𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂.

#𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂.     “ perfect!  “   independent roleplay blog for   𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒𝐎𝐍   of bioware’s    𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓   as told by    𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐀    ( she/her,  gmt +8,  23   ).                                                     𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑.  𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.     𝐍𝐀𝐕.

❛  𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙼𝙴, 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝙲𝙷.  ❜   she hisses:  her voice barely raised, but pointed like glass.   miranda had what?   … read her file, taken one look at her?   and she thought she had jack all figured out.   that was her first mistake.   ❛  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂, 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷. 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙼𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚆𝙵𝚄𝙻 𝙻𝙾𝚃.  ❜   much to jack’s dismay, but she’ll use it to her advantage, now.

❛  … 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝚆𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙶?  ❜   she taunts, faux sweetness returning to her tongue with the intent to mock.   ❛  𝚂𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄, 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸'𝙼 𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳?  ❜   she suggests scathingly, in reference to the illusive man.   jack suspects there’s no real danger of that, but she’ll sow the seeds, regardless.   ❛  … 𝙾𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙳, 𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃?  ❜   speaking of getting bored.

    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.  at least not for miranda.  she laughs all the same.  the noise is dry and bitter and,  the one to stand above the rest,  it’s  infuriated.  she defends herself here as does on the field,  teeth grit,  fists clenched.      ❛  𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑫? 𝑭𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑲𝑳𝒀, 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰𝑺𝑵'𝑻 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑩𝑳𝑬. 𝑰𝑵 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑻, 𝑰'𝑴 𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑨𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑼𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑫  𝑰𝑻. 𝑰'𝑴 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑶𝑷 𝑪𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑺 𝑶𝑭𝑭𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑻. 𝑰 𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝒁𝑨𝑹𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑱𝑬𝑪𝑻 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑩𝑳𝑬--   ❜        there’s no telling how long she goes on.  even miranda isn’t listening anymore;  she’s venting,  which feels damn   𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃  in the moment.   but when it’s over?  that’s when then the silence sets.  catching her breath with heaving chest heaving,  and it’s about all she will take.  before it’s zero’s turn to laugh the datapad is thrown to her feet  &. miranda is up the stairs.    she can only hope it’s damaged.  

❛  𝙵𝚄𝙽𝙽𝚈!  ❜   it sounds like a joke, to jack –  poorly delivered, if that.   miranda should really workshop her punchlines, they’re getting predictable.   ❛  𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈! … 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝙻𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝙳.  ❜   and if she really does believe it, then she’s even dumber than she looks, jack decides.   her professionalism was quick to evaporate, now that her boss wasn’t around;  the biotic takes a mental note of that, with pleasure.

❛  𝚂𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙻𝚈!  ❜  the blows off the insult with ease.   she’s heard worse drip from the mouths of cerberus officers.   and even better:  this one couldn’t lay a finger on her.   ❛  𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿, 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙳, 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.  ❜   she sarcasm is cutting.   it’s what miranda suspects her of, isn’t it?   jack will give as good as she gets.   if miranda wants to play hero, she’ll happily provide her with a villain.   little else for jack to do aboard a cerberus ship, other than cause problems.   ❛  … 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶.  ❜

    𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃,   miranda isn’t so stubborn to refuse that truth.   jack,  filled from scribbled head to scribbled toe with insult  &.  injury.   𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒.  if only disrespect didn’t buzz &.  bite at her patience like a mosquito,  miranda could return rotten smile with rotten smile and be done with the bite.  but this one itches  &. scratches.  there’s more emotion  ( and fury )  in this perfect soldier than father,  and any,  accounted for.     ❛   𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑾𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑳𝑶𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲, 𝑺𝑼𝑩𝑱𝑬𝑪𝑻 𝒁𝑬𝑹𝑶.

at least (it appears) the distain is mutual.   jack shakes her head, as if disagreeing with even her most base sentiment.   no-one ‘works’ for the illusive man;  that would imply resignation was an option.   someone will have to let jack know, if putting in two weeks notice got her out of this bullshit.   no, she knew better.   miranda was a dog with its leg stuck in a trap, whether or not she knew it.   this didn’t grant any sympathy from jack, of course.   the bitch would get what she deserved, eventually.   they all did.   ❛  𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃, 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂. 𝙸 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴.  ❜ 

❛  𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙴: 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙿𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 ‘𝙷𝙰𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚈 𝙱𝙸𝚃𝙲𝙷’ 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁, 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶?  ❜   the condescension is ill-concealed on her tongue.   jack knows miranda can’t touch her;  the illusive man had gone to far too much trouble tracking her down, for her to be expendable.   cerberus needed her –  miranda needed her.   and nothing was funnier to jack, than that.   ❛  … 𝙾𝚁 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝙸𝚃 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈?  ❜

    𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐗 ,   when they’d rather ball into fists.   of course,  they wouldn’t stop there.   oh,  they’d sink into her face    𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄   nicely.  give the living migraine something to actually complain about.  is a little bit of authority really so painful?   ❛   𝑰𝑭 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑰 𝑫𝑰𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑨 𝑮𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑿𝒀 𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬, 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻'𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰'𝑫 𝑫𝑶 !    ❜    back down,  officer.    but what are words verses the blush reaching her ears, now?   

@cerbiotic·  💥 💥 💥

❛  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁, 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂?  ❜   she hissed —   syrup mixed with venom, landing on sickly sweet.   it’s intended to patronise her;  rot her teeth.   miranda had made it perfectly clear she deserved it, after the ‘welcome’ she had given jack upon boarding the normandy.   not that it came as any surprise:  she had cerberus bitch written all over her.   the animosity was mutual, inevitable.   ❛  … 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙾𝚄𝚃, 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙳'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳?  ❜   her little routine in the conference room was as paper thin as that jumpsuit of hers:  jack saw right through it.

  𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄,   but she’s adjusted the same damn filing cabinet three times before succumbing to zero’s cave.  and isn’t this 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐘  why?  tongue like shiv,  surging with graceless aim.  miranda grinds her teeth,  and it’s hardly the worst of it.  the datapad could be so quickly crushed between her fingers.  does the criminal not understand her power?       ❛   𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑵,     ❜   and she tells herself its said in calm,  that frustration doesn’t graze the surface as enemy fire does.  heels rage against the metal floor,  frown clouding a busy gaze.  does jack intend to sleep like an animal?  she’s found the doghouse of the ship and bound herself to it.  how dramatic.   ❛   𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨𝑺 𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑴, 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺.    𝑻𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝑶 𝑲𝑬𝑬𝑷 𝑼𝑷, 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼?   ❜

❛  𝚆𝙰𝙸𝚃! 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺!  ❜   not so fast.   as the frost thaws on her fingertips, she can already feel the weight of new shackles on her wrists.   not again!  not again!   but what choice does she have?   ❛  𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙴! 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚆𝙴 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝚈 𝚆𝙰𝚈.  ❜   not a question, a demand.   ❛  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙴. 𝙸 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼.  ❜   and they are his people, n7 logo or not.   ❛  𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼.  ❜   she leaves no room to bargain …  and if he tries?   well, fuck him.   none of them will make it back to that big shiny ship, if he does.   hell —  she might even smash the glass and send them all into space:  go out in style.   ❛  … 𝚆𝙴 𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝙰 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙻?  ❜

  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒.  is she serious?  miranda’s smile is less a smile  &.  more a jab.   at the same time she laughs,    ❛   𝑨𝑩𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑳𝒀 𝑵𝑶𝑻,   ❜    shepard signatures the:      ‘ 𝖣𝖤𝖠𝖫.  ‘   any evidence of humour is scratched from the surface,   leaving something raw and red and inflamed.    ❛ 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑫, 𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻! ❜    when it comes to cerberus intel,  the cerbeus officer holds the reigns.  she holds onto that fury,  the one that gorges on the warning look thrown her way.  excuse me?   hands ball into fists.  fine.  commander can dance around the order of things when he feels fit,  but miranda has a rebuttle:      the illusive man will be hearing about this.                ‘  𝖬𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖮𝖴𝖳.   ‘

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇  ⇢ @cerbiotic​

      “"𝑰 𝑮𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑰 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 probably thank you and jacob,” her voice is laced with its usual coolness, its thoughtful evenness, though this time it works to disguise the queasiness that settles in the pit of her stomach. she doesn’t like thinking about that blank time, that void in her memory and consciousness that eaten up two years. even now, shepard finds most of the first minutes to be a blur, all hazy gaze and distant shouts and flickering machines. however, none of it shows on placid features, each word formed carefully on her tongue. “we barely made it out of that base. i wouldn’t have made it with you your help; others weren’t so lucky.” 

      it occurs to her that others weren’t so expensive to make and the thought sends a sharp chill down her spine. “do you have a few minutes to chat?” shepard’s gaze trails back to miranda, noticing a distinct lack of photos or any other sort of adornments decorating her desk. (the observation is tucked away for later.) “i thought it’d be best to try and sort out…parameters.” a pause. “i haven’t exactly always been on good terms with cerberus.” 

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄?   well that’s something rare.  it floats in the air between them,  miranda unsure how to grasp it and save face.  for all the two years spent with shepard,  she’s all ideas on what the commander’s made of,  without a clue on what to expect from her.  if her records are anything to go by...  those words should be meant.          ❛  𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬, 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹.    𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑷𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑼𝑷, 𝑰 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻  𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑰𝑳𝒀.   ❜     hands busy with reports---  yes,  already---  now silent,  remove themselves from the equation and into her lap.  firm posture,  eyes on shepard,  this conversation may not be a pretty one.  cerberus’ reputation certainly precedes them.  at least shepard is giving them a chance.  though---it’d be nearly criminal not to,  after what they’ve done for her. all those credits poured into fixing her bones  &.  sewing her back together.                   ❛   𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬.    𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑹𝒀, 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹; 𝑰'𝑽𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑫 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲. 𝑪𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑺 𝑰𝑺𝑵'𝑻 𝑵𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑳𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑬 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑫𝑬 𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬. ❜

her gaze locks to a new target:  anger mingling with offence behind her eyes.   who the fuck was this bitch?   she’ll be a dead bitch, if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut.   enraged, jack strikes forward a step —–  her biotics aflame, fangs bared to hiss:   ❛  𝙸'𝙳 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙴𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚃𝚁𝚈!  ❜   oh, she would.   who knows how long jack’s been locked up in that freezer?   smearing the walls with some cerberus blood seems well overdue.   but something isn’t right …  what’s with the girl talk?   her encounters with cerberus usually didn’t allow for conversation.   jack had a bad feeling about this —  worse than usual.   ❛  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽?  ❜

     𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊.  power pools on palms  &.  it humours miranda when it really shouldn’t.   𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐎 :  this short-fuse is clearly no match for the normandy  &.  crew.  and yet....  in shocking occurrence,  zero asks the right question.  what the hell  𝐈𝐒  going on?  if the illusive man was ever the sort,  miranda would be first to call bluff on this 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄.       ‘𝘞𝘌 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘠𝘖𝘜, 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘉𝘠 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘒𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘐𝘛: 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘚.  𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘐𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜'𝘙𝘌 𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘎𝘖𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘗... ’     metal on metal  &.  the roar of flame.  the warden threw us a party and he intends we make it.   fear and impatience meld.  miranda pushes---  ❛ 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹, 𝑾𝑬 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑶. ❜

❛  𝙸'𝙼 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄,  ❜   she growls.   lips pulled and teeth bared.   beware of the dog:  her bite is worse than her bark.  it’s written all over his ship, and his squad:  whore to the left, bore on the right.   from her brief assessment, she isn’t sure which one she likes less.   ❛  𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚄𝙿 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴,  ❜   she accuses, the panic rising in her throat.   the corner he backs her into is a familiar one.   ❛  𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙺 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙿𝙸𝙳?  ❜

𝐀 𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐂𝐓.   bouncing off the walls,  painted in disguise-- though this performer’s is painfully permanent.  judgement so natural it rolls off miranda’s shoulders,  it rests  𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃  on jut hip,  it glazes over the belt strap more than once.   asking--- seriously?   self-respect    𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘  doesn’t wander out this far in the galaxy.   it’s nothing short of embarrassing-   and miranda is not the first to choose peace.  not when poking the bear is a viable option.        ❛  𝑾𝑯𝒀 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑾𝑬 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑪𝑲 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑹?   ❜   spoken with rising smile  &. not with kind.   any measure of  𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇  in the sentiment doesn’t matter:   it’s fun to say  &.  if it frightens her, so be it.

❛  𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺!  ❜   out of the freezer, into the fire.   she’s disoriented, but she moves:  runs, kills.   instinct tells her that much.   jack could taste the remnants of stasis in her throat —  her breath a pale cloud of cold smoke.   she chokes on it, when she sees the ship.   ❛  … 𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂!  ❜   she spits the name from her mouth like blood (it tastes just the same).   she roars, anger bouncing off the walls and biotics licking her fists like flames.   not again!   her panic is interrupted by a gunshot, and not the merciful kind.  a guard drops beside her, and jack’s gaze finds that of her saviour:   n7, flanked with cerberus uniforms.   she can’t catch a break, huh?   ❛  … 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃?  ❜   she already knows — it’s what they all want.

       𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.   have you heard of the collectors?  we’re going nosediving —— with 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 to 𝐍𝐎 hope of return  &.  you’ve made the invite list.              ‘𝘔𝘠 𝘕𝘈𝘔𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘌𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐'𝘔 𝘎𝘌𝘛𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘗.‘   it’s a good thing shepard is doing the talking;  miranda’s way with words are subtle like a punch to the throat.   (  though it   𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒    that language is zero’s mother tongue.  )   besides,  miranda doesn’t respond very well to 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒,  even if this one’s on a short leash.

x.

     𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 &. 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋.     they outrun the shrapnel, not the sound.  she swears,  a fraction of a second longer  &.  the sliding door might’ve picked a fight with the heel of her boot.   but it doesn’t come to that.  foolish to think there’s a moment to catch breath;  there's NOT.   &.  here’s why.     the heaving figure is no kinder in the close light of day than in her cold distance.  miranda had seen.  she’d flung guards mercilessly,  flayed all who so much as stepped in her path.   𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃.  unstoppable force meets immovable object.  well.  three immovable objects,  if we’re counting.  shepard,  jacob,  and the officer all folded arms, narrow gaze.  chances are?   the convict's not gonna like this.