Disclaimer: Bioware owns almost all.

A/N: Apologies for the late post. Real life has been interrupting my fictional one. This chapter is rated M for violence.

Chapter 8

"Get your shoes on, Jin. We're going out."

I did as instructed, pulled my shoes from beneath the bed and slipped them on. Quickly, I marked my place in the new chemistry book I had downloaded, and snapped off my omni-tool. Arch did not like it when my attentions were diverted from him and I did not want to lose the privilege of my 'tool. It had benefitted me in ways I hadn't even imagined.

We made haste down the hallways and out the door to where his gaudy car waited. I piled in next to him, a question on my lips. I had no idea where we were going or what he had planned. My ignorance unnerved me, although I had also learned it was not always best to know the details. I was curious as to his plans, but I knew better than to ask. Arch would tell me at his leisure if he so chose.

The seat vibrated under expensive upholstery as we took off, the field dampeners minimizing the turbulence of traffic. The car hummed softly, the sensation tickling my skin. Arch shot me a quick smile before reaching for his pistols. He handed one to me before buckling his holster, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

I did as he had taught me. I checked the safety, secured it, and put the pistol aside until we touched down. It would not do to handle a loaded weapon while we were in transit. I recognized the light in his eyes and he brushed my cheek with a soft kiss. It would have been a sweet moment, save that I realized we were en route to kill something.

As per routine, Arch got out first assisted by the driver and I followed. He adjusted the straps of his shoulder holster, securing the fit. I checked the ammo count of his pistol, and noting a full clip, secured it in my waistband. I had learned to make do without the convenience of a holster and Arch seemed to find my ingenuity amusing.

The guards had arrived before us and secured the perimeter. Arch spoke briefly with the captain of his guard, their tones low and the words unrecognizable to my ears. I contented myself with idle musings while I waited. We had landed in a lower region of Omega, one I was not familiar with. Grime traced a path through the alleyways as everywhere else on Omega, the decrepit stench of biological waste and refuse clogging my nostrils. The stink was more potent than anywhere I'd ever been, and I soon recognized why. Vorcha were nesting nearby and I suppressed a disgusted shudder.

In a futile attempt to escape the foul air I crossed the landing pad and surveyed the bland vista beyond. The countless personal transports lit up Omega's innards, doing little to distract from the garish glow of its industrial lighting. Even here, the warmth trickled down from above, the eezo mining companies working at maximum efficiency with little regard for their workers. I had heard a report of another accident in the refineries that day, but paid little heed. The refineries were known to occasionally malfunction. It was one of Arch's favorite places to stage an assassination for that very reason.

He once told me that assassination was why he had commissioned his matching pistols. Arch desired more personalized protection after an attempt on his life years ago. It had failed, of course, but he had learned a dire lesson. From then on, the two pistols went wherever he did. I pulled the small weapon from my waistband and traced the subtle pattern on the grip. It was etched lightly in black, a stylized symbol I did not recognize. I made a mental note to do a search on it when time allowed.

Arch stepped up next to me, his eyes directed toward the same bland vista I observed. We stood there for a time, the silence stretching between us. I look back and realize that it was an oddly comfortable moment between us, the kind only two people intimately familiar with each other can share. I understood him and I like to think he recognized that, even if he wasn't always the most generous of lovers. In my mind, that was our last moment of peace before everything slowly started to go awry.

He turned toward me, his somber mood dissipating, and caught my eye. I knew it was time to go. Our entourage moved through the grit of Omega's lower alleyways, twisting and turning through the grime. The thickness of the air choked me, the stink of vermin clogging my nostrils. Arch did not seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to grow even more excited the worse the stench became. I knew without a doubt what he intended and my stomach churned at the thought.

Much as I suspected, we came upon a vorcha nest, but it was nothing like I had seen before. Heaps of refuse covered the floor of an abandoned warehouse, waste spilling from the punctured pipes above. Viscous fluid dripped down upon us and a webbing of stains streaked across the walls. The nest was enormous, as was the stench. I choked again, doing my best to ignore the reek of decay permeating the air. I was moved to retch on my boots but held my urge in check. Arch would not approve of such a show of weakness.

At Arch's signal the guards fanned out. I believed them to be securing the perimeter at the time, but in reality, they were blocking the exits and sabotaging the pipes. A trio of guards stayed behind with Arch and I, monitoring the area until the others returned. Arch pulled his pistol from its holster and began pacing restlessly. I could see the energetic enthusiasm in his eyes and my gorge threatened to rise again.

We made our way onto the catwalk above, flanked on either side by the guards. Arch overlooked the trash heap below as if he was surveying his realm and readied his gun. The soft click of the pistol echoed through the space as he chambered a round. I followed suit. I knew what I had to do, but I didn't have to like it.

Smoke drifted lazily through the air as sparks ignited in the corner. The fire caught quickly and spread like a vile wind across the dank refuse. Vorcha scurried out of their nesting holes and scrambled along the piles of trash. Some were consumed in the flames and I could hear their strangled cries, gurgling in pain as their bodies melted in the heat. Chemicals spilled from the sabotaged pipes above, feeding the fire and dissolving the skin. I had never witnessed the effects of Omega's industrial wastes on flesh until that night, and I still have yet to forget the image.

Flesh slipped from bone and even the vorcha's regenerative abilities were of little use. They hissed at us, safe on our perch from the chemicals and fires, only to be swallowed by death. Desperate cries rang out, echoing across the large space until finally falling blessedly silent.

What few vorcha escaped the flames and dripping waste plunged headlong into our gunfire. Arch was near beaming with excitement, carnage and suffering heightening his amusement. I fired on the vorcha, not to please Arch, and not because I hated them. I opened fire to end their suffering. Nothing, not even vermin should be exterminated by the cruel means Arch had devised.

Vorcha scattered in all directions, searching for an escape that did not exist. Arch's men had been thorough in their duties, and not even the rotted piping was overlooked. The pistol warmed to my touch as I emptied a magazine into the fray, and I slammed in another clip fast. My adrenaline pumped, coursing wildly through my veins. I grew excited by the action, the need for survival. I felt alive and I was disgusted with myself.

The flames grew high, licking the walls and reaching toward the ceiling. The chemical fumes wafted on the air. As the cries of the damned faded amidst the blaze, Arch gestured to his guards. We made our way off the catwalk and out of the warehouse. The captain sealed the doors and activated the containment system. Omega's safety protocols would take over and vent the hold, extinguishing the fire and minimizing the chemical spill in one fell swoop. It also served to hide our indiscretions, which mattered little. No one cared about vorcha.

Arch pulled me against his body and pressed his lips to mine. His kiss was deep and heady, almost as if he longed to devour me. I gave in to his passions and answered his desires as I had been trained, stifling a cry as he pushed me roughly against a dingy wall. I was aware that his guards were watching our every move and I cringed inwardly, shame welling up within. I feared he would take me there, for all to see. Fate, however, could be kind. Or so I thought.

"Sir, we have a call coming in."

Arch paused in his movements and I stilled as well, unwilling to make a move lest it distract him. He questioned the guard, voice low and menacing, irritated that he had been interrupted in his pursuits.

"It's him."

Arch turned away from me, my body chilled by his sudden absence. I smoothed my clothing and wiped the grime from my top, looking back with disdain at the grungy wall that had been my support. I waited patiently by the car while Arch took his call, the darkness on his face lifting slightly. Apparently, he had been awaiting this particular contact, and neither I nor hunting would interfere with his plans.

He turned back toward the captain of his guard and barked out orders. We hurriedly made our way back to the car and took off without preamble. Arch stayed quiet and distant throughout the car ride. He stared nowhere, his eyes focused out the window while I awaited his pleasure. I remained still and silent, unwilling to broach the topic of our destination. Arch would tell me if he wanted me to know, and as of yet, that was not the case.

His excitement had returned, but it was not the same as on the hunt. Arch resonated with a cool confidence, an energy that I had only witnessed prior to one of his business meetings. I wondered if perhaps this was an impromptu meeting with an important and elusive client, but at the time, I could only speculate.

I had been only partially correct. We arrived at an empty cargo bay belonging to one of Arch's dummy corporations. It was filled with all manner of shipping crates and containers stacked to the ceiling. A large freighter had docked and unloaded its goods. I could see from the view in the car that it was no ordinary cargo. Slaves, filthy and ragged, had lined up just off the loading ramp, their dark collars heavy and thick against raw skin. I looked away. I didn't want to see their faces.

We touched down smoothly and Arch was out of the car before the driver had a chance to assist him. I, however, accepted his smooth hand and stepped out into the hold. It was a different scene to what I was used to, and the flicker of the bay's magnetic seals unnerved me. I was not comfortable being so close to open space with only a thin layer of technology protecting me. Granted, Omega had been known to experience the occasional explosive decompression due to neglect and decay, but I still felt relatively safe within its metal womb. The cargo bay felt too open for my liking.

I followed Arch and his guarded escort, unwilling to stay behind despite how much I wanted to. I remembered the pistol still secured in my waistband and a trickle of comfort stirred within me. The metal against my body was familiar, comfortable. I liked the feel of it.

I caught up with him as Arch was examining the stock, their pathetic rags barely covering flesh. They looked to the ground, trained to avoid eye contact; all save one. A young girl on the end of the lineup stood straight, brazenly meeting Arch's eyes. I heard a sound escape his lips resembling something akin to humor and he turned to the slaver.

"What's the story with this one?" Arch gestured to the girl on the end.

"Eh?" The batarian threw down his cigarette, crushing it beneath his booted heel before continuing. "That one's new. Hasn't been broke yet."

I saw a familiar smile crease his face, eyes alight with excitement. My heart fluttered in my chest as I studied the girl. Dark hair covered her dirty face and dark eyes peeked out from beneath long lashes. I recognized Arch's tastes instantly and a surprising hint of jealousy welled up within. I snuffed out the feeling, knowing full well I could do nothing. I could only hope Arch would bypass her in favor of tame stock. As was usual for me, hope failed.

Arch purchased the young girl and one additional slave after haggling with the batarian. I could hear their raised voices as I made my way back to the car, sick with emotional muck. As I slid onto the seat I decided I would practice patience. I would wait and see how this new slave would react to captivity. Perhaps she would be like the other one and bend to the abuse of the household staff, or perhaps not. From the look in her eyes, however, I knew she was a survivor. I knew she was like me.

He was full of energy upon his return to the car, his eyes eager with anticipation. Arch took me on the ride home, forcing his body on mine with little artistry. Our coupling was akin to the rutting of animals and it was not over soon enough for me. I was once again reminded of my place at Arch's side and it had just grown precarious. I was, for all intents and purposes, replaceable.

Patience would only get me so far. I had to make myself useful, versatile. Asari forms and vorcha hunting were activities anyone could learn. I needed to become unique. If I was going to be replaced, then I was going to be prepared.

Arch left early for work the next morning and left me to my usual devices. Little did he know what I had been researching, blind to the existence of my privacy mod, ignorant of the bug I had planted in his personal terminal. Accessing his files had become a daily habit of mine, and like Arch, I was comfortable with routine.

It was during one of my extranet searches when one of my anonymous contacts pinged me. I had sent out a request for additional information on the asari forms, specifically, their practice as it related to defense. My contact had answered swiftly, as if they were already familiar with the subject matter, and linked me to an informative site. I downloaded the file and drank in the knowledge, my mind reeling with the potential possibilities. I had to try it out.

Locking the bedroom door I searched Arch's closet, excitement and fear coursing through my veins. His clothes brushed against my face and I couldn't help but inhale his scent. Involuntarily my chest ached and guilt blossomed in my gut. I pushed it down, away, ignoring the ramblings of my stupid heart and focused on my task. I smiled upon finding my goal, lifting the latch and releasing the hidden drawer beneath his wardrobe.

I stepped back and pulled the drawer fully open. I ignored the many implements stored within, memories of both pleasure and pain floating to the surface of my mind. Searching through the drawer I discovered my goal. The gilded knife had been lovingly cared for. It was in pristine condition and absent the stains of the flesh it had marred. I twirled it in my hands experimentally. From what I could tell, it was well made.

Blade in hand, I synced my omni-tool up to the vid screen. The new information merged with the old and I slid smoothly through the modified forms. The knife was cool in my palm as I moved and the warmth of satisfaction flowed through me. I smiled and decided to learn about irony.