A/N: Hi, my name is John and I kill people for a living… READ THE CHAPTER! Ah screw it, read my résumé, sue me and then kill me, or try, because as they say 'In Soviet Russia, you do not build snowman, snowman build you.' I thought it was nice.

Remember to read The Hidden God and Switching Lanes, by Middleearthmidget and Elemental Dragon Slayer respectively.

So it would seem that Two Shades and Betrayed are the top ones being voted right now. Go you guys! So, if Betrayed gets the most votes by the time this story ends, I will write Betrayed. BUT FEAR NOT! My brother Ulderen has taken an interest in the story and he said he would write Two Shades if Betrayed won.

ON THAT MATTER. I am getting incredibly sick of people reviewing my previews and telling me that I should continue, BUT THEY DON'T VOTE ON MY POLL! VOTE ON MY POLL! And remember that you can choose two options.

Imagine the mercenaries as guys with Russian accents, and I know that the Triads are an underground Chinese mafia system, but it seemed awesome to put in here.

Disclaimer: But hey, I may not write either. The votes could come up at any time till this story ends. Not mine.

E-R-A-G-O-N

"For the last time Arya, you are not going." Eragon said forcefully.

"Why not?!" Arya practically shouted. She sounded like a child.

"Because you are pregnant, that's why. You are not going with me to meet corporate mercenaries while you are carrying a child." He explained for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, although it was actually the very first. Why didn't she understand that she couldn't go meet mercenaries while she was pregnant?

Angela thankfully walked into the room at that time. "Little brother's right. There's a big chance that this could go south, or north depending on which direction you're facing, but you won't be in harms way."

Eragon scowled at his sister. That really wasn't the best way to end an argument.

"And what happens if you die, and our child grows up fatherless?" Arya asked coldly.

Eragon slowly walked up to her and put his right hand on the side of her swollen belly, and his left on her right cheek. He slowly put out his words so his mate would understand him and what he meant. "If I die," Angela snorted. "If I die, then I will have died for you and for the baby. I will have died with love in my heart, no matter what happens. And besides," he continued in a lighter tone, "It's only a few men. How hard could it be?"

Very hard apparently.

His face was slammed against the wall. Well, it wasn't very hard at all. Getting beaten up wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. "Why are you here?" A man with a thick accent demanded.

"I told you," Eragon said with his face pressed up against the wooden wall. "I'm looking for Bratona Gerome."

"I do not believe you," another man said.

"How about this? Bratona is fifth in command on the Triad organization in Teirm. I need to speak with him." Eragon objected.

Silence for several moments ensued, until the same man replied, "Five minutes, no more." He felt himself be released against the wall, and when he turned around, he saw at least twenty men with bows and arrows pointed straight at him. I guess he wasn't lying about the men hiding with bows. He thought to himself.

Eragon sighed in relief as he leaned back against the wall, waiting patiently for Bratona to arrive. Fifteen minutes later, he heard shouting outside. "If this is a trap Marco, I will kill you myself!" One man shouted.

"I told you, this is no trap, he is heavily restrained!" A different man shouted back. The doors to the wooden warehouse slammed open and two men marched inside.

If only they knew I could kill them without getting a scratch.

A new man that he knew was head of the Triads in Teirm walked up to him and scanned him up and down. Eragon was intelligent enough to transform his appearance to turn him into a more human-like appearance.

"I have been told that you wanted to speak with me?" Bratona said.

Eragon nodded his head. "That is correct."

Bratona waved his hand and began pacing in front of the restrained Eragon. "So why is that you interrupted my very busy day to come and speak with me?"

"I need to know where I can find the General of the Empire's army here in Teirm," Eragon said simply.

Bratona snorted. "You could ask a common peasant on the street that question and they would be able to tell you without hesitation, so why ask me?"

Eragon smirked, "Observant as ever Bratona."

The man smiled back, "That I am, and so, what else you want?"

"I want you to follow him, what he does at night, what tavern he goes, hell, which type of ale he drinks. Can you do this for me?" Eragon asked.

Bratona slowed down his pacing and scratched the stubble upon his chin absentmindedly. "You ask a great deal of me. Aye, I can arrange for one or two spies to follow him around, but still, that is not all you require of me is it?"

Eragon grinned once again. "No it isn't. Is there any possible way you can get me a job in the castle?"

Bratona stopped mid-pace and looked at Eragon for a full five seconds before saying, "Hmm, it can be arranged, but you need to give me a few days. Is there any way I can contact you?"

"We are staying at the Golden Globe inn, just come there, and that's where we will be," Eragon answered.

"We? Who is we? Is it your mother, because I am not going within fifty feet of that crazed woman?"

The half-elf chuckled, "No it isn't. Only my sister and another elf."

Bratona's eyebrows shot up and he asked, "An elf you say? May you introduce me to her sometime soon I hope?"

Bratona was always looking for someone to settle down with, elves in particular. Unknown to the popularity of Teirm, Bratona was a sort of a half breed. His mother was a half-breed who mated with a human. So he was ¼ half-elf. The man was about a hundred and thirty years old, but he only looked like he was in his late thirties.

"Sorry Bratona, but she's taken," Eragon said without any sense of sympathy for his friend.

"And who may this lucky person be? I may have to rip out his entrails." The man said.

Eragon grimaced slightly, but still answered nonetheless, "You're looking at him!"

"Huh, really? I never did think you'd settle down anytime soon. Well, then again, you are a hundred and fifty seven years old, it is about time! Congratulations."

"No, no, no, not a word from you Bratona, just do what I asked."

Bratona began to walk out the door saying, "You owe me." Must our conversations always end with those words? Eragon thought.

Sighing he shrugged himself out of his captors arms and began to walk towards the doors, his boots echoing against the floor.

Twang!

And before he had any time to react, a sharp pain hit him in his left shoulder, just above his heart.

"Dammit!" He shouted. Looking up since the arrow had hit him at a downward angle he saw a man cloaked in black with a bow that shimmered with some sort of dark magic, which was the reason it pierced his wards. Before the man had any time to react, Eragon broke the shaft from his body and covered his cloak over the wound, making sure no passerby's noticed the wound.

With his half-elf speed he began to run towards the Golden Globe inn. He skidded to a halt just outside of the door. Keeping his shaking hands in check, he opened the door and walked into the dimly lit tavern. To his estimation, it was roughly ten o'clock at night, so most of the residents in the inn were in the tavern, drinking their fat asses off. So he easily managed to walk past everybody without only a few noticing him.

In the back of the tavern he trudged up the stairs, trying not to groan as each step sent a wave of pain through his injured shoulder, although he had dealt with much, much more, it wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world. Without warning to his mate or sister, he burst through the door, where Angela was in a rocking chair in the corner and Arya seemed to be fighting off sleep in the bed. When the door opened, both women were instantly alert, Albitr in Angela's hand and Arya's dagger in her hand.

When they both noticed that it was Eragon, not a random murderer preying on women in the middle of the night, they dropped their weapons. Arya was the first to get to him, even with her pregnancy.

He groaned in pain, and she instantly pulled away, looking on his body for any wounds. With his right hand, he tore off the cloak that rested over his left shoulder, and Arya gasped. What happened next he was not particularly expecting. A hard hand slapped his face, possible bruising.

"Get on the bed," Arya demanded.

Finally realizing how tired he was, he collapsed upon the bed on his back, and he saw Angela bent over his shoulder, inspecting the wound.

Before he fell asleep, he muttered one word.

"Ow."

A/N: WOOT WOOT! Alrighty, that's that, and so review to your little hearts content. Remember to VOTE ON THE GORRAM POLL! And also remember that you can choose two choices, and also remember to read the previews first. Well, buh-bye!