Mass Effect: Reaper Dreams

Mirror Mirror (Part 2 of 2)

Olivia Free's work was enticing, definitely right up Jack's alley. Barbed wire and ink on soft flesh, DNA strands worked into coded machine language, weeping eyes, several transfigurations of the nipples, tongue, and clitoris, and through it all, the unrelenting deluge of pain-but it wasn't an artist who wallowed in her pain, rather she viewed pain as vessel of freedom, the key to escape the prison of perfunctory routine existence, particularly human existence.

The painting she'd seen before was here, this time the original, in full, glorious detail. The rendition of Shepard was incredible, so vivid, so true, except that this was a different Shepard, a younger Shepard, and above all, an angrier Shepard. At first glance, on the computer, Jack had assumed the obvious, but now that she saw the picture in person she realized what she had missed.

Though the sexual component was more visually present than ever, the expression on Shepard's face wasn't pleasure or satisfaction, but rather pain, extreme pain, and perhaps bitterness as well. The other woman in the picture, the one performing the sexual act upon Shepard, was nearly invisible, and yet she was ever present. It felt as if...

"You get this, don't you?" asked a man.

The voice was familiar, Jack began to turn.

"Do not," said Ramirez.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Jack.

"Following up on a lead for another client," said Ramirez. "You have to realize, you aren't the only one looking for Olivia Free."

Jack wished she had her gun on her. "If you try to cockblock me, I'll kill you."

Ramirez chuckled. "You will find that I am a lot more difficult to eliminate than some ex merc turned slaver."

"You've been following me," said Jack.

"Only the trail you have left behind," said Ramirez. "In fact, one finds it difficult to avoid. My client, my actual client, is concerned about this, and for you. Otherwise I would have avoided you like the plague. This is a dangerous place, Ms. Nought, especially for people who leave such wide wakes."

"Who is your client?" asked Jack.

Ramirez laughed. "Really, now."

Jack was frustrated. "You're fucking everything up by being here."

"Am I?" asked Ramirez. "What did you expect to do here, show up at this gallery, flash your bare breasts, and find someone who knows Olivia? Perhaps you think that the artist herself will be present? How foolish, how juvenile, how obvious. You lack the sophistication required for this work, Ms. Nought. You are but a blunt instrument, and you have exhausted your resources. Save yourself, go home and reach out to your former associates, or friends if you will."

"You keep beating this drum," said Jack. "I don't know why, but I'm not leaving until I get answers."

"As I suspected," said Ramirez. "In that case, I will throw you a bone, on the condition that you receive it with wariness."

"Just give it to me, asshole," said Jack.

"As I said, Olivia Free expresses her art in many forms, most sensual, as you can tell by the dancing chandeliers she designed."

"Dancing... oh, you mean the lanterns with the strippers in them," said Jack.

"Yes," said Ramirez. "On the north side of the city is an establishment known for its extreme acts of eroticism, but it is no mere strip bar, or brothel. It is seedy, yes, but seedy with an edge. It has turned seediness..."

Jack caught his meaning. "Into an art form."

"There is a rumor that Olivia frequents the establishment for inspiration," said Ramirez.