Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, I suppose.

A/N: I decided to post a bit early in order to thank everyone who has been reading and/or reviewing. Just knowing that others take an interest in my twisted forays into sex, intrigue, and violence is an inspiration and great motivation. You all have made this a worthwhile venture. This chapter is rated M for the usual reasons, and without further delay, on to Jin's story...

Chapter 11

Nine years had passed since that night and I entered Aria's employ. During that time I had seen alien cultures and behavior I had never dreamed I would be witness to. Not even the literature prepared me for the sights that graced my vision. However, while the reality was far more educational, I preferred the written word. Books were fiction, the imitation of life and therefore romanticized. I still had occasion to fancy, although those moments were growing few and far between.

I had matured into a woman, driven by the knowledge and talents up of my upbringing. However, never was my youthful fantasy fulfilled. At times I would envy the dancers their voluptuous curves, graceful figures trailing sex in their wake. The many patrons in Afterlife stared after them with blatant lust on their faces, oblivious of their surroundings, enamored with the explosion of sensuality parading before them. It was at times irritating, as my own slender frame did not garner such attention. However, if they wanted a drink with which to drown their desires, then they would have to seek me out eventually.

It was Aria's idea to put me to work in her club. I understood how Omega worked, but my face was new. Only few had ever seen me before and were unlikely to recognize me out of context. I agreed, willing to accept the job she provided, ignorant in the beginning of the true purpose of my work. I had already established my worth and willingness to kill and Aria thought to put me to use. What better place to hide an assassin than in plain sight?

Naivety blinded me at first. I was more than happy to be away from Arch and did not look to be used again so soon. However, Aria desired to make use of her newest investment, and I was made aware of her intent. She instructed me not on the kill, but on the trap; how to spin a web of entanglement so as to achieve my goal. While she did not order me to terminate my target outright, as it was information she desired, Aria was not adverse to his end.

It was during this, my first assignment, in which I learned of the breadth of my anger and my own capability for torture. I am not necessarily proud of what I did, but neither do I regret it. Despite his treatment of me, I fared far better than his slaves, but Brulin Ton was a monster. I had no qualms in dealing with him as I saw fit.

I had been working for Aria only two weeks when she gave me the assignment, but already had developed a feel for Afterlife's pulse. She placed me in the seedy lower bar, dance music blazing in my ears, patrons shouting for drinks above the din. It had been a horrendous day and all I wanted was to retreat to the break room and down a bourbon shooter. After the initial rush, I had thought my troubles over. I overlooked him as he took a seat at the bar, rotund belly barely contained beneath the counter. His jowls quivered as he shouted across the bar to me and I watched as realization dawned in his beady eyes. A harsh bark of laughter escaped his greasy lips and I suppressed a shudder of disgust.

"Why Jin," he drawled. "What a pleasant treat! I'm surprised to find you here."

I ignored the question in his voice and instead stared at him expectantly, awaiting his drink order. I had a job to do. I was in no mood to chat.

"How ever did you survive the sad accident that took your beloved Arch?"

I bit my tongue on a sharp retort. I could hear Aria's voice in my ears. It would not do to drive him away. I remembered my early lessons and played at subservience despite the rebellious churning of my gut. I would be meek and accommodating, yet aloof. I would make Ton chase me as I knew it would drive him to distraction.

"Lucky, I suppose." I wiped off the counter with a wet rag. "What can I get you to drink?"

Another derisive laugh escaped him. "From slave to bartender, eh? I'm not sure I'd call that a step up, Jin." He leaned over the bar, the bulk of his form hampering his progress. "You could always work for me. I could set you up real nice, Jin."

I ignored the stench of his breath as it wafted on the air. The idea of being in Ton's employ made me sick. I despised him and what he represented, but as I watched him lick his fat lips in undisguised lust, I recognized opportunity.

"Oh? Doing what?"

I saw the spark of intrigue light his eyes and he attempted to lean further over the bar as if to whisper conspiracies into my ears. "I can think of many things, Jin. I've heard you are quite….talented."

It felt as if my stomach had dropped to the floor, immobilizing my feet. I was unable to move. Arch had discussed me with Ton? I pulled myself out of the clutches of surprise. Of course Arch had told Ton of our activities. It would have boosted his ego to brag of his bedroom prowess, Ton's envy only serving to heighten his pleasure. Additionally, Arch would be able to improve upon the profit made by my sale if Ton's appetite had already been whet. He was nothing if not practical.

Ton's eyes raked up my form and lingered on my breasts. I rudely cleared my throat to gain his attention once more. "What would you like to drink?"

Beady eyes frowned in irritation. It seemed that Ton did not like his offers dismissed so easily, and he straightened, his bulk settling once more beneath the counter. "Nothing."

I shrugged nonchalantly and continued in my duties, wiping down the countertops and restocking the bar. He watched me a moment longer before leaving, eyes always following my movements. That he would return I had no doubt, but I was unsure of how soon. I had my answer the following evening.

Ton appeared once more accompanied by a small group of men. They followed him to a corner booth where a curvaceous asari danced. I did not need to hear the usual catcalls to know they occurred, although the dancer did a marvelous job of hiding her irritation. In some ways, Aria's dancers were more skilled in the arts of deception than I would ever be.

Not long after his arrival, Ton approached the bar alone. I understood his caution. He would not want to risk losing face in front of his fellows, after all. I finished filling a batarian's order before turning once more to Ton, his eyes still lingering on my breasts. Again I cleared my throat rudely, noting with satisfaction the spark of anger in his eyes at my insubordination.

"What do you want?" I surprised even myself at the absence of venom in my voice.

He studied me for a time, eyes drifting over my body as he licked fat lips. I dared not step away from the counter as it would give him even more of me to ogle. My dedication to duty only went so far. I swallowed my impatience, ignoring the hunger in his gaze. He would not rattle me. I would win the contest of wills, and so I forced my irritation aside, focusing instead on a newcomer to the bar. Ton watched as I fulfilled the other patron's order as he sat, awkwardly plump on the barstool. It was an image that I found both humorous and revolting.

I continued to ignore Ton as others requested drinks. I was working and I had no time to wait hand and foot on an indecisive slaver. He would order when he was ready, or else not at all. I would hurry by him in my duties, barely meeting his beady eyes, and noting with satisfaction his building impatience. I admit I took pleasure in his discomfort, but I also recognized he would not hesitate to do the same to me.

It was after the fifth patron left that he waved me over. I approached him as I did before, an expectant look on my face. "Are you ready to order?"

The heat in his eyes was unmistakable and his licked his lips hungrily. "You know what I want, Jin. Come work for me."

I studied him for a time as if considering his offer, when in reality I was disgusted with the man. I remembered the stink of his breath, the feel of his hands on my body, and the urge to terminate him grew powerful. However, Aria disliked dead bodies in her club and I was in no position to disappoint her so early in the game.

"I'm here to serve drinks, Mr. Ton. Are you going to order?"

"No." He stood uncomfortably, struggling with his bulk as he pushed out from the bar. I watched in morbid fascination as he waddled back to his fellows, a look of feigned satisfaction on his face. No doubt he was spouting untruths to cover his prolonged absence. Like any man in his position, he did not enjoy being made the fool before an audience.

Brulin Ton returned again the following evening, leaving shortly after I turned down his offer yet again. He repeated the pattern the next two nights, and again I denied him the pleasure of my employment, my company. I was beginning to tire of his pathetic attempts, recognizing his need for the chase. Ton was the kind of man who enjoyed things that came easily to him, as most everything did. However, per Aria's instruction I knew that once impatience and frustration got the better of him, he would grow careless. It was a gamble that finally paid off his last night in Afterlife.

I was tending the lower bar as usual when he stalked in. I was surprised by the anger in his stance and the forcefulness of his voice. Were I still a slave I might have cowered on the ground for fear of his temper. As it was, however, I put on a believable display of fear. I knew his threats to kill me were not empty, that he had the capability to enforce it. And so I surrendered to his demands despite my aversion to his very presence.

He took me from the bar that very night, absent guards or additional security. As expected, he was careless.

I played the subservient girl and followed him obediently to his apartment. I remained aloof and distant, playing on his expectations of fear. Ton appeared to love it, believing that I was truly helpless and afraid for my life. It served to heighten his arousal and he soon pawed at me like an animal in heat. Intense revulsion welled up within me and I sputtered a poor excuse to escape him. He would not have it.

"Very well," I feigned resignation. "But please be gentle, I beg you."

I had fanned the flames of his desire and saw the hunger in his eyes consume his better judgment. He was on me in an instant, ripping my clothes from my body and gorging himself on the taste of my flesh. I ignored his animalistic attempts and flicked the switch on my wristband. Had Ton been more of a mind he would have scanned me upon entering his apartment. As it was, however, he missed the presence of the poisoned microneedle in my cuff. The injection went unnoticed as my fingers dug into his greasy skin.

He stilled suddenly, griping his throat as he slid off my body. I watched him crumple to the ground as I adjusted my clothing, a feeling of dark satisfaction spreading through my veins. Ton jerked violently, pocked flesh rippling as the poison took hold, and I watched with delight as he writhed helplessly on the floor. According to my chrono, it took him twelve standard minutes to die. I enjoyed every bit of it.

I did as Aria instructed and downloaded the information she sought from his personal terminal. His access codes were relatively easy to bypass, and as I awaited completion of the data transfer, a revelation dawned on me: I was good at killing.

The reality struck me like a hammer's blow and I sat down on Ton's couch to steady myself. His blank eyes stared up at me, surprise still echoing in their depths even as his body cooled on the floor. I felt no remorse for the act knowing that Ton had earned such a fate, just as I felt no guilt for Arch's end. He had incurred the same. It was a calming feeling to be sure of one's self and one's purpose, and although the memory of blue eyes occasionally haunted me, I had long ago learned to ignore it. Murder no longer held sway over me, and guilt held no meaning.

I could do this, could deal death and secure my place in Omega. I would survive, and per Aria's orders, I would hunt. For on Omega, there was no shortage of prey.

It had not taken me long to grow accustomed to the hunt, and I built on my talents born of Arch's demise. Over the years my aim had improved, although I rarely used the pistols on the job. Noise attracted attention and I preferred to avoid such entanglements. The matched set held more nostalgic value, but on occasion Aria's man Gavorn would invite me to assist him with his duties. I rarely turned him down, relishing the feel of the cool metal as it warmed to my touch, using the excuse to keep my skills honed when in reality the kill both excited and disgusted me. Even so, vorcha hunting held too many memories and lacked the sort of finesse I had grown to appreciate.

Death became my art, blades and poisons the tools with which I created masterpieces. My muse was deadly, relentless, and merciless. I prided myself on efficiency, and more importantly, on success. My love of chemistry had served me well, and even though Aria considered my fascination an eccentricity, she recognized potential. Not once had any of my targets been traced back to me, and by extension, Aria. I performed admirably and was rewarded accordingly.

She had provided me with intelligence that I had been unable to procure on my own, data that was secreted away from public eyes, existing only in whispers and rumor. It seemed the Illuminated Primacy had a program under the compact that specifically targeted drell as young as five standard years. They were training killers, and Aria had somehow obtained details of the regimen. I was in awe.

I devoured the intelligence without a second thought, amazed at the simplicity and ruthlessness of their techniques. The drell's metaphysical philosophy was the perfect excuse for their profession, treating their body as the weapon, unable to distinguish right from wrong. Their employers bore the sin, the stain of murder while the assassin remained absent any ethical dilemma. I admired them while at the same time pitying them. Because of their beliefs, the drell foreswore the one emotion the hunt always delivered me: satisfaction.

Shortly after studying the stolen data I received an opportunity examine the intelligence first hand. It seemed that a private sponsor had contracted business on Omega to be managed at the hand of a drell assassin. Aria sent me to investigate as the target was a known associate of hers. As it so happened, our objectives coincided and we engaged in an uneasy alliance.

I used his target to draw out mine and I could not have wished for a better opportunity. The drell worked with precision and I took advantage of the confusion he created. My target fled the scene of their meeting absent his guards and wild panic in his eyes. A shadowed corner and a sharp blade were all I needed. When his men arrived to find him bleeding out on the dingy alleyway I was long gone.

I never saw my co-conspirator again, but because of him I learned to recognize the nature of danger and death. Much like the oceans I had read of, the drell presented a serene calm while danger swam unseen within. I recognized his strength and speed, how he used his training and natural abilities to achieve his goal, and I realized that I was not his equal. Not yet.

It was a daily ritual thereafter that I practiced my abilities, honed my talents to a keen edge. My routine was punctuated by the occasional assignment, the intelligence provided by Aria. She had recognized my hate for slavers and used it to her advantage. While my methods were quick and efficient, I held a special place in my heart for slavers. Aria came to appreciate the message I sent.