Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

33. Subject Zero

"The Cycle of Violence" from The Last of Us Part II

XXXIII. Subject Zero

(Miranda)

Early morning restlessness, sitting at my desk in only my nightdress, with my door locked—I found myself browsing the extranet on my terminal, clicking away at my interests in a strange sort of haze. At the moment, I read over a few reviews of the recent Fashion Weeks that Shepard and I had watched on television while we'd been at home together. I did feel rather…lazy for doing this. Then again, not needing to sleep allowed me to finish my work quickly enough, leaving me with plenty of time to myself. Almost too much time to myself, really. I had at least a couple of hours left before the next briefing, before we would go pick up Subject Zero from Purgatory, the prison ship out in space.

Subject Zero.

Jack.

I had some memories of this person. At least, in passing. I'd never met them myself, even though I should have. A long time ago. About a decade ago, the Illusive Man had sent me to our Teltin facility on Pragia. Cerberus had funded a somewhat secretive band of scientists and researchers out on that over-forested planet, raising groups of human biotic children they had supposedly rescued from batarian slavers. As far as I knew, the experiments had been harmless enough in the beginning. But then they began pushing the children too far: drugging them to enhance their biotic capabilities. Torturing them. Children, adolescents, toddlers and all.

When I'd showed up ten years ago at the facility to perform a surprise inspection, I had played the part well enough. Pretending to the scientists' faces that I agreed with their methods. Saving face. Not once letting them know that their experiments had gone much too far. Trying not to show any genuine horror in my face when I saw those children dressed in tattered rags, with endless amounts of scars and burns over their skin. Some of them thin as skeletons. Many of them with bruises over their necks from strangulation—and possibly with more bruises elsewhere, beneath their clothes, from the adult scientists sexually abusing them. All of them addicted to narcotics and craving their next hit; needing the stimulation from these experiments that had brutalized them into Neanderthals.

Child abuse. Torture. Drugging. Isolation.

All to push their biotic powers. All to push them to the brink for the data. Nothing more.

I had some vague memories of the scientists explaining their reasoning. That they didn't act this severely with all of the children. The other subjects, they performed controlled experiments on. Testing their limitations. Anything that proved too dangerous, they would not repeat on their actual golden child:

Their real experiment, Subject Zero, who'd only been about thirteen or fourteen years old at the time.

All of the other children were mere sacrificial lambs meant to further Zero's progress.

I'd immediately reported my findings back to the Illusive Man. Naturally, he'd had no idea that Teltin's scientists had gone that far. They must have gone rogue, he'd said. Cerberus couldn't abide by such barbaric methods for the sake of progress. And so he'd given me his orders to shut down the facility.

Not even the next day, I'd received reports of a breakout on Pragia. Many of the children had escaped the facility, killing nearly all of the scientists on their way out. Or at least they'd tried to escape. Subject Zero had somehow gotten loose, killing more people before ultimately escaping to freedom. Zero had remained as a criminal on-the-run over the past decade before ultimately getting captured and sent to this Purgatory prison ship. Never fully healing from those brutal experiments. Living out more trauma.

Even after the incident, I'd chosen to return to the Teltin facility. Conveniently enough, most of the data from those experiments had been wiped clean from existence. I had been able to track some of the surviving scientists back to the Alliance's Ascension Program for biotic children. After acting in my own convenience, leaking to the program that these scientists belonged to Cerberus, the survivors had been promptly kicked out and sent back to us. Back to Cerberus, for questioning—by me, personally.

None of the scientists had survived once I was through with them.

Ultimately continuing that cycle of violence they had perpetuated against so many innocents.

Especially when they'd continued to claim that the Illusive Man had sanctioned their actions—barring the sexual abuse against those children. They'd tried to mind fuck me into believing this. Into believing their cause. Into believing their extremes. Desperate to save their own asses, they'd lied to me. Clearly.

I'd chosen not to believe those lies.

But every now and then, like today, like now, I would question myself all over again.

Wondering how and why something like this could have happened. On the Illusive Man's watch, no less.

I also regretted not speaking to Subject Zero myself at the time. The scientists had kept Jack in complete isolation. Had I pushed my luck and demanded to speak with Zero, I may have blown my cover. So I'd let the issue go, convincing myself that I'd save my questions for my next visit. Then the rest had happened.

So for this mission, I fully expected Jack to resist joining the team at first. Because of Cerberus.

Hopefully Shepard would be able to resolve the situation with her diplomacy as necessary.

In the meantime, I continued to browse around online. Mostly staring at the lineup Vera Wang had during New York Fashion Week. Those wedding dresses…

I had obsessed over one in particular for a while now. From her iconic collection:

Classic white. Symmetrical, strapless mermaid gown. One side rising higher than the other over the breast in sharpness, angling down to wrap along the torso. Draping for days. Full skirt with ladder techniques, drapes looping and looping in a fine gathering of material. Pure elegance and class.

Not necessarily a showstopper. It didn't need to be. There was a chic simplicity about this that I adored.

Staring at this again now, I caught myself fantasizing all over again.

Wondering what she would look like in a matching tuxedo. Incredibly handsome. Charming. Perfect.

God, I needed to stop this…

I tabbed over to my email once I noticed an alert for a new message. Smiling a bit in warmth, I assumed that this might have been from Shepard. I really wasn't sure why. She had been cooped up in her room ever since we'd returned from the Citadel yesterday. Not necessarily avoiding me. Just…thinking. As per usual with her. And so I assumed that this was from her, to reassure me once again that all was well.

Except this was not from her.

Not from her at all.

From: Lawson, Henry – We need to talk.

Miranda,

I've heard about what's going on with you—your recent developments with the Lazarus Project, and with Commander Shepard. I understand that you've become quite significant on the galactic stage. You're the one who will guarantee that the commander is able to help humanity in the upcoming war against the Reapers. No doubt you see the importance of such a grand responsibility. To that end, I have to say:

I couldn't be prouder of you for what you've accomplished.

With Cerberus, and with Commander Shepard.

I've also heard the news reports about your relationship with her. This is all a fine synthesis, Miranda. I greatly approve of your choices. What you've sacrificed. I had no idea that you were obsessed with her for the better part of two decades. Had I known, I would have arranged for you to meet her myself. I'm sure I could have pulled a few strings. It's only a shame that you decided to leave home so long ago.

You and I have had our misunderstandings. You were only a young girl before. You couldn't fathom my reasons for pushing you as hard as I did. Now that things are different, you and I ought to speak to one another. Sort through these differences of ours. See if we can't go back to the bond we once had. There was a time when you revered me, you know. When you hung on my every word. When you needed my validation to know that you were worthy. I want us to return to that—in some form. As much as possible.

If Commander Shepard has taken my place, then I can't fault you for that. I only hope that we can also discuss this. It isn't healthy for you to view another woman this way. Unless there's something else at work here. Whatever the case, we need to discuss this…at your earliest convenience. Preferably soon.

-Your father

Rage burned my throat with this sound of annoyance I let out. The absolute gall of this man. His entitlement. His expectations in keeping me on some fucking leash all over again. His ridiculous ego in believing that I would actually speak to him, after everything he had put me through!

And his nerve in diminishing how he'd emotionally abused me. Subversive: without laying a hand on me.

Purest subterfuge against my mind. Nearly assassinating me that way, all while I had been just a child.

Misunderstandings…

I deleted his damned message within seconds after I finished reading it. And I blocked his email address.

Blowing hot air, I buried my face in my hands. Trying to breathe. Thinking about my sister Oriana; wondering if she was all right. Hoping that this wasn't some prelude to our father saying that he'd taken my sister somewhere, all in order to entrap me into doing what he wanted. Then again, I didn't have to hope or wonder about anything. I knew for a fact that Oriana was all right. Cerberus had helped me hide her, protect her. I could have brought up the surveillance footage of my sister in her university classes at any time, any moment. Just to see her. Just to know for myself that she was in fact doing well enough.

I hadn't been able to watch any of the footage lately. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I had moved on from the incident over the past two years, with the one I'd manipulated. The one I'd constantly viewed as my sister—when it was convenient. Trying to find Oriana through her. But I had yet to sever this final connection. This last strand, this last meaning. I supposed I still needed more time.

As for my father, I knew he didn't really give a damn about me.

No doubt this was all about securing his dynasty. Now that I had this significance with the war, he of course wanted to ensure that history would remember his part in creating me. Taking credit for my own accomplishments. Even crediting himself, possibly, for the way Shepard felt about me today.

In my father's eyes, I was the purest extension of him in every form. A perfect female version of him.

To this day, these mirrors continued to blind me with their persistent glares, shining this ugly spotlight.

He had passed on some version of his warped perception to me. Not entirely the same… Yet still twisted.

Such uncanny timing: I heard a knock upon my door.

At this hour, there was only one person it could have been, knowing that I was fully awake.

I got up from my desk and went to the door. Standing off to the side, hidden by the wall—on the off-chance that someone else was outside, out in the mess hall having an extremely early breakfast. I didn't want them to see me like this. God forbid it might have been Zaeed, of all people. He would have stared.

My unexpected visitor was the single person allowed to see me like this.

My completely unexpected visitor who was not in fact running from me. But she moved at a blisteringly quick pace nonetheless. Fast-walking. Power-walking. Struggling to maintain her own power around me.

I opened the door.

Ridged weight of her combat boots shifting, Shepard walked inside, already wearing her N7 stealth suit.

Beauty cascading, she had left her hair down for these hours yet before the briefing. Finding me in such purity of spirit. Gazing at me in an endless patience as the door closed behind her, locking once more.

Locking onto me, Shepard crossed the short distance between us.

Towering over me, she pulled me in close, smelling faintly of her cologne. Turning me all the way on.

Insulating me in this smooth material of her suit, I sighed into the meaning of her embrace. This weight of her, this power of her, all wrapped around me, as strong as Shepard's arms were in her intentions: she had so much to say. So much to express. So much to give to me. Yet she had chosen to coalesce all of it into this moment. Holding me like this. Drawing this contrast of how exposed I felt in her hold, with only this lace over my body. She could have groped me; grabbed me to make the point of her strength.

Shepard chose to kiss my neck instead, so very tender as she lingered over my skin. Erogenous, intimate.

"Hey," she whispered, reaching deep in me.

I settled my arms around her shoulders, leveraging myself against her. "Well, this is a surprise…"

Shepard inched her lips up to my jawline, tracing me with her care. "I wanted to see you. I had to."

Light-headed from her care, her attention on me like this, worshipping, I only moaned in response.

She kept going. Softer, steadier. Leaning me backward into this arch I couldn't even realize. Falling someplace in her arms, into this ocean's abyss, blue with her virtues, I couldn't see anything anymore.

As a light in these depths, Shepard's voice reached me, right in my ear: "Do you need anything, babe?"

Moaning more in disorientation, I wasn't quite able to recall if I needed anything. Anything except her; other than what she gave now, holding me and cherishing me like this. Swelling my heart about ten sizes as she adored me. Somewhere, I remembered that I had mild cramps at this time of the month. Vague pains. Not enough to be a bother.

I was about to speak on this, yet the words continued to elude me.

More so once Shepard cradled my back in her touch, controlling me. Finding her power anew. Earning the reactions from me she desperately craved; that I desperately wanted to give her, as I did, over and over.

Shepard's affectionate authority nearly sent me into overdrive—"Tell me what you need, baby."

Melting me by these smooth depths of her voice, I needed her to take me. Right now. Right this instant.

Somewhere, I knew that it was still too soon. Or was it…? I couldn't know anymore.

Somehow, I made myself say instead, "I could do with some tea… You know what time it is for me."

Nodding against me, she accepted, "Then I'll go make some for you. Which one do you want?"

Still hazy, I replied, "I think I'm in the mood for chamomile today. If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, babe," she promised. "Go sit down on the couch. Wait for me. I'll be back soon."

"Thank you, Shepard…"

Holding me tighter one last time, Shepard brought her lips to mine, just as close, with such fondness.

She then let me go, finding my empty Virgo mug over my desk. Taking it with her, she exited my office, and returned to the mess hall, to the kitchen there. Doing as I wanted, as I needed. As only she could.

Practically spinning in place, I somehow wandered over to the couch. The one behind my desk. Halved at this distance separating my office proper from my bedroom. Relaxing here, I fell into the recent memory of Shepard's surprise. Everything she had just done for me. Everything about her. Knowing that she was only a wall away from me right then, I needed her to come back already. To continue; to keep this going.

Then again, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised.

Our time at the Dark Star lounge yesterday had been quite revealing.

Even before that, the way she had stepped up to shield me from that awful reporter had spoken wonders. Ever the protective type. Even knowing I could handle myself, I liked that Shepard cared so much. I loved how unabashed she was in her determination to defend my honor. Taking care of me.

Knowing that we only had until the end of the year to live like this, that changed things. At least, it could have. I wasn't sure if Shepard would actually decide to accelerate what we had. That would be her call.

Soon I heard Shepard's knock upon the door again. I used my omni-tool to remotely allow her entry. Once she entered the room, I locked the door right back. Listening to her soundless approach.

And then, here was Shepard, kneeling before me upon the floor. Next to the couch. Next to me, while staring up at me. Revering me with her gaze. All-consuming in her focus.

Shepard handed me my tea with both hands, steaming. "Here you go."

I smiled over her care, accepting. "Come here. I want you with me."

Situating ourselves over this leather, I moved just enough, letting Shepard sit behind me. Propping me up against her front. Holding me here like this. I then settled back over the durable weight of her suit, basking in this renewed feel of her arms around me. Enjoying the perfectly sweet smell of the chamomile mixed with enough honey; lightly blowing over the steam, adoring; and sipping this perfection, warming me on the way down in a comforting heat. Not piping hot, not too much. Just right.

Nestled in Shepard's hold like this, she kept her head next to mine, over mine. Comforting me more as I listened to her breathe. I never wanted this to end.

Not on purpose, Shepard brought a pause to my bliss when she asked, "What were you up to earlier?"

I remembered…

Stewing over the memory, I told her, "At first, I was only browsing the extranet. Trying to pass the time. Then I received an email. One that bothered me. Quite a lot."

"Who was it from?" she worried.

"My father."

Darkening in-tandem with my mood, Shepard hummed in disapproval.

"I know," I agreed. "He sent me some nonsense about the war. Essentially congratulating me for the role I have with you now. I'm not sure how he found out. And I suppose he approves of you dating me."

"Interesting… Do you plan on emailing him back?"

"Absolutely not. I deleted his message, then blocked his email address. I want nothing to do with him."

"I understand, babe," she sympathized. "But you know, you only told me surface details about him before. Him and your twin sister. How he created the two of you with those perfect genes. I get why you'd resent him after he spent so long controlling you. I'm just wondering if there's more to the story."

I sighed, admitting, "Yes, Shepard. There's a lot more I haven't told you."

She held me a little tighter. "I'm here if you want to tell me. You know I'd never judge you."

Trusting her with ease, I explained, "Well, I'm guessing you were able to glean the obvious. That he emotionally abused me. The constant mind games. Needing to live up to his impossible expectations. Never being allowed to have any friends or to live my own life. I had to be whatever he wanted. I had no freedom to be myself. None whatsoever." Even in reliving these memories, I appreciated that Shepard kept on holding me. Unfaltering in her support. "I always felt like I wasn't allowed to have any problems. People would always look at me and assume that my life was perfect. I suppose I wanted to project that image, certainly. But it ended up ruining my self-esteem. I didn't know how to relate to anyone else."

Shepard chanced asking, "Even after all that, did you…ever love him as your parent?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Me neither."

We stayed quiet for a moment. Understanding our shared plight.

Then she brought up, "What was the last straw? What made you decide to run away from him?"

My face burned with humiliation as I recalled, "I wouldn't say it was only one thing. Although, there was something. Something that revealed itself to me over time. I wasn't able to put the pieces together until I was much older. By then I worried if it was too late for me to leave him at all. Thankfully, it wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

"When you and I first discussed this at home, over chat, I told you that I wasn't the first daughter that my father made. I was the first one he kept. In that sense, I knew I had to survive. So, I learned to pick up more details about him. Ones that disturbed me as I grew older. As I began to understand them. If not for my intuition, I doubt I would have picked up on this. I'm not sure if he ever would have acted on it."

Shepard's breathing slowed.

Yet I knew she wished to know the truth. And I wanted to tell her:

"You could say my father treated me as his surrogate spouse. Not in the sense that he constantly shared his problems with me. I suppose it's more that he always expected me to be around. He relied on my presence in our home as his centering force. He needed to know where I was at every hour of every day. When I didn't want to be around him, he would become depressed for several days. Pining after me. I wasn't allowed to date anyone, though he had no issues with me being gay. I think he preferred that I wasn't attracted to men…guaranteeing that no other man would ever get to claim ownership over me. Even the way he obsessed over my looks was a telltale sign. It was a constant feeling I had from him."

Needing to make sure: "He never…?"

"Never," I asserted. "But, in a way, he might as well have. It often felt like we were in some kind of warped relationship. He would buy me whatever I wanted. Anything I wanted, no matter the expense. I suppose he associated giving me material items with giving me love. As if showing off his wealth would lessen the chance that I might want to be with anyone else, thinking that they couldn't compare to him."

Revolted, Shepard muttered, "That's sick. Did he seriously make you to be his…"

"…plaything," I finished for her. "And the answer is yes. Also to further his dynasty. It's just as it sounds."

Enraged in her silence, she could find no more words. None to speak; none to describe how she felt.

I'd always hoped for this reaction from her.

"Shepard, I hope you understand now. The way you are—your sense of justice and your morality—it's been a guiding light for me all these years. We are ultimately products of our environments. I could have continued the cycle that he started. But then I would look to you, gazing from afar while you worked your way up through the Alliance. Knowing that if I ever told you about this, you would choose to do something about it. You would support me, first, and then stand up for me. You would have found some way to protect me if it ever came down to it."

"Miranda, of course I would have… There's no fucking question that I would. Even if I didn't know you."

"I know that… I really do. I'd say you're making up for what I never had. The things you stand for—it's as if you're filling in the gaps in my mind as well. Healing me. Keeping me safe when I was only a girl, too scared to leave my room at night to make my own tea, in case my father decided to act on his wants."

Shepard's gloved grip around my hands as I held my tea, still warm: I felt her intentions, brimming in hatred. Retribution for me. She would have done it—absolutely, without question. This rage about her had all the flavors I needed from her. Dashed with these justifications for how she and I desired and required one another to exist, filling these gaps. Patching these holes. Making up for our lacks early on.

Knowing that she would have killed for me like this, I felt satisfied by her. Cared for. Wanted by her.

Loved.

"Thankfully," I continued on, "I don't need a father. Or a mother. In any sense of the words. As far as I'm concerned, I raised myself. I'm my own parent. I appreciate that you need the stability that I managed to learn by myself. The way you adore me…I see it as your own appreciation. Expressing it with your devotion. Validating me. You and I know how the rest of this story goes. That's all that matters to me."

Nodding against my hair, Shepard accepted my judgment.

She kept on holding me like this as the rest of the hours passed, nearing 9:00am. Long after I'd finished drinking my tea, and let her set the mug over the nearby table, I stayed in her arms. Submerging myself into her, into this black of her clothes; into this night of her mind, her murderous thoughts, even as she continued to sustain me in the physical world. Guarding me like a hound, Shepard wouldn't let me go. I was her domain, her property, and she would never let anyone disrespect me or take me away from her.

As far as I knew, her actions with all of this spoke of her truest intentions.

Shepard had practically made me hers, officially, in this way. Taking care of me like this. With so much on her mind. I only wished she could have taken me to bed right then and there; taken me, finally, after so long. Claiming me for herself. Subverting all those years when no one else could ever lay claim to me.

This unrelenting comfort of her hold had already told me the words: "I love you."

Bleeding heart, bleeding for her, to be ready for her, for Shepard's truest ownership—I remained fully secure in her arms. Basking in this fantasy, this eventuality. Blooming open for her with eyes closed, seeing everything with her; forever glad that I had broken that cycle, even as this new one awaited us.

---

Once it was time, I decided that Shepard and I couldn't be seen arriving to the comm room together. It would have been hypocritical of us to do so. Especially after I had scolded Zaeed for doing the same, if not for the same reasons, starting this strange dynamic the two of us had now. So I made up my mind to leave my room first after getting dressed. I allowed Shepard to remain behind, giving her the relevant permissions to lock my door afterward. Keeping a ten minute delay between us seemed to be the best idea.

Shepard had promised to use the spare time to go over her intel on Subject Zero. She'd sent me off with the sweetest kiss, embracing me one last time. Swelling this smile on my face as I'd left for the elevator.

Nevertheless, I again struggled not to smile too much as I made my way to the command deck. Walking through the lab, I found Mordin wrapping up his current experiments. The two of us greeted one another as we headed to the comm room, exchanging light conversation about his progress with the seeker swarms. He seemed to notice my mood, but thought against commenting on it. I supposed it was no surprise as to the reasons behind my lightness. Dating the ship's captain afforded me few excuses, and little-to-no privacy. Not that I could complain. To some extent, I enjoyed the crew's fixations on us.

I knew that everyone was curious. I knew that they wondered about me, about us together.

As long as they kept from asking me any particularly invasive questions, I couldn't mind their curiosities.

When Mordin and I arrived to the comm room together, I was surprised to find Legion already here with Zaeed, the two of them standing side by side. I took my spot across from them on the other side: adjacent to the head of the table where Shepard would be soon. In a way, I had claimed this spot for myself, as Shepard's second-in-command. Legion having the spot directly across from me made the most sense, as it had played a large part in helping me bring our commander back. Hierarchies, always.

"There you are!" called Zaeed, sounding rather chipper. "I'm here early this time. See that, Lawson? I can play nice; follow the rules just fine. Bet you thought I'd be late again, didn't you?"

I really didn't understand why he cared so much.

Mordin humored him with a smile anyway, "Congratulations in order for accomplishment, Zaeed. Proud of you for being early. Tardiness would have surely earned consternation from Miranda—again. Folded arms and furrowed brow guaranteed reactions upon repeating mistake."

"I know, right? Wanted some kind of reward for my hard work, walking over here from the armory this soon. Got in my pre-mission exercise and everything. I'm feeling refreshed, that's for sure."

Legion didn't get it. "The armory is just down the hall. Is this a feat worthy of celebration?"

"No," grunted Zaeed. "It's only sarcasm, you goddamn machine. Hell, I can't even believe I'm talking to one of you. A geth. Used to blow you fuckers up for sport back in the day. Now here we are, working on the same bloody team together! Crazy how shit can change like that."

Last but not least, Garrus arrived, looking surprised to see everyone. "Looks like the gang's all here."

"Greetings, Archangel," said Legion.

Garrus grimaced as he took the spot next to Mordin. "Err, you know, Legion, calling me Archangel might not be the best idea… I'm trying to keep some anonymity going. Every merc out in the Terminus Systems is supposed to think I'm dead. You keep calling me that, and you'll blow my cover."

"Garrus Vakarian…?"

"Just Garrus is fine. No need to be so formal."

"Acknowledged."

"Speaking of that," noticed Zaeed, "What the hell do you call everyone else, Legion? I'm curious now."

"Shepard-Commander. Operator Lawson. Dr. Solus. Dr. Chakwas. Mr. Moreau. Mr. Massani."

"Huh? Don't you start calling me the same as the old girl EDI! Do I look like a Mr. Massani to you?"

"Zaeed," amended Legion.

"That's better," he accepted.

Garrus pondered, "What about Subject Zero? What do you think you'll call him when he joins?"

Mordin questioned, "Subject Zero…is male?"

Zaeed pointed out, "Didn't say Jack was a woman, either. With a name like that, I pictured some big burly criminal guy. Shaved head, bunch of tattoos. Biotic powers crashing everywhere. Throwing curses out all the time like a goddamn sailor. You know, the works. Kinda like me, actually. Just—bigger."

I chose to educate him: "For what it's worth, biotics aren't typically ones to focus on muscle gain. Especially human biotics, including Jack. There's no need for us to bother. Any biotic power will be stronger than what the human body can accomplish on its own. It would be a waste of time to pour all of that energy into working out when our minds can accomplish far more than mere physical strength."

"Yeah, sure, but Jack's a vanguard," he argued. "Pretty sure vanguards gotta be strong enough to be up close in the enemy's face like that. Need to withstand some hits. Can't do that if he's some pushover. Or a tall lanky something like Shepard is. Bet she'd fall over quick if she ever had to get in a real fight."

Legion repeated a line from Shepard's incomplete dossier: "Shepard-Commander is an apex predator."

Zaeed smirked in amusement. "You're goddamn right she is. Used to think infiltrators were like scared little rats scurrying around, picking people off like cowards. Then I watched her do her thing. She sure showed me what's what. Just shows you don't gotta be some big burly meathead to get the job done."

Right on time, Shepard entered the room.

Out of respect for her presence, everyone fell silent. Waiting in a comfortable mood as she walked behind Zaeed and Legion. Taking her place at the head of the table, adjacent to me. Near to me.

Glass cannon as she was, she still took up every inch of space around us. Muscled in mind, in greatness.

Somewhat foreboding, Shepard took a moment to assess everyone in the room. Finding our attention on her. Finding our patience. Even discovering our quiet questions over her sudden serious, beyond the usual scope of her hardened personality. There just seemed to be something…more going on here.

She kept this seriousness about her as she spoke: "We've arrived at Purgatory, the prison ship where they're keeping Subject Zero locked up. A turian by the name of Warden Kuril runs the place. He's not entirely on-board with us removing Jack from his care. He's not sure how, but it looks like Subject Zero has changed the ship itself somehow. The warden's trying to study the effects. Either way, he's promised to accept the transferred funds from Cerberus. He needs to play ball."

Garrus asked, "Think the warden might try to pull something? Keep us from finding Jack somehow?"

"It's possible," replied Shepard. "So we have to be on our guard. Our objective is to get Jack out of there alive. If Warden Kuril gets in our way, we deal with him. Subject Zero is too powerful for us to lose."

As the root of her gravity, Shepard looked to me. Down at the Cerberus logo on my uniform.

In the dossiers I'd sent her, I had also forwarded the classified Cerberus details about my involvement in shutting down that heinous Teltin facility on Pragia. No doubt Shepard had pored over every word of that report. Seeing for herself the severity of the situation up close; knowing what Jack had suffered.

Shepard understood—"There's one other thing I need to point out. Jack was traumatized as a child, at a Cerberus facility for biotic children. It's safe to say we might encounter more resistance on that end. This is a violent criminal we're talking about. Severe trauma isn't anything to mess around with. Be careful."

We each expressed our own understanding. Obliging her orders, her warnings.

"I want all hands on deck for this one. I'm not taking any chances with the warden. Let's head to the armory and gear up, then leave for the bridge. Joker should be docking us at Purgatory as we speak."

Everyone filed out of the comm room, with Shepard tailing behind us.

As a group, we all chose our preferred weapons in the armory. Garrus went with an assault rifle and sniper rifle; Zaeed with his assault rifle and shotgun; Legion also with an assault rifle and its Widow sniper rifle; Shepard with her usual Widow and Razer pistol; and Mordin the same as me with a pistol and submachine gun. I surveyed the team as we prepared ourselves, wondering…

We had a fine mix of combat and tech users. Aside from the tech from her cloak and other passive implants, Shepard was pure combat in her strengths, as the glass cannon she'd always been. Mordin was more on the tech side with some light combat. Garrus and Zaeed leaned more toward relying on their guns, with some tech powers, as did Legion, with its sniping specialties and miniature combat drone.

I was the only one with any biotic capabilities. At least for now. Jack would obviously balance that out.

While we all headed to the bridge together, I did worry about this. About how I may have needed to lean on my biotic capabilities in the worst-case scenario. Of course I knew my way around my powers, but I was nowhere on Jack's level. Pragia had ensured that Subject Zero's biotics could reach the raw power of even a skilled asari commando. Just without the seasoned stamina that came with such skill.

Shepard gave the others a moment to chat with Joker before we left through the airlock.

Off to the side and out of earshot, she gave me this one-on-one instead: "Miranda, you know what I'm thinking."

Of course I did. "You're worried that Jack won't come quietly."

"I thought about asking you to change your uniform. But that would've only delayed the problem."

"Well, Zero's going to find out regardless," I said. "Whether it's this logo I have, or the one on the ship, it's unavoidable. I figured you might have to talk Jack down. If things somehow escalate to that point."

Shepard sharpened her severity. "I just need to stress something to you. I know how to deal with this situation. I can see it. Our last resort might be unavoidable. So I'm going to repeat what I told everyone earlier: our objective is to get Jack out of there alive. I'm completely serious. Do you understand me?"

Suddenly, it felt like we weren't on the same page now.

Not nearly on the same wavelength, the same frequency anymore.

She seemed to speak with a clairvoyance that I couldn't quite understand.

Her unique gift for analyzing any and all combat scenarios left me feeling my own lack in comparison.

Still, I told her, "Understood, Commander. I won't fail you."

Ominous, Shepard told me, "I'm counting on you, Miranda. I mean it."

She then had us leave with the rest of the team. Leaving through the docking cradle, to this prison ship.

Amplifying the significance of this situation, she made a point to not hold my hand. Unsettling me, deeply.

---

Our initial arrival at Purgatory seemed harmless enough. Shepard led our group at the fore as we headed through the entrance hall. Heavily-guarded by Blue Suns mercs. Turians, humans, batarians. Armed and watching us. Though I had expected the ship to be…different. As the warden had said, warned about. Instead, I found what appeared to be a normal-looking area. Cold, emotionless steel and machinery working on as intended, lit up by the lights from the nearby stars and planets outside this wide window. Specs of dust brushing past us as we walked, approaching the armed mercenaries. This hollow material housing the torture and pain from the inmates that awaited us further inside the ship.

Completely normal—on the outside.

Instead, there was a feeling that permeated the ship. As if the walls were about to bend into themselves at any moment. Almost like an indoctrination signal rang through this steel, this metal everywhere. I wondered if Jack's lifetime of trauma had somehow induced this signal throughout Purgatory. Unlocking consciousness itself this way. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant—that particular line from Subject Zero's dossier—so I could only speculate.

I supposed the more time we were to spend here, the more the environment would change.

I suspected as much, more, once the residing Blue Suns prison guard spoke to us, sounding so…lifeless:

"Welcome to Purgatory, Commander Shepard. Your package is being prepped, and you can claim it shortly. As this is a high-security vessel, you'll need to relinquish your weapons before we proceed."

Testing this strangeness, Shepard merely said, "We're not doing that."

The guard said nothing in response.

He just…stared at her from within the blinding-white slot of his helmet.

Standing behind Shepard—Mordin, Garrus, Zaeed, and Legion all exchanged looks with me. Sharing our unspoken suspicion with this oddity. This deadness. This mindlessness standing before us, plain as day.

Swaggering toward us in confidence, Warden Kuril appeared through the nearby door.

"As expected," he noted, smug. Unaffected by the rest. "Commander, I'm Warden Kuril, and this is my ship. Your weapons will be returned on the way out. You must realize this is just a standard procedure."

Unaffected by his smugness, Shepard doubled-down. "I'm not surrendering my gun. Period."

Kuril made a pointless attempt at staring her down.

Shepard remained nonplussed. Obstinate. Finding more about him than even I could realize.

The warden then suddenly changed his mind: "Guards, let them proceed. Our facility is more than secure to handle a few armed guests." The prison guard in front of us stepped aside, as ordered. "We're bringing Jack out of cryo. As soon as the funds clear, you can be on your way. If you'll follow me to Outprocessing for the pickup, Commander."

"Let's go," she accepted, leading us onward. Following Kuril through the door.

We entered to what appeared to be a raised hallway, glassed and sequestered as we overlooked a larger part of the ship, brightly-lit. Various removable cells piled on top of one another along the far walls across and below, with steel walkways for the prison guards to patrol and survey the areas. Large, metallic cranes curled and shifted about everywhere as they moved the cells from place to place.

Warden Kuril led the tour: "Cellblock Two. As you can see, we keep tight control over the population. Each prisoner's cell is a self-contained, modular unit. I've blown a few out the airlocks as an example."

Through this hallway we passed, I spotted a number of LOKI mechs standing guard over these cells, quite unlike the modular units the warden just described. Here, the inmates lay on the ground, as if dead—again. But differently. Slightly different, these inmates appeared to be somewhat at ease. Giving into this slumber, they allowed themselves to forget their plight.

The warden didn't seem to care for them. "This ship is made up of thirty cell blocks identical to this one—we house thousands of criminals. We can put the whole place in lockdown on a moment's notice." He stopped, facing Shepard once more, emphasizing: "Nothing goes wrong here."

Shepard had done her research. "You used to be in law enforcement on Palaven, didn't you? I'm guessing you wanted your own way to make sure these types of criminals couldn't get away anymore."

Kuril smirked, self-satisfied. "Perhaps I did. Keep the criminals in space and the galaxy is a safer place. Palaven was unfortunately ill-equipped to adopt such a mantra. For all of our homeworld's military might, our government was soft. Unwilling to make the hard choices. Not unlike the rest of the governments out there. I'm sure your turian companion can agree with me on that."

Garrus stiffened. "Maybe I could, Warden. I doubt our government would go for something like this."

"Of course not. Someone had to stand up and make the galaxy safe. The Turian Hierarchy wouldn't take action, so I did. Besides, we can cut corners that governments can't. And each prisoner brings in a fee from his homeworld. These individuals are violent, and their home planets pay well to keep them here."

Shepard questioned, "What happens if the homeworld doesn't want to pay?"

"We explain that we can't maintain the prisoner without their help, so we'll be forced to release him back onto his homeworld. At an unspecified place and time."

I nearly scoffed in disgust. "So it's an extortion racket."

Kuril defended himself, "You don't have to agree with my methods, but don't question my motives. These are despicable people and I am keeping them locked up. Not to mention, you're here for Jack: the meanest handful of violence and hate I've ever encountered. Dangerous, crazy, and very powerful. Safe to say I'm surprised. Last I heard, Jack isn't Cerberus' biggest fan. You'll have your work cut out for you."

Shepard brushed that aside. "Let's get on with this."

Warden Kuril continued leading us down this elevated hallway.

Glancing around at these near-lifeless inmates, I asked, "Have you had any escape attempts?"

Kuril responded, "We're in space—they have nowhere to go, and they know it. Thankfully, these recent changes throughout the ship have left the inmates…subdued. I couldn't tell you why. It's lessened our need to maintain strict patrols. But still, we exercise extreme caution. These are dangerous individuals. We have many ways to control the population as necessary." He led us through one final door, to another hall, stopping here to say: "I'm going to confirm that the funds from Cerberus cleared. Outprocessing is straight down this hallway. Just keep going past the interrogation room and the supermax wing." Menacing, he stared at Shepard one last time. "I'll catch up with you later…Shepard."

As the warden walked off in another direction, Shepard only glanced at him.

She led us down this next hallway, giving her order: "Be on your guard."

We each conveyed our understanding, following after her.

Down this next winding hall, footsteps clanking against metal, we passed by a few Blue Suns prison guards standing watch over the cranes beyond. Watching as those machines moved the cells from place to place. Completely focused on those movements, as if they were a grand spectacle worthy of their fixations, their focused attention. They continued to show no awareness of us whatsoever, as if we didn't exist. As if we weren't right behind them, walking by to our destination. They couldn't perceive us.

Even the supposed interrogation room had nothing going on in there. Just another prison guard standing outside the glass. Staring into the pervasive red light in the room. Staring off at nothing. Nothing at all.

Zaeed grumbled, "The fuck's going on in here?"

Mordin shook his head. "Unknown. Atmosphere unsettling. Foreboding. Guards and inmates similar."

Garrus wondered, "Think they're indoctrinated somehow? Looks like they might be."

Legion speculated, "Organic indoctrination may be probable, given Jack's severe suffering and trauma. We observe numerous parallels between this indoctrination, and influence from the Old Machines."

I really hoped that Jack wasn't actually giving off some sort of indoctrination signal this way. Because something like that was bound to influence the Normandy and everyone else aboard. So it couldn't have been that. It couldn't have been that at all. Otherwise, we were all at risk.

Everyone except Shepard, of course.

We soon arrived to the end of the hall, with a sign on the wall designating this location as the Outprocessing entrance. As we entered the plain, unremarkable area, well-lit and roomy, I spotted another door on the opposite side. Across. Yet as we walked over there, the nearby technician claimed that our actual destination was through that door.

Shepard spotted the thick writing on the wall quite literally designating this location as Outprocessing.

She approached the far door anyway, opening it. And then going no further. Stopping us as well.

Staring at the inside of another cell. Not an actual room at all.

Warden Kuril's voice sounded over the intercom. "My apologies, Shepard. You're more valuable as a prisoner than a customer. Drop your weapons and proceed into this open cell. You will not be harmed."

Having expected this, Shepard signaled for us to take cover along the nearby desks and tables. We hurried to do so; she activated her tactical cloak, expecting an ambush from the hallway.

Kuril knew we weren't going to cooperate. "Activate systems!"

Several prison guards burst through the opposite door.

Getting those shields down—Garrus and I chained our Overload strikes against them. Stripping those defenses away. Health open and exposed, Mordin and Zaeed burned them away: inferno grenades and Incinerate shots made short work of them.

As the mechs attempted to move in next, Legion took action. Hacking the units straightaway, it sent the machines right back out into the hall. Leading the way to the supermax wing. We all followed them, watching as Legion's hacked mechs attacked the guards in our way. Pushing past them to get to the next door, the next area overlooking the cryo chamber where Jack was, right outside the full panel windows.

A lone technician stood in our way, just by the ship's security controls.

Before he could shoot at us with his meager weapon, Shepard ended him. Firing a single shot from her pistol. Right through his eyes. He collapsed to the ground, falling out over the metallic surface, gone.

Shepard led the way to the control panel.

Just below, outside the window, was a raised platform. The cryostasis chamber was there, plain to see.

I knew—"If we hack that control, every door on the cellblock opens. We can't predict how dangerous the inmates will be once they're able to run free. They might wake up, like those guards did back there."

Mordin also knew—"However, required if we want to get Jack out of stasis."

Shepard hacked the controls. "Expect chaos. Stay on your guard."

Another crane moved from the nearby wall, pulling the chamber up from the platform. Nearby YMIR mechs activated in a sudden alarm, watching the crane move; pulling Jack up from that cold, cold mist, revealing her form there, her neck and scarred limbs locked to the metal.

Shaved head with sharp, symmetrical, barbered spots of clean scalp, and several tattoos per Zaeed's speculations, indeed, but no further—I wasn't surprised by the rest, by the black motorcycle vest she wore, sleeveless style revealing her relatively thin arms sleeved by those tattoos everywhere. Baggy leather pants and combat boots to match, all-black, along with the severe eyeliner over her sight. Slowly waking, blinking, taking in this light, this awareness about her. Pure renegade, a maverick, and a punk.

She wasn't really what I expected…

Legion observed, "Jack is smaller than her reputation suggests."

Garrus agreed, "You can say that again…"

"Yeah, no shit," muttered Zaeed. "Proved me wrong, she did. I'll be damned."

Shepard hummed in a stern way. No doubt disapproving of Jack's skinhead tattoos over her biceps.

Fully awoken, Jack ripped free from the metal binding her to the chamber. One by one, she eviscerated herself from those restraints. She only lowered her wide, sculpted head once, before taking in her surroundings: the handful of YMIR mechs hulking toward her in warning. Intending to end her, swiftly.

Powerful biotics and kinetic barriers flaring, scowl twisted and snarling: Jack charged clear through the mechs in her way. Bolting ahead, Jack phased from one spot to the next. The massive collision in between detonated the YMIR mechs. Cutting clear through their defenses—shields, armor, and all. Detonating, exploding, the machines went off, taking down the other mechs with it.

Already, Jack was off and running into the cellblock, leaving this mess of flames and debris in her wake.

Shepard hurried through the nearest door. "Let's move—after her, now!"

Down the ramp we rushed to the next area, to where Jack's cryo chamber was. Surrounded by the flaming remains of those mechs, destroyed upon the scorched ground. We kept on following Shepard as she took the only path Jack could have used, leading out of this room. Past another hall, following the sounds of heavy fighting from the inmates and prison guards who'd clearly woken up from their strange inebriation before. Emergency-red lighting our way, the warden barked his orders over the intercom:

"All guards: restore order! Lethal force authorized! But don't kill Jack! Techs: lockdown! Lockdown!"

The entire ship shuddered in the midst of this chaos. Order breaking down, it seemed as if this place would go down with us still on it. We only had so much time to get Jack and leave this place alive.

As we reached a forced opening in the wall—broken through by Jack, more than likely—we had a view of the open area beneath the upper hallways. Cranes adrift, modular cell units destroyed: red lighting shined brighter from the raging flames. Smoke billowing everywhere, sight obscured, we saw and heard the prison guards fighting against the inmates, who'd all somehow procured their own weapons.

Shepard gestured for us to push through first, before activating her cloak once more.

The team and I ran ahead.

Taking cover along the odd spaces of shielding along the short bridges, or fallen cells, we worked with whatever we had in front of us. Trying to see through this smoke, this fire obscuring us, too stubborn.

Repeating the same process as before, we fought through these hostiles quickly as we could. Garrus and I removing those shields in our way. Mordin and Zaeed repeating the flames around us; increasing them exponentially, flaming the guards and flaying them alive. Legion dealing with the mechs, turning them against their masters. All with the added efficiency of Shepard's precision sniper shots—she remained farther behind us, finishing off anyone else in our way. Clearing our next paths forward.

Rushing through more halls, more open cell areas.

Killing more guards, and any inmates in our way. They were all expendable.

We followed Jack's trail of destruction, all while listening to the ship's computer warn us over the intercom about relevant damage. Hull breaches. Life support cutting off. No survivors, anywhere.

Eventually, we reached one final area.

Inmates screaming, running for their lives. Some taking cover.

Others were exposed, gunned down without remorse.

All from the single turian standing perched somewhere in a corner of the room, as if elevated above everyone, everything. Durable shields glowing as translucent blue over his armor, Warden Kuril remained perched there on his moral high ground. Sneering down at everyone else before him, as this chaotic red flared through these surroundings. More so once he continued to shoot these prisoners over and over, leaving none alive. Blood pooling out everywhere before him, thickening, he then turned his attention on us—firing a warning shot with his rifle. Making us all scatter into cover, for safety.

Shepard remained hidden in plain sight somewhere behind us. Cloaked in her own safety.

The warden couldn't see her.

He only boasted in her general direction, to no one—"You're valuable, Shepard. I could've sold you and lived like a king! But you're too much trouble. At least I can recapture Jack—!"

Reddened rage, berserk.

Quickness of a biotic charge phasing through flesh. Transporting someone from one spot to another.

Jack charged straight through Kuril's form. Collapsing him to the ground. Dead, already.

"Clean kill," spotted Mordin, whispering behind cover. "Simple. Saved us trouble of defeating him."

Crouching next to him, Zaeed nodded. "You got that right. Hell of a girl."

Jack then reappeared not too far away. Finding the rest of us hiding here together.

Glaring at us, teeth bared and growling, like a cornered animal.

Tattooed hands clawed in warning, preparation.

Mistrusting us. Biotics flaring around her form once more. About to attack us. About to provoke me.

Command echoing wide, Shepard called out to her, "Jack!"

Startled, Jack stopped.

Naturally, she couldn't see where Shepard was. She looked around and around. Trying to find the source of that powerful voice. Unable to spot even the glimmer of Shepard's cloak in this pervasive red lighting.

Jack demanded to know, "Who said my name? Where the fuck are you hiding?! Show yourself already!"

"My name is Commander Shepard. I'm here to recruit you for my team. We're not here to hurt you."

Some recognition softened her raspy voice—textured, scarred, and corroded from years of drugs and alcohol: "Shepard…?"

"That's right," confirmed Shepard. "You know who I am. Maybe you've heard of me."

Tremors from more explosions throughout the ship shook our immediate area; uncaring, Jack continued to stand there, thinking. Remembering: "Yeah, I've heard of you… Why the hell is someone from the Alliance trying to get me on their team? You seriously think I belong in the fucking military? Is that it?"

"I'm not with the Alliance for this mission. I'm putting together a team to take down the Collectors. I can tell you all about it later. But right now, this ship is going down in flames. We have to get out of here."

"No way!" argued Jack. "If you want me on your team, then you'd better give me more than that. I don't give a shit about this ship. I don't give a damn about dying. Because if I go down, you're all going with me! So either put more on the table and make this worth my while—or get ready to die. You saw what I'm capable of. Screw this up and you're my next target…wherever the hell you are."

Voice echoing wider, higher from her vantage point somewhere, Shepard warned her, "Jack, don't be stupid. I have my sniper rifle trained on you—right now. The second I pull this trigger, you're dead. Doesn't matter to me whether you care about dying or not. If you threaten me again, I will end you."

This had to be a bluff. It must have been. She had stressed the importance of bringing Jack in alive.

Jack didn't know the same. Clearly, she had heard the tales of Shepard's skill as a sniper, as an infiltrator. She faltered somewhat under the weight of those words. That warning from the Savior of the Citadel.

Saving face—"Why would you do that if you want me on your team? That doesn't make any sense…"

"That depends on you. We're in the middle of a negotiation now. Give me your terms."

"Yeah, and you have the upper-hand!"

"Thanks for pointing that out," mocked Shepard. "You're also wasting time. Tell me what you want. And be reasonable about this. If you go overboard, I'm shutting this down. So don't fucking test me."

Sour in her lesser bargaining position, Jack glanced around this flaming space littered with corpses.

The only real item of interest…was the sight of the rest of us taking cover not too far away from her.

Jack spoke up, "Tell your people to get their asses out here. One at a time. I wanna look at them myself."

The others glanced at me in worry. At my uniform. This logo over my chest.

Grimacing, I muttered out, "Shit…"

Shepard had to have seen this coming. "Have it your way. Everyone, introduce yourselves. One by one."

Unspoken, we each understood the inherent order to go in. More or less.

Garrus took his chances and emerged from cover first. "Hey there, Jack," he tried. "The name's Garrus. Garrus Vakarian. I…used to be with C-Sec a while back. Now I'm on the commander's team. I was with her before when she defeated Saren. I, err, hope we can get along just fine. If you're up for it, that is."

Narrowing her eyes, Jack seemed to recognize him, too. "Bird-face who saved the Council. I remember you." She pointed off to the side. "You're fine, I guess. You can go over there." As Garrus followed her instructions, Jack queried: "Right, who's next?"

Non-threatening, Mordin followed. "Nice to meet you, Jack. Mordin Solus. Doctor, former STG. Had own clinic on Omega treating patients when Shepard found me, recruited me. Haven't been on team for very long, but hopeful about prospects. Would like to get to know you. Perhaps discuss strength of biotics. Possible strain on body, aftereffects. May recommend methods to alleviate pains from overexertion."

"That's…interesting," commented Jack, somewhat swayed by him. "I'll think about it. Go stand next to bird-face." Mordin also did as he was told. "I know there's more of you hiding back there. Come on!"

Trying not to grumble under his breath, Zaeed went next. "Yeah, so, I'm the ex-merc of the group. Name's Zaeed Massani. Bet you've never heard of me. Founded these Blue Suns motherfuckers who used to guard this place. That was twenty years ago. Probably before you were even born, kid."

Jack snorted. "Please. I'm twenty-four years old! Do I really look like a kid to you? Don't make me laugh!" She waved him off. "Get out of my face, grandpa. Go be with your friends." Holding back several choice words, Zaeed joined Garrus and Mordin. "Next!" Just as Legion made itself visible, Jack recoiled. "What the hell is this thing? Is that a geth!? Are you shitting me?"

"It's my personal synthetic assistant," lied Shepard.

"Oh." Jack…actually believed her? "Well, whatever. Can it talk?"

Legion said, "Greetings, Subject Jack. We are Legion, a terminal of the geth. It is…good to meet you."

"Huh… Okay, this is new. A real live geth's talking to me. I could get used to this."

Apprehensive, knowing what awaited, Legion took its time with walking over to the others.

Oddly patient, as if she knew I was the last person left, Jack waited for me to reveal myself.

Even though I trusted Shepard to handle this as needed, I hated having no other way out. Because we all knew what would happen the moment Jack saw the front of my uniform. Even with this ship's integrity failing by the second, our surroundings burning more and more, I couldn't make time move any faster.

Completely unprepared, I didn't know what else to do.

So I stood up, allowing Jack to see me…while I kept my back to her. For now.

Jack blurted out, "Whoa! Shepard, who's the babe on your team? Damn!"

I shut my eyes, neck burning already. Mortified. Knowing she was busy staring at my ass.

Had this been a lighter situation, I wagered that the others might have laughed. Right now, they didn't.

I had to speak for myself. Still refusing to face her—"Hello, Jack. My name is Miranda Lawson. I'm Shepard's second-in-command. And I'm a biotic, just like you."

In her pause, Jack appeared to also recognize me. Or at least my name.

"Another biotic? Sure, that's cool," she accepted. "So why aren't you looking at me? Something wrong with your face?"

I sighed and turned around. "No, there's nothing wrong with my face…"

Jack was so fixated on my face, in fact, that she failed to notice the rest about me. "Yeah, you don't say. I believe you." She ambled over to me. Combat boots, motorcycle vest, and baggy leather pants shifting. Her short stature quite unable to reach anywhere near my height over her, heels and all. "What, you scared of me? I know I took down that guy no problem. The damn warden, I mean. He was a real pain in the ass. He deserved it!"

"I agree with you," I said, hoping to placate her more. "He was an unscrupulous man. A slave trader."

"Un…scrupulous," repeated Jack. Slowly. Learning the word. "Gonna have to look that one up later. Pretty sure I can figure out what it means, since you called him a slave trader. He was the bad guy. Not me—"

And there it was.

There was the moment.

The moment when Jack made to gawk at my breasts, and found my loyalty branding my leather instead.

Splitting to violence, Jack's body glowed with her biotics, raging: "You're with fucking Cerberus—?!"

Right as she'd raised her voice, Shepard had locked this aim.

Firing at the ground near Jack's feet. Snapping Jack's attention back. Forcing her biotics to calm.

"I'm stopping you there, Jack. You're not allowed to attack my teammates. That isn't part of the deal."

If I didn't know any better, Shepard sounded closer to me than she was before. So much closer.

Jack couldn't tell the difference, yelling upward, "Bullshit! You lied to me! If you know who I am, then you know how Cerberus messed me up! There's no way I'm joining you! Not after you pulled this shit with me!" Baring her claws once more, she made up her mind: "You know what? Screw your damn deal! I'm taking you fuckers down with me." Eyes wild with fury, she was about to lunge right at me. "Starting with you. Cerberus bitch… I bet we could have lots of fun together before this ship blows up."

Garrus, Legion, Zaeed, and Mordin were about to draw their weapons.

I held my hand out to them. Stopping their attempts. They only would've made things worse.

I backed away instead. "Jack… Stop this. I'm not your enemy."

Callous, Jack laughed at me. "Oh, yeah. I'm gonna have tons of fun with you." Gritting her teeth, she gave me her worst warning, unforgiving: "This is personal." Stepping closer, matching my steps backward one for one, forward, she kept on—"I'm going to charge at you, see? Just once. Not bad enough to kill you. Yeah, I can tell how strong your shields are. How much you can take. So I'll hit you hard enough to bring you to your knees. Keep you from fighting back; wasting more of our precious time together. And then? Then, I'm gonna make you scream for me. While this ship. Burns. Down…" The back of my heel reached a wall. Forcing me to stop. "Think we can go out with a bang? If you know what I mean… There's no sound in space, so no one will hear you while you die. That sounds perfect to me…"

I could have fought back.

I could have defended myself.

I could have sent a warp strike against her kinetic barriers, disintegrating them.

But that was all I could have done—without going overboard. Either way, Jack would have promptly charged at me. Killing me outright. Instead of holding herself back, as she'd threatened to do.

As an explosion went off somewhere overhead, shaking me to my core, I maintained my composure.

I remembered my orders. My direct orders from Shepard to bring this crazed lunatic back alive.

And so I could only stare Jack down while she gave me that sick grin of hers; while she again charged her biotics. Zeroing in on me. Aiming her velocity at me. Charging right at me.

But in those seconds between Jack charging up and attacking, something shifted.

Something changed.

Glimmer of the surrounding emergency-red reflecting off of something. Someone. In between us.

Still cloaked, Shepard stepped somewhere in front of me. Guarding me. Shielding me with her body—

Right as Jack charged forward, into her, instead of me.

"Shepard!"

Split seconds of speed, of change.

I only blinked and Jack had sent Shepard flying elsewhere. Unable to take the same as me. Cracking straight through that glass of her, breaking her cannon. Breaking her body. Very nearly breaking Shepard's spirit as she landed upon the ground, hard. Bones so broken I'd heard them split and crack from her skeleton upon Jack's collision; upon falling to the ground; skidding to a stop. That she didn't even make a sound made me assume the worst. Made me feel the absolute worst. Just the phasing sounds from her cloak deactivating had reached me. Her crumpled form lay there, somewhere too far away from me. Breaking me as she twitched in place. Unable to get up at all.

Mind shutting off, emotions taking over—the red in my eyes grew harsher than the lights around.

Fearful all of a sudden, Jack tried to back away from me. "Holy shit—"

Biotics lashing her through her barriers, grabbing her—

I raised her up, threw her higher. Slamming her against the fucking wall. High up. Way up. Making sure she stared right down at me, immobilized as she was. Making sure that Shepard could see me make an example out of this reckless fool. This scared little child now staring down at me with this fear. This same fear she should have given me before, instead of having the gall to assume she could cross me—and get away with it.

"Jack, you've made a terrible mistake," I taunted. "You should have stopped while you were ahead!"

Face contorting in pain, Jack made her pathetic attempts to reach me: "Hey, come on, Miranda…!"

"Don't bother. In fact, I should correct myself: you've made a fatal mistake! I've had enough of you…"

Repeating Jack's trauma—on purpose, not on purpose—I rammed her against the wall again. And again. Over and over again, pulling out these cries of anguish from her. Blood spattering against that wall, red blending into all, trailing thickly from her the black of her vest. Steadily disintegrating her barriers. Cutting off her defenses, her reactions by repeating this pain. Sending her right back to that justified mental state of her as that helpless, terrified little girl. Embodying her worst fears about Cerberus, in the flesh, if only because of her fucking mistake. Turning into everything she hated. Living in her hatred, even as those tears ran down her eyes, faster now. My own biotics ripping through to her limbs, coming close to tearing all of her scars wide open again. Nearing her end. Steadily, close enough. More suffering, more anguish, more punishment and retribution for her absolute nerve in daring to do what she had done.

Exactly as she deserved.

Somewhere, reaching me in this emergency, Shepard groused out in her own pain: "Miranda…stop! I said stop! Stand down!"

As if her very words controlled my biotics on their own, I stopped. Immediately. Shocked back to reality.

I had to obey her. No matter what.

I'd nearly forgotten myself…

Backing away now, I could only watch as Jack collapsed to the ground. Barely breathing at first. Forcing herself to hold on, to not fall into some comatose state…as she likely could have, should have. Too stubborn, too determined to stay alive, Jack refused to keep her eyes closed. She tried to stand instead.

As a terrible coincidence, yet another explosion went off somewhere up above.

An earthquake of sudden movement all around us—one of those giant cranes collapsed from up top, falling down. Creaking as disused metal engulfed in flames. About to end me this time.

Reacting quicker than I could in this state, Garrus pulled me backward all of a sudden.

Yet now this flaming crane separated Jack from me—and Shepard as well. The two of them marooned on that side of these fires, this fallen metal. I could but watch as Jack glared at me one last time. Almost faltering in her rare respect of my power. She then limped off in Shepard's direction. Using her waning powers to levitate Shepard's unconscious form from the ground. Taking Shepard away with her; disappearing off into another direction, through a door. Down a hallway. Off into the unknown.

Something about this energy she'd left behind: Jack wanted me to follow her.

Only me.

I saw a clear path to take the long way around this hazard in front of us.

Turning to the group, I found Mordin, Garrus, Legion, and Zaeed staring at me in worry. Weapons drawn now. Prepared to give chase, and to fight if needed. Whatever it took to get Shepard back safely.

"I'm counting on you, Miranda. I mean it."

I made up my mind—"Everyone, get back to the ship. Clear a path to the Normandy. I'm going to bring them back myself. Both of them. I have to do this on my own."

Zaeed sputtered, "Have you lost your mind?! That girl's dangerous! You're gonna face her alone?"

"Severe injuries," counseled Mordin. "Jack's capabilities limited. Should not be terrible threat. Not anymore. Problem with Cerberus, not with team as whole. Diplomacy, negotiations necessary."

Legion knew, "Subject Jack appeared to recognize Operator Lawson's name. This may be advantageous."

"Yes, I'll be fine," I stressed. "We don't have much time! Go, now! All of you!"

They still didn't want to let me do this.

Garrus was the one to say, "Yes, Ma'am!" Complying first. Rallying the others—"Come on, let's move!"

Reluctant, they each kept me in their sights as they ran off ahead. Clearing the path, as ordered.

As they left, I took this long way around the burning crane.

I quickly found the path that Jack had left behind in her wake: this clear line of darker red. This trail of blood. Fresh blood glimmering in the severe lighting of this place. Leading me through that door Jack had exited. Down this next hallway, filled with malfunctioning equipment from the ship, electrical fires sparking and worsening. Weak, useless sprinklers attempted to put out the fires. As much as that cresting water only bounced off of my shields, they did the same to the flames for all I knew. Pointless.

Almost as pointless as Shepard very nearly sacrificing herself for me.

Breathing normally now, able to process that event, I couldn't help this anger surfacing through me.

As much as her bones had broken on impact, my heart had followed. Breaking for her. Broken in panic.

Sniffling my emotions back, I kept breathing in and out. In and out. Blinking back this blur to my sight, reds and darker reds and open flames all blending into one as watercolors, at once opaque and obscure.

Because if I lost her somehow…I might as well have let myself die on this ship.

Burning out in space, exactly as Shepard had done before.

Jack included, all three of our lives were at stake here.

I tracked her down to another red-lit hallway. Darker. Emptier. Worse off than all the rest.

Knocked out and facing me, Shepard lay upon the ground. On her side. Eyes closed, her now-scarred face plastered over the metal beneath her. The black of her stealth suit absorbed every single shred of light in here. Refracting in shadows, the material of her clothes. Even the natural shimmer of her tied-back hair appeared dulled now. Dimmer. Darkened in this moment, in the other shadow crossing her.

That shadow from Jack's form. Standing, but just barely. Blood slipped down her tattooed skin. Starker shadows splayed across her face. The dark, dark red crafted the sculpt of her strong jaw; the bridge of her nose, perfectly straight; the thick roundness of her full lips, twisted into that sneer as she observed me. Taking me in with the sharpness of her eyes, russet-red in the hatred of this confrontation.

Spotting that gun in her hand, I knew what this was.

She had stolen Shepard's Razer pistol from her hip. Leaving the Widow folded over her back, ignored.

I let my hands twitch. Stopping myself from reaching for my own pistol, or my submachine gun.

Jack aimed that gun right at me. "Drop your guns, Princess. Now."

I complied with her demands. Removing both of my guns from my sides. Setting them down, away.

She knew damn well that I didn't need my weapons to take her out. Not while she was weakened.

"Don't even think about it," warned Jack. "The second you aim those biotics at me again, it's over. We're done! Either you or the commander gets a bullet. I'll be the one who gets to choose."

I had to keep my composure. I had to remember my orders this time. Or else.

"Tell me what you want, then. Why did you insist on us having this out?"

"Because I wanna see what you have to say. If you could seriously convince me to join Cerberus. Cerberus! After what they did to me, I should be dead in some ditch somewhere. But guess what? I survived! So what the hell makes you different from the rest of them? I bet you're all the same."

"We're not all the same," I insisted. "I believe you know this already. You know who I am. Don't you?"

Jack scoffed; trying to play it off. "Yeah, maybe. So what? That doesn't prove shit."

"On the contrary. It proves everything. Tell me where you know my name from. This is important."

Shifting her eyes from side to side, she recalled: "Miranda Lawson… I heard that name a bunch of times. Back on Pragia. The Teltin facility where they kept me locked up when I was a kid. Think I heard it the most not long before I escaped. The scientists and the guards were fucking terrified of you. Always paranoid you were gonna shut the place down. You're one of the Illusive Man's top dogs, aren't you?"

"Yes, Jack," I replied, glad that we had gotten somewhere. "That was me. This happened ten years ago. You were only fourteen or so. I was finally able to tour the facility for myself. I saw…how inhumane the conditions were. You and the other children didn't deserve that type of treatment."

Jack had to challenge my memory: "What didn't we deserve, huh? Prove to me you were there!"

A very specific memory: "There was a courtyard in the facility. Partly overrun with vegetation from the outside world. The scientists set up an arena there. They would order you to fight other children. You had to hurt them. Possibly even kill them." Jack remembered the same. Her face fell with the same memory. Her emotions rose up with the same recollection. "Any time you resisted, they would shock you. Make you feel pain. Discourage you from going against your murderous instincts. But whenever you successfully acted on those instincts, they would inject you with pleasurable narcotics. If anything, I'm certain you still get warm feelings in the middle of a fight. That is how they conditioned you to feel."

Possessed by that process, Jack inhaled deeply, admitting, "Yeah… Yeah, that sounds about right."

"They wouldn't let me talk to you. I wanted to interview you; assess your state of mind for myself. But I didn't need to see you to know those people had abused and tortured you. So I ordered them to shut the place down—as you said. I had my plans to get you and the other children to safety. I'd found it highly convenient that the breakout started not long after I gave that order. That was when you were able to escape. I wouldn't be surprised if the scientists and the guards orchestrated the so-called accident themselves."

"Probably… Felt like it. I guess it's good to know you were there. You…tried to help me out? Damn…"

Somewhere far off, I heard the sounds of the ship nearly collapsing in half. Imminent danger above all, and yet Jack didn't seem to care. Too muddied within her memories, her emotions, she couldn't find the will to worry about our situation. Whatever happened, we could only move forward once I pushed her.

I glanced down at Shepard on the ground. Still breathing. But still unconscious. Fully blacked out.

All I wanted was to collect her in my arms and get her to safety. Get her the medical care she needed.

I looked to Jack again. Her emotions seemed to be our way out. Yet something told me this was a risk.

A risk I needed to take in the middle of this emergency.

I brought up to her: "Jack, I'm aware that you entered the facility when you were four years old. You were there for ten years—all by your lonesome. What did the scientists tell you about your parents?"

Having lowered that pistol by now, Jack shared with me, "They said…that my parents were dead. That's why they took me in. Because I was supposed to be an orphan. They—didn't want me out on the streets. Not as a biotic kid, anyway. I was too valuable or whatever. I never really thought twice about it."

"I'm telling you now that information was a lie. Those people saw your potential and kidnapped you. Your parents are still alive, still searching for you. To this day, they never gave up on trying to find you."

Jack gripped the gun in her hand.

She growled in a controlled rage. Slamming her hand—and Shepard's pistol—against her forehead. Inflicting pain on herself to stop from getting too emotional in front of me; to stop from crying all of a sudden.

"What the fuck!?" she shouted. "Are you fucking serious? Why would you tell me that?! Are you lying!?"

"Jack," I tried. "I'm not lying to you. I swear, I'm not! Once we return to our ship, I can forward the proof to you. Straight from our Cerberus databases. It's all there."

Injuries and all, Jack paced around. "Shit…shit!" she cursed, over and over again. "Damnit, why would you do this to me? Why? Why the FUCK would you give me hope?! Actually making me regret this last stand bullshit, going out in a blaze of glory?" She stopped, raging at me—"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Yet another explosion went off somewhere, the aftershock rumbling beneath my feet. Both of us felt it.

But only Jack continued to flail.

Forcing my own calm, I urged her, "You don't have to keep living like this. You're not alone anymore." Jack didn't know where to aim Shepard's gun anymore. And not once—not once—had she aimed it at Shepard at all. "I know you look up to her. Commander Shepard. You don't have to say it. You don't have to deny it, either." Quieted once more, Jack wouldn't look at me. She stared off elsewhere. Listening with such grave intent. "I'm assuming you watched the vids. When she saved the Citadel. You watched her fight to save everyone. Wishing that someone would fight that hard for you, too." Jack shook her head in denial. Trying not to cry. But that was it. "I promise you…Shepard can be your champion. You just have to give her a chance. You have to give this team of ours a chance!"

"I wanna believe you. I want to…so bad. But the only thing I know is pain. Anger. Loss. Betrayal!"

"I know," I soothed. "Shepard is the same. I…am the same. And look where we are now." Listening as Jack still struggled to contain her emotions, I took this next risk. I walked over to her. Gently, I set my hand over her shoulder, blood and muscle and all. "I need you to believe in the commander. So long as you make a true effort with her, she won't fail you. You can trust her with your life. I give you my word."

By some miracle, Jack forced out the words, "Okay… Okay, fine. I'll go with you, all right? I'll join your damn team. I'll fucking go!"

"Thank you, Jack… Now, not to ruin the moment, but we have to get moving. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I get it. It's fine. Let's just get the hell out of here!"

Quickly, I retrieved my guns. Setting them back over my sides.

For the time being, Jack placed Shepard's pistol over her own hip. I had to trust her with this.

Yet when I returned to her, she expected the worst. Nearly flinching—Jack expected me to knock her out and take her with me that way. And I probably would have… But as I glanced at Shepard, I decided that would've been too cruel.

I ordered her instead, "Jack, I need you to conjure a biotic field. A bubble. Keep it over us as we escape the ship and get back to the Normandy. I won't take any chances with the debris that could fall on our heads as we're moving. This should also keep us safe from any fires in our way. Do you have enough energy to do this?"

Sounding winded already, Jack still said, "Yeah… Yeah, I can get us there. I can do it."

Not wanting to take any chances, I knelt down to Shepard on the ground.

Taking her in my arms.

Wishing I could take the time to stroke her face; to give in to these emotions nearly tearing me from the inside out. Yet I merely conveyed to Jack that I was ready—she grunted in her pained effort as she expanded a biotic field around us, the transparent blue glimmering in her might. I then followed her as she led the way, back the way we came. Through the single path filled with bodies of dead prisoners and prison guards, all lined as our guide. Guiding us in our team's footsteps; leading us back out to Purgatory's exit.

The whole way, I thanked my foresight. Constant barrages of falling ceilings, collapsed equipment, and sparking electrical fires frenzied our path. The ship's computer had long-since stopped blaring its doomsday warnings over the intercom, likely having lost all functionality by now.

Even though Jack was close to passing out—falling into the same comatose state that Shepard was in now—she pushed herself.

Pushing forward to this freedom.

Pushing onward, with her own hopes, her own renewed determination to live. Burning brighter than these flames that could have destroyed us, Jack gave her all for us. Keeping us safe as we finally reached the docking cradle leading to the ship, where Zaeed and the others waited for us. Looking relieved to see us—they hurried us through, and into the airlock. Onto the ship. In the nick of time, Joker took off, speeding us away from Purgatory's total and complete destruction.