.

Hear my scream
I break the seal
An impulse of me revived
And as I fill my lungs
It's hard to breath
Like I was born inside a dream

Let it out
Of my sanity
It's a source of my serenity
I'm not the man I used to be
I still resent it's sanity

Walking in circles
As I open up my eyes
It's like I never stop and then wake up

So wake me up to an everlasting afterlife
It is designed from the secrets I hide
So set me free
And this time you'll be electrified
The future leaves nothing behind
It's my afterlife

Amaranthe - Afterlife

Chapter 2 ~ Another day in paradise

"Next stop Deck 1," the synthetic, yet female sounding voice that had introduced herself as Enhanced Defense Intelligence – or EDI – announced, as I entered the elevator.

It was the last station of my round trip, all guided by the – so far – friendly little elf Cerberus had installed on the ship. Its voice emanated from a blue sphere hovering above the elevator's console. Although completely unnecessary, the orb's presence provided us mere humans with a focus to address our needs. And with a feeling of privacy, as soon as it vanished. Which was of course merely an illusion, as EDI had informed me so kindly. She was always there.

However, the out-fleshed AI with the disturbing penchant for voyeurism wasn't the only surprise Cerberus' engineers had in stash. I perfectly understood Joker's enthusiasm now. The first Normandy had already been an exceptional vessel; a unique prototype of a frigate outfitted with best technology the Alliance had and the turians had been willing to share, and this new ship still topped her.

The extent of the Illusive Man's intel and resources was plain alarming.

As was his skill at sniffing out my weaknesses – Joker wasn't the only familiar face in the crew. Dr. Chakwas had also left the most honorable Alliance Service behind to join a group of extremists with more than doubtful intentions. Still, whatever Cerberus' base motives, I was glad on some selfish level to have someone aboard who had stitched me together so many times that we had actually stopped making jokes about it.

The doors of the elevator opened.

"Here we are," the AI spoke up. "Commander, these are your quarters."

EDI sounded genuinely pleased, which made me halt in my tracks and squint at the sphere floating now above the console next to the door.

"Thanks for the tour, EDI, much appreciated," I said carefully and inclined my head towards the orb, hoping my gesture emanated the very image of cordial and respectful harmlessness, as intended. Better to cross all your t's and dot all your i's. Maybe that was just my paranoia talking, but the AI's I encountered so far had all unanimously tried to load me into the next shuttle to the underworld; be it geth, giant robo squids from outer space or thieving terminals with a serious attention deficit. And this AI was definitely the most developed and self-aware I ever met.

I stepped into the cabin and was clobbered over the head with decadence.

The room was much bigger than what I was used to from the old Normandy and – be still my heart – had real furniture. Back on the SR-1 my lackluster cubbyhole had featured just a hard cot, five guns, six miles of exposed pipes and cable harness, two dozen crates of equipment – half of them Tali's pilferage – and a "desk" that had radiated the same charm and reliability as a camping table bolted to the wall. It also came with the saddest excuse of a stool – whaddya think? Bolted to the deck of course – Alliance procurement could have possibly found.

And now this: not one desk worth the name, but two, a poshy leather couch with matching armchairs and a real bed. Kingsize. I walked down the few stairs and sat on the edge of the mattress. I jumped a little and it gave way invitingly. Oh boy. The criminally soft bed sheets short-circuited something in my brain and I fell backwards into the white cotton. My limbs instantly betrayed me and quitted their service. A low, happy groan escaped from my chest before I could stop it. Mhmm, soft.

Yep that's me, helplessly outsmarted by my most primal cravings.

The spine protector of my armor eventually poked into my back. I forced some life into my gummy muscles and rolled to the side, frowning at a glass wall across the room. Was this… a fish tank? On a space ship? Seriously, what the hell was wrong with these Cerberus people?

With a shake of my head I fished the raided gun from the holster on my waist and started popping the heatsink in and out. The sooner the motion would stick to my memory the better. Getting your head blown off because you were distracted by fumbling for latches on your gear was just too embarrassing for someone in my line of profession.

My repeated motions filled the silence of the cabin with soft clicks. The gun was indeed a standard ERCS pistol, except that the turian manufacturer called the model line "Predator" these days. Figures. I've never met a turian who didn't just lo-ove to harp on that analogy every once in a while. Inevitably I wondered what Garrus was up to. It worried me that not even Cerberus had managed to fret out the C-Sec officer's whereabouts. As for the others… Truth to tell, when I had seen Joker and the Normandy, a part of me had irrationally believed for a moment that Cerberus had recruited more of my former team. Believed and cheered. Damn. It had been a good crew. All thirty-five members of it. Never thought I would say it but right now I even missed Kaidan – despite that he was clinging since over ten years to his mission to irritate the hell out of me.

"The Illusive Man is aware of your lack of personal belongings," EDI suddenly started and pulled me out from my musings. Yup, no concept of privacy whatsoever. "There is a choice of clothing and other necessities in the closet. Feel free to see them as your own. Also as the commanding officer of this vessel you're entitled for regular pay, due on every 1st and 15th of the month, Earth time."

Once again the AI gave off the impression of personal pride at being able to help me out. This was just… creepy.

I stretched with a yawn and got up, deflecting all attempts of my body to convince me otherwise. I shuffled to the wardrobe and peeped inside, beware of any further color disasters. To my relief there were just standard crew uniforms with some additional shirts, sweat pants and jackets. All in safe black, white or grey. I pulled out the drawer, expecting equally standardized and dead-ugly white body linen. Ugh. Except… there was an armada of classy bras and panties, all in exquisite quality. I should know; a small fortune had constantly flowed from me to Elysium's Exclusive Bodywear…

Vigorously, I forced the drawer shut again. Just what I needed – another confirmation that probably hosts of perverted Cerberus geeks had snooped through my bank accounts, personal communication, extranet movements and shore-leave pictures; "analyzing" data for the sake of my psychological profile. On top of it, the ridiculous image of the Illusive Man rummaging through my underwear kept penetrating my mind, and suddenly I had to fight down a fit of hysterical giggles.

"Are you feeling well, Commander?"

Not at all. "Yeah. Sure. I think I need a shower."

"The door left to the entry. Logging you out."

I watched the blue sphere disappear. Finally left to my own devises – or rather the illusion of it – I discarded my armor and the spandex where I stood and dove for the shower as single-minded as a bulimic at buffet's opening. The cheap pink sweats had not gone so well with the dried remains of suspicious regeneration fluids.

A look in the bathroom's mirror also revealed why the Doc earlier had virtually itched to drag me into the Med Bay, as soon as I'd finished my little speech for the crew. So far, I had been just too busy to notice, but my face was a mess. Thin, red welts were criss-crossing my cheeks and forehead. Somehow they reminded me of that weirdo from this ass-old and ultra trashy horror flick, Joker referred to as "classics". All I was missing were a few rusty nails... I peered at the too symmetrical patches of skin more closely.

Uhg. It screamed Petri dish. Cerberus had apparently been in quite some hurry to cart me out of their lab. No wonder I felt like Frankenstein's Monster.

My gaze fell on the small ensemble of jars and flasks standing next to the sink. A note was tucked between them. It read:

'I brought you some treatment for your facial wounds. Keep it up regular and they won't scar.

Karin'

She had underlined regular twice and put an exclamation mark behind it. I gave the vicious ointments and fluids the evil eye. Again I looked at my face, imagining life with scars like a damn chessboard. Fucktardilicious.

Demoralized, I inspected the rest of my body. From underneath the pink fuzz my skin almost glowed at me in its pure aristocratic complexion. As if to mock me and my face, it was smooth and freakishly perfect; not even disrupted by the occasional liver spots. No injuries, no marks… and I meant 'no' as in 'nothing'. Nada. Zip. I swallowed the lump of acid. Uncanny valley? More like the creepy valley of nightmares.

I brushed over my stomach. The ugly scar from Feros was gone; as was the one from New York, and all the other silent witnesses of my life's journey. Quickly, I turned to look at my back. Where I was used to see swirls of black ink covering my shoulder blades down to the small of my back, nothing but unmarred skin displeased my eyes. I grimaced at the woman in the mirror. Screw me. I had really loved the tattoo. And what kind of soldier looked like a porcelain doll anyway?

I flipped the shower on and, waiting for the water to heat, I combed through my clotted hair with my fingers. It was shorter than usual, barely touching my shoulders. Plus, as another courtesy of Lazarus, its honey-colored strands had also paled into an undefined tangle. Sighing I stepped under the balmy spray. I had no time for vanity.

As I scrubbed my skin, I realized something else. I had thinned. Noticeably. True, I had never been particularly heavy framed to begin with, but over ten years serving in the military had provided me with strong muscles. Now, my waist was almost as slim as on the day I entered the Alliance, and as a kid of the street, regular meals had been more of a rare exception than a rule. However, while fighting and shooting around on the lab or Freedom's Progress I had never felt weakened for a second; quite the opposite, to be honest…

… and this, this was exactly the unpleasant moment my mind stopped believing the little comforting lie I've been telling myself. Nobody was raised from the death with just a few candles, a handful of herbs and a prayer. No-fucking-body.

I struggled to contain this specific line of thought. But empowered by a morbid sense of curiosity it drove me on until the silent dread that had been lurking just beneath the surface reached out and clasped me by the throat. Lawson's closed-mouthedness. The quite-not-right look of everything. That you simply could NOT cheat death, for god's sake…

Despite the hot water running down my back, I shivered.

I was a stranger in my own body.

~V~

Obscured by shadows, I sneaked up on my quarry.

I ghosted through a dim alley not far away from the back entry of one of Omega's sleazy clubs. It smelled of old garbage, ass and the heavy sweet-smoky perfume of the working girl that had left the club a few minutes ago with a client. They hadn't cared two shits about the batarian a few yards ahead of me or the now motionless blue figure to his feet. Regrettable, but the asari had already been dead for a while when I arrived. Centuries of life, of experiences, simply snuffed out. What a waste.

He discarded the purse he had been rummaging through to stick a pipe between his lips. Only then did he reach down to pull up his pants. Oh yes, dealing with his rotten sort without blowing their filthy brains out was one of the hardest challenges in my line of business.

The flash of a lighter illumined his face and he eagerly sucked in the burning Crystal, two pairs of hollow eyes revealing the advanced state of his addiction. In the last months the human-made drug had been shipped to Omega in vast numbers. Three-times cheaper than Red Sand and without the biotic-afflicting qualities most designer drugs had, it spread almost as rapidly as the disease infesting Gozu District. I needed to make my move or he would be too far gone to be of any use.

Now.

Four steps and into the light.

"Hello Kervol," I pressed the barrel to his temple, releasing the gun's safety with a soft click. "I think you owe me a life."

His mouth went slack and the pipe dropped to the ground. This close the sour smell of unwashed body mixed with the rancid stench of the oil most batarians smeared on their leathery skins was almost unbearable. It was good that Vortash stayed away from this habit… had stayed. For a short moment Kervol's face flickered into my batarian procurement specialist's. Damn. I needed sleep.

"A-arch-an-g-gel? B-but you promised to let me go!"

"A promise? No, Kervol, a trade. The information who paid off Sidonis against your hide. Can you imagine my surprise when I found Tarak's head of security with a dozen of his thugs in waiting instead of a renegade Eclipse girl on the run back to Thessia?"

"They said, you wouldn't come back… ughh!"

My left hand darted forward and clutched his throat. Spirits, this one was dumber than a can of glue.

"Kervol, Kervol. I was born at night, but it wasn't last night. Have you really believed I wouldn't double check? That I would rely on your words alone?"

I shoved him back until his back touched the wall. My eyes drilled into the topmost pair of his; impassive black marbles in a dark green face. And still the predator in me could sense fear.

"Listen, so far I've been really patient with you; so much more than you deserve. Let's try this one more time: Who. Bought. Sidonis."

With each word I pressed my gun a little tighter against his head.

"Well?"

"I…" he stammered, eyes darting around wildly to search for a way out. There was none. "I do-n't kn-now! There was just this m-merc. Eclipse. A woman, tall. Human or asari. Cut a d-deal with Tarak to get you. She p-paid me well and… please, I… c-couldn't see her face. I… didn't ask…"

I wanted to leash out in pure frustration. A dead end. Again. How could someone like Sidonis vanish from this blasted meteor without leaving any trace? This was impossible, even if he paid someone to cover up his tracks. A gurgling sound caught my attention and I felt fingers clawing at my hand. Ah, yes… I unclenched the grip I had on Kervol's throat.

"P-please… It's all I know…" Four eyes widened and his voice obtained a panicked edge, which I refused to acknowledge.

Useless. Why was I not surprised? The batarian saw something in my face that forced his heart into a staccato of wild drums. My right hand holding the gun trembled slightly.

Yes, yes, kill him! A female, turian voice whispered. He isn't worth the air he's wasting!

I turned my head slightly, almost expecting Mierin to watch me from what would have been her preferred spot here, a narrow ladder leading up to the roof. There was nothing but shadows. The voice had been in my head.

"Well, isn't it ironic?" I asked and forced my focus back to the repulsive creature in front of me. "You'll die with the same terror you've been just dishing out so generously. Justice, wouldn't you say?"

Damn it, Garrus, are you mad? A second woman suddenly spoke up. This time I didn't even bother with looking for a source. The voice was just as familiar. And no less dead. That's not justice, that's a goddamn execution!

Perhaps, but these were subtleties reserved for people who could actually afford them.

Archangel… The first voice picked up again. You're doing the galaxy a favor… and me… You promised to make me smile, didn't you?

Yes, I had. On the very day we freed her from the cellar of a slaver, staring defiantly at our small army of two avengers. Body abused, spirit unbroken. I also promised to see her strong, that she never had to endure helplessness again – and we know how well that had ended.

Vakarian, will you stop with this bullshit, for fuck's sake? You're better than that.

Was I? Perhaps I once really had been that man but he had been grinded to dust by the merciless battles that tore Omega apart from the inside out.

Come one, Archangel… I know you want it. Let's take his sorry life… Use him and send a message to Tarak and to all our enemies… Can't you feel it? Sweet, sweet revenge…

Revenge? The second voice spat out in scorn. Hah! Revenge will never fill up the horrible emptiness you feel inside!

I tilted my head and listened to them arguing back and forth. Slowly, the realization dawned on me that I was probably tethering on the edge of madness.

LEAVE ME! I ordered in a last attempt to keep my sanity from getting chased to hell by dead women bitching in my head. Just as well I could have shouted at a black hole.

Suddenly, the foul stench of Kervol's increasing fear pierced through my distracted state and insulted my nostrils. Had I said the last aloud? It didn't matter. "Any last words before you face your creator? Make an effort, perhaps he'll have mercy with you."

At that, the batarian struggled even harder. My grip on his throat tightened. He stood no chance. His flesh was weak and I was filled with a dark and hungry need to avenge that fueled me with strength way above my limits.

You're the worst fucking idiot this universe has ever seen! Haven't you learned anything at all?

Oh, I'd learned much. Especially, that the galaxy was a cold and cruel place, infested with evil. This lesson had been particularly explicit.

Archangel. We lost our lives to this mission… If you won't revenge us, who else would? Who else would even care?

Mierin was right. I was the only one left. My burden, my obligation. Abandoning them had never been option; that remnant of honor neither Omega nor death had managed to obliterate.

I locked eyes with Kervol, whose drugged mind had already shut down in acceptance of the inevitable. My mother had always advanced the view that every soul deserved redemption in the end. Since I came to Omega I knew she was wrong.

Fool.

I'm sorry, Shepard…

I pulled the trigger, accompanied by Mierin's wild laughter.

~V~

Omega.

For some, the pit of doom that would swallow first their consciences, and then their souls without hesitation; for others a writhing succubus that made even the wildest of their dark little fantasies come true. For me it was nothing but a filthy heap, strutting along like a cheap hooker covered up by a pathetic layer of glitter, perfume and false laughter. If I had my way that cursed rock would have seen my lily-white ass for the last time eight years ago – ten, if you counted my recent absence in – but as usual…

Straight after Freedom's Progress, the Illusive Man sent over five dossiers on possible squad members; three of them on Omega. And just like that I'd won another day in sinner's paradise.

I was so freaking lucky, I could have shot myself in the kneecap.

The airlock's decontamination routine finished with a soft pling. Waiting for the door to open I caught my reflection in the polished metal panels. Yeah. At least my face was healing. Sort of.

Trailing after Lawson and Taylor, I stepped out of the airlock and into the streets. And even after all those years an all too familiar feeling slithered across my subconsciousness like a living thing. A constant trace of danger permeated the air and my body tensed. Alertness and adrenaline tingled through me. My awareness extended. Instinctively my body readied me for combat, making me walk the thin line between loosing yourself to the thrill and tasting your own fear. Only maniacs went into battle without being afraid. The trick was to use that fear like you would use a honing stone; to let it slide against your senses, sharpening them until you became one with the ground below, the air around and the enemy in front.

Fractured memories welled up; of my last visit, when I felt Omega's mesmerizing pulse for the first time. It was shortly after I was promoted to the N4 unit. Normally, the Alliance knew better than to poke around in the Terminus Systems, except…

I move through the masses of shifting bodies like a ghost. People's gaze bend around me; my nondescript appearance already forgotten as soon as I step out of their line of view. This is exactly why Commander Ripley sent me. Because I know this place though I've never been here. A dark and dangerous place, full of traps and pitfalls. A blade's edge.

It is like coming home.

That assignment hadn't been about standard procedures. In fact, it had never made it into an official report. No, it was about a very personal favor for the Fleet Admiral and the very dead body of his daughter…

I step behind Fletcher into a dark alley. He whirls around. A frown twists his otherwise handsome face. Long brown curls, midsized built; the perfect image of the nice guy next door. Appearances. So treacherously deceptive, right? I inhale and a little smile creeps into my face. This place…

…was evil. It was destined to bring out the worst in people. Especially in me…

The cold steel of my gun kisses his temple. He considers a break for the mouth of the alley. I shake my head. More pressure with my forearm, slowly ever so slowly crushing his windpipe. There's nothing left to say. It is only then, that he truly looks at me. His eyes widen. He freezes. Like prey before the predator.

Fletcher has discovered something in my gaze. Something that awakened with my arrival; when I first sensed the familiar mood of this place.

He has found Ivy, and she makes him tremble with fear.

I perfectly understood. She makes me, too...

"Shepard, what's your plan now? How do we proceed?"

Lawson's question pulled me back to the present of Omega's streets, and away from my memories. Another moment I listened to the depths of myself. Nothing stirred. Good.

I took a deep breath – which was a mistake. Immediately, the faint stench of incinerated flesh assaulted my sinuses. Lovely. Of course we had heard of the strange disease infesting the nearby district, but burning the corpses? On a space station floating about in the middle of nowhere? Are you kidding me?

"We should go after that Archangel guy first." Taylor offered.

I nodded, trying to ignore the implications my mind drew at the smell of crispy burnt flesh around me. Since waking my metabolism ran havoc. I was always hungry.

"Agreed. He's probably the one with the most time critical agenda," I said slowly, because my eyes spotted a greasy, dirty food stand; maintained by an equally greasy, dirty man, wearing an even more obnoxious apron. Why he bothered with it at all was beyond me; the thing was so filthy it would probably bend and stand on its own. Caught in an almost ghoulish motion sequence, he pushed little skewers of shish kebab back and forth on the grill. Yum-yum, ventkill. I looked away. I was not that desperate.

Lawson's omni-tool flashed to life. "We don't know his exact location. The increased mercenary activity around the southern warehouse area at Kima District might be a clue, but without further information, we can search this maze for days and still come up empty-handed. I have some contacts here, I'd advise to approach them first."

I edged a few more steps away from the germ-infested food stand, and pinched the bridge of my nose. All of that delicate poking around would take too long. We needed information. Fast. "Aria T'Loak. She will know."

Taylor gave me a long, suffering look. "That's risky, Commander, the woman's as unpredictable as they come."

It earned him an evil glare from my XO, which he deflected with an expression so obviously blank, I was surprised she didn't hit him over the head with her SMG.

I shrugged. "Why not? Let's march up to her and see if we can't shake a few answers loose. It's worth the try; we're running out of time, anyway."

Plus, I really didn't fancy to end racing up and down Kima District, grabbing random people by the collar, shouting 'Are you Archangel?'

"What? That's your plan? This is no plan at all!" the dark haired woman piped up in alarm.

It was actually a 'make sure to get yourself killed in a hurry' kind of plan, but yeah. Far was it from me to argue about semantics with Officer Fussiness.

"You know what? I find your lack of faith disturbing," I told her. "Isn't this exactly why you brought me back?"

I thought she groaned faintly, but I already headed towards the entry of Afterlife.

.~'*'~.

Finding the self-proclaimed Queen of Omega in the club was easy. Getting through to her not so.

"I'm Commander Shepard," I informed the turian guard blocking the stairway. "I-"

"Woah, what's wrong with your face, human?"

Yeah, right. "Nothing. I want to see Aria."

"And I want a triple distilled horosk, while that bar girl gives me head." The guard bit off the words, then looked around in faked surprise and spread his hands. "Now look at that, seems we both gonna miss out today."

I rolled my eyes. Asshole. "I'm sure if you tell her that Shepard, the Spectre, is here, she can spare a few minutes. I'll keep it brief."

"Listen, human: I don't give a fuck if you're Queen of Earth, Aria's new main squeeze or the next fucking Council Head. She has ordered not to be disturbed and that's it. Get lost!"

Really, this Spectre business wasn't worth two beans in a rotten bag. Turning my head, I tried to get some opinions from the Cerberus Gestapo. Taylor just shrugged at me while Lawson hacked commands into her omni-tool, either meticulously logging my shortcomings or playing Tetris. Perhaps both.

Yeah, some great help here. I focused back on the guard, who had apparently already dismissed me, in favor of bitching over the radio with some Jehara about the odds for a cage fight at Kenzo District tonight.

What now? Diplomacy wasn't exactly my strongest suit, but if I knocked Aria's hireling straight out I could – in the best case – wave goodbye to any cooperation from the asari. In the worst, I ended as a smear on the wall.

When unsure what to do next, start yelling until someone stops by and asks what all the fuss is about. I raised my voice. "Wow, did you hear that? This guy," I pointed at the turian, "said, they'll stop serving booze in the Afterlife!"

"Oh. My. Goodness! No liquor anymore?" Lawson suddenly shouted with a faked British accent towards the crowd. Definitely logging then. "This is scan-da-lous!"

I grinned. In another life, the Cerberus agent would have made a great actress that was sure. At least a dozen patrons stopped in their sluggish dance floor shuffling to the umpteenth remix of some old Expel 10 song to watch our show. There was a surprisingly big crowd and it was – what? – freaking 9 AM in the morning? Only on Omega, indeed.

Maybe the guard's hard face had turned a little pale around the edges. Three fingered, talon-tipped hands grabbed for me, but I danced out of his reach, resuming with my rabble-rousing. "What's that? Adipose krogans instead of asari dancers?"

Uh-huh. That did it. Within seconds the turian was caught in a desperate attempt for damage limitation, while surrounded by a mob of upset patrons, each of them battling for sonic supremacy.

"ENOUGH!" A deep female voice suddenly boomed from above. The crowd fell silent and dispersed. Whatever else they were, they were smart enough to avoid the ire of Omega's self-proclaimed ruler. "Grizz, what's the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry Aria. This impertinent human there," he pointed with an accusing expression on me, "caused it."

I flipped him off out of Aria's peripheral view, all the while beaming up to the asari with my most nonchalant smile. Never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the box. "Hello Aria, I'm Commander Shepard, do you got a minute?"

She leaned over the rail and gave me a look-over. "Shepard, hmm? That's a bold statement. My intel saysshe's very dead."

"Really? Then tell me, all-knowing Queen of Omega, do you actually believe someone exists in the broad expanse of the universe, who's crackbrained enough to claim to be me?"

A snicker floated down from above. "Grizz, let her up! And the next time someone wants to see me, bring it to my attention before they instigate another riot among the guests!"

"Of course, Aria." Reluctantly, Grizz, the under-sucked guard with the liquor deficiency, moved aside. I bestowed him with my best smile and his face soured even further. He even seemed to weight the consequences of Aria's wrath against the short-lived satisfaction of smacking me with the butt end of his rifle. Oy. New friends every day.

I motioned towards the Cerberus agents to wait; then climbed the stairs. Shepard: one; Omega: zero.

"What do you want, Shepard, who just recently returned from afterlife to come to Afterlife?" the blue-skinned alien asked smugly, when I reached the top of the stairs.

Haha, very funny.

Keeping my face smooth, I sat down next to Her Haughtiness, who was throning it on her couch arrangement. Unperturbed, I ignored her bait – hey, I was not that stupid.

"Archangel."

With a mocking smile, Aria reclined in her seat.

"So does half of Omega. His petty game will be over by nightfall. I know what you aren't, Spectre," out of her mouth it sounded like an insult. "No merc, no criminal. And still you seek one of our most wanted. Why? What are you to him? Diligent bounty hunter? Betrayed business partner? Scorned lover?"

The last was voiced with low seductive edge and she crossed her legs with an almost obscene deliberateness. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Asari. One way or the other they were all little blue sluts.

I fixed her with my Shepard-will-nuke-you glare. I had no time for playing 20 questions with the sexual deviant. "Neither. I just need him alive."

"Alive?" She raised what passed off as an tattooed eyebrow at me. "Why should I help you? Why should I even care?"

It was my turn to get smug. "Maybe, it's just because you don't necessarily want to see him dead? C'mon, Aria. I know if you really really wanted it, he would already be rotting in some trash can..."

She laughed. It was a harsh, joyless affair, just like an interview session with al-Jilani. "You're a player, Shepard. And you've got some fucking nerves. But I can live with that. For now. Just make sure you never forget the one and only rule: don't fuck with Aria!"

Her gaze drilled into my skull. I stared back unblinking. If she expected me to fall over from intimidation, she could settle in for a long long wait.

After another moment she seemed convinced that I had gotten the message and resumed, "Archangel. Very well. In the beginning, he proved to be a convenient distraction. He fitted some of my plans, so I tolerated his business. His motivation though…" She made an off-handed gesture, loading her words with scorn. "Ludicrous. Nobody will turn Omega into a safe haven. Not now, not ever!"

"I see…" Part gunslinging Robin Hood, part strategically enhanced killer commando – I was so sold; lock, stock and barrel. "Why's he a problem now?"

"He became a loose cannon. Blasted too many deals and too many important heads, so... The mercs are screaming for blood; they even formed a temporary association to root him out." Her voice dropped to match Noveria's surface temperature. "He turned from an useful tool into a menace for my business, Shepard – and this I won't tolerate!"

"But he did help your plans; certainly that's worth something, right?"

"Oh fine. You can take him with you – that is, if you find him alive."

The sardonic twist of her lips told me exactly how likely that was going to be.

"So, where is he?"

"The easiest way is to go through the Blue Suns' recruiting office downstairs. Tell them you're a freelancer and they'll bring you in. The rest is up to you."

"Thank you for your time, Aria." I nodded towards the asari and got up to go. Then I halted and turned around once more. "Can I ask you one last thing?"

"Knowledge is power and no one here has more intel than Aria. Speak."

Blah-blah.

"I heard a rumor…"

The space pirate gave me her most derisive snort. "We don't do this show anymore. Apparently, it violated the morality of each and every batarian on my station."

What could possibly– Nope. Nope-nope-nope.

"Actually, what I meant was, is it true that Omega had sightings of Collectors recently?"

The ageless face of the ancient creature became thoughtful. Then suspicious. Uh-uh, mayday-mayday. "Why do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Just some unholy human curiosity, I guess."

In a flash Aria was out of her seat and stood before me, head high; radiating power and awe like the evil pirate queen she so much loved to presume to be.

"You're pushing my patience with your bullshit, Alliance Navi Commander Ivy Shepard. Your supposedly dead ass shows up with a Cerberus ship the same time as human Terminus colonies go silent. You and your minions sniff around my station, trying to track down people better left for dead while asking a lot of strange and dangerous questions. Have you really thought this would escape my notice?"

Instinctively, I shifted my balance for a combat stance. Her eyes hardened even more, two violet crystals ready to rend flesh into pieces.

"Let's see. What if I tell you there had been an incident two years ago. An incident that involved not only Collectors but also the Shadow Broker's forces…" A cold and malicious smile twitched the corners of her lips. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "And what if I tell you that your new Cerberus girlfriend down there had been right in the middle of it?"

Lawson? I mouthed in shock before I could stop myself. What the fuck was going on? What was she hiding?

And just like that, all the uneasy trust I had struggled so hard for went up in flames. But the worst was that a part of myself actually smirked at been proven right. Trusting Cerberus? You wish!

Aria had drawn back and was watching me, obviously pleased with the H-bomb she had dropped onto my head.

"Enjoy your stay in my Sin City, Commander."