Bright neon red and purple lights danced off Garrus' visor. The ever-looming words of Afterlife had become routine for him during his two-year stint on Omega. He walked past, moving to a side wall where a thin turian loitered.
"Jauurut sent me," Garrus coughed out as he approached.
With a grunt, the turian hit a panel, almost indistinguishable from the other. The red and purple neon grew and spun. The wall slid to the side. Thrumming dark tones and dimly blue flashing lights greeted Garrus on the VIP floor of Afterlife.
"You fight, and you're out. Defending yourself is fine. Be careful in there, and enjoy your time."
Omega was the last place Garrus wanted to be. Especially not enjoy. His eyes darted around, just waiting for someone to ambush him. He took a breath to calm himself. Very few people knew Archangel's true face. Well, those that had were now dead. And with the new scars and outfit change to blend with the clientele, Garrus may as well have been a new turian.
He worked amongst the crowd to the corner of the bar. The seat allowed him a good visual of the entrance and dance floor.
Within half an hour, a young asari, Vlyrica, no more than a century old, began conversing with him. Bright pink markings under her eyes popped with the light blue of her skin. A tight green dress covered most of her body. She played as a good distraction as he scanned the bar for the asari he was looking for.
Morinth.
A plan dreamed up by Samara, no doubt, to lure the all-powerful asari with Shepard as bait.
Shepard had planned to do this alone, with only Samara hiding in the shadows somewhere. He couldn't have that. Shepard had already gotten herself poisoned and stabbed on two different accounts. Now, with no armor? Or weapon? She needed more than just to be live bait. Besides, he knew Omega. He was best for the job. He's argued and got his way. He fitted in, and damn Morinth had probably seen him before. He wouldn't register with her as long as he kept his head damn and stayed drinking.
Garrus continued to talk with the young asari. He half listened to her, nodded along, and chimed in when appropriate. Vlyrica laughed, continued drinking, and babbled on as Garrus scanned the scenery.
A drunk turian making a nuisance of himself with one of the dancers in one corner, a krogan thug in the next, and journalists about to get themselves killed. The usual for Omega. But he still waited for one person in particular.
The wall to the entrances hissed, and the red and purple lights illuminated Shepard's figure as she walked in. A black dress clung to her body, and red-lined patterns decorated her waist. Dark brown hair slicked back to her waist, swaying with each step. Black and red makeup surrounded her eyes.
Shepard turned heads as she walked in alone. Garrus tried not to be one of them. But the patterns on her dress accentuated her muscles as she walked. He allowed himself a quick look and back to Vlyrica.
Within ten minutes of her entrance, she dismantled two gang operations with the threat of her presence. All while saving a journalist in the process. It was disheartening how easily she fit in a role Garrus had worked hard at for two years.
Finishing up, Shepard made a beeline to the bartender. She gave a curt glance and nothing more to Garrus. Only ten feet away, but for now, they were strangers. Garrus avoided watching her, focusing on young asari next to him.
A laugh escaped Shepard's mouth as she spoke with the bartender. Fake. While all human laughs sounded the same to him. Shepard had a distinct nature. A surprised snort usually came from her. Unattractive, at least according to the human crew who noted it. But to Garrus, it was just very much Shepard.
This laugh was light and controlled, but with an all too convincing smile, as she placed her hand on the human bartender's forearm.
Garrus tried not to react or notice it, but his good mandible flicked out. The same carefully placed hand she had put on Garrus' forearm when she proposed their arrangement.
Blowing off steam.
They weren't anything serious—friends with an arrangement. But how to start that arrangement has been nothing more than a highly intense operation for him. When he tried to initiate, based on all the research, he had not gotten far.
Garrus' ungloved hand, trimmed talons, circled the small of Shepard's back. Her chest began to form a red bloom that soon rose to her face. Shepard bolted up from her seat and excused herself to the restroom. She came out, fresh-faced, smelling floral-like, and sat closer to him, almost atop him. His hands fumbled nervously around her, unsure how to continue with the interruption. They spend the rest of the night just talking and building model ships.
A high, intense voice cut through embarrassing memories, returning him to the dark neon club.
"And then I'll be traveling to Palaven after finishing here. I still have a few more pieces in the works."
Vlyrica looked up to him as if waiting for a response. Eye light and full of life. Too sweet for Omega and was most likely to get herself killed sooner if she didn't follow through with those plans. Garrus went back into undercover, only half focused on Shepard and the other half on his cover.
"So why Omega for your project? Do you actually have to be here, or is it some kind of starving artist thing?"
"I guess 'cause my father was from here. He was an artist, too." She paused, looking off towards the crowd, and continued. "I want to create amazing oil portraits like him. My goal is to capture the true essence of the citizens of the city they inhabit. Not just the gangs or politics, but the hardworking people trying to get by."
"Is that why you're talking to me?"
"Well, would you call yourself hardworking?" She laughed at her retort.
"Maybe, but what really got you talking to me?"
She turned her head, avoiding his gaze. "Your scars caught my eye."
Garrus froze, not liking where the conversation was heading. She could be genuinely interested in him or figured him to be Archangel.
But she continued at his discomfort. "I've never seen a turian with scars like that before. They look fresh. Did you get them here?"
Garrus' mandibles flicked out in irritation again. Pain shot through his jaw on the damaged side. The bandages were off, and the plates healed over, but he still barely had function on his right side.
"I don't mean to offend! I mean, umm, I just think they would make for an interesting subject for a painting." Vlyrica blurred out. "You would, I mean."
Garrus sighed with relief. She was either a fantastic actor or a typical artist.
"None take. It's nice to know they are more than just an eyesore."
"You are definitely not an eyesore." She looked at him, eyes wide, and a purple hue formed on her cheeks. Garrus coughed, uncomfortable with the attention on himself.
"Well, you should leave Omega soon. The tide pool beaches of Cipritine are pristine this time of year. They'll dry up by the end of the season."
"Oh, I'll have to look into that!" Vlyrica followed along with the change in topic. "You know Ilium beaches…" she continued, acting as his great cover.
Shepard remained in his periphery as he listened to Vlyrica. Shephard's hand still rested on the bartender. His mandibles flicked again at the sight. The irritation worsened as Shepard's voice cooed over the intercom, far too airy and light than Garrus had ever heard from her.
"Now, what if the whole bar could have a round on you, Edwin." Shephard's hand trailed up his arm. The bartender laughed and stammered over Shepard as she stared into him.
"Alright, just this once, and you know… my shift ends in a few hours if you're gonna stick around."
"We'll see about that," Shepard played along as she took a sip of her drink and activated her omni-tool to send a tip his way.
The bartender began wiping up drinks for anyone in earshot of the bar. Vlyrica, already two drinks in, sat up with excitement.
"Oh, how cool! Thank you!" Vlyrica slurred out, reaching for her new drink. "Same as before, big guy?" She nudged into Garrus with a smile. Bright white teeth flashed out.
Garrus almost felt a glare from Shepard as Vlyrica hung off of him. But her attention was on other patrons before he could be sure.
"Sure, but you should probably be taking it easy. Omega is not somewhere you want to stumble around drunk.
"Ohh, you're no fun!"
"Okay, fine, one more then," he laughed while he took his drink. Garrus raised his glass and cheered it with her.
"I'm glad I can be so convincing," Vlyrica giggled as she took a sip.
More cheers came out from the teeming crowd as the free drinks came out. Shepard raised her glass to the other patrons. She sent a wink into the general direction of the cheers, carefully not towards Garrus.
Even then, the heat on his neck began to rise, and plates in his chest began to move and catch on each other as his heart rate increased. One drink over an hour, but he still felt on edge with a buzz in his system. And how Shepard moved and acted was not helping.
Among the cheers, a hulking Krogran with a dark green crest remarked loudly. "So they let just about anyone in these days."
Shephard's flirty demeanor turned sharp and stern to the krogran. "Do you want to take this outside?" Her eyes narrowed at him. She kept a silent stare as the Krogran loomed down at her.
"Well?" Shepard's head cocked to the side to give him more of an eyeful. The krogran bowed out first and left the bar mumbling, with a free drink in hand.
A wry smile formed on Shepard's lips as her fingertips trailed along the bartop. She moved on to her next target to grab attention to herself. Not that she needed to do much else. Garrus tried his best not to watch her walk away. But he still stole a glance. The sight of swaying waist and hips became interrupted by shattering glass.
"I said I want you, not more booze," The obnoxious turian leered over a dancer. He had become more belligerent as the night went on. "Come on, we can go back to my place. I have the creds."
"I'm a dancer, not a hooker! Security!" The dancer screamed, looking in Garrus' direction, eyes wide and wild. Garrus almost left his seat as a voice came over his comms.
"Garrus, do not get up. Let Shepard handle it." Samara's ice-cold voice stopped him, as if she kill him on the spot if he moved.
A bark came from Shepard, almost like order, as she separated the turian from the dancer.
"Sober up and stop bothering her."
The drunk sneered and laughed while looking down at Shepard. He had almost two feet on her.
"If I can't have her, you'll do just fine." His hand shot forcefully at her waist, enough for Shepard to step back.
Garrus gripped his hands on the bar, stinging anger at the sight. Trying not to bring the scene and eyes onto himself. He didn't trust Samara but trusted Shepard to handle herself.
Without a word, the drunk's hand unnaturally bent back, and he crumpled on the floor in a drunken mess.
The asari dancer kicked past him to thank Shepard. "Thank you! Security was asleep."
"No problem," Shepard laughed at the statement. "I barely had to touch him."
Shepard went to leave and became face to face with a light blue asari sporting a skin-tight black jumpsuit—a pit formed in Garrus' stomach. The plan worked.
The asari's eyes lingered up and down Shepard's form. Eye lidded as she observed Shepard. Garrus couldn't tell if it was lust or hunger.
"I've been watching you. You're the most interesting person in this place."
"He was nothing." Shephard's voice came out calm and confident as she watched the asari. Waiting for her next move.
"I don't doubt it. It seems you handle yourself quite well."
"Oh? Well, whose noticing?"
"I'm Morinth. Why don't you join me at my table? I'd love to know more about you."
"Lead the way."
Morinth placed her hand on the small of Shepard's back. Garrus watched as the same red spread up from her chest to her face. He gritted his fangs together and dug his grip tighter into the bar.
He had to trust Shepard.