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Slaves of Cerberus	By : NakedOwlMan Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 138070 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all the characters in it are owned by people that are not me. I have not made a cent off this work of fiction

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After stepping through the door into his research area, Henneman activated the computer systems within. From the speakers installed in the hallway and all the testing rooms, the sound of his own voice filled the area.

All sentient life in the galaxy, from the most-intelligent human to the most mentally-addled vorcha, are driven by their desires. No one thing demonstrated that undeniable fact to me more than Project Lucretius.

Staring down the long hallway, Henneman breathed in deep through his nose. For the first time in almost a month, he felt like he was home.

Project Lucretius opened my eyes up to a whole new realm of possibilities. Ever since I had began my studies, I always found myself fascinated with the idea of imposing my will onto others. Not through such crude methods as brain implants and control chips, but through the very biology of the subject itself. Using their own innate cravings to make anyone – anyone at all – a slave. And when my spying work for Cerberus resulted in me becoming a member of the Shadow Broker's inner circle, it led me to be part of a project that would change my life forever.

Bringing up the datapad in his hands, Henneman started to take notes. He didn't have long, but he wanted to give the testing areas a proper inspection before heading over to the public area of the station for the big ceremony. As he made his way to the first door, he also listened carefully to the spoken words coming out over the PA system. He felt it was important that every last word of his memoirs be perfect. They would be studied for years after his death, after all.

The formula was a remarkable thing. Administered to a subject, it would increase their libido and sexual cravings to unimaginable levels. All rational thought, any previous goals or desires would be forgotten, replaced by the almost constant need for sexual gratification. I had never seen anything of its like before, and yet – as with any scientific breakthrough in the early stages – it was not quite reaching its peak potential. I was amazed at its abilities to work across all sentient species, and yet its adaptability was also its major downfall. The formula's need to adapt itself to the lateral orbitofrontal cortex of its subject's species led to it eventually diluting and passing out of the subject's system. Without regular exposure to further doses of the formula, the subject would eventually return to their normal self.

Entering the first room, Henneman waited for the lights to activate. Elaborate crystal chandeliers blazed to life, illuminating one of the larger testing room, and perhaps the most unusual.

It looked like something out of a 20th century mansion. Faux-wood floors with beautiful rugs. Plush sofas and chairs with classical styling. Red velvet walls decorated with tasteful nude paintings. A well-stocked liquor cabinet and cigar humidor. And to top it all off, a holographic fireplace set into one of the walls, its virtual flames crackling and blazing. The kind of room that practically dripped class and dignity.

Except for some of the other accessories. Next to the chandeliers that dangled from the ceilings were metal hooks, ready to be used to dangle ropes and chains from. Ropes and chains which were helpfully provided in a large wooden chest close to the entrance. Along with whips, riding crops, gags and masks... every possible implement needed to educate and discipline a slave.

I was so close to finding a solution. To ironing out the flaws in the Shadow Broker's formula and making it perfect. But then, abruptly, it was over. Myself and the rest of the merc team I had attached myself to were suddenly informed that our services were no longer required. At the time, it seemed inexplicable. I had no idea then that the position of the Shadow Broker had been usurped, by an individual who did not share the previous Broker's vision. The fearsome salarian who informed us of our termination did not even allow me to make a copy of my research notes before we were shown the door. I had been so close to greatness, to perfection... and within an instant, it was out of my grasp.

Reaching into the chest, Henneman pulled out a long rod with a rubber ball at the end. Pressing the activation button, he watched with detached satisfaction as it buzzed and vibrated. After a moment, his nostrils flared, and he sniffed at the vibrator's head and quickly deactivated and discarded the device. "Summon an AIU unit to have this room properly cleaned," Henneman spoke into his datapad. "And let Bowers and his people know that they need to attend to this duty more consistently in the future. Especially now that they have more than one guest to entertain themselves with."

Henneman fought the urge to retch. If he lived for a millennia, he would never be able to understand how anyone could stand for a second to engage in sexual congress with one of those... disgusting things. After a cursory glance over the rest of the room, Henneman was otherwise satisfied with the state of affairs, and exited out into the hallway.

And not only had the Shadow Broker cut me loose, but my actual employers suddenly had no further use for me. It took me days to get in contact with the Illusive Man, only for him to inform me that I was too compromised of an asset to make further use of. I was abandoned, adrift with no one to turn to. And just when I thought all hope was lost, she contacted me. Maya Brooks, as she currently wishes to be known, offered me an opportunity to continue my work. She had lost faith in the Illusive Man and Cerberus as it currently existed, and had laid claim to a valuable asset on her way out of the tainted organization. If I would help her with her goals, Miss Brooks would help me with mine.

The next room was much smaller than the first. 20' by 20', with bare metal floors and almost no furniture. Pacing around the room, Henneman stared at the two medical tables that were set facing each other in the center of the room. He took a moment to yank at each of the thick leather straps to ensure that they were secure. Afterwards, he tested each of the table's positions, which allowed anyone strapped down there to be placed in several convenient and highly degraded states. Legs spread for easy access, head tilted backwards to groin level. Giving full access to every last body part of the subject.

Around the walls of the room, set end to end without a gap in-between, were display monitors. Using his datapad to access the research area control systems, Henneman activated the display panels. The room was immediately filled with loud moans and screams of pain, while the monitors flared to life and displayed a wide variety of images. Looking around the room and ensuring that none of the monitors were blank or displaying glitches, Henneman quickly deactivated the monitors, satisfied.

And so myself and Miss Brooks formed a partnership, and set ourselves up in an abandoned Cerberus facility we believed the Illusive Man had forgotten about. Once we were there, reviving the clone was easy. Giving it basic memory implants, teaching it to walk and talk, all relatively simple things. But in return for that, Brooks assisted me by procuring research materials and, most importantly, test subjects. We started out with purchasing convicts from corrupt prison officials, but those turned out to be difficult to manage. After that, Brooks came up with the brilliant idea of raiding batarian slave ships. A bit more dangerous, perhaps, but once we had disabled the ships and eliminated the crew, their prisoners were all just so grateful. They never even suspected what was in store for them until we led them into their new cells.

The third room was almost mundane compared to the other ones. A high-tech, modernized operating room, with an adjustable surgical table in the center and cabinets filled with medical supplies along the left and right hand walls. And at the far wall, a series of small cloning vats with various body parts floating in regenerative formulas.

Stepping forward into the room, Henneman carefully inspected the wired-up pieces of anatomy, checking for any sign of degradation or cell replication failure. He would be needing these parts very soon, after all.

But despite all of my best efforts, and all of the resources afforded to me, I was unable to replicate Project Lucretius. What I created instead, however, was unique in its own regard. The formula – which, for lack of a better term, I have dubbed the Dom Formula – did correct the major flaw of the Shadow Broker's formula. One dose of my formula, and the subject was irrevocably altered, requiring no further doses for the effects to last permanently. And it did increase the subject's libido to startling levels like its predecessor. But there were certain differences. First, the formula only seemed to function on females. The males I tested Dom on died of massive coronaries within a day of being dosed. But the females... not only did they become obsessed with sex, but with violent sex. To put it quite vulgarly, they became serial, unrepentant rapists. For Dom subjects, it became almost as much about the conquest and humiliation of their victims as it did about the sexual gratification. Of course, the fact that the Dom formula also greatly increased the physical strength of the test subjects helped facilitate their new desires. Hence the name Dom: as a contrast to the "Sub" formula that the Shadow Broker had created.

Satisfied that all of his operating equipment was properly sterilized and ready, Henneman made his way to the fourth room in the hallway. This room wouldn't require much of an inspection, but he did like to be thorough.

The Dom formula was quite interesting, and the breakthroughs I made with it could have led to a refinement and perfection of the Sub formula. But once again, fate conspired to destroy my research. The Illusive Man discovered our use of the abandoned Cerberus facility, and sent in a team of his indoctrinated troops to forcibly evict us from the premises. We were able to survive, thanks in no small part to the efforts of one of my first Dom test subjects, calling herself Morgan Lezayen. Morgan and the other women, whom she had either befriended or terrified into her command, fought bravely to aid in our escape. But unfortunately, almost all of my research was lost in the rush to flee, and I was once again forced to start from scratch. And by this time, not only were we being hunted by Cerberus, but by the forces of the Reapers as well.

The sound of growling echoed across the walls of the small room Henneman had entered. Henneman's nose wrinked at the strong smell of feces that permeated the area. "Send a message to Roth," Henneman spoke into his datapad, the words translated to text on his screen. "Inform him that he is responsible for cleaning up after his pets. The repair team has had their fill of welding up teeth holes in the AIUs, so if he wants to keep the damn things, he'd better attend to them himself."

Stepping up to the cage at the far side of the room, Henneman stared down at the three snarling male varren prowling around inside. Hitting a button against the wall, he watched as a nearby hatch slid open, and several piles of synthesized meat-like product were deposited into the cage area. Immediately, the varren dashed for the food, snapping and nipping at each other as they fought for every last scrap.

We were on the run. No place to call home, and with seemingly the entire galaxy trying to find us. But salvation came to us in the form of an old comrade of Brooks'. We were summoned to Omega, recently freed from Cerberus control, and informed that what remained of the Illusive Man's forces in the area were moving into position to protect Cronos Station. As a result, Avernus Station, beyond the Omega 4 relay, had been reduced down to a skeleton crew. It would be the perfect place for us to reestablish a new base of operations. And so, we recruited a team of mercenaries from Omega – including several former comrades of mine from my days undercover – and claimed Avernus Station for our own. Just as we were taking control there, Cerberus was suffering its last ignoble defeat. Not long after, the Reapers were also destroyed, leaving us with no further hindrances to our operations.

Turning away from the disgusting creatures in the cage, Henneman headed out into the hallway. There were two more rooms to inspect, and the next one was perhaps the one he was least looking forward to entering. Standing outside of the door, he hesitated. Took a breath to steel his nerves. And opened the door.

With the Reapers defeated and the mass relays down, we quickly took control of the Omega Nebula. With the tools at my disposal at Avernus Station, I converted Morgan and the rest of the Dom test subjects into Phantoms, greatly increasing their combat effectiveness. One by one, we took out every pirate crew in the system. The humans, we offered employment with our organization. To those that refused, and to any alien crews, we turned them into test subjects or eliminated them. Meanwhile, I continued my research, but with limited results. The Dom and Sub formulas both seemed to elude me. At best, I managed to create a gaseous formula that could replicate the effects of the Dom formula. While it was quite unique in that the gaseous version of the formula could be engineered to target humans or other alien races specifically, and was able to target both males and females, it suffered from the same weakness as the original Sub formula. To an even greater extent, in fact: the subject had to be constantly exposed to the gas for the effects to take hold. Even just a few seconds without the formula being administered, and the effects would quickly vanish. Not only that, but unlike the irresistible urges of the other formulas, sufficiently strong-willed individuals could resist the gas with enough concentration. I needed more. More of my old research notes. More credits. And then, a few months after the relays came back up... Cerberus received a visitor, and I got everything I could have dreamed of.

"Note to self: Change 'everything I could have dreamed of' to 'everything I could have imagined.' I mean, seriously, Ruben. You know better than to end a sentence with a preposition," Henneman said into the datapad, while knowing that he was just stalling. Stepping into the room, he watched as the dim lights blazed to life above him. And the noises started.

The "Money Man," as they came to know her on the station. Although not a man at all as I later came to discover. But regardless, she came in claiming to be a supporter of our new Cerberus. Wanted to give us more credits than we could ever hope to spend, and bring in people who might otherwise be reluctant to associate with the army of murderers and thugs we had gathered up to that point. Avernus Station was rechristened Adamanthea Station, tripling in size at the same time. Many brilliant scientists and scholars came to work with us. And I had all the resources I could possibly need to continue my research. And in return, her demands were so small. Strange demands, to be sure. Demands that lead me to suspect that my benefactor might be quite insane. But if it gets me what I need to complete my work, I will indulge her peculiarities until such a time as she is no longer required.

It was similar to the growls that he heard stepping into Roth's kennel. And yet so much more... horrible. The holding cells at the far side of the room were much, much larger than the varren kennels, and secured with thick steel doors that Henneman could hear muffled pounding sounds against. Better to contain the... things there.

Even as the man who had created them, Henneman shuddered a bit remembering what horrors were hidden behind those doors. He would have felt sorry for the poor bastards, if he was capable of feeling compassion for any disgusting alien beings. Instead, he felt more pity for whichever of his new test subjects he would end up introducing to this room.

Stepping to a wall panel, Henneman pressed in a series of commands. He winced at the shrieks coming from the cells, as the sanitization procedure washed and cleansed the remnants of whatever filth the creatures had left since the last cleaning. Normally, living things would be vacated from the area before such tools were used, but the creatures in the cells had thick enough skin to survive through the pain. After that, Henneman entered another set of commands, delivering food to the creatures. He was quick to vacate the room as the sounds of loud, wet chewing could be heard from behind the thick cell doors.

But in the end, there is one missing piece to the puzzle. One that, as of the time of this recording, I hope to be retrieving very soon. The Shadow Broker archives, contained in a secret vault in the Citadel. With any luck, the original Project Lucretius notes will be contained there. Once I have that information, it won't take long for me to completely perfect both the Sub and Dom formulas. Both Miss Brooks and the Money Man are eager to see me test my new formulas on the subjects we will be acquiring along the way. Assuming our mission is a success, I should be quite ready to show them the results of my work.

At the last door, Henneman reached to a nearby wall panel. After entering a passcode, a small box appeared on the screen, and Henneman pressed his thumb to it. Next came the voice print analysis, followed by a retinal scan. Once all the security measures were cleared, Henneman stepped inside.

It was the one room in the facility that didn't show the results of his handiwork. No, what was in here had already been there when he and Brooks had taken over Avernus Station. And when the two of them had seen it, all of their plans for their new vision of Cerberus were rapidly adjusted.

At the other side of the room, humming quietly with various regenerative fluids bubbling within, was a cloning pod. A protective screen covered the glass exterior, to better protect information about the contents of the pod. For Brooks's plan to succeed, after all, no one else could know what she and Henneman had found.

Walking up to the pod, Henneman checked the current status of the cloned being contained within. As usual, it was all the same. Life signs were stable, but brain activity was completely dead. The creation inside was alive, but mindless.

Satisfied with the status of the clone, Henneman turned his attention back to the center of the room. Two flat metal tables had been set up there, along with a massive electronic device set between the two of them. Jutting out from the giant machine, two helmet-like devices connected to the central machinery with wires.

A remarkable creation. Most of it based on the research of that bitch Lawson. But it was still incomplete. They still needed the final piece of the puzzle from...

"Dammit!" Henneman cursed, his train of thought reminding him of where he needed to be. Checking the time on his omni-tool, he dashed out of the room, but not without taking care to lock it behind him.

As he walked briskly to the public area access door, he practiced his smile. Had to look properly thrilled for the big event after all.
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Slaves of Cerberus