After the spotless purity of the Citadel, Omega felt even more grungy and dilapidated.

Unlike Afterlife, where not many were allowed to go, anyone could get into the seedy club, Dark, without any trouble. This "establishment" worked around the clock, and was situated on one of the winding streets of Kenzo - not a very prestigious Omega district – much like a labyrinth.

The mercenary looked around cautiously and, not noticing anything suspicious, headed towards a two-story building with a shimmering neon sign saying "Dark". The owner of the building was a Volus. Gossip had it he was wanted for securities fraud on the Citadel but was clever enough to escape the hands of justice.

A characteristic unpleasant sound made the woman stop again only to squeamishly wince - twenty steps away from the bar's entrance a human man on all fours was vomiting right on the pavement. Soon she saw a Turian, wearing armor, approach from the bar, and kick the poor puking bastard in the thigh, which, apparently, expressed contempt. Then the kicker went in her direction and passed her by, baring his teeth.

He was probably just smirking at her. Not wanting to get into a useless fight - there were more important things to do – she started walking fast, without looking back at one of her former enemies, and within seconds reached the bar's entrance.

The bar's interior was very poor and even repulsive. Even in semi-darkness visitors could see bullet scoring on the walls and weird stains on the dirty floor and tables, scattered about the hall, as if the personnel had not had time to move the furniture to the right places after another fight or shootout.

She couldn't help thinking that some of the stains were probably dried blood. The woman had long ago become accustomed to this kind of spectacle, but still felt vaguely nauseous.

The facility was empty, at this late hour, except for three Batarians sitting in the far corner, who loudly discussed the upcoming flight to one of the Minos Wasteland systems, and an Asari with a badge on her chest, apparently, one of the staff. She was indifferently polishing the glass and giving dirty looks to a human man sitting at the bar.

The mercenary recognized him straightaway, and if she was not in such a bad mood, she would have smiled.

When he saw her, he stood up and beckoned her with his hand.

The Asari studiously observed the humans go to the door of one of the individual booths.

Zaeed sat at the table and trifled with a very rare trinket - a hunting knife with beautiful amber handle in which a scorpion was imprisoned.

"What are you so upset about, Babe?" Zaeed asked in a joking tone, but not getting any reaction from the mercenary, he added, a little worried for her: "Hey, we don't have much time, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember..."

"You're not upset enough to tell me what happened, though. You didn't have a good time on the Citadel? Did you meet any of your old Alliance pals?"

"No... I mean, I did, but not them. I met somebody else."

"Wait... It wasn't..." Massani frowned. "Listen to me, I didn't get into this fucking shit again so you could lose your fucking head and rush back into some shithole to chase that spiky buddy of yours! Stop acting like a frivolous girl! You've got a job to do, and if you don't have the guts, you shouldn't have started it!"

"Fuck you! Go to hell!" She yelled right back.

"Oh, I've been there, girl, when you were still wet behind the ears. And even then I knew what "duty" meant."

The mercenary suddenly laughed loudly. "You? Oh, yes, of course. You would die for an extra credit, Zaeed." She looked at him with contempt and walked across the room to put space between them. Massani trifled with the hunting knife for a few more seconds, his frighteningly different eyes carefully looking at the blade. Then he nonchalantly threw the knife on the table before looking at the mercenary.

After a moment of silence, he said very gently:

"You are no longer a child, Babe Janey. I thought being an Alliance Marine and the war made you grow up."

"Shut up! I'll do what's required of me," she said, between gritted teeth. "This is as much my business as it is yours!"

The mercenary returned to the table and, having picked up the knife, she, almost reverently, ran her fingers over the blade and handle.

The village lay almost by the ocean. The setting sun gradually painted the white walls of wretched typical houses a pleasant pink. Cold wind blew at her back, chilled her to the bone, making her shiver.

Wrapping up in a loose sweatshirt, the barefoot teen, in soaked and very short shorts, was heading towards the buildings. There were goosebumps on her bare legs, her teeth were chattering with cold, and her hair was still wet after her evening swim. She walked carefully down a path, dotted with small rocks, trying not to hurt her feet accidentally.

A man with long grey hair sat on a low chair, leaning his back against a whitened wall. He was carving some kind of a float out of wood, using his hunting knife with an amazing handle. She thought that, perhaps, only in such a faraway corner of the world such an activity did not seem archaic.

The teen came up to him and, without saying a word, sat down next to him on the ground, also leaning against the wall. She hastily pulled her knees up to her chest; her sweatshirt covering her legs so that only her bare feet could be seen. A small smile appeared on his tanned face, but the man did not stop carving his float. The wood shavings kept falling on the sand at his feet until the teen moved closer to him and pressed her cheek against his forearm.

This man now smelled like the sea. In the weeks he'd spent here, he'd grown a beard and barely taken off his bandana. To her he looked like a pirate, she wished he had a parrot on his shoulder.

"You're shaking like a leaf," the man reproached her. "I told you the water is already too cold."

She just chuckled and wrapped both her hands around his arm just above his elbow. For a moment there was silence. Smiling, the man looked at the ocean in the distance.

"Do you think there are oceans on other planets, too?" the teen asked. It was a childish question, but the man wasn't surprised.

"How about you do what I tell you to do and find out for yourself? See with your own eyes... You're not going to mooch off of me until the day I die, are you? Huh, Babe?"

"Old grumpy," she snorted with laughter but then suddenly straightened up, warily peering into the distance. "Someone's coming, Will. They're not from around here."

The man answered nothing, and only nodded his head in the direction of the hut, ordering her without words to go inside. The teen immediately got to her feet and hurried into the wretched building.

She was alarmed that the approaching strangers were dressed in armor. Without knowing why, she grabbed a gun, and pressed her back against the wall, watching what was happening outside through the window.

"What a leggy bitch," said one of the strangers, stocky, dark-haired, and brown-eyed. "Do you have enough stamina to satisfy a teenage girl?"

The teen was breathing heavily, and a blue and white glow appeared around her body. The second stranger - lean, brown-haired and light-eyed - shook his head, but could not hold back a smile.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself," Will answered with dignity. "And instead of talking about my woman, you'd better tell me where exactly did my money go?"

The teen smiled and relaxed.