Mackie and Nathan now lay back in their combined cabin on board the Helen. The small space was filled with the faint rumble of the ship's engines as they headed out from Bekenstein. The pair lay embracing each other on the small bed that barely fit into the cabin. Nathan sighed as he buried his nose in Mackie's hair.

"I saw the vid from when Hock forced you down. You took way too big of a chance walking out there."

The blonde rubbed his own nose into the crook of Nathan's neck. "Maybe. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

He was surprised to hear Nathan sniffle. It was the first real expression of sadness he'd ever heard from the guy. "You say that now."

"Hey, what's with all that?" Mackie looked up at Nathan. "I ain't some love 'em and leave 'em type. Well, at least I'm not one anymore. You've got me as long as you want me. And now we're both rich."

Nathan shrugged. "I got a coded message from Hackett. It appears I can get my old job back at Synthetic Insights. The official story is that I went off on sabbatical to, heh, rest and recharge."

"Oh. Is that what you want?"

The analyst nodded. "It's not the money. I need the mental challenge. I'm so sorry, Mackie."

Mackie smiled and patted Nathan's chest. "Why are you sorry? I always wanted to see London."

"You...you'd be willing to come along?"

"Why not?"

Nathan picked up his head to stare down at Mackie. "It's...I mean, Barcelona and all of what followed was very much an outlier. I really am just an analyst. My life's not going to be exciting at all. I fear it will be quite dull for you."

Mackie reached up and traced a fingertip along the scars on his face. "I think I've had my fill of excitement for a good long while. And besides, it's not like we're heading into some town in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure I can keep busy in a place like London."

Nathan arched an eyebrow. "Busy?"

"No funny stuff, I promise. I'm gonna be Mr. Clean from now on. C'mon, it'll be fun. We'll get an apartment, I can cook for you, and after a long day of toiling away in the data mines you can come home to me wearing a frilly apron and nothing else."

Nathan laughed. "I admit, that does sound nice." He gasped as Mackie gave a salacious grin and slid his hand lower.

----------------------------------------

Gabby sat in the wardroom of the Helen with Errol's head in her lap. The big varren's eyes were closed in bliss as she absently stroked the animal's bullet-like head. She didn't look up as Camicia strolled into the wardroom and set a ration pouch into one of the wall-mounted heaters. The turian sighed and sat on the other side of the table.

"We should hit the next relay in an hour." Cammy gave a little honking chuckle. "It feels kinda weird to not have anybody shooting at us."

Gabby didn't respond. She stared at the table and kept stroking Errol's head.

"What's with the long face?" asked the turian.

The engineer sighed. "The job is over. I've now got a bank account full enough to keep the wolf from my door for several lifetimes. I'm just trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life."

Cammy shrugged. "I thought you'd go back into the Alliance Navy."

Gabby chuckled, and there was a little edge of sadness in that laugh. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. My resignation letter was pretty final." She looked up at Cammy. "What are you going to do?"

The turian gestured to the ship around them. "Well, Mr. Wick is the official owner of this ship. But it seems like he and Persephone are determined to retire to some beautiful planet somewhere. They'll probably be going at it like a pair of teenage varren for a while, based on what they've done since we got paid. So the Helen probably won't see much use, which means I'm gonna be sitting around twiddling my thumbs. No thank you. I'll probably go back into work-for-hire like before."

"You definitely don't need the money, " said Gabby. "And I thought you hated excitement."

"Yeah, but I hate boredom even more."

The engineer looked away. "Hackett sent me a message. Apparently the turian-human design team which made the original Normandy is moving on to larger ship classes. They're trying to make a dreadnought with stealth capability. And they're always looking for new engineers."

"Well, there you go! Why all the moping?"

Gabby gave the pilot an embarrassed look. "It's just that I don't know anyone there. I hate going into situations where I'm the stranger."

"You did pretty well fitting in here."

"This was a one-time job. But Hackett's offer is more permanent. What if I hate it?" She drummed the fingers of her free hand on the table. "It would be better if I had a friend or two there. And that design team also needs test pilots."

Cammy raised one mandible in a questioning manner. "Ah. Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Gabby shrugged. "I know, it's probably too boring for you, but I just thought..."

"Nah, I'll do it. Sounds like fun. Where's the gig?"

----------------------------------------

The man in the gray suit slapped a pair of photos onto the desk. "These two."

Keno Ellins, the chief of the Benning chapter of the Blue Suns, leaned forward and looked the two images over with a critical eye. He was an older man with short, iron-gray hair. He raised an eyebrow at the Cerberus agent who stood over him. The guy's name was Fulcher, and the only reason Keno had allowed him into his office was the mighty stack of credits he'd come bearing.

"What'd they do to piss off The Illusive Man?" Keno asked.

"That doesn't concern you. Cerberus wants them dead. It has to be done so that no one will trace it to you or I. We will pay handsomely."

"How handsomely?"

Fulcher named a figure, and the older mercenary leaned back in his chair in shock. "Okay, you have my attention. Why so generous?"

"Because it won't be an easy job. The asari is an ex-commando, and the human is an assassin of considerable skill."

"I do appreciate your honesty." Keno leaned forward again and looked at the two pictures. "But I gotta run this one by my people."

The Cerberus agent stared at Keno in curiosity. "Why? Surely the money is more than enough."

"The money ain't the fuckin' problem." Keno plucked the photo of the man off of the table. It showed a gaunt man with black hair and an equally black, neatly-trimmed beard. "This guy? He's the fuckin' problem. Follow me."

He stood abruptly, causing the Cerberus agent to step back a little in surprise. Keno scooped the other photo off of the desk as well and walked out into the corridor without another word. After a bit of hesitation, the Cerberus agent decided he might as well do as instructed. He followed the mercenary out into a hallway lined with cheap wood paneling. The Blue Suns didn't spend their money on having a nice dwelling; they were more concerned with the quality of things at the sharp end, things like weapons and armor.

Keno didn't look back as he strode down the hallway and then made a sudden stop. He knocked briefly at the door next to him before heading inside. The agent had to jog to catch up.

The room beyond was paneled in the same cheap veneer and also definitely meant for recreation. There was a pool table in one corner, around which a few mercenaries stood and traded shots along with catcalls and obscenities. Near the opposite wall was a card table surrounded by other mercenaries. One of them threw her cards in disgust on the table as Fulcher entered, and her action caused a string of further jeers and foul language from everyone in the room.

"Listen up, people," said Keno with a quiet authority. Somehow his voice was able to cut through the general ruckus in the room.

Those in the room instantly quieted and turned to face their leader.

Keno gave them a grim smile. "We gotta possible job. It's a big payday, and it would put a nice fat bonus in all of your accounts."

The woman who'd just lost at poker stood. "We're always up for a job, boss. You know that. What's the hold up?"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Keno held up the two photos so that those in the room could see them. "Because the job is for these two. They need to die."

One of the other poker players rose. He was a huge man with shoulders which would have done Atlas proud, but his face was troubled as he regarded the images. "Can I get a closer gander at 'em, boss?"

Keno nodded and handed the two photos to the huge man. The mercenary took a long look at them while the woman peered around his arm. He turned the pictures so that she could see them as well. The two mercenaries regarded the photos in silence for a couple of minutes, then they looked at each other. She shook her head, and he nodded in agreement.

The huge man straightened up and handed the photos back to Keno. "No can do, boss."

Keno nodded as he took the pictures back. He didn't look angry, just resigned. "Yeah, I thought as much."

The Cerberus agent felt like he had to say something. "Come on! This is ridiculous!" He waved his hands at the roomful of clearly dangerous people. "We're only talking about two people!"

"The asari would be bad enough," said the huge mercenary. "But the guy in black? He ain't human. I heard he took out Jax and his boys on the Citadel with only a fuckin' knife."

The woman now spoke up. "I have some contacts who can access the Spectre information network. He's the one who killed an Ardat-Yakshi while he was tied to a chair. Bit her damn throat out."

One of the pool players also spoke up. "Aw fuck, is it that guy? I heard he took out an N7 with his bare hands." He shook his head. "No way you can pay me enough to mess with that world of pain."

Keno turned to the Cerberus agent and shrugged. "Ya see? Sorry, my man. You want 'em gone, you gotta take 'em out yourself." He handed the photos back to Fulcher.

----------------------------------------

Fulcher was a man on a mission. He'd told The Illusive Man that he'd kill those two, and that was what he was going to do. He snorted silently at the memory of the superstitious mercenaries he'd tried to recruit a few months ago. It had taken awhile, but he now had resources of his own, trained Cerberus operatives who wouldn't flinch at the first hint of danger. These people should certainly be capable enough to take care of his targets.

He lay on his stomach amongst the scrub grass and sand while he peered through binoculars at the distant house. It was a single-story affair which overlooked one of Benning's many oceans. The house was flat-roofed and cantilevered out over a steep hillside. It was all glass and metal and clearly very damn expensive, but with a low-key kind of luxury. Fulcher did another scan and saw some movement through the front windows.

"Stay frosty, people," he murmured into his comm. "They're coming out."

His comm crackled in his ear. "Looks like another evening on the town," said the other spotter. The woman was about a hundred yards to his left and also scanning the house with her own optics.

Fulcher's grip tightened on his binoculars as the front door to the house slid open. Two figures emerged, a petite asari in a red dress and a tall man in a dark blue suit. The man turned back to give the varren in the doorway a few vigorous pats. The beast trotted off back inside as the door slid closed and the pair headed for their aircar parked out front.

"The guy's got guts, I'll give him that," said the spotter. "I'd be too damn worried about losing my hand to pet a varren."

"They can actually be pretty chill if you treat 'em right," said one of the other operatives.

"Keep the channel clear," said Fulcher subvocally. "Tracking team, you're up."

"On 'em," came the drawling reply.

The aircar slid away from the house with a faint whirr. It rose and made a beeline for the nearby town.

"I've got five credits that says they're goin' to Rossini's again," said the spotter.

"You're on," said the voice of the 'varren expert'.

Fulcher sighed. He nearly snapped out another command to keep the channel clear, but decided that a little back-and-forth banter wouldn't hurt. He wriggled himself back away from the house, and once he was a good distance away he stood and touched his ear.

"Okay, people. This is it. Stay sharp and do it by the numbers."

He ran in a crouch towards his own aircar. The other spotter was already in the pilot's seat and warming up the craft. They lifted off just as his door closed.

The voice of the tracking team leader sounded in the aircar's cockpit. "They're heading into the town center."

The spotter grinned as she took the aircar in a wide arc out over the ocean. "Told ya."

"Now, now," said the voice of the 'varren expert'. "There's three restaurants downtown. Let's wait and see..."

The comm crackled as the tracking team leader interrupted. "They're goin' to Rossini's. Looks like you lost five credits, dude."

"I expect prompt payment," said the spotter.

"All right, enough verbal grab-ass," said Fulcher. "Tracking team, what are they doing?"

"Getting seated," came the reply. "They're at their usual table towards the back. Might get a chance at a clean shot through the front windows, but it would be tricky."

Using a sniper would have been Fulcher's preferred method of execution. But that would definitely smell of an assassination and would re-trigger a costly war between Cerberus and the Organization. No, this had to look like a couple of random deaths from a robbery gone wrong.

Fulcher switched his comm to another channel. "Entrance team, are you in position?"

"Yep, we're all locked and loaded. Just give the word."

"Hold position and wait for my signal. I still need to get there." Fulcher's aircar swooped towards the town from a vector different than that used by his quarry. The only way he was going to report success to The Illusive Man was to see their deaths with his own eyes.

"You want the parking garage post?" asked the spotter.

"Yes. Drop me off and get to your own vantage point. Make sure your rifle's camera is recording."

"Will do." The aircar hovered over the top of the parking garage as Fulcher opened his door and hopped out. He landed with a thud as the aircar curved away in a graceful arc. Fulcher jogged to the edge of the concrete expanse, making sure to keep low. Once he was pressed against the cement wall at the edge, he peeked over it. After a quick scan, he pulled out his binoculars. He made sure to shield the optics with his hands; it wouldn't do to have a glint from the setting sun give away his position.

He could just make out the two targets. They were seated in the rear of the restaurant and already had an opened bottle of wine sitting between them. The pair chatted with each other as they scanned the menus.

The spotter's voice sounded in his ear. "In place, boss. Got a good bead on 'em both."

"Do not fire unless I give the word, understood? Tracking team, are you in position?"

"Yep."

"Entrance team, are you ready?"

"Ready to rock, boss."

Fulcher took a deep breath to calm himself before giving the go-signal. And at that exact moment the red-clad asari set her menu down and stood. She leaned over to give the tall man a kiss before heading off.

The tracking team leader's voice sounded out. "Shit. The asari is moving. Looks like she's headed for the bathroom. You want us to follow?"

"No. Stay with the man. He's the more dangerous one. Entrance team, hold position. We'll wait for her to return. Everyone, keep the channel clear. Sing out only if you see something."

There were various assents over the comm, then all fell silent as the time stretched out.

The cement dug into Fulcher's elbows as he waited impatiently. His nerves were jangled; they'd spent weeks tracking these two and learning their patterns, which was followed by another two weeks planning this hit. He took a deep breath and told himself to relax, then checked the time. It had been at least five minutes since she'd left. But he had no idea how long it took an asari to powder her nose.

The tall man inside the restaurant didn't seem fazed by his companion's absence. A waiter stopped by the table and chatted a bit. It was clear that the pair were regulars at this place. That was good; it would make their deaths look like simple bad luck.

He checked the time again. Ten minutes since she'd left. Okay, time to change plans a little. "Tracking team, move to the rear of the restaurant and check on her."

There was no reply. The first bit of chilly fear traced down Fulcher's neck. "Tracking team, report in."

No reply. Shit. Well, he'd have to settle for killing one of them. "Entrance team, go go go."

His comm stayed stubbornly silent, and no masked figures approached the restaurant's door. That cold fear was now all down his back. "Sniper, take the shot. Repeat, take the shot."

As he feared, he heard and saw nothing. Fulcher peered through the binoculars, gripping them tightly with hands which were now very sweaty. The dark-haired man's head didn't explode in a cloud of blood. Instead, he set his menu down and looked out the windows, right at Fulcher. He gave a little smile and a nod.

Fulcher jerked back from the edge and fumbled out his own pistol. He turned in a crouch and scanned the swath of concrete in front of him. There were no other cars on the roof, nowhere to hide. He didn't waste time in yelling threats or posturing. He had to get to the ramp and get down inside. Once he had some cover, he could try calling for backup.

He scuttled towards the down-ramp with his head on a swivel. There was nothing visible. He kept his pistol trained in front of him as he all but ran down the ramp and made sure to sweep around looking for anyone hiding behind it. There was nobody in sight. But there was a nice big ground van in one corner of this garage level, and he ran for it.

As he approached the van he caught a glimpse of red between the wheels of its undercarriage. Fulcher slowed his approach as he reached the van's bumper. He raised his pistol and quick as he could spun around the van's corner and pointed his weapon at the asari crouched behind the vehicle. Before he could fire the weapon was torn from his hand by a blue glow. The asari held up a hand and his gun settled into her palm with casual ease. He began to backpedal with his hands up as she stalked forward with a small smile on her face.

She gave his gun a casual glance and then looked up again. "No serial numbers, I bet. Completely untraceable." With nimble fingers she began to disassemble the gun, throwing bits of it off into the dark of the parking garage as she kept walking forward. "Same as the guns on those other halfwits. Does that sound about right, Mr. Cerberus?"

Fulcher didn't bother denying anything. He knew he was a dead man. "My team?"

"All dead. Consider it my fine for interrupting our meal." She tossed the last bit of his gun into the dark, then pulled out an elegant little pistol of her own.

Fulcher dropped his hands. He knew it was pointless to run. "Just make it quick."

The asari laughed. "Oh, you're staying alive. You need to carry a message to The Illusive Man. John and I are retired. We're out of the game. However, if you keep fucking around like this then we will be very much back in the game. And his ass will be first on our list. Be sure you tell him that...once you get out of the hospital."

She dropped the pistol's muzzle and with two precise shots blew out Fulcher's knees. He dropped to the concrete with a thud, the sudden and immense pain seizing his throat and preventing him from screaming. Without looking back the asari spun on her heels. Her red dress swirled around her legs as she walked away.

----------------------------------------

John looked up as Persephone came back to the table. "Everything go okay?"

The asari seated herself with an arched eyebrow. "Of course."

He nodded and poured her a little bit more wine. "How many?"

"Eight, not including the head boy. I think they were trying to make it look like a robbery." She picked up her glass and took a sip. "I already called in the dinner reservations for 'em."

"Thanks. You pass along our message?"

"I did. I just want this to be the end of it. I'd hate to have to leave Benning. I like watching the waves in the morning."

John smiled. "I like watching you watch the waves."

She made a barely-perceptible movement as she removed one shoe with her other foot. He felt her now-bare foot rub against his shin. "I bet you do. Seriously, though, do you think they'll get the hint?"

John shrugged. "Cerberus will know after this that the risk versus reward is too high. They're not stupid. They'll stop throwing good money after bad."

"I hope you're right. Errol is finally settling down. Having to travel will just get him all riled up again."

"So you're okay with having him around?" asked John.

"He's...grown on me. I have to admit, he is kinda cute." She winked at him. "Not as cute as you, though."

John Wick gave a small laugh as he picked up his menu. "So what are you thinking? I was gonna try the fish."