Coop tugged at the tape, wrapping it again around her hands. She wiggled her fingers, just to be sure that she could, and wrapped again. Around her, everyone was busy, people brushed behind her on her bench, the wind from their movements rustling her long dark hair. Her brown eyes stayed focused on her task, but her ears listened.
She was a fighter, ever since she could remember. People looked at her, and thought her weak when they stepped into the ring. Sneered and looked at the crowd, determined that it was a joke. Raised their hands to get a response from the crowd. The crowd knew. They played it up, as always.
She would stand still, right on that little bit of tape they put there for the fighters so she knew where to stand. When they got tired of waiting, they would lunge for her, and she would turn just in time. They would fall on their face, or their hands, and she would watch, hands tucked inside each other behind her back. They would make a snide remark, usually something pertaining to that being a woman, she was weak and sly. She would usually respond with a smirk.
Then they would try again. Maybe a grab at her hair, a hard right hook, a sweep. A block, and a hit, usually somewhere around the gut. Or the ribs. She would hit a pressure point, and they would back up, fall down and get up, curse her under their breath.
Coop would start bouncing on the balls of her feet, back and forth, keeping the momentum going. No one ever lasted more than a couple minutes anymore, and it didn't matter how large they were. Her trick wasn't just fighting, not that she wasn't good. She had plenty of experience; her trick was mindgames. She took everything she had as an advantage and turned it just right so it seemed like a weakness.
She ripped the tape with her teeth, tucking the remainder into her locker and slamming it shut. She stood. She wore the same short black shorts, one single white stripe down the side, and the plain white shirt she always wore. They made sure it was low cut.
An average person in the crowd thought that she did it for fun, that this was her bread and butter, what she enjoyed, like an asari dancing in the club. She was good at it, right, so why shouldn't she? Why deny it?
"Ancilla," one of the guardmen said to her, and she nodded to him as he opened the door for her. She was used to it by now; it was practically an official nickname. Slave-girl.
Coop walked out into the small tunnel leading to the ring, hands hooked together and stretching above her, cracking her back. She let out a deep sigh of relief. A few fights, and then she could go back, eat some food, get some sleep. Repeat it all tomorrow.
The roar of the crowd met her ears a few seconds later; they were aboard one of the many roaming illegal colonies sprouting up throughout the galaxy. Criminals of all stripes, people on holidays, people stopping for supplies, or wanting a new plaything… it didn't matter. There weren't any regulations here. She was owned by a batarian who had kept her only because she was so young at the time. His guards had taken a liking to her, probably because she wasn't afraid of them, and had taught her how to fight. Now, no one touched her unless she agreed to it. Even her owner couldn't control her that much.
She blotted out the noise as she slid between the metal ropes of the ring. She made a little show of stretching—it always increased the betting—and then stood on her little marked spot. She checked her nails, and dug out some dirt that had crept underneath one. She heard the announcer dimly: it had been a long time since she had actually paid attention to that. Someone would show up, she would beat them, and then she would leave.
Three people climbed into the ring: a human, an asari, and a turian. It sounded like a really bad joke, honestly. She looked dully into the crowd, tempted to fake a yawn. Instead, she just stretched again, this time leaning all the way back and popping up on her hands.
"Being flexible isn't going to save you, little girl," the asari hissed, and Coop grinned at her.
"Ooh, someone isn't very nice. What's the matter? Boyfriend die?" The asari lunged for her, blue face twisted with fury, and all Coop had to do was to push off to land on her feet to the side. The asari faceplanted where she had been and began to get back up in rage.
Biotics were banned, but she wouldn't put it past any of them to use it on her. She kept on her toes, mostly using aversion and diversion tactics to keep away from all three of them. Finally, bloody and bruised, they wised up. Two caught her, one on each arm, and the third approached, his mandibles clicking as he looked her over.
"Shouldn't you be asking for release, human? Will dying here be a welcome refuge from the slavery you've been forced into?"
She didn't think that merited a response. She headbutted him, then slammed the side of her body the asari was holding to the ground, throwing her off balance. She used the momentum to slam up a leg between the human's, and he dropped almost instantly, a howl permeating the ring.
She slammed a boot down onto the asari's chest, pushing her back onto the ground and into the turian, who toppled beneath her. The asari raced to get back up, biotics bending the air around her—
A batarian stepped in, gun stuck into the asari's face. "No biotics," he said simply, and when she blasted him away from her and into Coop, a sniper took her out, splattering them both with purple blood.
Beneath the batarian, Coop was laughing. The crowd had gone silent, but slowly the cheer began, and then it became louder. She pushed him off of her, and as he stood, he offered her a hand up, which she accepted. Other batarians were pushing the turian and human out of the ring, and another was dragging out the asari by her feet. Just a typical day in the cage, right?
"You alright?" She wondered, slapping his arm, and he nodded, tucking his gun away.
"You okay?"
"Fine as ever," she replied with a wink, then turning to face the crowd to their backs. They roared as she did, and she raised up her arms, covered as she was with purple blood, and let out a roar of her own.
The crowd answered. Or at least, most of the crowd. One man had his eyes narrowed at the ring, and the girl parading around in it now. Why would the batarians have stepped in to protect the fighter? One fighter? Even if the others had broken the rules?
"Be back here tomorrow night, 1800, to watch Coop defeat yet another opponent," came a loud drawl over the PA, and he looked up, eyes squinting a little in interest. A set up? An employee? Or something different?
He wasn't here for this; he was on a separate assignment, and had had to stop here for some minor repairs to his ship; it really wasn't worth getting into. Still, if he wanted to pursue this, he needed to talk to his boss. He slipped away, out of the crowd and the arena, and off into a back alley. He could hear fucking a few feet away, but he was very good at ignoring that by now. He loaded up the comm, and it was answered, audio only, a few seconds later.
"This is important?"
"The Cage. Batarians have a suspected human slave."
A heavy sigh.
"What are you doing on the Cage, Leng? Aren't you tracking a human fugitive?"
"I stopped to get a part, and ran across the ring. She's a fighter. We could use her."
"We, or you? Because if you get her, she's your responsibility, not mine. Is that clear?"
He watched as a foot appeared from the fucking couple. "Yes."
"Good. Get rid of that alien trash and get your mission completed. I expect you back in seven days. Both of you."
"We'll be there," he promised, and the line disconnected. He smiled despite himself, and cracked his knuckles, a habit he usually detested… but he rather crack them now rather than against a batarian's jawline later.
Leng slipped back into the arena, which was still quite full, and made his way to the other side of the ring where he saw a few large batarians standing watch in front of a door. He approached fearlessly, keeping his face straight with some work, and, as he suspected, they moved to block the doorway. Eight eyes were boring into him then.
"Get lost, human," the one on his right said, jutting his small chin out to the ring. "Nothing for you here."
"I'm here to see Coop," he said calmly, and they both smirked, the one on the left laughing a little. "She's not available, kid. Plenty of brothels here; don't know if you could afford them though."
"I am here to see her. Take me inside, or I will knock you both out and go in anyway."
The two glanced at each other, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Look, what's your business? What's so damned important?"
"I want to offer her a job."
"She's not for hire," one batarian said, smirking a little too wide.
"Is that so? How much are they selling her for?"
Any chance of humour was lost then, and a batarian came out of the door that had been guarded, grabbed Leng by the back of his neck, and dragged him inside. He was pushed into another room and into a stiff, and itchy, chair. He looked up as he got his bearings and found a very… large… batarian in front of him, chewing on a cigar.
"Look, kid, she ain't for sale. I don't appreciate a human coming around and threatening my guys and livelihood, you knows?"
"I do know," he said, leaning forward a little, fingers locked and elbows on his knees. "How much."
"Not. For. Sale."
"Please," he said in a dismissive tone. "Everyone has a price. Name it. You could buy ten more of her with it, I bet."
"Twenty," the batarian countered, and Leng barely acknowledged it with a slight upturn of his lips.
"A price."
The large alien eyed him, then leaned over to scribble a number on a slip of paper, and slid it over so Leng could see it. He did.
"I can wire it to your immediately," he said in an even tone, "provided I own her immediately."
The batarian hesitated, then took the cigar out of his mouth and leaned forward a little towards him. "What are you going to do with her? Marry her?"
Leng raised his eyebrows, more than a little surprised. "No. She has talent. My company needs people like her. Me having to stop here was no coincidence."
Their eyes, all six of them, met each other, and Leng didn't blink. Finally, the batarian grunted. "She's safe here."
"I'll keep her safe. She'll be the best." When the batarian didn't respond, Leng added, "How long has she been with you?"
"Twelve years," he said immediately, cigar back into his mouth. "Stowaway, actually. One of my guards found her; she was four. Snuck on on one of the colonies, I assume. Not afraid of us, probably because she had been watching us for so long. Most human kids are terrified of us, you know that?"
"With due cause. You do turn us into slaves."
"Ah, well, its also the eyes, I guess." He started digging in his desk for his lighter. Leng had a spark of annoyance. "Guards kind of liked her at that point. We had just sold off our last batch before coming to the Cage, so the ship was empty. They fed her and told her stories." He shrugged. "She earned her keep long before she started to fight here." Silence permeated between them for a minute, in which the batarian lit his cigar. "You're giving her a way out. Knew it was only a matter of time. Don't tell me who; don't let her come back."
"Then we have a deal?"
The batarian blew out a puff of smoke and stood, which Leng did immediately as well. The shook hands, Leng more than reluctantly, and then they were both on their omnitools: Leng was having the money wired from his personal account (he couldn't imagine the Illusive Man's face if he took it from his company account), and the batarian was having her brought to his office.
"She'll be waiting outside in a minute," he said as a dismissal, and Leng nodded, and left quickly. The amount of emotion that had been through the conversation surprised him, actually. The batarians had cared for a human girl? Odd. Strange. If he hadn't heard it for himself, he would have thought it absolutely ridiculous and impossible.
He waited. The batarians eyed him, but didn't comment, and went about their business. After a very long few minutes, she appeared, hands unwrapped and bag over her shoulder. "I've been told to go with you," she said, though she sounded confused and skeptical. He nodded, looking over her, and turned to leave. No one tried to stop him, and the guards opened the doors for them. He heard her have to rush to keep up with him. "Hello?" She wondered.
"I'll explain everything when we're off this station," he muttered from the side of his mouth, not looking at her.
"Look, if you expect me to—"
"All I ask is that we are silent while on this station. As soon as we get on my ship, ask anything you wish." She nodded visibly, and he continued to lead the way. Once they reached the docks, his pace quickened, and she had to rush to keep up.
He punched the controls to his ship, which would have opened anyway with his omnitool, and they both stepped inside to be disinfected. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she collapsed to the floor, bag dropping.
"Okay, what the fuck?" She wondered, looking up at him.
"I bought you and the funds might not quite be what I promised your previous owner."
"Wait, what?"
He gave her a very sly grin. "I suggest we leave. It is much better if the authorities not find us here." He walked through the doors as they opened, and she scrambled to follow.
"You bought me?"
"Yes," he said simply, slipping into his pilot's seat and powering on the engine. He glanced back at her. "Sit down." She sat in the co-pilot's seat, and strapped on her seatbelt without him having to say a word.
"So… I'm still a slave."
"If you want to be," he said in a dull tone, eyes up on the panels, then back down to the screen as he plotted the course. "Entirely up to you."
"I'm… free to choose?"
"I represent an elite group of humans, fighting to protect human causes. I wanted you, and I offer to train you. However, the choice is yours. I can simply drop you off at the next stop, if you so wish." They pull off the station, and he speeds off, pretending not to hear the alarms starting from below. She did, and turned to watch it recede, and then to him, looking at him with a careful eye. He let her for a moment before he glanced at her with a small smile.
"I don't even know your name."
"And you will not until you make your decision," he answered simply, leaning back into his chair and turning to look at her. "You can take all the time you need."