A/N: So yeah, this story hasn't been abandoned yet. Just went through a rough patch in life and I couldn't find any motivation and inspiration to write. But I'm over that now, and I have to make this shit up to you guys. So rest assured, this story will see completion before the first 6 months of the year passes by!
Chapter 9: The storm on the horizon.
If a single word could describe where Gemini stood now, it was monotony. The white corridors extended as far as the eye could see from all four directions of the corridors. It must be an optical illusion, he considered, no way they go that far. The ceiling, floor and walls were all decked with the same luminescent square shaped paneling that seemed to glow softly with white light. Right now though, there were splotches of crimson haze as the blood dripped from where it splattered on the wall.
"Gemini." He said out loud, mulling the name on his tongue like a fine wine. "Gemini. Gemini. Gemini. Hmmm…" He was soaked from head to toe in blood, the shotgun smoking in his hand. "I suppose it will have to do… For now, anyway."
The scene around him was horrifying; Gore splattered the otherwise pristine white of the hallway, the bodies of the dead all but completely unrecognizable as human. Taking his time to look over his surroundings, he sighed. "Maybe I should've asked more questions before I killed them all?" He looked at each direction thoughtfully, and then resigning himself with a shrug.
There was still the question though, other than who he was. It was 'what he was?' He looked down at his bare chest to where the scars idly glowed against his blood streaked skin. Casually, he drew out the knife, and ran it over his chest. The blade ran deep and his blood started to gush. He winced from the pain but managed to keep standing. Sure enough, after several seconds, he felt the blazing heat overtake him, and slowly but surely, the wound started to mend itself. Tendrils of flesh stretched out across the wound to interlace with each other and pulling the wound shut. He smirked as the healing finished and the skin started to close. "Interesting." He was no mere human; that much was for certain. 'But to what extent?' he wondered.
It also raised more questions: was he like this from the beginning, which was why he was abducted? Or was he given these abilities through the torture rendered upon him? If so, why? Whatever it was, somebody in this damn place better have some answers. There were just too many questions involved; too many to even wrap his head around. And he was starting to see things in his mind… Shadows of past lives not his.
There were memories, images, faces, events that he just couldn't put a label on. One moment he was at a party surrounded by laughing friends, the next he was huddling behind a crate while gunfire seemed to pour like a hail storm. He tried to arrange them chronologically as best as he could, but some pieces just didn't seem to fit, like he was trying to recreate a single picture out of several different jig saw puzzle sets.
He has been considering his deteriorating mental state. To say he was 'teetering' would be an understatement. He had just killed 8 people in cold blood, two of which were defenseless civilians. He'd be lying of course, if he said it didn't bother him. But he just couldn't blame himself the pleasure. He remembers… Knows... That he hates Cerberus. Oh, he hates them with a passion. But why did he hate them? It felt like he hated them for more than his torture; like a deep seated grudge, years in the making. This was something carried over from his past life. He let his thoughts wander when a strange sensation pulsed through his body.
That woman's blood still felt warm on him.
So warm, he thought to himself. He felt a strange as he looked at the crimson that glazed his arms. So deliciously warm. He raised one of his hands to his face and licked the blood off it slowly, sending chills down his spine. His mind flashed with images of the dead and dying, all by his hand. It was overpowering. His head swirled with whispers and white noise; a thousand voices clamoring for his attention, all wanting the same things.
More blood…
More violence…
More death…
His vision blurred, his mind sweetly intoxicated by the sensation.
He must have more… More! More sweet violence to feed his base desires.
"Yes…" He whispered to himself, admiring all the blood around him. He eyed the remains of the woman and his heart fluttered at the sight of the gore. Slowly, hesitantly kneeling down and tracing a finger on the outlines of her pale, terrified face. "Death is beautiful."
It was when the words left his mouth that a small, arguably rational portion of his mind discovered something about the rest himself: He was sick in the head. He pushed the voices to the back of his mind and thought hard, trying to remember anything.
Was he naturally this violent, even before this happened to him? He killed all these people without a second thought. Was he some kind of psychopathic killer? There were too many questions again. Damn, maybe he deserved everything that happened to him for all he knew.
Maybe.
He reluctantly stood up and backed away from the woman's corpse. He would have to… figure this out later, whatever this was. It didn't change the fact that these people raped him of everything he had, leaving him with nothing but a mess of memories and a single name. Right now, he would call himself Gemini; it was a start. He sat on the floor in the middle of the intersection as he thought which direction he should take.
There was a high pitched buzzing noise. At first he thought he was hearing things again and started to rub his temple. It rang again, and the way it echoed in the hall way made certain the source was external.
Gemini looked over his shoulder to see that one of the dead guard's omnitool was lighting up. Making his way to the guard, he could hear the urgent chatter coming from it.
"-epeat: What is your status? Over." Came the near garbled voice from the device.
With trepidation, he ran his hand over the holo interface and the orange panels of light shifted, indicating he had activated something. A gruff voice came from the omnitool, anxiety clear. "It's about damn time Jeffries! You were due on the portside tech wing half an hour ago!" the voice barked. "I want a stat-rep, now!"
"Well, I'm no doctor…" Gemini started, crouched over the glowing omnitool. "But I believe the layman's term would be: fucked."
"What the-? Who is this!"
"Honestly? I don't know, I was trying to find that out for myself…" He replied casually, scratching the back of his head, "The lady called me 'Gemini' though, so let's go with that. Who are you?"
"Gemini? But you should be…" There was a long, somber silence; he could just barely hear the whispers in the background. It was almost a minute before the voice replied to him. "This is Reynolds, Chief of Security."
Gemini smirked in amusement; the man was obviously stalling for time, no doubt rallying men to storm into his position. "So you know who I am… Interesting." He observed as he casually twirled a pistol he found on the dead man's belt. "What else do you know?"
"My men, the scientists…"Chief Reynolds voice sounded strained. "What did you do to them?"
"Tsk-tsk, manners…" he said, waggling a finger at the device. "I asked you a question first."
There was another long silence, before the man hastily replied. "I can't tell you anything."
"An answer's an answer I guess…"
"What did you do to my people?"
"I killed them all." He said, looking over his shoulder to where they lie. "Violently." He added casually, as if it made a difference. There was a long silence; the information sunk like a heavy lead weight to the man he was talking to. Gemini cleared his throat, "So, Chief, are you going to save me the trouble of coming for you or are you going to have to make me walk?"
The reply came in the blaring of sirens from all directions followed by the automated voice of a PSA. "Attention! Attention! Code Blue! I repeat: Code Blue! All staff, please proceed to designated stations! This is not a drill!"
Gemini smirked. That took longer than expected.
The message was looping, and Chief Reynolds voice came on once again on the Omnitool. "There's no escape; Resist and we will be forced to hurt you."
"Please, what more can you do to me?" Gemini said, not giving the man a chance to reply as he deactivated the omnitool. Fiddling with the man's gauntlet, he liberated him of it and placed it on his own arm. With a flick of his wrist, the omnitool reactivated, sheathing his left hand in an orange glove of luminescent panels, streaming data from air humidity to his own vital signs. "This could be useful."
He turned his head as he heard the familiar pitter-patter of armored boots over the noise, rushing to him from the distance. Grunting as the PSA message repeated itself in the background, Gemini stood to attention and idly did some stretches. In his head, a thousand voices whispered to him, demanding blood. He smiled, reveling in it like a mantra. Blood, glorious blood. He'd paint these white walls crimson and slake his thirst on it. The voices were still slowly rising though, and his smile slowly turned into a frown as he felt his head throb, the sound growing into a cacophony of noise and static. The voices weren't whispers anymore, but boomed in his head. Something was terribly wrong.
IT HEARS US.
IT IS AWARE OF OUR PRESENCE.
INTERESTING.
IS IT WORTHY?
IT REMAINS TO BE SEEN.
Dropping to one knee and clutching his head in pain, Gemini clenched his teeth and tried desperately to tough out the noise. This wasn't just voices in his head anymore, he realized. Something was in his head with him. "What? Who- Who are you?" He briefly caught a glimpse of the patrol of Cerberus Troopers rounding the corner, weapons drawn, when his vision slowly started to fade out in a blinding orange light.
FOOLISH LITTLE THING. The voices rang out in unison. DO NOT RESIST.
He was knocked out of the trance when several heavily armed Cerberus troopers pinned him face down to the floor. "Wha.. What the hell!" He was answered by a boot stomping the back of his head, giving him a mouthful of floor.
"Do not resist!" One of the guards commanded gruffly as he tried in vain to cuff him. "Damn it, somebody slap on the biotic dampeners on this fucker!"
A grin was etched onto the bleeding lips of Gemini as a soft blue glow surrounded him. "How about no?" The biotic field crackled and a shockwave blasted the assault troopers off of him. "And fuck you, too." He got up slowly as the dazed troopers struggled to find their bearing, cracking his knuckles as he did so.
The trooper who had stomped on the back of his head was the first to get up, whipping out an electrified combat knife from his back. Arching an eyebrow, Gemini easily sidestepped the man's wild slashes. The trooper roared and lunged to skewer him in the heart, but he sidestepped and caught the man's wrist. A well placed punch in the elbow while pulling on his wrist snapped the man's arm like a twig. He followed this up with a knee to the gut, before his fists glowed with biotic energies and slammed them sides of the man's head, crushing his helmet inwards and splattering blood and brain matter everywhere. Before the lifeless corpse could fall to the ground, the rest of the squad drew out their own blades.
"Oh you guys." Gemini taunted as the troopers rushed him.
The security HQ was in a flurry of activity. Men and women scrambled, officers yelling out orders over one another and directing squadrons of Cerberus Troopers to their stations. The armory was raided for all the guns it had as the techs worked tirelessly to boot up all the security mechs.
"I don't see what the big deal is." One engineer mused as he grabbed a turret module from the rack. "It's just one guy, right?"
"Yeah, but Johnson over at echo squad said this was one mean son of a bitch we're dealing with." Replied his colleague.
"Mean enough to mobilize the entire Atlas division?"
"So the story goes."
"Damn. Well anyway, we're good to go."
Chief Reynolds had a dour look on his craggy face as he sat behind his desk, running a hand through his thin hair in stress. The large terminal in front of him showed over a dozen camera feeds as he monitored the operation against subject-01. His elite troops, hardened veterans of dozens of operations, were taken apart as if they were rookie grunts. He didn't even know what he was looking at. He should've looked into that Alliance retirement plan when he had the chance, but no, he wanted more action in his twilight years. The job description sounded simple enough when he was hired: chief security outfit in a Cerberus research station. Now he was faced with the mother of all worst case scenarios. Were it up to him, he would've vented the whole sector Gemini was running loose in, but the higher ups needed him alive. He watched the monitor as the last man on alpha squadron went down, Gemini punching a hole through him, armor and all. The man looked up towards the camera and smiled, throwing one of the combat blades into it. "Shit…" He muttered as the vid turned static. He closed the feed and hailed three of his lieutenants. "Folger, Combes, Neilsen get in here!"
The three men, all garbed in Centurion armor quickly rushed into his office. They all snapped to attention in front of his desk and held their hands behind their backs.
"Orders, chief?" One of the men replied.
"Folger, round up your boys and coordinate with Combes and his delta squadron!" he barked, bringing up more security feeds trying to find Gemini. "The brass needs this thing alive, but they didn't say in what status. Mutilate the freak if you have to; just bring him back with a pulse!"
"Sir yes, sir!" The two replied with a salute before hurrying out, leaving Neilsen to wait for his orders.
"Neilsen! You and your boys are on baby-sitting duty. You take foxtrot squadron and secure the director's office!" He said, eyes still on the vid feeds, looking for any sign of the escaped experiment.
"Sir yes, sir!" Neilsen replied, leaving with a salute.
Reynolds ran his hand through his thinning hair again, puffing out a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.
Zaeed looked at the odds and sized up his opponents, taking a puff from his cigar. Looking down at what he had to work with, he knew this was going to be another 'do or die' situation. He was fine with that. The stand-off was intense; nobody dared move or say anything out of line. There was too much at stake, and one wrong move could mean the end for each and every one of them. Chewing on the end of the cigar a little bit, the grizzled merc's craggy face broke into a smirk for a split-second. It went all but unnoticed when he resumed his dead-pan expression. The room was quiet and all eyes fell on him.
It was time.
"All in." The veteran announced as he lazily shoved his pile of chips onto the center of the table. He took the cigar from his mouth and laid it on the ashtray next to him. The smoke was strong and bitter as it hung over the room, and he washed it down with a sip of his whiskey, placing his hand face down on the table before him. There was a moment of silent tension as the players around the table analyzed the situation. Thane leaned forward, stone faced as he looked Zaeed in the eye. The merc merely smirked back at him, facing Thane's piercing gaze and puffed on his cigar again. "There a reason you're eye-balling me, boy?" Poker night was a favorite down time among the crew, and Zaeed always hosted the table where the big credits would change hands.
"Hardly." The assassin replied, not breaking eye contact. Being the chip leader, Thane only needed two-thirds of his total to match Zaeed's all or nothing. After a moment, he leaned back and his gaze dropped towards the credits riding on the gamble, looking thoughtful. Though in fairness, Thane hardly looked anything else most of the time. He pushed his chips into the center to mix with Zaeed's in a sea of color. "Call." Thane's style was that of his craft, cold and calculated. He almost always never committed unless he was sure to come out on top, even when he had nothing to lose. The irony was not lost among those present.
Needless to say, this gave Zaeed pause for thought. He eyed the Drell, weighing him in his mind, but Thane just stared blankly at the pile of chips on the table, resting on his elbows and fingers interlaced in front of him. Looks like this was going to be a battle hard fought, he thought, taking another puff at his cigar. That or he's going to be out of a couple of thousand credits. Either way, it was bound to get interesting. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Krios?"
"One thousand, one hundred and twenty three to three hundred and thirty four" Thane said, still looking at the chips.
"Eh?" Zaeed replied, leaning back and kicking his feet up.
"It's the number of times I've won and lost in this game."
"Heh, cocky bastard." Zaeed smirked, "Better make that three hundred and thirty five, then."
Grunt slammed the table with his fist, causing bottles of drinks to topple and sending some of the towers of chips tumbling down. "Quiet!" He roared, "I'm thinking here." He was looking intently at the cards in his hand and the cards on the table.
"No wonder it's straining you so much." Zaeed retorted, unperturbed as he picked up his bottle of whiskey before it rolled to the floor. Luckily the cap was on, and none of the alcohol spilled out. "This isn't really a kid's game, you know?"
"You're going to eat those words, old man." Grunt said, putting the cards down. Despite his immaturity, Grunt was bred from the genes of the greatest krogan warlords to have ever lived, giving him an almost innate strategic nature. Behind his loudness, there lies the sound mind of a master tactician. With a sweep of one mighty arm, he pushed his chips to mingle with the rest. "Call." Never mind the fact that he was on his 5th bottle of ryncol.
Zaeed puffed on his cigar and turned to the rest of the table, pointing to Grunt with his thumb. "Get a load of this joker."
"Let's see how far that mouth of yours gets you." Grunt scoffed, slamming down another ryncol.
Mordin raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, but gave away nothing more than that. He would have to take note that Grunt doesn't seem to take his alcohol well for future reference, if only to be prepared for any inevitable disagreements. He shuffled his cards absent mindedly in his hand, going through things in his head. Depending on the player, poker was either a gamble or a thinking game, and to Mordin Solus, it was very much the latter. He took into account all things; psyche, emotional status, temperament, upcoming occasions, the smallest change in body language, even the health status of an opponent. He looked down at his hand, as well as the cards on the table. All in all, he had a pair with a queen kicker. He took a quick glance at his opponents, none seem perturbed. Right now, the odds were not in his favor, and a more conservative approach was needed. He closed his eyes and threw down his cards into the center of the table, leaning back on his chair. "Fold."
Now Kenneth Donnelly was a far cry from Mordin's line of thought. He was more of a gambler, basing his moves on gut and sheer luck. To say that his luck hasn't been carrying him through the game was an understatement. Out of all of them, he had the smallest pile of chips, desperation clear in his eyes. His hand wasn't very good either, a pair with an ace kicker. All in all, he was having an internal struggle right now based on how much he could win if he got lucky, or just calling it a day and folding. The others had to keep from chuckling out loud; it was like reading an open book.
Gabby peeked over his shoulder and started to whisper something into Ken's ear. Ken merely grunted and brushed her aside, annoyance evident on his face. "Damn it woman, I know alright?"
"Fine!" Gabby said, throwing her hands up, "It's your money, Ken. Far be it for me to tell you how to lose it."
The rest of the table just shared looks and seemed to shrug in unison as the two continued to banter at each other. Mordin cleared his throat loudly, but the hint seemed to go over both of their heads, drowned in the sea of their argument. He did so again louder, but to no avail. "Excuse me." He said, raising a finger to try and catch the attention of one of them. But the two just kept bickering.
"What are they even doing up here?" Zaeed muttered to Thane as they both watched the show, "I mean don't they have a ship to fix?"
"They said they were ahead of schedule." Thane merely shrugged and sipped gingerly on his drink. He looked at them, and after some consideration, said "They seem to be going at it very eagerly, though."
"Well, they better get their own goddamn room becau-!"
The door opened and a blast of biotic energy surged towards them, knocking everyone off their feet and flipping the table over, sending chips flying everywhere. Jack stood, or rather wobbled, menacingly at the doorway, her face redder than a beet.
"Lisshen up yah fucks!" she began as they slowly got up to their feet. "I am the meanesh motherfucker on this sship!" She took a step forward and levitated Zaeed in the air before he could tackle her. "And you are all mah bitches!"
"Grahh! You bitch!" Zaeed growled as he bumped his head on a beam as he floated to the ceiling. "Krios! Grunt! A little help here!" No response. He turned his head to see Grunt knocked flat on his ass, snoring, an empty bottle of ryncol clutched firmly in his hand. Thane was nowhere to be seen, and Zaeed could swear the chips on the floor seemed less than before. He turned his head again, and even Mordin seemed to have made a quick exit. "Heh, I would've done the same thing." He muttered, before his head banged on the beam again. "For the love of-! Ow! Watch it you psychotic bitch!"
But Jack's attention was already on the other two people left in Zaeed's quarters. "You two!" She snapped, pointing a finger at them while she fought to hold herself steady. "You two and your goddamn sexual tension!"
Gabby merely squeaked, while Ken looked over his shoulder, hoping beyond hope that Jack was referring to somebody else.
"Yeah, you two! Pisshing me off with your damn dirty talk!" Jack's eyes were glazed over, then a sinister smile crept on her face, causing the two engineers to unconsciously back up towards the wall. "I fucking have to deal with that day and night!"
"Dirty talk?" Ken whimpered.
"Dirty talk!" Jack barked hysterically, causing the two to jump in fright. She slithered over to them, stopping mere feet away from the two. "But Jack here can help yah both…"
Ken and Gabby could practically see the booze oozing out of her pores as she crept in closer, mere inches from the both of them. "Errr.. Help us how?" Ken continued, while Gabby pinched him, muttering something about not egging Jack on.
"I wish to see you breed."
There was silence, save for Grunt's snoring.
"Uh-huh…" Ken replied after a few seconds, nodding sagely while Gabby could only stare in wild eyed horror. "EDI, could you blow the rape whistle please?"
"Shpoil shport." Jack said, waving her hand dismissively. The movement caused Zaeed to bang his head again with an audible clang, having been content to watch the events with interest.
"I'll kill you in your sleep, woman!" He barked, before banging his head again when Jack turned around.
"Who shaid that?" Jack mumbled cluelessly. "Hey wait! Where the fuck do you two think yer going?" She chased after the pair as they ran out the door. "ITSH BREEDING TIME!"
A few seconds later, Zaeed fell flat on his ass, landing right next to Grunt, who was snoring loudly this whole time. Not even bothering to get up, his arm reached for a lone cigar on the floor. Lighting it up, he took a few puffs and considered what he has been doing with his life up to this point.