~ Remembrance is just another way to die ~

Blind Wanderer

Crows
Feasting on my heart
Scarring my eyes
And so I wander
The eternal maze
Of broken mirrors
Bleeding
Shards of hate
For redemption
is no more

.~'*'~.

22nd September 2185. Day 2 after Purgatory. Normandy.

The bitch's lips tremble.

Then pull back into an ugly ugly sneer. I gather my biotics. I will wipe that bloody sneer out of the cheerleader's perfect face!

Cerberus.

In front of my mind's eye she is all of them. She is the moron who's idea it was to build the facility in the first place. The guards who electroshocked me just to see me piss myself. This lab assistant cunt who injected the hardcore acid, making 8-year old me hallucinate I was eaten by thousands spiders. She is the doctors who watched with their uncaring eyes how I lay sobbing on the floor of my cell, trying to cringe away from my nightmares.

Hatred bubbles over. My hearing. My vision. It all got swallowed up by the raging need to kill her. Fuck biotics. I'll rip out her rotten heart with my bare hands!

I jump forward – and stop midway. Arms around my middle, pulling me back. Away from my righteous kill.

Instinctively, I grab for my biotics. Never mind. I can still tear her apart from a distance. I can still… The turian. No! He had been sitting on the Mess' table and now he is dragging her away, too; vanishing with her in her cabin.

I struggle harder, but those arms are like vices shackling me. We are moving, further and further away. Then the doors of the elevator shut in my face. Insults drip from my lips.

"For hell's sake, Kiddo, will you calm down?"

It's the merc. How did he dare…

I realize it is over. Inside, a part of me is howling in frustration. A fucking big part. The rest fights to subdue the terror his grip causes in me. His breath tickling my neck. Trapped. Helpless. Suddenly, I'm once again the little girl fighting against the restraints cutting her wrists, whimpering pathetically for them to stop hurting her.

I'm trembling.

With hate.

With fear.

This is the worst. So disgusting.

And then… the next moment he let go and I get spat back into reality. I'm in one of the cargo holds, the one that houses the ex-Blue Sun. He locks the door then sits down on his cot, snatching up some magazine, boots prodded on a folding chair. It's too much. The feel of humiliation is overwhelming; bursting out from me in a wave of uncontrollable rage.

I slam my fists against the closed door. Pain, crisp and sharp jolts up my arms, pushing aside the shame.

Hurt. Oh yes. Sweet, numbing hurt. My best and oldest friend.

I yell and hit again, drinking it all in. Let the pain take me apart and made me anew. Feel the warmth washing down my spine. But I'm not done. Not yet. There just too much that needs to get out. Maybe it will never be enough.

Hell, hurting myself is not enough.

I swirl around, seeking. Find that during all of this the merc is merely sitting there; unperturbed; as if I'm not even there, reading a fucking mag. Totally at ease. Unbe-fucking-livable. I don't know if I'm impressed or if this show of grit pisses me off even more. I feel like I need to destroy something. Anything.

Two steps and I'm at his desk, the battered Avenger winking at me. Only then he moves, pulling the rifle away before I can snatch it.

"Bloody hell no. Not the only girl that never let me down," he rumbles, focus already back on his mag. Instead he kicks the chair in my direction. I grab it and hurl it against the wall.

I rage.

I yell.

Again. And again.

Finally the cheap material gives way and breaks, pieces falling from my hands. I double over, breathing deeply. Think the worst is over. For one, I didn't even feel like killing anyone any longer. Not even the Cerberus cheerleader. What would be the point, anyway? She hadn't even been there. I just… want to curl up somewhere silent and dark and be left alone.

I lift my head. Massani is watching me, face like a mask made to scare people's pants off. I expect some old man's wise crap. Play nice. Get a grip. They are not your enemy. Blah, blah. Spare me.

Instead –

"Feel better?" he merely asks.

I nod and he tosses me a metal flask he pulls out from under his cot. I take a deep gulp. Fire burns down my throat. I cough.

"Fuck me, what's that? Krogan piss?"

"No. But have ya ever heard of Kahjehen sea slugs? See, they scrape off the excess secretion from their anal glands and..."

The nasty shit struggles to back up into my mouth again. I press my lips together. Barfing on the deck like a real badass. No thank you.

His face twitches into an even uglier grimace. Then I realize he is grinning. 'the fuck…

"Never had any real highland scotch, eh?" He asks and barks a laugh.

I gave him my darkest glare. You're so going to die in pain, it says. It bounces off from him like a handful of pills from a wall. What is wrong with this idiot? People fear me. And if they don't then they are at least weary. Hey, even Captain Buttercup is, and she looks like the kind that needs quite a load before bricking it. So why isn't he?

And why the hell do I even bloody care?

.~'*'~.

25th September 2185. Day 5 after Purgatory. Some shithole colony at the ass end of nowhere.

Screw this. Just fucking screw this.

Fresh air, for the first time after being locked away for over 10 months – and insects and zombies wherever I look.

I'm bunked down with Shepard behind a stack of crates containing prefab building components, those ugly weirdos pushing hard against our defense. At least I can finally do what I do best; killing things quickly and with much bloodshed. Something 'bout looking for the bright side in a turd, or such, I guess.

It is raining again and I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. Should have taken the offered armor, even if it would have slowed me down. Well, a good thing the shotgun doesn't mind a shaking hand. Just point in the general direction and bam!

I toss the blonde another clip. Then lean out of cover to unleash a shockwave that tears straight through the body of a Collector, flesh and bowls flopping to the ground with a juicy smack. Mhmm. Messy.

The wound in my arm hurts like fuck. I clench my jaw. Bitten by a zombie. Taking orders from Goldilocks. And to top it, I can't help wondering if those Cerberus morons will manage to get the only tolerable dipstick on that ship killed. Maybe it isn't too late to snatch a shuttle back to some hellhole and be done with all this bullshit.

Oh please, me helping to defend the universe against the big bad? Never laughed harder. What do I give a flying fuck if some space squids got it into their twisted robo heads to nuke everything with a pulse? Look, I've met my share of people, and surprise, surprise; assholes all along the way. It's not as if they don't have it coming. And Shepard is actually obsessed with saving every single one of those bums. Obsessed! What is wrong with that woman?

A little ahead the tank-grown krogan snatches one of those zombie things. He bellows, the creatures' head going one way and its body the other. I try not to think about the throbbing pain in my arm and just keep slaying whatever comes across my sight. Funny, but between the krogan juggernaut, the turian sniper and Shepard's aim laced with her crude biotics, I actually have to make an effort to get my share. That's really a new one for me. But then I'm not used to fight with military trained bodies either – or rather, to actually have them on the same side.

"Sniper at 45; balcony first floor," Shepard says into the comm.

"I'm on it."

I look up; just in time to watch dark goo splashing out said insects' head. Next to me Goldilocks snickers at something only she could hear.

"You wish, Vakarian."

The comm is silent. Private channel. Figures. But, gotta admit, the Alliance Commander and the turian sniper do work like a well-oiled machine, while the krogan and I rampage around them like free radicals in a storm.

The comm in my ear clicks.

"Three incoming flyers on your six, Shepard. Con shot's lined up for the middle."

"Affirmative. Jack?"

I give a start. "Yup. I see them."

I hurled a warping blast against the left Collector. Shit, I'm starting to get tired. And hungry. Fighting with biotics is hard work. Can only hope that Gardener has an extra portion on the stove already. The man had beamed at me like an nuclear incident when I asked him if there was anything left of that stew last night.

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL!"

Aww, this is going to be fun. They're harder to kill like that.

I release a full load of Katana fury into the face of a zombie that had made it past Grunt. Instead of glee I feel strangely sober about those idiot colonists too weak to defend themselves. Yeah great. Now Commander Awesome is infesting my mind with her nonsense, too. It's past time to be going. Even the likes of me have some dignity to preserve.

"Kill Shepard, but preserve her body!"

I exchange a look with Shepard whose face had paled.

Bloody past time indeed.

.~'*'~.

The pain in my arm had become worse.

Much worse.

I'm so dizzy I can barely stand. Bite me. I knew it. I'm turning into a fucking zombie and Shepard is just standing around, talking without end to one of the colony's few soldiers. More arguing than talking actually, and just a few minutes top, but it feels like hours. Okay and maybe she asked me if I'm alright. Maybe I told her to shove her concern up her tight little ass.

Then it happens.

Goodbye badassness. Hello disaster.

My legs give way and I fold like one of those stupid camping chairs. Before the ground hits my face, I'm yanked up again, a strong fingers digging into my upper arm. I stumble and bounce against an armored body. I grab for a shoulder. The iron grip on my arm shifts for my waist and I look up with a hiss. Hell forbid. The bloody merc is bloody smirking at me and I'm hanging there like a wet rag. Should have known. He's too fucking annoying to get himself killed.

"Whatcha starin' at, dipstick?"

"You look like somethin' not even the cat would drag in, asskicker."

No shit. "Mind your own, old fart," I growl with a glare, somehow finding the strength to stuff lots and lots of deranged maniac into it.

"Heh, or what? You're going to hurt me plenty?" He rasps and I'm suddenly painfully aware of his vicinity and the arm snaked around my bare waist. Dragging up things better left buried deep. Armor. I need armor.

"I…" I begin and then my eyes roll back into my head.

Fuck me.

I think his touch felt good somehow.