Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: This chapter is rated M for violence and language. Also I apologize for the delayed posting. I couldn't get this chapter right and I'm still not happy with it, but if I tweaked it anymore it would never have been published. So anyway, here it is.

Chapter 43

"Where is he?" I demanded, stalking purposefully up the stairs to Aria's perch. Her guards stood to the side, weapons at the ready, but they were accustomed to my presence if not the manner of my approach. Aria's lip quirked slightly as I stood rigid before her, my nerves aflame and patience stretched thin. She considered me with an amused eye before responding.

"He is safe." Her wicked grin, once so familiar to me, now seemed foreign and disconcerting. I watched as she waved a hand and within moments, Vale stumbled onto the landing, his armored escort shoving him to the floor. "I thought he should stay nearby. For safekeeping. You understand."

I bit my tongue on a sharp retort. I understood alright. Vale was her collateral, leverage to broker my continued obedience. And given my recent wanderings, it was no wonder Aria had decided to use him. With his knowledge of Cerberus and our obvious connection, he was a valuable commodity indeed. I was unsurprised, but irritated all the same.

"How very thoughtful of you," I stated, careful to keep my tone neutral although I had no doubt Aria recognized my ire. "And how long do you plan on providing for his continued well-being?"

Vale coughed as he rose up on hands and knees, clothing dirtied, the shadows barely concealing an ugly abrasion on his face. Aria eyed him as well, her grin shifting into a more satisfied expression before returning her gaze to me. "For as long as I see fit."

I cocked an eyebrow in annoyance. "What is it that you want, Aria? Speak plain. I'm tired of your games."

A flash of anger lit dark eyes, but disappeared as swiftly as if it had never been. I studied Aria's reaction to my insolence as she, in turn, considered me. The wicked grin resurfaced, flavored with an undertone of challenge. "But you like our games, Jin."

I struggled to quash the sudden swell of desire within, failing to convince myself that the surge of heat in my core was actually from the nearby flames. I took a calculated step toward Aria, noting with satisfaction that her attending guards made no move to intervene. Interesting.

She studied me a moment longer before standing, pacing beside Vale's prone frame with the eyes of a predator. He sat back on his haunches and met her stare, stupidly spitting out a mess of blood at her boots. She halted her pacing, the look on her face one of haughty repugnance as she stared down at him. I watched in contained frustration as Aria placed a booted heel on his head and drove his face into the metal flooring, a muffled grunt of pain escaping bruised lips. Her guards sprung into action, taking up positions, but Aria waved them away with a flick of her wrist, angry eyes once more trained upon me.

"You'll play my game, Jin. Just like you always have." She shifted her weight. I heard Vale's muttered curse at the added pressure and anger boiled in my veins.

"I'm not your slave." I stated, the coolness of my tone intentional. Controlled.

Aria's laughter filled the air between us and sent a chill up my spine. She stepped back from Vale and he seemed slump even further into the floor as she returned to her seat, two guards and a fresh drink at her side. "But you've always been my slave, Jin. And willingly at that."

She took a sip of her beverage, the glass already cool with condensation, and it seemed to flicker in the glare from the nearby flames. I felt the heat of fury pulse within my blood, anger darting behind my eyes, but Aria was correct. I had followed her willingly, fulfilled her orders and found purpose in her work. She had treated me far better than Arch ever had, but I had been hers nonetheless. The brand was candy-coated, sweetened, and disguised as so many other games in Aria's world, but here I stood a slave yet again.

I forced a nod of understanding, willing my body to remain calm despite the raging inferno within. Aria took another sip of her drink before gesturing to her guards. Grizz dragged Vale off the landing while Anto shoved a datapad into my hands. Silence hung in the air, thick with tension and all things unsaid between us. I held her gaze a moment longer before looking down at my next assignment.

"You knew this was coming," she stated plainly. "The other Cerberus operative."

Aria was correct again as I thought back to the data gathered from the little bird's terminal. I skimmed the intelligence in my hand, noting dates, times, and locations, intent on studying the information in greater detail upon my return home. I had never planned a job in the open and no wish to start now.

"I expect perfection, little slave." The wicked smile returned to her lips, barely masking the blatant sting in her words.

I said nothing, did nothing, merely turned on my heel and left her perch. My fury would ebb, my pride would heal, but my patience would always remain – a lesson I learned long ago. I had escaped slavery once. I would again.

o O o O o O o

I was surprised by my target. He was a character rare on Omega and I should have expected him to stand out more than he did. Dressed in a fashionable grey suit, with pristine white cuffs, I couldn't help but wonder how Aria and her network had not recognized him for what he was earlier. I also couldn't help but wonder how he kept his shoes polished to a mirror shine when walking through Omega's shit. It was a curiosity to say the least.

However, as he went about the day to day business of managing his small store, I went about my task and studied his habits. From the information I was given, his shipping business was actually legit, as legitimate as business on Omega could be, and frequently received cargo from multiple systems. Based on the latest cargo manifests, he specialized in "exotic wares" - Omega slang for items illegal in Council space, and judging by his profit margin he was quite successful.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust as the stink of a drunken passer-by interrupted my surveillance, his clothes rife with the stench of piss and vomit. I could only guess that he'd been a patron of the whorehouse at the alley's end, but dismissed my speculation in favor of the task at hand; until I realized what he was. I had seen this same man several times before, during this mission and in the past. He was one of Aria's men, one of a pair sent to keep an eye on me lest I fail in my duties. It seemed that some things never changed.

Upon completion of my past missions Aria would have knowledge of the outcome even before I could make my report, ready with critique or congratulations. I had learned long ago that she had eyes on me, and came to enjoy the idea of an audience. Even now the thrill had not waned. However, I couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment that her lackeys would be so easily identifiable. As early as my second cycle out I had already made the "homeless" batarian in the shadows; and now the drunken human wandering through my hunting grounds.

I sighed almost regretfully, abandoning my post and melting into the shadows, trading my assigned target for one of my own choosing. The Cerberus operative would never know how close he came to death, and as I disappeared into the alley, the thrill of the hunt shot through me anew.

It didn't take long for the batarian to follow and I watched as his once dull eyes suddenly brightened, alert and aware and searching for me. I'd no doubt he was quite adept at his profession, trained to observe, pursue, and report, but from the way he moved I sorely doubted he was used to playing the prey. He was well practiced, shuffling gait and hunched back too perfect, too static. The "homeless" hireling was too comfortable in his cover, unable to be anything else, and lacking that chameleonic trait proved his undoing.

I waited for him, soiled with the runoff from the pipes overhead, the trickle of fluid partially masking his approach. It was his shuffling gait that gave him away, and I had little difficulty anticipating his arrival by the fixed interval of his steps. The batarian never saw the knife embedded in his chest until it was too late. He stood still, eyes wide with shock as he recognized me in the shadows, mouth open and ready to express his surprise. Instead, a gasp escaped his lips as he fell to his knees and then to the floor, the sounds of his passing lost amidst the ever-present hum of Omega.

My search of him revealed little save for two grubby credit chits and a scribbled note with the location of the operative's business. I stilled, pausing my work as another set of footsteps echoed lightly down the alley. As I suspected he would, the human drunk had followed me, stumbling gracelessly into my sight. He wobbled aimlessly down the alley, pausing here and there as if lost, and like his counterpart was well-versed in his role. And like the batarian he died quickly, unaware of the death lurking in the shadows just behind him, and blessedly ignorant of his failure.

I was sure Aria would be furious at her lost investments, and I could only imagine the lessons that she would impart had her two observers remained alive to receive it. Fortunately for them, they were spared such a fate.

With my leash unbound I took advantage of such a monumental opportunity, stealing down the alley and making for the taxi. I had only been to Aria's residence once. I was very much looking forward to another visit and by my chronometer I had time to spare. The pirate queen would remain on her perch for the rest of the cycle and I would need to make the most this opportunity.

The trip through the station's interior was relatively short and I made it to her apartments without incident. Unlike Afterlife, Aria did not advertise the locale of her personal rooms for which I could not fault her. Despite the bland exterior, however, her residence was well guarded. Fortunately for me, I was a familiar face among her men and while my presence was noted, it was not challenged. It was as I suspected: Aria had kept quiet about our falling-out lest she lose face. It would not do to have her top assassin going rogue and running amok through her station.

Wandering outside her apartments was simple, her guards ever alert and ready. However, I also knew how Aria worked and the doormen would have been notified if I was expected; no exceptions. Unlike me, they had learned not to disobey. Getting inside her rooms would be a tricky challenge to say the least.

I strode past the guards, past her apartments and into the maze of alleys, always with an eye for an opening. It took more time than I would have liked, but I eventually found what I was searching for, my nose ferreting out the unforgettable scent of vorcha. A nearby nest meant a mess of shafts, likely air ducts or rusted out water filtration pipes. Given the vorcha's tendencies, it could be damn near anything. Vorcha were not picky.

I rounded the bend, pistol in my hand and ready to face any resistance from the pack. It was smaller than I figured, no more than three males to two females, their litter of runts mewling in the corner. They made no move to attack, but hissed and spat, growling in a show of force. I studied them briefly, noting the pale flesh and chipped teeth of the alpha male, the emaciated bodies of the females, and realized that the rank smell on the air was death. This was a poor pack and they would die soon.

I held a moment longer, maintaining my distance and an unthreatening pose. While they were hardly a challenge to me, I'd no intent to provoke them. I'd come to learn that any vorcha, even the starving ones, could be dangerous. I kicked the rust from the piping with a booted foot, slipping inside with one last careful glance at the pack. The last thing I wanted was a hungry vorcha following me into the vents. Of course, that might have been less dangerous than where I was bound.

The Mission – Puscifer

Biscuit - Portishead