#obscured

That’s when it hits me.

The asari flings a canister at me, one I already know is full of Minagen X3. I make the wrong call, sidestepping left instead of right, and glide right into danger. My boots scrape as I pivot, but it’s already too late. The canister bursts next to me.

A cloud of fine red powder explodes outward, coating my front like rusted snow. It hits my face, fills my lungs, and clings to my skin like glitter. I barely have time to register the burn before someone yanks me behind a wall.

“Shit,” Garrus mutters. “You alright, Mika?”

It burns.

Fuck, it burns.

Not like a wound or like fire. Worse. Like every cell is boiling. Like my nerves have been pulled to the surface and soaked in acid. My spine snaps straight, a strangled noise tearing from my throat. I clutch at my chestplate, fingers clawing for stability that isn’t there.

“I—what the fuck—”

The words rip out, half-choked, barely formed. My knees buckle, and my vision fractures. Not just blur, but color, heat, and motion. Everything warps, like my bones are screaming.

“Mika, what’s happening? Talk to me,” Garrus says.

Something crackles at my fingertips, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels like power, though not something that belongs to me. It surges up my arms, down my spine, across my temples, and then something ignites.

Everything turns blue.

It coils in my chest and thrums against my skull, wrong but alive. And then it breaks. The pain doesn’t stop, but it seems to… mutate. Sharp becomes buzzy, searing becomes electric. My mouth drops open on a laugh I don’t mean to make. No, not a laugh. A giggle, too loud and too bright.

“Garrus,” I wheeze, clutching his arm. “Garrus—look at me.”

He does. And I watch it hit him. How his eyes widen, the way his shoulders stiffen, mandibles twitching. Not recoiling—anchoring. He doesn’t look away. Not even when I’m laughing like a maniac.

“I think I’m dying.”

And when his breath catches—just barely—I gasp, grabbing him tighter.

“No, wait.” I grin wider, manic and breathless. “I think I’m a fucking god.”

Garrus exhales, slow and steady, like he’s recalibrating his whole worldview. Is he shaking his head or nodding at me?

“Of course you are,” he mutters under his breath. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he says.

I let go of Garrus and hold up my hands, staring at them like I’ve never seen fingers before. They’re glowing in this brilliant blue, like a nova, and it makes me giggle again—completely gone.

“Garrus,” I say, voice dazed and delighted. “Garrus, look. Look at this.”

“I’m looking,” he says.

Then I start giggling. Even more.

Not because it’s funny—I’m actually panicking. Who the hell gets biotic powers out of nowhere? But my brain has decided this is hilarious. Because panicking and being scared isn’t how I deal with incomprehensible issues.

“Garrus,” I say, dragging his name out like it’s a joke. “Are you seeing this, Garrus?”

Before he can stop me, I fling my hand forward on instinct. A biotic pulse slams out. It’s too wide and sloppy, catching the edge of a random crate and launching it backward into a wall. The crate explodes on impact, and I whoop, staring at my hands in awe.

“Gravity’s scared of me now,” I whisper, eyes wide as if the truth just dropped into my lap. “I can feel it running.”

I turn to Garrus, expression luminous and unsettling, and press a hand to his chest like he’s the only real thing left.

“You’re the only thing anchoring me.” My fingers flex, bracing against the collapse of reality. “You feel that? Even gravity listens to you.”

Garrus doesn’t laugh. He just nods and says, “Then I guess I’d better hold on.”

I snort. Then giggle. Then cackle—loud and wild and echoing like it’s trying to escape my chest.

“Oh shit,” I wheeze between fits of laughter. “Oh god, I have no idea what I’m doing!”

I’ve already decided I need to enjoy what it’s like being a biotic for a day, so I stumble to my feet. And what happens next isn’t tactical. It’s pure chaos.

I charge out from cover, practically skipping, waving my arms and sending half-formed shockwaves in every direction. One arcs too low and throws Kasumi off her feet.

“Ha! Sorry, Kasumi!” I shout over my shoulder, absolutely not sorry. “Did you see that, Garrus?”

“I saw,” he says.

Every merc that comes near me either gets thrown too hard, half-lifted, or sent spinning into the air like they’re on some kind of weird rollercoaster. I duck behind cover only to accidentally toss it sideways, leaving myself completely exposed again. Garrus has to drop one clean shot to keep me from getting lit up.

“Thanks, big guy!” I sing-song, right before biotically yeeting a mech leg through someone’s chest. “Learning curve!”

By the time I make my way to Captain Wasea, I’m glowing, twitchy, and giggling like a war criminal with a glitter cannon. Wasea narrows her eyes, darting around the room like she’s regretting every single life choice she’s ever made.

“Hey, Garrus.” I grin at Wasea. “Garrus. Garrus?”

“Right behind you.”

“Garrus!”

“What?”

“Look at me!”

“I’m looking.”

I hold out my hand, concentrate with everything I’ve got, and launch myself across the room.

Splat.

Right into Captain Wasea.

I slam into her so hard she’s knocked against the wall. There’s a sickening snap from somewhere in her body. Her eyes widen once before violet blood starts dripping from her mouth. My own eyes widen, locking on hers, and her expression seems to ask one simple question:

Why?