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"…In other news, Commander Shepard has been sighted on the Citadel today with her companions, Garrus Vakarian and Tali'zorah nar Rayya. Eye witnesses claim that Shepard walked out of the council chamber in a state of anger, and refused to offer any comment on what transpired during her first documented meeting in two years. More on that story later."

"Good for you, darlin'." The blonde in the nearby cafe whispered to herself, smiling toward the speaker. She knew Jess wouldn't take any guff from those high-ups.

To Blair Hart, Commander Jessa Shepard was not the savior of the galaxy, the destroyer of a geth army, or the sole survivor of Akuze. She was simply Jess, once a sixteen-year-old girl she'd spent a summer with on the family farm in Florida, looking out for her while her adopted mother, Hannah, went off to battle pirates, batarians, or whatever other hooey the military was sent after, and her brother, Dick, prepared to murder a Yakuza boss in Tokyo.

All in all, Jess hadn't been the in the best position, given her brother's first undertaking as a freelance merc. And without her usual protectors about, Blair had gladly stepped in to look after the girl—under the guise of working for her grandmother, of course. Someone needed to haul hay and plant vegetables, and Blair was a natural, having grown up on a farm herself in Small Town, Arkansas. And though little Jess Shepard was no blood relation, Blair had watched her like a hawk that summer. She and Dick were brothers not through birth and blood, but through battle and biotics, and come hell or high water, she looked after his little sister like she was her own.

And like the other members of her and Dick's rag-tag group of formerly runaway biotic teenagers, she had grieved over Jess's loss. She'd spilled beer and her share of tears with the gals and gents who'd known her, told stories about the time before she was a high-ranking soldier, and simply Dick's sweet, silly, sassy little sister. And privately, she'd wondered why Dick hadn't contacted any of them, or even attended the funeral. Word was that he'd landed a big contract for a big group of scientists looking to explore Eingana, and that there was no contact with them for the next two years. But he'd signed up for that before any word of Jess's death had been released, and likely had no idea that she was gone. The whole matter seemed a little fishy to Blair, and she was usually right in her instincts.

Of course, now was hardly the time to be thinking of that.

Blair's gaze swept over the cafe, taking in her surroundings. Her mark was in the corner, heatedly negotiating with a krogan over whatever illegal matters he'd dipped into this day. A busboy was quickly scrubbing the nearby table clean, hoping no one would notice a few coffee stains on the 'fresh' tablecloth he laid down. And not too far off, a little girl sat with her mother, beaming at her surroundings as she patiently waited for her mama to finish her cup of coffee and pack of cigarettes.

A smile crept over her lips as the little girl waved to her. She had to be about four years old, twenty years younger than Blair's own. And this little girl certainly looked happy. She wished only the same for hers.

The little girl grinned, then turned to her mother, and began speaking. It sounded like Polish to Blair, but it was too rapid for her to make it out. She'd spent a little time in Poland some years ago with the rest of the gang, and she'd liked it rather well. There were plenty of alleys for her and the others to walk down and disappear, the food was damn good when they could afford it (Blair loved those hearty chicken and potato dishes), and the people were friendly, even if some had snuck in a few giggles at her accent. Not that she could blame them. Her husky, southern accent was a bit 'Bojanglely' even by American standards.

The girl pointed at Blair's hair, then at her own, asking her mother something that the woman couldn't make out. Most likely something about the color. Sure, her hair was still wheat blonde, but the dark chocolate truth was beginning to gather at the roots. Ever since her mama had let her, Blair had dyed her hair bright blonde. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her hair. She'd liked it up until she was a teenager. Things just of soured for her after that. But she'd been a bit of a sour girl after her biotics came along, so it was to be expected.

But she was soon shaken out of her silly thoughts by the sight of her mark standing up, sneering after the krogan as he left, then stepping clean out of the café. Blair waited patiently for five seconds, then stood up herself, leaving her money on the table.

It wasn't too difficult to follow this one. He had a distinctive limp that made it hard for him to go anywhere too fast, and easy for her to duck behind garbage cans and into alleys every time he turned around, scratching his scraggly goatee in a suspicious gesture, then shrugging off his fears and continuing into the lower wards. He knew something was up, and he was jumpy, but he was clever about it, always sticking to large crowds. Good. She liked a challenge.

In truth, the Blue Suns may have given her plenty of experience in the field when she was part of their ranks, but Blair had grown up hunting in the woods and mountains of Arkansas. She knew how to stalk her prey, to blend in to her surroundings, and most of all, to never let her quarry know where she was at any time. Give her a shotgun or a sniper rifle, and she could have pinned Harkin between the eyes with a single shot and a speed that would have made her daddy damn proud. But she wasn't after his life. Not this time, anyway.

His records had mentioned that the former C-SEC officer was a drunk, and if the sexual harassment charges were any indication, sleazy. Her suspicions were confirmed when he stepped into a nearby titty bar.

She hated to admit it, but stepping into any sort of bar with dancing strippers always made her uncomfortable. It wasn't that she looked down upon the girls by any mean. The asari were just having fun, and the humans were just trying to support themselves. She knew what they were up to. Hell, most girls with lives like hers ended up on a pole or on their back for cash, if they lived that long, yet she had never done that. She was lucky. Blessed even, if she still believed in a god. But, luckily for her, she was still alive and healthy at thirty-six years of age, with a good job, a good man, and a stable mind. Three things that by the time she was twelve years old, she knew weren't guaranteed in the course of life.

Blair knew she had a certain rough-and-tumble pretty to her. She had messy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, with features that weren't sculpted or delicate like those fine-boned gals in the club, but not too coarse that they were unpleasant to look at. All in all, she could get by, looking every bit like the 'State Fair Butter Queen' or 'County Fair Cow Princess' or 'Miss Central Arkansas' Santeria and Aisha had often teased her about being. (Not that she was above nicknaming them 'Donkey Show' and 'Reefer Plantation' for their own places of origin.) A blue-collar sort of pretty, but the men in there would surely be too drunk to give much of a damn so long as she had hips and tits. Yes sir, going into that bar would be trouble.

So, she stepped over to a pair of shady looking turians, handing them each two hundred credits just to stand in the nearby walkway and look…well…shady. Soon enough, people stopped coming down that way. And when Harkin stepped out, he took a detour, deciding to avoid those two and limp down the nearby alleyway. Foolish on his part, really. They could have certain followed him if they'd had the inclination.

Blair had taken a vantage point atop the nearby fire escape, watching as Harkin came to a stop, scratching his head at the two dumpsters that had been shoved together in the alley, blocking his way.

She wasted no time in jumping down, taking advantage of his surprise and pressing him hard against the wall.

"Now pardon me, darlin', I'm mighty sorry to be interruptin' yer day like this, but I've got some questions that I need answerin'."

He tried to run. Of course he did. They always did, stupid bastards. But she'd prepared for this, encasing his legs with blue light. As always, it was too much, and both his legs broke with a series of loud snaps.

The bounty hunter had to hold back a wince. That was with the problem with having so much power, and little training. She could only do big things, never little bits. Hell, one time she tried to toss one of those little badminton birdies with her biotics, and shot it clear through a steel wall. Lord only knew what would have happened if that Conatix fellow hadn't stepped out of the way in time.

"You done?"

"Fuck off." Harkin snarled, spitting at her feet. "I've already been shot in the leg this week. I don't need you and yer galdarn biotics makin' a mess of things too."

He finished that last bit with a rude imitation of her accent, and Blair narrowed her eyes, biotic light closing over his wrist.

Something inside of her relished in his scream, something ugly. But she pushed it back, and informed him calmly, "Look, sir, you can home after this with some medi-gel fer your bones, or a busted kisser. And keep mockin' me like that, and you can go home with a tag on yer toe. What's it gonna be?"

He was silent, so Blair told him, "I'm lookin' fer Eli Harper. I know you know 'im, so don't bother givin' me any guff about that. I wanna know where he is now, and where he'll be tomorrow. And I think we both know that he's gonna be waitin' outside some poor girl's school. So tell me…which is it?"

He was quiet for a moment, before answering, "Girl's name is Amy Tucker. She goes to the school on Third Street. All the sixth graders there have early dismissal because of testing. She'll walk home. She lives three blocks away, on Sixth Street. Harper will get her then."

"Thank you kindly." Blair reached into her pack, and tossed him a pack of medi-gel. It would be enough to fix his legs, but not the wrist. The wrist would be a reminder.

"You know Harper's cousin is Elias Kelham?" Harkin sneered. "He'll space your hic ass the moment you bring him in. Is some little bitch really worth it?"

That did it. Blair didn't use her biotics, she plain smacked him in the face, curling back her arm and doing it again. That same feeling called for her to apply a little blue light to her fingers, and hit this man until her blue jacket was stained red. But another voice, one that always sounded eerily like Hugo, urged to calm down. Told her that he wasn't worth it. And as always, she listened to that voice. After all, listening to whatever thing Hugo had placed in her mind had been cheaper than therapy at the time, and it served her well now.

"And is knowin' that you let some kid molester ruin the childhoods of twenty-four little girls and counting worth whatever sum he pays you to find them?" Her blue eyes were terribly cold. "Mark my words, 'Fade', one day I'm gonna have enough evidence to bring you in."

"Right." The man scoffed. "You could save yourself the trouble and just kill me here."

"I'm mighty tempted." Her voice was softer now, as she let him go. "But it ain't decent, and I'm better 'n that."

Still, that little voice spoke again, and she found herself saying, "I'll give you a chance to heal up. Maybe pass along a little information about yer exploits to my gal's friend, Garrus Vakerian. I'm sure he'd love to know what you've been up to since you saw him last. And I hear he ain't as forgivin' as I am."

Harkin's face paled, but Blair didn't notice, too busy thinking as she walked away. She had more to concern herself with than Harkin. After all, come tomorrow she would have a bounty to turn in. And she needed to prepare.

Description
"…In other news, Commander Shepard has been sighted on the Citadel today with her companions, Garrus Vakarian and Tali'zorah nar Rayya. Eye witnesses claim that Shepard walked out of the council chamber in a state of anger, and refused to offer any comment on what transpired during her first documented meeting in two years. More on that story later."

"Good for you, darlin'." The blonde in the nearby cafe whispered to herself, smiling toward the speaker. She knew Jess wouldn't take any guff from those high-ups.

To Blair Hart, Commander Jessa Shepard was not the savior of the galaxy, the destroyer of a geth army, or the sole survivor of Akuze. She was simply Jess, once a sixteen-year-old girl she'd spent a summer with on the family farm in Florida, looking out for her while her adopted mother, Hannah, went off to battle pirates, batarians, or whatever other hooey the military was sent after, and her brother, Dick, prepared to murder a Yakuza boss in Tokyo.

All in all, Jess hadn't been the in the best position, given her brother's first undertaking as a freelance merc. And without her usual protectors about, Blair had gladly stepped in to look after the girl—under the guise of working for her grandmother, of course. Someone needed to haul hay and plant vegetables, and Blair was a natural, having grown up on a farm herself in Small Town, Arkansas. And though little Jess Shepard was no blood relation, Blair had watched her like a hawk that summer. She and Dick were brothers not through birth and blood, but through battle and biotics, and come hell or high water, she looked after his little sister like she was her own.

And like the other members of her and Dick's rag-tag group of formerly runaway biotic teenagers, she had grieved over Jess's loss. She'd spilled beer and her share of tears with the gals and gents who'd known her, told stories about the time before she was a high-ranking soldier, and simply Dick's sweet, silly, sassy little sister. And privately, she'd wondered why Dick hadn't contacted any of them, or even attended the funeral. Word was that he'd landed a big contract for a big group of scientists looking to explore Eingana, and that there was no contact with them for the next two years. But he'd signed up for that before any word of Jess's death had been released, and likely had no idea that she was gone. The whole matter seemed a little fishy to Blair, and she was usually right in her instincts.

Of course, now was hardly the time to be thinking of that.

Blair's gaze swept over the cafe, taking in her surroundings. Her mark was in the corner, heatedly negotiating with a krogan over whatever illegal matters he'd dipped into this day. A busboy was quickly scrubbing the nearby table clean, hoping no one would notice a few coffee stains on the 'fresh' tablecloth he laid down. And not too far off, a little girl sat with her mother, beaming at her surroundings as she patiently waited for her mama to finish her cup of coffee and pack of cigarettes.

A smile crept over her lips as the little girl waved to her. She had to be about four years old, twenty years younger than Blair's own. And this little girl certainly looked happy. She wished only the same for hers.

The little girl grinned, then turned to her mother, and began speaking. It sounded like Polish to Blair, but it was too rapid for her to make it out. She'd spent a little time in Poland some years ago with the rest of the gang, and she'd liked it rather well. There were plenty of alleys for her and the others to walk down and disappear, the food was damn good when they could afford it (Blair loved those hearty chicken and potato dishes), and the people were friendly, even if some had snuck in a few giggles at her accent. Not that she could blame them. Her husky, southern accent was a bit 'Bojanglely' even by American standards.

The girl pointed at Blair's hair, then at her own, asking her mother something that the woman couldn't make out. Most likely something about the color. Sure, her hair was still wheat blonde, but the dark chocolate truth was beginning to gather at the roots. Ever since her mama had let her, Blair had dyed her hair bright blonde. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her hair. She'd liked it up until she was a teenager. Things just of soured for her after that. But she'd been a bit of a sour girl after her biotics came along, so it was to be expected.

But she was soon shaken out of her silly thoughts by the sight of her mark standing up, sneering after the krogan as he left, then stepping clean out of the café. Blair waited patiently for five seconds, then stood up herself, leaving her money on the table.

It wasn't too difficult to follow this one. He had a distinctive limp that made it hard for him to go anywhere too fast, and easy for her to duck behind garbage cans and into alleys every time he turned around, scratching his scraggly goatee in a suspicious gesture, then shrugging off his fears and continuing into the lower wards. He knew something was up, and he was jumpy, but he was clever about it, always sticking to large crowds. Good. She liked a challenge.

In truth, the Blue Suns may have given her plenty of experience in the field when she was part of their ranks, but Blair had grown up hunting in the woods and mountains of Arkansas. She knew how to stalk her prey, to blend in to her surroundings, and most of all, to never let her quarry know where she was at any time. Give her a shotgun or a sniper rifle, and she could have pinned Harkin between the eyes with a single shot and a speed that would have made her daddy damn proud. But she wasn't after his life. Not this time, anyway.

His records had mentioned that the former C-SEC officer was a drunk, and if the sexual harassment charges were any indication, sleazy. Her suspicions were confirmed when he stepped into a nearby titty bar.

She hated to admit it, but stepping into any sort of bar with dancing strippers always made her uncomfortable. It wasn't that she looked down upon the girls by any mean. The asari were just having fun, and the humans were just trying to support themselves. She knew what they were up to. Hell, most girls with lives like hers ended up on a pole or on their back for cash, if they lived that long, yet she had never done that. She was lucky. Blessed even, if she still believed in a god. But, luckily for her, she was still alive and healthy at thirty-six years of age, with a good job, a good man, and a stable mind. Three things that by the time she was twelve years old, she knew weren't guaranteed in the course of life.

Blair knew she had a certain rough-and-tumble pretty to her. She had messy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, with features that weren't sculpted or delicate like those fine-boned gals in the club, but not too coarse that they were unpleasant to look at. All in all, she could get by, looking every bit like the 'State Fair Butter Queen' or 'County Fair Cow Princess' or 'Miss Central Arkansas' Santeria and Aisha had often teased her about being. (Not that she was above nicknaming them 'Donkey Show' and 'Reefer Plantation' for their own places of origin.) A blue-collar sort of pretty, but the men in there would surely be too drunk to give much of a damn so long as she had hips and tits. Yes sir, going into that bar would be trouble.

So, she stepped over to a pair of shady looking turians, handing them each two hundred credits just to stand in the nearby walkway and look…well…shady. Soon enough, people stopped coming down that way. And when Harkin stepped out, he took a detour, deciding to avoid those two and limp down the nearby alleyway. Foolish on his part, really. They could have certain followed him if they'd had the inclination.

Blair had taken a vantage point atop the nearby fire escape, watching as Harkin came to a stop, scratching his head at the two dumpsters that had been shoved together in the alley, blocking his way.

She wasted no time in jumping down, taking advantage of his surprise and pressing him hard against the wall.

"Now pardon me, darlin', I'm mighty sorry to be interruptin' yer day like this, but I've got some questions that I need answerin'."

He tried to run. Of course he did. They always did, stupid bastards. But she'd prepared for this, encasing his legs with blue light. As always, it was too much, and both his legs broke with a series of loud snaps.

The bounty hunter had to hold back a wince. That was with the problem with having so much power, and little training. She could only do big things, never little bits. Hell, one time she tried to toss one of those little badminton birdies with her biotics, and shot it clear through a steel wall. Lord only knew what would have happened if that Conatix fellow hadn't stepped out of the way in time.

"You done?"

"Fuck off." Harkin snarled, spitting at her feet. "I've already been shot in the leg this week. I don't need you and yer galdarn biotics makin' a mess of things too."

He finished that last bit with a rude imitation of her accent, and Blair narrowed her eyes, biotic light closing over his wrist.

Something inside of her relished in his scream, something ugly. But she pushed it back, and informed him calmly, "Look, sir, you can home after this with some medi-gel fer your bones, or a busted kisser. And keep mockin' me like that, and you can go home with a tag on yer toe. What's it gonna be?"

He was silent, so Blair told him, "I'm lookin' fer Eli Harper. I know you know 'im, so don't bother givin' me any guff about that. I wanna know where he is now, and where he'll be tomorrow. And I think we both know that he's gonna be waitin' outside some poor girl's school. So tell me…which is it?"

He was quiet for a moment, before answering, "Girl's name is Amy Tucker. She goes to the school on Third Street. All the sixth graders there have early dismissal because of testing. She'll walk home. She lives three blocks away, on Sixth Street. Harper will get her then."

"Thank you kindly." Blair reached into her pack, and tossed him a pack of medi-gel. It would be enough to fix his legs, but not the wrist. The wrist would be a reminder.

"You know Harper's cousin is Elias Kelham?" Harkin sneered. "He'll space your hic ass the moment you bring him in. Is some little bitch really worth it?"

That did it. Blair didn't use her biotics, she plain smacked him in the face, curling back her arm and doing it again. That same feeling called for her to apply a little blue light to her fingers, and hit this man until her blue jacket was stained red. But another voice, one that always sounded eerily like Hugo, urged to calm down. Told her that he wasn't worth it. And as always, she listened to that voice. After all, listening to whatever thing Hugo had placed in her mind had been cheaper than therapy at the time, and it served her well now.

"And is knowin' that you let some kid molester ruin the childhoods of twenty-four little girls and counting worth whatever sum he pays you to find them?" Her blue eyes were terribly cold. "Mark my words, 'Fade', one day I'm gonna have enough evidence to bring you in."

"Right." The man scoffed. "You could save yourself the trouble and just kill me here."

"I'm mighty tempted." Her voice was softer now, as she let him go. "But it ain't decent, and I'm better 'n that."

Still, that little voice spoke again, and she found herself saying, "I'll give you a chance to heal up. Maybe pass along a little information about yer exploits to my gal's friend, Garrus Vakerian. I'm sure he'd love to know what you've been up to since you saw him last. And I hear he ain't as forgivin' as I am."

Harkin's face paled, but Blair didn't notice, too busy thinking as she walked away. She had more to concern herself with than Harkin. After all, come tomorrow she would have a bounty to turn in. And she needed to prepare.