Chapter Text
The golden sun began to cast its shadows across the lonely sprawl of metal beams. They jutted out of the crumbling concrete in every which way. Rusty trees amidst this desolate wasteland of gray stone. The setting sun’s rays created elongated black fingers that stretched across what was once a hub for art and trade. Beset by natural disasters and human greed, a once thriving city only a handful of centuries ago now existed in collapsed ruin with only a nugget of civility protected within the hills. This was Nando. A desolate place that required much from its denizens and offered only pleasant weather in return.
The sky was erupted in reds, pinks, oranges, and just a hint of light green. Its striking colors contrasted starkly against the rest of the wasteland. Grays concrete, red brick, long molding wood under a thick layer of dirt, ash, or whatever else had blown this way. The occasional skeleton, decades old, pocking out from under the rocks. Critters of many walks of lives scurried between the rocks or perched watchfully nearby.
Skirting from shadow to shadow of the sky’s grasp, ran one of the thousands of young orphans of the ruined city. In rapid pace, the child climbed across the waste, knowing where the crumbling buildings would hold her weight. This was a route she had done before and she trusted her feet to move through the air as her trained eyes kept a careful watch.
The last thing Cyrus Ward needed today was to be jumped by some wanna-be street thug looking to steal her payout.
Her climb came to a sudden stop as she gave the area a through scan. Concrete. Metal. Broken rusty pipes long gone dry. Movement! Wait. Take a breath! Not threat. Not rats, or at least no human ones. Just critters. Little feet and squeaks crawling through the cracks. No eyes.
Satisfied, she ducked around a corner and dropped into one of the many open doors. This one was labeled “Conference Room 401-Y”. It was decently put together- all four walls and all. But the roof had completely collapsed inward. Leaving nothing but a pile of rubble and a broken weathered desk partially sticking out. Spotting the slightly yellowed stone Cyrus swung her bag over her shoulder. A groan as she noted the new tear in the shoulder strap. Great. She needed another thing on her plate. Still, the damage was minimal and likely could be mended while she hit the books tonight.
Best to get it done before it becomes a problem, Cy.
For now, she had a job to do. Allowing herself only one dramatic sigh, she grabbed the bundle held within, fingers tight around the white fabric. Stashing it under the designated stone with efficient ease. There. A single nod then Cyrus quickly scampered out of the building, not wanting to linger.
Down, down, she began to leapt and slide down the crumbling remains of what was once a building so tall it was said to scratch the sky. Cyrus had seen pictures in the school textbooks. Ones of the past and current in other cities on Earth. They must be more impressive in person. Here? They register as little more than human made hills. Crumbles of something once great.
Humans loved to talk about what was once great…
Cyrus jumped from solid beams, perched atop man-made boulders, and slide down the rocky side until her feet found solid purchase on the ground below.
Leaning against the wall, she allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. When a sudden crackling static had her ducking reflectively. The whizz of the taser rod scraped against the stone overhead as she threw her body forward. Succeeding in tackling her ambusher to the ground. But a hard kick in her side threw her body off as she scrambled to her feet, taking in the scene.
Three rats, all around her age. Great.
They rushed her. Here in this limited space with her back to a wall, there wasn’t much to do. So Cyrus dodged a swipe and used the opening in their defense to dive pass them. Hoping to get them against the wall instead. She mostly managed. Harsh cold metal dug into her side before all sensation became static and pain. A strangled cry escaped her lips as her muscles locked into place. Before she could recover, one grabbed her by her hair, yanking her up into a headlock. The one she initially tackled stepped forward with a triumphant glint to his slightly bloodied grin. Jutting the end of the taser rod under Cyrus’ chin. Fear shivered through Cyrus’ gut, knowing exactly how much that hurt.
Focus! Her face dipped down into a heated glare.
“Alright gutter-trash! Where you store the– what the–?!”
With a curling fist and wave of glowing of blue, Cyrus pulled at the energy she had never known without. From behind her, the teenager let out a squeak as their body began to lift a half inch from the ground. Reaching up, and with a hard yank, Cyrus ducked and threw his weight forward. The rat smashed with a resounding warbled whack into the one threating her. Both teenagers cried out in pain as they hit the hard ground. But no time to celebrate. Her body jerked body back and the predictable jab of the taser hit only air.
Cyrus pushed. Feeling the air grow heavier as her foot stamped her ground. Close fist colliding directly with under chin. The teenager’s eyes gritted in pain as the force sent him four inches in the air. A meat sack landing with a wet thud on the ground. Cyrus grinned even as she panted, satisfied at the knock out.
Those other two were about to finish recovering. “Shit! A biotic!”
You don’t say. Cyrus pulled on them, managing to disarm one’s taser. The remaining charged at her and met her own rod in a clash of metal. He tried to kick at her but she blocked it. Quickly dancing to his flank. Striking out and managing to punch him hard in the chin. The rat flinched, and it was over. Her taser hit the softness of his side and he crumbled to the ground with a loud cry.
“Jason!” The remaining rat came at her right and she dodged his flaying attacks. One kick to his knee, and he crumbled. A zap in his chest ensuring he stayed down.
Movement. ‘Jason’ was struggling up. A second round of her taser had him twitching on the ground in seconds. For a moment, Cyrus did nothing but wait for the next. Prepared and twitching to move. Panting as she overlooked the three. Jason and the other were groaning on the ground. The first one she had knocked out wasn’t moving. Either still out of it or smart enough to pretend to be.
Nine seconds. Ten. Cyrus counted to fifteen before her body sprang into movement. Thoroughly picking the three clean. Turning pockets was something anyone could do. Cyrus liked to think she was particularly good at it. There were spots where people hid what was really valuable. In the tops of socks, inside of pants by the calves. Tied round the neck or tucked into the waist belt. Cyrus had managed to bleed them dry within two minutes.
Jason was starting to come to, which worked for her. Grabbing him by the shirt, she tossed him against a wall where he glared, wobbled, but stayed upright.
“Listen closely.” Her voice took on a growl as she stalked forward. Her prey cowered slightly, just in the shoulders. “I’m going to ask you only once. Who sent you?”
“I- I ain’t telling you shit!”
“Not the answer I was looking for.” Feeling her skin begin to tingle as blue drifted off her shoulders, Cyrus gave him a hard shove back into the wall. To her delight, the boy fully gulped. “I could pull the information from you. With my mind. There’s only one problem. See, it’s hard to hear, under all that other noise.”
She stepped forward fully into his space now. Taser pressing into neck. “But pain. Ah, good old pain. See, it has a habit of clearing the mind. So I’m just going to keep asking the question and, well, let's see how long you can last!”
The wild grin on her face was a nice touch, she thought, and it certainly did the trick. Jason was all but blubbering, “Gallagher! It was Gallagher!”
“Smart move, Jason. Now get out of here.”
Jason held up his hands. “We’re going! We’re going!”
Cyrus watched carefully as they scampered off into the ruins before sighing, running a hand through her hair. Time to shave again, then. The joy of being so damn memorable. She gritted her teeth before turning not towards home but the one of the Tenth Street Reds’ bases. Even as the annoyance turned her stomach, she reminded herself that it was just for now! Because one day… one day she was going to be gone from this place.
And between “protecting the turf”, no warning about competition, and the name… The payout owed to her this today was going to be substantial!
Even as her stomach growled its displeasure and a late night loomed ahead, Cyrus’ mouth stretched into a wide grin. At this rate, she’d have the money for the papers before the end of the year! That 'one day' was going to be hers! For now, she began forward quickly, pushing against the protest of her aching muscles. For just a moment, she jumped through the air, feeling the wind against her smile.
She was running. Running.
Why was she running?
She seemed to be running towards someone. Every instinct in her screaming to grab him because she could not lose again!
Running.
White!
There was a flash of white so bright it burned her eyes even as she raised her arms to cover them. She screamed out, tried to throw her body away from it! But it was too late. White became the only thing to see. She shut her eyes tight and still! Its bright nothingness consumed everything.
There was nothing.
Then came the pain.
Sharp. Piercing. A headache whose pain she had never known. It pounded against the back of her eyes, shooting into the top of her head. She groaned, trying to do anything to relieve it, but it was for naught. This was everything. Pain and white was all that she had become.
Then, distantly, she became aware of a touch. Warm, soft. Gently stroking her hair. Caressing her cheek. The comfort was intoxicating! Soothing. A whimper fluttering unwanted from her weakened lips. She couldn’t help but lean into it.
Immediately she regretted it. The movement, small as it had been, had pain coursing through her. She groaned against it and heard a voice call out. Cyrus strained to understand or even recognize the sound, but it was futile. All she could know was this headache and that almost featherlike gentle touch. Wait! Touches.
There was grip holding onto her hand. Firm, solid. The warm pressure made Cyrus’ heart twist painfully in her chest. She tried to squeeze back.
Suddenly, sharp sting. A needle! Something was being injected into her arm! Whatever strength she had left she used yank herself free but it was far too late. Almost immediately the dullness was setting in. No. No! She thrashed, but the numbness was already spreading. Something was wrong! She wasn’t safe! Pushing herself onto her elbows and prying her eyes open instantaneously proved ineffective. The pain within her head screamed, blinding her. Her skull landing back onto the firm pillow. A whimper choked back just a moment too late. Too weak and drugged to do more than tense just to keep her body awake.
The hand gently landed on her forehead. A voice trying to soothe, but Cyrus gritted her teeth and forced herself to pull away.
She couldn’t trust anything.
Close, very close to her, Cyrus heard humming. Deep, vibrating. A song? Cyrus had never heard anything like it before. It must have some editing software (or it was the drugs), despite being sung. How else could it fold itself? Flanging tones mixing together in a comforting wordless lullaby. The sound of it soothed her headache, her body naturally beginning to relax into the bed.
Cyrus could feel her hand being cupped from underneath now too. Cocooned in solid warmth. Pull away. She ordered herself. Do not trust. But reason had no sway in this moment. The feeling quickly enveloped her. Drifted off into the artificial warm numbness. Held and guided by melody.
There was nothing. Warm, safe, beautiful oblivion.
Nothingness became everything.
Then a voice drifted over into existence.
And Cyrus’ eyes snapped open. Darting quickly even as her body froze into place. Medical machine; long and overhanging. Door; green big button. Lot of metal; everywhere. Smell; disinfectant. Touch; bed, reflective lining easy cleaning. Sound; coming closer! Footsteps!
Quickly, Cyrus shut her eyes and began to breathe. Forcing her focus into a pinpoint. This. This and nothing else. Breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Evenly.
Nothing else in the entire world could matter more in this moment.
The footsteps hovered briefly but then walked away. There was the sound of a chair’s wheels rolling across the floor. Then there was silence.
Now.
Cyrus very carefully opened her eyes, keeping her breathing even and body unmoving. She was supine, partially turned to the left side. As she glanced about the room to the best of her limited view, it remained the same. Door, fancy medical machine, lots of metal. But it was the smell that solidified it.
Hospital.
What happened?
Cyrus had… had just sent those thugs running! They wouldn’t have come back for more. Not in their sorry states. Maybe she got jumped for the loot right after? Someone watching with enough patience to wait in the shadows to strike? Seemed likely. But if so, who in the right mind would drag her here after? No one with two working eyes would ever think she could afford anything other than some back alley physician.
Something was wrong.
Daring to tilt her head down just every so much, Cyrus got a view of in front of her.
It was just a blank metal wall with another empty medical bed in front of it. But the sight felt like ice running down her spine. There was no concrete here, crumbling or otherwise. Everything she could see was new, shiny, sturdy and clean. Distantly, on the edge of her hearing, she could hear a rhythmic electrical hum.
Her entire body went cold now. A ship. She was on a ship.
It took every effort not to scream.
How many horror stories had she heard huddle around the fire during the cold weeks?? How many biotic kids did she watch get sold and swooped up by the handful?! Shady corporations, official sanctioned governments, invested third parties…
And Cyrus never lived under any illusions. She was the perfect target for those sick bastards! After all, who would even notice she was gone?
She just had to use her biotics to take down those thugs, huh? Just had to get fancy! Great! Now she was nothing more than lab rat on a silver platter.
For a cruel moment, Cyrus’ mind flashed to her little hovel. It was the top floor of a long abandoned building. Cyrus had figure out that if you applied pressure from the bottom, the door would open. The entire apartment itself was far larger than Cyrus could ever have use for, but that worked out for the best. The reason it had been long overlooked was due in no small part to the massive hole in the crumbling ceiling. Weather had destroyed more than half the space. But Cyrus had found an old mattress there, unsoiled. And she even found herself a decent blanket and boom!
Home sweet home.
She never longed for it more.
FOCUS.
Right. Right! Pay attention! There weren’t any restraints. Not on her wrists, ankles, or around her center. And they were sloppy- the drugs were already wearing off. They clearly underestimated her.
Which meant she had the element of surprise on her side.
If she kept her cool, she was going to get out of this.
Just then, to her far right, the sound of a door opened followed closely behind by entering heavy footsteps. “How’s she doing, doctor?”
“I am picking up some strange brain activity but little else. We’ll hopefully know more when she wakes up. Which might be now. Her heartrate is increasing.”
Shit! Her cover was blown. No more time to think. It was do or die.
The heavy footsteps approached her side. And Cyrus knew this was it. One shot. That’s all she had and that’s all she needed. “Hey Shepard. We gotta stop meeting like–”
Tapping into the energy she’s felt since memory, she felt the current connect. From there, it was as simple as directing. Pushing. And in one single motion, Cyrus threw her entire weight into a forward punch to her right.
For a moment, time slowed enough so Cyrus could see her target. An adult man, likely in his thirties. Dark short hair, military-grade blue armor. Then blue was all she could see. Her fist, glowing with power! Big, stronger, and with so much more force than she was expecting. To say it took this man by surprise was a massive understatement. Those eyes went so comically wide as Cyrus’ fist broke through his shield making solid contact on his nose! But it nearly equally surprised Cyrus, blinking as time resumed in full. The man was sent flying backwards. Landing heavily onto another bed before crashing into the desk near the doctor who only barely managed to scramble out of the way.
“Sh-Shep-” The older woman began. But Cyrus moved. Leaping off the bed in the opposite direction: the door on her left. And. Oh great! Absolute shit! A goddamn dead end! Nothing but big blue boxes, blinking lights, and a far back working table.
EXITEXITEXITEXITEXITEXIT
A trap door on her left! Relief pounded in her veins as she made a dive for it. And was down several feet of rungs by the time the voices above were shouting. No hesitation. Continuing downwards. Rung by rung. But Cyrus only made it ten or so feet down before a wave of pain forced her to stop. Her head was pounding! Threatening to spill out of her skull! She gritted her teeth and forced herself to ride out it out. Counting to keep herself settled. It took an irreplaceable 39 seconds before she could recover enough to start moving again.
Okay. Okay. Breathe! Keep moving but breathe!
Okay. Okay! Okay!! They probably knew where this opened up to. But her biotics were being unexpectedly powerful at the moment. Red Sand, maybe? Had to be. She had moved enough the stuff to know the effects it had on biotics. Maybe it also explained the headache? She wouldn’t know. It’s not like she had ever used. Never once. Her body was her ticket to her future and the only one she had. Stars. FUCK! Yeah, that’s probably exactly what happened. Slavers experimenting on their lab rats before they sell them.
Fuck. She had to get out of here.
Even if her heart was racing and her hands were shaking, Cyrus continued forward. The ladder had stopped and now she was quite literally crawling. She supposed it was lucky she wasn’t like Mickey Scotsman- terrified of cramped and small spaces.
He’d be dead by now. If he already wasn’t, of course.
The luck did not continue to be on her side. Though they apparently did not dare to purser her in here in this cramped crawlspace, it was becoming clear that this was not a short path to a floor below but a long one. A slightly winding tunnel downwards through this ship’s guts that stretched on into the dark at least a while further. But she continued forward. Mind playing all the different stories she had heard as a biotic kid.
Orphans or the poor being sold by the dozen. Colonist kids being snatched up by Batarians pirates or greedy humans. The government naming and collaring and shipping you off to a place no one could leave unless in a body bag.
A shudder ran through her body. These slaver scum weren’t going to get her! Of this she was certain.
It finally came to an end in front of a door she needed to press a button to open. There was a ladder but she simply dropped down the couple feet. Glancing about, she had ended up in a small dark and rather secluded place. It was cluttered, boxes lining the walls, but she spotted a single cot.
There was a part of her that wanted to curl up on it. To hide, tucked away in this out-of-the-way place. But she knew better.
Quickly, she began up the nearby stairs. At the top, she saw two doors. One was red and locked. The green button door opened into a hallway bookended by rooms and what she guessed to be an elevator on her right. Ahead of her, a small panel sat in front of a large long window. A glance through it revealed the lower level. Large stacks crates were piled about on the left. Wait! That was a shuttle! Resting on the right side of the room.
Hope began to pound against her chest. She could do it! She could get away!
There was a sound of metallic motion. Then, a soft ding. As her theory was proved correct the elevator opened to reveal…
Tall. Very tall. Looming even. A creature with razor sharp teeth, talons as long knives, and a hatred of humanity born of sure disgust. No skin, not really. Harden natural metallic body armor. Spikes where hair should be.
This was a turian.
Time slowed yet again. Her blood had gone cold as her mind began to race. Which alien paid for a human to play with? Those ones in those suits that gasped all the time? Blue asari so interested in how some backwaters monkey could possibly bend dark energy too? Salarians and all their experiments? More turians and their hatred of humanity? Somehow that felt so very much worse than those shady human corporations getting their hands on you. A lab rat for who the fuck knows or a monkey on display.
Time returned as the turian finished turning towards her, strange mouth-flaps flaring as it spoke in that bizarre two-toned voice. “Shepard!”
THUNK, THUNK, THUNK! Her footfalls resonated loudly in this metal hell as Cyrus forewent everything in favor of a mad dash away from this threat. Her feet brought her in front of a large door that opened as she approached.
EXITEXITNEEDEXITNEEDEXIT
She desperately glanced about but there was no way down from here. Just boxes and cables and tools scattered about the floor. To her right, a large window overlooked into that cargo hold.
The shuttle!
No time to think it through, Cyrus grabbed a nearby wrench and made a rush for the window. With all her might she brought it down. It cracked with a resounding shattering sound, sending the glass splintering. But it remained strong. The blow having only made the smallest indent. Gritting her teeth, Cyrus swung again immediately. Then a third. Succeeding in breaking the glass, even if the hole was only a touch bigger than her fist.
The door dinged as it opened and Cyrus turned her head to see that the turian entering, those piercing blue eyes finding her immediately.
“Shep–”
Definitely no time to think.
Her first holding the wrench began to glow and she pushed as the wretch swung down. Erupting in waves of blue and the sharp sound echoing loud into the air. Without hesitation, Cyrus pulled herself up. It wasn’t until the wind touched her ears did her folly register.
Stupid scum had forgotten to look before leaping. Again.
Crack! Her angle had her landing between two crates, hard onto the ground below even as she rolled to cushion. Fuck! Ow! Great! This idiot had managed to fall onto a bunch of glass on top of the hard landing. Because the headache wasn’t bad enough! She needed to be bleeding on top of this shit day!
Even if it was just barely, wobbly and panting, Cyrus forced herself to her feet within seconds. Trying to take stock of her injuries. Cut leg, hand, arm, and. Ow! Shit! Her shaking fingers grasped and before she could register what was happening, she pulled even as her mind shouted no!
Idiot! She cursed. You always leave it in!
The sight of the seeping blood in her side made her eyes briefly blur but she shook herself free. Focus! She was honestly lucky it didn’t look too deep and forced herself to take a deep breath.
Truly, lady luck was having her laughs today.
“Shepard!” Her head whipped up to see the turian standing from the broken window. Eyes burrowing into hers.
“Shepard? Holy shit! Are you okay?” Her attention quickly shifted. Human. Man. Adult. Not armored but uniformed. Muscular. No visible weapons. Behind to him? Shuttle on left; distant. Directly behind? Metal pillar and workbench. Workbench; GUN! “Shepard! Are you okay?”
Cyrus lurched forward. Startling the man who ducked out of the way reflexively, not realizing he wasn’t the target. And when her finger grasped that pistol? Oh stars. Air shuttered out past her lips. Dizzy, again, but this time with relief.
Without hesitation she took aim directly at the man’s heart. The human startled, eyes as wide as saucers. His mouth opened, a strangled question forming but Cyrus cut him off. “You! Can you fly this thing?” She gestured to the shuttle with a turn of the gun, barrel never straying.
“I, yes? Of course I–”
Cyrus raised a second hand to steady her aim, taking a bold step forward, now inches away from pressing into the man’s chest. “Then do it! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
“I – Shepard what’s–”
Cyrus turned to the ground in front of the man’s feet and shot. It ricocheted loudly in this metal cage. “Not asking. Move. Now!”
The sound of shattering glass! Cyrus whipped her head around just in time to see the turian land far more gracefully than her dumbass had. Easily making it the few feet down onto the crates before dropping down to ground level into a roll. The joys of foresight.
Aim where they’re going to be. In through the nose. Pull on exhale.
Two shots in rapid fire. Both flew true but the turian turned, taking it in the shoulder. By the time it passed through the shield, it did barely more than scuff that fancy armor’s paint. Shit!
A ding of a door opening sounded directly behind her. Her body took off forward before her brain remembered to duck left. Diving out of sight of the new arrival and the turian before turning to see who was after her now. Fuck... Great, sure, yeah. Of course it’s the soldier with the broken nose that definitely had it in for her now. Pistol in hand! Today was a nonstop fun!
“Okay, what the hell is–”
“Put that away Alenko!” The turian’s voice held a strong authority, backed by an indignant ferocity that rebuked as much as it commanded. “Now!”
“What’s happening?” cried the shuttle pilot.
Focus!
It took only one second for Cyrus to realize she was cornered. A dead end. Again. This little section nothing more than a three sided rectangle to house a gym of all things! Because why not? She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry and what came out was a frustrated growl.
“Shepard!”
Oh fuck today.
There was the soldier. All but eight feet away. Cyrus’ heart slammed in her throat and her biotics began to flare.
It happened so quickly. Less choice and more of just focused intent. The soldier needed to be taken out and suddenly it was happening. There was an accumulation of force, blue all around her, and she was moving.
WoobzzzBOOM. Cyrus hit against the soldier with such a force it should have sent her flying back into one of the crates. Reeling from the whiplash. Instead, she was left standing firmly on her feet. The soldier also stayed standing, taking only a stumbling step back. His shields had absorbed most of the impact.
Time had slowed. Her body moved with sure instinct. The pistol was turned and aimed. At this brief distance, what remained of that man’s shield would not protect his exposed head.
She fired.
And it went wide.
A small, precise mass effect field! It appeared out of nowhere, knocking against her hand and pushing her aim off by almost a foot. Cyrus snarled, trying to readjust, but found her attention suddenly snagged.
The man was staring at her, mouth agape. Not scared at how close to death he had been. Not victorious that the little trick had worked. No. There was horror in his expression. A deep rooted horror. The sort of look Cyrus had only ever seen once in her life.
It had been a hard fight. The man was of meager means and willing to go toe-to-toe with a teenager to keep the last of his scraps. But the Reds demanded their loan money and Cyrus needed to eat. If those things were to happen then there were little other options.
Only once he was bloodied and writhing on the ground, Cyrus standing over his body, fistful of cash in hand, did she hear it. A whimper. A terrible little sound. She turned and there she stood.
A child. Maybe six? A stuffed blue rabbit clutched close to the chest. She didn’t look scared, even though in her shoes Cyrus would be. The child was staring between the man on the ground to Cyrus. Brown eyes boring and demanding only one question:
How could you do such a thing?
“I,” Cyrus took a step back, unable to defend herself. Self-preservation a pitiful excuse in the face of this. “I didn’t…”
Wait. Focus! She quickly bit the inside of her cheek, iron filling her mouth and narrowing her attention. Focus! Slavers! SLAVERS! Focus!
She took aim.
A flash of light! So bright she had no choice but to cover her eyes. A single shriek escaping her lips as sparks danced all around her. Mildly painful, but that wasn’t what sent her heart racing. There was a sound. A warning! Beeping that meant ‘get your ass to cover or you’re dead’.
There would be no following through on that instinct.
BAWOOM. Weightlessness. All muscles locked in place as tingles vibrated across her entire body. She was being pulled up, suspended in the air. Limp. A defenseless ragdoll. Trapped in this blue existence. Unable to move even her jaw.
“Don’t hurt her!”
“Don’t hurt her?” The soldier demanded incredulous.
“Would someone please explain to me what is going on?!”
Above them all now, Cyrus could see that the shuttle pilot was half tucked behind a second workbench on the other side of the room. The turian was staring at her, and Cyrus could not read anything on that alien expression. But the soldier was glowing. A human biotic? Willing to round up his own? A fresh bout of fury washed over her. Gifting her new strength.
“Let me go, you chicken shit!” Cyrus screamed through clenched teeth and unmoving lips. She snarled, best she could, before stamping down the urge. Yeah. Real intimating from the scrawny street kid. She was sure this turian with its hardened natural skin and talons and teeth was shaking in that military-grade armor. But panic and fury were racing in her chest and there was little she could to do against this than rage.
“Shepard!” The turian shouted. “Just– please! Calm down! We can talk this out.”
Focus!
Can’t move. Can’t move. Can’t move!
Her desperation was swirling inside her. Out of other options, Cyrus tapped into the only thing left she could think of.
Her biotics began to swell around her.
“What’s she doing?” The pilot yelled.
The soldier’s eyes went wide. “Shepard, wait! Don’t!!”
There was the sound of a large explosion, though not in the traditional sense. Warped and warbled, loud, and blue everywhere. The next thing Cyrus was aware of her back was colliding hard into the metal above. The back of her skull, spine, and left ankle blazed in white searing pain! Cyrus cried out wetly, the sound more winded than shouted out of her.
Then came gravity. The hard impact nearly sending her spinning into unconsciousness as she landed prone, arms barely coming up in time to cushion. Her head was pounding! The ground was shaking! Sounds of metal crashing into each other all around her, but she couldn’t spare the attention to see why.
Not with her vision swimming. Not with her eyes growing dark. Not with her grasp on consciousness this unstable.
Shakenly, somehow, Cyrus’s fingers gripped her pistol.
“Shepard!” She looked up, eyes seeing double before the images started converged. It was the turian again. Running towards her.
Cyrus took aim.
And the alien froze.
Breathing heavily, arm unable to stay steady, blood blinding an eye, Cyrus forced herself up; barely staggering to her feet. Her aim was pitiably unstable. She didn’t even have a second hand to support it. Too busy holding her side which was now bleeding profusely. Easy. Pathetic. No threat. Despite how weak she was, the turian did not take advantage. Standing there, gloved three-fingered hands half-way raised in surrender, unmoving. Then, that voice. Dual toned and pleading, fingers grasping at the air in her direction. “Shepard, let me help you. Please.”
“Let me go,” Cyrus panted, vision still swimming. It was a struggle to even stay awake. And as time passed, her grasp on it did not tighten. Continuing to titter back and forth. “Let me go.”
“I– medi-gel! I have medi-gel, Shepard. Just let me…”
The sure blatantness of the lie felt like a slap in the face. Bastard wasn’t even trying! Before she could throw this in the turian’s face, both their attentions were suddenly drawn back into the room. It was the pilot, red faced and angry and shouting as he emerged from behind the workbench, approaching. “Okay! Enough! We’re going to talk this through like adults. Because whatever is happening is ending now before any more damage is done!”
Now that he mentioned it, Cyrus could see the destruction around them. That little biotic moment had caused most of the crates in the room to have gone flying. A couple had just knocked over, but several had caused damage. One logged in the wall just a foot from the elevator. Another jammed into the shuttle. The sight of it vanishing what little hope she had of getting out of here alive.
Misery. Its venom raced through her hands and into her heart. Killing all warmth until she spotted it. The closest crate to her was only two feet away. It laid half embedded into a significant indent on the ship’s floor. One more solid biotic hit, just like the one that broke that soldier’s nose, and Cyrus felt certain it would rip through.
The crushing void of space had no favorites; Cyrus would kill them all.
The turian’s gaze followed hers. While she could still read nothing from that alien expression, there was a sharp intelligence in those eyes and she could see the moment he quickly caught on to her plan. “Shepard! Wait! You don’t have to do this.”
It made her laugh, as dizzy and light headed as she was. Lab rat or dancing monkey. Cyrus didn’t need to weigh her options before knowing her answer. Even as her entire head was still spinning. Each of her heartbeats pounded loudly in her head. Drowning out everything but that silver of fight she clutched onto with all of her remaining strength. “What do I have to lose, bird?”
“Tell me what you need, Shepard! Tell me and I’ll make it happen!”
“Take me back.” She wished she sounded stronger. Gritting her teeth, she tried to gather any power she had left. Her voice came out as a shout, but it didn’t carry much command. Too desperate. “Take me back!”
Those mouth flaps things flared then tightened on that expressionless face. “The… The Cerberus station on Korlos was destroyed, Shepard. We can’t go back.”
The sure frustration of that nonsensical answer nearly blinded her. Which did allow some modicum of bite to return to her words. “Earth! Take me back to Earth! Or I kill us all!”
“Back to Earth?” The soldier echoed confused, slowly approaching. He looked bloodied, Cyrus noted, but in far better shape than she.
“Yes! Now! I’m more trouble than my worth. Let me go! Or I swear I’ll kill us all!”
The two humans only stared at her. And, after a pause, the turian spoke. “Okay, Shepard. Okay. We can go to Earth. But you’re injured. And I have some medi-gel. Let me–”
“Stay the fuck away from–” She tried to take a step to the right, closer to her only bargaining chip, but her body suddenly convulsed. Knees hit roughly into the ground as bile came up her throat. Without thought, her hand cupped her mouth, trying to prevent it. Only succeeding in smearing her own wet blood on her face and vomit on her hand.
Hacking and coughing and bleeding and there was a sound of footsteps and some cries of “Shepard!”. Cyrus blindly banished her pistol, barely able to see their blurry silhouettes. But it stopped them in place, allowing Cyrus a precious few seconds to try and recover.
Focus.
Just as she had always done, Cyrus forced herself to her feet. Eyes cleared in time to see the pilot bending down. Sitting cross-legged on the ground. “Okay. Okay Shepard. We won’t come any closer.”
At his glare, the two others shared a look but followed his lead. Them lowering as Cyrus stumbled back up, managing to limp her way to the precious leverage. There, she propped herself against the crate, knees wobbling but holding her weight.
Despite her feeble state, she knew and was certain they knew as well: she could do this.
Quiet. No one dared to move. Then the pilot raised his hands, gently patting the air as if to soothe. His voice was calm and even, “Shepard, this is an Alliance ship. You’re safe here.”
Alliance? Perhaps it should surprise her but it didn’t. Why wouldn’t the space military be in the market for biotic kids? They had certainly tried to recruit as many as they could in the last couple years. Hell! That was Cyrus’ own plan. Get off the silver platter life by signing it away to the Alliance. Get out of crumbling concrete to go see the stars. Get free of hiding her powers and instead become so big no one could ignore it.
Turned out, she needn’t have bothered with the expensive forged papers! A short bark of laughter hit her before it turned into a wince. The pain only fueled the coal forming heavily in her stomach. These people made her sick. Slavers were scum. Human Alliance slavers even more so. That they even had a biotic among them?
If her strength was hovering dangerously close to sputtering out, this information burned her anew. Cyrus glared and gathered up as much vile and blood to spit in their direction as she could muster.
This caused no reaction. But it didn’t matter. Hatred was stirring angrily in her chest and her fist began to glow. The threat rippled across the room more than her words or childish antics could ever achieve.
“Shepard!” The desperation in the turian’s voice stalled her. Good. She had him scared. “Shepard, please. Whatever you need I will see it done! Just, don’t! Don’t throw your life away!”
Cyrus screwed her face up. This alien fuckwad. “Fuck you, bird! You- you won’t get a cent off me! Rather be dead than a lab rat.”
“No!” The turian was panicked. And, maybe it was the delirium, but he seemed genuinely so. Guess the threat of being spaced really was not how this turian was willing to go. “You still have so much life left! You can’t let it end like this again, Shepard. You can’t!”
Her head was pounding. She was fairly certain that her skull was only minutes from splitting and gushing out blood. “Fuck off.”
“Tali’s house is about to start construction.” The turian continued, desperation adding speed to his words. “Don’t you want to see it? She planning a room for us! It-it was going to be a surprise! A-and Brynn! Don’t forget your promise to Brynn! The-the baby’s going to be born any day now!”
“…wha?”
“Wrex’ll kill you if you die before visiting Tuchanka! And Liara! How do you think she’ll feel once the news hits her? For a second time?”
“The fuck–”
“–You can’t do this, Shepard.” There was nothing in his voice now but begging, hands beginning to writhe. “You can’t have it end like this again. Not like this. Not when I just got you back!”
“What the hell are you–”
“–I need you, Shepard. Please, let me help you.”
“Help me?” The words sounded so sincere in her dizzying state. But it was nonsense. Tricks. Things meant to lower her guard. To what end? In this state, she had no chance of knowing. Not when tackled with that expressionless alien face. Painted dark blue lined what would be cheeks and across that strange nose. Natural hardened skin, strange spikes in what would be hair, and a blue visor over an eye. Teeth as sharp as ever. Scarred, she observed suddenly. A fact that seemed ridiculous to not notice before now but here she was. Faded with time, yes, but the rough scar tissue took up nearly half the turian’s face on one side. It had to have been a hell of a hit. “I don’t even know you.”
For some reason, this obvious fact triggered a strong reaction in the room. The soldier’s entire mouth dropped open, a glare forming as anger began to brood into a tight glare and even tighter crossed arms. The turian fully recoiled as if she had punched him in that weird flat nose. Those creepy face flaps fluttered before pulling tightly on that face.
The pilot already had a smile plastered over whatever he was feeling by the time Cyrus’ gaze flickered back over to him, but it didn’t escape her notice that his hands were shaking. At her eye contact, he nodded his head down. His voice was soothing, pacifying. “Lieutenant Steve Cortez of the Alliance, ma’am. I am here to help you. However I can.”
“Help.” The word echoed from her lips, first with disbelief, then taunting. Angry and venomous. “My fucking slavers are here to help. That’s great. Nothing to worry ‘bout then.”
Whatever speech Steve’s wounded little frown tried to weave to mollify her quickly faded from Cyrus’ attention. Whether because of the pounding headache or her patience finally hitting the limit, all sound of the room had vanished. Enough. Enough of all of this. She could feel herself tittering. Not sure which cliff edge she was going to fall off of. She. She didn’t want any of this. But life had never been about what she wanted. Why should it start now?
This wasn't about want. Cyrus wouldn’t be a lab rat.
But. But fuck. Fuck if it didn’t scare her. Her throat was so tight and her sweat was running ice cold.
She could do it.
She had to do it.
Look. It. It was easy. Cyrus just had to punch something. That was all. Just punch.
She could just pretend not to know what came next.
Her fist was shaking but she raised it nonetheless.
“Shepard.” The turian’s voice cut through. “I- I don’t know what’s happening here, but I swear. I’m on your side. Don’t do this.”
Her side? This, more than anything else said, was completely perplexing.
“Whatever you need, Shepard. I promise you, whatever you need. I will see it done.”
She needed… She needed…
“I wanna go home.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could bite it back. Pathetic. Like a petulant child who missed their mommy. And it should have been the nail in the coffin. Proof that she wasn’t a worthy advisory to be taken seriously. For all her destructive power, she was still just a street kid; always helpless where it really mattered.
But the turian nodded, straight back as if she had barked an order with real authority. “You got it.”
Like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut, Cyrus’ body collapsed.