PATCHWORK GIRL
AGNUS DEI
Jack's Story
When Shepard requires a tattoo artist for multiple sessions, Jack finds herself stitching together the commander's unspoken history.
Rain pounded her head. A deep rhythmic rumbling that tapped against her ear drum in a steady, level staccato. Flump thrump thrump thrump... The rain hit fanned leaves, tapping that deep green leather before sliding down a spiny vein five stories below. Flump thrump thrump thrump. Jack knew that sound, though never so clear. It was always muffled, in her memories and in her nightmares.
Little has changed since the escape.
Jack stepped across the hard, milky white tiles. Thick leather boots pounded across the decayed floor. It looked so, so familiar... but also very, very different. The rough outlines of her past created the skeleton of the present. Sure, the factory was familiar to Jack, but her memories had to fill in the gaps created by neglect and age.
Plants peeked through the cracks in the floor's tiling, fresh green poking past the dirt. Time ignored the artificiality of the present. It grew and changed this ugly place. One day Cerberus would die. One day Jack would die. One day Pragia would dry up, unable to sustain its own mutant plantation. And, perhaps, one day a neighboring planet in the system would bloom with life, thanks to seeds and pollen drifting in space millions of years between Pragia and it.
Perhaps, one day, the Reapers will swallow them all in this cycle, allowing Pragia's neighbor to grow and defend itself against the next invasion billions of years from now.
"... It smells like rotting meat..."
And maybe, just maybe, the cheerleader would shut her fucking trap before Jack buried her fist deep between her molars.
Jack barely slept the night before, tossing and turning, gnawing on her lower lip before blurring her senses in flashes between bottles of Ryncol. Expensive drinks were one of many shitty side effects produced by Cerberus's biotic experiments. It took a lot to medically fuck with Jack's mental state. Drell intoxicants, hanar hallucinogens, even krogan 'mercy' drinks barely knocked her out longer than half an hour. Wonderful thing to deal with, really. Constant sobriety. So there Jack was, drowning in bottle after bottle of Ryncol, passing out between moments of self-medication in a cold sweat.
Pragia. Pragia. Pragia.
She repeated it between bottles, until the word tricked her brain. Pragia, Pragia, Pragia. She'd say it, her tongue sounding out each word, the tip of it still between her teeth as the word flattened the back of her mouth. Pra. Her lips pulled back, and she hissed between her teeth. Gi. Mouth rounded as the last air expelled from between her lungs. A. Pra. Gi. A. Pra. Gi. A. Pra. Gi. A. Pra. Gi. A.
The night was woven with Jack's slurred whispers.
After a quick fitness test (Jack completed 187 pull ups, 212 push ups, and passed out briefly before speeding through 115 burpees), the woman took a scalding shower that pricked her skin red. She shaved, sharp razor cutting back the hair that emerged across the surface of her scalp. She preferred shaving to washing her hair. Some people shined their armor or cleaned their guns before war - Jack found shelter in shaving. It was methodical and simple, predictable preparation. Call it comforting.
Less comforting when she regarded her reflection one last time, only to find Shepard's flashing grey eyes staring from behind.
I hate you. Jack wanted to say. I fucking hate you. I hate you so much.
"Make up your mind yet?" Shepard inquired, arms crossed.
Why the fuck are you asking me that? You know the answer, you fucking bitch. You know it. You fucking know it.
Jack stuck a toothbrush between her lips and proceeded to lather her teeth with fluoride, glaring at Shepard's bored reflection.
The commander nodded, "Wonderful."
You knew I would say yes. So why are you here? Why the fuck are you here? Why are you fucking here...?
Shepard stepped away, grey gaze boring across Jack's face, studying, reading, observing, fucking predicting her every action. Shepard wasn't just a feline stalking her prey... she was a whole fucking pride of lions circling around a sick gazelle. Jack felt outnumbered, exploited, and overpowered.
"When you are ready to take off, report to Miranda Lawson."
"No thanks," Jack spat. "I'll just show up at the bridge and tell you when I'm ready." I know where you fucking sleep, you bitch.
Shepard smiled.
The fuck... The fuck, why is she smiling...? What the fuck am I missing...?! What the hell did I miss...?!
"You misunderstand," the woman corrected, shifting her weight to the other hip as she continued to regard Jack's reflection. "Miranda will be joining us."
Jack's fingers curled around the reinforced sink, teeth grinding and muscles twitching as the sharp edges peeled back the skin between her palms. She breathed evenly. Shepard wanted Jack to lose her temper. She wanted the woman to lose her cool. It showed the lion just how weak and easily manipulated the gazelle really was. "... Why." Jack managed between grit teeth. "Why are you doing this?"
Shepard stepped out of the communal bathroom instead of answering. Shepard walked away.
Bitch always walked away.
"... This stench is abysmal..." Miranda winced, holstering her handcanon.
"It's a fucking garden planet, princess. Of course it smells like garbage," Jack groaned, choosing to insult Miranda's lack of insight and not shoving her knuckles through the woman's buckteeth. "Any other brilliant observations you'd like to bitch about, or can you shut the fuck up and let me process."
"Fine," Miranda replied. "Process and let's get out of here..."
The ex-convict rolled her eyes and snarled, concentrating on the rain beating down on exposed flesh as she studied her surroundings in disconnect.
Jack had never experienced religious ecstasy before. She always wanted to, always tried to explore the emotions of awe, piety, and crushing agape that missionaries fervently described. Jack tried, she really did. But no level of prayer, meditation, sacrifice or offering could budge her anchored cynicism. The woman's absolute apprehension of people and organizations helped her survive, kept her alive, kept her going. Jack was used to dismissing people. She was used to dismissing groups of people. She dismissed cities of people, planets of people, even whole nations of people. She tried religion. Lots of different religions. And she dismissed them all.
Jack could not dismiss Pragia. Jack could not ignore the abandoned facility. It was all there. In her mind, in her heart, in her thoughts, under her feet, in front of her eyes, all around her. It was there, all of it. The scar that shaped her into being Jack. Subject Zero. Jacqueline Nought. The convict. Number 24601. Delpherra.
Religious ecstasy was scary.
Her mind drew blanks. And soon there was only the sound of rain and her mind rattling off the same word over and over again.
Fuck fuck fuck... Fuck fuck fuck...
"You done taking your shower now that you're at mommy and daddy's place for Christmas?"
Jack shook off the spell, the voice in her head hushed by the storm's beating and Shepard's wry voice. The biotic sneered, tilting her head down and turning on one foot to shoot a loathing glare at Commander Bitch. Jack's hatred ballooned when she realized Shepard had cloaked herself, followed by the bloom of confusion.
"You realize that your optical camouflage doesn't work during typhoon season... Right...?" Jack pointed out, fingers outlining the air where invisible-Shepard was. Cloaking devices suck during storms. The rain bounced off the commander, tracing the contours of her body and armor, giving shape to air. Shepard was pretty damn visible, light bending the rain around her. She looked akin to an ice sculpture. A very lifelike ice sculpture.
"And you realize that we've been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for you to lead this fucking party?," The not-quite-invisible-Shepard snapped. "I'm getting BORED, Jack. I don't like being bored."
"Bored?" Miranda started, inquisitively tilting her head. "I just got through describing how we managed to resurrect you from being a charred pile of rock two years after you died."
"Yeah yeah yeah yeah..." Shepard's outline muttered, rolling her shoulders with a pop. "I get it, I get it. You finally got enough money to properly emulate immortality. I know, super cool, you did it Miranda." The 'invisible' hands raised, mock cheering. "Yaay. Now, instead of your name going down in the primary codex about how you were the pioneer of singularity, everyone will remember your boss. Because, you know, he provided the funds. And whatever you make here belongs to him. You know, it's funny how history does that. Turn around and give credit to the totally wrong guy who just happened to have a fuck ton of money. I guess cash can buy you a place in the galaxy's permanent record of important shit..."
"...Excuse me...?"
"... Singularity..." Miranda swallowed.
"Uhm... Ex-cuuuse me?"
"... Yeah, Singularity. Finding the fountain of youth is just one short trip to merging with our tools. God knows I'm the poster child of synthesis. I have enough machines in me to make me... well... a machine, I guess," Shepard muttered.
Miranda rolled her eyes, "I thought we've been over this, Shepard. You are as much a machine as Tali is a geth. You aren't one. However, there were certain holes in your DNA code, and I had to fill in those gaps..."
"Ladies. Hellooo? Ex-cuuuuuse me!"
Shepard cocked a brow at Miranda, arms crossed under her breasts. "I'm 400 pounds, Miranda. That's a really big gap."
"And now you can knock your head into a krogan without cracking your head open," Lawson sighed, weaving her hand in the air. "I fail to see the problem Shepard."
"Ex-CUUUUSE ME LADIES. THIS IS MY FUCKING MOMENT."
Badly Cloaked Shepard and the Cerberus Princess turned simultaneously to regard a heaving, teeth gritting, shoulder rounded Jack. The electricity bounced off her, black energy swirling through her, past her mind. Jack swallowed it back. She wasn't about to let these two fucktards ruin the stage.
Miranda predictably rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and fixed an icy stare on Jack, "Alright, then what are our instructions, Jack?"
"We go in. I will lead your asses, and you will listen to me bitch, moan, be angry and possibly tear a few things apart as we kick around in a Cerberus facility."
"Abandoned facility," Miranda corrected. "This facility went rogue, the Illusive Man had nothing to do with that."
"See, and there's the punch line," Shepard mused, "Project Lazarus... He'll totally take credit for that in history. Project Zero, though? Just a rogue branch, unrelated, in it for themselves, was off studying biotic potential and fucked it all up. Money, man. Have enough of it, and you can just alter the way people see you for all eternity."
Miranda sighed, exasperated by the never-ending argument, "I... am just sayi-"
"I.. I... I... Am j-j-j-just saying what, Lawson?" Shepard mocked.
Brunette Barbie straightened, "Remember that if it weren't for the Illusive Man, you would be dead, and we would soon follow when the reapers arrive."
"Just drop the daddy issues already," the commander interrupted. "What the fuck is up with all my crew members and their goddamn father issues? You, Tali, Garrus, Jacob... fuck, even Liara back on the SR1 had 'father' problems. Stop defending Mr. Illusive. He's an asshole."
"The Illusive Man is not resp-"
"Lawson," Shepard snapped. "He. Is. An. Asshole. For fuck's sake... he doesn't see you as his fucking daughter. You're just the bitch who put me together. I'm supposed to be daddy's little girl. You were just the surrogate."
Miranda narrowed her eyes, "If it weren't for this surrogate, you'd still be a block of charred rock, Shepard."
"I know. That's why I don't understand why you are letting daddy dearest take all the future accolades. Either you are dumb or just really, really, really humble."
"Hey. Weirdo and cheerleader," Jack interrupted, waving her hand between the tense subjects. "How about we shut our traps, plant the bomb, and get the fuck off this planet?"
"Excellent idea," Shepard trotted, stepping into the building with a bit of a bounce to her step. She continued to wear the optical armor. It was more than a little weird.
Miranda, however, gated slowly behind, pushing back her soaked hair behind her ears, "For once, we agree."
Jack sighed, shaking her head and moving forward. "Fine... Let's just get this done with."
The team's structure was loose and undisciplined, reflecting the team leader's own conflicted state of mind and the chaotic storm that swept the neglected building. Glass, plaster, and roots crunched under Jack's boots, the sound satisfying in its unfamiliarity as she stepped over the threshold and into the facility. Subject Zero shivered in greeting. Her former prison groaned in welcome.
Jack unconsciously raised hand, pinching the long scars that slithered across her arm in a single sweep. Jack's first tattoos. The scars where they poisoned her with eezo. They cut her surgically, small scalpal drawing over her skin like butter. In hindsight, it was a strange dream. They numbed her flesh with painkillers and surface tranquilizers. The blade bit through her skin like butter, blood spilling and painting her pale skin a beautiful shade of red. The doctors explained to her that they were only drawing on her skin, doodling with a knife. Making her more beautiful.
And then they made her bathe in raw eezo.
Jack traced the scar with one black nail as she moved through the halls, eyes grazing empty cargo boxes across the transport bridge.
"... They used those to bring in the kids," She explained.
Miranda frowned, "Disgusting..."
"Yeah? Why dontcha talk to your employer about it? He's the one who handed them the money to buy kids with."
Princess rolled her eyes, "Are you daft or simply stupid? This facility went rogue. The Illusive Man is not responsible."
"No..." Jack muttered, "But his money sure the fuck is."
Before the Cerberus Cheerleader could protect, Jack spun on her heel and stalked deeper into the past. Treading through the halls cleared an obscured perception of her past. Little by little, Jack snipped away at the patchy quilt of nightmares, clarity replacing confusion and uncertainty. One of her first memories never involved a crate. She was small enough to still fit in a sink, and she remembered the sunlight pouring through the window as a woman delicately scrubbed her skin. She remembered the goldfish spinning in its little bowl, black eye peering at her, and she stared back, enchanted.
Jack remembered safety and trust, fleeting as it was. But even the evils in Pandora's box crowded hope out. Jack clung to that memory, but the spark fell as she drowned in the horrors of her later childhood.
"Someone's here," Shepard announced.
The artist slid one hand back fluidly, snatching the shotgun from the small magnetic field that attached it to her back. The Eviscerator unsnapped, barrel jutting forward as serrated metal plates popped into place. Brown eyes investigate the field, before regarding wet tracks across the ground, leaving a trail of water from the cargo bridge to the facility's innards. "Probably just a varren..."
"Varren don't use clips against other varren, Jack," The commander stated.
Jack raised a thin brow, brown eyes following after the small river trail before catching a sinewy, slack-jawed dead animal laying in a pool of its own blood, fur matted and singed where energy bursts seared its neck and back. Subject zero pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, "This is bullshit. No one should be here. There's nothing to scavage, just some shitty memorie- Shepard, seriously. Why the fuck are you still cloaked?"
The water glistened off Shepard's body. The ice sculpture was melting away, leaving behind invisible pools that were slowly swallowing the commander's form. Silence answered Jack's question.
What was she doing? What was the bitch doing? If Jack had learned anything from working with Shepard, it was that Shepard didn't do shit unless she had a reason. Yeah, Shepard was weird... but she was also dangerous. Manipulative. Cruel. The commander got her way by mind fucking people, sealing their loyalty by breaking them utterly.
Jack knew this. She knew this because she saw it. And what Jack didn't witness, Kasumi filled in. The thief may have been a nosy little kleptomaniac but her true craftsmanship lied in her ability to gather and dispense gossip.
Kasumi and Jack exchanged information and bumped heads, trying to make sense of their discoveries. Kasumi was enthralled as they pieced together Shepard's character. Jack, however, recognized just how dangerous Shepard really was. The commander no longer fascinated Jack. She frightened her.
Since the mission's start, each Normandy specialist requested Shepard's help or were directly confronted; each Normandy specialist returned from these personal missions completely changed... Jack wasn't sure if they were changed due to some dying wish-fulfillment or changed because of the commander's mind torture. A few words, and Jacob shot his father. A single action, and Urdnot Wrex watched his people nearly dissolve into utter civil war. Hell, Shepard didn't even say or do anything to Mordin, and her inaction shook the old salarian's stout beliefs.
Jack's eyes widened as she measured the lioness, cloaked by shadows, tongue clucking to the rain's beat. Tut. Tut tut. Tut. Subject zero paled.
Shepard was hunting her. She could feel her. Her silence, her eyes... The ex-convict measured her, biting her lower lip as the mirrored reflection rippled, glitching briefly as it adjusted to the interior of the facility. The commander's waterproof armor was drying quickly, water residue evaporating despite the lack of clear sunlight. Before long, the infiltrator disappeared. Squint hard enough and Jack could still faintly see her outline... before she moved and utterly disappeared from her peripheral.
The tigress stalked her, stripes blending against the crumbling, yellowing laboratory walls once immaculately scrubbed... smelling of lemon zest and disinfectant, highlighting the sharp tang of blood, guts, and shit that painted the walls all the colors of freedom.
Freedom. Overwhelming freedom. Her scars pricked when she remembered running into the Cerberus transport, pubescent and tasting freedom. Rebellious teenager from the beginning, running away from the people who created her, into the safety of herself.
I will never let anyone hurt me again.
Snap!
"Jack."
Subject Zero stirred, pupils dilating in wake. Mahogany eyes focused on Miranda who walked around her in a smooth circle. The Cerberus officer's index finger was posed across her thumb. The bitch actually had the nerve to snap her fingers. Deep red lips parted, white teeth glinting, muscles flexing into a round.
"Are you done with your reminiscing or can we plant the bomb and leave?" Lawson cocked her head, emphasizing the point by raising a large, hard-shelled case that contained the heavy explosives with her left arm.
"Awww, what's the matter? Don't have someone to carry your luggage for you, princess?"
Miranda narrowed her eyes, rolling her shoulder, "If I realized you would misplace my skills to be your busboy, I would have brought an omni visor."
"So you can turn down all those iPartner requests piling up in your inbox instead of learning how to survive without depending on your tits and ass?" Jack retorted.
"No. So that I may actually do something worthy of my time," the XO's weight shifted right to left, hips moving and hair brushed immaculately over her shoulder as the rain dried. What the fuck kind of product did cheerleader put in her hair? She'd heard of waterproof cosmetics, but... holy shit. Miranda had to fucking pay a fortune for whatever shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray she was using.
"Like bitching to daddy about the class field trip?" Jack stated.
"No," Lawson curtly replied. "Wondering what intern's idea it was to add you to the Omega-4 dossier list. I want to hunt him down and assure he never finds work here or anywhere else as punishment for his sheer lack of insight and stupidity."
Jack sneered, flashing gums and teeth at the bitch. Rolling with krogan for a week really stuck with her. "Jealous? That I didn't have to suck daddy's cock to be recognized?"
Miranda's glare turned poison, her voice level as it recited venom. "Hardly. Even a moron can do simple background checks. You are not qualifying material for the Omega-4 relay mission."
"The fuck I am!" The firecracker snapped, jutting one finger out as she drew closer to Miranda, teeth glinting and lips curled, "and your 'daddy' knows it. The Illusive Man made me. He knows exactly what I can do. He knows I have nothing to lose and that I am one of the scariest all-powerful bitches outside and inside the Terminus systems. And he knows no one will miss me if I don't come back. I'm the perfect bomb, bitch."
"Hardly," Miranda corrected, waving her hand, "Bombs go off when you want them to, not when they feel like it."
Jack shoved her foot closer, rubber boots squeaking against wet, cracked tiles. She glared up at Miranda, breathing aggressively enough to push back wisps of hair framing Lawson's pale face. "Care to elaborate, your higness."
"I don't have to. You are a liability. You can't even lead a team of two professionals into an abandoned facility to plant a bomb without causing issue, let alone following orders on or off duty," Dark lashes framed aquamarine eyes, the words callously dropping one after another. "You were a mistake. You are still a mistake. And I will not allow you to-"
Bang. KAPOOOW.
The floor shifted under Jack's feet, throwing the woman off her feet and right on her ass. Miranda also lost her balance, toppling over the twist of her ankle. Lawson cursed, bitching about her sprain as the wildcard remained rattled, confused and clouded. The cheerleader was the first to act, blinking back at Jack. "... Where's the commander...?"
The ex-convict blinked, throwing her weight back onto her shoulders and pushing her entire body into the air before feet hit the ground She scanned the room, noting the dead varren, the pissed off princess, and the distinct lack of Commander Shepard.
Jack and Miranda's tense stare transformed into mutual concern.
"Shit," Jack said, accelerating from run to full on sprint as she spiraled towards the sound of explosives.
Bang. Bang bang. PA-KOOOOOOW!
Jack readied herself for the blast, braced against the wall as the seismic waves rippled the ground. A series of windows cracked and shattered, sliding doors detached and broken, flung hotly across the hall and into the ceiling before slamming into the floor with a bang.
"Commander, status report! I need a status report!" Jack heard Miranda yell into the comm.
The biotic burst through the open door, knocking back rubble and dust as she threw wave after wave of dark energy like a bowling ball, spitting it forward and clearing a path. It was... oddly nostalgic. The memory of energy splitting her mind, the rush of adrenaline and the release of serotonin as the dark energy buzzed her nerves into a faint tickling, tingling sensation. It felt good. The memory of killing in this arena. The memory of escaping her captors. Reliving it as she drove deeper into the beast.
It felt very, very good.
-"Shi-... I wa-.. status repor... now! Aresh isn... payin... enough for this... STATUS REPOR..."-
"That sounded like a krogan," Miranda shouted as she trailed Jack. "Blood pack?"
"Maybe. Question is, what the fuck does the Blood Pack want here? And who the fuck is this Aresh guy whose paying them?"
"The better question is... Where did Shepard go?" Miranda obtrusively corrected, before returning to the silent commlink. "Commander. I need your site and a status now."
Hissssssssssss...
"... SHIT!" Jack seized Miranda and threw her on the ground, covering the woman's body as she raised a barrier of dark energy around them.
...sssssssss... Ba- ROOM
Glass hit the biotic wall first, shattering sounds rattling against the small space. A thermal gust singed the air, pushing Jack's planted body a few inches backwards, using Miranda's body as an anchor. Fragmentation flew from the entrance, rocks, pieces of wall, sheets of metal, and tables flung in every which direction across the courtyard. When shit stopped flying, Jack stepped back from Miranda, arms still raised as she maintained the umbrella of protection.
The courtyard was freshly ruined, lunch benches piled near the exit. Jack recognized this place... She remembered this place. It was the only concept of outside she knew in her childhood. This small, interior garden where children played, dined, and fought each other. She'd pound and pound and pound against the window, begging for contact... for recognition... for anything. She was perpetually confused and uneasy. Why did they hate her so much? Why did they ignore her? Screaming higher and higher...
Subject Zero paled as she looked up, eyes glued to the now-shattered window. Behind that broken glass was her first cage. Her first prison cell. Her first taste with authority. Her first experiences. Memories... kills...
Jack narrowed her eyes, released the barrier - dark energy dissipating. She marched towards the blast seat, rounding her shoulders as a new wave of confidence filled her head. She punched a wave of dark energy against the nonfunctional door, knocking the metal sheet off its rail, flying back into the facility's interior. Glass, fragmentation, tiles, dust, and branches crunched underfoot as she studied her former pen.
The place was shattered, walls bellowed out, clouds of smoke streaming out of gaping holes produced by structural damage. Partial and intact bodies littered the ground, the smell of charred flesh intermingling with the lingering chemical vapor.
"Blood Pack mercenaries..." Miranda voiced, kneeling to regard a krogan helmet, liquid dripping from the bright red tubes that decorated the heavy war mask. "... This is Rage Armor... This belonged to a battlemaste-.. Oh dear lord..."
"What? What is it?" Jack demanded, scavenging ammo from a crisped vorcha.
Miranda grit her teeth, stood up, and kicked the helmet away, "The krogan's head was still in there. Well.. part of its head was..."
"... One of these days, I'm going to find out a way to decapitate a krogan cleanly... I know it can be done. I thought the C4 might do something, but I guess I have to cross that off my list."
The Princess and the Punk slowly turned their heads to regard the disembodied voice floating above them, just above the staircase. Jack couldn't see her... but she knew she was there.
"Commander. What happened?" Miranda demanded.
"I killed an entire band of mercenaries with a few explosives," Shepard's voice replied. "I mean.. I thought that much was obvious."
Lawson slouched, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of her nose, annoyed. "Why did you disappear?"
"You two kept yammering on and on and on and on... You both bored me," Shepard's voice grumbled. "I don't like to be bored."
Jack and Miranda both stared slack-jawed at the staircase where Shepard might or might not be.
"By the way... I found a someone poking around up here," The voice whistled. "He's the guy who hired the cheap-ass Blood Pack company. Claims he knows you, Jackie girl... Back when you were kids"
There she was. The lioness. Poised for the kill, bent low and blending into the pitch darkness. Jack couldn't see her, but she knew Shepard was staring directly at her. She could feel the unsettling ice-gray eyes fixed on her. Reading every muscle tension, every reaction, reading Jack utterly. Shepard was exploiting Jack's weaknesses... She was tearing her apart and displaying the little girl buried behind layers of arrogance, anger, hatred and ugliness. Jack shivered, brown eyes darting fearfully as she searched for the only visible person who was unlikely to kill her.
Lawson's brows furrowed, almond-shaped eyes narrowed as her lips thinned in frustration at the commander's juvenile display of dominance. Blue eyes caught Jack's lingering gaze. Miranda blinked, face blank as she regarded Jack. Miranda didn't recognize her. Jack's mascara streamed down her face, black roots staining cheeks marble grey. She chewed on a chapped lip cheaply painted red, fearfully averting her gaze as she returned to her tormentor.
"... shit..."
"You don't have to face him," Lawson suggested, shaking her head. "In fact, I think it wise that you don't."
Jack sneered, the anger flooding through her body. A second wind filled her chest, securely hiding the scared little girl behind something better than a fucking desk nailed to the floor. Subject Zero lifted her shoulders and walked forward, marching up the stairs to meet her past head on. Jack had to tie up her past. She had to kill it, or else she'd never rise from the ashes a better person. Jack had the change... from the very core of her being.
Is this religious ecstasy? Jack thought. Realizing that everything is impertinent. Everything changes. She would walk away an entirely different person... Who knows. If she survives the Suicide Mission... she'll be a total stranger. Someone new. Always living... always dying.
And then the words echoed. Remembering only a little...
O living always, always dying! O the burials of me past and present...
It was there. And it was profound.
Jack walked up the stairs, one foot after the other. She could see Shepard's outline more clearly from a closer proximity, the optical illusion fading only slightly by the closed distance. She ignored the commander, searching familiar ground in the dark temple. It was so different in her dreams. The floors were glossy white, and there was so much activity. Poked, prodded, pushed, and played with by a multitude of scientists. There were a few who made it easier... slipped in treats, told her stories... the nurse who gave body paints was Jack's saving grace. She savored each color, dipping a finger into the colorful liquid and spreading it across her body.
He helped her escape. He hijacked the shuttle, got her off Pragia. He taught her how to survive, how to use her powers to protect herself. You will always be wanted, so never stop moving. And try to keep your head down.
Jack was never very good at keeping her head down, unfortunately. Bad temper and what have you.
"He said his name is Aresh Aghdashloo. Probably made up, like your moniker... He's in the lab room. Y'know. The one with the creepy chair."
Subject zero narrowed her eyes. Her fingers turned into her palms. Her fists rolled and her knuckles whitened. Jack walked past Shepard's ghost, stepping into the laboratory. The room still smoldered, charred tile and broken walls unwelcoming as the biotic intruded.
There, centering the room was the bad place.
She could feel her scars burn as her eyes braced the bolted-down chair. It was occupied by a stranger, a dirty, balding man who had aged terribly. The kids were always Jack's age, give or take two years. This man looked to be at least twenty years Jack's senior, skin wrinkled and pitted, hair thin and gone... He was bloody, clothes and skin lacerated by flying glass and fragmentation. His neck, wrists, and ankles were braced into the chair. Jack stared at the man for a good long time before she realized he was completely unresponsive.
"... Is he dead?" Jack hesitated.
"No," Shepard replied. "He's unconscious."
A machine pistol 'floated' around the biotic. It hovered in the space between Jack and the knocked out stranger.
"You came here to get rid of your past. If this guy was really one of those kids you love to bitch about, then he's a part of that past. If you want to erase it all, you have to be thorough."
Jack shook her head, collecting the gun. "Why was he here?" She whispered.
Shepard shrugged, "Didn't wait long enough to ask. Seeing as he hired a biotic krogan to cover his ass. But I imagine it's the same reason you're here. To find some answers, figure out what went wrong, make his commander happy so that he can get back to the bigger picture such as... you know... saving the fucking galaxy instead of being a nosy prick. Funny... he wasn't pleased when I started to blow up parts of the facility for giggles... You'd think he'd be happy to see the shit hole burn, like you'd be. I'm guessing he was here to start it back up again."
Jack's jaw nearly dropped, "what..?!"
"People do stupid shit to make sense of themselves," Shepard continued. "He was just a lab rat, Jack. You were the special one. They used him like fodder, to make sure they didn't kill you."
"How the fuck do you know that?!"
Shepard's cloak finally powered down, static shimmering over her figure. The commander wasn't even looking at Jack. She was staring at the man, strapped to the chair, chest collapsing and lifting with every shallow breath. She tapped her omni tool, fingertips dancing across the orange screen. Jack's wrist beeped shortly after the soldier minimized the device. "I hacked into their terminals. My tool is swimming with classified Cerberus information about Project Zero. You were an anomaly. The other kids were there to test all the fancy new lab equipment on... so they wouldn't kill you."
The commander gestured towards the man by rolling her shoulder, still offering the gun to Jack. "You escaped because the kids organized a riot. The faculty was pre-occupied. And you made your get away with an on-staff nurse named Jack Darnay. They found Darnay dead, or... found parts of his body floating in Omega's black market. Batarian slavers, I take it? Intercepted the both of you during your escape route...? Before Torfan, they used to tattoo their slaves..." Shepard gestured around her head. "Just above the crown, like yours..."
Jack's jaw tensed.
"Figured you'd like to get rid of all that shit too. I've already wiped my tool. You've got the only copies. Just burn it... get rid of it... kill this guy over here... start fresh."
The convict narrowed her eyes. Her eyes crossed slightly, peering down at the machine pistol. It was an M4 Shuriken, worn and decorated with layers of childish stickers. Jack lifted her brow. "... Pink girly stickers, Shepard? Don'tcha think you are being a little overt at this point?"
Shepard shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I got that from a pawn shop in Omega?"
Jack shook her head, plucking the heavy pistol from Shepard's extended hand. The woman swallowed, sliding back the hammer, flipping the safety on and off with a quick tap of her finger. She eyed the stoic commander, gaze etching back as she regarded Miranda who busied herself by sifting through her omni-tool's reminders and messages. Jack is about to kill an unconscious man related to her past and Lawson has the nerve to actually check her fucking e-mails.
Subject Zero grabbed that fucking gone and walked up to the dreamless stranger, pressing the barrel's mouth right between his eyes. It'd be over so fast. It would just take three quick bursts from the Shuriken, and he'd be dead. No begging, no confessions, no pain. One minute there, the next gone.
If you want to erase your past, you have to be thorough. Shepard's voice echoed. Jack stiffened. The commander was a living mystery, a blank card with little history. Her lack of familiarity is what gave her power. She was unpredictable, unknowable... a fucking question mark with a pissed off frown.
Shepard's lack of history made her utterly ruthless. Shepard's lack of identity gave her the freedom of malleability.
But was the trade of anonymity worth the lack of friendships? She who wears walls and pushes people back?
Perhaps for Shepard it was worth it. And Perhaps Shepard enjoyed the self-inflicted conditions.
But that's Shepard. And Shepard isn't Jack.
BAM BAM BAM
Jack shot the chair's restraints. One, Two, Three. She turned to regard Shepard.
"I want this asshole in cargo. We'll let the Alliance deal with him, you know how they love having a good set of reasons to shake their heads at Cerberus." The convict collected the man, pulling him off the bolted torture device. "I want the explosives strung up in this room, especially around this fucking chair. I want to see these place turn into a boiling pot of disinfecting fire."
The commander said nothing.
Check mate, bitch. Jack thought to herself. You really thought I'd let you manipulate me like that? Fuck. You.
Lawson sighed, tapping her foot impatiently, "This has been a wonderful use of our time. Now can we plant the bombs and return to more pressing matters?"
"... Pressing...?" Jack hissed. "I haven't been here in years. This place tortured me for years and I'm just now figuring all this shit out... and you aren't even going to keep your stupid fucking opinion to yourself for just a couple of minutes?"
Miranda narrowed her eyes, "You do recall the list of complaints I forwarded after you helped me save my sister, correct?"
"Is this over the comment I made about her being prettier than you?"
"She's my genetic twin. And no. Your lack of intelligence isn't even worthy of a complaint."
Jack seethed. "My lack of intelligence? What about YOURS. This fucking guy named The Illusive Man of all names runs a human-centric organization for twenty sum years that has a long record of hurting a lot of people, including innocent children, and you are still stupid enough to defend him!"
Miranda glared, flushing red. "Cerberus is a large orga-"
"You know what, Miri?" Shepard suddenly interrupted, blinking between the princess and the fire cracker. "Jack does have a point. I mean, how much evidence do you need to be convinced that your boss sucks balls?"
Lawson sighed, rolling her eyes as she sarcastically drawled back, "Oh, I don't know. Enough to convince me that he single handedly tortured young children?"
The commander blinked. A hand rested under her chin, finger gingerly tapping it as grey eyes rolled up. She sniffed, nostrils flaring before the lion's gaze fixed on brunette Barbie. "You're sure about that?"
"I am a skeptic, not an idiot, Shepard," Miranda groaned.
"... Well, alright then. I left it up to you," Shepard shrugged.
Jack suddenly lost her balance, a force smacking the back of Jack's knees and throwing her down. Something dug into her skin and her muscles cramped, an uncomfortable tingling sensation pricking her body. Her arms slacked and the unconscious stranger toppled to the floor with a sickening bang. It was too fast. The biotic did not have time to react. The initial shock of rough handling wore off, and Jack could finally assess the situation.
Shepard sealed Jack's arms against the cold, hard surface of the chair - snapping the cuff around her neck and quickly tying the convict's ankles and knees with salvaged duct tape. Her pulse quickened. Her temperature rose. She could feel it... her scars burned.
"Oh god, god god, get me out of this, get me out of this, oh god get me out of this," Jack cried, struggling against the chair, against the bad place.
Frightened brown eyes stared at Shepard, who only smiled.
Check Mate.
The lioness had pounced.
"Please... Please get me out of this. This is a bad place. I have to go. I have to.." Jack cried, pulling against the tight restraints. They dented her skin, rubbing the old scars across her wrists, neck, and ankles raw. "Oh god, The pain, stop the pain, Oh god please don't..."
Jack's first tattoo was not designed by choice. Her skin had become permanently marred due to the experiments and eezo therapy. The bad place marked her, physically and mentally. The scientists who painted her numbed flesh by cutting it open with their knives did not tell her that the open wounds would be directly exposed to a blanket of raw eezo as she lay chained by a bolted chair. It cut her again and again and again. The pain was so overwhelming.
Jack sobbed.
"... Shepard... What... What are you doing?" Jack could hear Miranda's voice distantly.
She could feel her scars split open. She could feel the blanket swallow her alive. But Jack couldn't fight off the restraints. She was just a scared little girl who could not stop crying, "It hurts so much, stop... stop... I'm begging you... Stop..."
"...Shepard..." Miranda continued. "Y-you can't do this."
"I can do whatever I want," Jack heard her... the cold snap of her voice, empty and hollow of empathy. "I'm tempted to just leave her here like this, really."
No no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO "NO NO NO NO NO! NO DON'T LEAVE ME! NO! Just kill me! I'm begging you, just kill me, I won't, I won't, I won't.."
The pain bit through her tissue, heat breaking through the flesh, across the mounts of faint pink scars peeking across patterned skin. Jack was a little girl, gaped baby teeth biting into a tongue compressor. She was hungry. They didn't let her eat that day - she was tired, depleted and frustrated. The doctors instructed her on a few breathing exercises. They told her they were decorating her body with elaborate stones, especially across the flesh wounds they painted across her arms, legs, and neck earlier.
The strange stones were cool across her naked body at first... and then they burned.
For three months straight, she'd drift in and out of consciousness to the smell of her own piss, shit, vomit and blood - scientists periodically cleaning up after her, but the stench always lingered.
"Shepard, I can't let you do this," Miranda stated.
"The hell you can't," Shepard shrugged. "Or did you forget chain of command? We both take orders from Mister Illusive.. but we have one little difference between us. I rank higher than you. You are my second in command. So... you wanna breach my orders? You'll be breaching his orders too."
Jack only cried. She could hardly make sense of the past and the present. She couldn't tell who she was, where she was, why she was there, if all of it was just an escape. Perhaps the Normandy was all just an escape. It made sense... the reapers, the collectors, all this fantastically weird bullshit. That would come from the imagination of an eight year old. Just a dream to distract her from reality.
"I want to go to bed," Jack sobbed, "It hurts so much, just let me go to sleep. I'm so tired..."
"...This... This isn't right," Miranda's voice strained.
"Chain of Command, Lawson. Learn it."
"It hurts... I just... Please, please let me go to bed," the imaginary voices kept whispering in her head. Scientists... Miranda... Shepard... The nurse... the kids... and the rain. That rain. It pounded, it moved, it kept hitting the ceiling, slamming against the windows. She could hear the thunder distantly, as the typhoon continued its dialogue with the jungle.
"... No, I won't let you do this," Miranda protested.
"Or you are gonna do what, Laws-"
Jack could hear the thwack of a fist hitting something. The room shook as a heavy half-ton weight hit the ground and roll with loud collateral down the stairs, a string of obscenities slicing the air. She lied there, fingers and toes tingling as the ties around her wrists and feet were cut loose. She could feel someone pull her body off the chair. Jack's knees buckled and her body went slack. Brown eyes searched for her savior, finding Miranda Lawson braced against her, vice grip keeping Jack up, the convict's arm slung haphazardly over Lawson's shoulders. The hallucinations spiraled across her mind as the agent's voice faded in and out of the screams, the crying, the smell, the pain, the rain, the rain, the never-ending rain...
"Jack... Jack stay with me... Jack, come on. Come on, Jack. Dammit... Come on..." Miranda shouted, shaking her and snapping her fingers.
Subject Zero paled, collapsing in Miranda's arms as the scars cooled the woman's hands. The past, the present... the child, the criminal... the victim, the suspect...
The emotions, the feelings, the past, everything flooded her all at once.
"Jack... Stay... Jack c'm-... Jack... Jack pleas-"
She slipped. Dark spots grew larger. Miranda's face shifted colors... Jack could see Shepard slowly climbing back up those steps behind Lawson. Shepard did not smile nor did she frown. The commander only watched her, staring as the Cerberus loyalist gingerly held Jack.
The lioness watched as Jack blacked out.
Author's Note::
Listen to Agnus Dei by Rufus Wainwright.
Tattoos are scars, and scars are tattoos. They make us, give us identification, connects us to the past.
And now another mystery - Why the hell did Shepard do that to Jack, and what was she trying to achieve?
Thank you so much for your patience. It means a lot to me that you've continued to follow this story as I take my time to write. Miranda's chapter has been in my head since October, but finding the perfect set-up and execution has been difficult.
Here's some future chapter titles so you have some idea of what to expect. Note - The titles and order of story are subject to change.
Ch. 12: If I Had a Heart (Zaeed Massani's Story)
Ch. 13: Halo (Garrus Vakarian's Story)
Ch. 14: What the Water Gave Me(Thane Krios's Story; with ties to the fic 'What the Water Gave Me')
Ch. 15: For We Are Many (Legion's Story)
Ch. 16: The Hand That Feeds (The Illusive Man's Story)
Ch. 17: Elementary (Liara T'Soni's Story)
Ch. 18: Visur Vatnesenda-Rosu (Kaiden Alenko's Story)
Ch. 19: The Art Teacher (Jack's Story)
Ch. 20: Poker Face (James Vega's Story)
Ch. 21: Ghost in the Machine (EDI's story)
Ch. 22: Outlier (Javik's Story)
Ch. 23: Bastardized Ink (?'s Story)
Ch. 24: Wings (Admiral Anderson's Story
Epilogue: Cogito Ergo Sum (Shepard's Story)
End.