FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In a darkened street, afar from the nightclubs' crowds or the affluent markets, a man stepped closer to a skycar parked there. Its engines silenced, although music managed to pierce through the reinforced doors.

And inside it... A driver lost in his little dances.

_Lost! Lost! Lost! _

Far in the stars, where no one cares!

Lost! Lost! Lost!

A cry in despair, for those who fear!

Lost! Lost! Lost!

I am an earthbound, propelled interstellar!

Plucked away, a fruit of def- SLAM!

Suddenly, Remus jolted on his siege from the intrusion and turned off the music. He glanced on his right, over his shoulder, towards the passenger's seat. On the stained leather were some leftovers of his last meal, with antique CD cases in between that medley.

Happily enough, nothing his current client could see, thanks to the partition separating the skycar in two, usual for taxis in Omega.

He glanced at the rearview mirror, adjusted it. And saw the Turian in the backseat. Alone except for his formal attire: a smart black suit underlining his collar with few touches of blues, the undershirt dyed gold. And the suitcase he placed beside him.

"Good afternoon, Sir! Dashing, aren't we? Where do you want to go?" started Remus with a smile to the mirror, trying to be welcoming to that Turian... Who seemed to have kept his metaphorical stick in the butt.

The man darted his verdant green eyes to Remus, his mandibles clicking in exasperation.

"To the docking bay L9."

His exoskeleton and crest were of pure white, almost ivory. No dirt, no dust, and pristine golden lines had been etched over his eyes and lips commissures. Habitually, those markings would mean someone came from a colony... But those marks, they meant jack-shit to Remus.

"Okay, sir! Leisure or urgent?"

"It's not urgent." closed the man, no longer caring for the driver.

Another weird and shitty run, but that guy was sure to pay with how pricey his costume was. However, it threw Remus off as the man gazed into the tinted glass, a surface as dark as night until Remus turned on the contact. In return, the Skycar hummed and purred, its engine warming up. A second after, the vehicle lifted off the ground.

And then, the tinted surfaces disappeared. No more roofs, no more windows, just an open view of the world around them.

Omega.

Crooning and taping over the controls, Remus let his mandibles click and tap against his dark bones. And the vehicle flew off its parking spot towards the tight screens riddled with corners and traps between the towering habitations blocks: gigantic structures of steel and plastics, sprouting constantly and falling just as swiftly.

A churning chaos where a prefab could suddenly block a major highway, a bridge fall onto your home, or a parking spot become a squat for a gang.

That was how it worked with Omega.

Formerly a mining asteroid within the Terminus System before the extraction hollowed it out. There, miners and criminals built their homes, living off the stream of blue gold that was Eezo, a common finding within that rock. Eezo that would aliment the galaxy: from the righteous and pompous Citadel-dwellers to the mercenaries and gangs dwelling in the nearby systems.

And criminals... Remus knew how they worked.

Before he could ruminate further, the traffic increased in intensity. Cars inched closer, almost bumping one against another. And finally, the buildings disappeared, the streets opened up on an enormous cavern: the Adastra Opening. A massive hole within Omega. Big enough that buildings were hanging from the ceiling. And yet never touch those below. Leaving the massive space all for the drivers, like him, and for his clients to be swooned by the rustic beauty of such an engineering feat..

At times, he would even take his loyal Elkoss Topaz skycar for a spin there just for the sight.

But today...

Looking at his customers through the mirror, his golden eyes were fixated on the dejected Turian. Legs crossed, arm leaning against the window... He was disinterested.

Usually, people were gushing about the bars above and below, the innumerable holo signs, or structures with a reversed gravity like some pools over their heads. But not that guy.

"Hey. You're going off Omega? Finally done with that rock?" asked Remus, as he noticed something in his peripheral vision and sped off.

"Hey, I said slowly."

"Sorry, Sir, it's for our security," replied Remus while glancing at the side cameras on his monitor. Hopefully, he had shaken off that other car. "Buuuuut... L9, that's quite far."

"I do not need to stay here any longer."

"Ah, understand. Business, right?" continued the young male, his mandible clicking with interest. Meanwhile, his eyes checked the announce feeds to see if their path had been barred.

"It is. Why are you asking?"

"Ah, nothing! Sir! Driving is more fun when you have someone to talk to."

"Usually, on Palaven, drivers don't talk."

Right... Stick in the butt. That gruff tone killed the exchange, and Remus sighed. His focus returned to his screens. The car tailing him had disappeared from his cameras, but the security was to keep that pace until they reached a checkpoint. Slowing down was dooming them to a fender-bender and a guided crash course towards a planned spot below. Many gangs in Omega used that tactic to attack taxis that didn't pay for their "monthly" protection.

And Remus didn't have the mean to pay for any of that shit.

His blue vest showed signs of wear and tear, and it had been years since he had worn anything to cover his collarbone like a proper Turian citizen. His shirt was ragged, his grey pants dirty, while his shoes were a month away from being unusable.

But again, he was among the luckiest here. His scales were dark, but without any infection; his bare face had nothing broken... And contrary to his lanky appearance, he was not famished.

"I don't recognize your accent. Were you born on a terminus planet?"

Surprised by the question, not expecting the man to ask anything, Remus almost missed the passage and swerved to the right. Violently enough for the engine to tremble for half a second.

"Hah, hell no. Born here, on Omega. Somewhere in the Baya district."

"Fascinating. And you haven't left that hellhole yet?"

"Nope! It's the place I come from, and I'm used to it. I have my family there, friends, my job."

With a grin, the driver stroked the purring metal while looking at the rearview mirror, his client now intrigued in askance.

"I see. I can hardly imagine how it is to live with all the criminals roaming the streets. Blue sun, Eclipse..."

"Oh, those. They're a whole different animal."

Laughing, the Turian turned to the left without as much emphasis as before. And with his pace calmer as the streets closed upon them. Leaving Adastra behind, the Sky car glided into the tunnels made of rock and habitations, barely lit by any neon tubes.

"Only people from Citadel space are afraid of them. Usually, they remain in their spots, and you pay a fee for their "protection". But they're not lawless bastards like small gangs, you know?" commented Remus by air-quoting. "If you're in a community, they leave you do your job. Like, they won't ask to pay if you're a doctor, but they may come and asks for drugs."

"And you? You are no doctor."

"No, but I have friends who can protect me. You're perspicacious, sir."

"You don't have to flatter me. I see what you are."

Another swerve on the right, the tunnels closing on them. All rocks and plumbings.

"Yeah? I don't even see what I am. Just a guy lucky to have a car."

"Perhaps. You could have been a soldier if you were born on Palavan or an engineer. But here, you seem to be in your element. That's enviable."

"Heh. You should have tried a human driver, those apes really have a knack for breaking the ice. But, thanks... Sir. We should be at the docking bay soon."

Another swerve and lights welcomed them.

Red neons, at full blast, who could have blinded anyone looking at them. That was their welcome as they pushed through and ended above the docks. Below, multiples ships were ready to depart: people rushed to embark. Although one of them, a small asari transit ship, had a long and ordained queue surrounded by Eclipse Mercenaries adorned with their yellow armors, and surrounded by their mechas.

They were no the type Remus mingled with. And it was with a wide berth that he landed, but close enough of a stairwell leading to the docks. Nobody was around their spots, no vagrants or anything else. Aaaand the young Turian turned towards his customer who was impatient to get out...

"Hmm... You have to pay, sir." commented Remus, his index towards a small box attached behind a siege and displaying a rather hefty sum.

Generally, customers would haggle and try to lower the price... But not the jumpy Turian as he approached his omnitool, waited for the transaction to be done... And left the vehicle. Not walking, not running, but almost jumping from step to step. A flight in which he disappeared... Leaving the suitcase behind.

"Fuck me."

Surely, that guy would return, right?

And yet, after waiting for almost half an hour, Remus was certain nobody would come back to the suitcase. The ships had departed and been replaced twice already. The Eclipse mercenaries had vacated the dock and passed by... Close enough, he had to kill the engine and stay in his vehicle silently while he looked at the suitcase on the passenger seat.

Contrary to most recent models, that suitcase possessed no real security, no electronic lock, nothing... But a mechanical lock that had to be turned. And for the case to spring open, almost falling if not for the Turian's deft hands.

That kind of case... It could not be detected as it contained no electronic... As for its content, Remus was sure it couldn't be checked either.

Vials... Two dozen medical vials, arranged in rows, maintained by the padded slots they were stored in. Not only had his last customer been strange, but this... This was the cherry on top.

Each glass vial, except for one, contained a bright pink liquid that shimmered whenever Remus shook it. A liquid without any indication, note, or name. From afar, it would pass as cheap Quarian booze or one of those sugary drinks young Asaris and Humans were fussing about.

A concerning comparison for the Turian who quickly closed the case... And grunted.

For all his run to his home, Remus had kept his scowl. Nothing managed to lighten his mood, not the absence of the Blue sun's barrage on his way or the peace within the Blood Pack's turf. His growl compilation even bothered him.

On other days, he would have taken a quick detour through the Anyang district to see the rare luxurious gardens tended by asaris matrons, yet he sped off that time. And only stopped when the tunnels disappeared to let the way for the familiar habitations block, a nook of familiarity amidst the chaos that was Omega.

Descending, his car encountered the cold parking ground. And before the engine turned off entirely, Remus jumped out. Today's thrash in hands, he threw them over a fence nearby and stomped towards the central market, with the suitcase tightly clutched.

Stands of vat-grown proteins and vitamin bars, some for soil-grown fruits, and even one for meat that was not of "unknown" origin. Almost a luxury when Vorcha meat often passed as "Beef". And he had no way to return home but to pass through this.

"Hey, Remus! Can you give your dad that piles of junk? And my salutation?"

Suddenly called out, the Turian stopped to see an Asari at her stand on his right. Avay. Greasemonkey would have been the human term to describe her with all the grime covering her blue skin and the graying tentacles on her heard. She was a matriarch Asari, way past the age of scouring junkyards. But never acted as she should, and her wisdom was more about cold pragmatism. And, of course, she always found the best salvages to sell on this market or another.

Receiving a command from her wasn't a surprise, though this time he came to regret it as he was entrusted a bag clanging from its heavy... Massive content. Enough for him to be squatting under the weight while she had been lifting it with one hand.

"Thanks, sweety. You know how my bad back is killing me."

"N- No problem Avay."

He huffed, puffed, pushed with his arms and carried the bag in exertion, no longer able to worry about the case. And there, he had to waddle through the stands once more. He nodded to that human woman, Nana, who had been looking for him when younger; Beran, a Batarian whose four eyes were always gleaming at the sight of credits for his homegrown vegetables; And the bastard Legius, with his dusty Blue sun armor, at the security.

Familiar faces that passed as he finally entered one of the buildings, met with refuses... And an elevator on the fritz.

"Spirits, not again!" cussed the young turian while depositing what he held to hit the buttons. No dice.

"Grmbl. Bastard, he should have repaired it!"

With a grunt, Remus had to take the second option. And a flight of stairs later, a very exhausted soul managed to land on the right floor, right in front of his place... Whose door had been left wide open. From the threshold blared some Death metal, the growl audible from there.

And the source of it... He knew it too well.

Beyond the kitchen with the used and dirty appurtenances, the bedrooms wide open and barely liveable... There was the living room, the typical den of a pack rat with an entire hole cut through one of the outer walls.

And a sort of workshop beyond, another room built and parasitising the building. Honestly, Remus was unsure how the steel beams bore all the weight from the steel and junk in that massive room. Although nothing budged, even when augmented sky cars passed by... Or one exploded.

A tedious structure. Whose creator stood at its usual working table, surrounded by a torrent of music.

Like most of his species, Kror towered above Remus, akin to a monster of deep red scales and metal. His hump had a purple hue, while his carapace had a yellowy tinge adding to his appearance of a feet-mounted tank. Except a tank armed with welding spectacle and a torch, working on another of his project with next to no protection to cover his scars-ridden chest.

Shot, blades, even a frag grenade, they had graced the man and left their signatures behind.

And he was seemingly keen on adding more with his disregard for protections.

"Hey! Dad!" crudely called Remus, even though the music drowned his words.

"Dumbass!" he continued, kicking the door behind him prior to approaching the workshop.

"Kror! Idiot!"

Again, no dice. But since he was so close, Remus threw the bag on the table, making it shake... And attracting the gazes of those spectacles.

"What is that shit?!" blurted the Krogan.

"Avay is saying Hello!"

"WHAT?"

Without a care, Remus brought his wrist-mounted omnitool before his eyes and cut the radio feed, offering silence to the workshop... And probably a relief to the whole condo. Even if nobody dared to live below their apartment, Remus was certain everyone in the neighborhood heard the growl...

"Avay is saying Hello!"

"Ah, yes! She's damn sweet, she got me some compressors?"

Remus shrugged and watched his Dad focus on the bag. Those clawed hands extricated every bit of metal in it: some he threw by the open window, uncaring to anyone below; some he placed delicately on the table while muttering to himself.

That's... How it works with Kror. Remus' adopted dad, junkrat, ex-mercenary. Remus had never seen his real dad except in videos, photos, and trinkets. All coming from the Krogan, of course. They had worked together for years in the Blood Pack, despite the bias against Turians within the gang. And Kror always praised how that "Bird-brain" managed to instill fear.

But before the old man could retire, someone from the Blood pack offed him. His mother had disappeared too, leaving Remus... And Kror, who had to step in by giving up fighting and doing crimes.... Instead of crafting weapons and doing war crimes, indirectly. Odd circumstances.

"You know, the elevator is dead. Again."

"And?" answered the old Krogan, all too focused on his search to care, to Remus' annoyance.

"It's up to you to fix it. Last time I checked, I almost burned my hand."

"That's alright, you have another hand."

Despite the Krogan's chuckling, Remus huffed and moved to throw the case in his room before doing a pass to the kitchen. A pan had recently been used, and it reeked of burnt oil, leaving the Turian to turn on the water while checking the mostly-empty fridge. And take one of his last favorite beer cans.

The advantage of a two-chilarity household: Kror never dared to steal drinks or food from him. And if he did, whether the reasons, he ended up regretting it, him and his redundant kidneys.

"Sooo... How was your day? Got clients?"

"Heh, three. Not much. I would get more if I did errands for the Blue suns. Legius asked me if I could fill in."

"And in a matter of days, you'll wear their markings and spotless blue gear. They're not a "Private security organization", they're gang. And bad news."

In a screech, the can opened, and Remus took a chug and sighed from the so-much-needed soul lubrication. While his dad moved away from his work table... And the Turian looked away.

In an unprecedented act of fashion, Kror always took the opportunity to go commando. And in a place where pants were more of a recommendation than a rule, it ended with an elderly Krogan walking around with his quads and junk out. A sight Remus tentatively avoided as he glanced at the turned-off television... And turned it on with a sweep of his omnitool.

"Plus, you don't need money. My gig is paying plenty for that place."

The Kror's had moved away, along with a door closing. And the sound of a liquid pouring, forcing the Turian to grimace as he watched the news: an incident from an asari vessel that had left Omega with 83 passengers before its eezo core imploded. Due to its close proximity, the explosion also destroyed three other ships and totaled the number of deaths to 430.

Terrible news, if it wasn't erased by the constant murders and explosions occurring on Omega, a speck in the statistics. But the information that caught the Turian's eyes was the docking bay the ship came from... L9.

"Well..."

"You said something?"

Startled, Remus almost jumped as Kror stood beside him, with a short to cover his privates. The Krogan's red eyes were thin and onto Remus, fighting against gravity, and his falling beer can.

"Nothing! I was thinking about something."

"Bah... Don't make yourself some bad blood, I'll pay for everything you need. That's what your father wanted me to do. Let's see the elevator, shall we?"

"Sure!"

Beverage in hand and sure he had not spilled any, the Turian followed.

For fifteen minutes later, to find himself bored out of his mind, slouching against the elevator's back. He had emptied the can, but Remus kept shaking it like there was liquid while glancing down at his father crouching and working the cablings.

Usually, it took three minutes for Kror to find the issue. But not today, it seemed the Krogan was at a loss, and Remus wasn't of any help.

He knew how to drive, to quickly jumpstart his car, even to tweak his Elkoss Topaz's engine. Buuuut electronics always flew above his head, even during school.

Well, he had never been quite good in school. The old-ass matriarchs always thought it nice to remind the class of his Krogan father and nag him. Though the Turians were no-...

Surprised by a sight near the condo's entrance, Remus straightened and stretched his neck before tapping his Dad's shoulder.

"What?"

"'Gonna buy groceries for tonight, I'm useless here."

"Okay. Don't forget my beer that time!"

"Aye, Sir!"

The old Krogan returned to his work and grumbled. But also chuckled as Remus passed by him and stepped through the Condo's threshold. It was already late, and outside, some lights were turned off. It almost made the street look empty, and the market was to follow soon.

Yet, he had something to do before going on a shopping spree.

In one of the alleys bordering the habitations, a few steps away from where Remus had seen before, stood a Krogan. Young, with green scales and brown eyes with a tinge of green. He bore broad purple strokes over his crest, attesting to his membership to the Jair clan... ... or so was telling Rahn. But that guy was always full of shit despite being a monster of muscles and bones.

Contrary to most Krogans in Omega, he did not bear the armors of the Blood Pack, so he was not affiliated with any big gangs... And was just a lowlife dealer who greedily smiled when watching the Turian approach within the poorly lit alley.

"Hah, Remus! My favorite Birdie! Here for your weekly dose?"

"Rahn, don't be a fucker, stop shouting."

In contrast with the booming voice, Remus hissed in a lower tone. But the criminal approached and wrapped his left arm around the Turian, keeping him close.

"Fine, fine. I missed you too."

Continued the Dealer, his hands awfully low and close to the baggy pants. Too close if anyone had an objection... And Remus had some.

"I'm not here for that, Rahn. You're too close, imagine if Legius saw you?"

"Pfhh. That old geezer is blind, like your Daddy. And here I thought you wanted me."

Now, the hand tugged on the waistband. The index rolled beneath it, voracious and hungry, eager to pull down those pants and...

And a hand smacked those fingers.

"Ouch. Okay, okay, not in the mood for a discount. Even a tiny small discount?"

The Turian scowled.

"Where is the dust?" he asked sourly as he kept glancing at the alley's entry.

"On me, don't worry. But it'll cost more. 2000 credits."

Instantly, the Turian's eyes widened as he pushed against the arms to free himself, hissing.

"What? But it was half last week!"

"Yeah... But I have some issues, especially with some batarians blocking the production in the Gozu district. It's pure, though. Not cut!"

"It's too much!" replied Remus. He clenched his fist in frustration. Contrary to his father, he didn't have much on his account. And he could not ask Kror unless he wanted a good smacking... For him and Rahn.

The old Krogan had no respect or desire to make friends with the dealer... He tolerated his presence... At best.

"Ahh, you know. It's hard to come by. Blue suns are cracking down on Dust. But I can give you a discount, you know how it is. Pretty bird."

Again with that hand moving closer. That time, Rahn didn't make an effort to appear amicable or friendly, he was already targeting his ass.

And again, a hand swatted those grubby fingers.

"Fine, 2000 credits. But it has to be pure."

"Promise!" vowed the dealer, especially by doing a small sign to his gods. Didn't mean anything, but Rahn believed and wouldn't dare mess with them.

With his omnitool, Remus sent the money to his dealer account. And a second later, he received a small plastic pocket with its bottom covered with a fine purple powder. A glance revealed the quality of the product: pure but mediocre. But it was beyond expectation in Omega. Enough for Remus to last the whole week.

"Satisfied?"

"I am. I hope it won't be as costly next week."

"Hopefully. You can always ask for a discount, pretty bird."

Despite the frustration at Rahn's presence, Remus let the Krogan lean and give a peck on his crest. Those slobbering lips left a disgusting gift in the form of dripping saliva on his exoskeleton. A horror he ignored by crushing his shivers until that Krogan was gone.

And gone he was, abandoning the Turian behind. He and that pocket he clung to.

For a moment, the steps still echoed in Remus' mind... However, he had things to do. And he stepped toward the market, stowing his prize in his vest as he strode through the familiar stands.

Though, that time, he avoided Avay the best he could.

And his search for the night had been fruitful, his bags full. And it was with a better mood that he left the elevator to see the apartment's door left agape once more. Without blaring music, which was an improvement.

"Hey, I managed you to get some beers and a cow steak. Prime steak, that's what Arthur. What are you watching?"

Instead of being in his workshop as always, Kror was reclined on the whole sofa, drawn by what seemed to be a series... Or a movie. A detail Remus noticed while stuffing the bags in the fridge, except for their steaks.

"Dunno. It was turned on, and there was that series about a... Don't know. A- a..." snapped the old krogan while a green-scaled humanoid stood on-screen.

An evidence followed by a chuckle from Remus. He then pulled two cleaned pans and prepared them in tandem, taking extreme care not to mix the ingredients. Dextro stuff on the right, Amino on the left.

"A Drell?"

"Yeah, thanks! A drell who is fighting batarian pirates and beating them with a staff from the Protheans. Or that shit."

"I know that series. 'surprised you're watching it, there's no blood or any real fight in it. And no plot." commented Remus, delicately putting both steaks in the hot oil. He should have used gloves to handle his father's meal, but there was little to no chance of contamination at those temperatures.

"I like it for the mechas. They're nice."

"If you want more series with mechas, I can show you one or two."

"Haha, no. If I did, I'd be stuck on that sofa. And without any work done. I'm fine as it is, just taking a break."

"I'm surprised."

Commented Remus, as he turned his gaze on the steaks, making sure his was medium rare while Kror got it well done. On the side, he also prepared a salad for himself and a mash for his father, that time with gloves until everything was ready and put on plates.

"Move your fat ass, it's ready," barged in the Turian with two plates. His presence occulted the television screen while he placed their meals on the small table. And then sat beside his father.

"So, you've met with your Krogan boyfriend?"

"Arh, no. I didn't."

"I can sense his smell all over you, he's in rut."

"He's not my boyfriend, he's too clingy. And... ... Uh... He's just there."

"Uhuh, what is this meat?"

"Earth cow meat. Got some from Art-"

"Bah, I know what's cow meat. Where is my beer?"

"You can fetch it, it's in the fridge."

"Damn, kid."

Kror grumbled but still moved his fat-ass, swaying the whole Sofa. And there, Remus noticed his father was again going commando. But he didn't avert his gaze in time. Before him were those two muscled cheeks, that little tail wagging... And an obviously damp crack between those clenched glutes. A sight completed by a waft of Krogan musk Remus inhaled. Only to stifle a gargle for the surprise and from a piece of meat stuck in his throat.

His eyes burned, his throat was on fire, his mandibles clicked. Until he gave in and began to cough, spitting his lungs out.

"Swallowed something the wrong side?"

"Ha- Haha, yeah," he replied, wiping a tear from his eyes' corners with his thumb. "Can you fetch me a beer too? Please?"

"Hrmphh... Fine."

For the minute it took, Remus kept his eyes fixated on his meal. On the steak, cut in small bits and his salad, observing the pinkish flesh until a can appeared in his field of view.

"Here. And I'm not moving my ass anymore."

"Thanks," meekly answered the Turian. In a psssht, he opened the can and took a chug. Then a second, then a third before he sighed and let the almost empty drink on the table.

"Heh, you're finally starting to drink like a Krogan. Perhaps it's rubbing onto you."

"Y- Yeah."

The diner remained silent afterward, except for a few comments from both men on the mechas and the series itself... Though, as the episode ended and local ads replaced the "scenario", Remus had to clean up after themselves since he couldn't count on Kror. The old man was snoring like a small truck.

In that state, it was better to let him sleep and for Remus to clean and wipe the dishes. Perhaps follow Kror in sleep. Although...

Although he didn't want to, wasn't feeling sleepy yet. And when he stowed the plates away, Remus saw his fingers tremble. Just a slightly... Just a small twinge, followed by a prickling pain when extending his hand. Something... Something he hated as much as he needed it.

With a comforting tap, he checked the presence of the small plastic pouch and his father before going into his own bedroom.

Cramped, with only a drawer and a bed, the place didn't allow Remus to stretch both arms without touching by one of the walls. But this was normal in Omega.

All was tiny, compressed, maintained to standard sizes unless you lived in a district near a docking bay, but the prices there were absurdly high.

Nah, this piece, it was his. The drawer may be askew, dirty clothes sprawled here and there, but it was comfortable. And the best?

Kror never checked it, so he had no problem stashing stuff here. Even though having a collection of Fornax hidden beneath his bed always felt stupid. The kind of stupid that made him pull out the pouch from his vest and open it.

And the pungent aroma invaded his room.

Chemical composition always spurned the sensitive noses... Months ago, Remus wasn't supporting it for more than a second. Now, it was alright. And in a perfunctory action, he collected some powder with his fingers before he rubbed it on his nostrils. He carefully applied it, ensuring no grain was stuck on his crest or lips...

And he inhaled.

Loudly, profoundly, until his nostrils burned and his lungs were on the verge of exploding. Then he exhaled, a trickle of air, a breath out...

And inhaled again.

And he felt it. The sudden jolt ran to his brain, rattled his skull and exoskeleton. His mandibles clicked in rhythm as he felt that warmth spread through his fingers, coiling around it before it rushed back to his wrist, forearm, elbow, arm, shoulders, neck... Brain.

All his nerves fired up, the sensation from a mere movement amped up a thousandfold until he extended an arm towards one of his vests... And a purple hue enveloped it, it levitated.

Energy... Pure energy ran through the Turian's fingertips, and he felt like... Like a god.

He should have been a biotic. He should have felt this all his life.

This was what he should have been doing instead of living at his father's side. Perhaps even fighting for a cabal under Turian's leadership. Or perhaps with the Eclipse, as they hired biotics. Like all Asaris, like some lucky of his kin, Remus knew he possessed the ability to manipulate the Eezo within his body, to manipulate that power, to harness it.

But he had no implant. And it was too late for him to get one.

Letting go of his grasp, the vest fell onto the ground, leaving him heaving as he stretched his arms once more. Sweat poured on his temple, and his muscles were already fighting back against the strain.

It was comparable to using an arm that had never been there, and his muscles ached as if they mimicked the action.

Usually... Usually, Biotics never suffered from this backlash, but Remus never had the chance to become one. Except with...

He glanced at the pouch, watching how he had collected more than a fifth of the powder in a single rush. A Dust rush... The Dust originally came from humans, Red sand. Since, gangs in Omega had adapted it for turians, unperfectly. It didn't work on non-biotics, and it merely improved their ability.

But to Remus, this... This was good. He knew he had abilities, he could use biotics, he could find a way. Perhaps if he trained enough, he wouldn't need Dust anymore to use it. But now, just attempting to lift a cloth was draining him... Exhausting him to the point he was feeling sluggish.

His fingers ached, but no longer trembled. Likewise to his legs and arms as he flopped on his bed... And came face to face with the suitcase he had recovered earlier.

The old Turian, that odd guy, was surely dead since he had taken his lift from Bay L9. Perhaps nobody knew about the case. And... It's not like he knew his name or anything.

But again... Remus didn't know what was with that suitcase and its contents.

Gritting his teeth and giving a mental flick to the lock, the Turian opened it. But he gave up the idea of using biotics to check the content. Rather, he used real fingers to touch the vials... And watch the pink liquid shimmering in all those bottles. Shimmering and... Bubbling?

It did not do bubble before, and wasn't as bright. Whatever that liquid was, it did not like its extended stay.

He had to put them somewhere.