Author's notes: Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3 and all related characters and trademarks are property of EA/Bioware. Rated M for language, violence and suggestive themes.
Ink
Two: Icy Fingers Around My Heart
The shuttle was cold, too cold. She'd checked the atmospheric settings several times, but the shuttle VI insisted that this was as warm as it was possible to make the cramped space inside. Regardless, the tiny figure hunched over the flight controls shivered, goose bumps coating what skin was exposed to the open air.
She glanced around, taking in the sharp corners and dark spaces that now filled her life, none of them promising the safety or homely feeling she had grown to expect from them. As renewed tremors began rippling through her body, she rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warm, regarding the pale white skin warily. Images traced their way down her biceps, while the medical scars of her tortured past blazed across the pale ivory hide to declare a past sooner forgotten. Blood now threatened to hide these markings, a mixture of varying shades of red coating her forearms, dripping from her fingertips, clotting under her nails.
~o~0~o~
They were pressing in all around her, a motley array of knives, blunt objects and even a couple of pistols threatening her. Not that it mattered. She'd unleashed Subject Zero now, and the beast was baying for blood, any blood. She growled with almost feral hunger, her stomach churning in anticipation of the slaughter ahead. Already her mind was flooding with positive feelings she got when she let loose, a twisted gift from the Teltin facility.
With a flash, her biotics tore into the mob gathering around her. She flung one hand out, hurling a pair of her attackers into a wall hard enough to splinter their ribs, turning their innards to mush with barely a thought. The tang of blood filled the air, the scent of death, but it wasn't enough. Zero was loose, and she needed an appropriate sacrifice to sate her bloodlust.
The next few moments passed by in a blur of gore and violence, countless opponents rising up only to fall like wheat before the reaper's scythe, cut down before they could even lay hands on her. Blood spurted up from deep wounds, leaving her hands slick, warm and sticky. Some had even splashed across her face, running in tiny rivulets down past her nostril to sit on her top lip, matching the shade of her lipstick perfectly. As her face twisted in another bestial growl, the droplet was dislodged, finding its way past her teeth and onto her tongue. The iron tang sent shivers travelling through her core, a sensual thrill racing in her veins, causing her mind to soar on ever more intense highs. Zero revelled in it, craving more.
Then, just as suddenly as the surge in raw, primal emotion had come upon her, it vanished, replaced instead by the white-hot pain that suddenly tore through her. Agony screeched through her brain, but she could make no audible acknowledgement of the torment aside from a perplexed and indignant grunt. Like the beast she was, Zero retreated from the pain, leaving the other half alone to deal with it.
She looked down at the long, serrated blade that had pierced her, running through from her back to erupt out of her belly like some grotesque creature from a Twentieth Century movie. Her own blood, red like the fury that boiled within her, pumped out of the wound in massive, irregular spurts. Choking on a mouthful of bloody froth, her head rolled around so she could lock her gaze with the Batarian wielding the weapon, his grin cruel as he watched her skin pale while her lifeblood stained the deck.
~o~0~o~
She jolted at the memory, reaching down reflexively to her abdomen. Her stained fingertips stroked the smooth expanse of her belly, coming to an abrupt halt as they met the rough crust of Medi-Gel that had been hastily slapped over the opening. A rush job that any doctor would have been mortified to see, but the best she could do and nothing more than she needed. Shaking herself to free her mind from the memory of the pain, she glared with renewed intensity at the starfield visible through the shuttle's viewport.
~o~0~o~
The Batarian leered at her, revelling in watching her eyes grow dim and unfocused. His sharp teeth flashed as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the promise of watching her die exciting him visibly. His breath was hot on her forehead, the scent of stale alcohol and rotting food caught between his teeth causing her gorge to rise. Was this it? Was she going to die at the hands of this sick bastard?
Fuck no!
With a roar that only she could hear, Zero crashed against the bars of the cage that was her skull, a juggernaut barely contained. Fuelled by her anger, her hatred, her fear, the creature Cerberus had built tore free of the blade, ignoring the sheer wall of pain this threw at her. The animal inside of a tattooed woman spun, fist slamming into the Batarian's grinning face before his expression even had time to slip. In the next instant she had a hold of the weapon, still dripping with her own life. Stunned as he was, the Batarian still would not let go of the blade. A rumble in her throat, Zero strained against his grasp, twisting the weapon and the hand that held it. Bones cracked under her relentless fingers, granting her additional purchase to angle the tip of the blade…
The Batarian howled as his own weapon pierced his eyeball, ripping the orb from its socket and tracing a long gash along his forehead. Batarian blood mixed with Human, the alien's attempts to resist Zero's strength fading as pain overwhelmed all other instincts. With the last of his resistance, he cast the blade aside, hurling it clear of her grasp. The eye still stared in shock and horror from just below the ragged tip of the weapon, glaring with pleading despair as Zero knocked the alien to the floor. A kick to the head with her thick-soled boots, and the Batarian was still.
Zero turned from this last enemy only to find herself facing a wall of enemies, each one clutching a gun with a determined glint in his eyes. All weapons took aim at her heart, too many for her admittedly prodigious power to keep at bay. Even so, Zero rallied in preparation for a death none present would ever forget.
Before the tattooed creature could lunge, a loud crack reverberated through the room, followed by a wet thunk as one of the Batarians collapsed, a ragged hole torn through his head from back to front. A blinding white light shone directly in Zero's eyes, making her flinch back.
~o~0~o~
She jumped in her chair, spinning at the sudden noise. Her first instinct was to lash out at the intrusive presence, destroying whatever it was that had disturbed her. That instinct soon quelled, though, when she saw what had made the noise. It was still trilling loudly, exactly where it had been when she clambered aboard, discarded on the sheets of the bed in what passed for the shuttle's crew quarters, a scant six-foot by ten-foot room almost completely dominated by a bed that could, at a pinch, provide room for two.
She froze, unwilling to approach that part of the shuttle. She hadn't not since… not since then. Not since that place. Not since him.
Her first instinct was to do nothing. Perhaps the noise would go away on its own, if she ignored it for long enough. Why couldn't she just be left alone?
She spun away, facing forward again. Still the beeping noise ripped through the still air. She bit her lip, trying to summon the will to resist. After five minutes, she began to drum on the armrest uneasily, leaving scarlet fingerprints in her wake. The drumming finger-beats slowly evolved into a steady thumping of clenched fists on fake leather, growing more violent by the second. She growled, placing her hands securely over her ears, ignoring the icy cold of her implant against her right palm. Even so, the beeping drilled right through to her core. Her eyes clenched shut.
"Shutupshutupshutupshutup…" Maybe the mantra would grant her the lonely silence she so craved.
She felt anger rising in her throat. Zero had begun to pace about in the prison of her skull. Her heart began to pulse, the roar of blood in her veins echoing through her ears. Blue fire began to dance across her skin.
All around the cabin, little objects rose into the air, borne aloft by some unseen force. They shivered, held in the grasp of this power. Suddenly they began to drift through the air, moving in slow, lazy sweeps. Panels rattled in the walls, wires shivered in their housings, and the very panels of the viewport vibrated with a low hum.
"Rr-agh!" The growling shout unleashed the building rage before Zero could rise up to swallow her mind, a trick she had learned long ago to keep herself in control.
All around her, the floating items suddenly dropped to the floor in a loud cascade, the clatter of their plummet to the floor echoing around the hull of the shuttle noisily. Last to fall was the beeping object, the impact causing it to descend into silence.
The sudden lack of noise struck her more profoundly than when she'd been putting up with the damn beeping. Her stomach lurched as she imagined that maybe she'd broken the device, prompting her to dart to her feet, rushing over. Her initial reluctance to deal with the device forgotten, she hurriedly scooped it up, retreating back to the pilot's chair.
She handled the datapad as though it were made of precious china, trying not to let her fingers leave bloody smears all over it. Tentatively, she pulled up its list of contents, instantly finding her attention directed to one file, the one with the most recent timestamp. Hesitantly, she opened the file.
The datapad flashed, the screen turning a solid blue before a holographic cube appeared above it. Inside of this cube of shaped light, a set of familiar features came into being, an image of a man's head and shoulders. He wore the sardonic grin she recognised all too well, his rugged features twisting around the smirk until his eyes gleamed with an inner humour that could find something worth laughing about in any situation. His hair, always kept a little long, had drifted over his left eye, partially obscuring his face, although the scars of a long, hard life were still plain for anyone to see.
"Jack." His voice was coarse, rough. It was his own damn fault, what with all those cigarettes he smoked, but she'd long since come to accept it as a part of who he was. Besides, she loved to listen to that deep tone, spending many a night nestled up to his chest just so that that voice could tickle her ear.
"If you're watching this, I guess it means I didn't make it back out…"
~o~0~o~
"Jack!"
She spun at the call, looking over the turning heads of the mob harassing her to see those familiar eyes, that knowing grin. Clad in the thick leather jacket and denim jeans that hid a surprising array of technical gadgets to keep him safe, he was currently clutching a rifle, smoke still rising from its barrel. Casually, he lifted the gun to blast another of the aliens. He waved behind him, to where the brilliant glow of the shuttle's open door waited patiently.
"Time to go."
Nodding, she turned back to the attackers, summoning a surge of power to launch herself forward in a deadly charge through their ranks. Startled Batarians were flung aside with barely a thought, a trail of carnage following in her wake. In moments, she'd bulled through, giving herself a clear run at the shuttle. She turned to him.
"Go." He ordered, jerking his head back in the direction of the vessel. "I'll be right behind you."
"What the hell are you doing?" She demanded, raising her voice over the chattering gunfire that raced their way. "Where's the score?"
"Gone." He grunted. "Couldn't move quick enough with that cargo module strapped to the shuttle."
"What the hell?" She spluttered, anger rising in her chest. "Then this was all for nothing? You… you… asshole!"
"Better to come back from a wasted trip than not come back at all." He said firmly. "Now get the hell out of here. I'll cover you."
She growled angrily, but a volley of fire striking her barrier stopped her from fully venting her frustration on him. Instead, she spun, picking up a Batarian with her biotics and slamming him into the ceiling, then back into the floor, then into a couple of walls until nothing was left of him bar a bloody smear. This done, she darted for the waiting shuttle, leaping gracefully into the open hatch and spinning, ready to cover his escape.
As she turned, three wet smacks reached her ears. She turned to the source of the noise to see him, standing out in the open with his back to the enemy, a dazed look on his face. He looked up at her, eyes unfocused as his gaze brushed against hers, then he looked back down at his chest, at the rapidly widening stain that encircled three sharp holes in his torso. Then, another shot struck him in the shoulder, sending him tumbling to the floor. She screamed his name, watching from the shuttle door as Batarians closed in on his prone form.
~o~0~o~
"Gotta say, I didn't think it'd be like this, taken out by one bad bust." His image chuckled, a weary, half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood. She wanted to respond, to echo his attempt, but the stone where her heart had been offered no help in the matter. Instead, she maintained her cold, bleary-eyed stare, unable to look away, unable to withstand the truth of the message.
"Then again, I guess nobody ever expects to go out at all, really." The mirage in her hands, the pale impersonation of him, shifted uncomfortably, throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I woulda liked to have got you that apartment on Deira, though. The one with the view of the sea and those flowers that you liked growing up the side of the building. Would have been a nice way to spend all our ill-gotten riches: you 'n' me, getting old together. Getting thrown out of that bar down the street every weekend." His image's eyes glimmered, echoing hers. "It's a nice dream, but I guess a dream's all we get together, huh?"
His echo turned from her, glancing at something outside of the recording's field of view. Sighing, he turned back. He paused, biting his lip for a second, hesitant to stop with more in his heart to share.
"If this works, and you manage to get out of there, make sure to keep on living. There's nothing more important to me than having the chance to give you a good life, Jack. Live it well, and live it fully. Don't waste your time regretting this. I know I don't regret a thing. Not one second, not one memory, not one broken rib." The image laughed at this before another distraction dragged his attention out of the recording's focus.
"Alright. I'm almost at, uh, you. Guess it's time to give 'em a show." He made to stand up, but then paused. "Oh, and Jack?"
She twitched at this, sensing that the message was approaching its end. She steeled herself, ready to face the finality of his next few words.
"It's been fucking amazing. You've been amazing." He grinned wolfishly before the expression faded. "Goodbye, Jack. I love you."
~o~0~o~
She screeched in terror and anger as she watched the aliens crowd in, surrounding his body before she could even move. She tried to leap from the shuttle, to charge to his rescue, but Zero could see that the situation was hopeless, that charging into that mob would earn her nothing. The woman inside raged against the Cerberus creation, but could not overcome its cold determination to survive. Instead, her body froze in the hatchway, paralysed by her fear for him, unable to look away.
A Batarian strode forward, the one she had taken the eye from with his own weapon. The alien glanced down at the prone Human, then up at the screaming woman in the hatch of the shuttle. His mouth twisted, a feral glint sparking in his three remaining eyes. Taking up the weapon that had been turned on himself not so long ago, the Batarian knelt down, brushing his fellows aside to get at the Human on the deck.
She saw the alien reach down, lifting his head by pulling on the long strands of hair. The Batarian made sure that she could get a clear look at his unconscious face, the eyes rolling back in his head. Then, with a practised motion that he drew out much longer than was necessary, the alien brought the weapon's blade to the pale white throat and, locking his eyes on the young woman's horrified features, dragged the ragged edge across the vulnerable flesh, ignoring the crimson warmth that covered his hands. She screamed all the more loudly, despair crashing in on her mind. Then, with a jolt that surprised her, the shuttle responded to some kind of timed stimulus, lifting into the air and dragging her away. She clutched the edges of the hatch, staring out and down as the cluster of aliens receded behind her. The last thing she saw before the hatch slid shut was the Batarian wiping his blade off on the young man's clothing, turning away from the corpse with a look of disgust.
~o~0~o~
The datapad hit the nearest bulkhead so hard that it shattered into a hundred glittering fragments, the last remnants of its power sparking out of the torn ends of its wires brightly. Jack leapt from her chair, a scream of rage ripping loose from her throat and making the entire vessel reverberate in response. She paced around the confined space furiously, shaking her head from side to side in an attempt to eject the message from her mind.
How could he do that to her? How could he? As if she didn't have enough shit to deal with without him laying additional guilt on her shoulders. She could have handled dying. She could have handled being a prisoner of the squints. But now that asshole wanted her to live on instead of him? To make his sacrifice worth it? She seethed, these thoughts racing through her mind in a whirling blur.
After about an hour of this, her legs grew tired. She'd overextended herself, what with having to call on her biotics like that and then being injured to boot. Wearily, she shuffled her way to the back of the shuttle, clambering into the hauntingly cold bed. The tiny figure vanished beneath the covers, soon encasing herself in a cocoon that nobody could break into.
In the silence of the shuttle, quiet sobs could be heard, somewhat muffled by the blanket covering their source.
~o~0~o~
~ Two Months Later ~
Jack chewed on her lip as she leaned back in the chair, ignoring the dull heat coming from her chest as the tattoo artist went to work. The machine whined loudly, a grating noise that tested her patience, but she was stubborn enough to endure it. This was the fourth time she'd been to the Turian tattoo artist for this particular tattoo, and it was nearly finished. She'd be damned if she was going to put all that time to waste for nothing. Instead, she focused on glaring at the ceiling, allowing the Turian to put the finishing touches on the image.
Finally, after what felt like an impossibly long time, the alien sat back from his work, carefully putting his equipment away.
"There you are. All done."
She sat up, regarding her bare chest in the mirror he held up, hoping to earn her approval. There, now reaching out from the central point of a previously existing star-shaped tattoo, four skeletal hands pointed in different directions, two angling up and over her shoulders while the other two angled down towards her breasts. She regarded the mirrored image critically for a few moments, then sighed.
"Guess it'll have to do."
The Turian relaxed a little, unsure of what he'd have had on his hands if she'd taken a dislike to his work. He definitely didn't want to find out just how the aggressive little woman could let her displeasure be known.
"Great. I'll just get some Medi-Gel for your-"
"Keep it." She grunted. "I'm no pussy, I don't need it."
"But your-"
"I said: Keep it." Her teeth flashed around the words. With that, she turned to leave.
"Suit yourself." The Turian shrugged. As soon as she was out of his shop, it didn't matter one bit if she caught an infection. The sooner he could encourage her to leave, the better. But there was one thing that he couldn't quite let go of. "I have to ask, though- whhy hands?"
Jack paused in the doorway, considering turning to answer him. But then she realised that the alien probably wouldn't get it, anyway. He wouldn't understand how those hands, the ones curling up around her neck and the ones reaching down around her heart, belonged to a dead man. How she'd wanted to get them to outwardly express the way recent events had affected her inside, to maybe get those feelings out of her head so they'd stop bothering her. Not that it felt like it had worked. Even now, every time she blinked she saw his pale face, the blade sliding across his skin with just enough force to cut through it to unleash the blood within. Every moment she remembered the Batarian's cruel leer as he robbed her of the one thing she'd truly cherished, even though she'd never realised it.
With a grunt, she shouldered out of the tattoo parlour, ignoring the open stares flung her way as she strode through the filthy alleyway, still nude from the waist up. This was Omega, it had endured far worse things than a girl with her goods out in public. In moments, the tattooed woman had vanished from the main traffic ways, heading for the rarely explored shadows in the depths of the station. After a couple of minutes, she broke into a run, darting from hiding place to hiding place in her efforts to get to her current place of refuge. By the time she'd reached the abandoned shipping crate she called 'home', her freshly marked chest was heaving, Murtock's hands dancing in the dim light as she scrambled into this tiny refuge in the darkest corner of the Galaxy.
Author's Note: Whew! This was an intense little piece to write!
Like probably most people in the fanbase, I feel that my favourite character of the series didn't get nearly enough screentime in Bioware's latest offering, so I felt like I needed to do a little something I could publish that was just... pure Jackness, nothing else. Anyway, I'll be getting back onto the main project now, no more distractions, I promise!
Fainmaca Out.