Title: Mass Effect Two Chapter Three
Author: DinkyMew and JagesPages
Game: Mass Effect (Two)
Disclaimer: Bioware own all content and characters related to the Mass Effect franchise. Abigail Shepard is my own creation inspired by the character of Jane Shepard created by Bioware. Any original characters contained herein are my own creations (with the exception of Vindex Foster who is the sole property of Julie Jones and the Swagger Vasa Chronicles) and are not necessarily affiliated with Bioware. **You may not copy, edit or distribute this fanfiction as it stands without my expressed permission – thank you**
"Damned"
Hobbs watched her carefully, but her expression was unreadable even with his skills of careful interpretation he couldn't decipher intent from her cool gaze.
"I assure you, you have made the right choice Operative Hobbins." Miranda said, her voice was clipped and polite and it got right under his skin "Cerberus thanks you for your cooperation and for working with us."
"I'm not working with you." He said heatedly, tempering his anger as he watched them at last unload his most precious cargo "Let's get that clear. I know my colours. I don't work with terrorists."
At that she smiled, soft, full red lips curving as she nodded "I understand your hesitation," She said simply "but Cerberus has no intention of harming Commander Shepard. Our motivations you will find are completely altruistic in this matter, we simply want to help bring Humanity's figurehead back to her rightful place."
He swallowed, watching as the coffin disappeared behind heavy doors feeling like he had suddenly lost gravity "You turn her into an abomination I swear I will come back and hunt every last fucking Cerberus agent down." He said, and there was no lie in his words.
"Our goal is to revive Shepard." Miranda said patiently "We don't intend on changing her in any way unnecessarily, you can put your mind at ease." She looked behind her "Now, if that is all I want to thank you again Operative Hobbins, but as you can see my work has to be started immediately."
He reached for her as she turned to leave, grabbing the shoulder of her armour and turning her so he could tower over her, his face inches from hers – so close she could feel the vibrations of his anger as he glared into her eyes "Don't fuck me around." He warned "You said you can bring her back, that means I'm taking a chance in trusting you – the minute I hear otherwise you had better start running."
She hesitated; her eyes watching his carefully and Hobbs didn't even have to search to see the fear creep over her face as she nodded slowly "You'll be kept informed of our progress." She said weakly "Success or failure – we'll be in touch."
Hobbs shouldered his duffel pulling his cap over his eyes further as he shirked his hooded top, sinking further into it he spat blood to the ground. His ribs were killing him, but he had won the bout which was the important thing and if he managed to get rest somewhere he could probably avoid going by a free clinic, he had seen enough of them in the last few weeks to last a lifetime.
Instinctively he dipped his chin to his chest, his teeth catching the chain around his neck as he chewed on it idly stopping to glance in a restaurant window. He was starving, his stomach growling angrily but he resisted, he had to find somewhere to rest and he needed the last of his credits for that.
He turned, his bandaged hand coming to the chain still held in his teeth as he glanced around the slums. Omega was the lowest of the low, but it was also the easiest place to find fights and earn quick cash – and the alliance avoided it like the plague which appealed to him more and more these days. He fingered the dog tags hanging on the chain closing his eyes over Shepard's one; he had removed them the day he handed her to Cerberus – the day he had cut all ties with himself in desperation and blind hope.
He had promised them he would hunt them down; and now almost a year later and still no news he was in no position to hold true to his word. The Alliance were always a step behind him, and he knew it was the brig he was facing if they caught him – maybe even capital punishment – and while part of him longed for it he knew Shepard would kick his ass if he were to hand himself willingly to a death sentence.
He tucked the tags back inside his jersey, jerking the tip of his cap down as he turned to move. It was then he saw the old Alliance recruitment poster – her face smiling seductively at him from the grimy film and he closed his eyes remembering her look of disdain as she had showed him the same picture in the hospital – remembering how much she hated it and they had laughed and he had secretly carried a folded copy in his combats everywhere with him.
He slid his gaze over to the next storefront where a woman sat pressed to the glass almost. She smiled, giving him a coy wave and he frowned, glancing behind him before he headed to the door of the establishment.
"That's… that's a lot more than I usually ask for my girls." The bar owner eyed him suspiciously, his balding head glinting under the bar lights as he screwed one eye shut and stood on the balls of his feet to look closer at Hobbs.
"You're not planning on stealin' her are you?" He asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"I have particular tastes." Hobbs said off-handedly "That amount should buy me a decent amount of time and any girl I choose right?" He kept his gaze carefully hardened as he met the smaller man's brown eyes.
"You have one in mind?" He asked, taking a step back and smoothing his hands over his long moustache "My girls are all clean mind you – they're tested daily."
"That one." He didn't even need to look at the others, the girl he had in mind had been sitting in the window of the establishment and as he pointed a long finger in her direction the bar owners face split into a gruesome toothless smile.
"Illia," He informed Hobbs who shrugged; her name didn't matter "She's seen a lot of business these past few weeks. It's that new hair-do of hers I figure." The owner nodded "Modelled her after that Alliance campaign poster… you seen it?"
Hobbs stuffed a hand into his jeans, the other adjusting the weight of the duffel over his shoulder "So are we trading or not?" He fought hard to control his temper as exhaustion crept in at his edges. He crushed his eyes closed, pressing the pad of his thumb to the bridge of his nose.
With a snap of his fingers and a whistle the bar owner called the girl over. She sauntered to his side, giving Hobbs a cautionary glance up and down but he wouldn't meet her eyes, instead he looked at the man carefully.
"How long?" Hobbs asked and the bar owner shrugged.
"That amount of credits? You're good for… say three hours with Illia?"
"Three hours!" She crooned, and then she did reach for him, running a hand down his arm "You have big plans I see." She grinned and he swallowed the lump in his chest as she turned, catching his fingers and leading him behind her into one of the side rooms.
He shrugged off his duffel bag, taking a quick inventory. The room was small – in the far corner there was an unmade double bed, the sheets still twisted and ruffled from the last occupants and he grimaced. Turning he watched her close and lock the door before she turned to him. Straight to business she marched to him, tugging his vest from his jeans eagerly and he shook his head, batting her hands from him.
"Take your clothes off." He said firmly turning from her and pulling his duffel bag open.
"Ok." She said, and went about removing the shorts and vest-top she wore. When he turned back to her she was standing naked, her hand on her hip, waves of dark hair falling over her shoulders and covering her breasts.
He moved past her and she deflated huffing at his apparent disinterest as he stripped the sheets from the bed, replacing it with the blanket he carried in his duffel for when he slept rough. It just stretched to the edges of the bed and no more and then he faced her, his brow creasing to a frown.
She tried again, moving to him and this time he let her slide his hooded jacket from him, lift his vest over his head and her eyes roved over his skin taking inventory of the scars and bruises that were still fading.
"You must be military." She smiled, taking note of the dog tags still around his neck, she smiled, pressing cool practiced lips to his shoulder and he shrugged her off, she pouted playfully and he closed his eyes swallowing the sudden flare of anger he felt – not at the girl but at himself "Who's Abigail Shepard?" She asked suddenly and he froze, his eyes opening and looking to her as she played with the dog tags around his neck.
"None of your business." He said gruffly "I didn't pay you to talk."
"Really?" She smiled "What did you pay me for?"
He moved away from her, back to his duffel bag retrieving an item of clothing he tossed it to her. "Put that on and get in the bed." He ordered and he heard her make a noise, a slight catch of breath that let him know she wasn't happy about it; but he didn't care.
She obeyed, sliding down over the blanket watching him expectantly.
"Spread your legs." He ordered, careful not to look at her face as he knelt on the bed between her knees. Carefully he pressed his head to her abdomen, buried under the thick wool of his red sweater and the contact seemed to drain the energy from him as he sank on top of her, curling one of her legs around his hip he turned into her his head resting comfortably at her sternum.
She waited a moment, waited for him to do something and then she sighed "What are you doing?" She asked.
"Shhh." He muttered, "I told you I didn't pay you to talk."
"Yeah." She bit off "So what am I being paid for?"
"Just hold me." He said weakly "don't talk. I just… I need to sleep. And I need it to be dreamless." The words left him ragged and hollowed, but as he closed his eyes and tears sank into the sweater he could almost pretend… almost…
"Hard day?" Her voice was soft and gentle, coaxing but not direct enough to be irritating, he moved in her arms, breathing in the scent of her through his sweater.
"Better now." He smiled and her hands slid into his hair, twirling it between her fingers, nails dragging against the skin of his scalp, up the back of his neck making him shiver. He held onto her, and the tears came silently as he buried his face in the wool – listened to her heart and her breath coming and going and wished for all the world it could be real.
"I'm so sorry." He wept, and she shushed him gently, cool fingers holding his head to her "I'm so sorry Tempy."
When Hobbs woke the girl was gone but he wasn't alone.
As his eyes fluttered open he wasn't surprised to see the still, patient figure of a man sitting on a wooden chair across the other side of the room. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, pushing himself to his elbows as he met the man's look.
"Morning sunshine." The agent smiled, green eyes flashing from under a trail of blonde fringe "Sleep well?"
Hobbs returned the smile, banking onto his side as he stretched "Now I know the Alliance is scraping the bottom of the barrel." He said stiffly "Where's my sweater?"
His ease and manner had the agent caught off guard and Hobbs smiled placidly as the man's features muddled momentarily before he frowned confused "What sweater?"
"The girl that was in here." Hobbs clarified "She had my sweater on. I want it back."
The agent shook his head lightly, making a steeple with his fingers as he leaned forward in the chair "What exactly do you think is going to happen here Operative Hobbins?" He asked icily and Hobbs rolled a shoulder.
"Why don't you fill me in Patterson." He sighed and the use of the man's name had the desired effect; he looked sharply at Hobbs, his eyes narrowing – they had known each other at one time, Hobbs trained alongside him when he was assigned as squad leader – when he had been the one doing the hunting.
"I'm taking you back to the Alliance." Patterson said simply "Don't try to fight Hobbs, there is a shoot to kill order in effect – and I really don't want to shoot you." He smiled "I hate getting blood on my suit."
Hobbs nodded slowly giving his suit a once over. It was black, the cuffs and breast seam laced with a bright gold – it looked smart he supposed, but he didn't like the suits much, he seemed to have old fashioned tastes when it came to clothing.
"It is a nice suit." He agreed nonchalantly and the agent almost preened – almost took the bait – but almost was all Hobbs needed.
As Patterson's eyes ticked downward Hobbs launched the pillow he was lying on with brute force – the heavy sack barrelled into the agent on the wooden chair momentarily stunning him – that was ten extra seconds for Hobbs as he snapped out of the bed and was beside the man in five.
Recovering Patterson reached for his gun, getting to his feet and Hobbs intercepted him – blocking his attempt to retrieve his weapon, snapping the thermal clip from the chamber in a swift and smooth movement Patterson didn't even see. Patterson lumbered a fist at Hobb's face but he was too slow – and Hobb's too practised – he saw it coming a mile off and slapped it out of the way, using the man's momentum to turn him simultaneously sweeping his feet from under him.
Patterson went down hard, clattering against the floor and chair, already scrambling to get up when Hobbs straddled him – he could end it here, it could be quick, painless and it would be one less agent after him – but he resisted instead pulling a punch to the man's face knocking him cold with one hit.
Slowly he got to his feet, dragging the unconscious agent to the bed and heaving him onto the mattress. As quick as he could he gathered his blanket back into his duffel and dressed himself again – agents always came in twos he knew that well enough over the last year.
Swinging the duffel over his shoulder he moved to the door, pausing to make sure the man was breathing. Reassured that he was just out cold Hobbs breathed a sigh of relief – he had never liked Patterson, but the man was just doing his job, and so long as they sent these deadbeat agents he had nothing to worry about.
Stepping back into the establishment the bar owner looked at him fearfully, raising podgy hands as he passed.
"I never let him in." He said quickly and Hobbs ignored him, marching to the window where the woman was still sitting in his red sweater.
She turned to him, large brown eyes looking at him worriedly as he stopped in front of her pressing a hand into the hip of his combats.
"My sweater." He said firmly "Now."
Just as she went to answer the glass behind her shattered and she cried out, hot blood spurting over him as he dropped the bag and fell to the ground. The sound of gunfire filled his ears as he pressed his face to the glass covered floor, grinding his teeth angrily. From the way he was positioned he could see the woman on the floor, her body already jerking in its death throws as blood ran from a hole in her chest that had severed her aorta.
It pooled over the floor toward him and he closed his eyes as the sound of smashing and screaming erupted from the hail of gunfire. When at last it stopped he opened his eyes and wrenched away from that cruel finger of blood before it could touch him. Keeping low he took cover under the smashed out storefront, pulling a pistol from his waistband quietly.
"Go in and collect him." He heard an order – the voice muffled by a breather helmet and he held his breath, his old injury from earlier flaring angrily as his ribs complained about his positioning.
He heard the sound of boots on glass and closed his eyes, counting the steps – there were three of them, heavily armed by the weight of their steps – one female.
He was out of time, it was either stay in and deal with three or go out and deal with one.
"There he is!" He heard a female cry, her voice distorted by her helmet and his eyes flew open. Wrenching to his feet his foot caught an upturned chair almost naturally, slamming it right and simultaneously throwing it at the three attackers as he leapt back out of the broken window, stumbling a little as his foot caught the frame but he managed to keep himself upright, turning with his pistol ready looking for the one giving the orders.
There was no one there, only screaming civilians and Hobbs frowned, too late noticing the red dot as it danced on his grey hooded sweatshirt. He moved, the dot sweeping from his heart to his shoulder as the shot fired and he felt red hot pain lance into the muscle there. Crying out he slammed a hand over it – to find that it wasn't a bleeding hole – it was a small, projectile dart.
With a frown he tugged it from him and threw it aside, his fingers losing the grip on his gun as he toppled forward onto all fours.
The world spun angrily and Hobbs heaved as his head struck the ground, he blinked – trying to clear his vision but it was useless as he rolled onto his back. His vision darkened as a figure moved into it, tall and dark and purple.
Asari.
Well. Shit.
"The shadow broker would like a word with you." She said cooly and the last thing he saw was the butt of her rifle flying toward him.
Revenge is a dish best served cold, Foster thought as he modded his sniper rifle and pistol. Commander Shepard had offered to upgrade his Stinger and the Mantis, but he had turned her down. His helmet, on the other hand, had seen better days, so he'd accepted new armor and helmet. It was a dark navy blue and much better than his Technicolor outfit. He strutted through the garage after donning it for the first time.
The Normandy was docked at the Citadel for fuel and maintenance and Shepard had chosen him and Hobbs to accompany her on their short stay. The engineers had assured her the ship would be ready to travel within an hour.
Hobbs was in his special ops armor; no helmet and no gloves. He smirked as his brother approached and Foster knew what was coming. Hobbs' right hand went up, arced down and smacked the new helmet. Hard. The vibration of the blow reverberated with a solid clunk that made Foster's ears ring. Shepard said something and Hobbs' attention was on her, his hand still on Foster's helmet.
Foster waited for it, and he wasn't disappointed. When Hobbs tried to move his hand it wouldn't budge. Foster knew it wouldn't because he'd put krogan adhesive on top of his helmet seconds before exiting the ship. It was tacky glue, and the impact of Hobbs' hand instantly bonded hand to helmet.
Without missing a beat, Foster unsealed the helmet, lifted it off and let it fall, watching with glee as it took Hobbs' hand with it. It was heavy and his brother's arm thunked to his side.
"Since you're so attached to it, bro, be my guest."
Shepard glanced down, but didn't see anything because quick-thinking Hobbs abruptly concealed his encumbered hand behind his back.
"This looks like trouble," she said as a tall man in an admiral's uniform stepped out of the elevator and his precise steps brought him straight to her.
"I'm Admiral Mikhailvich, Commander. I'm here to perform an inspection on your ship."
Foster saluted, as did Shepard. Hobbs wasn't obliged to salute, but he wasn't thinking clearly – his face somewhere between genuine confusion and thinking hard how to get out of the mess he was in - and he snapped to attention and brought his hand up fast. There was a loud thud as the helmet smacked his forehead.
Shepard's eyes widened briefly when she saw the helmet attached to Hobbs' hand. She treated Foster to a look that told him she'd deal with him later. Hobbs grimaced and lowered the offending helmet to his side.
Luckily, the admiral hadn't noticed. His gaze was riveted on the Normandy, and he had a severe expression of displeasure.
"Hobbs, permission granted to go to med bay." Shepard turned away and pointed at something on Normandy's exterior. "We're hoping to have the damage repaired quickly," she told the admiral.
As he passed by Foster he leaned in behind him, his mouth curving into a small smile "You are so going to pay for this, Beer." Hobbs' muttered as Foster widened his eyes in his most innocent 'Who me?' look.
Foster watched Shepard and the admiral converse. The man's rugged features seemed to be a permanent mask of annoyance, and Foster was grateful he didn't have to deal with him.
Once Hobbs was aboard, Shepard accompanied the admiral onto the ship. She glanced back at Foster, giving him a look that said, Stay!
Foster remained on the docking bay, watching ships dock and take off, a favourite pastime. When the inspection was over and Admiral Grumpy was gone, Shepard beckoned Foster to her side.
He loped over, saluting smartly. "Yes, Commander?"
"Do you want to explain what happened?"
He looked guilty. "Sorry. How was I supposed to know there'd be an impromptu inspection? I hope it didn't cause you any trouble with the admiral."
"You do know that Hobbs will end you," she said in a mock-serious tone.
He chortled. "He'll try."
"To save your life, I'm leaving you on the ship and taking him with me." She met the guileless eyes. "Get out of your armor and report to med bay. Dr. Chakwas needs to know what kind of glue you used before she can…" She paused briefly, smothering a smile, "…remove your helmet from your brother's hand." Her mouth twitched and he saw the mirth in her eyes she was trying so desperately to conceal. "Dismissed!"
"Yes, Commander." Foster opened a locker and began shedding his armor and putting on his combats. When he cautiously entered the cockpit he saw Joker doubled over with laughter.
The pilot gave him a two-thumbs up salute. "That was priceless!"
As he made his way to med bay, Foster heard chortles and whispers from everyone he passed. Evidently Joker had broadcast the incident throughout the ship.
Garrus was in the mess when he came down the stairs and the turian gestured. Foster joined him. The turian's blue eyes twinkled, but he steered Foster toward the elevator. "I think you should tell me what glue you used and I'll tell her. You get to the garage and stay there. Wrex is there in case you need him."
"It's not like Hobbs is gonna kill me."
"You didn't see the look on his face when he stalked into the med-bay. I did. For your own sake, Fos, do as I ask."
Foster smiled uncertainly and entered the elevator. "Krogan 32-67A glue—used to glue parts on their Tuchanka trucks."
Garrus chuckled lightly. "You don't mess around."
Garrus waited until his omni-tool beeped, Wrex's signal to him letting him know Foster was in the garage. He entered the med-bay and told Dr. Chakwas what kind of glue. Hobbs was sitting on the closest examination table, chin propped on the hand that was still adhered to the helmet.
"Where is the little fucker?" Hobbs asked, blue-green eyes sizzling hot. He winced as Dr. Chakwas poured the solvent she mixed in the lab on the helmet.
"It may sting a little," she warned Hobbs.
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. The look he shot Garrus did not bode well for Foster. "I said, where is he?"
"I believe your exact words were, 'Where is the little fucker?'" Garrus said, doing a passable imitation of Hobbs' Brit accent.
Hobbs started to leap off the exam table, but Dr. Chakwas restrained him. "Because of the toxicity of the glue, we have to get it off as fast as we can so, please be still."
Garrus snorted behind his talons. "Well, I have some calibrations to do."
"Tell Beer he's dead, only he doesn't know it yet," Hobbs called after him.
The door to the med-bay closed and Hobbs flinched when Dr. Chakwas inserted an instrument between his hand and the helmet. "When I tell you to, Operative, I need you to pull as hard as you can."
In the mess, Shepard and Kaidan were standing in the small line for lunch. She was trying to be polite and keep their conversation to a friendly level. Suddenly, all heads turned to the med-bay.
That sounded like a thresher maw in heat," Wrex said, lumbering over with his tray. "Believe me, I know the sound," he added.
Garrus joined them. "Looks like the doctor got the helmet off."
Kaidan's mouth quirked up and Shepard sighed into her hand. "Wrex, do me a favor?"
"Yeah," the krogan drawled through a mouthful of food.
"You and Garrus take your food down to the garage and keep an eye on Bambi."
There were some nervous titters from some of the crew as Hobbs barged out of the med-bay. Shepard's eyes widened. His temple sported a huge bruise and he was rapidly getting a black eye. The hand that had been glued to the helmet was bandaged.
Shepard excused herself and told Wrex and Garrus to hurry. The krogan and the turian double-timed it to the elevator, the door shutting in Hobbs' face as he stormed past mess.
"Hobbs!"
"What?" He barked and even she flinched, recovering quickly she glanced around well aware the crew were watching them as she cleared her throat and put on a frown.
"A word?" She jerked her head to the side and moved to the stairwell out of the sight of the crowded mess and listened to his heavy boots as he stomped after her.
She turned on the step so that she was level height with him as he came around the corner and stopped abruptly, looking at her almost confused.
She tenderly touched his cheek. "Are you okay?"
"I lost the whole fucking top layer of skin from my whole fucking hand. I got a goose egg and a concussion, but I'm bloody fine!" He raged and she smiled, withdrawing her hand as she pushed her hair behind her ears.
"I guess you don't feel like going with me to the Citadel."
He laughed shortly. "You better get me away from my wanker brother, Tempy, or, so help me…"
She rolled her eyes. "I know, Hobbs. You'll end him."
His eyes were dead serious. "No, I might teach him a lesson." His voice was steel. "I might hurt him."
She nodded. "Well, we can't have that." She said gently "It was just a joke Hobbs."
"He's made me the laughing stock of this ship," Hobbs said in a low dangerous voice. "You better bloody well discipline him or I will Commander!"
"Hobbs." She breathed "It got out of hand, I don't think he realised the severity of the glue he used." She winced at the fast discolouration at his temple "Are you sure you should be walking around?"
"I'm fine." He chewed, turning to his side, leaning into the wall as he folded his arms over his chest, hissing at the pain in his hand as he curled it inside the bandage.
"Hobbs." She pressed and he sighed, closing his eyes briefly before looking at her.
"I'm fine." He said and this time she almost believed it.
"If it would help I could kick you in the balls." She smiled "Might take your mind off the pain in your hand."
He laughed at that, shaking his head "No." He said with a small nod "No that's ok Tempy. I think you've kicked my balls enough since I got here." He inclined his head "Metaphorically speaking of course."
"Yeah." She smiled "You would probably enjoy it too much anyway." She stepped down onto the floor again, looking up at him with an earnest expression "I'm going to get something to eat and then we can go. Promise me you'll stay away from Bambi until you've calmed down?"
"Are you eating with Alenko?" He asked and she shook her head tiredly at him.
"Why?"
Hobbs moved his shoulders "I thought I might join you for some lunch – I'll behave myself." He assured her with a cheeky smile.
"And Bambi?" She prodded and he moved his shoulders.
"Revenge is a dish best served cold." He said and gave her a surreptitious wink.
His eyes rolled open, making him start as his head rolled with them and he had the sudden and intense feeling he was falling.
"Tempy?" He croaked, closing his eyes again as a light flicked on, the white hot light glaring into his eyes to the point he felt them ache and flush with tears. He made to raise his hand to shield them and jerked, alarmed that he could move neither arms nor legs.
He splayed his fingers, feeling tendons strain and pull against a cold bar over his wrists, when he tugged his legs the same mechanism held his feet fast. He was strapped in a chair, disoriented from the white light shining in his face he closed his eyes forcing himself to be still. To breathe and gather his thoughts.
He remembered Omega, and the attack – he remember the girl dying and the asari who had shot him with a dart – some kind of tranquiliser?
"Operative Hobbins." A cool voice crooned and he kept his eyes closed, curling his hands to fists where they were trapped at his sides. "It is a pleasure." The voice was female, and he could tell already by the distinctive lilt it was an asari. Cool, soft fingers ran over bare skin on his chest and he grimaced, cracking one eye open to look at the silhouette as it leaned in close to him.
"You and me, we're going to get to know each other very, very well." She whispered in his ear and he swallowed down a dozen smart remarks, careful to keep his face serene and emotionless. He had been in worse scrapes before, he would work a way out of this one too.
"What do you want?" He asked, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer, he was trying to buy himself time.
"Now now." She teased, bouncing a fingertip on his nose "You know what we want. The location of Commander Shepard's body." She leaned on the headrest next to him, fingers sliding into his hair "And you are going to give it to us."
He smiled, turning his head to he could look into her sharp eyes firmly "Am I?" He asked, his eyebrows rising "I hope you brought a book, because you'll be waiting a long time for that."
She held his gaze, cold certainty in her eyes as she backed up, tugging his hair as her fingers slid back out against his scalp "Unfortnately for you the Shadow Broker doesn't have a lot of patience." The asari said coldly "But he does have an abundance of something else."
Hobbs swallowed the innuendo he felt rising in his chest and cleared his throat instead "It wouldn't be an abundance of humour and manners would it?" He asked sarcastically and the asari pulled a table toward her.
From this angle Hobbs couldn't make out much on the tabletop, but the glint of silver hitting the light told him it was utensils – the same kind he had in the interrogation rooms at Alliance HQ.
"No." She said, flashing him a cruel smile "Toys."
Foster stifled a yawn as he lifted his shirt, loosening his belt enough to get his combats down and dropped unceremoniously onto the toilet seat. It was cold, and wet – which made him grimace, wondering which dirty fu… crew member hadn't lifted the seat previously.
With a sigh he made to get up and clean it when his legs wouldn't move. Well, he considered it carefully – they could move, but he was held fast to the seat – the skin burning at the back of his thighs angrily as he attempted to tug himself to his feet.
Oh shit, he thought blindly I'm stuck.
With a slow panic he twisted in the seat, bracing himself against the wall as he tried to free one cheek or the other, but the seat held fast to his skin. If he applied any more pressure he was going to do himself a serious injury. Panting from the exertion Foster wiped a hand over his forehead trying to gather his thoughts.
Taking a calm breath he turned in the seat again unscrewing the hinges that held the seat to the toilet. He could stand, the seat still stuck to his rear end, but he could stand which was a win. The adhesive was toward the back of the seat – sticking the skin of his thighs and buttocks, but nearer the back of his knees was free and so he could walk – which was a relief.
But he couldn't cover himself, he couldn't get his trousers up and had no way of hiding his extremities. Gingerly he pressed hands between his legs, approaching the door with trepidation.
It opened, and quietly he peered around the corner to see if anyone was around. The mess wasn't crowded, thankfully, but there was no way he could make it to the med bay without being seen. He closed his eyes as his face began to flush crimson just at the thought. And then he spotted the lieutenant, mixing himself a coffee.
"Psst!" He whispered sharply and Kaidan raised black eyes to look at his face peering round the corner. His face dropped into a frown. "Could you… get me a towel… Alenko?" Foster asked, trying his most charming smile and the lieutenant blinked, setting the mug down and moving toward him.
"No no no!" Foster cried backing into the bathroom once more but Kaidan was too quick and moved to stand in the doorway curiously.
"A towel for…" He blinked as he saw Foster's apparent state of distress. "Oh." He said and then his mouth smiled before he could hide it "Oh." He repeated, the word barely suppressing the laughter that was behind it.
"Shut up Alenko!" Foster cried "This is serious!"
Kaidan nodded "It's serious." He smiled remembering all the times the Corporal had made his time on the Normandy difficult, the gay taunts, the name calling, the trips and the jibes and the jokes. "I think it's called payback in laymen's terms, most unexpected but welcome nonetheless." He inclined his head "Suddenly we're out of towels."
"Fuck you!" Foster cried, but his voice was desperate and he knew he needed to get the man on side to get out of this one "Come on Alenko – it's-"
Kaidan turned, his attention caught by a voice and he glanced to Foster before moving away the door closing.
Foster closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his face as he tried to gather his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do? He was going to just have to walk to the med bay – he was going to just have to do it wasn't he? Just as he got his resolve and turned the door opened again and Kaidan was back; dark eyes shining with mirth as he wiped them absently. He had obviously been laughing.
"What do you want now?" Foster snapped, covering his modesty with his hands and turning so that he faced the wall while he looked at the lieutenant. "Come back for a second look?"
This time Kaidan's smile dropped as he moved his shoulders "Maybe."
Foster blinked, his eyes sliding left and right before he frowned "What did you just say?"
"Well," Kaidan shrugged "It was you and your brother that insisted I was gay wasn't it?" He pressed with a smirk "Maybe it's time to put it to the test."
"What?!" Foster squeaked "Get away from me Alenko I'm not gay!"
"Come on Fos." Kaidan grinned, cocking his head as he gave an obvious look at the man's backside "Do you mind if I call you Fos?" He moved in closer, sweeping a hand over the curve of his shoulder gently as Foster cried out, his eyes going wide as he shuffled further into the bathroom, right into the corner and tried to go further.
Kaidan grinned, hot warmth flashing in his eyes as he pushed against him, leaning his mouth to his ear "Or maybe you prefer…" He whispered gently, seductively "…Bambi."
"HELP!" Foster cried suddenly not caring who saw him starkers "HELP!"
There was the sound of laughing and then Hobbs entered the room grinning wildly. Kaidan backed off turning to Hobbs with a smile as he left quickly.
"We even?" Hobbs asked, folding his arms over his chest as he met his brother's gaze evenly.
Foster was shaking, the shock slowly receding as his senses came back to him "You… you put Alenko up to that… you did this?"
Hobbs chuckled "No more pranks Beer. Water under the bridge right? We're even."
Foster nodded slowly "Did you have to get Stinko involved?"
Hobbs laughed "I just wanted to see you squirm a bit. He wasn't actually going to do anything Beer."
Foster laughed nervously "Do you have solvent for this?"
Hobbs moved his shoulders "Dr Chakwas does yeah, but it's gonna sting. Trust me." He waggled his eyebrows at him "We're talking top layer of skin-" He made a ripping noise "Right off. I seriously hope you cupped your balls."
"Fuck you Hobbs." Foster ground out "Just you wai-"
"No." Hobbs said, his tone dropping as he moved in to the room "No more pranks Beer. No more games. You pull anything like that again on anyone on this frigate and I will personally haul your pale backside down to the cargo bay, string you up by your wrists and use you as my punchbag. This is a ship. Not a playground. Proffessional. You got me?" He pushed in closer, his nose bumping his little brothers as Foster nodded glumly.
"I got you." He muttered, his gaze ticking to the floor.
"Now." Hobbs smiled, "Dr Chakwas."
Hobbs stepped aside allowing his brother to walk in front of him still cradling his prize jewels from sight. He expected it – but it still killed him when he rounded the corner into the mess to raucous applause and laughter as the whole crew it seemed was waiting with baited breath. He felt his whole body flush crimson and lifted a middle finger to them all, avoiding their eyes as he shuffled toward the med bay.
"Now now Operative!" He heard her voice calling him back from blackness, felt her hand slap his face hard enough to make his jaw ache sweetly; it distracted him from the pain in his abdomen. He could feel the wound there bleeding, the slow, warm trickle of blood seeping into the waistband of his combats.
He opened his eyes slowly, his vision was fuzzy but he could make out her shape as she stood with her back to him, twiddling a fine scalpel between long purple fingers. She had been interspacing cutting him with electric shock therapy – minus the therapy – and he took back every bad word he ever said to Abigail about her biotics shocking him; it wasn't bad at all. In fact this made biotics like tickling.
"You could save yourself a whole lot of suffering here Hobbins." She drew the words out in a sing-song that made his ears curl "Just tell me where the body went and I'll finish you quickly."
He closed his eyes, licking his lip where it had split from her persistent slaps "Ok." He whispered and she glanced over her shoulder at him.
"And they said you would never see sense." She scoffed, turning to lean on the headrest next to his head, she pressed a rough kiss to his forehead deliberately over a fresh bruise making him wince "Not just a pretty face." She crooned "Where is Shepard?"
He opened his eyes, looking at her seriously his mouth trembling and then he hawked in his throat and spat in her face.
Her eyes snapped shut as blood and phlegm spattered her cheeks and eyelids and when she opened them again he flashed a bloodied grin "You ain't getting jack from me you purple bitch." He growled "But you are welcome to keep trying."
Swiping a hand over her face the asari stalked from him "Maybe I'll let you cool off for a while." She barked, slamming her hand on a console somewhere and then he heard the door hiss open and closed behind her as the temperature in the room began to drop.
He waited a moment until he was sure she wouldn't come back in, twisting his hands against the metal holds, exerting as much pressure as he could without harming himself. There was no way these braces were loosening with brute strength alone, no to get out of this one he was going to have think harder.
But thinking was fast becoming troublesome and he frowned, fighting to keep his eyes open against the encroaching chill and his blood loss. Blinking wide he shook his head roughly, but still the heaviness persisted – he would be damned if he was going to let an asari take him out.
"You look in a spot of bother there lad – "The voice was so familiar and so unexpected he almost choked as he swivelled his head to see his grandfather lean in "always getting yersel into too much trouble Gyle." He shook his head muttering and Hobbs balked, frowning at him before he gave the room a cautionary glance.
"Are you really here?" He asked him and then shook his head "That bitch put something in the gas didn't she?"
His grandfather smiled, warm face pouching with skin as he raised his eyebrows "Looks that way my son." He laughed "Let me ask you a riddle-"
"No no no paps, no riddles, I just… I need a minute to clear my head." He closed his eyes, thoughts rolling together angrily as he fought to open them once more.
"Little Nanny Etticote,
In a white petticoat,
Wi a red nose.
The longer she staunds,
The shorter she grows"
Hobbs frowned "I don't care." He mumbled "Your stupid riddles."
"What did I always tell you Gyle, you and that temper – if you ride like lightning-"
He chuckled softly "You'll crash like thunder."
"Stick around kiddo." He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder "It ain't over yet."
"Hobbs."
He crushed his eyes closed, wishing he could bring his hands over his face as he heard her voice. "Not you." He whispered "You're not here."
"Hobbs?" The voice took on a painful lilt – that tone she got when she was playing with him, but it was cruel and he shrank back as he felt her fingers brush his arm.
"Hobbs." Tentatively he opened his eyes, looking into cold, blank blue ones. Shepard leaned into him, blood trickling from her mouth as she smiled at him darkly "Where were you Hobbs?" She asked softly and he froze, his breath rattling in his chest and he couldn't look away from her, from the accusation on her face as her brow creased into a frown, those dead eyes searing his soul "Where the fuck were you?"
Alyena smiled as she watched the Operative writhe and scream in the chair. The nerve gas – or so the shadow broker called it – always had a funny effect on humans and she enjoyed the look of torment on their faces.
He was proving tough to crack but Alyena had cracked tougher and she didn't give up that easily. She smiled as he bucked upward, his back bowing as he tried to free himself, wondering idly what it was he saw – everyone had different reactions, everyone saw different things when under the influence.
"Ma'am." A small voice sounded behind her and Alyena turned, eyeing the agent as he moved from one foot to the other nervously. She frowned at the batarian and he cleared his throat "We've had a breach on the outer hull – we're not sure but it looks like it could be an attack."
Alyena sighed, turning back to the containment room "Watch him." She said stiffly "Make sure he doesn't flake out. I'll be back shortly."