Disclaimer: Bioware owns almost all.

A/N: Thanks to everyone following along so far. This chapter is rated M for some mild violence.

Chapter 3

I believe it was in my seventeenth year that Arch outdid himself. I was polishing the silverware when I heard his familiar call.

"Jin? I need you."

I carefully returned the spoon to its place and the shine of the silver utensil dampened as I closed the drawer. Padding softly down the hall I presented myself before him, ready to answer whatever his pleasure might be. He looked down at me with warmth, an indulgent smile on his lips. Tilting my head upward he bade me meet his eyes. I did as I was asked and his excitement grew.

Wrapping his arm around me we moved across the room and he gestured to a garment bag hanging out of place on the door of his wardrobe. I looked at him curiously, not understanding exactly what it was that he wanted.

"It's for you, Jin. Open it."

I ignored the confusion bursting inside my skull and again did as I was asked. The sound of the zipper echoed through the silence of the room, followed by the hiss of the fabric as the bag fell open. My eyes widened in awe. There before me was the most beautiful red dress I had ever seen. I dared reach out to touch it, and encouraged by the widening smile on Arch's face, I pulled it fully out of its protective casing.

"I bought it for you, Jin. Try it on."

It took a moment for the words to fully sink in. I was used to Arch's gifts of perfume and soaps, books and media, but a dress? I was unsure what to make of it but complied, shedding my meager servant's clothing and letting it pool on the floor beneath me. Careful not to damage the delicate red fabric with my clumsiness, I pulled it over my head, smoothing it down the length of my body. It fit perfectly, save for the bust and hips, which held more room than my young figure could fill.

Arch reached for me, spinning me around to face him, admiring the bright color contrasting against the bronze shade of my skin. He smiled appreciatively, but it quickly faded as he noted the gaps in the form fitting dress. Frowning, he whistled harshly, and a team of womenfolk I didn't recognize spilled into the room. He gestured in irritation at my body, explaining to them about my less than voluptuous figure, and they quickly bombarded me with all manner of instruments. I endured their clucking, their disdain, as they worked to alter the dress to better fit my wiry frame. I endured the torment as I always did.

Arch clasped his hands together in a show of approval when they were done. He turned me around to face the mirror and I had to admit he was right; the dress fit me beautifully, the delicate sheen of the fabric molded perfectly to my slim curves. He nodded, and dismissed the seamstresses, their presence only to be replaced by a second gaggle of women. They sat me down in a nearby chair and immediately started commenting about my hair's lack of upkeep. Startled at this revelation I looked questioningly to Arch who merely nodded and left the room. Apparently, watching me have my hair done was not nearly as entertaining as watching me get dressed.

They worked vigorously to brush the knots out of my hair, adding all manner of product to smooth it down and make it pliable, only to immediately wash it out. I had no concept of their motives, and remember briefly wondering why women continued to torture themselves in this manner, if only to have shiny hair. I gave up trying to figure it out when they turned me back to the mirror.

It took me a moment to recognize the haunted face that stared back at me, eyes like an owl's framed by glowing amber ringlets. I was shocked by my appearance, the difficulty in recognizing myself, not that I had ever paid much attention to mirrors before. No longer did a small child peer back at me. A young woman had taken her place.

The last part of my torment entered the room as the stylists left in the form of a large woman carrying an equally large, colorful box. By this time I had learned not to wonder what was in strange crates, but was pleasantly surprised when she opened the lid. A myriad of rainbows spilled out, make-up for what I could only assume were species other than human.

She was gentle with me, and I found myself silently thanking her for that. She tilted my head back and applied a cool, rich cream to my face. I had never imagined having my face massaged would be such an oddly pleasurable experience. I kept my eyes closed as she added a dusting of color to my cheeks and lips, a thin line of depth to my eyes. I remember her saying something about how youth need not look whorish.

It was over quickly, and when I opened my eyes she was gone. I turned to look at my reflection, once more surprised by what I saw. A healthy glow suffused my face, and long lashes framed dark eyes. Arch approached from behind me, laying his hands on my shoulders as he studied my appearance in the mirror.

"You are beautiful, Jin. Come with me. I have another surprise for you."

I like to think that even the most intelligent of women could be taken in by a line like that, and in my youth I was hardly the exception. He placed his hands over my eyes, leading me blindly forward. My steps were tentative, hesitant, careful not to accidentally wander into one of his prized possessions and render it worthless through my clumsiness.

I could smell his scent on his palms, deep and rich, a hint of gunmetal mixed with flesh. He sat me down on the sofa, my body sinking into the soft cushions, and pulled his hands from my eyes. Before me was a collection of books piled high on the center table. I blinked in disbelief, shocked that so many books could be in one location; and they were mine? I glanced up at Arch, the longing and surprise plain on my face and he chuckled in response to my eager innocence. No doubt I would have to perform well tonight for this extravagance.

He settled down beside me and gestured back towards the table. "They're all yours, Jin. Do you like them?"

I kissed him then, willingly, with both meaning and purpose, but without thought. My affection toward him had become a reflex born of training, and now gratitude. I dove into the pile of books as his smile widened, white teeth gleaming as he sipped a brandy. He had trained me well, and he knew it.

I grew so lost in my search of the literature that I almost failed to see the hunger in his eyes. Book upon book graced my hand and I handled each one with the delicacy of a fragile egg. Topics ranging from chemistry and biology to politics and anthropology covered the table, and I scanned only the cover synopses, understanding that Arch would not approve of my inattention for long. I replaced the books I had taken, stacked them neatly back on the table, and thanked him once more.

My hand was hot on his leg as I kissed him again, the brandy sharp on his tongue. He trailed his touch down my arm, fingers gently caressing my skin, but I knew he would not take me quite yet; not after he had spent all that time getting me ready. No, Arch had something else planned, something other than what I had seen so far. I was both eager and apprehensive to find out just what exactly he had in store for me. I learned soon enough.

He grabbed a wrap from the garment bag, a delicate accessory of the same red fabric, and draped it over my shoulders. We walked through the halls of his home, the whispers of the servants echoing as I passed, the guards sharing knowing looks at their posts. What I had expected, I cannot say, but it certainly didn't involve leaving the apartments. I had not, in all the time living with Arch, ever left his home. For the first time in ten years, that was about to change.

His car was waiting for us, black and sleek, gaudy gold trim lining the seams. I found it to be garish and in poor taste, reminding me all too much of his dead wife, and a mixture of emotion flooded me at her memory. Twisted satisfaction churned in my gut knowing that I was enjoying the fineries that she no longer could. I was riding in the fancy car, and I bathed in the expensive soaps, and she was dead.

I kept my thoughts silent as I slid into the back seat of the car, Arch's driver waiting patiently for me to situate myself. It would not do to share my feelings with Arch as he would find it irritating and childish. I knew better than to consider myself his equal, or that he cared for my opinion at all. He shifted on the seat beside me, black leather upholstery creaking as he did so, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders to pull me close. Many emotions filtered through my system that evening, but what I remember most was awe.

The hum of the engines tickled my ears as we took off, rising slightly in pitch as the car accelerated. I gazed out the tinted windows at the other passers-by, personal transports and cabs flitting by in a haze of color as we sped onward. I noticed Arch observing me and turned my attention toward him, flashing my most brilliant smile, appreciative of his gifts, of his attention. He cupped my chin in smooth hands, his thumb tracing the shape of my lips as his eyes continued to hunger. I briefly wondered for a moment if he was going to take me in the car, but he dropped his hands suddenly, leaving the ache of absence on my skin.

We touched down on a brightly lit landing pad, traffic lights flashing in Omega's eternal glow. The driver exited first, opening the door for Arch, followed shortly by me. The guards arrived in the car after us, plain and drab in a standard conveyance compared to Arch's lavish mode of transportation. They fell in step behind us, dutiful and alert, but I could feel their eyes upon me and a mixture of excitement and revulsion flared in my veins. Given the way Arch eyed me I suspected he found me very appealing, but the idea that others might find me desirable as well was intriguing.

Arch wrapped his arm around me as we entered the club, not in any sort of protective manner, but to make others aware that I was his. I hardly noticed the meaning of his touch, so enthralled with the atmosphere was I. The bass thundered throughout, the energetic beat resounding off the floors and pounding in my blood. Artificial flames flicked up the sides of the entryway, burning but not burning the walls around us. Scantily clad dancers seemed to hover in the air, their movements artful and serene, lithe bodies gracing the narrow platforms.

I suddenly understood why Arch lusted after the dancers, tempted by their exotic beauty and blatant sensuality. I briefly imagined myself as one of them, desired by men, powerful in my control, curvaceous body beneath my skin. I let the moment pass, knowing that it would never be and to dwell on such things only brought misery. I looked down at my meager curves with resignation, wishing that my body would grow and conform to the demands of my desires. As youth demanded, such juvenile fantasies dominated my waking hours.

Our party was led through the walkways and onto the balconies, the flames growing ever higher as we ascended. The top tier was virtually blazing, artificial flames licking the ceiling. Arch released his hold on me, and engaged in discussion with his guard regarding his security concerns, no doubt. I wandered to the side by the railing, peering over the edge and admiring the dancers below. From this height, it looked as if they were swimming in a sea of light.

Before I realized, Arch was once more beside me, his vision directed toward the women who held my attention rapt. I saw a flicker of humor cross his face as his eyes crinkled almost merrily, and he placed my hand in his.

"Sit, my dear. The meeting is about to start and I would like you to join me."

I dragged my attention away from the visual intoxication below and met the dark glittering of his eyes. He had recognized my curiosity, but was in no mood to entertain it. Instead I obeyed, acknowledging his orders and fulfilling his requests. I was, however, unprepared to meet face to face with the pirate queen of Omega itself, although I did not learn of her "title" until much later.

Compared to what I had witnessed in vids, Aria wasn't the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. Her eyes were close set, too piercing to invite casual attraction. The curve of her jaw was rounded, undefined, and lacking in dimension. However, despite her less exotic appearance, she was the most enticing being that I had ever encountered. Power drifted off her body in waves, knowledge, intelligence, control. She was incredibly alluring, and I raked my eyes over her form, pausing with interest on the line of her neck. At the time I knew little about her and I idly wondered at her status on Omega.

Her skin was flawless, a creamy cerulean hue that begged to be caressed. I longed to trace my fingers down that perfect skin, to inhale the scent as I buried my face in her flesh. Never before had I been drawn to anyone, pulled in such a powerful manner by the sheer force of their presence.

I looked away, wrenching my attention from her body and the delights it held, focusing instead on my own sad reality. Arch ignored me during the meeting and it did not take me long to realize I was there for decoration. He wanted to show me off, a young prize to garner attention from his fellows. Of course, I don't think even he expected Aria to take an interest in my presence.

They had finished negotiating terms and had the celebratory round of drinks delivered, Arch ordering his guard to check for contaminants in the liquor. I looked up as Aria stood to leave, catching the faint hint of humor on her lips. She could have them killed at any time. It was her club, after all. To think that Arch would be paranoid about poisons at this stage in the game was, from what I could tell by her expression, amusing.

Warmth suffused my body as her lips curled slightly upward, the shadow of a dimple on her cheek begging for my caress. Before I could remove my desperate gaze she turned her attention toward me, eyes sharp and penetrating, taking in my dolled-up appearance. I refused to shrink beneath her gaze, knowing full well that I was but a child in a woman's costume. Against my better judgment I brazenly met her eyes, forcing myself to withstand the power of her attention.

Once more her lips quirked slightly upward. For a fleeting second I recognized something familiar in her, and then the blanket of professionalism fell, her mirth gone. She turned to Arch, lilting voice suggesting nothing more than a passing, casual interest in my person. Arch minimized my presence by his side, stating that I was nothing more than his entertainment. Even though I hated to admit it, deep within I knew it to be the truth.

"A little young, isn't she Arch?"

An open question, carried on the strength of her voice and Arch paused in his cups. I saw him grow flustered then. Oh, it was not overtly noticeable to those not so intimately acquainted with him as I, but judging by the slight twitch of the muscle of his jaw, Arch was at a loss for words. He set his drink down, glass clinking lightly against the table top, and he had to force himself to meet her eyes.

"She is mine."

Aria nodded in understanding, shooting another hot glance in my direction, eyes burrowing deeply. I saw the gears turning in her mind in that crisp moment in such a way as I had never witnessed in Arch. I like to think in that instant, she recognized something familiar in me as well.

Our gathering at the club ended rather abruptly after that. Arch tossed his head back, downed his drink and stood, pulling me along behind him. Guards surrounded us as we made our way through the mass of patrons, crowds parting for our armed entourage. I struggled to keep up, the form fitting dress causing me some difficulty in my movements, my first time in heels further hindering our flight. Arch dragged me along regardless, and luckily, the delicate fabric of my dress did not rip with the haste of our exit.

At times I had to search for things to things to appreciate, even if they might seem small and meaningless to others. Yes, luckily my dress did not rip, my heels did not break, and I was able to keep up with Arch as his anger drove him from Afterlife. I was thankful, and thanking fate, or luck, was one of few mechanisms to maintaining my sanity, lest my will be broken completely. However, my gratefulness had bounds and I was never one to thank a deity as I detested the religious scene: too many bodies dumped in the drainage pipes growing up.

We arrived at the car, gaudy gold trim sparkling with the sheen of Omega's lights, grease coating the surface of the landing pad on which we stood. Arch moved to enter the car, but stopped suddenly, considering. He opened the door and reached into the side compartment, pulling out his pair of matching pistols and his shoulder holster. Checking the ammo count on each, and then the safety, he shrugged off his jacket and pulled on the holster, tossing his coat uselessly across the car seat. He gestured to his guards.

"We're going hunting."

It had been ten years since I had wandered the streets of Omega and very little had changed in the intervening years, except that now I was in a fancy dress. Filth still lined the streets, gutters overflowing with raw sewage where the piping had burst, rusted away from years of neglect and age. Vagrants still walked its halls, mumbling, begging, stealing, although very few bothered us as we traversed the area with armed guards. Shady merchants hawked ever shadier wares, the lights of their stalls flicking wildly as the power supply fluctuated. And through it all, I stepped cautiously, careful not to get my new shoes dirty; strange, my priority at the time.

"Here," Arch announced suddenly. "This'll do."

Our group paused and I looked on in confusion as Arch unlatched his holster and pulled out one of his pistols. He cocked the hammer and aimed down the hall, firing suddenly into the distance. The shot echoed against the metal piping and I winced involuntarily against the brilliant cacophony. It buzzed in my ears even after the echo had faded, tickling my senses and dulling my thoughts. I watched as Arch stalked further down the hall and opened fire again.

Our group followed closely behind him, armed guards on edge and wary. I tried to peer over their shoulders, to see just what Arch was hunting, but their armored forms hindered my search for understanding. It wasn't until we passed the first victim that I realized what his hunting entailed. I remember later, after I asked him, he described it as "thinning out the ranks of homeless." The vagrants that lined the streets were considered as useful to him as the waste that spilled from the piping, but Arch always took pleasure where he could find it.

I wasn't shocked at the scene, not really. I had seen death when Mother and I first arrived on Omega and thereafter, but I had never been witness to a murder before. My gut twisted and I choked back a cry, knowing it would serve only to anger Arch further. I had learned the reality of Omega long ago: only the strong survive and feed off the weak. Living that reality was another matter entirely. Shame, disgust, excitement, and relief churned within me and I latched on to logic. I was not shot. I was alive. I was living in relative safety. I decided in that moment that I could stomach another's pointless death if it meant that my safety and security would remain intact. I chose to feel relief that Arch was not pointing his gun at me.

A series of shots rang throughout the halls as the activities of Omega carried on without interruption. Nobody intervened with Arch's hunting because nobody cared. Even I remained indifferent, and then grew bored, as our group followed him up and down the dank alleyways as he searched for more targets.

He turned to me after putting a bullet in another head, recognizing the lack of interest splayed across my face. It was then that he approached me with his gun, offering to show me how to use it, how to hunt with him. We stood in the middle of a dingy hallway, dressed in our finery and surrounded by poor lighting, armed guards, and rotting pipes as he gave me my first lesson in firearms. My boredom dissipated.

He stood behind me and wrapped my arms in his, cradling my hands as he positioned them on the pistol's grip. I found that I enjoyed this attention, as it was the first time ever he looked to me with interest absent his carnal desires. My appreciation for him grew in that instant, and I wanted nothing more than to please him. Together, his hands firm on mine, we squeezed the trigger and the slight kick of his pistol both exhilarated and frightened me.

He chuckled throatily at my expression, and then proceeded to instruct me on safety, aim, and general usage. He bade me practice on my own and I squeezed off a few rounds, the report resounding off the metal walls and down the hall. Excitement lit his eyes and the hunger returned, and I shrank slightly back within myself, feeling that I had somehow disappointed him.

He pulled his other pistol from its holster and our group moved forward, meandering through the alleys while Arch hunted for more targets. Prey was scarce as the vagrants had recognized death and abandoned their usual haunts. Arch grew more agitated the further we went, the halls growing more dilapidated, and he finally halted, smiling in triumph as he spied a sleeping form. He pulled me to his side and gestured to the vagrant on the ground.

I frowned at the anonymous individual, covered in filth, the stink of him permeating my nostrils and clinging to my skin. I felt dirty in his presence, as if his stench was contagious. Arch's eyes gleamed wickedly and he gestured again to the homeless being on the ground.

"Go ahead, Jin. Take a shot."

I was shocked. I had thought our gunplay was just a lesson, a new form of entertainment for Arch. I didn't expect to use those lessons any time soon, but I had been wrong many times that night. Why would this be any different?

The pistol was cool against the palm of my hand, the grip rough, catching on my skin. I felt its weight, light and small, easy to conceal, easy to carry. I grasped it firmly in both hands as Arch had taught me, lining up the sights even though it was unnecessary. My target was not more than five feet from me. Aligning the sights was merely for show, for Arch's benefit so he would know I had been listening. I fingered the trigger, hard metal scraping against my fingertips and I gradually applied pressure.

The figure before me stirred, eyes opening slightly beneath the layers of dust and decay that covered him. Blue, like the color of the oceans I imagined in my books, stared back at me from below, realization dawning in their depths. He paused, frightened, cornered, and I imagine the scene before him was incredibly surreal. I know it was for me.

Arch hissed something in my ear and my hands shook. I looked into those eyes, recognized the signature of Omega in their blue depths, and let my hands drop to my sides. I couldn't do it, and I knew I would pay the price.

I recoiled in sudden panic as Arch unloaded a clip into the homeless man before me. The intensity of the barrage was deafening as it resonated off the leaky piping and faded metal walls. I watched the vagrant crumple, the deep blue of his eyes fading as the life drained from his decrepit body. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him, trickling in a line toward the drainage pipes already overflowing with refuse. I looked to the ground as it drew near and stepped back, still mindful of my shoes.

Furious, Arch grabbed my arm and wrenched me around to face him, dark eyes seething and breath still reeking of alcohol. He slapped me with his free hand, and then again. My head whipped around wildly, wisps of hair drifting into my eyes courtesy of his punishment. I had chosen this, had chose not to obey his orders. I had known this was going to happen although the knowledge rarely prepared me. I would pay for my disobedience upon our return, and he would have plenty of time to devise new tortures on our ride home.

I had yet to master the lesson of subservience.