Content Warning: This chapter contains an attempted sexual assault scene.
He was back sooner than Garrus had hoped. The sound of limping footsteps and that unmistakable stench alerted him to the slaver's return. The turian knew this would happen eventually. That filthy rat wanted her too bad.
As the batarian entered the holding area, Garrus felt her flinch beside him. Her eyes darted to his, seeking reassurance. The female pressed closer, trembling against his larger frame. Instinctively, he raised his arm to shield her.
The limp glared at the prisoner with obvious irritation.
This turian is going to learn, the rat thought. Balak had given him the activation codes for the collar, and now he could zap the slave as many times as he damn pleased.
"Don't rough his pretty feathers too much," the boss had told him. He wouldn't. The dog was big enough, he proved he could handle the exposure without shitting his pants. But he still squirmed, like all the rest. And if he tried something, he would squirm again.
"Thought you were gonna have her all to yourself?" the slaver taunted Garrus with a smirk, then moved closer. He crouched by the crate, leering at her.
Garrus heard the female inhale sharply. His turian instinct to protect her flared.
"Come here, kitten. I won't hurt you," the batarian purred, his voice dripping with false sweetness.
Garrus tensed, preparing himself for whatever he had to do. Now that the human had a collar on, the rat was way braver. Fucking coward.
His four eyes were shifty, dancing around her frame—what he could see of her, covered by the turian's body— stopping in all the places he wanted to examine more closely. Disgusting.
Garrus uttered a low growl, warning the rat to stay away. The slaver, however, was undeterred, his boldness growing by the second. Not too much though. He was still mindful of the turian and kept his distance.
"Know your place, dog," he barked, showing off his omni-tool with a menacing glare.
The threat was clear. Garrus flinched at the memory of the pain but held his ground. He waited for the rat to get closer. Turians had long reach, their arms were massive, strong. One chance is all I need, he thought. The batarian, however, remained frustratingly out of range, not giving him any.
"Move away from the bars," he ordered impatiently.
The turian didn't budge. He realized there was only one way it was going. The slaver, sensing the same, gave him a smug grin and pressed a button.
Garrus braced himself. The world went white. Pain blinded him, rendering him powerless. It lasted only a couple of seconds but was enough for the rat to open the door and lunge for her.
There was nowhere to run. She was in the corner of the crate, metal walls pressing at her on both sides. The batarian needed only to reach out and grab her. She felt his firm grip on her ankle and cried out. He yanked her by the leg past the gasping turian, pulled her out in one swift motion, and shut the door behind her. He had clearly done this many times before, his every move tried and tested.
The turian threw himself at the bars a second later. It took him too long to recover.
She kicked and screamed as the slaver crawled over her like a spider. Her brain short-circuited. She forgot everything they taught her in combat readiness. All she knew was him pressing her into the concrete floor with his weight.
Her biotics was gone. She came to rely on it too much, her instructor would always say. He was right. She would make sure to tell him that.
She felt completely helpless without her powers and started panicking. She hated herself for it, but couldn't change a thing. Not when he was groping her as he was—forcefully, impatiently.
All Garrus could do was watch. It's been less than a day since they got captured, and he was already failing her. First his men, then his mission, now the human.
Her scent was overpowering, making it impossible for him to think rationally. The smell of a female in pain, in danger, in shock filled his nostrils, driving him wild with a primal instinct.
Garrus reacted like an animal, instead of thinking like the well-trained officer he was. His fringe narrowed and subvocals raged, vicious sounds escaped his chest. His talons gripped the bars of the cage, mandibles flaring to the sides of his face, teeth bared in a snarl. He applied all of his strength, flexing every muscle in his body, and to his surprise, they budged. If only for an inch.
The worn-out metal made a strained creaking sound. Loud enough for the rat to look up at the turian with surprise. A glimpse of fear sparkled in his many eyes as he examined thick rods that served as cage bars. Could they really give? He had welded them in himself, they were strong enough to hold a krogan in heat.
The slaver's sudden pause gave the human an opening. She freed one of her wrists from his grip and hit his temple with her elbow. He yelped, clutching his face with both hands. She tried to crawl away, but was too slow.
The rat recovered fast and lunged after her with doubled force. In his rage, the batarian grabbed a fistful of her golden mane and slammed her face against the floor. The female shrieked once. The blow rendered her senseless, her body went limp, allowing him to regain full control. He was not going to play nice with her now.
Garrus was paralyzed in his helplessness, watching her from the side, feeling her, smelling her. He knew what was coming next. By hurting the scumbag, she only made him angrier. There was one truth about this whole thing she didn't know, one that he and the batarian shared between themselves. If you fight them, you only make it worse.
The slaver quickly realized there was no way Garrus could actually break the metal rods. He looked up at him smugly, then pulled her head backwards exposing her throat to the turian, clearly aware of turian mating customs. He was showcasing him the female, establishing his dominance over her. Garrus felt enraged, giving the batarian the satisfaction. His talons tightened on the bars.
"You should've tasted her when you had a chance," the batarian rat said.
His head dipped into her neck. She tried to push away as she was coming to her senses. But her movements were too weak and sluggish, and his grip on her mane was tight.
"She feels warm, doesn't she? Smells so good…"
The female moaned. He pulled her closer to him as she did. One of his hands reached down to unbuckle his pants. Garrus could tell it made the scumbag hard, having her fight him like that, feeling his victory over a scared tiny human female. Repulsive.
The coward never stood a chance against her without that collar on her neck, and he knew it. They all knew it. And they enjoyed seeing her reduced to this. Relished in it.
"You know, I can always tell if they haven't been used before." His words made her howl, and he answered with a lustful clicking of his tongue. "It's always the ones who resist the most. They think they can fight their way out of it. And it makes it even sweeter…"
The slaver licked the side of her face, making her jerk with repulsion. His hand was on her tiny human shorts now, pulling them down, exposing more of her pale unplated skin. The female closed her eyes shut as her face contorted in a human expression Garrus had never seen before but understood for what it was.
When she opened them, she looked straight at the turian. His heart missed a beat.
Her eyes, her beautiful eyes… The things he saw in then. She was beyond panic, beyond despair. This could not happen. He could not let this happen.
He plunged back to the wall behind him to use it to push the full weight of his body forward against the weaker side with welded-in bars. With enough force behind it he could probably ram through. Garrus had never done this before, didn't know if it could even work. An impact like that could easily fracture his keel. But he wasn't thinking. It was pure instinct. The female needed him.
"What the fuck are you doing to my biotic?!" An angry voice rang out, causing the batarian's face to twist. It was a voice he clearly recognized and hated, yet had to obey.
An asari stood at the entrance to the holding cell, arms crossed, her expression one of barely concealed irritation. Her dark blue skin bore markings around the eyes and along the cheekbones, signaling her authority within the asari hierarchy. She wore a sleek black jumpsuit with a shock rod holstered at the hip.
The batarian growled in frustration, his eyes dark with rage. He was so close. What the fuck is this bitch doing here so early?
"Balak said I can have her," he snapped, avoiding her gaze.
Garrus observed the interaction, realizing she was likely the head of the asari faction within the slaver ring.
"Oh, did he?" her tone was icier than the space vacuum. "You do know the biotics are mine?"
The asari strode into the room with a commanding presence, her gaze sweeping over the scene with a cold, calculating edge.
The human lay on the floor, semi-conscious, her breaths shallow and uneven.
"You can have that after I'm finished with her."
"There will be nothing left when you are finished with her," the batarian shot back, his voice low but seething with anger.
He buckled his pants, mumbling batarian curses. The asari approached and kicked his side with her boot.
"Get off of her, you animal."
The rat's anger flared, but he obeyed, rising to his feet with a snarl.
The weight was lifted from the human's frail form, and she flipped onto her back, trying to crawl away to the nearest wall, her movements still sluggish. The asari observed her with detached curiosity. When the blue-skinned slaver finally moved towards the female, Garrus made a low growl.
Only now did she notice him.
A turian. He was crouching in the crate in the center of the holding cell, gripping the bars, eyes following her sharply.
Has he been locked in here with the human? she thought smiling to herself. Balak has a sick sense of humor.
The slaver's eyes narrowed as she observed the turian's state. His pupils were fully dilated, chest rumbling with unmistakable keening sounds. His fringe had narrowed, pointing edge-down, and his flat nose drew in the air around him, clearly sensing the female's proximity. The signs were unmistakable—he was agitated, roused, and ready for mating.
A venomous smile spread across her dark blue lips as the realization dawned. How long had they been cramped together in that tiny crate? Long enough for circumstance and turian nature to override a decade of animosity between their two species.
The asari found it almost poetic. She wondered if the beast even knew what he was being forced into. Would it even take and, most importantly, could he take it? She never heard about any such thing between a turian and a human—understandably so with the raging war. Not something you see every day.
Garrus didn't like the way the slaver looked at him. Like she knew something he didn't. Her gaze didn't linger on him for long, though. She turned her attention back to the human. After all, that's who she was here for.
"Let's have a look at you," the asari said with a smile promising nothing good and turned to her omni-tool.
The human tried to crawl away, but didn't go far, as her collar suddenly came to life with a soft, sinister click. The micro-injector shot into her neck, activated by the slaver's arm device.
Garrus noted a faint smell of something metallic—Soporax, a mild sedative wildly used for non-invasive medical procedures in more civilized parts of the galaxy. Here, it was making slaves compliant and complacent.
The human had no time to react before the drug took hold. The edges of the room softened, objects came into clear focus, then slightly blurred. Her body grew lighter, almost weightless, and for some reason it was hard to move.
The asari reached out and put a blue palm on her forehead. She barely felt the touch, but she definitely felt what came next—her drugged and sluggish body convulsed with a sudden jolt, and her mind went up in flames as their consciousness melded. She cried out in pain, but no sound came out. She tried to push the intruder out, but the asari was too strong, invading her with force, taking what she needed.
"Oh yes…" the slaver said, her voice entranced. "Very powerful indeed… But let's go a little deeper…"
The images washed over like a tidal wave, overwhelming and unstoppable. She gasped, but there was no air in that place. Only pain. So much pain. Faces blurred in her mind—screams, her own voice raw from shouting into the void. Her hands instinctively strained with biotics that never came. Her mind fractured, unable to distinguish between the past and present.
"That's just perfect," the asari cooed, finally letting go.
The human looked at her with terror, knowing what was happening. The memories were still floating on the surface, cutting her mind with sharp edges. All those things she had ever suppressed or tried to forget, ready for the slaver's pleasure, at the tip of her blue fingers.
The asari gave her a predatory smile and punched in another command on the omni-tool.
"Love your eyes."
A sharp pinch to the neck brought on a new wave of haze. This time she welcomed it, she wanted the darkness…
A rare find, the slaver mused, eyes scanning the unconscious human sprawled on the floor.
"Take her to my quarters," she commanded the batarian.
The four-eyed rat obeyed instantly, grabbed the human off the floor with a look of pleasure on his filthy face, excited to touch her again. The asari seemed to notice.
"No detours, Fort! Straight to my quarters, you hear me?"
The batarian grumbled in response, clearly displeased. "I hear you, Theia." With those words, he carried the prisoner out of the pen.
The asari followed. She gave a wicked glance to the turian in the crate, then disappeared into the hallway.
It had been an hour, maybe more. Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the cold, damp cell, each moment bleeding into the next with agonizing slowness. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional distant echoes of footsteps or muffled voices—sounds that made Garrus's fringe bristle with anxiety.
He had watched them take her away unable to do anything about it.
Some slaver hunter you are.
His mind spiraled into a dark place, thoughts of his failures mixing with horrors of what they might be doing to the helpless civilian. The pain from the collar seemed insignificant by comparison.
Garrus felt utterly useless. He had no plan, no clue of what to do next. The rage that had fueled him before, now gave way to something else. Something he was ashamed to admit, even to himself. Fear.
But not for himself. No, this fear was different, completely irrational. He feared for her. The human. His enemy. The very person he had orders to capture. It was the strangest thing, devoid of any logic, yet unmistakable—he feared she might not return.
He didn't understand it. They'd barely spoken, barely interacted beyond sharing this miserable space. Yet her presence made it bearable. He felt responsible for her, found a reason to fight beyond his own survival. Not just for himself, but for someone else, someone completely innocent.
If he could help her, if he could save this one person, maybe it would absolve him of guilt, redeem him somehow… but now she was gone, and with her, his resolve seemed to crumble.
They take everything from you. Even your will.
He shouldn't give up.
There came the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Garrus's muscles coiled with tension as he crouched, moving to the bars of the cage. His eyes fixed on the doorway.
Suddenly, his fringe twitched, turian senses picking up a familiar scent. Her scent. But it was different now, tainted with something else. Something metallic and sharp. A smell he knew all too well from countless battlefields. Human blood. And judging by the intensity, there was a lot of it.
A low growl escaped his chest, subvocals vibrating with barely contained rage. She was hurt. They had hurt her. The realization hit him like a physical blow, making his claws dig into the metal bars. The primal, protective instinct that had been growing since they were thrown together in this pit overwhelmed all other thoughts.
The krogan guard lumbered into view, his massive bulk filling the doorway. He was carrying her in his arms. The turian could see her better now. She was still alive. Unconscious and very pale, but no apparent wounds were visible.
The brute approached the cage, stopping just out of reach. Garrus wondered how the krogan was going to get her in the cage and ward the turian away at the same time, his hands being busy with holding her.
"Back," the brute snarled.
Garrus complied, slowly backing away from the bars.
The guard came closer, then threw the female to the ground unceremoniously. She hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
Rage boiled in his veins, but the turian forced it down. Now wasn't the time. She needed his help.
The krogan wasted no time unholstering his shotgun, keeping it trained on Garrus, warning him not to do anything stupid, as he reached for the door with his free hand. "Pull her in," he commanded gruffly.
Garrus did as he was told without hesitation. This wasn't the opening he needed—not with a shotgun aimed at his head. He had to bide his time, wait for a better opportunity. He reached out and grasped the female's wrist. Her skin felt cool to the touch, alarmingly so. He pulled her into the cage.
Once she was inside, Garrus gathered her into his arms and began to examine her for injuries. That's when he saw it—the source of all that blood.
The back of her shoulder was a mess of deep, ragged claw marks. The flesh there was not just sliced, but torn and shredded. The lacerations went deep into what passed for human muscles—soft, puffy tissue. While turian talons could certainly leave nasty gashes, the sheer size of the marks suggested krogan.
A low raging snarl escaped Garrus's chest as his gaze snapped back to the guard. Was it him? Was he the one to hurt her so badly?
No... he couldn't smell her scent on the brute. Had to be someone else.
The krogan slammed the door shut with a clang that echoed through the room. He lumbered to his feet, a cruel smirk twisting his features.
"She is wounded," the turian growled.
His response was a harsh, grating sound of laughter.
"You should have seen the others," the guard said, his voice thick with a sick sort of admiration. "Those poor bastards. The little one really did a number on them. A fucking killing machine she is..."
He sounded impressed, maybe even a little aroused by the memory. The thought made Garrus's stomach turn.
Still chuckling to himself, the krogan turned to leave.
"You don't fucking leave her like this!" Garrus shouted, pressing himself against the bars.
The guard's laughter only grew louder. He didn't even bother to turn around as he headed for the exit.
The turian's mind raced. He had to do something, say something to make him stop.
"She won't be able to entertain you further if you let her bleed out," he called out, thinking quickly. "Don't think Theia will be pleased with that."
The mention of the asari name had the desired effect. The krogan froze in his tracks, a low, pensive growl rumbling from his chest. Garrus could practically see the wheels turning in that tiny lizard brain of his.
For a long moment, the guard just stood there, weighing his options. With a grunt of annoyance, he turned back to face the cage. He reached for something on his belt and pulled out a small container, then tossed it carelessly into the center of the room.
"On the house," he groaned. "Make her ready for the next round."
With that, he stomped out of the room.
Garrus looked at the small object. Medi-gel.
He laid the female down on the floor. She made no sound, didn't so much as twitch. If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, he might have thought she was already gone.
The turian pressed himself against the bars, stretching his arm out as far as it would go. His talons scraped against the concrete, just inches away from the medi-gel. Just a little further...
Got it! His talon hooked around the small container, dragging it close enough for him to grab.
Wasting no time, he gathered the female back into his arms, turning her carefully onto her side to expose the wounded shoulder.
With steady hands, he squeezed out a small amount of healing agent onto his fingers and began to apply it to the wounds.
He decided not to use it all in case she needed it later.
He was nearly finished when she stirred in his arms, a pained moan escaping her lips. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. Those violet eyes stared right through him, unfocused and hazy. Her pupils were completely dilated—effects of the drugs that still coursed through her system.
The bastards made her fight krogan slaves, probably just to see how far they could push her. That's what they were doing to biotics in their spare time. Aside from training and special demonstrations to potential buyers, they would arrange fights between slaves. It was a 'fun' way to get rid of washed out, useless or defective 'merchandise'. Instead of just killing them, they would have them be killed, make a show out of it—the local kind of entertainment.
A low, feral growl built in his chest before he could stop it. The sound seemed to catch her attention, the glassy eyes finally focusing on his face.
He saw the moment recognition hit her—not of him specifically, but of what he was.
A turian.
A growling and vicious turian looking straight at her, making those terrifying sounds they always made right before they attacked.
Her cloudy, inflamed mind exploded with the basic, instinctive reaction to his proximity. The panic that flooded her features made his heart ache.
She cried out weakly, her hands coming up to push against his chest. Every movement seemed to cause her pain, but she still fought against him with what little strength she had left…
Her right shoulder blade was burning. She didn't know why. Everything was a blur, except his terrifying face. She fought him through the pain, and felt him grab her only tighter. Except… he wasn't hurting her. His holding her was the only thing that didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt?
He was saying something. She couldn't understand. She looked into his eyes. They were piercing blue. She knew those eyes. There was no threat or anger in them. They were calm, seemed almost… kind. She knew turian eyes could never be like that—they always came attached to a monster—yet his were different, for some reason.
The markings on his face were also familiar to her. Bright blue. Matching his eyes. Did she know him?
He pulled her closer to her chest. She hurt too much to resist him any longer.
She felt his hand touch her head. This was it, she thought closing her eyes…
The world faded away. Somewhere in the dark, she heard a distant voice. Soothing and comforting. Almost human.