Title: Small Spaces
Author: Miri1984
Game: Mass Effect
Characters/Pairings: Vivian Shepard
Rat crouched behind the crate, breathing shallow and slow to avoid being noticed. It was an old game, and one she played better than any one else in the Reds, the reason why they trusted her with deliveries that were less than legal, the reason why she managed to avoid the bigger kids when they were getting predatory, or the older boys when they were getting handsy. There was always a crack to slip into, a crevice to hide it, and if you were very, very still sometimes someone could be looking straight at you and they wouldn't even notice you were there.
These guys weren't reds. Or even members of any of the other gangs. They were too well equipped for that - white armour, shiny and easy to spot, with some sort of brand on it - writing underneath the brand that she couldn't quite make out and wouldn't be able to read if she could.
Stupid of them, to be walking around like that in the slums. The only reason they hadn't been stripped naked and dumped in the river was because of the guns they held - beautiful things that she coveted like the sweetest nori roll - the pistol the first man held would fit even in her small hand - the things she could do if she had a weapon - the people she could intimidate - the food she could steal…
…but having something like that would make her a target, and she let go of the fantasy of owning it almost as soon as it floated through her head.
"Boss said she was a biotic," the first man said. "Beats me how they work that out."
"If they're really strong they can do some shit even without the implants," the second - a woman - said. "Someone must have seen her do it."
"What? Like the Asari? Fuck."
"I had a cousin, back on Eden, she used to do little shit - you know, moving stuff."
"Weird."
"They sent her off to that place… what is it? Gargarin Station. I think she's Alliance now."
The man gave an ugly laugh. "Bet this one'll wish she got sent there."
"No one'll miss her, though. Which is the point of coming to this shithole and looking. If they tried this stuff with normal kids..."
"Bad luck for her."
Rat edged deeper under the crate and pressed her lips together. They were hunting. For her.
Why would anyone want to hunt for her?
The first soldier kicked a crate over. "Doesn't look like she's in here," he said. "We should try over by the markets. One of the kids said she steals stuff there sometimes."
"Shit, these kids…" the woman shook her head. "Someone should tell them they can just rock up to the embassy. Or enlist. They don't have to live like this."
"Some of them want to." The pair of soldiers walked off, out of earshot. Rat was careful to stay where she was for a while longer - she knew sometimes leaving was a tactic to flush you out of your hiding spot. She was good at waiting.
As she waited, her mind raced. She didn't know what the word "enlist" meant, but she intended to find out. If there was a way out of here - some way to get out of the reds, out of the slums, she meant to take it