For as long as she could remember, Gillian had been alone.
She sat on the floor in the corner of her cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she waited for the door across from her to slide open. The sleeveless, shoeless uniform from yesterday's testing still clung to her tall, slender frame, tattered and torn and stained with sweat and blood. Her long, tangled hair fell around her like a black veil, concealing her hazel eyes and the typical expression of a high-functioning autistic. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting like this, or how long she had been waiting for breakfast – in fact, even the concept of time and its passage eluded her, as if seconds, minutes, days, and weeks no longer held any meaning, and time itself ceased to be important.
That tended to happen to Cerberus prisoners.
Gillian Grayson had a long history with the pro-human organization, widely (and rightfully) hated by the entire galaxy, by Council and non-Council races alike. Between their constant experiments that always seemed to end in death and destruction, the terrorist attacks on any non-human settlement or group, and their high body count of important leaders, peacekeepers, and heroes, Cerberus was a "humans-first" paramilitary group that considered every option a justifiable option, and that securing the ascension of humanity was worth every brutal execution and every catastrophic act of sabotage. Gillian had been a valuable pawn in the work of Cerberus since the day she was born – the day she was ripped out of her mother's dying arms and delivered to an agent by the name of Paul Grayson.
For decades, Cerberus had worked to create the most powerful human biotic the galaxy had ever seen. The ability to create localized mass effect fields, granted by nodes of element zero that lined the central nervous system, was a rare and powerful ability, one that few individuals were capable of developing let alone mastering. Despite the advances made by the Alliance in the development of implants and biotic training, humans were still completely outclassed in terms of ability by races like the asari, who practically learned how to manipulate gravity before even learning how to walk. Cerberus deemed Alliance efforts insufficient, claiming that clinging to morality about safety and mental health was holding back progress, keeping humanity from becoming the dominant race it was evidently destined to be. So the human-survivalist group took matters into their own hands, and after years of suffering and death, managed to produce a single human biotic that could take on four asari commandoes while unarmed and walk away without a scratch.
And that biotic was sitting in that cell, her stomach rumbling as it tried to digest empty space and failed.
Lacking any other options, Gillian decided to run through her memories again. She thought back to all the nights when her father and his friend pumped her full of drugs, meant to stimulate her biotic potential but worsening the problems caused by autism. She thought back to a normal day in the cafeteria, when she freaked out and inadvertently created a singularity all because Nick had made her spill her milk. She thought back to the day that her father took her from Grissom Academy after a seizure, dragging along her teachers Hendel Mitra and Kahlee Sanders for the ride that left them all trapped in a warehouse on Omega. She thought back to how Paul Grayson's "friend" planned to sell them all to the Collectors, and how they had all been rescued by one brave young quarian on his Pilgrimage. She remembered how Lemm'Shal had taken them all to the Migrant Fleet, where they were given refuge while Cerberus looked for her relentlessly. She remembered the day that the Idenna came under attack by Cerberus, led by her father in search of her and then foiled by the same man. Other memories floated past her, like how she helped the crew of the Idenna fight back against a batarian slave ship that thrust her into a mission to take vengeance on the Illusive Man.
A mission that, given her current situation, had not succeeded.
The sound of a sliding door opening in a familiar hissing noise interrupted Gillian's thoughts, and she looked up slightly to see three figures standing outside her cell. Two of them were huge, armored, and carrying assault rifles, while the third was a head taller than her, wearing heels and a lab coat and using an omni-tool. The larger figures each took a tray from out of sight and slid them in front of her, and then the door closed again.
"Time for breakfast, Gillian," said a chipper female voice, "Eat, and then get dressed. We have another big day ahead of us."
Gillian gave no reply as she sat up, stretching her stiff back as she moved to a kneeling position. She ate the plate of processed nutritional paste without a word, pausing only to swallow and take a sip of acrid-tasting energy drink to wash down the tasteless mush. The usage of biotics took such a toll on her metabolism that caffeinated, electrolyte-saturated beverages were all but required to keep her from passing out – and although the plate she had just cleaned had enough carbs to make an entire pack of varren grow fat and lazy, Gillian barely felt the hunger subside as she wished there was more to consume.
After licking the last of the goop off the plate, Gillian looked at the fresh jumpsuit that had arrived alongside her morning meal. It looked exactly the same as all the other jumpsuits she had worn – same silver cloth, same sleeveless design, same golden hexagonal symbol that identified her as property of Cerberus.
She pulled off the tattered remains of yesterday's outfit, sighing in relief and resignation as she picked up the new uniform. She pulled it on carefully, wincing slightly as she tightened the belt around her waist. Before securing it completely, she ran her hand over the small, almost-invisible scar that nonetheless constantly reminded her of the mistake she had made in her rampage of revenge. Kai Leng, the Illusive Man's top assassin, had gotten a near-fatal hit in using a shiv he had fashioned out of a toothbrush, but heavy doses of medi-gel and rapid response from trained medical professionals had saved her – or rather, saved all the work and effort that Cerberus had poured into making her the most powerful human biotic to ever live. Still, Gillian was not ungrateful that she was alive; after all, how embarrassing would it be if the most powerful human biotic had been killed with a toothbrush?
After getting dressed, Gillian knocked three times on the door, signaling to her "friends" that she was decent. The doors slid open again, and Gillian now stood at eye-level with the scientist, backed by two Assault Troopers with fresh thermal clips in their weapons.
"Good morning, Gillian," said the scientist, "did you sleep well?"
Gillian nodded without saying anything.
"Excellent. Now, could you hold out your arms for me?"
She did so, knowing full well what was coming. It was the same thing every day, the same procedure and the same routine. After breakfast, she would be escorted through the security station, where she would get her biotic amp plugged into her implant. Then biotic demonstrations, where she would demonstrate mastery of every ability she had learned. Then the biotic amp would be removed again, and she would be put in the chair. After a few hours in the chair, lunch. After lunch, she would take a nap while hooked up to a bunch of wires. Then she would get her amp plugged back in, and then she would go into the chair for a few more hours. Supper was next, followed by watching videos of other people doing biotics. Then she would be returned to her cell after her amp was removed again, and then she was told to sleep until breakfast was served again. It was a painful, arduous, horrible routine – but at least it was consistent.
One of the Assault Troopers pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pouch, slamming them over Gillian's thin arms and binding them together. Then the scientist started walking down the hall, and Gillian followed by her side, as the Assault Troopers brought up the rear.
Another day awaited her.
Another day, just like every other.
(A/N) This is my first ongoing story on this website, but far from my first ongoing story overall. I'm mostly writing this for myself, and plan to update it more frequently as time goes on.
For those unfamiliar with the books, Gillian Grayson was a twelve-year-old girl in the tie-in novel Mass Effect: Ascension. She was autistic, a super-powerful biotic, and one of my favorite secondary characters in the novels. She's not mentioned or referenced to outside of the games (aside from a brief side remark from Tali in Mass Effect 2), but she still held a lot of appeal for me personally; as someone who has lived with Asperger's Syndrome (and autism in general from the rest of my family), I immediately identified with Gillian Grayson, and was glad to see such a powerful character with a character trait that I live with.
And then Mass Effect: Deception came along and screwed all that up.
BioWare has said that they would go back and re-release a new version of the book with the continuity errors corrected, but they never did. And I don't hold it against them; between Dragon Age: Inquisition, the upcoming Mass Effect: Andromeda, and putting out fires related to the ending of Mass Effect 3, there really was no good financial or worthwhile reason to correct a book that almost no one read anyways. And it's not like the plot problems would be corrected either; in the end, Gillian Grayson would still probably die because the Illusive Man and Kai Leng needed to stay alive for Mass Effect 3 (for some reason). So this isn't a rewrite; it's a continuation. Gillian's story was butchered and overlooked, and it's about time she got a story that continues the little autistic girl I liked in Ascension.
Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!
