Mirror, Mirror, hanging there with that crack in your eye.
You make me stumble, make me blind.
Time after time, and line by line.
Take a look into my eyes, tell me what you see.
Take a look into my eyes, tell me, is it true?
Take a look into my eyes, when I look at you.
Take a look into my eyes, tell me, is it me, is it really me?
(Steve Clark, Joe Elliot, Rick Savage)
March 11th, 2188
Subject Zero
_________________________________
Jack cleared the last of her credits out of her account and closed it. She was all in now, walking the thin line, hanging her bare ass out there, or to be more specific to her current situation-tits to the wind. She stepped out of the toll center checked her right and left flanks, fingered her pistol, and crossed the street. A cold wind ripped into her skin as she cursed herself for not bringing a jacket. The doorman, a heavily armed Krogan, looked her up and down, collected her pistol, scanned her into the system, and let her pass. Just like that, she was dead broke.
The stairwell to Planet Heaven was impressive, it wound around an old brass pole decorated with street lamps taken from the 9th Arrondissement of 19th century Paris, and it was claimed (though never verified) that several of the lamps hailed from 32 rue Richer, the sight of the Folies Bergèr. It exuded class, but the people who came here were anything but classy. They were a motley assortment of mercenaries, sex workers, pirates, assassins, and thieves. Fortunately, Jack fit right in, or at least she looked the part.
Jack hadn't been to a party like this in ages, but if it was anything like a gig she once attended on Anhur, she was in for a crazy night. She reminded herself that she had to cut loose if she wanted to fit in, and if she got out of there alive, well, that was just bonus. As the stairwell came to an end, a warm dark opening enveloped her, sucking her into a misty twilight of glitter lit by pulsing purple stars. Faces and bodies, alien and human floated around her.
Music throbbed through her very bones as she made her way to the central room, which was hung by huge crystal lanterns strobing with light. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that some of these lanterns enclosed a blindfolded and nude Asari or Human dancer gyrating against the glass. Because the light was too bright to stare directly at them, Jack could only take in the dancers at a glance. It created a mystery effect, which was, no doubt, the intent of the designer.
Once she had finally given up at getting a good look at a dancer, she pushed her way through the crowd. Getting to the other end of the room was difficult. After nearly half an hour of being jostled back and forth, she finally reached the far right corner of the floor, which was fortunately all the way on the other side from the lavatories. A scanner beeped and the security guards let her through. The adjoining room was hot and littered with a maze of chairs and couches, several ensconced in dark corners where the bodies of casual lovers glistened with sweat.
Jack escaped the lounge area into the gallery, which had been her destination all along. The small room was filled with sculptures, paintings, holograms, and interactive menus. A variety of sounds chimed in the air as appreciators, many in an altered state, interacted with the displays. Worming her way through the various works of art, she found the series of paintings and sculptures she'd been seeking for days.
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.
"If you think I'm going there undercover, fuck off! I'm not climbing a pole or shaking my ass for anyone," said Jack.
Ramirez laughed. "Do not be ridiculous. No one would ever mistake you for a dancer. I am merely suggesting you go there as a customer, throw some credits around, ask some questions in your usual, crude manner."
Jack stared ahead. "I won't find anything that way, you know it. You just want me to shake the tree so you can catch something as it's falling out. Then you'll run with the prize, leave me high and dry."
"I will not, that I promise," said Ramirez. "As you say, shake the tree, and let us do the rest. Have no fear. My client does not abandon resources, not even blunt instruments."
"Asshole," muttered Jack.
"The account you just emptied," said Ramirez. "I have taken the liberty to re-open it. I have also deposited ten thousand credits in it. Consider those credits a retainer fee for your services."
"Just like that?" said Jack.
"Just like that," said Ramirez.
"What's the catch?" wondered Jack.
"The catch is that you do exactly as you are asked to do, and nothing more. If you make a contact, do not follow up. Bring the contact to me, and I will do a thorough investigation before we proceed. As I have noted, you have left a wide wake in your path. It may attract undue attention, the kind of attention we do not want," said Ramirez.
Jack bit her lip. She could go along with this, for now. It's all she had.
"Deal," she said.
"Do not shake my hand," said Ramirez.
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Jack.
Ramirez chuckled softly, then he was gone. Jack stared at the art for a few more minutes before she rejoined the central party. She took her time, enjoyed herself, danced a little, and left. She made sure nobody followed her back to her hotel. A quick check of her account confirmed that Ramirez was being straight. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was asleep. It was the first time she slept through the night since she'd come to Benning.
_________________________
Her alarm went off at 0527, which confused her at first because she'd set it for 0700. It took her a few seconds to shake off the grogginess, and then it hit her. It was her warning alarm. She'd tipped the hotel clerk an extra thirty credits per day per day to look out for her, let her know if anyone was coming her way. He'd just done his job by signaling her.
Jack had her escape route well planned. This hotel had ventilation shafts on the west side that were just large enough to squeeze her wiry frame through. She'd dislodged the vent above the sink, cleared the passage of hazards that would have sliced her open in an emergency scramble, and found the quickest route to the storage closet. The storage closet had a laundry shoot that dumped onto the first floor. From the laundry room she could be out the back, across the alley, and up one of the ladders to the rooftops in no time at all.
There were boots in the hallway by the time she was in the shaft, pulling the vent grill shut behind her with the cord she attached to it. She'd only had time to grab her pack and her gun. The rest of her stuff, her data pad, her clothes and extra gear, were still in the room. Jack slithered through the vent cursing under her breath. She was still covered in night sweat, and had nothing on but a pair of skivvies, but that wasn't even the worst part.
'Fucking shoes,' she thought to herself.
She didn't have any shoes, which was a real problem in a city as cluttered as Joughin. She thought about the alley and the rooftops, and all the debris and broken glass she might come across and cursed again. However, there was no going back. She could hear the intruders banging on the door of her room.
"City security, open up in the name of the law!" someone shouted.
Jack had no idea what the police could want with her. There were no reliable witnesses when she put down the Asari, and even if there were, it was unlikely the authorities had any interest in getting justice for a low life like Encia. Still, she wasn't going to stick around to find out. She dropped into the storage room, opened the laundry shoot, and dove in.
It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the bottom of the chute was clogged. The laundry backing up the shoot allowed for a soft stop, but it took her nearly a minute to kick the shoot clear. She managed to grab a handful of clothes for good measure. By the time she ran across the alley, several cops were already in the area. Fortunately, they were focused on the back entrance of the hotel and not the laundry door which didn't have a connection to the rest of the building as far as they knew. It was just pure fucking luck that Jack made it to the roof of the next building without being seen.
She was seven blocks away by the time she felt confident enough to slow down. She was off the rooftops now, and found some shelter so she could sit down and go through the clothes she'd grabbed. She managed to fit into a pair of pants, they were baggy on her, but she used a cord from her pack to secure them. In addition, she put on sweatshirt that was mixed into the mess.
Jack thought about what to do for some time. She knew it would be stupid to try to access the money in her account, so she let it alone. For all she knew, the information that Ramirez had given her was bad, but she had to go anyway. If Ramirez had the police in his pocket, she was fucked no matter how she cut it, so she might as well follow up on the lead he'd handed her. She was counting on the fact that he was cocky enough to feed her real information while he was working out his double cross.
It was just before noon when she figured out his play. The news around town was that a one of a kind painting was stolen from a private party the night before. The authorities had a suspect in the case and were looking into it.
'Fucking Ramirez set me up,' she thought.
Jack knew which painting had gone missing. She knew that she was on camera staring at the painting, that Ramirez had probably known just were to stand so the cameras couldn't identify him, and then there was the matter of the credits transferred to her account. It all looked bad for her. Of course she hadn't stolen the painting and eventually she'd be released, but Jack had no intention of spending three days in a cell while the trail went cold.
___________________________________
Jack reached her backup cache just after 1300. She'd left a bag of clothes, portable credits, and another piece in a locker near the transport station just in case. She dressed, wrapped herself in an overcoat and a bandana, counted out her cash, and made her way across town.
She reached the Tarnished Treasure just in time for the afternoon shift change. Jack watched the girls who worked the slow shift shuffle off to their various rides and routes home. After she found a good place to stash her coat and weapons, she hit the door, paid the cover charge, and entered the club. She was stopped just inside the entrance by a muscular woman who stared her down. The woman handed Jack a tape dispenser.
"Dim the headlights, bad boy, this isn't amateur night," she said.
Jack did as the woman asked and went inside. She found a dark corner and made herself inconspicuous. A few minutes later she had a drink in her hand, the first decent beer she'd tasted in months. It was all she could do not to inhale it as she took in the scene.
Jack had been around, seen her fair share of dives, but never anything like this. The Tarnished Treasure was a special kind of trash. Every dancer appeared to be a human female. There was no pretense of class, no aesthetic in outfits, and certainly no discretion. The art of the tease seemed to escape them. The pole dancing was outrageously bad, what little they wore when they hit the stage was discarded within seconds, and the finale of each dance ended with what amounted to a public gynecological exam. It was so nauseating at times that Jack had to avert her eyes.
As was customary, a few girls approached her for a private dance. Jack was savvy enough to realize she'd maintain a low profile by obliging every once in a while. She also paid for a few more beers, nursing them at a rate of thirty minutes a pop. The more time passed, the more she began to realize that Ramirez completely fucked her over. If there ever was a lead here, it had been dead long ago. She was about to leave when a huge man in a fancy suit flopped onto a couch next to her.
"You're out of place," he said.
Jack sniped at him. "And you're not?"
"I'm just here to see Nikki," said the man. "She's the only reason to come to the Titty."
"The what?"
"Damn, you are an out of tower," he said. "The Tarnished Treasure, the TT, hence..."
Jack rolled her eyes. "Ah, yea, Titty, I get it; real clever."
"It is what it is," said the man. "Mostly trash, all tarnished and no treasure, except for Nikki."
Jack was intrigued. "So, she's pretty special eh?"
"Beyond," said the man.
"So, what's she doing here?" asked Jack.
"Not sure," said the man. "But maybe it has to do with nostalgia, maybe she's trying to relieve the past. Believe it or not, this used to be a classy joint."
Jack laughed. "Really, now?"
The man nodded. "Before the Reaper War, it was pretty avant-garde. Cutting edge eroticism, truly, more performance art than actual dancing. There was all kinds of crazy stuff, including these twin sisters who did this insane bondage act. It was a bizarre hybrid of sleaze and style."
Jack pushed for more info. "What did they do?"
"You name it," said the man. "I could never quite decide if it was a magic show, a circus act, a striptease, or a full on sex show. They were tying each other up with barbed wire, swimming in tanks full of electric eels, juggling knives, doing some crazy fire eating act, and not just with their mouths if you know what I mean."
"No shit," said Jack. "You said they were twins? As in real sisters?"
"Identical," said the man. "That's what put it over the edge."
"That's kind of sick," said Jack.
The man laughed. "Yea, if you really think about it, I suppose it was pretty twisted, but it was also art, I mean, real art. You never knew when you were going to be shocked or deeply moved. Back in those days this place was packed."
Jack nodded. "And now?"
"Nothing," said the man. "Then, a few weeks ago, this Nikki shows up, and she's doing all kinds of cool stuff. Not only that, she's occasionally available in the VIP room to select customers. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but word is getting around. Customers are coming back."
Jack tried not to get her hopes up, but she couldn't control it. Her heart double timed. This could be exactly what she'd been looking for, this Nikki.
Jack wondered. "How long until she's on stage?"
"Any time now," said the man. "Notice how this place is starting to fill up?"
Jack looked around the room. He was right. In just ten minutes the room had doubled in occupancy. Moreover, the reek of desperation had subsided. There was a different air to the place, anticipation, perhaps even nervous energy. Jack moved closer to the main stage and ordered another beer. It was gone in just a few minutes. She ordered another out of habit. By the time Nikki took the stage Jack had a nice buzz going.
As soon as she was announced the crowd erupted. She emerged from a gauze curtain, clad in a tight black bodysuit. The hair, the figure, the walk, everything about her was riveting, even in silhouette. More than that, it was all instantly familiar to Jack. Time slowed, her heart nearly seized.
She fumbled over the words. "Miri?"
Jack was somewhere between confusion and joy when the lights hit Nikki and the bottom fell out. It wasn't Miranda's face. Jack slumped in her chair. Was it just her mind playing tricks on her then? The strange woman, familiar and unfamiliar, began to dance. It was classier than anything else Jack had seen in this joint, and a hell of a sight sexier as well. She couldn't exactly call it art, but...
The bodysuit melted off Nikki's skin as the audience gasped with delight. Tendrils of smoke curled off her naked flesh as she whipped her hair around and climbed the pole. Jack was trying to work out the trick when Nikki spun herself around the pole with near impossible velocity. A flicker of blue energy, nearly imperceptible, arced from her fingertips and toes. Jack would have missed it were it not for her trained eye.
The dancer was clearly biotic, and not just any low grade biotic using little tricks. Her control was too precise; to disguise her abilities the way she did took real mastery. Jack was hypnotized by the performance and by the woman herself. Perhaps it was Jack's mind playing tricks on her, or maybe the skill of the dancer to capture her audience, but Jack felt as if Nikki was watching her the entire time, performing just for her. Jack was completely engrossed and more than a little turned on.
The music ended abruptly as Nikki vanished from the stage. A hush fell over the room, followed by a chorus of disappointed whispers and sighs. Jack ordered another beer and tried to formulate a plan. She didn't have the cash to get into the VIP room, but she desperately needed to talk to this woman. Eyeing the bouncers, she began to weigh her chances of getting into the back without being seen. Before she could make her move, another dancer approached her, pressing a slim metal card into Jack's hand.
"What's this?" asked Jack.
"It's a pass to the private rooms, courtesy of Nikki," said the dancer.
Jack was confused. "How?"
"You must be pretty special honey," said the woman.
"Right," said Jack.
Something was off, but she couldn't help herself. She found herself elbowing customers as she cut her way across the crowded room. Jack was moving closer to the VIP door when a woman appeared in her peripheral vision. She was evading two bouncers who were in hot pursuit. Jack saw a tuft of red hair, a flash of green eyes, and a well-proportioned celestial nose. Time stood still. It just wasn't possible.
Jack was bewildered. "Shepard?"
"It's a trap! Run, Jack, run!" shouted the Commander.
As soon as the words left her mouth, the bodyguards pounced on her. Shepard was overwhelmed in an instant. How was that possible? How was any of this possible? The universe had stopped making sense. At that very instant the doors to the VIP lounge burst open. Armed soldiers spilled into the room. It was immediately obvious to Jack who they were.
"Fucking Cerberus!" she snarled.
She got her barrier up just in time. All hell broke loose as the soldiers opened fire into the crowd. Mass Effect rounds ripped through dozens of innocent bystanders as main floor transformed into a slaughterhouse. There was no chance of protecting the people around her, so Jack took the only option available and attacked with all the ferocity she could muster. Her shockwave slammed into the Cerberus soldiers, knocking them off balance.
She followed up by hitting the front man with a warp before he could recover, and then, using something from her new bag of tricks, she ripped him off his feet, sending him into the ceiling before returning him to the floor at terminal velocity. He made a sickening thud when he struck. The resulting biotic detonation staggered the soldiers who were only just recovering from her initial shockwave.
Jack went hard at the remaining four soldiers, consistently hitting them with enough force to keep them off balance. As soon she'd finished them off, she realized that the two bouncers had taken Shepard out of the room. How? Shepard should have torn those fools apart.
'Maybe she's hurt,' though Jack, 'or drugged, or... not Shepard."
As Jack fled the club, the last thought resonated. The woman had Shepard's face, but her cry was desperate, frightened. She was running from the two men. Shepard, the real Shepard, would have taken their heads off. Jack recalled the incident on the Citadel just days before the party and decided that she'd been taken in by another Cerberus trick, another clone. But why had the faux Shepard warned her? Perhaps this one had enough of the real Shepard in her that she didn't feel like playing along, or else this was a setup. It didn't matter. Jack went after her.
She was outside of the club moments later, pushing passed panicked customers who were fleeing for their lives. She glanced around and spotted the Shepard ringer being stuffed into the back of a vehicle. She also noticed something else she could work with. As the vehicle lifted off, Jack made a dash for her bag, the one she'd stowed away before entering the club. Once she had a weapon in hand, she moved quickly to her next objective.
One of the customers had just put on his helmet and was about to escape the chaos on his skycycle. It was a hell of a bike, a 2177 Cloud Iron. Before he knew it, the poor bastard was on the ground and Jack had his ride. He'd done her the solid of starting it up for her.
"Thanks buddy!" Jack shouted as she revved the turbines.
She dropped the gravity clutch and launched into the city skyscape hot in pursuit of ringer Shepard and her captors. The skybike screamed through the air, passing 250kph in mere seconds.
Jack couldn't help herself. "HELL YES!" she screamed, as she blazed across the rooftops.
________________________________
One of the side benefits of Joughin's poverty was low traffic, even at rush hour. This worked to Jack's advantage, allowing her to maintain plenty of distance from the vehicle without losing it. She followed it all the way to the southern edge of the city and beyond before it finally set down in a mansion located on the high coastal bluffs. Jack cut the throttle and allowed herself to gently glide into a row of trees that hedged the opposite street.
Ditching the bike, she crossed the street, careful to stay out of sight. The walls to the mansion were fairly secure, so she circumnavigated it cautiously, searching for a weak spot. Her first instinct was to batter down the walls and crush every Cerberus bastard that she came across, but charging in blind probably wasn't the best call. There was always a chance for booby traps, perhaps explosives, maybe even a mech or two.
She found a gate near the back wall which led to a pool area. This was the perfect spot to make her approach. The security console was old school, easily exploited by an Omni-tool hack. It took only a few seconds to blind the security system and unlock the gate. Once she was in, she took a casual stroll across the pool deck. There were no guards in sight.
The back of the mansion had two entrances on the ground floor. She ignored both, choosing to climb to the deck on the second floor. It was an easy enough route. Soon she was at a door that appeared to be unlocked. The second floor windows were tinted, which made her nervous. She moved quickly to the door, checked it, and entered. The room was dark, and unfortunately, she had no visor or goggles with her. She hadn't really been prepared for an op like this.
Jack felt for the counter, dropped low, and slid along the floor just in case there were monitors on the other side of the room. The more time passed without resistance, the more nervous she became. She should have run into at least a couple security guys by now, so either Cerberus had gotten really sloppy, or she'd royally fucked up by breaking into the wrong home. Of course there was also a third option that she didn't want to think about.
The door buzzed, then latched. Seconds later the lights came on. This was not good, not good at all. Jack clutched her pistol, tensed, and prepared for the worst. She was in it now, having apparently walked right into a trap. She popped up from behind the counter, barrier up, finger hovering just over the trigger. The room was empty, aside from a woman sitting comfortably on a white vinyl couch. She wore a black bodysuit that looked like it had literally been painted on her body. It left nothing at all to the imagination.
Jack had seen that outfit earlier in the evening. She'd been thoroughly entertained, even titillated by the method of its removal. Unfortunately, it was a lot less enticing at the moment. The woman who wore it stared menacingly at Jack, her mouth leering in a mock grin.
"Nikki," said Jack.
"Actually, it's Michelle," said the woman. "Commander Michelle Nicholas, Cerberus, pleased to meet you."
Jack snorted. "Fuck you."
The woman's grin widened. "Unfortunately, you already missed out on that opportunity when my asset went haywire. I was so looking forward to our little encounter in the VIP lounge. I was going to make it memorable for you."
Jack glanced around the room. As far as she could tell there was no backup. What game was Nicholas playing? Jack thought about shooting her on the spot, but her barrier was up, and it was probably strong if the skills she displayed during her dance were any indication.
"Lower your weapon," said Nicholas. "I'd like to have a little heart to heart before I kill you."
Jack laughed. "Talk about what? Unless you plan on telling me your entire evil plot, I'm really not interested."
"I can do that," said Nicholas. "Well, the most interesting parts anyway."
"So after I beat your ass down, I can give it to the Alliance? I like the sound of that," said Jack.
"I'll record it for you, if you like," said Nicholas. "Shell 2, code 14 Nicholas, Theta 1, begin recording-video and audio."
Her insolence pissed Jack off. "Who the hell are you?"
"I am the future face of Cerberus," said Nicholas. "The next generation in human progress."
"All I see is a Cerberus bitch," said Jack.
Nicholas chuckled. "Protest if you must, but I saw the way you looked at me when I was on stage. I felt what you wanted from me. I am, after all, a lot like your Miranda, though vastly improved."
"No fucking chance," said Jack. "You aren't even close to being in her league."
"Judging by the way I put her under foot, I think she would disagree," said Nicholas.
Jack choked on bile. "If you've hurt her I'll tear you to fucking pieces."
"Oh, I haven't begun to hurt her, not yet," said Nicholas. "But this is where it starts, and you're going to be part of it. You see, that's why I wanted to record this. Before I begin with her, I am going to make her watch this, me killing you, slowly, painfully. I'll put it on loop in her little cell, so she won't be able to shut out your screams."
Jack wasn't going to listen to another word. She opened fire with phased rounds, intent on shredding the Cerberus agent's barrier. Her Carnifex pulsed as her finger drew lightly on the trigger, but somehow instead of hitting home, they merely shredded the couch where Nicholas had been sitting.
Nicholas appeared at Jack's location, biotic energy roiling off her in waves. The impact of her charge knocked Jack through the wall, tearing down her barrier. At least two of her ribs were broken in the process. Jack pushed through the pain, unleashing a warp as she scrambled out of the ruins of the wall. Nicholas was too fast, too maneuverable. She dashed around Jack as the warp field curved, then hit a nearby fish tank, sending shards of glass and colorful scales flying.
Jack tried to pull her barrier back together, but got tagged with an energy field that drained it away completely, blistering the skin on her arms. Nicholas was using a biotic reave more powerful than anything Jack had ever encountered before. She was in trouble. Her only chance was to get out of the line of fire, get into cover and try to shake it off and recharge.
Nicholas caught her with a warp before she even took a step. Jack was blasted across the room. The flesh on her right forearm tore open, spraying a mist of blood around her. She bounced on the floor, knocking the air out of her lungs. It hurt like hell, but she knew pain, she could fight through pain, so she got on her feet, fast. Nicholas closed the distance as Jack activated her Omni-blade.
The blade hissed through the air, but again, Nicholas was too fast. Instead of a blade, the Cerberus agent utilized a small Omni-whip, wrapping it around Jack's already damaged arm. She managed to get Jack in an arm lock, which was no good. Jack tried to twist out of it, but Nicholas was too strong, too fast. She snapped Jack's arm like a twig. Jack screamed as she saw the shards of her right radius tearing through the flesh. Things went from worse to utter shit. A kidney punch put her on her knees.
Somehow, through all the pain, she managed to land a throw, but it was no match for the Cerberus bitch's barrier. Another charge, and this time Jack had no barrier for protection. The devastating strike shattered Jack's ribs. She was on her back, on the ground, struggling to draw air into battered and bruised lungs. Nicholas towered over her, drawing biotic energy around her fist, and then throwing it into Jack's face.
The force of the biotic assault was so devastating that it bounced Jacks head off the floor, knocking her senseless and fracturing her skull and jaw. She choked on the fragments of her own shattered teeth. She'd taken plenty of beatings in her life, but nothing like this. Even through the fog of her concussed brain, she began to realize that her life was nearing an end.
The fight knocked completely out of her, Jack went into flight mode. She managed to get herself on her belly and began slithering across the floor like a snake that had been run over. Nicholas was merciless. She followed close behind laughing at Jack's desperate crawl, using the advantage to unleash a seemingly endless barrage of powerful kicks into Jack's groin. The brutality of it was as jarring as the pain. She tried to cry out, but instead only managed to gag on the blood that was pooling in her throat and lungs. Mercifully, she lapsed into unconsciousness.
That's how Jack should have died, there on the floor, drowned in her own blood, but Nicholas was having none of it. The pitiless woman retrieved a medical kit and laid her victim out on the counter, reviving Jack via syringe, and then jabbing a device into her chest which extracted the blood and fluid from her lungs. Suddenly, Jack could breath, albeit painfully.
Nicholas mocked her. "You can't die yet, oh no, the show must go on for Miranda's sake."
Jack tried to mouth words without teeth or a jaw that would move. She ended up gurgling something in her throat instead. Nicholas withdrew a scalpel from her kit and held it out so Jack could see it.
Her voice softened to a sensual purr. "I'm going to make this last, and last, and last."
Jack's students had often referred to her as the psychotic biotic in jest, but this was for real. The woman who had beaten her was the true psychopath, and Jack had become her plaything. The irony was, that all the anger she had held in her life was utterly absent. Here at the end, amidst her suffering, Jack was finally at peace, free of hatred. All that she could think about was Miranda, her last thoughts would be for her, and love. Her whole life, her whole fucking life, the war, and now this.
The scalpel flashed, there was some pain, but it wasn't as bad as Nicholas bragged. Jack was escaping, into the dark, and beyond into the warm light. The Cerberus woman was cursing, and then the sound of gunfire, explosions, screams. Shards of the wall took flight above her face. A bomb? She was choking on her own blood again.
'I'm sorry, Miri, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.'
"Medic! Medic!"
'Whose voice is that?'
"Jack, do you hear me? This is James, James Vega. Stay with me, ok, stay with me!"
'Like I even care anymore.'
And then, at last, everything stopped and she let herself fall.
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Up Next: Ashley Williams has to deal with a crazy Shepard clone, her relationship with the Shadow Broker, and a Cerberus saboteur.