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Played	By : Nicker Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 16397 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters. I make no profit from this fiction.

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Miranda Lawson spent an uncomfortable night in the back of the control room, one hand cuffed to a metal pipe that was massively part of the building, so there was no way for her to rip it out even if she wanted to. She could, of course get out of the cuffs in a matter of seconds, warping the chains with her biotics, or open the lock in a number of ways, but she didn’t. She was right where she needed to be.
Well, almost. She wasn’t exactly planning on getting shot and covered in dirt, taken on a ride in ore cars and stripped naked, then shiver in cold water and generally being cuffed to anyone or anything. Williams was too fast to improvise and took the wrong turns, and missed the getaway path that would have led her to more a convenient escape.

Miranda had to admit, that the Alliance woman was resourceful on a very basic level and she may not be a cunning tactician but they underestimated her instincts. In retrospect it made perfect sense for Williams to choose this escape, even though it was more gung-ho and dangerous, but this is what you get if they don’t give you enough information before dropping you into a tricky situation.
Miranda was tracking the asari Dr. T’Soni and the drell as they went on a cat-and-mouse game to chase down the Shadow Broker, when The Illusive Man sent her to Terra Nova thinking this case might be relevant to their other agenda. Only nobody knew it was Ashley Williams, one of Shepard’s most trusted companion that got caught up in their net. It was their lucky day: incidentally, getting information from Williams about both her secret mission and Shepard could prove useful. Especially if this Alliance operation had anything to do with the Reapers. If they sent Williams on this mission, it must have been very important. So until there were news on the other front, this was actually a good distraction.
Of course, Miranda needed to improvise. She was fine with improvising, but she was not fine with not having all the necessary information at hand. And she was not fine with not taking a shower since she left Omega. She hated the stench of that place. One shower was never enough to wash away the memory of that filth. Maybe if she had Ashley Williams’ file on her and she hadn’t been distracted with the smell of Omega in her hair, she could have made a better plan.
Still, basically, her plan was still in motion, only some geographical and physical factors changed. She needed to earn Williams’ trust enough so she would try to convert Miranda, and spill enough information in the process so she would get what she wanted.
It was obvious to Miranda that torture was not gonna be efficient enough. Besides, if the Alliance gets wind that Cerberus captured and tortured the second most famous human in the Galaxy, they might step up their game against Cerberus, not to mention having Ashley Williams holding a personal grudge against them would be inconvenient. They might have had to kill her, which would have been a disaster. If everything else failed, the Illusive Man would have wanted to see if Ashley Williams could be groomed to become the next human Spectre. As it was, those bruises Miranda saw on her body were bad enough, but didn’t seem to piss Williams off that bad.
There was a lot Miranda could learn from this affair.
So she played along, carefully hiding her biotics, made clumsy attempts at turning the table on Williams, establishing herself as not very good at this, but not dumb enough so Williams wouldn’t respect her. Miranda played the vulnerability card, hinting now and then that she was out of her element. Oddly enough, sometimes Williams would get pissed off at her, and that would make Miranda frustrated as well.
It seemed as if her little act was pushing different buttons with Williams than the ones she intended. Miranda knew this act would work on men, but that was different: they would see an easy prey and a chance to swoop in and get her in the sack. Miranda was not going for the sexy effect, she was going for sympathy. Maybe she was overdoing it, she thought, because at times Miranda could swear to that Ashley Williams was jealous of her.
Then came the morning. Williams woke her up not too roughly.

“Come on, eat and then we move out,” she said uncuffing Miranda from the pipe. She seemed to be in a serious mood, but at least she didn’t seem pissed.

Miranda blinked and tried to focus, shuffling into a sitting position, stretched her cramped arms and tried to comb out her hair with her fingers. This last effort earned her a barely audible snort and a smirk from Williams.
They ate in silence. Maybe Williams was not mad at her, but any attempt to start a conversation earned Miranda a stern glare.

They packed up, ready to leave. This time Williams cuffed Miranda’s hands together in front of her with a warning glance. “No more tricks, okay? I’ll just whoop your ass again, and it’s getting annoying.”
Miranda nodded. Ashley Williams was really good at close combat. Without her biotics, Miranda didn’t really stand a chance against her. She was not giving it up easy before—Williams was beating her fair and square.
Leading Miranda in front of her, Ashley led them out of the building and using the trains scattered around the marshalling yard as covers, they started trekking towards the control tower at the mouth of the valley. Ashley must have studied the layout from the old control room, because they stayed in cover and there was no hesitation in her movements. She also took her time and checked their surroundings constantly, like she was moving in enemy territory. With only a pistol in her hand she was still convincing. Nobody was going to surprise her.
Miranda went along reluctantly, and tried to see if she could distract her by talking while they were on the move. It didn’t seem to bother Williams: she kept her attention on their progress, while listening to Miranda.
“You know, I read a lot about you after the Battle of the Citadel. You come from a very pro-human background and don’t seem to be particularly fond of other species.”

“So?”

“So you’re not that different from us. You might have just as easily joined Cerberus. Especially after what your grandfather had to go through at the hand of the Alliance.”

Ashley snorted. “Yeah, but I didn’t. And it’s not like I haven’t heard everything said about my grandfather. So if this is your attempt to piss me off, you’ve gotta try harder.”

“I am not trying to piss you off,” Miranda shrugged as they crouched behind a car. At Ashley’s signal, they jumped up and ran across a couple of tracks, catching a shunting train and walking in its cover for a while. Miranda continued after they stopped behind another ore car. “Just making an observation.”
“Yeah, right. Bet you never heard of me until we took down Saren. Bet you would have had the same prejudice about recruiting me than the rest of them. A shitty outpost is a shitty outpost even if you’re Cerberus.”
She was probably right, Miranda thought. She would have been bad news before. Cerberus probably passed on her file if it ever got to them.

“Still. Our goals are the same,” Miranda suggested, trying to act as a recruiter. Of course, this Ashley Williams was much more valuable as an Alliance celebrity, than as a Cerberus operative.

“Even if that would be true,” Williams retorted “our principles are not the same. Neither are the methods,” she nodded at Miranda. “Case in point.”
Before Miranda could try to argue, it was time for another run. They were very close to the tower.

“Why are you trying so hard, huh?” Williams asked, turning to look at her for the first time since they started the sneaking.
Miranda tried to look at least a little hurt. “I’m trying to save my ass, that’s why,” she snapped nervously. “I told you: you won’t take me off this planet alive. My people will make sure I won’t be able to talk even if I wanted to.”
Ashley grinned at her. “Don’t you worry about that. The Alliance has a pretty big base in Scott City. We were supposed to get debriefed here,” she nodded towards the tower. “All I need is to find a train that will take us close enough to the city and my people will pick us up.”
Miranda turned her head away. It was a possibility that Ashley would make this move, although it was more likely that she would try to get off the planet. Of course, if this was their return base, it changed the variables... Miranda hated working with incomplete data.
“Yeah, you’re screwed either way. But don’t worry, unlike Cerberus, I won’t throw you under a train,” Williams winked, and darted to the base of the tower, guiding Miranda with her by the arm. Miranda was not too happy with the situation and she let it show on her face, so the marine could interpret it her way.

“What’s your plan now?” Miranda asked, focusing her attention to the immediate situation.

Ashley shrugged, seizing up the building, looking for cameras, alarms, people. “Well, get in, get the schedule and find a train that will get us where we want to go. Simple.”
Miranda nodded. Not too sophisticated, but it’ll do.

“So we wait until—” she started to say, but Ashley already opened the door and they slipped inside. There was an elevator and a staircase leading up. Ashley lowered her weapon, and guiding Miranda in front of her, started to climb the stairs.
“This is a very stupid idea, Williams,” Miranda whispered over her shoulder as she reluctantly walked ahead of her. “We could just wait until there’s a shift change or some other opportunity...”

“I don’t want to waste time. Your people could find you omnitool any minute and trace it back here. Besides, it’s just a couple of dispatchers.”

Miranda shook her head. She tried to sound worried instead of frustrated at the marine’s naiveté.

“You don’t know these guys. Not exactly what you would call civilized. Or law abiding.”

Ashley snorted dismissively as they reached the top of the stairs and opened a door into a small circular corridor. “It’s just a bunch of fat guys at a switchboard. Relax.”
Miranda was anything but relaxed. Backwater mining operations like these didn’t exactly employ the most clean living and law-abiding staff. They might not even like the Alliance, and although Williams proved she can handle herself, she was not used to handling shady colonists.
By this time they were at the control room door and Ashley confidently tapped it open, pushing the handcuffed Miranda in front of her. She stumbled in and saw two men turning their heads towards the noise. One of them was actually quite fat, the other one scrawny and middle-aged with a face like a weasel’s.
“What the—”

Miranda flashed a shy, confused smile at them.

“Alliance business, gentlemen,” Ashley declared with an air of confidence, and so far she had the element of surprise. “This woman is a spy and I need to get her to the city. I need to see the marshalling schedule and get on the next train.”
The men blinked a couple of times, taking in the view. Both women were in miner’s outfit, Williams in overalls, Miranda in maintenance outfit. Their gaze travelled to the handcuffs and then to the gun hanging casually in Ashley’s right hand. Fat Man and Weasel looked at each other then back at them.

“Something wrong?” Ashley asked when they didn’t respond. “Do you need me to repeat what I said?”
“No,” Weasel replied, breaking their silence. They slowly stepped closer. It wasn’t a big room, and they got too close already for Miranda’s comfort. They were leering at her. Williams may not be used to it, but Miranda knew that undressing stare. “We heard them fine. Do you have some ID to prove you’re Alliance?”

Ashley sighed.

“Obviously not. Otherwise I would have showed it to you already. But would I walk in here like this if I weren’t?”

Weasel smirked. “Yea, Alliance are arrogant like that. But you could still fake it.”

Miranda tried not to roll her eyes. Ashley however, must have rolled hers, because the men looked hurt.
“Look, if I were dirty, I’d lay low and stay out of sight and not risk blowing my cover. Just tell me when’s the next train to the city and you can get back to your job.”
The fat man edged closer to Miranda, locking his gaze on her chest. The jacket was not exactly small, but it wasn’t big enough to hide her curves. She shifted uneasily on her feet, acting the part. It wasn’t hard though, Fat Man’s intentions were clear from his small gestures.
“Well, we need authorization from our supervisor,” Weasel said with a toothy grin, sizing Ashley up. Apart from the gun, he obviously thought he could take her.
Williams shifted in frustration.

“Guys. I just need to see the schedule. Don’t make this hard.”

The men laughed at each other, Fat Man gathering the courage to reach out and touch Miranda’s arm. She pulled away instantly, with a nervous grimace, bumping into Ashley to establish her vulnerability. This earned another laugh from Fat Man.

“We’ll be happy to help the Alliance,” Weasel said, eyes darting back and forth between the two women. “For a proper reward.”

“I don’t have money on me...”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Guys. I don’t want trouble. Let me see the schedule. I can make some calls and get you rewards.”
Fat Man was reaching for Miranda’s hair with a dreamy expression. She tried to hide her contempt and look disgusted. She pressed against Ashley’s left shoulder to avoid the man’s touch. Weasel’s eyes kept darting around.
“Oh, we don’t need money,” Weasel said with an unmistakable tone.

“This was a bad idea,” Miranda whispered to Ashley over her shoulder. Williams grunted, it seemed she started to agree with her. She shifted her weight into a casual defensive stance, gripping her gun tighter.
Fat Man laughed at Miranda’s whispered remark, an unnerving, deep laugh.

“Let’s have fun with the spy girl,” he grumbled. “We’ll call it our reward.”
Miranda shot a glance at Williams and saw that she already knew her plan to bully these guys into compliance didn’t work. She lifted the gun slowly in warning.

“Let’s get your supervisor on the line, then,” she said.

“He’s right behind you,” Weasel chuckled.
Ashley turned towards the door, and saw the dark shadow as it struck. As soon as the Weasel replied to her she knew there was trouble, so she leaned away as she turned. The short baton he was gripping slipped off her shoulder and brushed her temple, making her stagger to the side, but at least she stayed conscious and had a chance to fight back back.
While the Weasel jumped for her gun, grabbing her arm and tried to wrestle it away, the Fat Man jumped on Miranda. He didn’t much care about the other guys and Ashley, he was already too focused on his prize.
Miranda started to scream as he groped her chest, hoping the sharp sound would distract someone. Fat Man slammed her against the wall and the force of the impact cut her breath short. Miranda’s hands were pinned between her and the Fat Man’s bulging, soft belly. He went for the prize, ripping open Miranda’s jacket, revealing the white t-shirt she was wearing underneath.
A shot rang out and Weasel screamed in pain, collapsing down on the floor, sitting with his back to the wall, the crotch of his pants soaked with blood. While their supervisor jumped Ashley from behind, the Weasel went in to wrestle the pistol from Ashley’s hand. It was a matter of one twist of her elbow for Ashley to aim the gun down and pull the trigger at point blank range.
The good thing was that Weasel was going into shock rapidly, shivering uncontrollably. The bad thing was that the pistol slipped from Ashley’s hand as he went down and was now trapped between the Weasel’s back and the wall. It didn’t matter, though, he was out of the fight for good.
The supervisor however, was another matter. It quickly became obvious, that he had some sort of military training. He knew a few of the tricks and moves and he was twice the size of Ashley, that compensated for his lack of advance training that Ashley received.
Meanwhile, Miranda was getting trapped against the wall. She could risk using her biotics and finish the guy with one simple flick of her wrist, but that could betray her to Ashley and ruin her chances of getting her to talk. But this guy was BIG and he was tearing at her t-shirt and her hands were trapped under his weight and it was getting real very fast!
It wasn’t just the odds and his physical dominance, though. Miranda could handle a little roughing up, but the prospect of him ripping her shirt up and baring her chest before groping her breasts made her more uncomfortable than she thought it would. Suddenly the idea of stalling the Fat Man until Ashley finishes off her attacker and then comes to her rescue seemed inadequate. Her rational mind knew that if Williams saves her, she has a chance to show her gratitude and get closer, but with every passing second Miranda got more and more nervous.
She heard the noise of struggle in the control room, the thumps and thuds and groans of hand-to-hand combat, and the whimper of a bleeding Weasel, but she quickly noticed that she was whimpering too, and noises were becoming distant. She realized, with quite a bit of surprise, that she was beginning to panic.
The tearing of the t-shirt was the last straw. She cried out, starting to worm left and right to avoid the greasy hands, sending her breasts jiggling out of her clothes, which was probably what Fat Man wanted anyway. Miranda put her palms together and in the cover of his fat belly, she flared up her biotics just enough to give his stomach a gentle push, to throw him off balance. She hoped the ozone smell of the biotic discharge will go unnoticed in the chaos.
Fat Man lost his balance and took a small step back. That was enough for Miranda to grab for his balls, give it a hard squeeze, sinking her nails into it as much as the clothes allowed it and when Fat Man’s eyes opened wide and he was about to cry out, she head-butted him in the jaw, where she could reach him.
This did the trick, the man stumbled back, freeing Miranda from the wall. She shot a glance at Ashley, who managed to throw the other man off her back and now they were facing each other. It was an even match, Ashley with her skills and him with his size and mass of muscle. It was a blur of dodges and parries and Ashley delivering painful punches that did less damage than she hoped.
Miranda turned his attention back to the Fat Man, who was staring at the blood on his hand he wiped away from the corner of his mouth. He must have bit his tongue hard, because there was a lot of it. Before Miranda could take the time to enjoy her small victory, he was already charging. She barely had enough time to lift her hands up in defense. She stumbled back and to the side from the great swipe of his hand.
She fell onto the control panels, the buttons and switches digging into her back, making her hiss in pain. She pulled her legs up just as he slammed into her again, trapping her on the console. He flashed his bloody-red teeth at her and reached out, but Miranda had her hands up and this time she was putting up a fight.
Swatting away his hands, she pulled her knees to her chest, pushing him away just a little bit. Fat Man tried to use the momentum to fall on her harder, but he was not expecting Miranda to be that bendy and pull her legs up that fast. The next thing he knew was her legs on his shoulder and her knees squeezing his neck. He was staring at her with a stupid expression and a bloody mouth.
Miranda whined, baring her teeth and squeezed her knees tighter. All sounds were muffled, all she could hear was blood rushing in her ear, and all she could see was a disgusting, bloody face between her legs, his hands blindly groping for her. She grabbed his wrists, trying to keep them away from her throat or her chest, her breasts slipping free of the torn jacket. Fat Man was trapped between a pair of long legs and stared at a pair of swaying globes in front of a desperate female face and he was baffled that he couldn’t do anything.
Miranda on the other hand sunk her nails into his hands, not letting them go, and snarled, squeezing her legs tighter and tighter. She barely realized that she stopped being trapped and that she was the one not letting go. The Fat Man stumbled to the left and right, dragging her across the buttons and switchboards in an attempt to shake her off.
He was also dying. Not from choking, though, but Miranda’s knees squeezed so hard that they closed off his arteries on both side of his neck, stopping the bloodflow to his brain. He grabbed her thighs, trying to part her legs, but Miranda would not let go. She felt his fingers sink into the wound on her thigh, making it bleed again. The pain only made her squeeze harder.
She was snarling and staring at the desperate face as the rest of the world stopped existing for her. Panic gave way to anger once she realized that she was not scared of the man or his touch. She was afraid of his father. The years while she was forced to live with him and the things he did to her until she was old enough to get away—It all came flooding back to her when the Fat Man shot the same leering gaze at her, and it triggered old memories. Fat Man was nothing like his father physically, but the whole situation was familiar. And she was young, and her father was strong. And her sobs and begging only made him more eager.
So Miranda clenched her teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing her beg or cry, even though the burning pain in her thigh was making her eyes water, blurring the sight of his bloody face. She tried to blink the tears away, she wanted to look into her father’s eyes as she squeezed the life out of him like she wanted to every time he forced himself on her.
There was a sudden jerk and she hit her head in something that shocked her out of her bloodrage. They were on the floor, probably slipped down when Fat Man’s legs gave up. He was still above her, but his gaze was empty, blood and drool was dripping from his mouth, and his hands slipped off her legs. His dead weight kept him on top and Miranda kept squeezing and sobbing with clenched teeth from the effort.
And then Ashley was there, pushing off the lifeless body from her and peeling her legs apart. Miranda felt her hand on her shoulder, and she heard her speak, but it was all muffled. She just glared at her with a confused look, jerking her head down when the other woman touched her bloody leg. She tried to pull away with a grunt, adrenaline still flushing her system. Ashley talked to her soothingly and patted her shoulder trying to calm her down.
Miranda’s vision started to clear, the sounds returning and she watched in a haze as Ashley checked the Weasel’s pulse. He was gone, too. Williams retrieved her gun and dragged the Fat Man away from Miranda, next to the other corpse. There was no sign of the third man, but Miranda detected a slight breeze and noticed Ashley’s dark hair almost floating in the wind. One of the reinforced windows was now broken, and Ashley was now standing at the main control panel, checking the manifests at the computer terminal.
Soon she returned to her and tried to look into her eyes while she touched her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” Miranda shouted, almost hysterically, pulling away and sitting up straighter at the wall.

Ashley lifted a hand in a calming gesture.

“It’s over. Come on,” she whispered. She must have met enough shell-shocked civilians in her time to know how to handle her. Guiding her gently by her arm, whispering “it’s okay,” and “everything will be fine,” she made her stand up and guided her out onto the corridor and into the mess hall/lounge next door.
By the time Ashley had her sitting down on a worn leather couch in the corner, Miranda was breathing more regularly. An eerie calm started to descend on her as Ashley left her there to look for a first aid kit. Miranda took deep breaths, and still staring into empty space, she felt her muscles relax, she felt the pain returning to her leg, but it was all fine. Because in her mind, she could finally kill her father.
She let her tears fall. She felt terrible. She felt violated. She felt relief.
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