~ Freefall into Dissolution ~

Through the Eye

Inked by blood
We cover up these
Jagged scars of our past
And so I run
Run and hide
From black-winged eyes
So open wide
Watching me
Leading
Demons into my mind

.~'*'~.

7th October 2185. The Galaxy's most beautiful pisshole.

Maybe those asari bitches really should put up a fat glowing warning sign: 'Welcome to fabulous Nos Astra – where we not only take your money, but also cheat you out of your soul along with your dignity and freedom.' Hard to believe that there is anything in this galaxy that makes Omega look like a good and honest place – and this is just my second day in this sunny forecourt to tentacleville.

My arm is still aching like a motherfucker. Screw those zombies! Dr. Hacksaw, uhh, Chakwas, had stiched me up quite nicely, then gave me an earful for running after Shepard without monitoring my calorie drain. I gave her the glare of death. She was not even impressed. I hate it when they are right. I had been stupid. I didn't pass out from the bite, but overexertion. Shit. I should have been better than this. But that kind of drawn-out combat is new to me. I'm a skirmisher. My fights are quick and violent. Simply hit 'em like a freight train and, bam, game over. No need for any more clever moves. Still, insects or not, Horizon had been a real battle; troops, co-op, tactics and all. Fuck. Once again, it's adapt or dead in a ditch.

More soldier, less lunatic on bad meds.

Yah. Maybe Vakarian does have a point.

I check if my sneer is still in place, because 'looking like a real mean bitch', is one the few things I'm really good at. Then keep trotting after Massani and Commander Uptight through the empty halls of the closed-for-maintenance Dantius Tower One as if we have all the right in the world to. So far it is working well. Disappointingly well. This is not what I understand by 'roughing up some mercs to find an assassin' and that particularly nosey Eclipse guard was hardly enough entertainment for all our troubles. Heh. Passing thirty floors at 1.2 g certainly cured him from any more ambitions to shoot at employee of the month.

Shaking my head, I eye the short woman striding along in this criminally outdated black leather coat, blond hair hidden below a grey bandana sporting little black rifles. Of all things. I still can't believe that this Van Helsing on a pirate raid actually pushed the merc out of the window. Since the moment she stepped out of her uniform this different Shepard is looking at the world through unnerving green eyes. Who would have thought. Hiding underneath all of Goldilocks' goodie-two-shoes Alliance bullshit is a little derailed psycho with an astonishing readiness for violence. Christ, that woman is a walking contradiction. Well, I'd rather deal with her than being forced to play nice and watch the turian and Team Cerberus detect their way into a crime-scene. To recruit a Justicar, the asari equivalent of an upright and code-abiding paladin. Excuse me, while I puke behind the next crate.

We reach the top floor. A chilling wind blows up here, but damn, this tower has quite a view. Night has descended on us but the cities' vibrant lights are illuminating the sky and the horizon and wherever I look like thousands of multi-colored stars. Perfect place to curl up with a six-pack of a beer and a nice line of Red Sand while watching for dawn to come. I turn away with a sigh. But no, we are here for business. What is only becoming of me?

Just a short hop. I look back at the maintenance bridge connecting both towers. Shepard is already over the bridge, sauntering towards the roof door, gun in hand. Just a short hop. A last longing glance for the vista. I follow Massani over the bridge. Close-up it appears even narrower than I thought. Wind pulls at me. I swallow and edge forward, the Katana bouncing on its holster strapped to my back. I simply have no head for heights.

Suddenly shouts erupt from somewhere behind me. Then gunfire. Massani skitters to a halt at the end of the bridge and draws his mattock rifle, shooting back. Combat. Finally. My lips curl up and head tugged in, I start to run, bullets dodging off my shields. I prepare a Barrier. Just a few more steps…

I recognize the flash of light a fraction of a second before the explosion booms behind me.

My feet lose contact. I got pushed towards the bridge's edge. Over the edge. I drop and my mind can't even form one coherent thought, let alone a shout. Arms flailing, I claw for the edge. Catch something sharp with my right hand. My fall comes to an abrupt halt and I feel as if my arm is yanked out of its socket. The bite wound in my upper arm isn't helping either. Metal cuts into my skin. Tears prick my eyes. From above I hear Massani shouting my name over bursts of gunfire. I think I yell back a 'Fuck them'. The muscles in my right arm strain as I fumble for hold with my left hand. I find none. Above I sense the gravity shift of several mass effect fields while from 3000 feet below, the ground is winking at me. I try again to get a better grip but gravity finally gets the better of me.

My fingers slip on my own blood.

There goes my hold.

Fuck this. Fucking fuck this.

My drop ends after one foot. Hands clasp my arm. I look up to find the merc leaning insanely far over the edge. I grab for him with my other hand, still too stunned to think. No one had ever done something like this. Risking his own life just to save mine.

Then he smirks, pulling me up.

"Careful, ass-kicker, it's windy up here."

.~'*'~.

Evening. A royally fucked-up day. Normandy.

The thoughts inside my mind chase their own tails. Pressure bubbles inside me. I itch all over.

I want to run. I want to scream.

I want to kill.

Damn it all to hell and back. I need to do something. Anything. I rub my face and drop on my cot. I had been down to the hangar but Shepard is already there beating the shit out of the punching bag. Next to impossible to get some solitary workout time down there. At first it was the turian, now it's Buttercup, both occupying the space for hours each. Someone apparently got lots and lots of frustration to vent. For a moment I consider… but no. The pirate had stayed at Dantius Towers and the Commander is back in full swing. I'm definitely not in the mood to put up with her nonsense right now.

Instead I exhale and reach deep inside. It would have to do. Not as if this is the first time I'm confined somewhere. Raw power runs through me, a feeling like getting seared from the inside out. Like a million razorblades grazing off your nerve tracts, cell by cell, layer by layer. I grit my teeth. So much power. So much strength. All mine; always there, always awaiting my silent command; never more than just one thought, one miniscule gesture away.

A tiny sphere, the size of a ping pong ball, appears above my palms, crackling and flickering blue to purple as it discharges into the air and turns nearby oxygen molecules into ozone. A second sphere. A third. I make them circle like electrons spinning around their invisible core. Sweat breaks out on my face. I add a fourth. Then, keeping the spheres in their orbits, I trap them inside a stasis bubble. They rotate faster. The exertion tugs on my concentration. I still feel myself becoming calmer; losing myself to their spin and the flicker of their lights.

Beautiful. There's so much beauty in destruction. This very moment when matter disintegrates, when it's ripped apart by a greater force, transcending energy to become nothingness. Those idiots out there have no idea. Beauty isn't watching a flower in bloom, it's watching it being consumed by flames. Beauty isn't the youthful face of an all innocent virgin, it's the sinner's scarred hide, telling the sordid tale of a life filled with failure.

I clap my palms together, forcing the biotic spheres to melt and vanish in a flash of light. I finally know what I have to do: I need to get rid of that debt.

Another deep breath. Within my mind I'm willing myself away.

See, everybody has this special place inside their head; this certain memory we drag out over and over again just to make our pathetic live bearable.

Mine is the Arena.

It was on Omega, back then when I was with still with those sorry idiots that call themselves Children of Lilith – as if any of Hell's demons would give two shits about their asses. Anyway, we needed money and this illustrious tournament going by the catchy and certainly telling name of 'Blood Games' down in district Kenzo seemed like just the deal. So I shaved my head, stripped down to the waist and slapped some Duct Tape over my nipples. Perfect. No shirt, no bra, no threat. We know how those dudes are wired. Yes we do.

Finally, it is my time. First round, one-on-one fight against another biotic. I'm new and my odds suck. Hehe. They have no fucking idea… I step into the fighting grounds and something familiar washes over me. It is... almost like those times. When they had drugged me up and pitched me against the other kids. Only this time there are no scientists watching with faces devoid of any emotion. No. I look up to the shadowed tiered seating area where a huge heaving beast is sprawling all around the arena, hooting and screaming for blood from hundreds of throats. Its thirst seems to dwarf even mine.

My opponent is a short, way too innocent looking youth in jeans and a faded brown leather jacket. Barely a man, with jet-black hair and pale skin, who seizes me up with a very adult and very victorious leer. I grin back, showing my empty hands, the blood stained sands of the arena spreading between us.

The signal sounds and I advance.

All blurs. Then it is over, far too soon; my fingers curling around the boy's neck, lifting him up, while he frantically tries to keep his bowels from slipping through his hands. He really really shouldn't have brought a knife.

I drop the dead body and around me the faceless crowd thunders. I'm like one of those ancient Roman gladiators, standing in midst of the coliseum and soaking in the spectator's rapt shouts. I raise my arms and their roar reverberates through me. Singing with the thrill of taking lives. Filling me with warmth and awe like I've never felt before.

I open my eyes, the ecstatic hum tugging and writhing in me like a living thing. No time like the present. Ugh. Now I'm actually starting to sound like her. Hell forbid.

I march up the stairs and stride into Massani's cabin. He's sitting on the edge of the cot, datapad in hand. I snatch the datapad from his grip and toss it on the deck. He looks first at the datapad then at me, raising his brows in question.

I'm on him before he has the chance to say something that might put me off. I press my fingers on his mouth and drop into his lap, straddling his thighs. Maybe I even growl a bit.

My fingers trade place with my mouth. I suck in his lips and give him some teeth. Just so he knows I mean business. Also helps to get me going, so shut the fuck up. I need my little routines to keep things sane and bearable. My nails dig into his scalp. I expect his hands to scoop up my shirt but he's not moving. I flash my tongue one last time and pull back, peeved. Does he think I have all night to waste?

He's eying me with the strangest look. Decidedly suspicious. "What the hell was that?" He grumbles.

I glare back. "A kiss, you fucking moron." Then poking my index finger hard at his chest I add, "I'm not going to owe you."

Suddenly he harrumphs, grabbing my left wrist. "Never said you do. And just so you know, that, that ain't no bloody kiss."

My glare darkens. He's going to suffer. Yes he is… Last thing I see is his face distorting into a grin and then he pulls me in by my wrist. Caught by surprise, I feel his lips on mine; a seeking, almost gentle touch, moving on with a slow, but building intent. Like shocked with a living wire, my body stiffens, an odd thrilling sensation fluttering in my guts then firing up my groins. I find my control again and slap him with my free hand. His other hand catches mine before I manage to hit him for a second time. He still keeps kissing me, the blasted idiot. My toes feel like curling up. I try to bite his tongue, but somehow I've forgotten how and he evades me every time. Then after an eternity he lets go of my mouth, but keeps his hold on my wrists.

"See?" He says with a wink. "This is a bloody kiss."

"Pff. Two words, Massani. Fucking lame." Did I sound breathless? Inconceivable!

"Why are you really here, Jack?"

"Just as I fucking told you. To get rid of my debt," I say, pulling my hands free.

"Bollocks."

I lock my jaw. Hell no. I was not going to say please. Instead of answering I drag my fingers over his shirt and down his chest. Feel his muscles jump as I reach his abdomen. He glowers at me but his body betrays his wants so easily. Men. Nothing but ever horny troglodytes.

I grin at him and lick my lips. "What does it matter? I'm doing you a favor here."

He snorts, surprisingly unimpressed about me stroking along his pants' crotch. Maybe I just have to rub a little harder and… And then he chuckles. More like a low rumble, coming from somewhere deep inside his chest, but definitely a sound of amusement.

I snatch my hand away. "What is it, old man? Don't tell me you'd rather get yourself some hairy ass?"

His amusement turns into bellowing laugher. "No. Just realizing you've got a lot of things left to learn… Princess."

Indignation sears my skin, clenched fists ready. "That's it, Massani! I'll make your life a living hell!"

"Oh, kiddo. How would I even know the difference?"

I hesitate. Only for a moment. It still is enough. He pulls me to his chest and then we fall.

I fall.

And nothing there to stop me this time.

Haven't I seen it before? The same old lessons, over and over again. Destroy, before they destroy you. Use, before they use you. And sex? Just another mean to an end. A single-minded, selfish struggle to get your rocks off. Preferably as quick as possible.

But he is not giving in.

My palms press hard against the naked, surprisingly solid chest. Feel uneven skin, scarred and inked over for too many times. Skin like battle-worn armor, bearing the essence of a life. Skin like mine. Fights lost. Fights won. And all those little fucks that tried so hard, but could not kill us.

God-fucking-dammit!

My hand curls into a fist. I'm drenched in sweat. My thighs feel like they are going to cramp any moment. I bounce around on top of him like a bloody moron, the sound of skin smacking against skin loud in my ears, and he's just showing me this mutilated grin and does not give in.

Maybe it's because he is old. Or maybe he's having a stroke. Maybe it's… My mind turns blank and I tense; eezo nodules firing at random, a flood of power surging inside and rocking me with ecstasy. I feel the need to scream, to release and scream away all the darkness trapped inside.

I bite down on my lip and watch myself disintegrate.

.~'*'~.

My eyes snap open.

I couldn't have nodded off for longer than perhaps five minutes. It is five too many. I wiggle out of the merc's blanket. For a moment I think he would wake but then he turns around and keeps frightening the Z's away with his snore.

I jump into my pants, grab the rest of my clothes and escape the cargo hold. The door closes behind me with a hiss and I exhale a fucking long breath.

On the other side of the aisle, the door opens and the krogan cranes his neck to look at me funny. I flip him off with a snarl and hasten down the stairs into my little private realm. Silent and dark, exactly how I like it. Even Shepard with her unholy urges to pry into issues not belonging to her is keeping out. Mostly at least.

I kick off the pants and crawl naked into my own cot wrapping the blanket around me. Sleep is not coming. I stare at the dark above me; my nails burrowing into my scarred palms.

There are many many things wrong with me.

But not this.

I know those assholes out there. People just don't give a rat's ass if some crazy fucked-up bitch falls off the wayside. My instincts perfectly tell me to get the hell outta here and destroy all those fucking weird feelings stuck inside before they turn against me.

The problem isn't that I let my guards slip and dozed off.

It's that I woke and realized I hadn't want to leave.