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Description
‘I think I’m going to employ violence.’

You’ve never been to the parts of the Citadel like this before; dusty, empty, devoid of any life save the faint vibrations from the club on the floor above. Your head hurts like nothing else and if you didn’t remember parts what actually happened last night, you’d blame it on a hangover. Which would be far preferable to the truth, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s the kind of morning- this is morning right?- where you don’t want to remember what happened last night. Breathing heavily, you try to focus on what’s around you, rather than your desperate need to puke, only realising you’re tied down after you try to stretch. Your vision is only just starting to clear and your body still feels beyond numb, but in the meantime every other sense feels overwhelming; the air tastes of dust, smells like piss and is cold as ice. But you can’t hear anything and the worst part is the silence.

The quiet is beyond jarring; the lack of movement or sound or response from anything makes you feel like a trespasser. Which you are, really. This is her domain and has been for several weeks now; based off the information you had received from C-sec. And, honestly, you don’t understand how they expected you to be able to fight her. She had experienced mercs on her side, while you only had a couple of biotic students barely out of the classroom. To put it bluntly, she is a Queen surrounded by her armies. You are, well, were a ragtag bunch of whoever the Alliance could afford to spare.

What the fuck had they been thinking?

You shake your head from side to side, partly to stop yourself dwelling on those thoughts and partly to see if it can clear up your vision, which is currently reduced to only being able to make out blurred patches of light. It doesn’t work and even if it did, you wouldn’t have enough time to utilise that.

A cloth is placed over your eyes, extinguishing what little sight you have, and you bite down onto your lower lip, clenching it so hard you’re pretty sure it’ll start bleeding any second now, in an attempt to stop that whimper from escaping from your throat. One of the hands that ties the ends behind your head moves down, gently stroking your cheek before it moves to your throat. You unconsciously recoil at the contact, right before a voice breaks the silence.

“Apparently you humans say I made a deal with the Devil.”

It’s almost a purr, cold rage tightly leashed behind smooth words. And it sends a shiver down your body. You can’t see her, not with this blindfold on, but you don’t need to look at her to know that she’s wearing a smile so wide it could give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. You can practically feel it.

She laughs. It doesn’t feel like she’s taking pleasure in that, but more that it’s calculated, done specifically to unnerve you. But if it is, it’s because of instinct rather than skill, from something predatory in her nature. You cough, spluttering up bile and something that tastes like blood and god knows what else. The heat of your body is unbearable, her fingers almost mercifully cold as she clenches around your throat harder with one hand, her other sliding down to your shoulder before she leans closer, until you can feel her breath on your ear. Her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks again.

“They’re wrong, you know.”

You whimper. It’s hard to do anything else; it feels like your brain has shut down, every part of what you learnt in training evaporated from your body, only something primal and forgotten left to guide you. And it seems like your subconscious is smart enough not to fight back; the nearest you get is shuddering as she traces random patterns on your neck, her nails digging into the skin ever so slightly. It’s a gentle action, but one that terrifies you, to the point where you think your biotics might actually have shut down. They’re that still.

Aria removes her hand from your neck, then waves a hand. The cold air she pushes back makes your skin prickles, right before your body slams backwards. You barely have time to register hitting the hard concrete floor before you feel the electric crackling of the air around you. You try to brace yourself, clench every muscle in your body, lock your teeth but it doesn’t do anything.

The blood pours from your mouth and you choke, desperately trying to get your breathing back, to not be drowned as your lungs fill. You manage, sort of, spluttering sobbing and half-screaming. It’s pathetic really, you know it is. That a trained alliance officer could be reduced to this- a squirming, bloody mess at the feet of a criminal. Again, you whimper, before instinctively freezing as she speaks again, her voice too soft for comfort.

“There is no devil but me.”

It’s all you can do to scream as her biotics turn their attention to your torso; scream to drown out the crunch you know too well the source of.

‘In other words, I’m in Hell.’

Description
‘I think I’m going to employ violence.’

You’ve never been to the parts of the Citadel like this before; dusty, empty, devoid of any life save the faint vibrations from the club on the floor above. Your head hurts like nothing else and if you didn’t remember parts what actually happened last night, you’d blame it on a hangover. Which would be far preferable to the truth, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s the kind of morning- this is morning right?- where you don’t want to remember what happened last night. Breathing heavily, you try to focus on what’s around you, rather than your desperate need to puke, only realising you’re tied down after you try to stretch. Your vision is only just starting to clear and your body still feels beyond numb, but in the meantime every other sense feels overwhelming; the air tastes of dust, smells like piss and is cold as ice. But you can’t hear anything and the worst part is the silence.

The quiet is beyond jarring; the lack of movement or sound or response from anything makes you feel like a trespasser. Which you are, really. This is her domain and has been for several weeks now; based off the information you had received from C-sec. And, honestly, you don’t understand how they expected you to be able to fight her. She had experienced mercs on her side, while you only had a couple of biotic students barely out of the classroom. To put it bluntly, she is a Queen surrounded by her armies. You are, well, were a ragtag bunch of whoever the Alliance could afford to spare.

What the fuck had they been thinking?

You shake your head from side to side, partly to stop yourself dwelling on those thoughts and partly to see if it can clear up your vision, which is currently reduced to only being able to make out blurred patches of light. It doesn’t work and even if it did, you wouldn’t have enough time to utilise that.

A cloth is placed over your eyes, extinguishing what little sight you have, and you bite down onto your lower lip, clenching it so hard you’re pretty sure it’ll start bleeding any second now, in an attempt to stop that whimper from escaping from your throat. One of the hands that ties the ends behind your head moves down, gently stroking your cheek before it moves to your throat. You unconsciously recoil at the contact, right before a voice breaks the silence.

“Apparently you humans say I made a deal with the Devil.”

It’s almost a purr, cold rage tightly leashed behind smooth words. And it sends a shiver down your body. You can’t see her, not with this blindfold on, but you don’t need to look at her to know that she’s wearing a smile so wide it could give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. You can practically feel it.

She laughs. It doesn’t feel like she’s taking pleasure in that, but more that it’s calculated, done specifically to unnerve you. But if it is, it’s because of instinct rather than skill, from something predatory in her nature. You cough, spluttering up bile and something that tastes like blood and god knows what else. The heat of your body is unbearable, her fingers almost mercifully cold as she clenches around your throat harder with one hand, her other sliding down to your shoulder before she leans closer, until you can feel her breath on your ear. Her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks again.

“They’re wrong, you know.”

You whimper. It’s hard to do anything else; it feels like your brain has shut down, every part of what you learnt in training evaporated from your body, only something primal and forgotten left to guide you. And it seems like your subconscious is smart enough not to fight back; the nearest you get is shuddering as she traces random patterns on your neck, her nails digging into the skin ever so slightly. It’s a gentle action, but one that terrifies you, to the point where you think your biotics might actually have shut down. They’re that still.

Aria removes her hand from your neck, then waves a hand. The cold air she pushes back makes your skin prickles, right before your body slams backwards. You barely have time to register hitting the hard concrete floor before you feel the electric crackling of the air around you. You try to brace yourself, clench every muscle in your body, lock your teeth but it doesn’t do anything.

The blood pours from your mouth and you choke, desperately trying to get your breathing back, to not be drowned as your lungs fill. You manage, sort of, spluttering sobbing and half-screaming. It’s pathetic really, you know it is. That a trained alliance officer could be reduced to this- a squirming, bloody mess at the feet of a criminal. Again, you whimper, before instinctively freezing as she speaks again, her voice too soft for comfort.

“There is no devil but me.”

It’s all you can do to scream as her biotics turn their attention to your torso; scream to drown out the crunch you know too well the source of.

‘In other words, I’m in Hell.’