Inflame

My soul
Bleeding black
My skin
Ablaze

Push me
to the flame
And watch me burn

Bones to ashes
And I am but dust
In a storm.

.~'*'~.

10th October 2185. Normandy. Sometime past midnight.

I'm no saint.

In fact I'm as fucking far away from a saint as one could possibly be. I'm a sinner. A killer. Ruthless and unapologetic. I'm the rabid wolf watching you from the dark, sensing your fear; hooked up on the ultimate moment when my teeth tear into your warm flesh. Welcome to the real Circle of Life, bitch.

And still… despite my deeply ingrained addiction to violence, whenever I fuck up I feel the unexplainable need to bake.

I fuck up a damn lot.

That's why my cookies are unbe-fucking-livably good - and on the day, when being a homicidal criminal doesn't cut it anymore, I'm going to open the Cupcake Asylum and sell pastries in little gift baskets.

Aww, relax, I'm just screwing with you. We all know that crime will never stop being lucrative.

It's still kind of a weirdly comforting thought. One that diverts my mind from the real reason why I'm standing in the Normandy's galley in the dead of the night, baking sweet innocent cookies.

15 days. I stayed clear for 15 bloody days. Had thought I had sat this temporary insanity out. Wrong. So wrong. I violate the dough with the spoon.

Die, die, die.

The dough gives in silently. It neither erases the stinging feel of shame that burns my skin nor the distinct soreness between my legs.

I should have never gone there.

And I certainly should have never allowed myself to be touched by the merc's words. I mean, it's just another sordid story of violence and betrayal as it happened out there a thousandfold with every damn moment that passed. Maybe it was the bitterness in his voice. The hot-searing hatred in his eyes, I'm so fucking familiar with. He spoke about Vido and there was something… something that connected through the scarred wounds, the endless rage and the deep black abyss within. Memories clawed their way to the surface and before I knew what I was doing I spilled my guts and no thoughts wasted on the bloody mess it would leave behind.

I spoke about the facility and then I fucked the hell out of him again. No deal, no agenda attached this time. Just because… it made me feel good somehow. A little less like some screwed-up subject and a little more like a real person. A person who actually deserves to be cared for.

Of course it is just another delusion. This world's a jungle and you're either the merciless bitch seeking nothing but your own pleasures or the free-for-all doormat. The victim.

My knuckles turn white on the spoon. Been there. Hell if I ever go back.

The oven beeps, I shake myself and set the hot tray on the counter with a lot more force than necessary. I dump the finished mass on the second tray. The soft sound of footsteps gives me a start. No. The old bastard certainly knows better than to come here. Not after I fled from the Cargo Hold like a freaked out virgin at the sight of a loaded dick. Again.

Maybe if I just kill him quickly enough? I certainly could get rid of the corpse using the thrash compacter before anyone would notice.

Yeah, yeah. Instead I busy myself with shoving the ready tray in the oven and start to cut the still warm mass into squares. I squint up and it's a relief to see that it's just Shepard. That is until she opens her mouth.

"Cookies?"

I swear, any more amusement on her face and I'm going to punch her.

"No. High-nutrition field rations. Nuts, oats, dried fruits, mainly acai; and I use this specially refined asari honey. Tastes like ass but gives four times the calories of a standard energy bar. I've the bloody feeling I better stock up before you're working me to death," I hear myself say way too pleasantly.

What is wrong with me? Quickly I add a menacing scowl. Keep it up despite noticing the dark circles below her haunted eyes. Her face too haggard to be glossed-over by all her disturbing mirth. As much as I want to ignore it, I've unfortunately been trapped on the ship for far too long to unsee and unhear what is going on. Not that I cared, of course.

"If you want my opinion: it was a fucking mistake to let Vakarian off the ship. You need people who can gun things down on first sight."

"Uh-huh. It wasn't as if I had much of a choice. Couldn't just tie him down and bolt his ass to the deck, y'know?" She mumbled, her cheeks coloring.

I shrug and my lips curl up. So scuttlebutt's right. Princess Buttercup is worked up because she screwed her alien toy boy off before he got her little xenophilic trunk humped. I wonder if she's trying to lick the drell next –the green-skinned moralizer obviously can't wait to drop his pants for her. Shit. And everyone says I'm the freak in here.

"So. Massani, eh…"

For a second I fantasize about shoving the knife into her eye socket, but yeah. Somehow I have my doubts that it would stop the likes of her.

"Fuck you, Shepard," I growl but something in the way she's grinning at me is oddly contagious.

Ew. Me and Commander Awesome, BFF.

I think I'm going to ralph.

.~'*'~.

2 hours later.

I still can't sleep.

I'm bunked down in my cot and stare at the underside of the Engineering deck, chewing on one of my special cookies, pondering… things. Apparently this is the night for everybody to show off their scars, but hey - don't get any ideas. Just because that woman is damaged by her past as well, it doesn't mean I'm trusting her. She still chose to put up with the Alliance and all the other compliant bullshit – voluntarily. If this isn't the proof that Shepard lost all contact with the mothership, I don't know what else is.

Feeling the buzz of Red Sand kicking in, I fish for the datapad that grants me access to some of Cerberus' databases. Despite being the only reason for me to board this flying loony bin in the first place, every time I'm holding the bloody thing in hand, I'm feeling strangely hesitant. It disgusts me, but I think I'm afraid. No matter how much I carve for revenge, how badly I want to pursue and kill each and everyone involved, there is always this little girl inside me that just wants to forget…

Thanks to the Red Sand I have no troubles to ignore the little wimp now. I feel faster. Stronger. Confident to seek out and destroy whatever stands in my way. I take a breath and start my search.

Talking to Massani earlier had been a disgrace – but it also made me remember things. Details. A name.

Teltin.

They called the facility Teltin.