Chapter 10 – Cure and Run

Shepard had well about had enough of Vorcha by the time he reached the Environmental Controls. He rubbed his shoulder with a grunt, pistol in his other hand. He had run out of clips dealing with Rocket Launchers. Shaun had been wiser, managing to sneak and fight with hand to hand combat or a weapon retrieved from the dead body of a Vorcha. His gun was locked and loaded, strapped to his back and ready for action when he needed it. Shepard had to admit, the sniper was good. Well trained, efficient, quick as lightning with body his body and mind, and smart enough to create back up plans in a tight situation.

"Last door, what's the bet that we run into Vorcha?" Shaun asked teasingly, looking to his commander with a childish grin. Shepard groaned deeply, brows furrowed in an ill contained sense of controlled rage. Shaun was grateful that Shepard didn't do anything else but click a fresh clip into his pistol. Mordin had given Shaun a new pistol, but Shepard had kept his own at his side. he didn't trust any weapon he hadn't deconstructed and reconstructed himself, it was just a principle. Shaun looked and shook his head. The sniper was more at ease with a strange weapon, possessing an uncanny ability to know them from a single touch. He silently slid the pistol he had gained from Mordin into Shepard's spare holder, the gleam in his eyes commanding.

"A bullet between the eyes" Shepard growled softly, pressing the controls to open the door to their final destination.

"You no come here!" A Vorcha growled as it ran to stand before its team. It turned, staring at the wall behind it. Shepard took in the sight quickly, knowing the controls when he saw them. Inwardly he cursed, knowing his luck had run dry. Shaun was grinning like a little boy who had just stolen his father's favourite shoe box, unaware of the adult content within.

"We shut down machines, break Fans!" the Vorcha yelled triumphantly, turning to face Shepard once more. Shepard held his finger tense, not quite shooting. He wanted to hear what the damn thing before him had to say and he would not shoot the Vorcha in the back of the skull, it was distasteful for a commander.

"Everyone choke and die! Then Collectors make us strong!" the Vorcha continued. At the mention of Collectors Shepard's whole body tensed. His vision became red, as if a flag was been waved before a bull. He wanted nothing more than to crush the Vorcha with his bare hands, and then the entire squad and any reinforcements that dare arrive to get in his way. Shaun however had vanished into the shadows, obviously looking for a better position to shoot from.

"I've had enough of this!" Shepard spoke in an authoritative tone as he clicked his gun again, for show mostly but also to activate his ammo. He decided against going rough, the Vorcha would have to deal with lower quality bullets in their brains. Considering their intelligence he didn't believe they would be overly offended.

"AHHH!" The Vorcha growled, throwing its head back as it roared. Just as Shepard was about to shoot it begun talking again. He wondered if the thing knew the meaning of 'shut up' but doubted it, so he opted for silence.

"Collectors want plague! You work for doctor, turn on machines, put cure in air. We kill you first!"

…

"Please… I'm telling you the truth. I work for Mordin at the clinic. I came here to help you" A man's voice rung. Shell ducked behind a shelf, staring as the Baterian almost lifted the whimpering man off his feet. She could have done better, but a blinding rage urged her not to. She wanted to help the man and slaughter these bullies. She understood fear however, and her brother would spare them. With a silent sigh she agreed with his logic, there was no use in killing good men over fear.

"We know you're spreading the plague virus. We saw the vials in your bag" the Baterian sounded almost bored. Shell huffed to herself, amazed no one heard. Vials could contain lots of things and it would be easier to put the virus in the Environmental Controls. She quickly leapt to a conclusion, that's the way she should head. They had died a few minutes ago, maybe to stop a cure or to kill everyone on the level. It didn't matter to her; she wanted and needed to help. Not to mention if she could kill something she would be very happy.

"No! Those vials contain the cure. Please… you have to believe me" The man pleaded. This drew Shell's attention. He pleaded for them despite they would kill him. Now she was determined to save him from these brutes. In the same position she would not have given two shits about her captors, only herself.

"Maybe we should cut off your fingers that'll loosen…" The Baterian started. When Shell heard the first part of the sentence she stepped into view, allowing her biotics to flare ferociously. Screw her brother's logic; she would butcher these maniacs if they laid a finger on the poor man.

"Look out!" A second Baterian cried. Shell took stock of the room. There were three Baterians in the apartment. There was a bed, a wall separating it from a lounge and kitchen. Small yet efficient.

"She's just a little girl" The third laughed.

"She's a biotic, idiot!" the second snapped. Shell scoffed a laugh, this one was smart, didn't belong with idiot scumbags. Her eyes flicked to the first once more, who held a gun pointed at his hostage. The other Baterians drew their guns by then, assault rifles, and pointed them at Shell. She almost laughed. She doubted they knew how to handle a biotic, especially one as deranged as her. She didn't bother with her own guns, her hands were already fisted and powers ready to throw the weapons aside and raise shields.

"Don't move! One more step and we kill your friend" The first growled. Shell paused, her fury suddenly subdued by the fear she saw in their faces, their many eyes. She calmed herself visibly, letting her biotics intensity diminish enough for the visual effect alone.

"Vorcha are immune. Why would he come here to spread this plague? I know you're scared of the plague, and the Vorcha… but this man isn't to blame. He could be you; humans are immune to the disease but not the unrest. There is no benefit for us in continuing it" Shell paused, lifting her hands ready to attack but making the gesture look friendly. She silently hoped violence wouldn't be required but her body craved it. Her muscles sung and her brain begged for the chance to cause pain, to kill. To do what she was made to do… but she refused herself the pleasure and later guilt.

"She's right… about the plague. It doesn't make sense" The second spoke up again, his eyes wiser than his companion's. Shell gave him a quick smile before she continued on.

"If you let him go I will return the favour. You have my word. I doubt you know how to deal with a combat made biotic, and trust me when I say, you do not want to find out the hard way"

"Let him go" The leader lowered his pistol, his men followed suit. He turned to look at Shell, who was still glowing. She couldn't hold her powers back as they lashed the shelf, then pulled the human to her side.

"You got what you wanted! Are we free to go?" She was unsure which one spoke but she nodded.

"No sudden movements, I'm a jumpy woman" she replied, looking down. Her eyes darted, corners catching the movements. She clamped her eyes shut, desperate to hold back a few seconds longer.

"Thank you. If you hadn…" the human started.

"Get back to Mordin" Shell replied shortly, already moving for her destination. She had to release her energy somehow.

…

Shepard was about to pull the trigger when a blue glow emanated from behind him. He winced as the doors opened and Shell walked in. She appeared like a demon, wisps of blue rolling from her body as she strode into the room either oblivious or uncaring about the guns pointed at her.

"You got die right" Shell grinned, bringing a fist before her as she sent a shockwave blasting through the enemy. Vorcha flew left and right, in some cases Vorcha went one way and their arm went the other. The room was lit in a brilliant glow of blue from Shell's shockwave; she didn't stop with one blast. She fired more off at the enemy, almost blindly.

"Shell, go left. I'll go right" Shepard called, already moving towards the right as Shell sent another blast rip through the enemy. Shepard wasn't sure if his words got through to the biotic so he ran, gun in hand as he charged forwards.

One. Two. He shot a Vorcha down with a bullet to the gut then head. The recoil from his gun was almost non-existent in his hands as he charged. He leapt over the body, ducking a swing from a second Vorcha. He thoughtlessly threw the butt of his gun up into the chin of his opponent, effortlessly snapping a neck as he rolled sideways into cover. Flames claimed the two bodies he had dropped as his back connected with the cold concrete of a supporting pillar. It was wide enough to offer cover from the flames. He winced as he turned his head around the pillar, looking into the new burst of flames approaching him. He was able to duck back behind cover with a few select curses under his breath. He closed his eyes and clutched his gun tighter. He really hoped someone would distract that Flamethrower. When he saw more flames pass him he groaned. He was obviously alone at the present.

"Shit"

…..

Shaun strode with purpose, sticking to shadows as he drew a knife. He didn't want to use his gun in such close quarters. He was above the battle, stalking to a position he could see the whole field. Two Vorcha blocked his way, or more tried to share his space. The creatures stunk like a bog; it was a miracle Shaun didn't collapse gagging. He held his breath as he thrust his dagger into the hamstring of the first; he then stood up and gripped its head between his hands. Without waiting he pushed, snapping its neck both ways swiftly. It dropped down dead as the second pointed its rocket launcher at Shaun. He ducked the fired rocket and rolled, using his body like a giant sausage to sweep the feet from the Vorcha. It fell with a scream, where Shaun pushed his body forwards from lying flat on his belly, the knife in his eager fist. The knife punctured the creatures chest before he lifted his fist and spun the knife in his palm before thrusting forwards, driving the blade between the jawbone beneath the Vorcha's chin. It gargled on its own blood as it died, unable to draw breath through the severed windpipe that Shaun had attended to after a quick jab.

"Done" he whispered self approvingly as he rose to his feet. He turned to view the littered battle field before he drew his gun, admiring it as it unpacked ready for instant use. He lowered to his knee and checked the scope, calculating the next strike. He winced as he saw flames bellowing down Shepard's side. He saw his boss turn and duck behind cover, then he saw the three flame throwers approaching.

He focused on the white tank of the middle one as he let his left hand work and edit the scope, fixing the zoom at the perfect level. With a inhale he let his heart slow down, more drugs from his youth aiding his cause, and focused his gaze. His eye never touched the scope, but he was close enough. Finally he found a weak point on the tank above a screw. With a flick of his hand he changed his ammo to burning then lined his shot once more. Preying silently he finally pulled the trigger, which offered no resistance. The explosion of tanks was a ballad to his skill.

He was busy rewarding himself when a flash entered his vision from his sister's side. Without thinking he eyed the scope and aimed, when white entered the scope he pulled the trigger to be rewarded with another mini explosion. Shooting Flame Throwers was getting a little too fun.

…

She almost felt sorry for the hopeless Krogan that charged at her. Shell stepped to her side and brought her hand down as a chop on the Krogan's back. Reinforced with her biotics her hand cut into the armor with ease and left the Krogan screaming in pain. She picked up its gun and poked him in the throat. She shook her head before she pulled the trigger, unprepared for the blowback.

"Ah! Fucking hell!" She screamed, feeling her broken arm beneath her armor. The pain was so sharp and intense she believed she had been impaled by thousands of knives, deeper than any self-inflicted gash could be. She looked down, only to wish she hadn't. Her armor had also broken, and was now piercing her skin. Blood flowed freely down her armor, staining its usually pleasant colour with a dark reddish brown; another side effect from childhood was her somewhat off coloured blood. She was positive she would spend the night in sickbay by the looks of her arm, but that didn't bother her now as she continued on, blasting enemies aside with her left arm. Her progress was not halted, only slowed. She was one determined bitch.

She stepped left, throwing a flame thrower over the edge towards the middle. The mid-air explosion was enough to make her smile. Her brother was perfect with his aim, especially on instinct. She continued walking towards the final enemies. She flicked her wrist and threw a Vorcha into the wall, headfirst. There was a snap as its neck broke along with several other bones in its now dead body.

She then threw her hand the opposite way, flicking her wrist up and down. The Krogan went bouncing like an oversized basketball into her brother's line of sight. The sudden absence of the Krogan's head let her know that Shaun had blasted its head clean off, the perfect headshot with exploding rounds.

She finally pushed her arm forwards, closing her fist as if griping the final Vorcha. With a moments pause to think she twisted her wrist so her thumb and fingers which were curled into her palm faced upwards. She simultaneously pulled her arm in until her elbow was at her side, a reverse punch. The Vorcha flew at her straight into her fist; she had activated her omni tool blade which now poked from between the Vorcha's shoulders. She winced as she saw the white tank, tossing the enemy aside she launched forwards with her biotics, then turned and put a field around the tank. The explosion was contained within her field, but her nose bled from the effort of containing such a force.

"Ah" she groaned and fell to her knees for a moment, breathing heavily. When she managed to stand she turned and walked directly to her fan, aware Shepard was already at his. She didn't know the controls so she hit random buttons, watching in dismay as lights flashed. Eventually the fan turned on once more, and breathing became easier. It was finally done.

…

"Environmental systems engaged. Airborne viral levels dropping. Patients improving. Vorcha retreating. Well done Shepard, thank you" Mordin started at his computer but walked to another as he spoke. Shepard stood calmly with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face which he had adopted to scare the man into silence. Shell had told him of her dealings, but she refused to let him go kill them. The argument that had followed led the man to call Shepard a monster. He had no idea how appropriate that title was, and Shepard knew it.

"Professor, how can you thank this monster? He wants to go butcher the Baterians in cold blood!" The assistant spoke up. Shepard growled in the back of his throat.

"You little weasel; my crewwoman risked her life to save you. Hell, I saved this whole district and you believe yourself worthy to judge me? Show some respect, worm!" Shepard spoke in a steady, disapproving tone. He let himself snap the final line, smirking at the jump he earned from the little man trying to shape up to him.

"Shepard's right. Baterians tortured you. Would have killed you. Right to kill them. Foolish mistake to let them go. Would have killed them" Mordin informed. The assistant looked horrified.

"But you're a doctor, you believe in helping people"

"Lots of ways to help. Treat patient. Kill bad person. Either way helps. Think about what I've said"

…

"Shepard, what can I do for you?" Miranda asked in a professional tone. She sat at her computer in a spinning seat. Her desk faced the door, with a bed in the far corner and couches surrounding a wall and corner. One large chair sat facing the window. Don took stock of her neat, somewhat bland quarters quickly. He wanted to be polite, but the words slipped out.

"All work and no play makes Miranda a dull girl" he instantly regretted his words as Miranda's eyes narrowed. He gulped involuntarily at the harsh look he received from the raven haired beauty. He once again found his jaw slack as he stared, he couldn't help it nor did he want to. Miranda was stunning, flawless and dangerous. She was tits and ass with brains and a pretty face, deadly biotic powers and good aim with a pistol. She was every man's dream, and Don was a man. Naturally with a dream woman he had to screw it up with taunting.

"Is there something you wanted, Shepard?" She demanded in a professional tone again, yet Don picked the anger in her voice. For such a beautiful woman she didn't handle taunting very well, and she didn't know humour if it smacked her in the face. She just smacked it back. Another hot factor about Miranda, unfortunately for Don it was an impossibility to remain serious. Slim were his chances on looks alone, once he opened his mouth he was absolutely fucked.

"Please, call me Don. And yes, actually. What exactly are your duties besides keeping your eye on me?" Don asked calmly. He stood cross armed before her without been hostile.

"A painful task in itself. I'm the Illusive Man's agent, your brother and you are his most important assets. It's my duty to make sure you succeed. Aside from that… I send regular reports to the Illusive man, updating our status" Miranda spoke with a straight face as Don laughed, agreeing with Miranda's remark of pain involving him. He knew he was a pain in the ass to a professional such as herself, but heck if he would stop being himself on her account. She would just have to get over it or they would have to find the middle ground.

"All jokes aside lass; do you have a wee little minute?" Don asked, allowing himself to become serious. It was hard work to keep himself appearing serious.

"No doubt you have a lot of questions. Cerberus isn't as evil as everyone thinks. If I can do anything to allay your concerns I would be happy to do so"

"What is Cerberus? Are you military or political… or both?" Don couldn't help ask. His curiosity was always a hard beast to feed at times, and now a free for all meal was put before him. Really he just wanted to hear Miranda talking in that sexy Australian accent with the passion she had when she spoke of Cerberus.

"Cerberus has several divisions. Political, military, scientific. But we're all working towards the same goal. The teams you encountered before your… accident, were mostly part of our military division. Not all Cerberus divisions follow the same protocol. We try to avoid getting bogged down in bureaucracy and formality"

"What about funding? What resources does Cerberus have?" Don was genuinely curious now. Miranda's answers were honest, her eyes alive with passion and her voice alive with belief. It only made her more beautiful in her surety.

"We're very well-funded, although I doubt anyone other than the Illusive Man knows exactly how well. But our resources aren't unlimited. Reviving your brother and you and rebuilding the Normandy was a significant investment. And a significant risk. We're all hoping you can do the impossible. No pressure" she grinned on her final words as Don tilted his head.

"Oh, no pressure at all. I'm sure Shepard would say it's no trouble, me, I admit it's going to be hell… balls, why is it always 'Shepard help us' or 'Shepard save the Galaxy… again' is it our charming smiles or something?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out" Miranda deflected calmly. Don chuckled loudly as he watched Miranda type on her computer, as if oblivious to his presence. She was efficient at her work, Don gave her that. He wanted to know more however, no one was a serious workaholic like Miranda without something going terribly wrong. Or a life time of training.

"Here's 'oping. So, tell me a little about yourself Miranda" he let the words come out softer than he had intended, but the look of shock in Miranda's eyes betrayed her stone expression. She smiled slightly, almost shyly as she began.

"I guess that's fair. I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to know about you" She rose from her chair and put a data pad in the corner. Her voice sounded almost cheerful to Don. She froze for but a moment in though before she continued, her voice now that professional blank once again.

"Well, you should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification. Not my decision, but I make the most of it" Miranda turned to face Don, her expression was somewhat hurt even though she kept a smile. Don made note of that little bit of pain he saw, promising to find out more later on. It was also leverage in the fights they would undoubtedly get into, although even he admitted it was a low blow. Miranda was strange in the fact she didn't lean against the low shelves supplied, she just stood tall and proud with arms held in a relaxed crossed position over her upper stomach.

"It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at anything I choose to do" she informed so casually that it took Don aback. He stared for a moment, knowing his eyes were almost bulging at her confidence and bluntness.

"Well, you most certainly are confident, I'll give you that"

"It's just a fact. My reflexes, my strength, even my looks, they're all designed to give me an edge. No point in hiding from it. It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most dangerous, risky, and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes. And it's the reason I was assigned to your brother and you. It's my job to make sure you succeed" Miranda shifted her hand to her hip calmly, resting her fingers against the belt she wore that went on a diagonal from above her hip to bellow, designed to hold her pistol when weapons were allowed. It also looked incredibly good on her, the whole white cat suit with black arms and over the knee, high heel boots really made Miranda look good. She had every right to be cocky.

"What level of modification are we talkin' here?" Don asked, lowering himself into the seat before her desk. He allowed Miranda to have the advantage over him, it made her feel better. Don wasn't about to antagonise her further when she was giving valuable information that could choose what missions she was taken on or not.

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in many ways. I heal faster and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human. My biotic abilities are also very advanced… for a human. Add to that some of the best training and education money can buy and, well it's pretty impressive, really"

"You were designed to be perfect?" Don questioned, although he knew the answer he wanted to hear Miranda confirm or deny her breeding. He guessed she was hurt by how much she had been changed from who she was, he himself had appearance modification and DNA to make him seem like Shepard's biological brother. He was adopted however, and a witness protection child. He understood the dislike of what had been done, though he was long over it.

"Maybe, but I'm not. I'm still human, Don. I make mistakes like everyone else. And when I do the consequences are severe. Everyone expects a lot from someone with my… abilities" Miranda informed, the latter part of her explanation sounded sad, her tone dropped as did her gaze. She stared down at her boots, frowning slightly. Don wondered how to be comforting without sounding cocky himself or screwing it up.

"Everyone makes mistakes, that's what a crew is for in my opinion. When I make a mistake I know there are others there to pick me up, and catch my mistake before it goes viral. Thanks for the information Miranda, we'll talk later" he finished seriously before he rose from his chair, gazing at the beautiful woman for a moment longer than he should have. Her expression hardened again as she sat down at her work station once more.

"Of course, Commander, whatever you need" were the last words he heard from her before the doors swished shut.

…..

"We've done all we can for Garrus, but he took a bad hit" Jacob started, leaning into the table on his hands. Shepard mirrored him across the table with a frown. He let his head drop as guilt overpowering his pride for a moment. He should have been there, then Garrus wouldn't have taken the hit. He sent two unknowns and his brother to retrieve Garrus, not knowing their skills or their situation. It was his fault.

"The docs corrected with surgical procedures and some cybernetics. Best we can tell he'll have full functionality, but…" Jacob was cut off by the doors swishing open. Shepard couldn't help let a smile show when Garrus walked in, tall and proud in his abused armor.

"Shepard" Garrus acknowledged calmly. His face down the entire blasted side was scarred, a horrid pink against his skin colour. Shepard and Jacob chuckled, Shepard in amusement and Jacob in disbelief.

"Tough son of a bitch. Didn't think he'd be up yet" Jacob voiced his shock. Shepard shook his head and let a mock scowl appear on his face, mimicking Dr Chakwas.

"He shouldn't be" Shepard scolded, but the amusement in his tone betrayed him. He and Garrus had both been the criminal patients on the Normandy SR1, escaping sickbay ASAP. Shepard and Garrus covered for each other even when the vengeful little doctor hunted them down, pulling Shepard by the ear more often than not. Garrus laughed at the fond memory then groaned.

"Don't make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as it is" he informed. Shepard shook his head, not mentioning his brother standing behind Garrus with a michevious glow in his smile.

"Hell Garrus, you were always fugly. Slap some paint on it and no one will notice" he slapped Garrus on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. The Turian also laughed as Shepard smiled. Jacob looked utterly uncomfortable as Garrus continued.

"Aww well, women were always ignoring you and hitting on me. Maybe now you boys will have a chance"

"Time of the lads!" Don called jokingly, before he chuckled. It felt good to laugh again with old friends.

"Commander. We've reached the Purgatory. Subject Zero awaits"