Data Breach (Femshep/Asari Consort)

The drell infiltrator stepped over the tranquilised body of the Consort's assistant. For all her vaunted confidentiality, the asari Consort's security had been surprisingly easy to penetrate.

Dylcat had posed as a lesser diplomat, someone seeking an appointment with Sha'ira, the Citadel's legendary courtesan. Naturally, his request had been refused, and he'd been signed up for a session with one of the Consort's attendants, almost a month after his first enquiry.

The drell had been patient, returning when the time had come. The attendant in question, an asari, beautiful, though not to the arresting extent that the Consort was rumoured to be, had taken him aside. After a brief conversation, she had gauged that what the lonesome drell most sought was a intense bout of passion. Not the primary reason he had came to the Presidium, but Dyl had gone along with it, undressing and taking the asari.

He had fucked the blue beauty's curvaceous behind for a few pleasurable moments. This one of Sha'ira's girls clearly had something of the typical slut, the kind that could be found in ceaseless numbers down on the wards, about her. She lost herself in the pleasure, giving her ass over to the quiet and calculating drell. So much so that she didn't even notice him reaching into his jacket, producing the syringe and pressing it to the back of her neck, just beneath her tentacles.

Falling victim to a fast-acting sedative, the asari had dropped from his cock, mercifully for her, Dyl had deigned to fuck her on the bed.

Making himself decent, the drell stepped out into the halls of the Consort's Presidium lodgings, moving with veiled intention. A security room, boasting only the minimum of surveillance, more to protect Sha'ira's employees and clientele. Dyl shorted it all, there would be no evidence of his passing, save for the foggy and groggy memory of one foolish attendant.

From there, the Consort's chambers. The expansive and elegant space had played host to many of Citadel Space's elite, and their attendant troubles and indiscretions. A higher-level diplomat, one the Broker all but owned at this point, with the Consort's trust, had been persuaded to bug the office, discretely hiding microscopic recording equipment at several points around Sha'ira's inner sanctum.

Dylcat removed them all, and was back on the Presidium walkway inside of two minutes.

-

Several interminable elevator rides later, Dylcat was back in the Wards, ensconced in his safehouse. The recording devices had functioned as intended, storing weeks of compromising footage of numerous individuals to their local memory. The drell operative spooled through, going off of prior intelligence until he found what he was looking for.

"Oh my GOD!" a voice, Human Alliance, female, lost in the throes of lust "Consort, you're incredible!"

Alongside the voice, and the sound of exuberant female on female fucking, there was a face. Confident, brave, daring, it was an increasingly common sight on the Citadel, the first human Spectre, displayed with pride in the Alliance recruitment ads.

The context in which she appeared now, legs spread like a whore, Sha'ira's head between them, moaning her assent in full gaze of the hidden camera, could not have been more different.

The drell chuckled with the satisfaction of a task completed, before grabbing the timestamps and composing a message on his omni-tool.

"Broker,

The ammunition you were looking for.

Your servant,

Dylcat."

The drell hit send, and the data surged to the nearest comm buoy. It would snake across the galaxy, encrypting and decrypting, a precious gem in the miasma of galactic communication.

The next hand to touch said gem, would be the most dangerous possible person to possess such sensitive footage.

-

"Embrace eternity!"

The Shadow Broker smiled. From his currently selected angle, Shepard's ass blocked most of the field of vision, but it was obvious from the way the human convulsed with pleasure in her asari lover's arms what was happening to her.

The asari meld was rather surreal when viewed from without, as the yahg had only seen it, but the way the two women convulsed and moaned as one when joined gave credence to it's potency.

Shepard had had her chance. A chance to comply with him, to hand over the data she had recovered from Cerberus' bases and be compensated fairly. The Commander had declined.

She was about to learn what happened when you refused the Shadow Broker.

The yahg possessed footage of the Alliance's poster girl in the most compromising of situations with an alien national, in better audiovisual quality than most adult-only holos. Very shortly, so would anyone with an extranet connection.

Gathering up the embarrassing videos, the Shadow Broker composed a message.

_"Ms. _al-Jilani

As a devoted follower of your journalism and career, I could sympathise with you after Commander Shepard showed you up on your own programme. Of course, as these videos I've obtained would suggest, Ms. Shepard isn't always so composed.

Sincerely,

A friend."

The Broker took a moment, took a breath, and let out a low and rich chuckle. All these years, and it still felt good. The neutralisation of an enemy.

With a certain relish, the alien hit send.