Scene: 2183, Omega. Aria's orders, Nyreen's executions, their decline.
Yesterday, Nyreen personally took care of another Shadow Broker agent under Aria's employment: Afterlife dancer. Asari. Pretty little thing, at the peak of her maiden years if the dyed scalp and crest accessories were anything to go by. She had managed to get a scream in edgewise before Nyreen shot her point-blank in the chest. She shook her head at the blood pooling underneath the floor afterwards—the girl had been here barely a week. Immediately, the body was bagged and moved by someone else while she put away her pistol and returned upstairs to the couch where its de facto ruler had more orders to dispense.
Today, Nyreen's killed an Eclipse lieutenant who had snuck into one of Afterlife's weekly concerts as a band singer. Aria had noticed instantly after reading the itinerary earlier in the afternoon and promptly sent the message. Nyreen merely carried out its contents. Once again, the sprawl of cell-like rooms under Afterlife's main floor prove fairly useful as she leaves another body in one of them, wiping stray blood from her tunic. Salarian this time, a veteran from the looks of his armor and scar-nicked horns. A ping from her omni-tool lets her know that she's wanted on the main level again.
Tomorrow, Nyreen will receive an assignment. It will be typed in Aria's blunt, quick prose with a name, a location, and the usual follow-up. Like the dancer and the merc, she won't know their motives for crossing Omega's ruler unless she's foolish enough to ask. If she did, they'd give her the inevitable sob stories or careless bargains that would only take up space in her mind that's already filled with pathetic pleas and deals made to herself for continuing to do what she does for a woman she's learning to leave.
