So, another story that I probably won't update frequently! But never fear, this is completely - nearly completely - mapped out from stem to stern, with only little blank spots in between everything. It's just a matter of finding the time to sit down and write everything now, since my job is still shit and I'm still working sixty to eighty hours a week. Upside, I am looking into a different job that will hopefully pan out and - hopefully - pay better with actual normal hours instead of this insanity.

There will be some time jumps through the first...ehm, three or four chapters? Like, they're obvious, but they're there. I'm just building the world and setting up for everyone's frame of mind as the story really begins, so bear with me, guys.

SO, that Life is Strange: Before the Storm release?! Amiright? Who else is excited for the next episode? And Rachel motherfucking Amber, bitches! She's tiny! And cute af! And flirty! And Chloe has no fucking chill, I stg!

*ahem* fangirling moment over now, promise.

Read on!Belfast, Ireland; Earth

"Are you sure you can't stay for another week or two? You only just used up your maternity leave; you've still got months of time off to use. Why not stay planet-side with us?"

The woman, Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard, shook her head sadly and tore her eyes away from the similarly mournful stares of her husband and two month old daughter. "I can't, Ned. I mean, I know I could, but there's so much trouble in the Outer Reaches…I have to go."

"I know," Ned said quietly.

Their daughter decided to pipe up with a mighty squawk, face rapidly pinking with her tiny fury. Hannah dropped her bag and swooped in to pluck her daughter from her husband's arms, nestling her close and murmuring as she rocked gently from side to side. Ned smiled gently, eyes gleaming with half-serious humor and unshed tears. "Why can't I ever get her to settle like that? You make it look so easy."

Hannah continued rocking her and patted Ned's scruffy cheek fondly. "You just haven't gotten to know her yet."

"Because you won't stop holding her," he joked.

"Can you blame me? She's beautiful. Perfect." Hannah looked down at her daughter, now cooing to herself in her arms. "Our perfect Arryn Lee Shepard."

As if already recognizing her name, Arryn opened her eyes and her mismatched blue and brown eyes stared at her for a second before they crossed.

"Silly girl," Hannah chuckled, tickling her stomach and grinning as Arryn cooed. Her freckle dusted nose wrinkled as hair escaped Hannah's bun and tickled her sensitive skin and she reached up to tug at the errant strands with a pudgy hand. "Ah ah, not mommy's hair. She needs it in one piece, not gummed to death."

Ned delicately untangled her hair from Arryn's grasp and wrapped the strands back into their bun. He cupped Hannah's jaw in his hand and kissed her once, twice, lingering with their daughter pressed securely between them as he felt tears prick at his eyes again. "I love you," he whispered.

Hannah leaned her forehead against his and felt her lips tremble in a smile. "I love you, too, Ned. Keep her safe." She cautiously transferred Arryn to his arms and she immediately began fussing, squirming in discontent in his arms. "Hold her close to your heart, let her listen to its rhythm," she said, urging Ned to have a tighter grip. "There you go, sweet girl."

Arryn slowly calmed herself as Ned bundled her closer, turning her head to nuzzle at his chest. "She's hungry. I left some milk in the fridge, but you'll have to get her some more before the end of the week." Hannah took a slow step backwards and nearly tripped over her bag. "Make sure you burp her after you've fed her, and don't let her sleep before seven, or she'll never sleep through the night. When you get-"

"Darling, I know. I've been with you since her birth, remember?" Ned smiled sadly as Hannah nodded and shouldered her bag. She snapped to attention and saluted him jauntily, then relaxed and waved her hand.

"I love you both, be safe, I'll call you when I can."

Ned waved at her and Arryn turned her head toward her mother's voice, eyes opening again so she was faced with her husband's blue-grey gaze and her daughter's mismatched blue and brown eyes. "We love you," Ned said, lifting Arryn's little arm so she could wave goodbye. "Say bye to mommy, sweetling. We won't see her for a while." Arryn cried out and Hannah twisted on her heel, disappearing into the skycar that would take her to the space port.

A small transport was waiting to take her out to the Kilamanjaro, and they would be venturing into the Outer Reaches to go after some Batarian slavers that were wreaking havoc on the less defensible colonies on the edges of civilized space. She allowed herself a final look at her family, standing on the porch of their house on the outskirts of the city. She finally let her tears fall as the trees swallowed up their home and her husband and daughter disappeared from sight, leaning back into the seat in the back of the skycar. She watched the ruins of castles and old villages underneath them as they flew toward Greenwich and anxiously fingered the two necklaces hanging between her breasts. Her dogtags jingled gently with each twist of her fingers and, on a thinner chain, a hand hammered pendant of a baying wolf caught the sunlight intermittently. She lifted the pendant on its long chain and thumbed it fondly, twisting it subtly to it would catch the light and glimmer with each motion. She lifted the pendant to her lips and kissed it, whispering, "Keep them safe."

She never saw the skycar barreling toward her.

Ned Shepard forced his hands to stop trembling as he leaned over his daughter, dressing her in the nicest, warmest clothes he could find amongst the pile of clothes littering the dresser in her room. He swallowed harshly as he zipped up Arryn's jacket and lifted her into his arms. His daughter was silent, mismatched eyes locked on his face and expression somber as though she, too, recognized the need for solemnity. "Well, we can't keep them waiting, can we, sweetling?"

Ned took a deep, shuddering breath and left Arryn's room with her bundled in his arms, keeping his eyes steadfastly averted from the shut door directly across the hallway. He hurried down the stairs and locked the door behind himself, lingering on the porch with his eyes staring through the waiting towncar. He haltingly walked down the path and slid into the backseat silently. He cradled his daughter close until they reached the cemetery and clenched his jaw hard enough that it ached when he saw the throng of people standing nearby.

A man in Alliance blues with caramel skin and sad, dark eyes, approached him as he exited the towncar. "Ned, I can't even…Hannah was a sister to me." He offered his hand and stumbled back in surprise as Ned threw an arm around his shoulders, shaking silently as he kept his arm securely around Arryn.

"I know, David. Thank you for coming here, she would have…Hannah…" Ned took several deep, shuddering breaths and stepped back. His eyes shone wetly but his head was high as he turned toward the gathered people, Anderson at his side with a steadying hand on his shoulder. Ned watched his daughter numbly as the priest said some words over the casket by the open ground and only looked up when he heard the first volley of gunfire. Seven Alliance soldiers aimed over the casket and fired again, and once more, then returned to parade rest, and he felt the first tears streak down his face as Arryn cried out in shock and fear.

Anderson and another soldier folded up the flag resting over Hannah's casket and his friend strode over with solemn dignity to present it to him. He clutched the soft fabric against his stomach, curled beneath Arryn's slight weight, and stood while the mourners passed before him and offered their sympathy.

David was the last in line and he pressed a large hand on Ned's shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with me for a while? It's only been a few weeks, Ned…you shouldn't have stayed there all this time."

"I can't…that house, those pictures…they're all the memories I have left. Everything is there, and Arryn…" He turned his teary gaze down to his daughter, who continued to fuss in his arms after the volley of gunfire. "She looks so much like her…"

"Ned, please, stay with me, at least for the weekend. I don't want you to-"

"Hurt myself? Kill myself? I wish I could…but I can't do that to her. She's all I have now. I won't let her grow up orphaned because I was too weak to live without…the love of my life." Ned's gaze stared over Anderson's shoulder at the casket that was being lowered into the ground. "Can I just?...take her, take Arryn back to yours, I just need to-"

"I know." Anderson eased Arryn from Ned's arms and stood aside so he could approach the grave. "Get some peace, then come home to your daughter. Okay?"

"Yeah."

Anderson watched Ned walk robotically toward the casket and then looked down at Arryn, whose blue and brown eyes stared up at him enigmatically. "Your dad has a tough time ahead of him, little one. Here's hoping you keep him from totally losing himself." Anderson got in the skycar waiting to take him back to his home off-base and watched Ned's hunched form disappear into the distance.

Ned clutched his jacket around his stomach as dirt covered the casket and felt his legs give out as it disappeared from sight. His fist clenched, fingers biting into his palm, and the warm sting of metal pinching his skin drew his gaze away from the hole in the ground. A ring made of four different metals from the various Council homeworlds, colorful and strong, gleamed on his left ring finger. He took it off and turned the ring slowly so he could read the inscription inside the ring.

Family, duty, honor. N & H For our love will endure.

His eyes welled up again and spilled over his wind chapped cheeks, and Ned knelt by Hannah's grave until the dirt was compacted in the hole, then dusted off his pants and staggered toward the road. He began walking slowly in the direction David's house was located, well familiar with it as he and Hannah had been friends with the man since his wife – deceased, dead – entered the military and met him. He slipped the ring off his finger and read the inscription again – Family…love – and wiped at his streaming eyes with the back of his hand. He smiled mournfully and slid the ring back on his finger, pressing his hand to his chest as he walked down the street.

He never saw the hooded stranger appear in the alley as he passed by.

David Anderson wept over the coffin being lowered to the ground, unashamed in his grief as it disappeared into the earth. He held the squalling baby tighter to his chest and gently rocked her as the mourners shook his hand and their heads sorrowfully. When he was at last alone, he stared at the twin markers that rested side by side in a secluded grove in the cemetery. The first snow had fallen the night before and gentle flakes fell on his shoulders now, innocuous amongst the sadness filling him. He brushed a gloved hand over the fresh, crisp inscriptions on Hannah's and Ned's graves and whispered, "I wish I could have done more. I wish I could do more," then turned on his heel and walked away.

Arryn wailed in his arms as he walked away and he hushed her gently. "I know, little one, I know. I wish I was able to…but I can't. This will be better for you than anything else." He stopped on the curb outside the cemetery where two cars idled quietly. His towncar was parked in front of a nondescript skycar, in front of which stood two men wearing suits and identical somber expressions.

"Mister Anderson?" One asked, removing his sunglasses. David nodded silently and the man held out his hand. "We've been expecting you."

"I'm sorry, I had to…my friend, he just-"

"We understand you just buried the father today, and the mother has passed on as well?"

Anderson nodded. "Her father was…accosted, nearly two weeks ago, and her mother…she was killed by a hit and run skycar driver over a month ago."

The man nodded gravely and gestured toward Arryn. "We understand there are no other living relatives and there were no godparents named?"

"That is correct."

"And you are unable to care for her…"

"I can't abandon my job. I wish I could, somedays." Anderson looked down at Arryn's face, scrunched up in discomfort and mouth working against the buttons on his coat. "I wish I could take care of her."

"But you can't, so we will find a home that can."

"And she will be well cared for?" Anderson jerked his head up sharply, holding tightly to the infant as the man's silent companion reached for her.

The man smiled somewhat toothily and nodded. "She will be taken care of; I promise every need will be met."

David searched his empty gaze for a long moment, then turned his sight down to the child in his arms. He stroked her chubby cheek with a gloved finger and smiled wetly as she turned her head toward the digit and began suckling on it. "Be safe, little one. I will miss you and your parents dearly." He cautiously turned the infant over to the silent man and watched them get into the skycar, tracking its progress until it disappeared from his sight. He sighed heavily and scratched his neck, eying the tombstones at his back and the towncar before him, then slid into the seat and shut his eyes, resting his head on the back of the seat.

"Is this really her? Are we sure?" The man held Arryn like she was a ticking bomb, face scrunched up uncomfortably as the infant squirmed and screwed up her face in preparation to scream.

"Yes, but to be safe…" His companion took out a small box shaped object and a needle snicked out of the top. He quickly pricked Arryn's shoulder and she jumped and began wailing. Within seconds, the handheld machine beeped cheerily and the man smiled mirthlessly. "Yep, she's it. Ought to make the Illusive Man happy." He eyed the crying baby irritably and snapped, "Can't you shut her up?"

The man holding Arryn jolted as she screamed louder and placed his palm over her mouth, hoping to muffle the sound, if nothing else. Unexpectedly, she quickly quieted to hiccups and sniffled and began rooting against his hand. He crooked a finger and she latched on, suckling hungrily and shoving her head against his hand when no milk was forthcoming. "Don't get attached," his partner said as he noticed his gobsmacked expression, "we're just dropping the brat off, then we gotta go track down another."

He nodded and firmed his expression until the skycar dropped down on the edge of the ship ports, pulling his spit slick finger from her mouth when they climbed out and ignoring her cries as they handed her over to a dispassionate woman wearing a suit. They disappeared back into the skycar and left the woman staring down at the wailing infant with a frown on her face.

"You're certainly verbose."

She walked onto a featureless ship and set Arryn down in a small bed with high railings and then walked out, shutting the door behind her to drown out her persistent cries. She knocked on the only other door in the tiny ship and waited until a coarse looking man poked his head out and stared at her wordlessly. "Get us up in the air, we've got to make up time." He nodded and disappeared and she retreated back into the small, sterile room where Arryn was sobbing and hiccupping.

"Initial readings seem good," she said to the room at large, picking up a small earpiece and fitting it in while ignoring her cries. "Testing, three, two, testing." She scanned a monitor that appeared above Arryn's head and nodded to herself. Pressing a button on the side of the small bed, a transparent wall appeared and Arryn's cries were abruptly silenced, although she still cried profusely. The woman spoke quickly into the earpiece, eyes roving across the baby's body and the monitor floating before her. "Vitals are normal, heart rate elevated for obvious reasons…physical growth and development appears to be on track; we'll need to speed that up…age, thirteen weeks…right in the middle of the chart, good, very good."

She typed quickly as she spoke, eyes darting between Arryn, the readings on a separate monitor, and her own. After she finished typing, she disabled the soundproof barrier and winced as Arryn's cries reached her ears again. "Can't have that." She picked up a small mask and fitted it over her mouth and nose, then dispensed a mixture of nitrous oxide and sevorflurane through it. Arryn's cries quieted and within the minute she was completely limp on the small bed. The woman nodded to herself and checked the flow through the mask, then slipped on a pair of gloves and picked up one of several needles. "Now, then, let's figure out what is in store for you."

Unspecified Area, Pragia; Terminus System

"Prepare for exposure; doors locking."

"Doors locked." The mechanic snick of metal sliding home echoed through the sterile room.

"Vents closing."

"Vents closed."

"Oxygen masks."

As one, the handful of scientists slid their masks over their noses and mouths. The head scientist typed on the monitor floating before him and glanced into the small room through the one way mirror. "Exposure to element zero beginning in three, two, one." He input a command on the monitor and the infant laying in the small bed on the other side of the glass wriggled anxiously. A small stone, innocuous but for the glowing veins running through it, was uncovered from beneath the protective metallic sheet and rose to sit by the bed frame. "Exposure to eezo for thirty minutes, mark." A timer appeared floating at eye level and the group of scientists relaxed marginally. They spoke amongst themselves, glancing occasionally through the glass at the squirming infant who glowed eerily in the slowly pulsing light of the stone.

"So, this is it." The woman who spoke was breathless with wonder, eyes locked on the infant through the glass and gleaming intently. "This is how Project Olympus begins. This one child. What's her name?"

"It doesn't matter, chances are she won't survive and we'll have to start again anyway." Spoken tersely by a sour looking older man, he glared through his mask at the woman and sneered when she turned her nose up at him. "If it really matters that much to you, the girl is called SA DA 9 30 in her files."

The woman shook her head and regarded the glass again. "It's kind of sad that she's been reduced to a serial number in a file on a computer."

"If you dislike it that much, then get out of here; we don't need your conscience suddenly kicking in partway through and biting us all in the ass."

"As if. I've waited ten years for this to come to fruition, there's no way I'm backing out now."

"Then shut your mouth."

The woman dropped into sullen silence and watched the timer count down. The man typed a code on the monitor as the clock dropped below ten minutes and the stone began breaking down. It released noxious fumes as it crumbled into dust and the infant began crying when she inhaled the first whiff. As she cried, more and more of the gas swept into her lungs and she started wailing and flailing her arms. "Dispensing gaseous eezo, monitoring infant's vitals." He watched the monitor carefully as more of the gas was inhaled through the infant's nose and mouth, eyes glittering above his oxygen mask. "Five minutes left, approximately thirty percent of element zero remaining to integrate."

Half a minute later, a siren blared and the monitor flashed red. "Shit, heart rate spiking, brain activity is too rapid!" He furiously typed and a mixture of anesthesia was dispersed into the air around the infant. Within the minute, her frantic crying and wiggling had quieted, although she still trembled and whimpered occasionally. The man stared at the monitor with his breath held and sighed in relief as her vitals dropped into acceptable ranges. "Heart rate and brain activity still high, but within acceptable ranges, barely. Three minutes remaining, approximately fifteen percent of eezo left."

"Shit, I don't want to be you if that hadn't worked," one of the other scientists said with a tense chuckle. "The Illusive Man would've had your head on a spike if she died."

"But she didn't." He gestured grandly at the infant with a smirk on his lips. "I have this under control." As if to prove him wrong, the alarm went off again and his eyes widened. "What the fuck? This can't – heart rate declining, no, god dammit!" He watched helplessly as the infant started to convulse and cough in the tiny bed, unable to administer any drugs to counteract the seizure. "This wasn't – this was never predicted as a side effect!"

"Dammit, we can't just let her die!"

"We can't very well run in there, either!"

The woman stared with wide eyes at the glass and then dashed for the door to the side of the viewing window. "No!" She was tackled by the others in the room and dragged back, her motions arrested by the hands that held her arms in a painful lock behind her back. "The fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Trying to save-"

"You can't save her! You can't even acknowledge that she exists! This job, this Project Olympus, does not exist! Can you get that through your empty head?" The man got in her face as he yelled and jabbed his finger into her chest for emphasis.

She dropped her head and nodded once, listening to the alarm echo through the sterile room. It abruptly cut out, replaced by the monotonous drone of a flat-lined heartbeat, and she sniffled quietly.

"Fuck." The man slammed his fist against his leg and meandered over to the monitor. He half heartedly typed on it and stared through the window at the motionless little body laying on the bed, mouth creased into a frown. "Transfer of eezo complete, less than two percent remaining in the air. Subject is…unresponsive. Heart beat nonexistent, brain activity absent, unable to attempt resuscitation."

Behind him, he heard the woman sob once and sighed again. "Notes; subject appeared to respond well to radiation, but while transfer through inhalation was more direct, it was also more harmful. Time of death-" His eyes wandered across the second screen to his right and his jaw hung open. "Uhm, previous statement rescinded. Heartbeat present again, brain activity slowly climbing…this is unbelievable!"

The scientists all crowded around the viewing window, watching in fascination as the infant's chest slowly rose and fell with each labored breath, hands waving lazily in the air as her eyelids fluttered. Her head fell to the side as her eyes opened and the scientists gasped, staring at the mismatched blue and brown eyes that stared at the one way glass, the inner irises shot through with a bright, metallic blue.

"Hurt?"

"You'll be unconscious for the surgery, so no." The doctor impassively washed his hands as a nurse prepped the squirming toddler, grabbing hold of a swinging leg and strapping it to the table efficiently. The toddler whined at the cold cuff that immobilized her and reached for it and was unceremoniously pushed onto her back. The nurse strapped down one arm, then the other, then her remaining foot, and stood at the side of the table motionlessly. "She secure?"

"Yes."

"Good. Proceed."

"Of course." She inserted an IV into the toddler's elbow, eying her seriously when she squirmed in her limited space and whimpered.

"Don't like needles."

"Stay still, girl."

She grudgingly stilled herself and watched the nurse slip the needle under her skin, inhaling sharply but not moving. The nurse started the IV and turned to the slight man who was fiddling with a small dial attached to an oxygen mask. "Anesthesia?"

"Ready." He handed her the mask and she pulled it over the girl's mouth and nose and they watched her drift off almost immediately. "Heart rate slightly elevated, vitals normal otherwise." The doctor snapped a pair of gloves over his hands and pulled his mask over his mouth and nose, then turned to the table. The nurse flicked on the powerful overhead lamps and the girl seemed to glow under the stark lights, disheveled dark brown hair wild on the sterile table and skin pale from lack of sunlight, freckles standing out starkly.

"Procedure ready to begin, nurse and anesthesiologist standing by," he said, speaking into the small microphone attached to the earpiece. "If the nurse would begin by shaving her head?" The nurse picked a pair of scissors off the tray by the table and began lopping off the toddler's hair as the doctor continued speaking into the earpiece. "After the subject has been shaved and cleaned, the first implant will be inserted in the motor cortex of the brain, followed by one between the C1 and C2 vertebrae. Depending on her reaction to those, the other two that will help with initial power dispersal may be inserted as well. At a later date, more will be inserted at intervals down the spinal cord and tested for reception."

The nurse finished taking off most of the girl's hair and reached for the straight razor, lathering her head with soap and stripping the uneven hair from her scalp. When she washed the last of the suds off her skin, her head gleamed under the bright lights, interspersed with bloody spots and raw areas of skin. "Ready to make the first marks, doctor."

They bent over the unconscious girl and drew on her bare skin in preparation for the cuts he would make. "Local anesthetic." When the area was numbed, he picked up the scalpel on the tray and dragged it along the line of her temple, just inside where her hair line would be. Blood welled up immediately and the nurse dabbed at the slow dribble as he cut deeper. They worked efficiently, speaking occasionally when one would need something or as the doctor made notes about the progress. Several hours later, they straightened and he groaned as the vertebrae of his spine popped. The nurse snipped the last of the suturing thread off, the incision marked by a thin line that was dotted with neat rows of stitches.

"How does she look," the doctor asked the anesthesiologist.

He glanced at the monitor before him and nodded. "Heart rate a little slower than normal now, but otherwise everything looks good."

"Are you good to go for another?"

The nurse stretched as she nodded and they unbuckled the girl's restraints and turned her onto her stomach. They buckled the straps again, washed the back of her head and made more marker lines where the next implant would go, then the doctor picked up a new, sterile scalpel and made the incision.

The little girl stumbled on the grated walkway and felt a rough hand shove her when she stopped. She glared over her shoulder with as much hate as her five year old face could muster and stiffened as the man – Franks, her handler, her mind supplied helpfully – laughed at her expression. "Ye cannae intimidate me with that look, girl, so turn 'round an' keep walkin'." His thick Irish accent was soothing to her ears, being nearly the only one she had heard in her short life outside of the few scientists that poked at her. She saw many other people when she was taken out of her room each day, but none of them ever spoke to her – and how she hated the way they spoke like she didn't hear them, couldn't understand them, or talked with each other in low tones outside her range of hearing.

She stopped in front of the metal door that she had memorized as her own – seventh on the left, halfway between the hallway that led to the lab and the wide double doors she had never been through – and waited while Franks keyed something into his omni tool. Once the light to the side of the door blinked green, she was prodded into the room and left by herself, listening to the locks click into place on the other side. She stared around her room at the small bed, dresser, table with a chair where she took her meals, and a door that led to a tiny bathroom in the far corner. As always, a tray with nutrient rich, tasteless food was sitting on the table, a small stack of paper sitting beside it with a pencil.

She ignored the table in favor of walking into the bathroom and stood on the stool in front of the faucet, staring at her reflection in the mirror she could just see into. Her face was round still but hard edges already gleamed in her heterochromatic eyes, blue and brown glinting in the bright lights and the electric blue shot through her irises catching the synthetic light eerily. Her skin was pale from lack of natural light and dusted with freckles across her cheeks and nose, ropy scars peeking out from beneath sable hair at her temples. Her hands were covered in chalk dust from the day's lesson in balance and stability on the tippy beam set up in the room next to the lab – she didn't like going there, the scientists always stuck a needle in her arm and, once, she fell asleep and woke up with bandages wrapped around her head and a headache – and she stuck them under the cold water to wash them.

She ate her bland supper and stared at the papers full of her lessons in reading and writing; large, blocky letters and words that spelled simple sentences she had already memorized and traced endlessly for the past week and no longer interested her. Once she was done copying the letters in the blank space beneath the printed words in her careful writing, she set her pencil down and left the papers and empty tray on the table. She pulled her pants off and left them in a pile by the door, then slid beneath the thin sheets just as the lights went out and stared at the softly glowing wall clock that displayed the time – eight pm – until her eyes grew heavy, and her head tipped to the side as she fell asleep.

"But I always go to-"

"Nae today, ye don't. Ye go this way, girl." Franks kept his hand heavy on her shoulder, guiding her down the hallway, but taking a right at the end instead of left toward the lab and training area.

She counted the doors they walked past and had just reached nine when Franks' hand tightened its grip and she was pulled through a windowed doorway. The room, walls lined with stainless steel counters and cabinets and a similar table in the middle, unsettled her somehow, and she reached up to scratch absently at a ropy scar that spanned the back of her neck.

"Get on the table, girl." She barely resisted before she was set unceremoniously on the cold metal and fidgeted as Franks stood by her rigidly.

A few minutes later, three people in white coats filed in through the door and stood in a loose half circle in front of them. Their eyes gleamed brightly with fascination and excitement, fingers ticking quickly on their omni tools before they turned their gazes on her as one. "So, this is SA DA 9 30," one said breathlessly, almost sounding in awe of the skinny eight year old sitting nervously in front of them. "I wonder if she will be capable of everything they've theorized. So many possibilities…" Her tone dropped off thoughtfully as she caught the girl's chin and tilted her head one way, then another, looking at the slowly fading scars that lined her temples and regularly peeked out of her hairline from behind her ears to the nape of her neck. "When will they start working with her?"

"Not until she's healed after this surgery," an older man said, washing his hands by the sink. Another, smaller man sat behind a little table and started playing with the dials, watching a screen hovering in front of his face until he seemed satisfied. "Get her ready."

The woman stepped back as Franks told the girl to lie down on her stomach and they strapped her arms and legs into the buckles on the edges of the table. She struggled automatically against the restraints and Franks grabbed her hair roughly. "Calm yerself, girl, or I'll give ye somethin' to struggle against." She settled reluctantly and stiffened when she felt the cold edge of a blade against her neck. It sliced through her shirt and bared her back, and the regularly spaced scarring down her spine, to the harsh lights overhead, leaving her skin racing with goosebumps as the cool air hit it.

"Are you ready with sedation?"

"One minute…approximate weight, fifty pounds, age…okay, go for it."

The woman pulled a mask from beside the table and fitted it over her nose and mouth, and the girl felt herself grow drowsy as the people continued to speak over her. Once she was out, the woman washed her hands and snapped on a pair of gloves and waited for the older man to fix his mask over his face before handing him a marker. "First incision goes over the T4, then T9, then L4." They drew on her skin with markers and made casual conversation over her body as they worked.

"God, if this works…"

"It's still experimental."

"I know that, but we've done so much research, it has to work. We've put so much time and money-"

"You mean the Illusive Man has."

The woman waved her hand carelessly at the man standing opposite her. "We've put the time and effort in, though. It will work," she said certainly. "With the placement of these extra implants, it should give her better control over the biotics without the backlash of the energy overloading her extremities. She already has the cranial implants, these will only fine tune them more and allow for more even power dispersion."

He hummed as he made a final mark on her skin and stood up. "Okay. Ready to start?" She nodded and handed him a scalpel. As he made the first shallow cut, the girl twitched in her restraints and he stopped to throw a look over his shoulder at the man sitting at the little table.

"I put her under with the correct dosage, I know my job," he said defensively.

"Obviously not; she shouldn't even be moving."

"I can't really give her a-"

"Do it."

The man held up his hands in defeat and adjusted the amount of gas flowing into the mask, then nodded silently. The older man made another incision and his eyes narrowed over his mask when the girl's arms twitched. "It will have to do. Make sure those straps are tight," he told the woman. As she checked the restraints, he widened the incision between her shoulder blades and dabbed at the blood welling up from the cut with a cotton swab. "Get the implant ready, I don't think she's going to stay under for long."

There you have it! Promise these won't be frequent, but I'm leaving this here to let you guys know that I'm ready and willing to ramble, fangirl, explain, cajole, and discuss whenever you want. Also over on AO3 if you want to bug me there instead, under the same penname. Otherwise, leave a note with your thoughts, and I'll see you on the other side! Have a fantastic September!