FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fingers tapping the control board, feet hitting the old-school pedals, head bobbing right and left. Music blaring through all speakers, used food bags lying on the passenger seat, lit skylines above.

Swerve and hear you scream!

Refuse the fallacy!

Mortar, blood and steel!

The deranged travesty!

Old planets left to decay!

Their lives, their future bleeding away!

This time, no one to interrupt him. No customers as he stood at the edge of a disaffected warehouse, a few meters away from the entrance. The engine ran, the loud purr brimmed with energy. And beyond the tainted glass, beyond the relative peace of the vehicle, he saw Vorchas sniffing around.

Dirty, malnourished, small, they hunched over the car to find something interesting. But none dared to touch it, or aggravate the owner, lest they were punished by the Blood pack.

Or so Remus had been ensured. Finally, he turned down the music and kicked the door open, threatening to hit one of those hideous aliens right in the face. One foot, another, and there the Black-scaled Turian was out. His clean black vest shone in the dimming neon light, oil-treated leather right from Earth, while his sleek pants hugged his legs, showing the details of the muscles tensed beneath the scaled skin.

He had thought to bring some glasses like in his favorite gangster movies but had found it silly since the asteroid had never been graced by a single second of correct lightning. UV cures were a thing for the upper classes, not for him or anyone living in the lower districts.

With a sleek approach, he got to his car's trunk and opened with nothing, but a finger-touch on the lock, revealing what was inside: a used duffel bag he lifted with one hand... And threw it at the Krogan just two meters on his right.

A monster of flesh beneath purple and red scales with red eyes onto Remus, fixating him with nothing but a hard scowl. That guy was even growling, but there was nothing tangible from the former creeper addict. Ever since the Blood pack veteran had been forbidden to use that shitty low-end drug, Targ was on his nerves and stomping needlessly whenever he approached Remus.

A silly behavior for an individual almost twice the Turian's size with a shotgun attached to his backside and with muscles to back up the massive recoil of that dated blunderbuss.

But hey, who was Remus to judge? He closed the trunk and leaned against it, offering a smug grin to the Krogan, who stood there expectantly. It was so delicious to see him squirm and fight back, to attempt to remain composed.

But the slight pull on the lips' commissure, the eyes squinting, or those fists clenching... Oh, oh, Remus liked to see those.

He finally asked, "So? You're sending the credits?"

The criminal looked around.

It had been a while since he brought anything but his Vorcha goons. His teammates were probably left to the base, with the assurance Remus was a "reliable" Turian. But the truth was different. And it proved when Remus lowered his hand and gave his groin a little scratch. The shiver from Targ was just... perfect.

"I need Turian dick," grumbled the creature in his awful way of speaking, in growls that messed with the translation software. Not that it impacted Remus, but the glitching sound was a tad annoying to listen to while the big lug spoke.

"Heh, sorry slut, but today's schedule is tight. You're not the sole hit I need to visit," stated Remus without ever moving an inch. Oh, he loved to see Targ squirm. No longer was he insulting him or any turian, wearing that smug face. And... Remus gave in to another scratch, felt good to give the jewels a little care.

"Stop teasing. I need your dick," prompted the Krogan again, his teeth scrapping his lips for half a second.

"What? I can't understand you. I'm a stupid blue-blood Turian."

Oh, impunity was so delightful. And Remus barely managed to stop his mandibles from clicking.

In return, Kror scowled and lowered his head, taking a step closer to Remus while keeping his voice low so none of the Vorchas could hear.

"Don't be a tease... I need your Dick, Remus. I really need it."

"Ah, you want a fix? Well, perhaps we can arrange something."

The golden eyes brimmed with malice and Remus brought his hand to his pants' fly. He pulled it down, revealing how he had been going commando beneath. A detail Targ surely didn't miss, with that agape mouth, while Remus plunged his finger within his pants and pulled out his dick.

Vibrant blue, half-erect... And mostly coated with his cum, along with someone's else fluids. The scent from it was absurdly intense, a mix of turian musk and his Dad's. Kror had been needy this morning.

But the fume emanating from Remus's cock made Targ stagger. Big, large... Yet unable to stay steady as his nostrils dilated and so were his pupils, getting his high off Turian's cock instead of creeper. A change for him, surely for the better. And with that everlasting smug attitude, the smaller male began to flash his cock by waving it up, wiling the larger one. In the middle of a gaggle of Vorchas.

"Go on, this is not the merchandise you want?" jested Remus, while posing against the trunk, flexing.

"In- In your car," stammered Targ, only to be met with a denying retort.

"Nah, my car doesn't need to smell like a Krogan slut simmering in her juice. On your knees, or I pull out."

"You can't!"

"Are you in position to discuss?"

Still waving his dick in plain sight, unbothered by the Vorchas fixated on the two males, Remus even got so far as to fake checking on his omnitool. He was constantly bombarded with notifications, so checking one and acting out was easy.

All while letting the poor Krogan simmer in his armor and juice, so needy. But Remus was right that he didn't have time to enjoy his just revenge... At most, he had time to take a piss.

But then Targ gave in and went on his knees. As usual, the Krogan's large jaw and extended gullet made it perfect for them to suck. Their teeth were mostly flat, fit for a herbivore, lest for the few having them carved then sharpened. Nothing like that happened to Targ. His mouth was warm, velvety, and devoid of any scrapping. Within the sucking lips, almost air-tight, the tongue rolled against the half-hard length and cleaned off the remains of cum, anal lubricants, sweat...

Perhaps it would disturb many to taste those foul juices, but Targ got a kick out of it with how much he grumbled and moaned. The massive form shivered with appreciation.

Even more so when the acrid liquid poured out from the Turian's urethra right into that throat. A liquid evidently salty, warm in mouth, with a slightly acidic taste. A taste Remus had heard for hours from his dad, who had asked him to stop his increasing consumption of energy drinks and beer.

Which was silly because even Targ appreciated its raw flavour, exemplified by his moans, whose intensity had nearly quadrupled.

A symphony of gasps and muffled exhalation that sadly had to stop. Remus' bladder wasn't infinite, and in a matter of seconds, he was pulling back his cleaned-up cock. It still reeked of musk, saliva, and now some ryncol. But that was enough for Remus to remove his hard-on from that eager mouth and look down on those pleading red eyes.

In other circumstances...

"You did well, slut. Next time, leave your dogs at the entrance," commented Remus patting the turtle-like alien and putting his dick back in his pants, despite the utter raw sensation of leather rubbing against his sensitive glans. A trouble he had to deal with as he walked to his car. And left behind the humiliated Blood pack veteran.

The poor sod even attempted to give an order, "Remus! Come back!" In vain.

For as soon as he entered the vehicle and validated the onward course, the skycar flew off the ground on a trajectory calculated in advance, leaving Remus able to relax. And hit send on his omnitool, so satisfied with his little stunt.

Even if the weapons delivery had become smooth rides, the Turian hadn't forgiven the cocky Krogan for their first and humiliating meeting, nor the way he talked to his dad. And it felt rewarding to mess with that big lug who had been after "blue blood" before his introduction to the "Genophage cure". Didn't feel like a cure to Remus, but watching his Dad's voluptuous body, or bastards being taken down a peg, was so satisfying.

As satisfying as hearing his omnitool's ringtone and the following voice:

"Damn you, Remus."

"Whaaaat?"

"Did you have to do this in your recording?" bluntly growled Velius, always eager to criticize the "recordings" once getting his post-nut clarity.

"Do whaaaat?" continued the young Turian, reclining on his seat.

"Do... To piss."

"Ah, take a piss in his mouth? Of course, I had!"

"Why, if I may ask?"

"You wouldn't enjoy it as much, your pants must be tense with your stiffy," continued Remus with a sneering tone, pointing at Velius in a teasing way. He loved to mess with him but not get on his wrong side. Not since... Well. Months?

"That's not...-"

" What do you think of Targ?" interrupted Remus while pressing the back of his head against the seat, carefully placing the headrest below his crest.

"He. Is something. Is anyone else reacting the same way as he does?"

"Not from what I understand, most are pliable in the following days. But none works with the Blood pack..."

"Ah, peer pressure. We should test that."

"Yeah."

Not even checking the traffic, Remus observed the skyline above, hung to the ceiling, while his car glided through without any hitch. Above, he saw the same massive skyscrapers with their upside-down pools and neon lights, the constant flow of rich corporates enjoying their little enclaves and private security.

Velius was undoubtedly holed up in a similar place.

"Are you listening, Remus?"

Called out, the Turian returned to the screen, watching the ivory-plated counterpart scowl and hearing his mandible click.

"Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?"

"I already have plenty of data about the cure, more is unnecessary and uncalled. If there are too many Krogans under treatment, it may be dan-"

"Nonsense. What were you talking about?"

The Turian sighed, tilting his head forward. Enough for Remus to see something looking like a bed behind and a form sleeping in it. Ah well.

"I have another batch ready, the last until I get the new data off-world."

"Noted. Anything else?"

"Hmm... You could be doing the... Piercings thing you're doing with your Dad on the P-"

"Ah, sorry, I can't hear you! It- Must- Be-... Kziik.... Kzii... Connecti-" faked Remus, clenching his jaw.

"Don't do that on m-"

And yet, with a flick of the finger, he cut the call. And exhaled.

Honestly, it was feeling weirder and weirder interacting with Velius. He was a government agent, but he was a pervert too. However, he wasn't looking to get with a Krogan himself and seemed frantically afraid to be caught for his fetishes. Sending videos and nagging him was fun. Commands? Less so.

"Bummer," growled Remus while massaging the back of his head. Not yet. Not before it was all good.

Not before he was sure they could have a good life. Even if it was exhausting and draining, leaving the young Turian unable to rest properly...

Only the sound of Kror's breath or the purring of his car allowed him to sleep, their vibrations rocking him like nothing else. And not even a recording did the shit.

His arms crossed, his head pressed against the headrest. And he closed his eyes.

He felt the tension in his hands, the slight shivers of withdrawal. The tinge of his muscles... The lack of music and the silence as he had turned the sound emulator off. He wished he could have turned off the smart windows too, but so long as the car drove itself, he couldn't do that.

Cradled by the lights, the sound, the vibrations. He drifted and dreamed. Dreamed of something better.

Of an infinity to explore.

"A world whose air you can breathe! Where you can eat as much as desired! A sky populated with an infinity of stars! Build your future today, become a part of something whole. Join the Valhallan builders."

On the screen appeared fields of verdant green, with beasts similar to human goats grazing them. Shepherding them was an asari in a rustic flax attire, a straw hat on her head before the wind blew it away... And carried through what was to be a sprawling city built from prefabs with so many species. Their chatters were muted, but they smiled more than anyone had done so in Omega.

"Kror! Kror! I wanna go! Look!" pointed Remus with a shrill voice and a trembling digit. He felt the gazes of many upon him, and mostly Kror. Followed by heavy hands lifting the scrawny turian off the ground who kept pointing to the video, looped back to the verdant fields.

"Look! Where is? Wanna go?" he asked, unable to find the words in common. He could have used Turian, but Kror hated the translation software and never used one. So Remus had to limit, to scramble on his words of a language barely adapted to his vocal cords.

"No, it's too far from Omega, Remus. We can't go there-"

THUNG! THUNG! THUNG!

"Move your fucking car!"

THUNG! THUNG! THUNG!

Stirring from his sleep, the Turian blinked twice, his eyes adjusted to the neon lights all around his turned-on car. And then adjusted to the human in armor on his right, a mercenary of unknown origin whose graying face had turned into a scowl while he kicked the car. And for reasons: behind Remus, many cars honked and attempted to advance.

His car was on the way, the computer probably stuck instead of taking left toward the Afterlife in lieu of staying in the middle of the barred tunnel.

Stretching and rubbing his face, Remus casually took control and swerved to the left while blowing the engine's repulsor right into the human mercenary. From a quick glance at the rearview screen, he saw the old man's surprised expression, a delight for the young Turian.

"Serves him right," he even scoffed while the vehicle flew through the narrow squeak of a tunnel, having to keep himself at a low pace lest he would scrape against the exposed pipes. A shame if he ruined the coat of his topaz on his way to the Afterlife.

A massive bar, the biggest even. It was like a tumor, crawling and growing while devouring the surrounding habitations blocks and turning them into sections of increasing depravity in its encroachment. At the center of the structure, like a queen bee, remained Aria T'loak, the "Leader" of Omega, around which pressed mercenaries, combatants, and political "refugees". And dealing in the Asari's territory was seen as an impossible prospect, especially if you were selling with hard drugs or products she was unaware of.

But Remus...

Well, he had a way. His fingers went inside his vest to check the vials, ensuring their presence as he parked near one of the Afterline's back entrances. A tad too close to the center and the bitch, but far enough, he wasn't dealing with Aria's goons. After all, he wasn't a drug dealer, supposedly.

A façade he maintained by being an avid drinker here, enough for the Krogan bouncers to let him in without a check or making him wait. Or there was another reason...

They smelled like bitches in heat, drowning in their fluids, and one nodded to Remus.

"Patriarch is waiting for you."

Five words, a whisper. Enough to plaster a stupid grin on the Turian's face as he climbed the stairs leading to the main room. The music was loud, electronic, and deafening with vocals so far drowned into the artificial noises it was impossible to tell the original language.

The sound rattled, rummaged through one's brain, and brought to worst to the people there. Especially when alcohol was on the line and the bar always available with its exorbitant prizes.

"Hey Remus, here for a delivery?" prompted one of the regulars barkeeper, a batarian. A guy who always had it out for humans and poisoned their drinks before one of them forced him to empty a glass of his own concoction. The man nearly died and lost a kidney from his recount, but he no longer spiked the drinks.

And tried not to be a cunt with everyone around.

"Yeah, Patriarch is "waiting" me," commented Remus approaching then leaning over the counter, only to be welcomed with a fresh bottle of beer.

"Ah, you're late. Two clients entered his cabin twenty minutes ago."

"Damn? Do you think it'll take long? He made me rush a nice moment just for his sorry ass."

"Don't know. You're better off waiting. So many people are coming to see him nowadays. But I don't hear his lengthy tales anymore."

"He's too busy choking on Aria's dick," grumbled Remus. It was half a lie, after all.

"Tell me about it. You look awful for a Turian. Or is this your natural face?"

Remus grumbled, tapping his claw against the bottle. He was looking awful and tired, and that place didn't help... Although, that place had been worst off. There were next to no barfights lately, whereas, before, a Krogan would start one either by being assailing or overreacting. But with the flow of "cure" going through that floor, they all looked more servile, slutty, horny...

And honestly, watching those burly brutes acting all needy around Turians had its effects on the population.

"Natural face: "Resting bitch face", you know it? Well, I'm not resting, and it's a bitch face."

"Ouh. You really went out to be here in time. You want me to call the Patriarch?"

"Heh... Pass."

"Then you'll wallow in self-pity? Let me open the beer for you," mused the Batarian before opening the bottle.

"Thanks, you know how to help."

"Sure, am. What's happening?"

"Urf. Nothing, just looking to get done with those runs. It's awfully calm here," commented Remus... Although the music was still ear-drilling. How that guy managed to stand it?

"It is. Patriarch has finally stepped up to his role. That's what I see... Ever since I've worked there, I've never seen krogans be so tame."

"Ah, poor soul. You want me to tell Grandpa to unleash them?"

"And lose my knees? Not! Nope!"

The reaction was expected, but both laughed whole-heartedly while Remus lifted his bottle and took a swig. The liquid was fresh, bubbly, slightly acrid, yet perfect. And he sighed, his mandibles clicking.

"I ought to know where you get that stuff," started the Turian by raising his bottle, watching the nondescript bottle devoid of any indication.

"Can't. I'm not working on the delivery, and it has to be a deal, everyone nags me about it."

"Shame. We're forced to deal with that crap outside while there's that golden nectar here!"

With a grin, the Turian lifted the bottle in balance on one palm while the other hand pointed at it like the new messiah.

"Repent! The end times will come, not with a bang, but with your new god, the Afterlife's beer!"

"Amen."

"Its freshness will save your souls, taste the savor that will expiate your sins!"

"Amen."

"For its presence will cure all your ailments, save Omega, and bring peace in the whole galaxy."

"Amen. You're imitating him, right?"

"Who?"

"The mad guy near the markets."

"Hah, no. Not really, I felt inspired."

"You really don't want me to ring him instead of rambling on some swirl?"

"Heeeeeh... Yes? No? Let me offer those misguided souls a prayer, and I'll go."

"Ame... Directly?"

"Directly. And put the beer on his tab, I intend to keep mine clean."

Remus grinned like an idiot in front of the Batarian, watching those four brows lower over the black eyes before the barman sighed and nodded.

Good enough.

Left to his own device, the Turian took another swig and straightened himself out before turning towards Patriarch's private booth. A better term could define the soundproofed apartment-sized room in its nook of the afterlife. With only a meager reinforced door to separate it from the whole building, it still acted as a sort of blackbox to any outsider who wasn't keen on what happened there.

Luckily for Remus, he not only had access to it but had the disrespect to tap the code opening the door while the old Krogan was surely head-deep into something.

And traded a world of high-end booze and deafening music for one of lowkey suave atmosphere and the raw scent of sex.

"What?! I said I didn't want to be bothered!"

Suddenly called out a voice from afar as the door closed behind Remus, plunging him into a dimly lit ambiance. The ceiling was quite high, with the ventilation working double while little lamps offered an inkling of lighting. Their faint presence barely permitted Remus to see the multiple couches disposed here and there, the discrete door leading to a bathroom... And finally, on his right, a bed occupying almost eighty percent of the room's width by its sheer presence.

"Too bad you made run here and then wait."

And from what Remus could see, there were three people on it.

Two Turians, muscular with gray scales covering their lithe forms. They could have been pole dancers as much as simple entertainers, or gigolos, for the Afterlife. Yet, they were both nursing on the third in the middle, their legs intertwined as the massive creature in between had their legs lifted and was forced to bear the regular pace of both dextros fucking that hole in tandem.

A hundred year ago, Patriach had been known as the ruler of Omega. The king of the asteroid before Aria overthrew him. Like anyone privy of it, Remus knew the story of Aria appearing one day on the Afterlife's doorsteps as a dancer, gathered favors, and vanquished the Krogan before keeping him as a trophy. An old broken Krogan to pity and consider as a warning tale.

Though Remus now knew of a different version of that man.

A buxom slut whose leaking tits were hungrily chewed on by the current attendants, feeding them with that tasty liquid and adapted to Turian physiology. A whore whose belly was kept round with cum, hiding away his limp cock and swollen quads, but not that constantly gaped cunt of an ass.

Though today, Patriarch had selected to wear some make-up, and the long trail of black mascara over his cheeks was... Surprising.

But who was Remus to stop an old krogan from finally embracing the energy and the "heat" of a four-hundredth-years younger male? The original pitch that got him inside the Afterlife and to make the old male drink the liquid.

Now, it wasn't passing a week without Patriarch ordering another set of vials for some friends or his personal consumption, as if it would maintain his libido. Or perhaps he was addicted to the urging rush whenever he drank it?

Nonetheless, Remus began to pull the vials out of his vest, three containers filled with a bubbling pink liquid that seemed already instable and would probably burst soon if not kept in a storage unit.

"If you hadn't pressed me, I would have prepared the product... But you can have your fun."

Argued Remus, as he walked within the obscure place, his steps heavy with purpose. He approached the tiny fridge on the side of one couch, stuffing the vials inside before plopping somewhere comfy.

But it seemed the Patriarch had lost all wits to answer if not with grunts and groans, gasps and muttered entreaties. Pleas he shouted so loud and so gutturally even Remus couldn't pick them up. But he had an inkling it meant "Continue", as the turians whores kept fucking and stretching the Krogan's hole with gusto.

Beneath the three, the bed crinkled and squeaked. But the furniture bore the weight and the violence of the abuse. The Turians, seemingly related as seen by their color and their markings, were both nibbling Patriarch's swollen teats. From their pinching, they coaxed more of that pearly white liquid they slurped and swallowed, the same way the Krogan's cunt swallowed their dicks and stroked the pulled-out dicks before they were pushed back inside.

The best was to hear the faint sloshing coming from the Krogan swollen belly, watching that rotund gut giggle with an obvious outie.

In Remus' opinion, a piercing through would look lovely. But he kept his thoughts to himself, leaning back and rubbing his crotch. He had to admit watching that old Krogan being railed by two turians was so good. He heeded his screams whenever one of those blue and greasy cocks pushed through the softened rim. He watched the said rim being worked so tightly it was thinned out and yet formed a delicious vertical split. He smelled the scent of cum and precum mixing with the pungent perfume of anal lubricant.

It stirred something in his pants: a need, a desire. An expanding lust threatening Remus to give in as his bulge became rock-hard and humid. Beneath the pants, against his palm, he felt his dick's warmth along with his churning nuts, both straining the fabric.

"Ahh! More! Fuck me! I'm a good Whore! Fuck me!" roared the elderly, his face so thrown back it was impossible to see his mollified features from Remus' position. But hearing the staccato in that shrill voice was good enough. The Krogan's hole clenched on those dicks, projecting ropes of viscous fluids on the bed, whereas a translucent precum formed a rivulet whose source was the ridiculous limp dick. The Patriarch had reached his day's high with enough cries to deafen those entertainers a bit. Albeit no one outside would hear anything from it...

Those stubby feet curled their two toes, his form relaxing in the Turians' embrace who didn't stop from suckling his nips or holding his body. Their hands worked out those scales, massaged the elder's round belly.

A beautiful sight. But no one besides those in the secret would see Patriarch's true face... It would have done quite a hit to the "Tough Krogans" reputation.

Most would be outraged to know the Patriarch had become nothing but a Turian slut, suckling on blue dicks whenever given the occasion. And advertising the "Cure" to his friend. He had to thank Rahn for giving him the opportunity to meet that grandpa. His eyes drawn to his beer, he took a sip then returned to the Patriarch's krogandhood: The liquid was almost like water, nothing more.

And before that orgasm receded, Patriarch's throat released a few heaves and whimpers with that sonorous voice. Next, he waved his hands to send the Gigolos off. And with it, a resonant SLURP filled the room as both males pulled out, the hole ruined in their leave, each scowling at Remus.

Was it anger? Envy? Or something? Nonetheless, Remus lifted his half-emptied beer to them and then returned to the old man sprawled over his bed like a starfish.

The brown-scaled krogan reeked more than the room, his body was a mess. Waft of his fragrance scoured the room, carried by the steam emanating from this massive body... Especially his gaped and collapsing rim, which sourced rivulets of cum ending on the synthetic bedding. A nice view, a familiar one.

However, a gruff whisper took Remus' focus away. The massive beast rolled onto the sheet, taking everything away. Until remained that fattened, fat-tittied, grunting, and elderly Patriarch.

His eyes, squinting, were all over Remus, who was not only reclining but putting his dirty shoes on the sofa, the idle arm passed over the couch's back.

"You should have waited."

"What? Wait outside and miss out Patriarch railed by two Turians? Spirits no," jested back Remus while extending an arm to tap the Mini-fridge's top with an endearing smile.

"And if it was Aria inside? What would have happened?"

"I knew it wasn't her... And I would have told her I'm here to fuck you... She cares about you now?"

With a sigh, the Krogan pushed with his knees, standing up with many grunts.

"Don't say that lightly. She has doubts about me and my loyalty, as she says, even if I cleaned up the traces."

"You should ask your guys to stop leaving your room naked... Are they on Aria's payroll?"

"Mine. I am not crazy to put it on hers."

"See, you know how to handle her. She's mean, she's cold... But as long as you don't hurt her, she won't lift a finger, right?"

"It's more complicated, lad. She always sees the big picture."

"And not that big ass... Seriously, what does this mean?"

"Imagine. If enough Krogans were taking your fix, what would it happen?"

"More would be happier?" answered Remus with a laugh and by raising his shoulders. He, then, brought the bottle to his lips... And shook it, empty.

Another sigh.

"Take one from the fridge. But what would happen if most of the Krogans in the Blood Pack took it."

"Hmm, they'd be weakened, overrun by Vorchas, and their territory stolen by other gangs."

"It's like when the Ravens lost their grip on the mines. They were too unstable, and other gangs moved in. It broke Omega's balance, and I had to clean the station. That's what lead me to not check on Aria."

"And she would notice all that jazz."

"Of course, she will. She has eyes everywhere."

Still searching through the fridge and pushing the vials aside, Remus retrieved one of those nondescript bottles, whose color indicated it was safe for Turian consumption, before he opened it with a claw and sipped.

"You are always ready for your little whores, funny," remarked Remus with that silly grin. He was still hunched over the fridge, his lower side on the sofa while he glanced at the elderly trudging through the room.

"But again... I'm not the one producing it or selling it. I'm a poor, poor middleman without any importance. You're not handling that stuff to anyone, right?"

The old Krogan froze and scratched his saliva-caked nips, avoiding Remus' eyes.

"I... May have offered it to some of my old friends, who had issues."

"Someone in particular?" prompted Remus with a cocked eyebrow while the long march resumed. But when the silence became too long, he plopped on his feet and followed to heed the Krogan despite the distance... Or the bathroom wall.

"None you know. They're not big names, not anymore. And some are like me, too old to fight like pups."

"Instead, they'll be running in circles with a raging boner, got it." chuckled the Turian. He leaned against the fine wall separating the two rooms and heard the faint sound of running water.

But no words, only silence.

Except for the wheezes, winces, moans, grunts coming from the elderly under the water. It was probably more difficult for the Patriarch with his stiff articulation, but Remus wasn't there to offer backrubs or turn into an aide.

When the water stopped, Remus grumbled a few words: "The next batch will be smaller, and the last."

The steps in the bathroom stopped, along with the noise. And through the wall, he heeded the Krogan's ragged breath.

"Are you sure? What happened?"

"My source doesn't have any backing anymore. He's running short on chemicals for the production... Or so he tells me."

"And what will you do for that?"

"I can't do anything. He's my sole source. I guess dealing is over," replied Remus scratching his neck... That place was sore. It would be for a long time.

"You could be making big money. Your fix, it's the new red Sand. If there was another source, he could even strike a deal with Aria."

"No luck Patriarch. I guess I'll just hole up somewhere after that."

It was true... He didn't need to check the different accounts provided by Velius, but he had enough credits by now. Enough to cover the price of the surgery and perhaps a place more befitting to them.

"You sure? Retirement doesn't work well for middlemen and drug lords. And I pay you only a quarter of what the drug is worth. Who are your other clients? I want their batches."

The door opened on the Krogan, steaming but not from bodily fluids. His brown scales had the tinge of oxidized copper, and the shimmering color looked clean on his naked body once grime had been washed off.

"I am. And I can't give you more. You're the only one I deal with frequently. And also the one to accept my conditions."

Confirming this, the Krogan plodded again. But towards one table close to the entrance. On it had been aligned a few tablets, with one Patriarch picked and extended toward Remus. Who stepped along and took it.

"It's a shame it has to end. Here's your payment and the information on the clients. As I said, they're not big names, and there's all the data."

"Thanks, Patriarch, it's a plea-"

"Once you retrieve the payment for the final vials, I don't want to see you in that room again. Not without that cure. We cut ties entirely, got it?"

From the placid tone to that aggressive speech, the mood shift caught Remus off guard. And with a loud gulp, he retrieved the tablet with both hands... And nodded.

"Huh... Got it. No contact after that. Good... Huh. Good, good."

"... Leave, I have a new client."

With this, Patriarch pointed out the door with his naked frame, guiding Remus through it. A few steps later, the metallic door closed behind Remus with a loud clang, leaving him to face the music again.

To hear the electronic music shake his bones and nerves, to smell the pricey booze on every table... The tablet in hand, the other holding the bottle, the Turian walked off.

Toward the exit, toward his car, toward his peace. His feet hurt as he approached the door and checked around him, the parking spot vacated by most.

With an exhalation, he plopped on his driver's seat, closed the door, opened a channel towards his bank....

WHACK!

Only for his world to fade to black.