Author's Note:Moving into the game now. Should be in recognizable territory. Again, this is left of cannon so changing up a couple small things that work better for story than for gameplay.
Sorry on not updating yesterday, had a long day at work.
Enjoy! R&R please!
"Commander Shepard, Shepard you need to wake up." A voice permeates the darkness that surrounds her, she knows the woman must be talking to her, but she can't find what she needs to do. Things feel slow and hazy. "Shepard, open your eyes. Wake up."
Eyes, yes, that's what's wrong. She slowly opens her eyes now she's found them, blinking away the light that shines brightly. "Shepard, that's it. wake up. You need to move." Shepard rolls onto her side, groaning from pain that radiates all over. Her skin itches and burns, muscles feeling a deep clenching ache. Even her bones seem to radiate pain. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry. We had to wake you early. Come on marine. you need to move, fast. I don't know how much longer I can stay on the line."
Shepard sighs softly as she uncurls closing her eyes again she pushes herself up to sit on the edge of the table. An IV tugs at her arm, she looks down to see a dermal braid attached to her right arm. She takes hold and gently tugs it free, ignoring the trickle of blood that flows where the needles come out.
"Shepard, you need to move, the station is under attack, I need to go. There's a pistol in the desk near you, you'll have to find thermal clips for it. Follow the evac signs, I'll meet you in the shuttle bay."
"Wait." Shepard croaks out, her voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper. She coughs to clear her throat and tries again. "Wait, Who are you?" Her voice is still hoarse but louder.
"Miranda Lawson. Now hurry. Move. Watch out for the-" static hisses across the line as it goes dead.
"Miranda?" Shepard carefully stands, when there's no reply she turns around on shaky legs and sees the desk set against one wall. She takes a few careful steps to the desk, her arms held out for balance. Weary to the bone from such a short movement, she leans against the desk with her hands gripping the edge. She gasps softly as she catches sight of them. Her long fingers and hands are nothing but skin and bone, deathly white with these strange hairline cracks in her skin, faintly glowing red. She warily touches one of them on her left hand, it feels like a scratch, small stinging pain radiating. She opens the drawer of the desk and pulls out the small hand pistol that is laying there.
She hefts it, glad for the light weight of it, unsure if she can handle anything heavy. She wonders what happened to her. The way her skin itches it reminds her of when she had a skin graph for a bad burn in her early days as a marine. So, she was badly burned. But how? When? She can't grasp details. she can barely remember bits and pieces, things keep shifting and moving. Shaking her head she moves toward the only door to the small sterile room.
The door opens swiftly at her touch opening to a hall outside going to her right, ending in another door. she spots a body crumpled against the far wall, someone in security maybe. He is wearing no armor but has an empty holster at his hip, a bullet wound through his chest. She kneels down carefully, trying to stay steady, her bare feet touching the still warm pool of blood around the man. She reaches into his pockets, finding a set of thermal clips. she draws them out. Investigating the body she sees a symbol on his uniform shirt, a six sided oval with an opening at the bottom and two framing bars on either side. It triggers something in her memory, but she can't place it. She shakes her head, a steady ache beginning to build behind her temples, standing up again she ratchets the thermal clips into her gun.
She turns and walks to the far door, still unsteady on her feet. She has to stop by the door, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.
"Shepard.." Miranda's voice comes back across the coms, static filled and broken up, "Beware...mech drones...someone's hacked.." she breaks into dead static again.
"Dammit." She swears as the line goes dead again. Mechs, mechs she can deal with. Hacked mechs shouldn't be too hard. She looks to her left arm out of habit and swears again when she sees her omnitool missing. She looks to her pistol as she pushes herself up off the wall. This is going to be tricky.
She palms the door open and steps into a wide, open room with a multitude of doors leading off of it. She only gets a moment's look before bullets rip into the bulkhead beside her. She throws herself behind a set of planter boxes, flinching away from shots that skirt off her cover, kicking up dust and dirt. She peers over in a pause in the firing. Seeing four mech drones across the way, under an emergency exit sign.
She gets the feeling someone does not want her alive or off this station. She takes aim and fires her pistol into the mechs. Aiming for their chests, not trusting her shaking arms to hit headshots.
She takes down two of the mechs before the remaining two open fire on her, forcing her to duck down again. She curses the plain grey scrubs she's wearing, she'd kill for some armor or even a shield generator right now. When the second break comes she stands and whirls around her cover, pistol up and firing as fast as she can as she walks forward, knocking down and back the two mechs. One's chest explodes from her hail of bullets, the second she takes out with a close range headshot.
Stepping up to the remnants she looks them over. Drones, mechs designed for personal security. She's impressed, she thought only the elite ever had such a thing. But then again, maybe they do. She still has no idea where she even is. This isn't an Alliance station, but other than that she has no idea.
She picks up more thermal clips, reloading her gun she steps through the open doorway into another hall. This one has a small office off to the left, she steps in and looks around. A small rotating holographic image catches her eye, an icon reading 'logs'. Curious she presses the button and listens to the log entry as she looks at the holo of a human woman spin.
It's in the woman, Miranda's, voice, talking about a subject responding well to cellular growth and bone reconstruction. She doesn't give a name. Maybe there are others in this facility, on this station. Other patients like herself. Shepard steps away from the console and back into the hall, continuing down she spots another body, a woman, half out of the doorway to a restroom. Stepping up Shepard examines the body. The young woman is a wearing a medic's uniform and is holding a datapad in her hand. Shepard looks over the pad, not able to understand all the medical jargon listed there, it's more reports on cell growth is all she does understand. What is this place? Cell growth is just medical theory as far as she knew.
She turns back toward the hall as the sound of alarm klaxons ring out. It brings back a flash of memory, fire, everywhere, ship alarms going off. Her heart races fast, causing her to grip the edge of a sink to hold herself up as the memory fades away again. What was it? Why can't she remember? She peers into a fragment of the mirror above the sink and gasps in shock.
The face looking back at her is both hers, and not hers. More of those red lines trace a lattice work across her features. Like faint tattoos. Her normal red hair is dark and washed out, hanging limp down her back and across her shoulders, impossibly long. She gathers it up, looking in awe at its length, she's never seen it so long before. She ties it into a quick knot to get it out of her face and looks back to the mirror. Her skin looks like ash turned leather. Both soft and brittle to the touch, it grips tight to over prominent bones. No fat layer, and barely any muscle mass to her body. What draws her attention most is the red glow of her eyes. Where her pupils should be they are dilated wide and glowing a faint red. Cybernetic implants. Only, her brown irises are still there, thin amber brown rings around the inner pupil. Cybernetic eyes do not have irises.
She backpedals from the mirror, scrambling away from the image, her heart racing again as she begins to shake. What's happened to her? She turns and flees from the room, trying to forget that image, the lines on her hands and arms a stark reminder she can't avoid.