Miranda comes to, naked and bound.

The Red Sand coursing through Miranda's bloodstream jolted her awake. Exhilirated, every inch of her body buzzing from the potent ****, she still did her best to quickly take stock of her surroundings.

While she was out, Harkin had moved her to what looked to be a storeroom of sorts. Whether she was still at Chora's Den, she couldn't say.

She'd been stripped. No doubt Harkin had seen to that himself. Bastard. Not only that, but she'd been suspended by strong cords, too thick to struggle against with her hands, her legs spread, in the center of the room.

A breathing mask was strapped to her face, connected by a thin, clear tube to a supply of Red Sand. Looked like enough to OD a whole clan of krogan.

Harkin stood before her. Somehow, the smirk he wore was even dirtier than the one plastered on his face as she'd danced for him.

"Good morning, sunshine." The ex-cop said. "I myself prefer a hot coffee and a sloppy blowjob, but they say a touch of sand'll wake a person up like nothing else."

There was tittering from every corner of the room as Harkin spoke. While her range of movement was understandably impaired, Miranda could make out a smattering of Harkin's human thugs, and a couple of Eclipse sisters backing them up.

"Seriously, whaddaya think of my product?" Harkin asked, pulling down Miranda's mask so she could speak clearly. "First hit's free. You want a little more, we can work out a payment plan."

"I think..." Miranda began, her voice breathy. It was hard to think, let alone formulate a decent insult. "If there's a **** that can make you less revolting, this isn't it."

Lawson followed it up by spitting, directly in the bastard's eye. She could swear he enjoyed it.

"Feisty." Harkin chuckled, wiping at his reddened eye. "Don't worry sugartits, you won't be the first filly I've broken in."

And with that, he popped Miranda's mask back over her mouth.

"Let me break this down for you sweety, nice and simple. I totally understand if your head's somewhere else right now." Harkin began, tracing a forefinger playfully over one of Miranda's exposed tits.

"There's something up with you. I don't know if you're Alliance, C-Sec, a paid assassin, hell, you could be some crazed Archangel fangirl looking to clean up the station. But I intend to find out." Harkin explained. "Would be simplest for everyone if you just told me-"

"Not bloody likely!" Miranda said defiantly. The mask muffled her words, but she figured the crime boss got her drift.

"You could just spill, but it's unlikely. You said the Eclipse sent you to me, a bow on your sweet little ass, but these technicolor cunts" he gestured to the asari commandoes in the corner "have never heard of you. They've got their boss coming, to give her two cents, but until that happens, I figured I might conduct my own interrogation."

"Back when I worked in C-Sec, breaking a suspect was so boring. Threats, beatings, I don't know if you've ever tried to pound a confession out of a turian before, but it's hell on the hands.

'Course, now I'm running the show, I can use my own toys. Like this!" Harkin activated his omni-tool, and another dosage of Red Sand blew into her face. It seemed smaller, but still potent enough to make Miranda's heart jackhammer in her chest.

The former Cerberus operative writhed in her bonds, sweat beginning to bead on her immaculate naked form.

"So this is how it's gonna play out. I'm gonna fuck you. My men are gonna fuck you. You don't get to come into my club, play secret agent looking like you and not get rammed. If you don't tell me exactly what I wanna hear, I'll keep blasting you with the sand. We'll all have another go in that tight, tasty looking slit you've got. I'll call in some preferred customers, maybe even my bouncer. You remember that mountain of muscle and attitude out there? Afterwards, I'll throw what's left of your sand-addicted carcass to the Eclipse."

"Tell me your real name, and what you're doing here, right now. Do that, and it can go way easier for you." Harkin promised, once again tugging down her mask. Gasping, Miranda thought the raging hard-on in his pants suggested something else.