I didn't become a spy for the life expectancy. I did it for the excitement, for the intrigue. Because it was exciting and because I was good at it. I enjoyed secrets – both obtaining them and keeping them. I was a cold woman, this I knew, and it gave me an edge. I didn't get attached. I didn't get... sentimental. I could play my roles well enough and it served me well, befriending the powerful and then taking their secrets and sending them to their ruin. I delighted in the power that gave me.

Power has a price, however, and it seemed that the time had come to pay up.

I was on my back, stunned by the fall. I lay in a heap of shattered boards and I tasted blood, a foul taste, like the edge of a knife. My body was not answering me, my limbs heavy and sluggish to my call, and even my mind felt dim. Like I'd been drugged. My vision swam back and forth, in and out, and for a long moment I could only see patches of light and dark, fragments darting here and there like fish in the water. Too long a moment. Ample time for my pursuer to catch up. He moved like a bird and it seemed that each time I blinked he was in a different location – first, high above on the next story, just at the point where the floor had given out. Eaten by rot and neglect, no doubt. I'd chosen my escape poorly. Then, a flit of movement, and he was crouched on a metal girder, then another flit and he was closer. Then, he was by my side, dropping to one knee.

I tried to turn my head to look at him but a wave of nausea battered at me and I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. Taking in the blood that clung to my mouth, seeping from a broken lip and where I'd bitten my cheek in the fall. I coughed and the movement sent spikes of agony through my chest. I'd broken a rib as well, it seemed.

There was a touch at my wrist. Gloved hands, lifting my arm a fraction. I felt a pressure against my fingers and I tried to pull my hand away. The gesture was weak and ultimately futile, but the man relented and let my arm fall lax by my side again. He was surprisingly gentle in how he handled me. This was not what I expected, all things considered. I was a spy. He'd gone through the documents in my safe, he knew what I was doing. That the fleet of three ships I owned was a front, bought by money from overseas, and that all my gallivanting in the courtly circles was far more than just currying favor with potential business interests. And when I'd realized that someone had been in my room – when I realized I was undone – and fled -

As fleet of foot as I was, as agile as I could be, he was better. And it seemed no matter how I ran, he was just there with me. I felt he was merely keeping pace, that he could stop me at any time, and I realized he was wearing me out. Like walking a deer to death. So I'd taken a risk, tried to lose him in a building I would never have normally touched, and here we were now. Myself, broken in the rubble of my fall; him, at my side. Considering if I should live or die. Bodies were easy enough to dispose of in Dunwall. There were still rat swarms left from the plague, if one knew where to look.

I felt his hand press against my abdomen and I grunted, but the pain was negligible. He turned my head to side and I felt his fingers in my hair, drawing it away from the scalp. That did hurt and I moaned softly and he let go while I fought off another wave of sickness. My body felt too hot, as if a fire had been lit inside me. I was on the verge of losing consciousness.

"You'll live for now," the man finally said. I recognized his voice and something inside me went very cold and very still. "Didn't break your spine, don't seem to be bleeding inside. The blow to the head is a concern, but nothing to do about that one but wait and see."

"Lord Protector," I whispered. "I'm pleased you seem to have my well-being in mind."

A pause. It seemed he was not one for my humor. It was all I had left to me at the moment.

"I have questions," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "You can answer them now, or answer them later at Coldridge."

I understood the threat well enough. I tried to move my weakened body and there was a shift as he moved back, giving me room to sit up. It took some effort and he made no move to help me. Apparently the extent of his help was in ensuring I wasn't going to die on him anytime soon. Not until he'd gotten his answers, either with my cooperation, or through the coercion of whoever they gave me to at Coldridge. I'd considered such a fate before. It haunted anyone in my profession, in the dark hours of the night when we couldn't sleep and we never talked about it, not to each other, not to ourselves. We acted like that day would never come. Yet, here it was, and I found that the taste of it was like ash in my mouth and ice in my stomach. I was trembling and it wasn't just from the fall. I drew off my stained gloves to mask my shaking hands, though I doubted it would fool my captor. There were many stories about Corvo. I believed most of them.

"Why not just kill me?" I murmured. "Why chase me down like this, and risk losing your quarry entirely? You have plenty of information from what you found in my safe alone."

It was difficult to see his face in the pale moonlight. The windows had long since been broken but his back was to them, clouding his features in shadow. I could see little under the mantle of black hair that framed his face. I did think, however, that he smiled. A tight gesture with little humor and no warmth in it.

"You wouldn't have been able to shake me," he replied, "even if you'd not had this... misfortune."

He gestured at the shattered debris around us. I shivered. The certainty in his voice was unnerving. It wasn't a boast. It was a statement of fact. He knew his capabilities and he knew that mine were no match. I had to agree with his assessment, given our current situation.

"So what do you want to know?" I asked, turning my face up to regard him. Let him see whatever was there. Fear? Resolve? I wasn't even certain what my eyes would betray. It seemed my composure had finally been stripped away and I couldn't be more exposed here before him if I were naked. It was unsettling. Terrifying. This was how spies die, I thought. Bereft of secrets in the end.

"Your employer."

I laughed under my breath and turned my head away.

"Please. There are stories about you, Corvo. You don't need me to tell you this."

"Yes, I know who bought you that fleet. The paths of money have already been traced, we've already watched where your ships made dock. I meant your other employer."

Something inside me went tight. The muscles in my shoulders froze up and I felt them ache in response, sorely used this night and abused by the fall. It was an effort to force them to relax once more and I let out an unsteady breath. Careless.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," I replied. "It's dangerous for a spy to have two masters."

"But you do."

"No." I kept my gaze turned away from him, as if this would shield me. "No, I don't."

He shifted his stance, putting his weight forwards on one foot and his right hand snapped up, gripping the back of my hair. I cried out even as he forced my gaze up, compelling me to meet his eyes. The moonlight fell upon his face now and I saw the shadows in his cheek, the lines at the corner of his lips. I did not see anger there, nor hate. That surprised me. Was I not an enemy of his empire, of his empress, who he defended with a ferocity unmatched by any in the realm? Who he loved, some said, like a daughter? I saw resolve there, a cold certainty of what he would do – what must be done – and little else. Why didn't he hate me?

"I would have the other name, Karissa," he said evenly. "Give it to me here and this matter may remain between us. Otherwise, I will find it by other means. And you will give it up before the end."

"Speaking from personal experience?" I whispered. A low blow. I said it on instinct and regretted it. Some old darkness flashed across his face and his grip on the back of my hair tightened briefly. I closed my eyes as the pressure against the wound battered me with a wave of renewed agony. It took a moment before I could breathe again.

"Yes," he said, calmly, once I'd recovered. "I outlasted them. Perhaps you will too, but somehow, I doubt it."

"They say you dislike killing."

"You're alive, aren't you?" And now he finally sounded amused. A dark humor, perhaps. It was reassuring. I understood it. "I've condemned people to terrible fates though. You're no different than they."

He released me with a shove. I fell to the side and coughed as my chest flared with pain. Definitely a broken rib. I groaned as he stood and paced around my prone form, his arms crossed over his chest, his long jacket curling around his legs. These were not idle threats he was making. I'd manipulated enough people to know when they were bluffing. Corvo meant what he said.

I thought of my employers. The one master, not quite an enemy of his empress, but not quite an ally either. Curious. Intensely curious. With Dunwall recovering from the plague there were... opportunities here. The question of whether they should be negotiated or seized was one I was here to help answer. And the other employer? My other master? I shivered in the cold night air. Despite the mercy he'd shown me, I was afraid of him. Only a fool wouldn't be.

Yet... I was curious as to what the name would do. There was a history here; I'd been able to guess that much on my own.

"Daud," I whispered. "It's Daud. Calling in a favor-"

I didn't get any further than that. Corvo moved quick and I found myself seized by the front of my vest, bodily lifted from the ground. I was a small woman and for someone of Corvo's size and strength, this was easy enough to do. I struggled against him, my hands clawing at his wrist, but he spun me around and slammed me against the nearest beam, a metal pillar supporting the floor above us. I cried out, a strangled noise, and sucked in air, desperate to breathe despite the arm he had pressed against my neck. The other hand remained on my vest, holding me up so that my feet could not touch the ground. My vision was dark around the edges and my chest was on fire.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice finally bleeding emotion. Anger. Not for me, though I was the target of it at this moment. "Is he behind the attempts on Emily's life?"

I suppose something of surprise registered on my face. I could no longer think coherently, but that was enough of a shock to register in my fading mind. I'd heard of no such thing.

And I considered myself a spy. Poorly done, this.

"We're going to talk more about this," Corvo said, his voice tight. "You and I."

He released me. I collapsed to the ground and it seemed this was the last abuse my body could handle, for I lost all strength to my limbs and the darkness quickly rushed in around me. The last thing I saw was Corvo reaching down a hand for my prone form.

There was a rune there, etched on the back of his palm. I could see it, even through the leather of his glove.

Then I lost consciousness.

Author's Note: I promised myself no new projects and yet here I am. Oi. Anyway. Even with a low chaos play-through, Corvo does some pretty dark stuff. I want to try and capture that ruthlessness.

Also, you should check out my book on amazon. It's Mortal Gods by Bonnie Quinn.