefers a certain species for a client. But she will say that at least the Asari know where the clitoris is.
After the session with Kela, Shepard takes a detour to Afterlife. The bouncer's one of her clients, a Batarian who spends more time washing himself before and after sex with her than actually having sex with her. He lets her pass without meeting her eyes.
The club's lower level is more to her taste. The upper is for transients and newcomers. Tourists, if Omega has such a thing. She makes for the stairs when one of the newcomers leaning at the bar catches her eye.
Shepard moves to him, noticing a Batarian and a Turian hovering close. The lackeys Kela mentioned. She raises her voice over the din and taps his shoulder. "Buy you a drink?"
His lackeys tense, ready to drive her off. Maybe they should. It's pretty stupid to befriend a wannabe-vigilante. She hopes he has the sense to go helmeted when bringing justice or he's not going to make it out of Afterlife alive.
"Shepard!" He relaxes as he looks her over. "Good to see you."
"What's a nice Turian like you doing in a place like this?" She puts a hand on her cocked hip, grinning at the cheesy line.
"Oh you know, got called to…talk to someone." His eyes flicker to where Aria T'loak holds court above the main floor. Shepard's not surprised. Aria doles out reminders to anyone she thinks is getting ambitious.
"Did it go well?" She leans in so she can stop shouting. "Did she tell you Omega's one rule?"
"Oh yes, she did." Garrus nods and steps in closer. They've earned the steady concentration of both his lackeys with their bodies an inch apart and Garrus' mouth by her ear. "She's got nothing to worry about from me. I know an Omega without Aria is a whole lot worse than an Omega with her."
"Also," she says, shivering at the low voice so close. "She would end you."
"So you've met her?"
"Not yet." Shepard steps back, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms as an excuse. Zaeed had plenty of times and he always related the stories with great embellishment. "But I will once I get a nice enough body count."
"Joke?"
"Maybe. You want that drink?" Shepard steps around him to place her elbows on the counter. The dress hitches up her thighs as she leans forward. "I'll buy for your friends too."
Garrus glances at his lackeys. "Sidonis? Erash?"
The Batarian, Erash, declines. He's fixing a look at Shepard that's half-suspicion, half-disgust. Sidonis mirrors Garrus' Turian smile and accepts the dextro cocktail. He's genial and handsome enough. Shepard just finds Garrus more compelling as he shifts from sweet to shy to intense to humorous. If she was just a girl looking to be picked up, she could do a lot worse. Shame things aren't that simple.
"I heard your name whispered today," she tells him. "Your other name."
"Yeah?" Garrus looked pleased. She'll have to find out what he's been up to. "Guess this mean you won't have to kick my ass."
"Give it time," she chuckles.